A world of vvonders: or An introduction to a treatise touching the conformitie of ancient and moderne wonders or a preparatiue treatise to the Apologie for Herodotus. The argument whereof is taken from the Apologie for Herodotus written in Latine by Henrie Stephen, and continued here by the author himselfe. Translated out of the best corrected French copie.

AN INTRODVCTION TO A TREATISE, TOVCHING THE CONFOR∣MITIE OF AVNCIENT AND MO∣DERNE WONDERS: OR A Preparatiue Treatise in defence of HERODOTVS. Which may also be called, The first booke of the Apo∣logie for Herodotus. (Book 1)

The Preface to the first Part.

AS there are many who do highly esteeme of Antiquitie, and haue it in great admiration, and are (if I may so speake) so zealously affected towards it, that the reuerence they beare it, is in the nearest degree to superstition: so there are others (on the contrary) who are so farre from giuing it that which of due belongs vnto it, that they do not onely dis∣grace it what they can, but euen tread it vnder foote. Now that these two opinions (be they fancies or humors) haue borne sway among the auncient, shall appeare hereafter by pregnant proofes. But for the better ma∣nifestation of the reasons whereon they ground their opinions, I thought it not impertinent to treate in generall of the vertues and vices of auncient times, sear∣ching out the first source and spring thereof: that so in the sequel of this discourse I may come to examine and trie the truth of the old prouerbiall sentence, which saith by way of aequiuocation, Le monde va tousiours à l'empire, The world growes daily worse and worse. And so descending (as it were) by steps and degeees, may note and obserue the examples of alterations which haue happened in this age or somewhat before, as an Introduction to the Preparatiue treatise of the Apology for Herodotus.

And first I will begin with the description of the first Age, not as it is recorded in Canonicall Scripture, which cannot lie; but in the Apocryphall writings of Poets, who cannot speake the truth; being as false, fond and fabulous, as it is true, certaine and vnfallible. And I beginne with Poets the rather, because most men haue euer bene addicted to the reading of Poemes, being thereunto allured by their pleasant fictions, which insinuating themselues by little and little into their eares, haue in processe of time so setled in their minds, that they haue taken deepe rooting therein. Whereby we perceiue, how men in old time by entertaining of fables, and suffering them to lodge and harbour in their minds, haue bene brought to beleeue many fond fooleries, which haue bene conueyed from hand to hand, and deliuered by tradition from father to sonne. Whereas the Scripture hath bene locked vp (as it were) in an vnknowne tongue, as well from these great admirers and scorners of antiquitie, as from those of whom I am about to speake. Nay, many who haue had some smattering knowledge therein, haue reiected them

as more fabulous then meere deuised fables. For some poeticall fictions taken ori∣ginally from the sacred fountaine of veritie (as a true storie may be disguised sun∣dry waies) seeme more probable in some mens corrupt iudgement then the truth it selfe, as shall be exemplified in the Chapter following.

CHAP. I. A description of the first Age of the world, called by Poets Saturnes, and the golden Age: and how they haue depraued it with their foolish fictions, as they haue done other histories in the Bible.

IF we will giue any credite to Greeke and Latin Poets, we must con∣fesse that the first age (called by them the golden age) was as happy as a man could wish. For the ground without tilling or manuring plentifully affoorded all commodities for the life of man; which were common to all, seeing no man knew what mine and thine meant: and consequently were not acquainted with hatred, enuie and stealth, much lesse with warre; and therefore needed not to beare armes against any, saue onely (as some are of opinion) against wilde beasts, which they were not greatly to feare neither, considering their walles were so high that they could not spring them, and so strong that they could not demolish them. I say as some are of opinion: for others make no exception at all, but affirme that wilde beasts were then more gentle and tractable then tame ones are at this day: and that those which are now poisonfull and venimous (as experience shewes) were then nothing dangerous. But to leaue this dispute, and to prosecute my former description touching the particular, wherein all generally accord; we shall further beleeue (I say) that as there were then no lawes, so neither was there need of any, seeing no man wished the hurt or hinderance of his neighbour, neither was sollicited thereto by any meanes. Besides, they knew not what sicknesse meant: and as they were of a strong and sound constitution, so did they abound with all things necessary for the su∣stentation of mans life, albeit they knew not of what colour gold, siluer, copper, or other mettals were. For men were not then so curious to dig the earth to know what nature had hid in the bowels thereof. Besides, they minded not the sea, nei∣ther tooke they triall in what sort the windes did tosse the waues; for euery man abode at his owne home, like the snaile in her shel, or the Monk in his cell, nothing curious nor carefull to know what his next neighbours did; no more then the old man in Claudian, who though he dwelt within a quarter of a mile of Verona (or thereabout) yet neuer went thither in all his life: nor then the Venetian gentleman, who being almost foure score and ten yeares old, neuer desired to go out of Venice vntill he was confined therein as in a prison. This (to omit the hony and milken riuers with such like toyes) is the summe of that which Poets haue deliuered tou∣ching the felicity of that age, and of that plaine, honest, and vpright dealing which was then in vse, notwithstanding the great plentie and abundance of all things, contrary to the old Greeke prouerb, which hath bene found too true of other ages, A good land, a bad people.

Now that this Poeticall description of the felicitie of the first age is true in generall (if we consider the state of man before the fall) we may not denie, except

we will call the Scripture into question: I say in generall, not insisting vpon parti∣culars, though Poets like wire-drawers extend it further then they are warranted by holy writ, which shewes how that immediatly after the fall of our first parents man did eate his bread in the swe••te of his browes, of which Poets also speake, though turkishing the storie, or (to speake more properly) turning it into a meere fable: affirming that the great God Iupiter created the world of a huge confused masse, which they call Chaos (wherein the elements were mingled pel-mell) and that Prometheus afterwards formed men of earth tempered with water, in the like∣nesse and similitude of the Gods. They adde moreouer, that he stole fire from hea∣uen, and conueyed it downe to the earth; wherea•• this great God was so highly offended (in that men by this meanes found out mechanical arts and sciences) that for a punishment he sent them a yong damsell framed by all the Gods, (each of them hauing bestowed something vpon her, some to perfect her in beautie, o∣thers to make her wanton, subtill, craftie, and full of alluring freights; Vulcan ha∣uing formerly framed the body of clay, and after infused the soule into it) and directed her first to Prometheus, who being wary and wise▪ would not receiue her, mistrusting some trechery: but his vnwise brother Epimetheus willingly accepted of her, & gaue her entertainment. Howbeit he felt the smart of it shortly after, and not he onely, but all his posteritie after him. For this Minion forthwith opened a box, whereout issued all manner of euils, mischiefes and miseries, which haue e∣uer since harboured in the world. Now vnder these fables and fictions lay the true story of the creation of our first parents, and of their Apostasie (as it were) mas∣ked and disguised. For by the first man framed by Prometheus, we are to vnder∣stand Adam; and by the yong damsell called Pandora, Eue, (who being brought to Adam, was the cause of his fall:) and by the fire which was stolne from hea∣uen (by meanes whereof men came to the knowledge of mechanicall arts) the forbidden fruite, whereby they had experimentall knowledge of good and euill.

True it is, all Poets stay not here; but (as it is the custome to amplifie and enlarge mens reports) adde that Prometheus fashioning the first man of earth, infused into him somewhat of the nature of euery beast (for all of them were then created) as namely part of the Lions fury, which he instilled into his breast. Howbeit poore Prometheus could not escape their sharpe censures, for not hauing duly considered of all things appertaining to the constitution of a humane body: as for not ma∣king windowes in his breast, whereby we might see what was in his heart; seeing most mens hearts and tongues agree no better then harpe and harrow. Againe, whereas some say, that this Pandora was the first woman that was made: others af∣firme that Prometheus framed a certaine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 number of women, immediatly after the creation of man, and they blame him more for this second worke then for the first: for he ought (say they) to haue considered sundry things in the framing of this sexe, which it seemeth he did not; alledging this among the rest, that he gaue vnto them as large a tongue as vnto men; whereas if they had had but halfe a tongue, they would haue pratled more then enough. But if Prometheus would make me his Proctour to pleade his cause, me thinkes I should not be vnproui∣ded of an answer: and though he giue me not my fee, nor request me to speake in his behalfe, yet I will answer in a word, that he knew not that women would prattle more then men; neither could he imagine how their ton••ues could vtter one thing, and their hearts conceiue another. No maruell therefore if he did not preuent the inconueniences which he did not foresee.

But to returne to the arguments which all Poets haue handled with one accord, borowing them from the Scripture, they tell vs strange tales of god-gastering Gi∣ants, who heaped mightie mountains one vpon another, which might serue them in stead of ladders to scale the heauens: whereas the Scripture speakes onely of such as would needs build a Tower whose toppe might reach to heauen: neither doth it call them Giants, though elsewhere it make mention of such. The floud likewise was a common argument with Poets, who agree with the Scripture in the cause wherefore it was sent, viz. as a punishment for the sinne of man.

Now in speaking of the golden Age, I thought it not amisse to proceed a little further, to treate of these Poetical fictions, to the end I may shew (as occasion shall serue) that if these narratiōs, being no better then wel qualified fictions (for as they are termed fables, so are they acknowledged to be no other) haue notwithstan∣ding some hidden truth in them, when they are diligently sought into, and soun∣ded to the bottome: we ought not lightly to condemne auncient histories, those especially whereunto auncient writers haue subscribed, as not hauing the least shew or semblance of truth. In the meane time I confesse, that as Poets haue dis∣guised, yea falsified sundry histories in the Scripture: so haue sundry historiogra∣phers likewise done, as namely Iosephus, and Eusebius in his Euangelicall prepara∣tion. I remember also, that when I was in Italie I read in one of their Libraries a fragment of Diodorus Siculus, where he speakes of Moses, turning him like Proteus into euery forme and fashion. And what (I beseech you) haue some historians written of the originall and religion of the Iewes? What haue they also spoken of our blessed Sauiour? And though I should grant all these to be fictions in histo∣rians, yet they shall pardon me (if they please) if I do not grant that a man trans∣ported with a preiudicate opinion may condemne any historie vpon his meere (and it may be foolish) fancie. For as there is no reason that the good should suffer for the bad: so neither that true stories should beare part of the punishment due to the false. Thus then I returne to the golden Age.

CHAP. II. Another description of the first Age of the world (called by Poets Saturnes, and the golden Age) as it is recorded in Scripture, after the fall of our first pa∣rents. And in what sence those two Epithets may be giuen to the Age wherein we liue.

POëts (as I haue shewed a little before) confine not the felicitie of the first age of the world (described in the former Chapter) in so straight and narrow bounds as the Scripture doth, but giue it a farre longer time and tearme of yeares. For the murder committed by Cain, is much more auncient then that committed by Romulus, or any mentioned in prophane story. Notwithstanding if we make the Scripture Iudge and Vmpire of this controuersie (as Christians ought) we must needs con∣fesse that simple and plaine dealing continued long after the fall of our first pa∣rents, in as great and ample measure, if not in greater then euer it did since; and that men were not so loose and licentious, so woluish and malicious in the golden Age, as in the ages following: in harmlesse innocencie and simplicitie, resembling

the russet-coates of the country, in comparison of subtill citizens. So that the mur∣ther committed by Cain, may seeme as strange (considering the time) as a mur∣ther committed at this day by a countrey Coridon, in comparison of one com∣mitted by a citizen or Courtier. But howsoeuer the mystery of that secret stand, certaine it is that such dissolute demeanour and loosenesse of life, such riot and ex∣cesse, such swearing and swaggering, was neuer heard of in the prime and infancy of the world as afterward towards the middle Age, and as now in the decrepit Age thereof; in the decrepite Age (I say) if we may beleeue our eyes, or iudge by the course and cariage of things, or credit such as are better able to iudge of such que∣stions then our selues. Neuerthelesse (vnder correction of better iudgement) I am of opinion that it fareth with the vniuerse or great world, as with man the litle world; in that The older it waxeth, the more it doteth. For he that shall seriously con∣sider the guise of the world at this day, cannot but say that it doteth extreamely, and that it resembles the age of our good grandsire, gray-bearded Saturne, whose old and auncient name it may iustly challenge to it selfe: though on the other side, it may well be called the golden Age, in the sence that Ouid applied it to his owne, when he saith,

Aurea nunc verè sunt saecula: plurimus auro Venit honos: auro conciliatur amor.

That is,

Golden is our latest worlds age most iustly reported: Gold alone our loue buyes: gold onely purchaseth honor.

CHAP. III. How some haue ascribed too much to Antiquitie, and others derogated too much from it.

LEt vs now consider, whether by our former description of the first Age, it may appeare whereon these great admirers and contemners of antiquitie rest and rely themselues. And let vs in the first place examine the reasons which they alledge for confirmation of their o∣pinions. First then we are to obserue, that the ouer-great reuerence which some haue borne to antiquitie, is sufficiently testified by certaine Latine phrases, as when we say, Nihil antiquius habui (that is, word for word, I esteemed nothing more auncient) in stead of this, There was nothing in the world so neare or deare vnto me; or, I had greater care of it then of any thing in the world besides. And, Nihil mihi est antiquius illa re, that is, I account nothing more deare, I hold nothing more precious. So Plautus, when he would commend a yong man to be well qua∣lified, saith he was indued antiquis moribus. Againe, the Latins call that prisca fides which the French call La bonne foy, that is, plaine meaning, simple and honest dea∣ling. And Cicero seemes to call those men antiquos, who vsed old and ancient sim∣plicitie, and were (as a man would say) plaine Dunstable. But the question is, what ground they haue for their opinion, who by such phrases do so highly ho∣nour and magnifie antiquitie? To which I answer, that they who call good man∣ners antiquos mores, and plaine dealing priscam fidem, allude (no doubt) to the golden Age, and the plaine simple dealing vsed in those dayes, as we haue descri∣bed it in the second chapter. Wheras it is certain that they which vsed this phrase,

Nihil antiquius habui, I esteemed nothing more auncient, in stead of, I had nothing in greater account, &c. had an eye to a further matter. Some say they respected the honour which was giuen to aged persons, which seemes to be more probable in that the Greeke word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is all one with the Latin, both for sound and sig∣nification: for it is applied to old men, whereas the Latin word antiquus is neuer vsed in that sence. Wherfore (vnder correction) I am of opinion that it is a phrase borowed from the great account and estimation which was had of antique works in former time, especially of painters and caruers. For when they spake of a picture or ancient statue, they meant a rare and exquisite peece of worke, which was much set by, and of great price: which they vnderstood not onely of the pictures of A∣pelles and Zeuxis, or of the statues of Scopas, Myron, Praxiteles, and like cunning artisans of those times (whose workes were then in farre greater request then those of Durer, Raphaël, and Michael Angelo are at this day) but of sundry other work∣men of meaner note and later times. About which toyes some haue bene excee∣ding curious. For Horace reporteth that one Damasippus was so caried away with curiositie in this kind, that it bereft him of his wits. And I leaue it to thy conside∣ration (gentle Reader) what the Poet (if he were now liuing) would say of these buyers, engrossers, and inhancers of Antikes, with whom the world is so pestered at this day, and at whose cost so many cheaters make such good cheare; who (poore soules) are so farre from discerning betweene antique and moderne, that they scarce vnderstand the meaning of the word••, (which, such as it is, was lately brought hither into France by some fidling Italian) and this it is which makes them put their hand so often to their purses, and pay for the pins. And verily the Sauoyard did featly and finely, who going about to catch a sottish Antiquary, foolishly fond of such toyes, after that the fantastick had courted him a long time, in the end for a goodly auncient monument shewed him his wife who was foure score yeares of age. But to returne to the argument in hand. Many men in times past were strangely possessed and besotted with this humorous and itching desire of antiquitie in matters of Poems and Poetry: a fault complained of in the second booke of the Greeke Epigrams, but much more by Horace, when he saith,

Si meliora dies, vt vina, Poëmata reddit, Scire velim pretium chartis quotus arroget annus. Scriptor ab hinc annos centum qui decidit, inter Perfectos, veteres{que} referri debet, an inter Viles atque nouos?

That is,

If Poëms wont as wine receiue their praise From lenger dayes: faine would I know what yeare Our writings mote in deare? If he that wrate About the date of hundred yeares agone, Be deemed one of writers ripe and sage, Or of the moderne age?

He further alledgeth sundry other arguments to this purpose, Lib. 2. Epist. 1. Well, be it so (may some say) that this phrase, Ie n'ay rien eu plus antique, that is, I esteemed nothing more auncient, had his originall from the great opinion which was had of antiques, whether building or pictures; but why were they had in so great account? To which (omitting Poets) I answer, that for as much as they had such exquisite and perfect workmen in old time, it seemes they were of opinion, that the nea∣rer their successors followed them, the more they retained of their perfection.

Another argument of our auncesters faithfull and plaine dealing, in doing the workes they tooke in hand more substantially then workmen are wont to do at this day, may be taken from the old and ancient manner of building, which seems to be of iron or of steele in respect of ours. I meane such buildings as were wroght with ciment. It will here (I know) be answered, that cyment is not now in vse. And I answer againe, that the small care which men haue had to worke soundly and substantially, neuer respecting how sleight and slender their buildings be, hath marred all. Howbeit if any man shall thinke this reason weake or insuffici∣ent, he may hold him to the former; which notwithstanding I durst not alledge of Poems, sith it holds not true in generall, but onely in particular. For though it may be truly said, that Homers great fame made other auncient Greeke Poets generally better thought of, by reason that this opinion possessed most mens minds, that the nearer they were vnto him in time, the perfecter they were in Po∣etry. Yet the same cannot be said of the Latin Poets. For it cannot be denied but that Virgil excelled all the Epickes: that Tibullus and Ouid wonne the garland from all the Elegiacks: that Horace was the chiefe of choise among the Lyricks. And (if I may be so bold as to interpose an example of the Poets of our time) would it not be iniurious (trow we) to our moderne French Poets de la pleiade, if their ancestors should be preferred before them? Verily I am of opiniō, that he that should prefer them before them, should do them as great wrong as they do sundry other Poets (their equals at least in time) in pearking before them, onely because their Muse is too maidenly, as being nothing so wanton and lasciuious as theirs, but resembling rather that of Ioachim du Bellay. But be this spoken as it were vnder Benedicite, and by way of parenthesis, and let this be the conclusion, that the reason formerly al∣ledged, why auncient workmanship was so highly esteemed, and in such request, is not generally true of Poems and Poetry: the reasons whereof I should here set downe, but that my occasions wil not permit me to trifle away the time with such toyes; I will therefore leaue it to those that haue more spare time and idle houres then my selfe.

Now as we begun to speake of the extollers of Antiquitie by the Latin phrase, so will we begin with the contemners of it by the Greeke: for as there are certaine Latine phrases which giue testimony of the reuerent opinion men were wont to haue of Antiquitie; so are there Greeke words which shew the contempt and dis∣grace wherein it was. For the professors of the Greeke tongue cannot, at leastwise ought not to be ignorant, that by 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (which in proper termes is as much as old and auncient) is meant a simple soule, or a nouice who is but newly crept (as it were) out of the shell. The reason of this their opinion is very apparent and plaine: for they called those 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (that is ancients) which were very simple, sottish, grosse and blockish, as being perswaded that men in old time (especially in the golden Age) were but simple swaines in comparison of those that came af∣ter. Thus then we see how Antiquitie hath bene admired by some, and con∣temned by others, for diuers reasons, as hereafter shall be declared more at large.

But here it shall not be amisse (for the winding vp of this Chapter) to examine a few ordinary French phrases appertaining to this argument. First then when we speake of antique workes (that is, of works made after the old fashion) we do it for the most part in scorne and contempt, contrary to the Latins, as if we should say Fait lourdement, rudely done; and (as our criticall coiners of new French words speake at this day) goffement, grosly or absurdly; the common people at Paris

say grosso modo. Contrarily, we honor Antiquitie much, in calling it Le bon temps, the good time. For when we say, those that were du bon temps saw not the vanities which we see; we meane the men of old time. The like honour we giue to aged persons, when we call an old man Bon homme, and an old woman Bonne femme; for a man shall heare them now and then (when they are called Bons hommes, bonnes femmes) reply and say (alluding to this second acception of the word) that they go not yet with a staffe. I obserued before, that that which the Latins call Prisca fi∣des, we French-men call La bonne foy. To which let me adde, that the Grecians sig∣nifie the same by 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which properly signifies a man of good behauiour, and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that is, ancient. For by both these words they are wont to expresse and signi∣fie a simple soule. And the Greeke word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 agreeth very fitly with our French phrase, Qui va à la bonne foy, or Qui va trop à la bonne foy, that is, one that is plaine Dunstable, who hath neither welt nor gard, but is as plaine as a pack-staffe, with∣out fraud, couen or deceit. Whereof we haue examples in Coridons of the coun∣trey, in whom we may see the simplicitie of ancient times in some sort shadowed out vnto vs. Albeit a man might find (if need were) enow such swaines euen in your chiefest cities. Witnesse the Embassadour sent to the Pope by a Germaine Prince, who taking his leaue of his Holinesse speaking vnto him in Latin, and say∣ing, Tell our beloued sonne, &c. was in such a chafe, that he had almost giuen him the lie, telling him that his Master was no Priests sonne, meaning that he was not a bastard. He likewise was plaine simplicitie, who being sent with a letter to the Queene of Nauarre, and commaunded to kisse it before he deliuered it. Because his Lord told him in words of doubtfull construction, Carry this letter to her Highnesse, and before you present her with it,* 1.1 Baisez-la; (which may be vnder∣stood either of the Queene or of the letter.) He was no sooner come into the pre∣sence, but he went to the Queene and kissed her (not doubting but that he had courted it brauely) and hauing so done, deliuered her the letter without further complement. We say also Aller à la bonne foy, when a man speakes any thing in sim∣plicitie, which would be harsh or hardly taken being spoken by another: as when a gentle Gillian told king Francis the first, that when she saw him in such a sute, she thought she saw one of the nine lepreux (that is, lepers) as they are vsually painted; whereas she would haue said, One of the nine Preux, that is, worthies. To these I may adde the example of the silly Sauoyard, who taking the sentence of con∣demnation which passed vpon him (whereby he was adiudged to be hanged) ve∣rie vnkindly, said, Hela messiau, ie vo priou per la pareille, fade me pletou copa la teste, that is, O good sirs, I beseech you, if you will haue me requite it, let me be beheaded. For in saying, if you will haue me requite it, he meant simply. It were easie to alledge sundry other examples of like simplicitie. But we are to consider, that though a sot and a swaine be very neare of kin, euen cosingermans at the least, yet we must distin∣guish them, especially if we wil follow the Grecians, who call the one 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, and the other 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. For though euery sot be a simple soule, yet euery simple fellow deserues not the name of a sot. For example, inciuilitie and rusticitie is not sottish∣nesse, except it be accompanied with lurden-like loutishnesse: although it come farre short of hers, who being chid by her mother because she did not thanke her affianced louer when he dranke to her; she telling her roundly of her fault, and saying, Canst thou not say the next time that he drinkes to thee, I pledge you, you great foole? Thinking surely she had learned her lesson better, forgat not the next time he dranke to her, to say, I pledge you, you great foole. He also meant not onely simply, but plaid the foole in graine, who ate the Phisitians prescript,

(I meane the paper wherein it was written) because he had bidden him take it. And I doubt not but the Reader wil giue me good leaue to enrole a certaine Swit∣zar in this register (for I hope I shall do his worship no wrong) who with great importunitie asked requitall and satisfaction for the French pockes which he had gotten in the Kings seruice. And if I durst be so bold as to speake of the Scots (who are all cosins to their King, as they say) I would here bring in a F. of this fra∣ternitie, who hauing heard none in his awne gude cuntrey but gentlemen of the better sort speake French, wondred not a litle to heare the poore people in France beg their almes in French, and little children speake it so readily. But lest any man should say that I spare mine owne countri-men, and spend my spirits vpon others, I wil here bring the silly Limosin vpon the stage, who hauing seene a Spaniel gentle sold at Lions for foure French crownes, highed him straight home againe, for cer∣tain great mastiues which he had left behind him, casting with himself what a dog of such a bignesse would affoord, if such a little puppet were sold at so high a rate. But a man had need to put on his considering cap, if he would finde fit termes to expresse such fooleries. For we dayly heare of sundry accidents, which at the first a man wold think were sottish, whereas they are rather to be counted foolish, as being in a higher degree. For though euery foole be a sot, yet euery sot is not a foole: which I might exemplifie in the Bishop (who was not onely a sot but also a foole;) who after he had trounced his Chanons in a tedious and troublesome suite, and tossed them from post to pillar, tooke order by his will that his tombe should not lie a∣long, but stand vpright in the Church, fearing lest after his death they should pisse on his head in way of reuenge. As foolish was he, who put out the candle that the fleas might not see him, and so might not bite him. He likewise deserued this name (what country-man soeuer he was) who burning his shins before a great fire, had not the wit to go backe, but sent for masons to remoue the chimney. Who also hauing seene some spit vpon iron to trie whether it were hot, spit in his pottage to know whether they were hot or not. The same sot being hit on the back with a stone as he rode vpon his mule, blamed the poore beast for kicking of him. It were easie to alledge sundry like examples of such silly sots (they being mo then a good many, and in such plentie that they are not daintie.) But these shall suffice to ex∣emplifie the former distinction, which hath bene and ought to be made betweene a sot and a simple swaine: which I was enforced, to make easie passage for that which foloweth, the better to prosecute my intended discourse. Howbeit there are certaine particulars which will puzzle a man shrewdly to tell to which of these three heads (or common places) they ought to be referred, those especially which seeme equally to participate of sottishnesse and simplicitie (I alwayes take simpli∣citie in the sence that we vse it when we say, He meaneth simply.) Wherefore leauing it to the Readers iudgement, I will only adde this one thing, that it is held in France a greater indignitie to be called sot then foole, notwithstanding my for∣mer discourse. The reason is, because that when we call a man a sot, we do it for the most part in earnest: whereas when we call him foole, we do it ironically and in iest; and therefore it is not taken in so ill part.

And now that I am speaking of the French phrase, let me adde one thing fur∣ther, which I shall desire the Reader to consider, viz. that (if my memory faile me not) we cannot call a man foole in French, but by the word fol; whereas we haue sundry synonimes for a sot. For Niais (in old French Nice) that is a nouice; Fat, that is, a foole; Badaut (called in sundry places Badlori) a cockneigh; Nigaud, a noddie; Badin, a boobie; and such like, are all sworne brethren (at least cosin∣germans)

to a sot. We also vse proper names in the same sence, as when we say C'est vn Benest, He is a simple cockscomb (for in this phrase it is pronounced Benest, and not as it is cōmonly Benoist.) Ioannes is vsed somwhat otherwise; for when we say, C'est vn Ioannes, it is as much as if we should say, He is a Pedant, or a quaint Quanquā for Epistles. And when we say, Vn bon Iannin (the vulgar sort saith Genin) we vnderstand a wittald, who takes it patiently when his wife makes him a horned beast. We further vse the word Gruë, that is, Crane, to signifie a sot: for C'est vn gruë, is as much as Ce'st vn sot, C'est vn niais; He is a simple sot, or a noddie. True it is, that a merry companion being sued for an action of trespas, and brought into the Court for calling one Bel oiseau, that is, faire bird, and then telling a tale of a Crane, was not so mad as to expound his meaning▪ but left it to the discretion of the Iud∣ges. For the plaintife accusing him for calling 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Bel oiseau, said that he had cal∣led him cuckold by craft, in calling him gosling. My Lords (quoth the defendant) I confesse indeed I called him Bel oiseau, that is, faire bird, but I denie that I meant a gosling, neither is it probable I should so meane, seeing there are (as himselfe confesseth) many birds fairer then a Gosling, were it but a Crane. Whereupon the Iudges (hearing him fetch ouer his aduersary so finely, and nettle him worse then before, the simple noddie neuer perceiuing it) brake forth into such a fit of laughter, that they were glad to rise from the bench, not knowing whether of them had won the day. And thus much of a Sot. If any shal here obiect, that we cal a man foole in French, and yet neuer vse the word, and therfore that fol hath his fellow, as wel as sot his synonime; I answer that it followes not; for my meaning was not that it could not be expressed by a periphrasis or circūlocution, but that it could not be expressed in one word; for I grant indeed, that whē we wold delay the harshnes of this phrase, Il tient du fol, He is but a foole, we say, Il a le cerueau gaillard, He is light headed, or, Il a le cerueau vn peu gaillard, He is somewhat giddie headed: whereas others say, Il n'a pas le cerueaubien fait, He is somewhat brainsick; or Il n'a pas la teste bien faite, He hath a crackt cranny; or, Il y a de la Lune, He is lunatik; or, Il y a de l'heu∣meur, he is humorous. The word Innocent, as when we say, C'est vn poure innocent, He is a poore innocent, importeth not so much: and Transporté, incensé, bestraught of his wits, mad, and such like, imply more, as comming nearer to the signification of fury. Now the reason hereof, viz. why we should haue such varietie of words to expresse a sot, and but one (if we speake properly) to expresse a foole, I leaue to be discussed by others, (except this perhaps be the reason, that there are mo sots then fools:) & wil here adde one thing more touching those phrases of which we spake in the first place, viz. that (if I haue rightly obserued) we vse the word Moutō, that is sheepe, tropically, not so much to signifie a sot, as a simple ••oule, who suffers himself to be led by the nose, as we say. Which is common to vs with the Grecians, as with Lucian among the rest, saue that he vseth the word drawing & not leading. He hath also another prouerb to the same effect, the meaning wherof is, as if one shold say, He follows him as a sheep doth a greene bough: which may serue to confirme the vse of this metaphor in our tong. Howbeit we haue no need of Lucians authoritie in this case, seeing Aeschylus (one of the ancientest Greek Poets) vseth it in the same sence.

But to omit the phrases formerly spoken of (which are so many pregnant proofs of the contempt of Antiquitie) we will in the sequell of this discourse alledge o∣thers when we come to speake of those Poets who (contrary to the current and common receiued opinion) thought it a farre happier thing for them that they li∣ued in their owne age, then if they had liued in any other. And verily my purpose was here to haue spoken of them at large, and to haue added them as a supplement

to this Chapter, but that I perceiue I haue already passed my bounds. Howbeit I haue an excuse at hand, viz. that he which hath any dealing with fooles can ne∣uer haue done.

CHAP. IIII. How and wherefore certaine Poets so earnestly desired the golden Age.

WHen Poets (whose writings serue vs in stead of mirrours, wherein we may behold mens turbulent passions) compared the fashions and customs of their owne age with those of the golden Age, they could not but wish that it had bin their hap they had bin borne and liued in those dayes. We haue an example hereof in Tibullus, who hauing recounted the happinesse of those times (which, to omit other particulars, were not harried nor rent in sunder with warres and garboiles▪) breakes out into this patheticall wish:

Tunc mihi vita foret, vulgi nec tristia nossem Arma, nec audissem, corde micante, tubam.

That is,

Liu'd I againe, I neuer more would weare No deadly armes, nor neuer more would heare The trumpets warlike sound.

Neither are we to wonder at this his wish, seeing that Hesiod (who liued many hundred yeares before) sigheth and saith:

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

That is,

Would I mought liue in this leud Age no more, But or had since bene borne, or dide before.

But he greatly deceiued himselfe (good man) in thinking he should not haue bin so vnfortunate if he had liued in the Age following. For this is no new saying, which is commonly spoken by way of aequiuocation, Le monde va tousiours à l'empire: The world growes dayly worse and worse: witnesse Aratus another Greeke Poet, who in the Poeme out of which Saint Paul tooke an hemestichion, hath these words:

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

That is,

Our golden Sires left as their last bequest, An age some deale impaired from the best: And you shall framen for your future heires, A worse then theirs.

In imitation whereof Horace saith,

Aetas parentum peior auis, tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem.

That is,

Our parents age, worse then our auncestors, Hath borne vs worse then they, and we shall breed A farre more vicious seed.

But how commeth it to passe (may some say) that our parents should be more vi∣cious then their fathers and grandfathers, and they likewise then their forefathers, and that we (in like sort) should exceed not onely them, but all our ancestors, and our children vs? The reason hereof (me thinkes) is euident. For as he which is sole heire to many rich men, hauing besides the inheritance left him by his father, much more wealth accrewing vnto him otherwayes, must needes be richer then they whose heire he is: In like maner, it cānot be, but that they who are left heires de Asse of all their auncestors vices, and by their good husbandry improue the old, and daily purchase new, should in the end be more vicious then they whose heires and successors they are. Seeing then it is plaine and apparent by vndoubted sto∣ries, that euen those sinnes among the rest, against which God hath thundred out such fearfull curses in his law, haue bene so rife in the world since the golden Age, and euer since running vpon the score; can we wonder to see them now innume∣rable? When I say from the first age, I speake according to the Scripture, which con∣fineth mans happie estate in farre lesse compasse then prophane writers are wont to do, namely, during that short time that our first parents continued in the estate of Innocencie. And some among them confine it in farre shorter bounds and li∣mits then others; as Iuuenal by name, when he saith,

Antiquum & vetus est alienum Posthume lectuns Concutere, atque sacri genium contemnere fulcri. Omne aliud crimen mox ferrea protulit aetas, Viderunt primos argentea saecula moechos.

That is,

Of ancient standing is that pleasing sinne, By wanton stealth of warming others bed: Each other crime the iron Age did gin, The siluer world it selfe some letch••••s bred.

But who would euer beleeue that Adultery should haue bene so common in the siluer Age, and other vices not once knowne nor heard of til the iron Age? Verily though the Scripture were silent in this particular, and did not affirme the contrary in the story of Cains murther, yet I see not how any man should giue entertain∣ment to this conceit. His meaning therfore (I take it) was to shew, that whoredom and adultery were the vices whereunto men in all Ages were most addicted. And how should the heathen and prophane Pagans make conscience of such sins, when as Christians (euē those that are otherwise vnspotted of the world) account them but workes of nature, and trickes of youth.

Howsoeuer the case stand, certaine it is, that the first Age was not wished for without cause. For whatsoeuer corruption was in those dayes, it was but small (in all probabilitie) in comparison of that of later times, which like bad weed hath euer growne with speede. True it is, that as we (considering the corruption of these times, and the wickednesse of mans nature) can hardly beleeue it should be grea∣ter: so did our auncestors iudge of the corruptions of their owne. Iuuenal speaking of his own Age, saith that it did so degenerate, and was so debased from the purity of the golden Age, that it deserued no longer to be called by the name of any met∣tal; thereby signifying that he should grace it much that should call it the iron Age,

considering it did so farre outstrip it in all excesse of riot. And Ouid speaking of the vnconscionable couetousnesse of the men of his time, saith, he could not imagine how it should be greater. But if Ouid were deceiued, in thinking that the wicked∣nesse of his time was then in the ruffe, much more was Hesiod, who liued so many Ages before. But sinne and impietie did then so abound, and like a great deluge did so master the banks and ouerflow all, that he thought it a thousand times better to haue liued either before or after the first Age, perswading himselfe that it was so vnlikely there should come a worse, that he thought it not possible that any should match it. And therefore as we may not thinke that the golden Age was without all corruption (albeit Poets extoll it to the skies, and sing forth a thousand praises in commendation thereof:) so neither are we to doubt but that the Ages ensuing retained some seeds and sparkes (as it were) of the first, notwithstanding the cla∣morous complaints they make against 〈◊〉〈◊〉. For that which Iuuenal saith in com∣mendation of the golden Age, viz. that they accounted it a capitall crime if a yong man (were he neuer so rich) had not risen from his seate, and done reuerence to an old man, though neuer so poore, was practised long after by the Lacedaemonians, who punished such an offence, either with death, or with some grieuous punish∣ment. And what great reuerence the auncient Romaines bare to old age, we may reade in Valerius Maximus.

CHAP. V. How that whatsoeuer Poets haue written of the wickednesse of their times, might haue bene affirmed of the Age last past.

ALbeit it be a vsuall thing with Poets, so to amplifie the matter they intreate of, as that they make mountaines of mole-hils, and there∣fore their testimony may well be suspected, notwithstanding I dare be bold to say, that they haue written nothing of the leudnesse of their times which can iustly be challenged, especially if we com∣pare it with the practise at this day. And surely if Poets ought not to be suspected, much lesse Historiographers, who take not so great libertie to themselues, not∣withstanding they make relation of such detestable facts as seeme past all beliefe: Thucydides by name, who discoursed at large of the plague which swept away an infinite number of people at Athens; in whom we find the raging and furious lusts of some (miscreants rather then men) to haue bene such and so great, that they tooke occasion by that so terrible a scourge, to practise their villanies. If there be any that cannot subscribe to this his report, let him but inquire what was done in the yeare 1564. the plague being at Lions (a Christian citie, not heathenish as A∣thens was) especially by the souldiers of the citadell, and he will no doubt, not onely beleeue them to be most true, but will further iudge them excusable and tol∣lerable in comparison. To be short, to what outrage (may we thinke) would not they let loose the reines of their head-strong affections, who made it an ordinary thing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 defloure maids, and to force matrons euen then when they were infected with the noysome and contagious disease of the plague and pestilence, and now ready to giue vp the ghost? What language is there vnder the cope of heauen (I except not the Greeke it selfe, the most flowing and copious of all that are or haue bene) that can affoord vs a word sufficiently emphaticall to expresse so brutish, so

desperate and furious a fact. Questionlesse if the Turkes had heard of such villanie they would haue abhorred it as hell it selfe: and not so onely, but would haue doubled and trebled the hatred they beare vs for our religion.

But it shall not be impertinent before we proceed to a further and more ample discourse of the guise and fashion of this Age, to enquire how euenly our aunce∣stors (which liued some three or fourescore yeares ago) caried themselues (where I confine this word Age within somewhat straighter bounds then others com∣monly do) considering the world waxeth daily worse and worse. ••o whom then may we haue recourse to make inquiry hereof? Verily to the Preachers which li∣ued in those dayes, and amongst others, for France, to Frier Oliuer Maillard, and Frier Michael Menot: for Italy, to Frier Michael Barelete (aliâs de Bareleta:) who though they haue infinitely corrupted Christian Religion with their doting dreames and foolish fancies, and with sundry wicked speeches, proceeding partly from blockish ignorance, partly from meere malice; notwithstanding they quit themselues like valiant champions, in encountring the vices which raigned in those times, as shall appeare in the sequell of this discourse. I will then (as occasion shall be offered) begin each seuerall argument with Oliuer Maillard (as being Me∣nots auncient) and after I will come to Barelete, one of another country. And first (because it suteth so well with that which hath bene said) I will shew how all of them in generall, and euery of them in particular, find the wickednesse of their times so intollerable and superlatiue, that they iudge it infinitely to surpasse the leudnesse of all former Ages. Marke then the words of Oliuer Maillard, fol. 96. col. 3. Audeo tamen asserere quòd multi sunt peiores in quarto anno nunc, quàm aliâs in septimo: & nunc in septimo, quàm aliâs in aetate perfecta. And a little before, viz. fol. 81. col. 2. Et quum nunquam fuerint maiores luxuriae, iniustitiae & rapinae, quā nunc, ideo, &c. Likewise fol. 217. O Deus meus, credo quòd ab incarnatione Domini nostri Iesu Christi, non regnauerunt tot luxuriosi in toto mundo, sicut nunc Parhisius. Menot (who liued certaine yeares after) saith as much in these words: Legatis historias, & non inuenietis quòd mundus fuerit ita deprauatus, sicut nunc est. To which (besides the former sentences already alledged out of Maillard, iumping with it in sence and meaning) hee hath one which sutes it both in sence and words. In another place he twits his auditors not so much for their non-proficiencie in that they did not amend, as for their deficiency, in that they waxed daily worse and worse. Let vs now come to Barelete. Nunquam (saith he fol. 261. col. 1.) mun∣dus fuit tam malus vt nunc, neque tam separatus à Dei amore & proximi, vt nunc est. Thus we see how all three (though liuing in seuerall countries) iumpe and accord in one, in taking vp the same complaint against the wickednesse of their times, as farre surpassing all the outrages and enormities of former ages. Let vs in the next place consider how they vpbraide Christians with the same vice, affirming that Turkes and other Infidels leade not so loose a life by many degrees. Maillard ha∣uing reported how at Tours in the raigne of King Lewis the eight, the Iewes re∣proued Christians for saying that Christ died for them, and yet blasphemed and cursed him, hath these words: Audeo dicere quòd plures insolentiae fiunt in Ecclesia Christianorum quàm Iudaeorum. And fol. 147. col. 2. he saith he had conuersed with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Moores, and found them farre honester men then the Christians then living in France. Frier Michael Menot saith no lesse: Sunt Iudaei in Auinione, & sunt Pagani in patria sua: sed firmiter credo, quòd secluso lumine fidei perfectiùs, moralius{que} viuunt quàm hodie plures Christiani, nec tantae miseriae fiunt inter eos sicut inter nos. Nescio de quo vobis seruiat nomen Christianitatis, & fides Christi, quam recepistis in Baptismo.

Let vs now heare what Barelete telleth his Italians, fol. 24. col. 1. Non est plus erubes∣centia tenere publicè concubinas, accipere sacramenta falsa, & omnia illicita perpetrare: A Saracenis, ab Agarenis, ab Arabis, ab Idumaeis, à Mahometanis, à Barbaris, à Iudaeis, ab infidelibus, ô false Christiane haec accepisti.

CHAP. VI. How the former Age hath bene reproued by the aforesaid Preachers for all sorts of vices.

LEt vs now consider how the aforesaid Preachers declaiming thus in generall against the wickednesse of their times, do in particular also reproue and censure men for all sorts of vices. And that I may pro∣ceed in order, I will begin with that which (as Iuuenal would make vs beleeue) is of all other vices the most ancient, and so much the more ancient, by how much the siluer Age is more ancient then the iron Age. What is this vice, may some say? Surely whoredome, otherwise called carnalitie, sensuality or lechery. (For that which Iuuenal saith of adultery, ought rather to be vnder∣stood of simple fornication.) But for breuitie sake I will alledge their owne words (where they reproue whoredome in generall, calling it Luxuriam;) yet so, as I wil not make a medley or mixture of Church-mens lubricitie with lay-mens lechery, which method I wil also obserue in discoursing of their other vertues, lest it should be said that I did confound the spiritualtie with the temporaltie, or that I did miscêre sacra profanis, mixe sacred things with prophane, (as it is in the Latine pro∣uerbe.) I am therfore to intreate our holy mother the Church to haue patience a while, till I haue got our three good Latinists dispatch the temporaltitie: and then I will do her this honour, to place her apart by her selfe.

Let vs then heare Oliuer Maillard, who (to omit other particulars concerning this sweete sinne) is much offended with gentle-women for making their husbands weare the hornes. fol. 81. col. 2. Et vos domicellae quae habetis tunicas apertas, numquid mariti vestri sunt cornuti, & ducúnt vos ad banqueta? And thereupon saith, that the King of England consulting on a time with his Councel, whether he should wage warre against the French or not, it was concluded he should, because the English were appointed by God, to be as it were his scourge, wherewith he would punish the sinnes of the French. Whereupon he addeth, Et cum nunquam fuerint ma∣iores luxuriae, iniustitiae, & rapinae, quàm nunc: ideo decretum fuit vt venirent. We haue alreadie heard how he saith in his braue Latine: O good God, I am fully per∣swaded that there was neuer such riot in the world since the incarnation of Christ, as there is now at Paris. Further, he complaineth (fol. 136. col. 4.) of the Parisians, which let their houses to panders, whores, and bawds. And that whereas good King S. Lewis caused a brothel-house to be built without the citie, there were then stewes in euery corner. And in the page following directing his speech to Law∣yers, Ego non habeo nisi linguam: ego facio appellationem, nisi deposueritis ribaldas & meretrices à locis secretis; habetis lupanar ferè in omnibus locis ciuitatis. Likewise fol. 84. col. 4. where are the statutes of holy King Lewis? He commaunded that stewes should be remoued farre from Colledges: but now the first place that scho∣lers runne vnto when they step out of a Colledge, is a bawdy house. Againe, the foresaid King Lewis would haue swept all whores cleane out of ••his Realme,

〈◊〉〈◊〉 (to auoid a greater inconuenience) he was counselled to let them make their a∣bode in the suburbes, or in some remote place without the citie. And he sheweth elsewhere, that himselfe was iumpe of the same opinion. So that he, who as a prea∣cher of the word ought to haue reformed others, had need himselfe to be refor∣med, as hereafter shall be declared more at large. But to proceed on in my dis∣course, this iolly preacher complaineth, that bawdes made their bargaines with strumpets in the very Church, and therupon he calleth them sacrilegious persons. Moreouer, he maruelleth (which is a ridiculous conceit, albeit he spake it in great simplicitie) that the Saints there interred did not rise againe and plucke out their eyes. Neither doth he spare those mothers that are bawds to their owne daugh∣ters: as fol. 24. Súntne hic matres illae maquerellae siliarum suarū, quae dederunt eas homi∣nibus de curia, ad lucrandum matrimoniū suum? And fol. 35. col. 4. after he hath said, Where are you my masters, ye Iustices of Peace and Quorum? Why do you not punish the whore-mongers, bawds, and ruffians of this citie? and shewed how they let such theeues as these go Scot-free, whereas they seuerely punished com∣mon felons: he commeth to speake of bawdie bargaining, (a fact farre more de∣testable then the former) viz. how they made their daughters get their dowries with the sweate of their bodies: & faciunt eis (saith he) lucrari matrimonium suum ad poenam & sudorem corporis sui. And fol. 125. col. 2. Were it so hard a matter (think you) to find some in this towne who in their yonger yeares were arrant whores, and now being old crones are become common bawds? I charge you with it you Magistrates, for leauing such persons vnpunished. If a man steale but twelue pence, he shall surely be punished for the first offence: and if he steale the second time, he shall leaue his eares on the pillorie, or otherwise be punished with the losse of limbe (for he saith, esset mutilatus in corpore:) if the third time, he shall regaine the losse of his eares by stretching of his necke. Now tell me ye Iustices of Oyer & Terminer, whether it be worse to steale a hundred crownes, or to sell a maides virginitie?

But let vs heare what Menot saith (fol. 15. col. 3. of the second impression, which I follow) Nunc aetas iuuenum ita dedita est luxuriae, quòd non est nec pratū, nec vinea, nec domus, quae non sordibus corum inficiatur. Likewise fol. 148. col. 1. Nunc aqua luxu∣riae transit per monasteria, & habetis vsque ad os, loquendo de ea. And a little after: In suburbijs, & per totam villam non videtur alia mercatura, other ware. In cameris exer∣centur luxuriae, in senibus, iuuenibus, viduis, vxoratis, filiabus, ancillis, in tabernis, & consequenter in omni statu. True it is indeed, he is somewhat troubled in assoyling a question which he propoundeth in the behalfe of yong maried men, who by reason of their affaires and businesse abroad, are often enforced to go from home. Fol. 139. col. 4. Cognoscitis quòd non possumus, &c. You know we cannot alwayes haue our wiues tied at our girdles, nor carry them in our pockets: in the meane time our yong gallants cannot liue without borrowing of their neighbours. Let a man come into Tauernes, Innes, hot-houses, and such like places, and he shall find wenches for the purpose, common as the high way, that will serue his turne for a small price. I demaund whether it be not lawfull for a man to vse them as his wife? Lo here a question which he propoundeth in the person of certaine good fellowes: whence we may gather, what small conscience they made of such things in those dayes. For whereas he should haue sharply censured the mouers of such questions, and haue cut them off in a word, he answereth as one who thought it a very serious matter, which required deepe and mature deliberation before he gaue his final resolution. Notwithstanding he shifteth his fingers very finely of all,

without disparaging his reputation. Moreouer he crieth out (as well as Frier Mail∣lard) against bawdie bargaining, wicked wenching, and villanous plotting vsed in Churches. Fol. 94. col. 2. Si sit quaestio facere & tractare mercatum de aliqua filia ra∣pienda, aut alio malo faciendo, oportet quarere mag••as Ecclesias, &c. And he sheweth elsewhere, how the Church was made the rende-vous for all their merry-mad-mee∣tings. Yet one thing there is which maketh him shed teares, viz. that mothers sell their daughters to bawds. Fol. 97. col. 4. Et quod plus est (quod & flens dico) numquid non sunt quae proprias filias venundant lenonibus?

Barelete likewise complaineth hereof: fol. 28. col. 1. Non est amplius verecundia publicè tenere concubinas: sinitur vxor, & nutritur putana cum manicis rubeis. And in sundry other places he takes vp the same complaint, especially against whoredome committed by Nunnes (whereof I find nothing in Maillard or Menot) as fol. 42. col. 1. Ad moniales conuentuales, quae habent filios spurios.

But to proceed to other villanies, as incests, sodomies, and the like sins against nature: I do not remember that I haue read much of them in Menot; howbeit Maillard saith in generall, fol. 278. col. 3. Taceo de adulterijs, stupris, & incestibus, & peccatis contra naturam. And fol. 300. col. 1. Si credant fures, falsarij, fallaces, adulteri, & incestuosi, &c. And he inueigheth in particular against Sodomie, fol. 262. col. 2. Howbeit he speaketh not of it as of a thing whereof men made a trade and occu∣pation, but onely (hauing shewed what the Scripture saith of such villanie) addeth that many Christians are so blinded and besotted therewith, that they are not ashamed to defend it. But Barelete (hauing to deale with Italians) crieth out often against it, as fol. 58. col. 2. O quot sodomitae, ô quot ribaldi! And fol. 72. col. 1. he addeth another mischiefe which followeth in the necke of the former: Hoc impedimento impedit Diabolus linguam sodomitae, qui cum pueris rem turpem agit. O naturae destru∣ctor. Impeditur ille qui cum vxore non agit per rectam lineam. Impeditur qui ••um bestijs rem turpem agit. O bestiâ deterior. Likewise fol. 24. col. 1. he ioyneth Sodomias with Cardinalitates, vnder which word lyeth hid (no doubt) some great mysterie: but I leaue it to some Delius or Oedipus: his words are these: Quis te conducit ad inhone∣states, & ad libidines, & cardinalitates, & ad sodomias? Howsoeuer it be taken, cer∣taine it is, his meaning was to expresse some great cardinall vertue by cardinalitates, in placing it betwixt whoredome and sodomie.

Thefts also are sharply censured by these three preachers, as also rapine and ex∣torsion. Howbeit they insist longer (and not without cause) vpon such thefts as are not accounted thefts, but go scotfree and vnpunished, then vpon others; and chiefly vpon vsury. First then Maillard hauing alledged this distinctiō out of Tho∣mas of Aquin betweene theft and rapine; that rapine is when he that is spoyled of his goods doth not know it; yet afterwards he sheweth another acception of the word, saying that rapine is committed openly, and theft (which he calleth fur∣tum) secretly. He accounteth then that to be rapine or robbery, when a man ha∣uing power and authoritie in his hands, doth depriue another (who is not able to withstand him) of his goods, as when a Prince or a gentleman taketh his subiects or tenants goods by force and violence. Further he saith, that the maner of stealing vsed by souldiers, is robbery. That is also called robbery (saith he) which ought ra∣ther to be called concussion, as when the master withholdeth his mans wages, the mistris her maids, &c. Of all which thefts he speaketh as one that wanted not store of examples. But let vs proceed to greater polling, stealth and rapine, and first, that which is practised by vsurers. Besides grosse and palpable vsury (saith he) there is cloaked vsury, whereof he brings these examples. This cloaked vsury is when one

standing in need of mony, commeth to a treasurer (to whom he is directed) to re∣ceiue a thousand crownes; the Treasurer tels him, he cannot haue it till after a fort∣night, at which time he is to receiue a certaine summe of mony. The poore man answers, that he stands in great need of it, and cannot stay. Well then (saith the Treasurer) sith it must needs be so, you shall haue the one halfe of it in mony, and the other halfe in wares: and so deliuereth him wares for two hundred crownes which are scarce worth an hundred. He further alledgeth this example. An vsurer lendeth a merchant-venturer an hundred pounds, vpon condition that if the mer∣chandize prosper and come to good, besides the principall he shall giue him halfe of his gaine; if not, he shall restore the principall againe. Whereupon he addeth, Et sic quotiens ponitur capitale in lucro, & lucrum sub dubio, ibi est 〈◊〉〈◊〉 palliata. He further alledgeth another example which I here omit, and come to treasurers, at whom he girdeth in sundry places, as fol. 83. col. 4. As for you Clarkes of the Ex∣chequer, and you Treasurers, do not Captaines giue you ten crownes to hasten their pay? This I tell you is vsury. You say, your office is little worth of it selfe, but that your vailes, practise, and dealing is good. The diuell take such dealing: Ad om∣nes diabolos tales practicae. You say moreouer your offices cost you much, and ther∣fore you must helpe your selues one way or another, and fill your bagges againe. All this is not worth a blew button; nay all such dealing (I can tell you) is very dangerous. And ye gentle-women, do ye not weare rich furres and girdles of gold by this meanes? You must either make restitution for this geare, or be damned to the diuell, chuse you whether. Againe, fol. 87. col. 3. speaking of filthy lucre, This (saith he) concerneth receiuers and treasurers wiues, &c. For when a man is to re∣ceiue a summe of mony, before he can get a farthing from them, he must present their wiues with some faire ring, girdle, or gowne. And fol. 83. col. 4. he twits Church-men for giuing their tythe corne vpon vsury: and he vpbraideth com∣mon bankers with their lending of ten crownes vpon a peece of land, that in the meane time they may haue the possession of it: and merchants also, who len∣ding their merchandize in stead of mony, value them at twice so much as they be worth; which he formerly layd in the Treasurers dish, as we haue heard.

Menot in like sort crieth out as well against close and cloaked vsury (to vse his owne words) as open and manifest: when he saith, Hodie sunt publicae vsura, non coopertae vel palliatae, sed omnino manifestae, ita vt videamur esse sine lege. And in ano∣ther place, Poore men are pilled and polled with greater vsuries at this day then euer were practised by the Lombards or Iewes, for which notwithstanding they were banished France. Fol. 100. col. 3. Fuerunt aliâs Longobardi & Iudaei expulsi à regno Franciae, quòd totam terram inficiebant vsuris: sed nunc permittuntur crassiores Diaboli vsurarij quàm vnquam fuerint Longobardi siue Iudaei. (Sutable whereunto we may obserue how Maillard saith, Vos dicitis quòd illi qui tenent banquos ad v∣suram sunt de Lombardia.) He addeth, Et adhuc quod fortiùs & vehementiùs ladit cor meum, sunt illi qui dicūtur sapientiores. So that his opinion concerning vsurers is this, that if diuels should come downe from heauen by thousands vpon the earth, they would not so endammage and spoile poore people as one great diuellish vsu∣rer doth in one onely parish. Fol. 17. col. 3. Credite mihi, si mille Diaboli descenderent de aëre in terram ad perdendum bona pauperum, non tot mala facerent quanta vnus grossus diabolus vsurarius in vna parochia. Et tales sunt fugiendi sicut Diaboli. Fur∣ther, in discoursing and laying open their wickednesse to the world, fol. 196. col. 1. he saith, that if these wicked wretches chance to reade a prognostication which foretelleth a dearth of corne or wine, they buy vp all that comes to the market, or

can be got for mony; and hauing boorded it vp, will not part with it, no not for the reliefe of the poore people, except they pay double the price. By which cruell and tyrannicall dealing, they being so pinched with pouerty, euen yell for hunger, and die without mercie. And fol. 110. col. 4. These grosse diuellish vsurers haue so gnawed the poore people during the dearth, that they haue nothing left whereon to liue, except they should flea themselues and sell their skinnes. Where note the phrase which he vseth, alluding to the place which he had before alledged, Pelli mea consumptis carnibus adhaesit os meum. Thereby shewing that the poorer sort haue iust cause to take vp this complaint. Likewise fol. 8. col. 2. & 3. O vos miseri v∣surarij, per vestras vsuras destruitis pauperes, & ponitis eos nudos in magna miseria: homines sine misericordia & ratione. Vos habetis hoc anno vestrum Paradisum, quòd videtis hoc anno esse magnam indigentiam bladi; ideo vestrum pauperibus venditis in duplo plusquam emistis. Vestra horrea plena sunt, & populus fame oruciatur. And fol. 23. col. 3. Sic faciunt isti grossi vsurarij, qui volunt decipere pauperem, dando ei bladum, vt tandem possint habere suam haereditatem. But he discourseth of this more largely else∣where, shewing how in a cheape yeare they would say to the poore farmers that brought them their rent corne, Sell it, sell it, and keepe the mony to your selues, for we need it not yet: and so would watch these poore soules (as it were) by the way, and in the end would call for all the arrerages when it was deare; so that they be∣ing not able to pay their rent, were constrained to leaue them their lands, and to giue them for full paiment in stead of corne. For these gallants (as we may gather by the writings of this Preacher) put their confidence in that which many now a dayes rely vpon, viz. the founding of some Church, Chappell, or some religious house, or otherwise vpon the vertue of their almes, in being beneficiall to the Church at their death. Fol. 5. col. 1. Vos vsurarij putatis e••adere, dicentes, Ego commit∣tam vsuras, sed hoc est cum intentione fundandi vnam capellam. Barelete likewise doth now and then lay loade vpon these vsurers, especially in the former particular mentioned by Menot, viz; that Iewes were banished out of France by reason of their vsuries: and yet more villanous vsurers were to be found among Christians then euer were among them. Men now adayes (saith he) are nothing ashamed to put out their mony to vsury, no not to haue dealing and traffick with the Iewes. More∣ouer he maketh a sermon of purpose De vsuris & restitutione rei alien••, alledging sundry reasons why vsury should not be tolerated: where (to omit other particu∣lars) he cries out in this sort: O what a number are there, who in few yeares of very poore, are growne exceeding rich per fas & nefas? Such a poore man hath bought a cheese, which he neuer tasted of; another hath bought cloth, wherewith he was neuer clothed. O ye vsurers wiues, if your gownes were put in a presse, the bloud of the poore would drop from them. And fol. 63. col. 4. he telleth vs of certaine v∣surers, who for ten measures which they lend, cause sixteene or a greater number to be set downe in the bill. And herupon he shews what punishment was inflicted vpon an vsurer at Creme in his time, who lending ten bushels of corne, caused fif∣teene to be set downe in his book, viz. that the notary was punished with the losse of his hand, and the vsurer with the losse of all his goods. And they could not chuse (I suppose) but he euen hoarse againe with exclaiming against the thefts and polling practises of our lawlesse Lawyers, as Proctors, Aduocates, Iudges and such like. Of Aduocates Maillard saith, that they take à dextris & à sinistri••: and he relateth a very pleasant story of a suite canuassed betweene two Lawyers in a certain citie of France, in the raigne of king Lewis the twelfth. A rich husband man (saith he) intreated one of these good fellowes to be of his counsell, and to follow

a sute which he had in the court; which thing he vndertook. About 2. houres after came the aduerse partie (who was a very rich man) and intreated him in like man∣ner to pleade his cause against a certaine husbandman: which he also took in hand. The day being come wherein the cause should be heard, the husbandman came to put his Proctor in mind of his sute; who answered him, My friend when you came to me the other day, I gaue you no answer, because I was otherwise em∣ployed: and now I giue you to vnderstand that I cannot deale for you, hauing vndertaken your aduersaries cause; notwithstanding I will direct you by my letter to an honest man. Wherupon he wrote to another Lawyer as followeth: Two fat capons are fallen into my hands; hauing chosen the fatter, I send you the other; I will plucke the one, plucke you the other. And fol. 75. col. 1. Ye Counsel∣lers, do ye not alledge the lawes to ouerthrow right iudgement? Do ye not corrupt and falsifie depositions as much as lieth in you? Do ye not frame ap∣peales against God and your conscience to ouerthrow the aduerse part? Do ye not require the Iudge to giue sentence against equitie? Do ye not take money on both hands? And a little after: As for you Gentle-women (Counsellers wiues) do ye not weare girdles of gold and siluer, chaines and ribbands with beades of gold and of Ieat, which ye haue got by the cosining conueyance of these diuels your husbands? It had bene better for you to haue maried clownes. And fol. 185. col. 3. Ye wiues of such Counsellers, Atturneys, and Masters of requests, it were better for you to be hangmens wiues. Again, fol. 42. col. 3. O Domini de Parlamento qui datis sententiam per Antiphrasin, meliùs esset vos esse mortuos in vteris matrum ve∣strarum. And fol. 59. col. 1. he layeth open another notable peece of knauery. Ye Proctors (saith he) do ye not go to men in prison, and vse such or the like speeches: My friend you haue a house and two akers of vines; if you will giue them to such a Iudge, you shall be set free. Menot likewise discourseth at large in sundry places of thefts committed by Proctors and Counsellers, those especially that sell to the rich the poore mans right; I meane, which draw from the poore what possibly they can, and in the meane time betray them to their aduersaries, which come off roundly in paying their fees, and fill their purses better. When (saith he fol. 95. col. 3.) a cause hath hung in suspence foure or fiue yeares, an Atturney wil come to a rich man (who hath a poore man in sute, and hath the better end of the staffe) and will say vnto him; Sir, you must agree with your aduersary, for in the end you will be cast. After that, he will say to the poore man, My friend, you ouerthrow your selfe, it is not for you to go to law with such a great man; it is your best course to agree with him, and giue him the land for a hundred crownes, otherwise he wil begger you, and strip you of all. Whereupon he (poore soule) fearing the worst, is glad to giue the land for a hundred crownes, which is worth a thousand. And fol. 204. col. 1. heare what counsell an Atturney giues a silly fellow, O amice, oportet quòd tu accordes cum isto, quia aliter nunquam habebis pacem: nam tu vides that he is not worth a groate, and that he hath a shrewd head, and is like to trouble thee much. Dicam tibi tu non perdes totum; tu dicis, quòd ipse debet tibi centum scuta; habebis de∣cē, & eris contentus, si placet. Tunc dicet ille bonus homo, O quomodo possem facere istud? Nescirem: quia ego perdam rem meam nimis miserabiliter: ego non possem facere.

O (di∣cet ille) my friend melius est quòd tu hoc habeas quàm tu perdas totum: quia dicitur communiter: When a man hath lost his cow, and can but recouer her taile, it will serue to make a handle for a doore.

Neither may we wonder at the matter, consi∣dering the report which goes of the Court of Parliament which was in those daies. For he saith that the Parliament was wont to be the fairest flower in France:

but since that time it hath bene died in the bloud of the poore, who run weeping and wailing after them. And lest any should thinke that I adde any one sillable of mine owne, these are his words: fol. 104. col. 1. Dico quòd est pulchrior rosa quae sit in Franciâ quàm Parlamentum: id est, quod habet videre & super Ecclesiam, & super brachium saeculare. Sed ista rosa versa est in sanguinem: sic quòd est omninò tincta san∣guine pauperum clamantium & plorantium hodie post eos. Non mentior. Afterwards he saith, A poore man may be in Paris ten yeares following his suite, and yet still hang in the briers, and get nothing but his labour for his paines: whereas they might haue dispatched him in a weeke. And a little before he inueyeth against all Lawyers in generall, for that they make a number of poore people to trot after their mules tailes, not once vouchsafing them audience, though it concerne their vtter vndoing: whereby it commeth to passe, that these silly soules dying in the meane while in following their suites, leaue their children beggers, and their daughters in stead of being well married are constrained to become Catholickes. Likewise fol. 17. col. 2. we see rich men who hauing spent sixe or seuen yeares in following their suites, and their goods also, yet could not wind themselues out of this endlesse and inextricable labyrinth, but haue bene constrained in the end to go naked with a white sticke in their hand (for those are his words, Et exierunt omninò nudi cum baculo albo in manu.) Or hauing lost their cause, haue bene sen∣tenced by the Court to pay the whole charges of the suite, and so in a manner for∣ced to flie the countrey. And fol. 90. col. 1. Sic hodie vos Procuratores, Iudicet, & Ad∣uocati, facitis currere pauperes cum processibus vestris post caudas mularum vestrarum; manutenetis eos in his diabolicis processibus, vt semper possitis arripere pecunias, finger some money. And straight after, he mentioneth certaine suites that had hung f••ll twentie or thirtie yeares; so that two or three wranglers hauing spent both their liues and liuings in following the law, and leauing their heires nothing wherewith to follow it any longer, haue hung them vp at a hooke or a naile. And fol. 114. col. 4. Domini de iustitia, qui tenetis homines at a bay, clamantes, Sunt tres menses, vel tres anni, quibus habetis sententiam iam in capite vestro, quam potestis vno die ferre: sed semper ad augendum lucrum vestrum, facitis eos siccare post vos, vt incantatos sor∣tilegi; & currere post caudas mularum vestrarū, cum suis sacculis. Which agreeth well with that which Maillard casteth Iudges and Atturneys in the teeth withall: who (notwithstanding all their wrangling, bawling, and outcries one against another in open Court) prolong a suite full foure yeares for one onely dinner. I returne to Menot, who vpbraideth Atturneys (fol. 125. col. 1.) for keeping children in suite against their mothers, being widowes: and who crieth out against pettifogging Proctors, for counselling debters to stand stoutly vpon the deniall of the debt, when the creditor hath neither writ nor witnesse. The same preacher (speaking of such as enrich themselues at the poore peoples cost) complaineth of Princes who ouercharge their subiects with taxes and subsidies, as fol. 170. col. 1. Quantum ad populum, miseria in qua est, talis est: Moritur fame, quòd nunc patitur tallias, gabel∣las, rosiones, excoriationes; & nisi dimittat pellem non poterit amplius aliquid pati. Item fol. 108. col. 1. O vtinam illud attenderent domini iusticiarij, qui fauore Principum, vt eis obtemperent, obediunt nefandis eorum praeceptis, pauperem populum rodentes, exco∣riantes pupillos & viduas, nouas quotidie exactiones suscitantes. Nothwithstanding (saith he) Lawyers do more impouerish a poore man in a three-penie suite, then all tolles, impositions and customes, yea then all the souldiers that could come to his house in a yeare. For these Lawyers (whom he calleth the Kings officers) ap∣pointed for protection of the poore people, are like the Cat which keepeth the

Mice from the cheese, who if she once fall of eating her selfe, will do more hurt at one bit, then a mouse can do at twentie. He also exclaimes against Iudges for tollerating vsury and the stewes: and he vpbraideth certaine Lords of the Parlia∣ment, for making no conscience to let their houses to panders, whore mongers, and bawds. He recordeth also sundry other knaueries committed by other offi∣cers; as namely fol. 128. And directing his speech generally against all such as en∣rich themselues by vnlawfull meanes, hee saith, Ye gentlemen and gentlewo∣men, that haue all things according to your hearts desire, and weare Scarlet gownes, I verily thinke that if a man should presse them hard, the bloud of the poore (wherein they haue bene died) would drop out of them. Which Hyperbo∣licall and loftie kind of speech, is almost word for word the same with that of Ba∣relets (whereof we haue already spoken) who forgets not Lawyers (especially At∣turneys) no more then his fellowes; albeit he speake but little of them in compa∣rison. Fol. 109. col. 3. O persequutores viduarum, ô lupi rapaces, ô crudeles aduocati. See what he also saith, fol. 262.

I proceede to other thefts and pilferings committed by other trades-men, and men of other callings, and reprooued by these preachers, especially by Maillard, committed (I say) deceitfully either in false wares, or in false weights and measures, or otherwise by cunning conueyance. First then, fol. 70. col. 2. he saith, Vos domini notarij, fecistísne deceptiones in literis? Vnde dicitur com∣muniter in communi prouerbio, From three things good Lord deliuer vs, from a Notaries & caetera, from an Apothecaries Qui pro quo, and from an Italian figge: (where note by the way, that he keepeth a foule ado in sundry places with the A∣pothecaries qui pro quo.) And fol. 27. col. 2. as also fol. 66. col. 3. he is offended with diuers of them for mingling ginger with cinnamon, to make spices, and with such as lay bags and bundles of ginger, pepper, saffron, cinamon, &c. in a celler or vault vnder the earth to make them weigh the heauier. Moreouer, he inueyeth against Apothecaries for mingling oile with saffron, to giue it a fairer colour, and better weight. Fol. 68. col. 3. Not forgetting merchants among the rest, who powre water into their wools that they may weigh the heauier: nor Clothiers, who wet their clothes to make rhem stretch the better. He further reproueth infinite deceits in sundry other kinds, till he come euen to Vintners, who sophisticate their wine in mingling water therewith: and to Butchers who blow vp their flesh, and mingle swines grease with other suet. But he chafeth extremely against the hucksters, who buy with a great measure or weight, and sell with a lesse: and he is horne mad at those which helpe the ballance with their finger, to make it fall. Et quando pon∣deratis aliquid (saith he) datis de digito super stateram, vt descendat. He speakes also against Merchants who forsweare themselues, to the end they may sell the dearer, Merces suas plus periurijs onerando quàm pretijs: and against such as cut the poore peoples throates with their Monopolies: where we are to take Monopolies (ac∣cording to the proper signification of the word) for that which is vsually practised by the engrossers who get into their hands any commoditie the countrey will af∣foord, and afterward sell it at their owne price; which I do the rather insinuate, because the word Monopolie is commonly taken in another sence. But to returne to the periuries of Merchants. He vpbraideth them (page 331. col. 2.) for that they make no bones to forsweare themselues, and to damne their soules to the diuell for an halfe peny. Estis hic (saith he) qui pro vno albo estis contenti damnari? But Menot telleth vs of certaine merchants who made no conscience to forsweare themselues for a farthing. And he further sheweth, that their manner was (in those dayes) to

ouerprise their wares, and to sell that for a shilling, for which they were not asha∣med to aske ten. He is also much offended with those merchants, who not con∣tented to know cunning knacks of knauery, and to practise them dayly for their owne aduantage, do also teach them their children, scarce crept out of the cradle, fearing lest they should want wit to deuise them themselues: and how they teach them the tricke of the ballance (mensuram parui ponderis) threatning them that their children thus taught and trained vp by them, shall one day serue in stead of fagots and fire-brands in hell to burne them; as fol. 115. col. 3. and elsewhere. Bare∣lete is as busie as his fellowes in blazoning the knaueries committed by these co∣uetous caitiues in wares and merchandizes: where he bringeth in one of them al∣ledging this prouerbe, I wil (as the Florentine saith) haue an iron arme, an Ants belly, a dogs soule: that is, to the end that I may become rich, I will take as much paines as I am able to endure: I will shift with as little cost as possibly I can: as for con∣science, I will respect it no more then a dog. The last of which, agreeth well with this other prouerbiall saying, He that would quickly be rich, must turne his backe on God. Both which are true and infallible testimonies of the profanenesse & impiety which hath long since seized and taken possession of most mens minds, though especially applied to Merchants.

They censure blasphemies as sharply as other vices (which come in here very fitly after periurie, whereunto many are egged on by couetousnes.) First therfore to begin with Maillard, fol. 271. col. 1. O wicked wretches (saith he) which neuer cease swearing by Gods flesh, by Gods bloud, by the body of God, by Gods head, by Gods wounds, by Gods death. He elsewhere mentioneth other blasphemies, as I wil haue it in despite of God: I renoūce God, &c. And gamesters (saith he) are wont to say, In spite of God, which he expresseth in these words, In mala gratia sit hoc factū: Ie desauoue Dieu, Gallicè; I care not a blew button for God. Moreouer, he twits women with these their modest speeches and interpretations, The diuell take me; I would I might neuer come in heauen; I would I might be damned if euer I did or said this or that. And that when their husbands tooke them tardie, as in talking with their paramours, or any whom they suspected, and had in iealousie (for which he giues them one or two Items) their manner was to say, The diuell take me if euer he spake to me of any such thing. And he crieth out against their hellish blasphemies, as swelling againe not onely with the venime and poison of impietie, but euen of plaine Atheisme, as when they say, Let God keepe his heauen to himselfe, and let vs a∣lone, and follow our pleasures, Fol. 125. col. 3. And coming afterward to speake of blasphemous oathes (much like the former) he saith, And you base Christians which sweare by Gods wounds, by the bodie of God, and Gods bloud; is not this the language of the infernall lake? And fol. 140. col. 1. he reporteth that it was en∣acted by holy King Lewis, that blasphemers for the first offence should endure a moneths imprisonment, and after to be set on the pillorie, (for he saith, ponerentur in pilario: whereas Menot saith, Au carquan, or au collier:) for the second, that their tongues should be pierced through with a hote iron: for the third, that their vn∣der lippe should be boared through: for the fourth, that their tongues and lippes should be cut off. And we may not forget the place formerly alledged, where he reporteth how certaine Iewes at Tours (in the raigne of King Lewis the eight) hearing Christians swearing in most fearful maner, as if they meant to haue pulled Christ out of heauen, said, they wondred they would ••o outrage him, if they did beleeue that he died for them. Menot also is hote against the blasphemers of those times, telling them that it is all one as if they should spit in Gods face: alledging

out of Saint Chrysostome, that Christians sinne as grieuously which blaspheme Christ now being in heauen, as the Iewes did who crucified him when he was vpon earth. He further alledgeth sundry reasons why this sinne of all others is most to be detested, where he saith, O miseri, nunquam Diaboli ausi fuerunt facere quod facitis. And sheweth what a shame it is, that blasphemies should be punished by Turkes and Saracens, and should remaine vnpunished among Christians. And a little after, In times past (saith he) they were set in the stockes, or on the pillorie, or cast in prison, or had some great fine set vpon their heads: and in the raigne of holy King Lewis their tongues were pierced through according to the Law which he had made in that behalfe. But the contrary is practised at this day: for they that should punish blasphemies, are of all others the greatest blasphemers, glorying therein, and saying that it is not for a paisant to renounce God, Quòd non pertinet ad rurales rennuciare Deum. Et ego dico tibi quòd ad te non pertinet intrare Paradisum: and I tell thee, thou shalt neuer come into heauen for this geare. In another place he maketh mention of a notorious swearer, whose tongue King Lewis caused to be cut out, fol. 183. col. 1. Sic S. Ludouicus de vno blasphematore Parisius, qui fecit ei abscindere linguam. But Barelete is more hote and vehement against his countrey∣men the Italians, then they against their country men the French, when he saith fol. 120. col. 2. O Italy infected with such a vice, O people polluted with such wic∣kednesse: I feare me Gods vengeance will vtterly ouerwhelme you in a moment. Neither is he to learne how to apply King Lewis his decree against blasphemers, alledged by the two former preachers. He saith moreouer, that the Saracens had a law, that whosoeuer blasphemed Christ or the blessed virgine (his mother) should be famished to death betweene two boords. He telleth vs also of another aun∣cient law, which punished blasphemy and buggery with the same punishment. And is it not a lamentable thing (saith he) that Duke Galeace should hang a man onely for murmuring against him? and that the Duke of Mantua should put ano∣ther to death for the like offence: and that blasphemers should go scotfree and vn∣punished? He further shewes that it is lesse excusable then any other vice, in that whereas men are drawne to commit sinne through delight and pleasure which they take therein, (as the whoremonger by the pleasure he taketh in whoredome and daliance; the glutton by the delight he hath in his full furnisht table, in dainty morcels, and the laughter of his wine, &c.) the blasphemer can haue no delight in swearing at all: adding moreouer that it hath this proper and peculiar vnto it, in that whereas all other sinnes cease after death, this onely continues. For proofe whereof he alledgeth Apoc. 16. And men blasphemed God which hath power ouer these plagues. And a little after, And blasphemed the God of heauen for their paines and for their sores. And to the same effect also in the end of the Chapter. Lastly he laboureth with tooth and naile (at leastwise in shew) to withdraw them from this sinne, as by propounding sundry examples of Gods fearefull iudgements which haue befallen swearers and blasphemers; as that when certaine gamesters at Mantua brake forth into blasphemy against our blessed Sauiour, their eyes fell on the table. That at Rome a child (but fiue yeares old) blaspheming the name of God, was caried away by the diuell from betweene his parents armes. That a mar∣riner at Ragouse, most fearfully tearing and rending God asunder with his bloudie othes, fell into the sea, and was not seene till certaine dayes after that he was found on the shore, where his bodie was taken vp entire and whole, the tongue onely excepted. He further speakes of certaine oathes proper to Italians, as when they call God traitor, and the virgine Marie whore, fol. 118. col. 1. Clamant Deum tradi∣torem,

virginem, putanam. Which I remember onely for their sakes who haue not bene in Italy. For they who haue continued there any time, and haue trauelled through the countrey (as my selfe haue done) may by these two remember o∣thers farre more horrible; except God haue bene more mercifull vnto them here∣in, then vnto me, in giuing them grace to forget them. And I perswade my selfe, that since Barelets time blasphemies haue much more increased both in number and nature, I meane as well in quantitie as qualitie. For I remember that in the last yeare of my abode in Italy, I heard certaine oathes which I had not heard be∣before, as at Bononia which I had not heard at Venice, Padua nor Vincentia; and at Florence, which I had not heard at Bononia nor at Luke: and so of other places, as at Rome, Naples, &c. But the most horrible terrible oath that euer I heard bel∣ched out in all my life, or euer heard of, was vttered by a Priest at Rome, who had bene angred by a courtizan, which I will conceale for this present, and returne to Barelete, who mentioneth a merry oath which a good fellow (an Italian) was wont to vse, viz. A bots on the asse that caried Christ to Ierusalem: a merry one I say, if any oath may be called merry. Howbeit it is rather to be termed a ieast, then an oath. And yet if it be spoken with an intent to sweare, it is worke enough for Di∣uines: as when Italians say in their fustian fumes Per la Potta of such or such a one; whereas they are otherwise wont to say, Per la Potta de la virgine Maria; or by way of exclamation, Potta de la virgine Maria; or leauing out Maria, as being easily vn∣derstood; and when French-men say in heate and hast vertubieu: as also when Germaines in their curses and imprecations corruptly pronounce the word Gott, for which we call them dastipoteurs, because we do not vnderstand them. But to close vp this point, were it not for my former promise, I would here relate what I haue read in the Sermons of Barelete, of a Bishop, who had taken vp such a bad custome of swearing, that when Barelete came to admonish him thereof, saying, Reuerend father, I haue often heard that you cannot speake a word without an oath, or naming the Diuell: he presently (to cleare himselfe of that imputation, and to shew that it was but a false slander and malicious defamation) said, And who reported that of me in the diuels name? By G. body it is false. Then said he, Reuerend father, I take your selfe for witnesse. But if any desire to heare his pure Ciceronian Latin, thus it is word for word: Exemplum Praelati, quem noui Ianuae, qui loqui nescie∣bat, nisi per corpus & nomen Diaboli. Quum nemo auderet mouere, ego Gabriel officium suscepi, dicens, Pater reuerende, plures de vestris nobis dicunt, quòd nescitis loqui sine iu∣ramento, & nomine Diaboli. At Episcopus in impatientiam versus, ait, In nomine Dia∣boli, & quis de me ita dicit? Per corpus Christi non est verum. Cui respondi, Reuerende Domine, à vobis testimonium capio: sic{que} cum rubore discessit. Which hote bickering betweene Barelete and the Bishop I had no sooner related to a vertuous gentle∣man of good credite and account, but he paralleled it with another very like it, which he gaue me in exchange, albeit his was new, and mine somewhat state. How that he hauing told a gentleman (his very good friend) that the wound he had re∣ceiued, ought to be a warning vnto him to beware of swearing, (a sinne to which he was much addicted) he should answer and say, By G. body I will neuer sweare more.

Moreouer, they complaine much of murthers and man-slaughters. And their manner is in speaking of the sinnes of their time, to range whoredome, theft and murther in the first ranke: and they seeme to be grieued to the very soule that they are not punished. Menot saith, if a man go to the magistrate, and informe him of a murther committed the last night in such a place, he will not stirre a foote, nor

moue a finger, except he first know the accuser, and who will discharge the Court by paying the fees: of which neglect of iustice, he speaketh in sundry other places. Hee complaineth also that men are no more moued then stockes or stone walles, when they see a man of worth slaine in the open streetes. And Barelete saith, Occi∣ditur homo, & adhuc malefactor stat in terminis patriae sine pauore, quia non est iustitia.

But there are other murthers, for which they weepe water and snot: as those which women commit in causing an abortion: and (which is worse) for that Priests (as Maillard saith) perswade them that in so doing they commit no mor∣tall sinne. Fol. 74. col. 2. Súntne ibi mulieres, & sacerdotes qui dicunt quòd mulieres comedentes venenum ad expellendum materiam de matrice suâ, ne foetus veniat ad por∣tam, antequam anima rationalis introducatur, non peccant mortaliter? Where he also telleth vs of children cast into riuers, and priuies. Vtinam haberemus aures apertas, & andiremus voces puerorum in latrinis proiectorum & in stuminibus. Barelete also crieth out against this sinne, fol. 262. col. 2. O quot luxuriae, O quot Sodomiae, O quot fornicationes, clamant latrinae, latibula vbi sunt pueri suffocati. Pontanus also alledgeth an example of this currish crueltie, affirming it to be more vsuall with Nuns then with others.

These I hope may suffice to shew the estate of the Age last past. For (if accor∣ding to the old saying, A word be enough to the wise) by these the learned Reader may conceiue of the rest. For albeit we haue spoken nothing of the gluttonie and drunkennesse of those times, yet we may not thinke that whoredome was with∣out these two companions, especially considering what the old prouerbe saith, Sine Cerere & Baccho friget Venus. And the Greeke verse saith prouerbially, that when the belly is full, the mind is among the maides. Which agrees well with the French prouerbe, Apres la panse, vient la danse: After banquetting followes chambe∣ring. Ouid also saith, Non habet vnde suum paupertas pascat amorem. And we may assure our selues, that there was no manner of costly or sumptuous attire, no fond, fantasticall, gaudie, or garish fashion, which the wit of man or the wickednesse of the time could inuent, but was then in vse. For Oliuer Maillard is at hot as a tost with Atturneys wiues, who (notwithstanding their husbands poore estate, hauing not after they haue payd for their offices so much as twentie shillings a yeare left them) are as stately as Princesses. Menot also is round with them, telling them that there need no other flags to display their folly, but their fans and verdingales: but especially for that they did not hide that which modestie wold haue couered. Fol. 61. col. 2. Vos iuuenes mulieres que aperitis pectora vestra ad ostendendum mamil∣las. Menot also taketh on like an oister-wife, for that they wore their gownes so open before, that a man might haue almost seene their bellies. And he repro∣ueth them sharply for sundry like vnseemly and vnciuill behauiours: especially for this: If my mistris (saith he) be at Church, and there come in some gentleman-like man; to keepe the custome of gentilitie, she must rise vp amongst them all, and giue him a licke on the lips, though it be in the Sermon or prayer time, when eue∣rie man is deepe in his deuotion. The diuell (saith he) take such fashions. Ad om∣nes diabolos talis modus faciendi. But it is now high time we should heare how these preachers say Church-men their lessons, or rather how they reproue them and giue them the gentle correction: if the reproofe of the meane may take place with the mightie: and if their loud cries and shrill voices lifted vp like so many trumpets, may pierce the eares of these deafe adders, better stopped then euer were Vlysseses, least hee should heare the melodious harmonie, or harmo∣nious

melodie of the Syrens song, to vse the phrase of our descanting and Pindarizing Poets.

CHAP. VII. Of certaine vices reproued in our good Catholickes by the aforesaid Preachers.

THat I may performe my late promise, I must bestow this Chapter vpon my Masters of the Popish Cleargie: beginning according to my former method, with their whoredome; yet not forgetting their secret thefts and cunning conueyance, whereby they were wont to maintaine themselues in their dissolute demeanour and loose life, as they do at this day. First then let vs heare Oliuer Maillard (doing him this honour, as alwayes heretofore, to giue him first audience.) Fol. 327. col. 1.

Haue you any of those great men here, whose wiues make them weare hornes? Yes, there is store of such: so that we may well say, the Cuckoes song is now come into the Popes Court. But before we come to Prelates, let vs heare how he layeth out the knauery of poore Priests and simple Sir Iohns. They heare (saith he) wo∣mens confessions, and knowing who they be that vse the occupation, they runne after them.

Which puts me in mind of that which I haue read of certaine Priests who would gladly haue brought vp this custome, that the poore penitents which came vnto them for absolution, should shew them those parts of their bodies wherewith they had offended. I returne to Maillard, who hath these words vsu∣ally in his mouth: Sacerdotes concubinarij, or fornicarij; as also, religiosi concubinarij. He further speakes against such as keepe them in their chambers * 1.2 à pain & à pot: as fol. 61. col. 3. Súntne hîc sacerdotes tenentes concubinas à pain & à pot. In stead wherof Menot saith * 1.3 à pot & à cueillier. To reture to Prelates, against whom Maillard in∣ueyeth, fol. 22. col. 4.

O ye infamous damned fat gotbellies, written in the diuels booke, theeues, and Church-robbers, (as Saint Bernard saith) do ye thinke that your founders gaue you your liuings to do nothing but to hunt whores, and to shoote at short buts? And fol. 107. col. 1. And ye my Masters of the Clergie, that spend your benefices vpon horses, hounds and whores.

He addeth also Histriones. Likewise pag. 84. col. 2. Aske S. Stephen if he went to heauen by leading such a life as you do, making great cheare, euer feasting and banquetting, giuing the goods of the Church and Crucifixe to harlots; keeping hounds and hawkes with the goods of the poore? It had bene better you had neuer bene borne, then that you should leade this loose, lazie, and licentious life. Where he likewise addeth Histrio∣nes after meretices. All men know the signification of this Latin word; but because both he and his fellowes deale with the Latin as they thinke good, vsing words arsie-versie and kim-kam, I doubt whether by Histriones he meant not moriones, which will appeare to be more probable, if we consider the practise vsuall at this day. In another place he saith that Prelates haue no table talke but of obscenitie and ribaldrie. And he is the man (if my memory faile me not) who saith, that whereas Prelates in times past gaue mony towards the mariage of yong maides (which were monilesse and friendlesse) they contrarily suffer them to play the strumpets vnder their noses, making them get their dowries by the sweate of their bodies. But let vs heare what goodman Menot saith (who currieth the cockscombs

of those gallants as well as the best of them.) Fol. 144. col. 2. I say the like de an∣cillis sacerdotum, quibus non licet dare hoc sacramentum Eucharistiae; quòd certè non sunt de grege Dei, sed Diaboli. And fol. 82. col. 3. Est filia seducta, quae fuit per annum inclusa cum sacerdote cum poto & cochleari, at bed and boord, hodie ve∣nit, &c. And in another place he saith, that when souldiers entred any towne, the first thing they sought for was the Curates (or Parsons) Lemman. And they might haue done well (as farre as we may gather by his words) to haue giuen war∣ning from one end of the towne to the other: Looke to your plackard Madame (or Mistris) for feare of these Prelates. For ouer and besides those which they kept at home, they had customers in euery corner of the towne. Albeit they tooke grea∣test sport in making Counsellers weare the hornes. But here was the iest, that great rich men had euer one Prelate or other for their gossips: the goodman taking him for his sons godfather, who (vnknowne to him) was his father. Where note how in his copper Latin he calleth the committing of whoredom with a Bishop, facere placitum Domini Episcopi: to do my Lord Bishop a pleasure: as fol. 18. O Domina quae facitis placitum Domini Episcopi. And fol. 110. col. 2. If you shall aske how this child being but ten yeares old, got such a liuing: they will answer you straight, that his mother was very familiar with the Bishop, and for kind acquaintance dedit ei. He further mentioneth a cunning sleight practised by these sir Iohns, to haue their pleasure of those with whom they were in loue, that their manner was (if no other occasion were offered) to inuite them to a feast among other modest maids and matrons. Last of all he sheweth that Prelates in his time had both maids and ma∣trons, both wiues and widowes, at commaund. We haue already heard how Mail∣lard (after Saint Bernard) calleth them theeues, and Church-robbers. Let vs now heare what Menot saith of their thefts and simonies (though men now a dayes make but a ieast of such sinnes.) First then, fol. 70. col. 1. he saith, O Domini Eccle∣siastici, qui roditis ossa mortuorum, & bibitis sanguinem Crucisixi, audite. And fol. 5. col. 3. Non est cauda Praelatorum, qui hodie post se ducunt canes, & mangones indutos ad modum armigerorum, sicut Suytenses: qui nullo modo curant de grege sibi credito. And straight after, Quid dicetis, Domini Ecclesiastici & Praelati, qui comeditis bona buius pauperis qui pendit in cruce, ducendo vestras vanitates? And fol. 132. col. 1. O si non vi∣derentur magniluxus, great brauery, simoniae, magna vsura patentes, notoriae luxuriae, quae sunt in Ecclesia, populus non esset scandaliza••us, nec vos imitaretur. O qualis rumor! dico secundum puram veritatem: O what a notorious shame it is! I say the plaine truth of it: Mille Praelati sunt causa quòd pauper & simplex populus peccat, & quarit in∣fernum: that the poore people sinne, and are damned ad omnes diabolos. And fol. 118. col. 1. he sends the dealing of all those Prelates packing to the diuel, in the sence that men are wont to praise them for good husbandry. Nunc (saith he) si aliquem eorum vis laudare, hoc modo laudes, Est bonus pater-familiae, he is a good husband: benè aliter facit quàm suus praedecessor. Ad omnes Diabolos tale menagium. Menagium pro animabus est magis necessarium, & principale. And speaking of their election, fol. 93. col. 1. Videmus quòd hodie intrant Ecclesiam vt boues stabulum, cornibus eleua∣tis: vt multi qui intrant non per Spiritum sanctum, sed vi armorum, & strepitu armige∣rorum & militum: by force of armes and dint of sword. Likewise fol. 110. col. 1. Sed vnde prouenit hoc? quia certè Spiritus sanctus est hodie expulsus de concilio, synagoga, & capitulis Episcoporum, & electionibus Praelatorum. Quia, vt videtur, hodie puero de∣cem annorum datur parochia in qua sunt quingenti ignes: & pro custodia assignatur quandoque a Courtier, vnus nobilis curiae, qui post Deum nil odit nisi Ecclesiam. Heu, Deus scit quomodo hodie dantur beneficia Ecclesiastica. Si quaritis quomodo puer iste

habuit beneficium: sciunt responsionem, Mater suae erat familiaris cum Episcopo, his mo∣ther was very familiar with the Bishop, and for acquaintance sake dedit ei. Nam hodie verificatur & completur Prophetia Esayae 3. Populum meum exactores sui spolia∣uerunt, & mulieres dominatae sunt eorum. Videmus hodie super mulas, habentes duas Abbatias, duos Episcopatus (Anglicè two crosses, two myters) & adhuc non sunt con∣tenti. As also in another place, And you gentlewomen (saith he) that do my Lord Bishop the pleasure you wot of, and then you say, Oh, oh, he will do my sonne a good turne, he shall be the better prouided for by some benefice or Ecclesiasticall dignitie. Also fol. 111. col. 2. Quòd hodie non dantur beneficia, non, non, sed vendun∣tur. Non est meum dare vobis. Antiquitùs dicebantur Praebendae, à Praebeo, praebes: sed hodie dici debent Emenda, ab Emo, emis; quòd non est meum dare vobis. Which con∣ceited allusion puts me in mind of that which he hath, fol. 100. col. 4. Secundò erit Prior, Abbas, Comendatarius, & potius comedatarius qui omnia comedit. Moreouer, he oftē reproues and censures them for simony (to which we may referre certain par∣ticulars spoken of before) as fol. 94. col. 1. Nónne reputatis simoniam quando pro Epis∣copatu valente nouem millia, facitis fasciculum plurium beneficiorum ascendentium vsque ad summā nouem millium, & datis hoc pro recompensa? Ad omnes diabolos tales recompensa. Likewise fol. 8. col. 3. Sic isti Protonotarij qui habent illas dispensas ad tria, imò ad quindecim beneficia, & sunt simoniaci & sacrilegi: & non cessant arripere bene∣ficia, incompatibilia: idem est eis. Si vacet Episcopatus, pro eo habendo dabitur vnus gros∣sus fasciculus aliorū beneficiorū. Primò accumulabuntur archidiaconatus, abbatiae, duo prioratus, quatuor aut quinque praebendae, & dabuntur haec omnia pro recompensatione. And fol. 100. col. 2. Dic de abusibus qui fiunt quando isti qui habent beneficia, dant illa fratri vxoris, vt illa portionem haereditatum fratris habeat. I may not here forget what he saith (fol. 124. col. 3.) concerning Monkes, viz. how they are euer follow∣ing one suite or other in the pallace at Paris: so that of foure you meet with, it is a wonder if one be not a Monke. And if you aske them, what businesse they haue there? One Clericus will answer, Our Chapter is in suite with the Deane, the Bi∣shop, &c. and I dance attendance vpon these Counsellers for this end. And thou maister Monke, what doest thou here? I pleade for an Abbey of eight hundred pound rent for my Lord Abbot. And thou white Monke? I pleade for a small Priory for my selfe. And you beggerly Monkes, that haue neither land nor liuing, what do you sneaking here? The King hath granted vs salt, wood, and the like, but his officers denie to giue them: or such a couetous or enuious Curate denies vs buriall, and will not suffer vs to performe the will of one lately deceased: so that we are inforced to repaire to the Court to seeke a redresse.

Barelete indeed doth not so often inueigh against these two vices of Cleargie-men, as his fellowes. But elsewhere he telleth vs a very merry tale of a Venetian do∣ctor, who being taken with a filthy drab at vnawares in the very fact, and that by her mistris, and Barelete (then preacher in Venice) whom she had sent for to see this sport, and being admonished of this so hainous and scandalous a sin, made no other answer, but that he was so deepe in loue with this dirtie droile, that he knew not what to thinke or say of himselfe, whether he were a man or a beast. He further cries out against Nunnes for pestering the world with a broode of bastard brats, whereof his fellowes speake nothing to my remembrance. Howbeit Pontanus tels vs in plaine termes of certaine Monasteries of Nunnes at Valentia in Spaine, which differ nothing from stewes. And least any should suspect me of falsification or for∣gery, I will alledge his owne words, as they are to be found in his treatise De Im∣manitate, cap. 17. Valentia in Hispania citeriore, aedes quadam sacra, Vestalium{que} Mo∣nasteria,

ita quidem patent amatoribus, vt instar lupanariorum sint. Moreouer, dis∣coursing in generall of Nunnes, he saith, that they either kill their children in the wombe by certaine potions, or else strangle them as soone as they are borne, and after cast them into priuies.

CHAP. VIII. How the foresaid Preachers haue discouered certaine abuses in Popish doctrine; and of the couetousnesse of the Popish Cleargie.

BVt (to omit the loose liues of our good Catholickes) the foresaid Preachers discouer certaine errors in doctrine (though themselues were greatly ouerseene in sundry things, so that we may well iudge of them according to the prouerb, He that hath but one eye is king among the blind:) where note, that they are such errors & abuses, as helpe to keepe their kitchins hot. First then Maillard is full of inuectiues against pedlers of relickes, as fol. 25. col. 3. Estis hic Domini bullatores & portatores reliquia∣rum? And fol. 25. col. 3. Dixi hodie mane de lingua fraudulatoria, & credo quòd iugling Gipsies Anglice, portatores reliquiarum, caphardi, & mensuratores vultuum imaginum saepe comedunt de isto pastillo. Also fol. 3••. col. 3. Estis hic portatores bullarum? numquid linitis auditores vestros ad capiendas bursas eorum? Likewise fol. 45. col. 1. Et vos por∣tatores reliquiarum & indulgentiarum, numquid iactatis vos de malis quae facitis in villagijs? But before I proceed to a further point, I will giue a short exposition of this word pastillo, that is pastie; and that out of the author himselfe. We are there∣fore to know, that it hath relation to a tale that he told fol. 24. col. 4. It is reported (saith he) that the diuell being very sicke vpon a time, his Phisitians asked him to what his stomack would best serue him, to fresh water fish, or to sea-fish? He an∣swered to neither. Whereupon they asked him if he had a mind to porke, biefe, or veale? He answered, No. Well then (said the Phisitians) haue you a stomacke to chickens, partridges, or venison? He answered, that his stomack could not away with them no more then with the rest: but that he would gladly eate of that meate which women eate of when they lie in childbed, to wit, of a pastie of tongues. Wherupon they asked him with what sauce he would eate it. I would haue them (said he) first fried, and then baked. I leaue the deduction and application hereof to those that haue the book, seeing I haue quoted the place where it is to be found. But those that haue heard the chat & pratling of these gossiping houswiues when they sit by a warme fire, may easily guesse how their tongues wag when they are bathing themselues in a warme bath of a woman in childbed: which is a circum∣stance worthy the noting. For verily it is not probable, that their tongues should then be frozen, at leastwise I dare giue my word for the good wiues of Paris, who call their seates cacquetoires, that is, tatling benches; where sitting together after they haue finely fetcht ouer their husbands, brethren, sisters, kinsmen and friends (yea and their louers also who are now called seruants) at last fall foule among them∣selues, giuing each other such priuie nips and crosse blowes ouer the thombes, that their husbands are hornified thereby. But now to the matter againe (lest it be said that women make me forget my selfe) yet so as I will not giue them a finall farewell: for the fact whereof I am about to speake (reproued by Maillard) con∣cernes them very nearely, viz. that notwithstanding the glosse affirme, that if a

priest be found kissing a woman, we must suppose he did it to print a blessing vpon her lips: yet we may in charitie iudge that it is a preparatiue to initiate them in some other mystery, especially if they be alone, and in a suspected place. He spea∣keth also very boldly (for those times) against Indulgences and pardons: yet so as a man may well perceiue he speaketh not all he thinketh. In the meane time he flatly condemneth these pedlers of pardons (whom he calleth in another place bullatores) for saying, that if they were perswaded that their auncestors had not bought Popes pardons (meaning such pedlary ware as they had in their packes) they would neuer pray for them. Among other things he saith, An creditis quòd vnus magnus vsurarius, plenus vitijs, qui habebit mille millia peccata, dando sex albos trunco, habeat remissionem omnium peccatorum suorum? Certè durum est mihi credere, & durius praedicare. He further reproueth such as preached onely for gaine. Are you here my maisters (saith he) you Lent preachers, who preach onely in hope of gaine: and when you haue gotten a round summe, say on Easter day, that you haue had a good Lent? Where he compares them to adulterers for this reason: Adulteri enim de malo concubitu recipiunt prolem: ita & vos pecuniam. And Fol. 331. col. 1. Videte magistri venerandi, habuistis bonum quadragesimale, lucrati estis centum fran∣cos, congregastis multum; vos reddetis computum. He complaineth also that the Church-men sell the diuell and all, in refusing to bury one in the Church vnder a franc. I returne to Menot, who calleth those pedlers of relickes portatores rogatio∣num, whom Maillard calleth portatores reliquiarum, & indulgentiarum, & bullato∣res. It is (saith Menot fol. 131.) the practise of these pedlers to make poore widowes beleeue, that they and their family ought rather to starue for hunger, then to want their pardons. In like manner Fol. 174. col. 3. Shall I speake a word for all? Diuines neuer medled with these pardons, or very little. And presently after, None preach them but these false Friers, who adde infinite thereto, to deceiue the people: and being in tauernes, keepe reuell rout, as though they were yong diuels, talking of nothing but of dallying and whoredome. Further, the said preacher (fol. 12. col. 4.) makes mention of certaine cheaters, who hauing pawned their reliks in a tauerne, shewed the people a brand, and made them worship it, as being one of those wherewith Saint Laurence was broyled. But of this more hereafter. Barelete also (as I remember) reproueth certaine abuses, though very briefly, rather pointing at them, then dwelling long vpon any point. Neither are we to wonder that he and his fellowes should let so many abuses go scotfree, vntouched, and vncensu∣red. It is a wonder rather they could discouer any, considering the course they tooke. Howbeit we are to obserue this one thing, that whatsoeuer the ignorance of former times hath bene, the doctrine, which tended directly to keepe the kit∣ching hot, hath euer bene suspected. Whence it is that some (euen of our good Catholickes) could neuer be brought to put any confidence in such pardons: for that they considered (albeit they should haue ascended higher, and sought pe∣remptory proofes) that if they tooke place, men should buy out the pardon of their sinnes at too easie a rate. Thus we see what the doctrine is, which tends di∣rectly to keepe their kitchins hot. And in very truth there is no one conclusion in the Romish religion which pointeth not this way, though some more directly, others more obscurely. How euer it be, our old prouerbes do sufficiently blazon the couetousnesse of our good Catholickes. But this ensuing best of all:

Trois choses sont tout d'vn accord, L'Eglise, la Cour, & la mort. L'Eglise prend du vif, du mort:

La Cour prend le droict & le tort: La mort prend le foible & le sort.

That is,

There be things three do well agree, The Church, the Court, and destinie. For none will ought to other leaue: The Church from liue and dead doth reaue: The Court takes both the right and wrong: And death takes both the weake and strong.

There is also another prouerbe which saith, that three things are vnsatiable, Priests, Monks, and the sea: whereof Barelete puts me in mind when he saith, Presbyteri, & fratres, & mare nunquam satiantur. Howbeit I haue heard old folkes name these threee, Priests, women, and the sea. And verily Monkes may well be comprised vn∣der Priests.

CHAP. IX. Wherein is declared, that by how much the wickednesse of the last Age doth ex∣ceed the former, by so much ours doth surpasse the last: notwithstanding that vices are better detected, more sharply censured, and seuerely punished then euer they were.

WE may perceiue by the complaints taken vp by the foresaid Prea∣chers, that they saw the world in the wane, waxing dayly worse and worse. For it is not to be thought but that they omitted sundry grosse and hainous sinnes which raigned in those dayes, either because they knew them not, or remembred them not. For we may well thinke, that men in those dayes were not onely good guardians, in keeping the vices whereof their auncestors left them inheritors, but improuers also in increasing their stocke by adding of new. And verily I must confesse that I haue not reaped so great a haruest, nor gathered so plentifull a vintage out of their workes and writings, but that many gleanings and after-gatherings remaine be∣hind for such as haue moe idle houres then my selfe. For who so shall diligently peruse the Sermons of these three Doctors, shall find that I haue omitted a num∣ber of notorious and prodigious facts, which haue bene discouered in part by an∣cient Poets. For proofe hereof, consider what Menot saith:

The sonne would plucke out his fathers eyes to enioy his goods. And I perswade my selfe that the booke in which children studie least, and which grieueth them most, is the life of their fathers (where he alludes to a booke called Vitae Patrum, written of certaine Ancients who were thought to haue led a strict and holy life.)

And a little before, Alas, how is it possible to find friendship among enemies, when loue is not to be found among kinsmen? no not betweene parents and children, brethren and si∣sters? Now that this sinne is of great standing, may appeare by Hesiod, whom Ouid hath thus expressed:

Viuitur ex rapto, non hospes ab hospite tutus, Non socer à genero, fratrum quoque gratia rara est. Imminet exitio vir coniugis, illa mariti. Lurida terribiles miscent aconita nouerca.

Which Marrot hath thus turned:

On vit desia de ce q••'on emble & oste. Chez l'hostelier n'est point asseuré l'hoste: Ne le beaupere auecques le sien gendre. Petite amour entre freres s'engendre. Le mari s'offre à la mort de sa femme. Femme au mary f••••t semblable diffame. Per mal-talent les marastres terribles Meslent souuent venins froids & horribles.

That is,

All liue on spoile. One where the warie guest Suspects his falser host. Elsewhere the sonne His second father feares. Nor can one brest, One wombe, shield brothers from dissention. The faithlesse wife conspires her husbands bane, And he in fell reuenge seekes hers againe. The cruell step-dame deadly poyson brues. &c.

He afterwards speakes of children, who abhorre to studie or reade in the booke called Vitae Patrum.

Filius ante diem patrios inquirit in annos.

That is,

The sonne for raising of his owne estate, Wisheth his father dead ere natures date.

True it is indeede, these words For raising of his owne estate, are not in the Latine: howbeit they are added very fitly to make vp the sence, as any man may perceiue: and they accord with that of Menot, that children would plucke out their fathers eyes to enioy their goods. And as they complained in old time of other vices, so of the neglect and want of iustice. For this is an ancient prouerbe (if we regard the sence rather then the words) Greater theeues hang the lesse: agreeable to that of Iuuenal:

Dat veniam Coruis, vexat censura columbas.

That is,

Poore Doues are payd, whilst Rauens s••••pen free.

And it suteth well with the saying of that famous Law-giuer Zaleucus, that lawes are like to cobwebs: for as small flies 〈◊〉〈◊〉 caught in them, when as the greater breake through them: so poore people, or such as cannot prattle apace, are insnared in them; wheras the rich, or such as haue glib tongues, breake through them by force: not vnlike to that in Terence:

—quia non rete Accipitri tenditur neque Miluio, Qui malè faciunt nobis, illis qui nihil faciunt, tenditur. Quia enim illis fructus est, in illis opera luditur.

Which is spoken by a smell-feast (or good trencher-man) called by this Poet a Parasite, who hauing boasted that he did strike and beate whom he listed, and plaid the pike in a pond, and that none durst once quinch or speake a word against him; being demanded the reason of this so great boldnesse, answered, Because the net is not spread for the * 1.4 Sacre or Kite which annoy vs, but for those harmlesse birds that do not hurt vs: for there is some profite in these, as for the rest it is but labour lost. The Poet indeed (which I speake only by the way) vseth a * 1.5 word, which (as some are of opinion) signifieth all kind of haukes, whether sparrow••

haukes, faulkons, or others. But I rather vse the word sacre, considering the com∣mon phrase in euery mans mouth vsed in way of a prouerbe, C'est vn sacre, as if a man should say, he is a spend thrift, or a deuouring gulfe. It is also taken for a glut∣ton, or a wine-bibber. And good father Menot fol. 138. col. 1. forgets not those that exclaime against the poore, & haue nothing to say against the rich. For examining the history of the woman who was taken in adultery, and brought before our Sauiour Christ, he demandeth the reason why 〈◊〉〈◊〉 brought not the adulterer also? To which he presently answereth, It may be (saith he) he was a rich mā. This is the common practise at this day: they accuse poore men, but haue not a word to say against a gros goddon. Which word I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of purpose, as being an excellent good French word (though now almost worne out of vse) vsed also by Oliuer Maillard his ancient: fol. 22. col. 4. O gros goddons, damnati, infames, & scripti in libro Diaboli, fures & sacrilegi. But to returne to our former argument touching great and small flies. Some there be who make the Philosopher Anacharsis author of this com∣parison, affirming that his meaning was, thereby to let Solon (a law-giuer as well as Zaleucus) vnderstand, that the paines he tooke in making lawes, was but in vain. Now whereas they who father it vpon Zaleucus, report he should say, that as the flie and the gnat falling into a cobweb are there intangled, whereas the Bee and the waspe breake through and flie away: so the poore, &c. They who father it vpon the Philosopher Anacharsis, in stead of great and small flies (signifying the poore and the rich) vse a comparison betweene light and waightie bodies, which (in my conceit) hath not so good a grace. But the Flie is vsed fitly in another comparison, which will not be amisse here to relate. It is that by which Metrodorus counselled those that would liue in any state or common wealth, or vnder any go∣uernment, that they should be carefull to auoid two extreames, viz. the bottome of basenesse and the height of honour: that they be neither like gnats nor Lions; seeing gnats are quashed at the very first, and men euer watch to take the Lion at aduantage.

Further, we heare how these Preachers exclaime against the pompe and bra∣uery of women; and how Maillard for his part calleth them femmes à la grand' gor∣re, and femmes gorrieres, that is, women gorgeously apparelled, finicall and fine as fippence: and how he findeth fault with their long traines, their furres of sable, their gold wherewith they all to bespangle their heads, and which they weare a∣bout their necks, and on their girdles: and how Menot saith, The poore starue for cold in the streete, whilest thou stately Ladie; and thou delicate Dame hast seuen or eight gownes in thy trunke, which thou wearest not thrise in a yeare: and doest thou not thinke thou shalt be called to account for this vaine superfluitie before Gods iudgement seate? I know not what excuse a Ladie can make, who seeing a poore man naked and crying for cold, trayleth two or three elles of veluet after her. But how women in all ages haue desired to excell in brauery, (I should say in pompe and pride) Poets do sufficiently declare, who like heraulds haue proclai∣med the folly of their sumptuous superfluities in this kind, whose testimonies (if haply they shal not satisfie any) they may haue recourse to sundry others, recorded by historians, as namely by Liuie, who reports that certaine Romaine Ladies and Gentlewomen (nobly descended, and otherwise accounted graue and chast ma∣trons) did murmure and mutine against such as would not suffer them to returne to their braueries againe, and that in such turbulent and furious manner, as though they had bin besides themselues. And wherfore (I beseech you) were laws enacted of old, to cut off the excesse and riot of women, but because there was need of

such bridles to restraine them, and curbes to keepe them in? Menot also vseth a word, which puts me in mind of a place in Terence, where he shewes what paines women tooke in tricking and trimming of themselues. For whereas he saith hy∣perbolically, that a man might sooner make a stable cleane where fortie horses had stood, then a woman will haue pinned all her pins, and setled her attire; Terence said long ago, Dum comuntur annus est. The same Preacher doth often fume and fret against those huswiues who attired themselues so modestly, that a man might see euen to their nauels. His words are these, fol. 25. col. 1. Habebit magnas manicas, caput dissolutum, & pectus discoopertum vsque ad ventrem, cum pectorali albo, per quod quis clarè potest videre. Which put me in mind of that which Horace saith:

Altera nil obstat Cois tibi: pene videre est Vt nudam.

But some may haply say, As for this light, loose, and lasciuious kind of apparell, I hold it to be a wicked thing indeed: but why should brauery and sumptuous attire vndergo so sharpe a censure? To which I answer, that in some persons it cannot be reproued: notwithstanding such costly array hath euer bene condemned, because that for one that maintaines it at her owne cost, there are an hundred which main∣taine it at their cost that cannot do withall (as Barelete and Menot testifie) though the mony come out of their husbands purses, or accrew to them by cutting asun∣der the true loues knot. For proofe whereof, consider the place formerly quoted out of Barelete, O ye such and such mens wiues, I tell you, if your garments were put in a presse, the bloud of the poore would drop from them. And Menot also, who iumpeth with him, not onely in iudgement, but almost in words: Ye my Lords & Ladies, who are so addicted to your pleasures, and weare scarlet gownes, I verily think that if they were wel pressed, a man might see the bloud of the poore (wherein they were died) runne out of them. Which prouerbiall phrases, though they may not be taken strictly according to the letter, but hyperbolically, the bet∣ter to set out such impietie (as it were) in orient colours: yet Barelete not content to houer thus in generalities, bringeth for instance that which befell an vsurer, no lesse strange then the former: for he saith that bloud came out of the bread which he ate. As for those huswiues that maintaine their pompe and state by false play at the tables, in bearing a man too many, contrary to duty and promise, Maillard and Menot say them their lessons. But I will content my selfe with the testimonie of Maillard, who hauing said, Tell me whether it be a goodly sight to see an At∣turneys wife, who hath not twentie shillings a yeare left him after he hath payed for his ffice, to go like a Princesse? to haue her head bespangled with gold, a gold chaine about her necke, and a golden girdle? You say your places wil maintaine it. The diuell take your places and you also ••••••ddeth afterward, It may be you will say, Our husbands giue vs no such gownes, but we get them with the paine of our bo∣dies. All the diuels in hell go with such paines. For these are his words: Dicetis fortè, Maritus noster non dat nobis tales vestes, sed nos lucramur ad poenam nostri corporis. Ad trigenta mille Diabolos talis poena. Now it is easie to vnderstand without further explication what this paine is: neuerthelesse if it seeme so obscure to any, that it need a glosse, a man may fetch it out of Maillard, where he exclaimeth against such as are their daughters bawds, and who make them get their dowrie with the paine and sweate of their bodies. Faciunt ei lucrari matrimonium suum ad poenam & sudo∣rem sui corporis, fol. 35. col. 4.

But to apply these testimonies to the particulars which I haue here vndertaken to intreate of. If in Hesiods time there was small fidelitie to be found among men,

no not among brethren, nor yet in children towards their parents: doubtlesse there was lesse in Ouids time, and much lesse in the ages following; and least of all in this wherein we liue. And if charitie did waxe cold in former times, it is now altogether frozen: if iustice did then halt of one foote, she now halteth downe∣right of both. If she had then but one eye, she is now starke blind. If she was deafe but of one eare, she is now as deafe as a doore naile (I speake according to the old prouerbe, There is none so deafe as he that wil not heare: to which we may adde this, There is none so blind as he that wil not see.) And whereas she then tooke onely with her hands, she now taketh both with hands and feete: and whereas brauery and effeminatenesse in attire, lasciuiousnesse in speech and behauiour, and all such vi∣ces as are fore-runners of greater mischiefes, went but on foote and slowly, now they go on horsebacke and in post. All which notorious and grosse sinnes we may assure our selues are now in the ruffe, and (as it were) in the Aprill of their age, (whereas the former were but in their winter:) hauing so much more vigour and strength now then they had in former time, as trees and plants haue in the spring time, then in the winter season. The truth of all which shall be demonstrated here∣after in particular.

Now we haue so little cause to complaine of the want of Christian reproofes, instructions, reprehensions and admonitions, or to iudge it to be the reason of the loosenesse and leudnesse of our times, that if we consider the great mercie and fa∣uour of God towards vs in this behalfe, we cannot but wonder how the impietie of men at this day should any way come neare that of our auncestors. For where is the preacher now to be found (though many do nothing but flatter and bolster men vp in their sinnes) who if he should say in open pulpit with Oliuer Maillard (fol. 323. col. 2.) that whores ought to be tolerated, would not be afraid least little children would spit in his face? Or where is the man to be found, that dare main∣taine that damnable paradoxe, which Priests (as he saith) defended in his time, That a woman killing the child in her wombe, did not commit a mortall sinne? And albeit it hath euer bene an odious, and so consequently a dangerous thing, to reproue sinne (as we may see in Menot, who complaineth that Preachers in his time were threatned with a red hat, and that they should be made Cardinals without going to Rome, for preaching the truth; like Iohn Baptist, who for bringing the truth to Herods Court, left his head behind him) yet it was neuer halfe so dan∣gerous as at this day. And though flatterers, who are naturally caried with a hel∣lish hatred against such as reproue and censure sinne, swarme in greater multitudes then euer they did; and though the number of such as dare not speake the truth (for feare of hard measure, losse of goods, or future hopes) be as great as euer it was: notwithstanding vices are better detected and more sharply censured by preaching and writing, then they were in the dayes of our forefathers; which as it serues to aggrauate our sinnes the more, so it will make vs culpable of greater dam∣nation when we shall giue vp our account at the generall audite.

Touching the last point which I propounded to intreate of in this Chapter (to wit, that God punisheth sin more seuerely at this day then he did in former time) because it deserues a larger discourse, I will here onely adde this one thing, that he which hath no sense nor feeling thereof, is neither French-man, Italian, Spaniard, nor Germaine, but in the shape of a man, a very beast.

CHAP. X. How that the foresaid Preachers haue left sundry vices vntouched and vncensured.

BEfore I make a comparatiue estimate of the leudnesse of former times with the loosenesse of our owne, it will not be amisse to con∣sider whether the foresaid Preachers (whose testimonies I haue al∣ledged) haue omitted any particular, through obliuion, or other∣wise. First then albeit Oliuer Maillard and Menot (his punay) say little or nothing of incests, sodomies, and other prodigious vices, as murthering of father and mother, of wiues murthering their husbands, and husbands their wiues, parents their children, one brother another, and one kinsman another; we may not therefore thinke but that those times were stained with these sinnes: or (to speake more properly) that such infection which had continued festering so long, did then cease. I say which had continued so long, considering what we reade, not only in prophane Antiquitie, but especially in the Sacred history, of these and the like vices. For it fareth not with God as it did with the law-giuer Solon, who being told that he had not prescribed what punishment should be inflicted vpon parricides (there being then a malefactor taken who had murthered his father,) answered, he could not enact a law for the punishment of such a fact, as he could not imagine any man wold so much forget himself as once to cōmit. The case I say is farre otherwise with this great law-giuer, who seeth the most secret and hidden thoughts of mens hearts, and the motions of their minds more clearly then we see the feature of their faces. Neither may we thinke that any age hath bene free from such prodigious vices, but that they were euer extraordinary in respect of other sinnes, as also more rare in some countries and ages then in others. And I here pro∣test, it much misliketh me to enter discourse of such an argument. But as he who vndertakes to extoll the prowesse of Achilles aboue that of Hector or Aiax, is not to omit any of their heroicall exploits if he would haue Achilles more renowned and extolled to the skies: so considering the end of this discourse is to shew that the viciousnesse of our time is a perfect patterne thereof, being compared with that of the age last past (which notwithstanding surpasseth I suppose all former gene∣rations) I should not escape the sharpe censure of iust reprehension, if I should dis∣charge one of these ages of some vices, the more to loade the other: or if I should go about to keepe the credite of the one entire and inuiolable, by cracking the cre∣dite of the other. For as for the rest, I grant that though it was the will of God such prodigious sinnes should be recorded in holy Scripture; yet it is so much the bet∣ter, by how much we speake or thinke the lesse thereof. And as for sodomie, I am easily drawne to beleeue, that the former Preachers were very sparing in speaking thereof, lest they should open a gap to mens curiositie which is naturally exorbi∣tant in this kind. The more knaues are the Priests, who in their auricular confession (as they call it) stir the minds and awake the spirits of their confessionists by their interrogatories, occasioning them to muse vpon such matters, and to feed their fancies with such facts, as otherwise they would neuer haue dreamed of. For mine owne part I confesse, that for this very reason I haue had much ado to perswade my selfe, that swinish Sodomites and beastly buggerers should be executed pub∣likely. True it is, sundry weightie reasons may be alledged on both sides: but I hold me to that which I see practised in well ordered cities. Further∣more,

the reason which moues me to thinke that sodomie was not then (in all probabilitie) so common as at this day, is, for that there was not such resort into those countreys where it is made a trade and occupation as at this present. For proofe hereof if we consider who those French-men be that giue themselues to such horrible and hellish sinnes, we shall find that most of them haue bene in Italie or Turkie, or (not to go out of France to seeke them) haue frequented their companie, at leastwise haue familiarly conuersed with their schollers. For albeit A∣thenaeus tell vs in his thirteenth booke (which I remember I haue read elsewhere vnder the name of Hermippus) that the Celtes in his time, notwithstanding they had fairer women then other Barbarians, were addicted to this sinne: yet (God be thanked) before we could speake so good Italian in France, there was (almost) no speech of this villanie, as I haue heard of diuers old folkes. And verily it is more pardonable in Italians then in French-men (if pardonable in any,) seeing that they (who for the most part call it but peccatillo) are nearer their sanctities who do not onely giue a licence for it by way of permission, but a president also by way of example, as hereafter shall be shewed. Notwithstanding the words wherewith we expresse such diuellish and damnable dealing, being borowed from the Italian tongue, are a pregnant proofe that France learned all the villanie it hath of them, though it were hard to say from what particular place. For this is a common song in Italie, currant in euery mans mouth:

Siena si vanta di quatro cose, Di torri, & di campane, Di bardasse, & di puttane.

Or thus,

Siena di quatro cose e piena, Di torri, &c.

That is,

For these foure things Siena lookes so hie, For towers, for bels, for whores, for buggerie.

But Maister Pasquin sheweth plainely in sundry of his Satyres, that notwithstan∣ding that prouerb, Rome in regard of the third particular ought to go before Siena, as where he saith,

Sed Romae puero non licet esse mihi.

And were it but onely for the reason I haue now alledged, he cannot endure (and surely not without cause) that Rome should be depriued of this honour.

Touching incests, Italie (no doubt) will affoord vs better store of examples then any other countrey; whether we speake of this age, or of that of the former preachers: which we shall the better perceiue, if we shall consider the diuellish pro∣uerb which is there so common of fathers who haue mariageable daughters. But if I haue well obserued, there are more incests committed by Lords or men of note, then by meaner persons: which puts me in mind of that which is recorded by Pon∣tanus, how that Sigismondus Malatesta Lord of Romagniola, had a child by his own daughter. True it is that other prodigious villanies committed by the same man (if he may be called a man) and registred by the foresaid author, will make vs lesse to wonder hereat. For he reporteth how that he would haue abused his owne son Robert, and that he had made a buggering boy of him, if he had not drawne his dagger at him, and so escaped. As also how that being desirous to haue his pleasure of a vertuous Germaine Ladie that trauelled through his countrey to Rome, and perceiuing that he could not work her to his will, he cut her throate, and afterward

satisfied his lust. What can a man now find in Herodotus, I say not incredible, but hard to be beleeued? But it shall not be amisse to pause here a little, and to listen to that which Pontanus addeth after the narration of the incest committed by this wicked wretch. For he alledgeth two examples well worthy the noting, of a cer∣taine naturall honestie which is to be found euen among beasts, which condem∣neth such prodigious practises among men. The first is of a little bitch he had, which would neuer suffer her whelp to line her. Nunquam (saith he) passa est mater à filio suo iniri, & quamuis meis à pueris comprehensa teneretur, nihilominus ea mor∣dicus pueros à se reiecit, & in filium illata, illum dentibus malè habuit. The second is more strange; of a Mare that would not suffer her colt to couer her; but hauing bene at the last couered by him (being disguised with a skinne of another colour, & by other deuises,) after she once perceiued it, forsook her meate for very griefe, and died shortly after: which (as he saith) was told him by one Iohn Vingtmille an Italian Marquesse, whose the Mare and colt were. These be the two examples alledged by Pontanus, a man of so great credite, that I did not sticke to relate them vpon his word, albeit I am not ignorant they should be accounted of many but fond and fabulous: which (it seemeth) himselfe foresaw, and therefore vseth this preface in the narration of the first example, Referam quae ego ipse ex aduerso & vidi, & testor, & persancte etiam iuro: and for the second, he alledgeth his author of whom he heard it. But seeing that incests are extraordinary sinnes, why should we not think that God would oppose the extraordinary honesty which is to be found in certaine bruite beasts, to such villanie practised by men, to condemne the rea∣sonable creatures by the vnreasonable? Neuerthelesse I report my selfe to the thing as it is, especially considering the French prouerbe doth not account him a good dog that keepeth his kind. There is yet another kind of incest, according to those who haue bene of opinion, and are euen at this day, that Nunnes are holier then other women: and verily it may seeme, that sith they keepe the same place the Ve∣stal virgins did in old time (in the iudgment of such as call them by no other name in Latin but Vestales) we should call the whoredome committed with them, in∣cest; and that he which defloureth them after they haue once vowed virginitie to God (or to such or such a Saint) were a sacrilegious person; I grant the one, but not the other. I grant (I say) that forasmuch as this doughtie deuotion is borowed from the heathen, the word incest, whereby they were wont to expresse such a slippery tricke committed with a holy Nunne, may be kept, and that (to speake as heathen do) it may be called incest: but I denie that he that defileth a Nunne is a sacrilegious person, to speake as Christians do. For hereupon it would follow, that such virginitie should be a holy consecrated thing; and to the end it might be holy and consecrate, necessary it is, that either God or the Saint to whom it was vowed, consecrated or dedicated, should declare by solemne couenant and stipu∣lation that he did accept thereof: But how can they accept of that at the hands of a Nunne, which she cannot giue? Or what reason is there she should offer that, to which she hath no right? And if continencie be a speciall gift of God, how can any votary vow perpetuall virginitie either to God or the Saints, without a war∣rant from him so to do? To conclude then, certaine it is that he that knoweth such a vow of virginitie and single life to be but an abuse, and consequently that a Nun is no more holy then another woman, if he defloure her, he committeth neither sacriledge nor incest: whereas being otherwise perswaded he committeth both, in regard of conscience. And therefore the tyrant Dionysius was a sacrilegious person for robbing and spoiling of his Idols; which he was bound (according to his reli∣gion)

to haue holden for gods; whereas one of another religion holding them to be but Idols, should haue bene but a simple thiefe. And doubtlesse the folly which is committed with a Nunne, after she hath once lost her virginitie, be∣cause that of holy (according to her religion) she is made profane, is neither incest nor sacriledge in regard of either partie. Another difficultie remaines to be dis∣cussed, viz. whether a holy Monke hauing defloured a holy Nunne, ought to be accused therof or not? But leauing the deciding of this question to the next Coun∣cell, I will onely adde this one thing, that our kind Catholickes are not (it seemes) of this opinion, considering what small conscience they make hereof. The like I may say of those who were wont to lodge Nuns neare vnto Monkes, that (as good fellows speake) the barne might be neare the thrashers. How euer it be, it appeareth plainly by that which hath bene alledged out of Pontanus, that Nunneries were little better then stewes in the time of the former Preachers.

Touching the sinne against nature (of which I speake remembring my former protestation) we haue examples euen of those times. For the foresaid Pontanus writeth of a Brittan who had the companie of an Asse, whilest the French King Charles the eight held Naples.

It were also easie to alledge moderne examples of wiues murthering their hus∣bands, and husbands ther wiues: as also of brethren and nearest kinsmen embrew∣ing their hands in one anothers bloud: and of children murthering their parents, and parents their children, though this be more rare then the former. When hus∣bands murther their wiues, or wiues their husbands, they do it (for the most part) of spite or rather rage and madnesse caused by breach of wedlocke. For as histo∣ries make mention of diuers men who at the very instant, and in ipso facto (as we say) haue taken reuenge of their wiues who had played false with them: So they make report of women, who for the same reason haue wreaked their malice vpon their husbands, some by poison, others by other meanes; as we reade in Baptista Fulgosius, of a woman neare to Narbonne who in the night cut off her hus∣bands priuities because he had defiled the marriage bed. Notwithstanding the oc∣casion of some murthers proceeds from both parties, desiring to enioy their vn∣lawfull lusts with greater libertie. The cause of fratricide, or murthers committed by one brother vpon another, arise for the most part from hence, in that they can∣not agree whether of them should remaine absolute Lord; and so are enforced to decide their right by dint of sword, whereof we haue very auncient examples in the two Theban brethren, Eteocles and Polynices, in Rhemus and Romulus, in Ar∣taxerxes and Cyrus: and in the age last past (wherewith I compare the present) there was such hot bickering at Tunis in Africa betweene two brethren for the crowne, that they did not only kill one another in the quarrel, but also massacred their chil∣dren and ofspring, as Pontanus testifieth. But histories affoord vs moe examples of such as haue murthered their brethren vpon light occasions, by treason or other∣wise, when once they had them on the hip, especially of Italians, as Volaterran re∣porteth of Anthonie C••••signore, who slue Bartholmew his brother, to the end he might enioy the Dukedome of Verona, which was deuided betweene them by their fathers will. In like manner how one Pinus Ordelaphus vpon the like occasion slue his brother Francis, and banished his children. As also how Francis and Lewis sonne of Guido Gonzagua Duke of Mantua slue their brother Vgolin (pretending to make good cheare at a supper, to which they had inuited him) because their fa∣ther had left him sole heire of the Dukedome. Moreouer we reade of one Perinus Fregosa Duke of Genoua, who slue his brother Nicholas, hauing him in iealousie

that he aspired to the Dukedome. In like sort Lewis Marie put Galeace his brothers sonne to death, to the end he might the more quietly enioy the Dukedome of Millaine.

Touching murthering of parents (properly called parricide, though the signifi∣cation of the word be somewhat more large) we find in auncient histories that it was more ordinary with Kings, Princes, and great Lords, then with meaner men: and so it continues euen to this day. For the Emperour Fredericke the third was slaine by his owne sonne Manfred (his base sonne as some affirme) at leastwise he was the plotter and procurer of his death. And one Frisque murthered his father the duke of Ferrara, to the end he might come to the Dukedome, as indeed he did, though he enioyed it not long; for his subiects shortly after, executing Gods iust iudgement vpon him, cut his throate. And doubtlesse the age last part can neuer wash it hands of this wickednesse, albeit I produce no examples for confirmation hereof, hastening to end such discourses as should not onely be offensiue to Chri∣stian eares, but also make their very haires stand vpright on their heads. What say I Christians? Nay the very heathen also; yea the most barbarous and sauage among them.

CHAP. XI. That the notorious and incredible leudnesse of these times doth iustifie that which hath bene spoken of the wickednesse and impietie of the Age last past.

ALbeit there go strange reports of the hainous and horrible sinnes which raigned in the former Age; yet if we shall but a little consi∣der the course of the world, and listen to the common complaints, we shall find (would to God it were not so) far fouler facts, which will not onely induce vs to subscribe to the truth of that report, but further to confesse that the sinnes of those times were but sugar (as it is in the French prouerbe) in comparison of the villanies of these wherein we liue. I haue heretofore giuen a reason why sinne like a riuer, the further it goes, the greater it growes, and still increaseth till it come to be a great sea. But we may giue one more speciall touching these times. For besides that we haue trod in the steps of our an∣cestors, and followed their examples, as well in the carefull keeping of the vices whereof they left vs their heires and successors, as in improuing the old and pur∣chasing of the new by our good husbandry, we haue further increased the num∣ber of them by our trafficke and commerce with other countries, a thing more common at this day then euer it was in former times; to whom an hundred miles seemed longer then fiue hundred to vs: and for one that was curious to know the fashions of forreine countries, there are now a dayes ten, whom this gadding hu∣mour of rouing and ranging abroad, and coasting countries, carieth away; causing them to giue a farewell to their friends, and to forsake their dearest countrey, kins∣men and acquaintance. But what fruite reape they by such trauell? at leastwise what do the most reape? It was Horace his old song,

Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt.

That is,

They change the aire that seas do passe, But mind remaines the same that was.

But if in crossing the sea they haply change their mind, it is but as the weather∣cocke doth with the wind; for they are so farre from being bettered by their tra∣uell, that they are made much worse, mending their manners no otherwise then sower Ale doth in sommer. The reason whereof is mans inbred corruption, which hath an attractiue facultie to draw vice vnto it, as Amber doth a straw, or the load∣stone iron. Whence it is, that as ill weed (according to the old prouerbe) growes with speed: so vice hath his continuall (though insensible) growth in vs, and not vertue. Which the auncient Poet Hesiod seemeth to insinuate, when he saith, that Dame Wickednesse is easie to be found, as dwelling neare vnto vs; whereas Lady Vertue is inaccessible, and not to be spoken with, without great labour and paine, in that the way vnto her house and honour is not onely long and tedious, but also steepe and cragged. And haue we not dayly experience hereof in the most of our great trauellers? What shall we say of our Rome-rouers among the rest? Verily the old prouerbe hath long since concluded them in Bocardo:

Iamais ni cheual, ni homme N'amenda d'aller à Romme.

That is,

Nor horse, nor man, ere turned home, Ought betterd by the sight of Rome.

Which though it be spoken of Rome in particular, yet it may well be vnderstood of other countries also, seeing there is not one traueller among twentie (especially of the yonger sort) who returneth home againe, no not from his Holinesse or the holy land, but seemes to haue frequented the diuels rather then the diuinitie schooles. And as Italie is the onely country in the world, so Rome is the onely citie wherein an Abel may learne to becom a Cain, where a lambe may be transformed into a Lion, and a man into a monster. And yet notwithstanding it is accounted a greater grace to a man to haue bene student in such a schoole, then it was in times past to haue bene trained vp in Athens, stored with so many learned Philosophers. Nay, the more a French-man is Romanized or Italianized, the sooner he shall be promoted by great Lords, as hauing bestowed his time well, and as being a man fit for employment by meanes of the temper and mixture of two seuerall dispo∣sitions. As though a Frenchman taken in his pure naturals were not bad enough to be employed in their sweete dealings, except he haue learned the tricke of the Italian trade.

Now that men in these dayes must needs exceed their auncestors in wicked∣nesse, may hence appeare, in that they are bound prentises to the trade, and pra∣ctise it sooner. And whence comes this, but partly from hence, in that youth is set at libertie, and haue the reine laid in their neckes to runne at randon at their plea∣sure, before they come to be of age; and partly for that Iuuenals rule was neuer worse kept:

Maxima debetur puero reuerentia, si quid, Turpe paras.—

And it is the common complaint of old men almost in all places, that yong chil∣dren who cannot speake readily, can sweare roundly, and rap out oathes thick and threefold, in such sort, that men of yeares in time past were not able to vie with them. And therefore we are not so much to wonder to heare some of all sorts, as tailers and tinkers, carters and coblers, and the rest of the rascalitie, sweare, blas∣pheme, and renounce God (according to the French prouerbe, Apertient il à vn vilain de renier Dieu?) as some of all ages, as well yong as old. And yet it makes

old folkes wonder, and that not a little, to see yong children who are scarce crept out of their cradles, to be sent to schoole, and to haue some smacke of learning: whereupon they iudge vs more fortunate then themselues, in that scholers at this day leaue the schoole almost at the same age that they were wont to be sent thi∣ther in time past. Whence they are induced to beleeue, that children are far more ripe and pregnant now then they were in their yonger yeares. But all things duly considered, it will appeare that that which should be a helpe and furtherance to the greatest part of youth, is a let and hinderance vnto them. I grant indeed that children at this day can conceiue more at six or seuen yeares of age (as experience shewes) then they could in old time at nine or ten: which is not to be ascribed to the quicknesse of their wit in vnderstanding, but to the more easie and facile me∣thod of teaching; whence it is, that they profit more in one yeare, then our aunce∣stors did in two. But pittie it is to see many, who hauing discontinued but three or foure dayes from schoole, haue need to returne to their horne-booke againe: so that as they are more happie and fortunate then their auncestors in learning quickly; so are they more vnfortunate in forgetting it as fast. The reason wherof is, for that they giue ouer the schoole before they come to strength of memory, ca∣pacitie and iudgement.

But this is farre worse (for it redounds to the great contempt and derision of learning) in that many send not their children to schoole to learne, but onely to sharpen their wits and to quicken their spirits, by meanes of continuall companie (youths being as it were a whetstone to sharpen one another:) and in a word to let them like vntamed colts, haue a little more scope and libertie to runne at large, and to giue them the first fleshing in wickednes; which some call liuelinesse, others finenesse and featnesse, or gallantnesse, or pleasantnesse, or sharpnesse of wit, or ci∣uilitie, &c. For many now a dayes send their children to schoole only till such time as they be fit to be made pages, where they are sure to lose that little learning they had formerly gotten, if haply they had any beaten into their heads: being (in the meane time) so farre from loosing their first seasoning, that they adde thereto a second and a third. Some send their children to schoole to learne three or foure words of Latin, till they be of yeares to trauell into Italy, where like restie colts they may be broken, and like haggar hawkes learned to the lure, and absolutely ac∣complished in courtlike complements. Howbeit some gentlemen send not their sons into Italy to learne fashions and gallant behauiour onely, proper to the coun∣trey; but in hope that when they are weary with visiting curtizans, they will find some spare time to visite Bartol. And I perswade my selfe that he who writing to his sonne at Padua, superscribed his letter (for feare he should belie him) studenti Patauij, aut studendi causa misso, mistrusted some such dealing, though it grieued him (poore man) not a little. Howbeit it were a wonder if one almost among twentie, returning home from trauel, should remember any other lawes then such as begin with La signora Lucretia, La signora Angela, La signora Camilla, or the like. Though I am not ignorant that in old time also (as Menot witnesseth) our yong gallants left Bartol bawling in his chaire, and went to the dancing schoole, and to court Ladies. But not to speake how those which trauell into Italy are in danger to be infected with farre worse vices (as dayly experience shewes) this mischiefe also followes in the necke of it, that they are not onely restrained by the feare of God, but also by the feare of man, as being in forreine and farre remote countries out of their sight who might controle them. For I remember that whilest Odet de Selue was Embassadour for the French King at Venice (about thirteene yeares ago)

there was a yong gentleman some fourteene or fifteen yeares of age, sent into Italy by his father (then Counseller of the high Court of Parliament at Paris) vnder the tuition of his old Tutor: who at his departure from his fathers house, was of as meeke, gentle and tractable a disposition as could be wished: but after he had con∣tinued certaine dayes at Venice, and some few of Padua, he grew so stubburne and stout, that whereas his Tutor was wont to hold a high hand ouer him, and to keepe him short, he was then glad not onely to let loose the reines to his head-strong af∣fections, but euen to lay the bridle in his necke, and suffer him to runne at large, and become a Tutor to himselfe. To wind vp all in a word, certaine it is, that whe∣ther it be for the reasons formerly alledged, or for some other, the impietie of these times farre surpasseth all former ages: being growne to that height within these fiue and twentie yeares, that men make no bones to commit that, which they would then haue loathed once to haue spoken, or entertained in their secretest thoughts. As for the vices wherewith our ancestors were infected, there is as great difference betweene their dissolutenesse and ours, as betweene those who are dis∣pleased with themselues for their slips and sinnes of infirmitie, and such ••s glorie in their wickednesse. For what should we say of this age, when yong Princes and noble mens sonnes haue tutors and instructors for blasphemies and worse matters which for shame I cannot name? But this shall suffice to haue spoken in generall: I will now descend vnto particulars.

And here some may haply demaund, what benefite a man may reape by such a discourse? To which I answer, that the benefit is greater then we may perchance imagine, if we consider that God layes a more heauie hand vpon vs now, then he did in former time (as shall be declared hereafter in a seuerall Chapter) that we re∣membring his boundlesse mercie in the midst of his iust iudgements, might the more be moued to repentance. For here we shall perceiue (if we will not sooth and flatter our selues) that for one plague and punishment inflicted vpon vs, we deserue an hundred: and that whereas he correcteth vs but with rods of men, he might shiuer vs in peeces with his rod of Iron. Besides, we are to hold this as a most vndoubted truth, that it is not without cause that so many fearfull examples and prodigious sins euen of the Saints are registred in holy Scripture. For whence do we learne the frowardnesse and corruption of our nature, or the sleights of Sa∣tan, and his implacable hatred against mankind, or how he lies in ambush for vs at euery corner, and watcheth vs at euery turne, but by such accidents as haue befalne them who without all hope of recouery haue intangled themselues in his snares? And whence can we better know in what need we stand of all Gods helping hand, then by the dayly dangers wherewith we are beset on euery side, being so many warning peeces to admonish vs to stand vpon our guard? And seeing we cannot be ignorant, that all our helpe commeth onely from aboue, and that there is none safely guarded but he that is guarded by the heauenly guard of Gods holy Angels, euery rumour and report of such hainous and horrible crimes▪ should be so many alarmes (as it were) to rouse vs from our securitie, and to stirre vs vp to re∣commend our selues more earnestly into his hands, and to plie him more effectu∣ally by humble and heartie prayer, that he would not leaue vs to our selues, nor let loose the reines to our vnruly and disordered affections, but bridle and keep them in compasse, and euer take vs into his holy protection: like little children, who the more they are afraid, the more carefully they hide themselues, and the further they creepe into their mothers lap. For if seeing a man that hath any bodily ble∣mish or imperfection, we haue iust cause offered vs to lift vp our hearts by thank∣fulnesse

vnto God for preseruing vs from the like, and to acknowledge withall that we are liable to as great, if not greater dangers. How much more when we see any that hath foully forgotten himselfe, and fallen into any fearfull sinne, to giue him thankes for keeping vs from falling into the like: and withall to acknowledge that we are made of the same mould, and that we haue no pattent to be exempted from such dangers, but so long as it shall please him to assist vs by his grace, and keepe vs in his holy feare, restraining the rage of the diuell our deadly enemie; that though he assaile vs, yet he may not preuaile against vs. Now then if this present discourse shew euidently that this deadly enemy of mankind hath doubled his forces in these latter dayes, ought it not stirre vs vp to greater vigilancie and watch∣fulnesse ouer our hearts and liues, to stand vpon our guard, and to arme our selues at all points with the complete armour of the Spirit? Vice (we know) was euer pu∣nished in all ages and religions. But where the heathen respected onely exemplary punishment, in doing open execution vpon malefactors, that others might heare and feare, and deale no more presumptuously: Christians haue gone a step fur∣ther, and haue had a deeper insight thereinto, viz. that those that would not be kept in compasse by the feare of God, should be kept in order and awe by the feare of man; I meane by feare of punishment which the law hath appointed to be in∣flicted vpon them according to the nature and qualitie of their offence. For the heathen Poet said long ago,

Odérunt peccare boni virtutis amore, Odérunt peccare mali formidine poena.

That is,

The good for vertues loue from ill refraine, The ill refraine from ill for feare of paine.

Whereunto Christians also accord, saue that they deliuer it in other termes, when they say, that the reason why the godly do not powre themselues forth into plea∣sure, and let loose the reines to their lusts, is because they haue the feare of God continually before their eyes. Feare (I say) proceeding from a loue truly filiall, and no way seruile; as the good child feareth to offend his father for the loue he bea∣reth him. Moreouer, this benefite we may reape by this discourse, that it will serue vs in stead of a monitor, to giue vs warning of those many sleights and deceits so common and rife in the world.

CHAP. XII. Wherein is declared by how much Whoredome is greater, and more notorious at this day, then euer it was.

TO begin then where formerly I began (yet not tying my selfe pre∣cisely to the same method) we heare how mightily Menot exclai∣meth against whoredome committed in his time. But if he were now liuing, neither his exclamations, nor the out-cries of his fel∣lowes (though made with open mouth) would be sufficient. For since it was notoriously knowne, that the place where the Popes Holinesse makes his abode, is the chiefe harbour and hospitall for whores (I should haue said Cur∣tizans) of all countries: he that kept a whore before with some remorse of consci∣ence, thought he should then surely do a meritorious worke, if he entertained one;

and that if he kept many, he should performe workes of supererogation: so that many began to keepe whole droues of whores, as of horses. In a word, the new and strange punishments inflicted vpon men for such filthinesse, may sufficiently shew how that since that time, the most haue euen plunged themselues ouer head and eares into this pit of whoredome. For as Phisitians vse new and desperate re∣medies, for desperate and incurable diseases: so God hath sent these displeing dames, the French-poxe and the Knaue-bald disease, and all their traine, as a iust punishment vpon the Age wilfully giuen ouer to all wantonnesse and villanie, without hope of recouery, to execute his iust iudgments. The which doth better discouer the surpassing wickednesse of these times: for as wicked children are hardened by the rod; so men are now so hardened against these diseases, which not long since were held so prodigious, that a man would haue thought euen wild and sauage beasts would haue bene tamed therby; that in stead of standing in feare of them, they euen seeke them out, and dare them in their dens. Albeit we daily see the most frolicke youthes and brauest gallants soonest rot away by peece-meale; and many a Captaine who hath bene another Roland in sundry battels, at length to giue vp his last breath in their pawes, hauing long encountered them with many potions: and yet for all this in diuers companies, he is accounted but a dastard, a milk-sop, and a white liuerd souldier that hath not trauelled fiue or sixe times into Sweatland, till he haue bene in danger to leaue his skin behind him. To conclude, men are now so hardened with stripes, and do so eagerly pursue their pleasures in a brutish kind of sensualitie, that they are nothing afraid of the French poxe which hath bene in former times, but onely of the quintessence of the pockes, which is said to haue begun within these few yeares. Indeed, I well remember, I was once at Padua at Michaël Falopp••o's lecture, where he promised to shew his schollers the next day, how they might haue their bellies full of whoredome and lecherie, without any feare of Madame the French pockes, or any of her traine.

2 But if we compare this age with the age last past, we shall (no doubt) find that in those times, onely simple fornication and adultery were knowne and talked of; such (I meane) as were not incestuous: and that men made as great conscience to defloure a Nun, as the heathen did to defloure a Vestall virgin, putting as great dif∣ference betweene the defiling of Vestals and other virgins, as between simple theft and sacriledge: whereas now euen those who account of Nunnes as the heathen did of their Vestals, and thinke it incest to defloure them, cease not to make com∣mon stewes of Nunneries. Touching the second kind of incest which Popish su∣perstition suffered not to be accounted incest (albeit Gods word hath condem∣ned it) who seeth not how common it is growne? Is there not an Italian prouerbe which maketh but a ieast at the incest of the father with his affianced daughter? Whereof I will giue examples when I come to speake of Cleargie-men: and will here onely adde this one thing, how that some in these dayes haue committed strange incests, and almost incredible. We reade in the Queene of N••••••rres nar∣rations of one who lying with his mother (thinking he had laine 〈◊〉〈◊〉 gentle∣woman) had a child by her, which was his sister and daughter, and afterwards his wife; and so from one simple incest fell into two other, though as ignorant thereof as he was of the former: which happened through his mothers default, presuming too much of her constancie; for she not crediting her gentlewomans report, that her sonne did intice and sollicite her to folly▪ to the end she might know the truth, went at the time appointed in her roome▪ where in stead of preuenting a lesse euil, by this meanes, she kept her roome so well (not making her selfe knowne) that she

caused her sonne to fall into that so horrible and detestable a sinne: who afterwards (not knowing nor once suspecting any such thing) married her whom he had begotten in such incest. But to omit incests committed of ignorance, we dayly heare of others no lesse abominable, committed of set purpose, and that not by Clergy-men onely (as shall be shewed hereafter) but by Lay men also. Nay, great mens houses (though otherwise honorable) are generally stained with incestuous mariages. Further, what shall we say to those of our time, who to go beyond their predecessors in all villanie, are come to this passe, to keepe schooles of whoredom, and by lasciuious pictures (printed euen at Rome) to reade men a lecture, teaching them (as it were) by ocular demonstration? If the very heathen did detest and ab∣horre that villaine Elephantis for such pictures, what shal we say of our age, where∣in men professing themselues Christians, haue taken pleasure in such abhomi∣nations?

3 As for such as sold their daughters in former time, what strange thing did they in cōparison of those who at this day sel not onely their daughters, but themselues also? And what shall we say of those wittals, who lend, or pawne, or sell their wiues for ready mony? Verily such women are greatly to be pitted: but some of them (I warrant you) know well enough how to crie quittance with their husbands: as she did who was lent to a yong Cardinall at the Councel of Trent. For though at the first she was as nice as a Nunnes hen, and needed great intreatie to pleasure this yong Prelate; saying, it went against her conscience to impart that vnto him, which of right was due to none but to her husband: yet her kind heart being per∣swaded, at the last she gaue her consent, and found such comfort in this Prelates first visitation, that the next morning she brought her husband the money which was promised him; saying, Here is the mony which was promised you for the lone of me, but assure your selfe it is a plaine and simple sale, therefore you may do wel to prouide your selfe of another wife; for whereas you would but lend me, I had rather be sold outright, that I may not change so often: and so it was concluded. Now as there are some women, whose case is to be pittied: so on the other side it is great pitie to see some wittals weare hornes to their great griefe, and yet dare not for their eares complaine to those that might redresse it. For what haue the most of them gottē, who haue so long sued to be diuorced from their adulterous wiues, but to be flouted, laughed to scorne, and pointed at euen by little children, who could say that such & such caused thēselues to be canonized for cuckolds. Indeed I remēber that a man of worth, after a tedious & importunate sute, was diuorced frō his light huswife: but by this means she had that which she desired, for she was put into a monastery, where in stead of punishment, she had oportunitie to follow her occupation with greater libertie. I haue also heard of one, who complaining of the wrong which his wife offered him, receiued this answer: Why sir, would you be more priuiledged then such a great Lord, a man of such valour, who knowes full well that his wife makes him cuckold, as well when he is in the Court present with her, as when he is in the country absent from her, and yet dare not speake a word for feare of cracking his credit? Thus we see how long custome in sin hath so be∣reft many at this day of all sense of ciuill honestie, that they make but a ieast at that, which their ancestors counted the greatest crosse and corrasiue in the world: I say their auncestors, including the heathen as well as Christians. For the Grecians and Romans (we know) punished adultery most seuerely, following the law of God therein. But not to seeke farre backe nor farre off for examples, we may iudge by that which befell the high Stuards wife of Normandie (in the raigne of king Lewis

the eleuenth) whether at that time they made but a ieast of adultery, as they do at this day. For he hauing taken his Ladie vpon the sodaine playing the whore with his steward, first slue the adulterer before her face, and after put her to the sword likewise (notwithstanding their children which she held in her armes:) and yet was neuer troubled by the King, nor called coram for the matter, albeit she was de∣scended of a noble house, and of the bloud royall, as some affirme. Would not such a fact seeme strange at this day? No doubt it would, considering that the world is cleane changed from that it was in former time, and (as it were) turned vp side downe. For they are now growne to this height of impudencie, to make wanton songs of purpose to embolden and flesh Venus white liuerd souldiers, to violate their faith plight to their husbands; one of which beginneth thus:

Ne void on pas les hommes Faire vertu d'aimer? Et sottes que nous sommes, Nous le voulons blasmer. Ce que leur est louable, Nous tourne à deshonneur, Et faute inexcusable. O dure loy d'honneur. Pourquoy nature sage, &c.

That is,

See we not men so honour wanton loue With vertues stile, which we fond fooles reproue? That which in them deserues so faire a name, To vs why should it turne to mickle blame? Hard law of honour, why did nature sage? &c.

This song likewise (which was common in euery mans mouth at the Court) was made vpon a Vandeuille, beginning thus:

Ne void on pas les hommes se iouer ça & là? Et sottes que nous sommes, n'osons faire cela.

That is,

How do our gallants swagger to and fro? But fooles that we are, we dare not do so.

And there was another in as great request: the argument whereof was the licenci∣ous libertie and impunitie of adulterie, a sinne so rife at this day: one straine of the song is this:

Ami cocu, veux-tu que ie te die, Si tu m'en crois, ne di ta maladie. Car si ta femme vn coup est descouuerte, Elle voudra le faire à porte ouuerte. Estre cocu n'est pas mauuaise chose, Si autre mal on ne luy presuppose.

That is,

Cuckold my friend, if thou wilt me belieue, Neuer expresse the thing that gars thee grieue. For if thy wife be knowne once for a whore, She then will iade thee at thine open doore. It matters not so much to weare an horne, And if it might be free from others scorne.

The conclusion of the song is this:

Ou si tu crois cocu estre vne tache, Garde toi bien au moins qu'on ne le sache. Le remede est à qui les cornes porte, De les planter ailleurs de mesme sorte.

That is,

If hornes thou deemst a blemish to thy brow, See well that neuer man thy sorrow know. Hornes haue no cure, but when thy selfe is sped, To plant thy hornes vpon anothers head,

I am not ignorant that this sweet song was made in imitation of Ouid; but the que∣stion is, whether he being a prophane Pagan, be a sufficient warrant for Christians to oppose such notorious vile villanies to Gods holy commaundements? And which is yet more, he was then accounted no body that could not sing this song; whereas if a man had sung the ten commandements, or one of Dauids Psalmes, they would haue sung him a song of frying a fagot, and committed him to the Lords of the burning chamber. My selfe being in the Court, had mine eares often beaten with a like song coming out of some such shop, in which mention is made of a certaine Ladie, who perceiuing her selfe to wrinkle and waxe old, greatly la∣mented her former course of life, viz. that she had bene honest, and kept touch with her husband: the song beginneth thus:

Ie plain le temps de mon florissant aage, &c.

That is,

I waile the time of my once flouring age, &c.

Thus thou seest (gentle Reader) how they incite women to wantonnesse and dal∣liance, as if they were slacke and backward of themselues, when they are intreated to play such pageants: those I meane especially who are brought vp in all idlenesse, delicacie and wantonnesse; for whose good, these songs (containing such goodly instructions) were purposely made. I omit other triuiall songs, many prouerbes, as also sundry wanton and effeminate speeches and gestures, which aime at no∣thing else but the corrupting of maids and matrons. For (to wind vp all in a word) there is no deuice so diuelish or damnable, but hath bene found out in these daies, to make vices vertues: which I vnderstand especially of whoredome. And to the end they might throughly corrupt vs, they haue erected Priapus his images againe with all their traine, in their pleasant gardens; witnesse that of Saint Germain des Prez at Paris, so finely trimmed by an Italian who was owner therof, and who kept a brothell house in it for all commers. What remaines there then to make the vices of this Age so superlatiue, but that it may out-strip and go beyond not onely the age last past, but all others since the world began? Verily nothing but the modest pictures of Philaenis and Elephantis. But hath not Italy (I speake it with griefe) fur∣nished vs with as bad, or rather with worse then they? Yea, and with some such as were not heard of before: wherin that is liuely presented to the eye, which who∣soeuer hath but a sparke of the feare of God in his heart, cannot so much as name with our horror. So that we may wel say, Venimus ad summū: and yet all too little to set forth the exceeding great wickednes, & supersuperlatiue knauery of these times in this particular. For who of all the heathen are more lasciuious, more loosly licen∣cious and dissolute in speech, or (in a word) more deadly enemies to chastity, then the Poets, especially the Latin Elegiacks? And yet Propertius a captain among them cōplaines of the like wickednes (though not altogether so notorious) whē he saith:

Quae manus obscoenas depinxit prima tabellas, Et posuit casta turpia visa domo, Illa puellarum ingenuos corrupit ocellos, Nequitiae{que} suae noluit esse rudes. Ah gemat in terris ista qui protulit arte, Iurgia sub tacita condita laetitia. Non istis olim variabant tecta figuris, Quum paries nullo crimine pictus erat.

And as concerning the last distich, with what else I beseech you are walles pain∣ted at this day (being alwayes in the view of children, and those of the yonger sort, who are yet vnder the rod) saue with such pictures? Or with what pictures are halles and chambers garnished, saue with these? I had thought I had bin at an end, but I perceiue I am yet to begin, in that sundry other offer themselues to my pen, which haue bene deuised (at leastwise practised) by Christians 〈◊〉〈◊〉 these dayes. Notwithstanding I will content my selfe with one other, in comparison whereof these statues of Priapus erected in gardens and others, resembling those of Phila∣nis and Elephantis, may seeme to be but toyes, not to be spoken of. It is a fine pa∣geant which was playd at Bloys, when King Henrie the second made his entrance into that citie, in which they caused a company of whores (those especially whom the Italians call Sfaciate) to be stript naked, and to ride vpon oxen in this modest manner; making this goodly shew wheresoeuer these gallants which followed them (performing the office of pique-boeufs) thought good. Moreouer, we heare how Menot (poore soule) exclaimeth against certaine for making their baudie bargaines in Churches. But what would he say to those that commit whoredome in Chappels, taking all their Saints of both sexes there present for witnesses? Which wanton and wicked dealing, the Lord (no doubt) suffereth in iudgement, to the end that those places which haue bene so long time spirituall brothel houses for men to commit spirituall fornication in, should be also reall brothell houses, e∣uen stewes and sties of sinne, where they might defile themselues by bodily pol∣lution. And what would he say (trow we) of another profane practise, yet more strange, viz. of such as apply the holy Scripture, and sentences of the auncient Do∣ctors to their baudy and beastly songs? as we see in these verses:

Sainct Augustin instruisant vne Dame, Dit que l'amour est l'ame de nostre ame: Et que la foy, tant soit constante & forte, Sans ferme amour est inutile & morte. Sainct Bernard fait vne longue homelie, Où il benit tous les coeurs qu'amour lie. Et sainct Ambroise en fait vne autre expresse, Où il maudit ceux qui sont sans maistresse. Et de Lyra là dessus nous reconte Que qui plus aime, & plus haut au ciel monte. Celui qui sçeut les secrets de son maistre, Dit que l'aimant damné ne sauroit estre. Et dit bien plus le Docteur Seraphique, Que qui point n'aime, est pire qu'heretique. Pource qu'amour est feu pur & celeste, Qui ne craint point qu'autre feu le moleste.

Et c'est pour quoi (comme dit sainct Gregoire) Vn aimant fait ici son Purgatoire.

That is,

Austine instructing a deuouter Dame, Sayes, Loue the soule is of our liuing soule, And faith how euer firme and resolute, Withouten loue, all bootlesse is and dead. And Bernard writes a longsome homily, Blessing all hearts y bound with chaines of loue. And Ambrose writes another not vnlike, Censuring all that do a mistris want. Whereon Lyranus in his learned glosse, Sayes, more we loue, the nearer we aspir•• To heauens height. And he that in lie knew His mistris secret thewes, could boldly say, The man that loues, can neuer damned be. And that Seraphique Doctor well defines Who loues not's worse then an hereticke. And for loue is a pure celestiall fire, That cannot be by other fires annoyd: Wisely concludeth hence Saint Gregorie, That louers here do frie in Purgatorie.

The conclusion is this:

Nulle de nous ne soit donques si dure Qu'elle resiste à la saincte Escriture: Puis qu'on la void de ce propos remplie, Que pour aimer, la Loi est accomplie.

That is,

Let non so hardie be to dare oppose The sacred writ; whose euery page auowes The law by loue fulfild.

See here the brazen faced impudencie of these miserable miscreants, thus shame∣fully prophaning the holy Scripture, in making it serue them as their bawd. A far fouler fact then that whereof Menot complaineth, when he exclaimeth against certaine letchers for making their baudie bargaines in Churches. It is true indeed (may some say) but it haply neuer came to their eares that had either wit in their heads to perceiue the impietie that lay masked vnder this vizard, or authoritie in their hands to punish those that sung it. To which I answer, that there was neuer song in such request, or which better pleased, especially those kind of men. Others there are who haue vsed sentences of Scripture, as namely certaine verses taken out of the Psalmes, in their wanton ballads and lasciuious songs. For it is not of late time (as we know) that they tooke this libertie to make themselues merry, by v∣sing the Scripture phrase to grace a conceit or a ieast. But we shall haue fitter oc∣casion to speake hereof in the Chapter of blasphemies. Let this now suffice for Me∣nots complaint.

4 Moreouer, these Preachers crie out with might and maine against the bawds of their time: and Menot hath a bout with the Lords of the Parliament for letting them their houses; being horne mad with them for giuing their helping hand, or shewing any countenance to such wicked wretches. But what would he say (may

we thinke) of those, who for their good and faithfull seruice in making baudy bar∣gaines, haue bene in such fauour with Princes, that they haue not stucke to bestow castles, benefices, offices, and great dignities vpon them? Witnesse a Bishop, who bragged in my hearing, that whereas men in times past came to great preferment by their learning, and by being good Latinists, he for his part vnderstood not a word of Latine, but onely passelatine, by meanes whereof he was aduanced to that dignitie. This his passelatine was (as most would confesse, if I should name him) the office of a bawd, although he made no brags thereof.

CHAP. XIII. Of Sodomie, and the sinne against nature, com∣mitted at this day.

MOreouer, if there were nothing else but such swinish Sodomie as is cōmitted at this day, might we not iustly terme this age the paragon of abhominable wickednesse? The heathen (I confesse) were much addicted to this vice: but can it be shewed that it was euer accounted among Christians as a vertue? Yet some in these daies haue not only accounted it a vertue, but also written in commendation of it, and published their writings in print, to the view of the world. For we may not forget how that Iohn de la Case a Florentine and Archbishop of Beneuent writ a booke in Italian rime, wherein he sings forth a thousand praises in commendation of this sinne; which good Christians cannot so much as thinke of without horrour: calling it (among other epithets which he giueth it) a heauenly worke. This booke was printed at Ve∣nice by one Troianus Nanus, as they who copied it out do testifie. The author of which worthy work, was the man to whom I dedicated certaine of my Latin ver∣ses, whilest I was at Venice. But I protest, I committed that fault before I knew him to be such a monster. And when I was aduertised thereof, it was past recall and re∣couery. But to returne to this so foule and infamous a sinne: Is it not great pittie that gentlemen, who before they trauelled into Italy abhorred the very naming of it, should after they haue continued there a time, delight themselues not onely in talking and discoursing, but in practising and professing it, as a thing which they haue learned in a happie time? As for those who through bad custome haue onely kept the Italian phrase there commonly spoken (though borowed from such wic∣ked villany) they haue (I grant) some colourable excuse. But what can the rest al∣ledge for themselues? Yet I dare not affirme that all who are tainted with this sin, learned it in Italy or Turkie: for our M. Maillard was neuer there, and yet he made profession of it. So that he, who like a great Sorbonical doctor caused so many silly soules to frie a fagot against all right and reason, equitie and conscience, was the man whom the Iudges might iustly haue burned, not as a Lutheran (as they then called them) or an obstinate Gospeller, but as a Sodomiticall buggerer.

2 But I were much to blame if I should forget Peter Lewis (or rather Aloi∣sius, for he was called in Italian Pietro Aloisio) sonne to Pope Paule the third. This Prince of Sodome, Duke of Parma and Placentia, that he might not degenerate from the Popish progeny (whence he was descended) was so addicted to this hor∣rible and hellish sinne, and so caried away with the burning thereof, that he did not onely forget the iudgements of God, and the prouident care he should haue

had of his good name (at least with such as make no conscience to giue them∣selues to such villanie.) Nay (which is more) he did not onely forget that he was a man, but euen the dayly danger of death it selfe, whereof bruite beasts do stand in feare. For not content to satiate his lawlesse lust with innumerable persons of all sorts, sexes and degrees, he went a wooing at the last to a yong man, called Cos∣mus Cherius then Bishop of Fano: and perceiuing that he could not otherwise haue his pleasure of him, and worke him to his will, he caused his men to hold him. Shortly after which fact, he receiued the reward due to such monsters: and as he had led a wicked and shamefull life, so they made for him so infamous and villa∣nous an Epitaph, that the Reader had need of a pomander in his pocket, or some preseruatiue, least his stomacke should rise at the reading thereof.

3 Concerning bestialitie, or the sinne against nature (which was euer more common among shepheards then others) who so list to make enquirie into the examples of later times, shall find as great store of them as of the rest. But if any desire examples of fresher memory, let him go to the Italian souldiers of the camp that would haue beleaguered Lyons, during the ciuill warres, and aske them what they did with their goates. Notwithstanding an accident happened in our time farre more strange then any that can be alledged in this kind, of a woman burned at Thoulouse (about seuen and twenty yeares ago) for prostituting her self to a dog, which was also burned with her for company: which I account a most strange fact, considering her sexe. Now this sinne I call the sinne against nature, hauing re∣spect rather to the common vse and phrase of speech, then to the proper signifi∣cation of the word, according to which, Sodomie is as well a sinne against nature as bestialitie. But not to enter into a warfare of words, let this suffice, that bruite beasts do condemne vs herein.

4 Now albeit the former example be very strange, yet we haue here ano∣ther farre more strange (though not altogether so wicked) committed about thir∣tie yeares ago by a maide borne at Fountaines (betweene Blois and Rōmorantin) who hauing disguised her selfe like a man, serued as an hostler at an Inne in the sub∣urbes of Foy for the space of seuen yeares, and afterwards maried a maide of the towne, with whom she accompanied for the space of two yeares or thereabout, attempting much, but effecting nothing: after which time her cosinage and kna∣uery in counterfeiting the office of a husband being discouered, she was appre∣hended, and hauing confessed the fact, was burned. By which examples we see that our Age may well boast, that (notwithstanding the vices of former times) it hath some proper and peculiar to it selfe. For this fact of hers, hath nothing com∣mon with that which was practised by those famous strumpets, who in old time were called Tribades.* 1.6

CHAP. XIIII. Of blasphemies and execrations vsed at this day.

I Come now to intreate of blasphemies; in handling whereof, I wil obserue no other method then that which offereth it selfe to my memory, as it shall furnish me with examples. First then, what would the iolly Preachers, Oliuer Maillard, Menot and Barelete say (may we thinke) if they should returne backe into their countries

againe, to see the diuelish demeanour of these wicked wretches, & to heare them blaspheme, renounce, and reneigue God in such fearfull manner? Or what would holy King Lewis say, if he were now liuing? Where might he find tormentors enow to pierce and cut out blasphemous tongues, except blasphemers should butcher one another? And what would they say (trow we) if they should heare this prouerbe, or prouerbiall comparison from the mouth of euery paisant, He sweareth like a gentleman? (sutable to that we mentioned before, It is not for a vil∣laine to renounce God): or if they should heare the common sort say, He sweareth like an Abbot: or He sweareth like a carter: would they not wonder to heare so many of these likes? I make no question but they wold. Yet I perswade my self they wold wonder much more, if they should see how gentlemen and noblemen (be it spo∣ken without disparagement to true gentry and nobilitie, which makes ciuilitie and pietie the two moulds wherein they frame their actions) rather teach their chil∣dren to say, I renounce God, then I beleeue in God. Doubtlesse if good King Lewis had heard such blasphemies, he would haue thought himselfe among the infernall fiends in the very bottome of hell. And he would (no doubt) much more haue abhorred it, if he should haue seene yong Princes haue tutors for blasphemies (as for some good and commendable science) to teach them to vary, change, and di∣uersifie them euery way, to pronounce them with their right accents, and to ani∣mate them with like audacitie, without either hicke or hem.

2 I might here shew how we outstrip and go beyond our auncestors, as well in this as in other vices: I meane not onely in blaspheming, but in the forme and manner of blasphemie, or rather formes and manners, they being almost infinite. But it shall suffice to giue a tast hereof in a word or two, and to shew how besides old and new blasphemies, bred and borne (as I may say) in our natiue soile, they haue made a hotchpotch of them with those of forreine countries: as though they alone were not sufficient to incense the maiestie of God, and to pull vpon vs his fearfull iudgements. But not to insist vpon these, there are some blasphemies in the Italian tongue so fearfull, horrible and hideous, that they may seeme to pro∣ceed rather from diuels then from men. Of which number, that is one which I heard out of a Priests mouth at Rome, which shall not be forgotten in his proper place. And it may wel go hand in hand with this which was vttered by an Italian at Venice (no Priest, but a secular man) as he was playing at cards in the French Am∣bassadors house, Venga'l cancaro al lupo; what hurt in this? may some say. Verily his notable villanie herein appeares, in that he spake it (as appeared afterward) by a fi∣gure called Aposiopesis, or Reticentia, in stead of Venga'l cancaro al lupo, che non man∣gio Christo quando era agnello: calling Christ Agnello, by allusion to that of S. Iohn, Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi: Behold the Lambe of God which taketh away the sinnes of the world. Likewise the blasphemie of the Italian who was wont to say, A bots on the Asse that caried Christ to Ierusalem, was very wild, but not so wicked. I omit Putana di Christo, and sundry others of the like straine: for though they be very horrible, yet they are very frequent and vsuall.

3 But for as much as the greatest blasphemies are cōmonly belched out at cards and dice, I wil here alledge a late strange example of a good fellow, who to recom∣pence his losse with cursing and swearing (as the manner is) playd such a tricke, as the like (I perswade my selfe) hath not bene heard of. For being weary with cur∣sing, renouncing, and reneiguing of God, and swearing by all the othes he could deuise; he commanded his man to helpe him, and to hold on this gracious talke, till he had better lucke. This one example (if there were no other) were sufficient

to condemne our Age of greater outrage then all the former. Howbeit they are so plentie, that they are nothing daintie: for as some deuised this new knacke of knauery; so others inuented others, as hereafter shall be shewed.

4 First then whereas our Ancestors did onely impart the honour of God to their men and women Saints (as they terme them,) such hath bene the audacious impietie of the Gnathonicall flatterers of this Age, that they haue made no con∣science to stile Princes with the titles of Gods diuine Attributes, as namely with that of Most sacred Maiestie. And as the heathen stiled their Emperor Diuus Caesar: so haue they styled Emperours and Kings in these dayes. Nay, some are come to this passe, to call a mortall man not onely Our holy Father, but Our God on earth. And (as one vice draweth on another) they haue further applied sundry things spoken of the eternall God in holy writ, to mortall men, and haue honored them with like titles: wherof I could alledge manifold examples, if my occasions would permit: but I will content my selfe for the present with these two, Sub vmbrâ ala∣rum tuarum protege me, or sperabo. And, Non est abbre••iata manus Domini: which I remember I haue often heard thus applied. The last time I heard them, was from a Lawyers mouth, pleading at the barre.

5 Yet they rest not here: for they are come now at the last to apply sundry texts of Scripture to the praise of Iacke and Gill, men and women of all sorts and conditions, tag and rag. And as they haue applied some Scriptures in commenda∣tion of those whom they honored; so haue they applied others to the disgrace and defamation of those whom they maligned: wherein M. Pasquin had a notable fa∣cultie. And verily it is not vnlike, but that this inuention came first from him: and that those who in the raigne of King Francis the first, girded at the Lords and La∣dies of the Court, with quips and taunts borrowed from Scripture, were trained vp in his schoole.

6 But the wickednesse of the damned crue hath bene farre greater: of which sort, this Age hath had and hath many euen at this day. For not so much as po••∣companions, but can apply the Scripture to their drunkennesse, and bealch them out of their filthy mouthes. It is too well knowne how they were wont to say for euery glasse of wine they rippled off▪ C••r mundum crea in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉, & spiritum re∣ctum i••••o••a in viscerib•••• meis. And when they would signifie in their drunken guibbridg••, that some wine was better then other some, and that it was the right; they would say, Hic est, tenete eum. And when there is no more liquor in the pot, your meale-mouthed Monkes vse this Allegoricall speech as wel as their fellowes, Dat•• ••••bis de oleo vestro, quia lamp••des nostrae extinguuntur. And now that I am speaking of Monkes, the Abbot of Iosaphat by Chartres comes to my mind, who was one of the greatest ••pholders of god B••cchus: This Prelate being asked on a time how he could drinke so much, and in what schoole he had learned that libe∣rall science: to shew that he had read, at leastwise had heard some thing of the Scri∣pture, alledged these words out of the Psalmist, P••tr••s ••ostri 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••erunt nobis. But what speake I of drunkards? Not so much as po••kie villaines▪ but would (as they were swearing out the pockes) apply the Scripture to their disease, in saying, 〈…〉〈…〉. But this is yet applied more absurdly▪ ••la∣bit spiritus ••ius▪ & 〈…〉〈…〉. I remember also what one at Paris said▪ when his mother was dead, and he had gotten all her goods into his hands, Quasi nubes plu∣uiae in tempore siccitatis: which he learned (I take it) of some scoffing Skoggins, as honest men as himselfe. And do not good fellows euer & anone make themselues sport with these words of S. Paul, Si quis Episcopatum desiderat, bonum opus desiderat,

in saying, Si quis Episcopatum desiderat bonum, opus desiderat? To be short, they thinke that a ieast is not worth a rush, except it be seasoned with the salt of the san∣ctuary: as the Abbot who speaking of the drie summer, when the grapes were dried vp, and (as it were) rosted with the heate of the Sunne, said, Spiritus vitae erat in rotis. Nay, these wicked blasphemers, and prophane abusers of Scripture, haue not spared their owne Masse. For when one is hanged, they say, Sursùm corda: when a man taketh the cup to drinke, Quia pius est.

7 Hitherto I haue said nothing of those varlets who so notoriously abuse this Scripture, Coelum coeli Domino, terram autē dedit filijs hominū: The heauens of heauens are the Lords, but the earth hath he giuen to the children of men; alledging it to infringe Gods prouidence, whereby he ruleth all things according to his good pleasure: which I omitted not through forgetfulnes, but for that the abuse and profanation thereof, is more auncient then this Age; yet questionlesse the contemners of God, blasphemers of his Sonne, villanizers of his Saints, scorners of his seruice, who do now (as it were) shield and shroud themselues and their Atheisme vnder these words, as vnder Aiax his buckler, are cosin-germaines to those of the damned crue, who in the time of the foresaid Preachers were wont to say, Let God keepe his heauen to himselfe, and let vs alone, and follow our pleasures. Ignorance perhaps gaue the first occasion of this false interpretation, which scoffing Atheists applied after∣wards to their owne purpose: as our auncestors, who erroniously expounding this place in the Psalmist, Cum peruerso peruerteris; through ignorance ioyned with malice, wold haue paralleled it with the French prouerb, Il faut hurler auec les loups. But to returne to those who maliciously prophane the holy word of God, I haue not (I confesse) mentioned the places of Scripture, applied by some to whoredom and lecherie, as hauing spoken of it sufficiently before: where I haue shewed that whereas Menot complained onely of the prophanation of Churches by panders who made their bawdie bagaines in them; we might now take vp a farre more iust and grieuous complaint, in that they make the Scripture their bawd; a thing as full of wickednesse and prodigious diuelish abhomination, as euer was heard and tol∣lerated among Christians: and if I should say ten times more, I should not passe the bounds of truth. But I will leaue it to thy consideration (gentle Reader) how much honester men they were, who during the last ciuill garboiles in France, to anger the aduersaries of the Romish religion, began their play at dice with the say∣ing of the Psalmist, Our helpe standeth in the name of the Lord, who hath made heauen and earth: abusing it of purpose to spite and anger them the more, for that Pro∣testant Preachers were wont to call vpon God in this manner, in the beginning of their Sermons.

8 And this puts me in mind of another blasphemie somewhat differing from the former, in all points suiting that of the Iewes in the Gospell, when in scoffing manner they mocked our Sauiour, and said, He trusteth in God, let him now deliuer him, seeing he loueth him. For the aduersaries of the aduersaries of the Romane re∣ligion gnashing their teeth, as often as they heard the Protestants sing the 50. Psalme: The mightie God, the eternall hath thus spoke, &c. When they thought they had them on the hip, could not containe, but would vpbraid them and say, Where is now this mightie God? Ha sirs, we will make you sing a new song; we wil make you sing, O Lord consider my distresse. We also find this kind of blasphemie in the Prophet Dauid, where he saith:

For why, they pierce my inward parts with pangs to be abhord:

When they crie out with stubburne hearts, where is thy God thy Lord?

And in another place:

Why should the heathen scorners say, where is their God become?

Both which blasphemies are much more tollerable then the former, and that for sundry reasons.

9 Moreouer, we shall find the blasphemies whereby they scoffe and scorne, deride and mock at the worship of God and true religion far more abhominable then the wickedest blasphemies of the prophanest Pagans in the earth. And verily I doubt whether the infernall fiends can adde any thing thereto. And yet there are none more welcome to most courtiers then such companions, as being desirous to be instructed by them, thinking it necessary thus to be qualified, that they may be thought throughly accomplished in court-like behauiour: as if the way for a man to braue it out with flouts and frumpes, were to begin with God? Now blas∣phemers are of two sorts: some are flat Atheists, who by an Antiphrasis will needs be called Deists (forsooth) in spite of all that speake against it: and verily I dare giue my word for them, that they are no hypocrites, but speake as they thinke. O∣thers, notwithstanding the gnawing worme of an accusing conscience, coūterfet themselues to be Atheists. And whereas some Atheists confesse that they are much grieued, because they cannot beleeue that there is a God; these contrarily are halfe mad at themselues, because they cannot obliterate this principle and perswasion out of their minds: and for that their conscience doth checke them when they de∣nie his holy prouidence. The Italian Lord, who leauing his countrey to dwell in France, and died in the warres of a pistel shot, may well be the ring-leader of the dance: for whereas others (now ready to giue vp the ghost) commended them∣selues to God; he desired his friends that came to visit him, that they would com∣mend him to the King, and tell him that he had lost a good seruant. He often ac∣knowledged (as I heard it reported by his owne familiars) that he desired to be∣leeue in God, as others did, but that he could not. And yet for all this his great de∣sire, it was his only delight to belch out such fearfull blasphemies against God and his holy truth, that those of Iulian the Apostate may (in cōparison) seeme to be but small. For (to omit sundry of his other gracious speeches) he was not ashamed to say, that God dealt vniustly when he condemned mankind for a peece of an apple: and that he had learned nothing in the new Testamēt, but that Ioseph was a simple fellow in that he was not iealous of his wife, himself being so old, and she so yong. Thus much for the first kind. Of the second sort of Atheists, who by reason of the sting of conscience wherewith they are so disquieted, are constrained to acknow∣ledge a diuine power and prouidence, we haue sundry examples: for those Cour∣tiers, who in the raigne of the French King Henry the second, said, They beleeued in God, as the King beleeued; but if he beleeued not in him, neither would they: are by their owne confession to be registred in this roll. But where shall we place those vile varlets who shame not to say, They beleeue in the King and the Queene mother, and know none other beleefe? Verily it puts me to a plunge to inuent a name answe∣rable to their nature: I meane a word sufficiently emphatical to expresse their wic∣kednes. But for want of a better they may not vnfitly be called thrise accursed dam∣ned Atheists.

10 I come now to those hel-hounds of the damned crue, who not content to belch out their blasphemies among their mates (companions like themselues)

or in presence of those whom they would gladly anger, by swearing and blasphe∣ming; nor to furnish the table at great feasts and merry meetings with them, (where they passe for currant vnder the name of ieasts and pleasant conceits) do further set them forth in print, that all the world may take notice of them. Who knoweth not that this age hath reuiued Lucian againe, in the person of Francis Ra∣belais, making a mock of all religion in his diuelish discourses? or what a prophane Scoggin Bonauenture des Perriers was in deriding of God? and what pregnant proofes he hath giuen hereof in his worthy worke. The marke (we know) which these varlets aimed at, was outwardly indeed to make as though they would but driue away melancholike dumps, and passe away the time with pleasant discourse. But indeed and truth to insinuate themselues by varietie of ieasts and quips, which they cast forth against the ignorance of our forefathers (which was the cause they suffered themselues to be abused, and as it were led by the nose by superstitious Priests) and by this meanes A ietter des pierres en nostre iardin (as it is in the French prouerbe) that is, to mock and gird euen at Christian religion it selfe. For after di∣ligent perusing of their discourses, it will easily appeare, that it was their maine drift, the onely marke and scope which they aimed at, to teach the Readers of their bookes, to become as honest men as themselues: that is, to beleeue in God, and to be perswaded of his prouidence no otherwise then wicked Lucretius was: that whatsoeuer a man beleeueth, he beleeueth in vaine: that whatsoeuer we reade in Scripture of eternall life, is written for no other end but to busie simple idiots, and to feede them with vaine hope: that all threatnings concerning hell and the last iudgement denounced in the word, are nothing but meere bugs, like those where∣with we terrifie yong children, making them afraid of the fayry, hob gobling, or bul-begger: in a word, that all religions were forged and framed by the braine of man. And I feare me such masters haue but too many schollers at this day, rea∣die to listen to such instructions. For some there be who are not as yet plaine A∣theists, but onely inclining that way, who deale with the knowledge they haue of God, as sicke men do with the licence of Phisitians. For as sicke patients, not∣withstanding they haue resolued to eate and drinke what themselues think good, and not what the Phisitian shall prescribe, importune him to dispence with them against his prescript, for such and such meates, as though it would do them more good or lesse hurt when they haue once obtained such a licence: so is there a ge∣neration of monsters rather then of men, who notwithstanding they haue resol∣ued to go on in their wicked courses, though their consciences checke them neuer so much, yet could wish with al their hearts, they might follow them with consent thereof: and therefore labour by all meanes to extinguish and obliterate all sense and knowledge of God out of their minds, the light whereof doth shew them the leudnes of their liues. And they can make no shorter a cut, nor take an easier course to come to the period of their intended purpose, then to go to schoole to the fore∣said Doctors. To conclude, the bookes which haue bene written by these two worthy writers, and their pue-fellowes, are so many snares or baited hookes layd to catch such simple soules as are not well guarded with the feare of God: being so much the more hard to be espied, by how much they are better sugered ouer with merry conceits, delighting and tickling the eare. And therefore all those that feare to go astray out of the right way wherein God hath set them, must be admo∣nished to beware of such hunters. As for professed Atheists, they are the lesse to be pitied, considering they fall not into such snares at vnawares, but voluntarily in∣tangle themselues therein.

11 But what shall we say of Postel and such like scribling companions? Verily I know not what conceit others may haue of them; for mine owne part (to speake that which I haue often said) since I was acquainted with Postels braine-sicke blas∣phemies, partly from his owne mouth, and partly by his writings, and had seene so many silly soules deluded and bewitched by them: I haue not a little wondered why any man should maruell that Mahomet could win so many countries & king∣domes to his fond fancies, and doting dreames. For is it not much more strange that Will••▪ Postel preaching in the face of the Vniuersitie of Paris (about thirteene yeares ago) that an old beldame (whom he called his mother Ioane) should saue all women, as Christ did all men, should find so many disciples▪ then that Mahomet should make the world beleeue that men onely went to heauen, and not women? If Postel had preached such fooleries, I say not to the citizens of Paris, but to the simplest sots of Auuergne or the rudest Normans: not to learned men, but to silly idiots, which could scarce tell their fingers: not since the trash and trinkets of Po∣pish trumperies were discouered, but whilest the darknesse of ignorance and su∣perstition was more grosse and palpable then that of Aegypt (which a man might haue felt (as it were) with his finger) yet might we well wonder how euer it was possible that such diuelish doctrine should find entertainment. How much more then, that it should not onely be entertained, but highly esteemed, especially in that citie which hath this long time bragged, and doth euen at this present, to be the flower of all France, and the onely paragon for matter of true riches, such as arts and sciences are. But some may here haply reply and say, that though many went to heare him in such multitudes, that for the very throng & presse of people they were in danger to be smothered: yet is it not probable he should haue any disciples or followers, except some of the simpler sort. To which I answer (and that confidently, as knowing it to be a most certaine truth) that he gaue such a re∣lish to his words, that he made many men otherwise learned and wise, to sauour them, who before they had heard him, scorned and derided them as the fon∣dest impietie and foolishest foppery in the world. Further, this wicked wretch not content to vtter these his monstrous blasphemies in priuate to such as resorted to him, hath set them forth in print, and therefore is in the number of those of whom we now speake. Howbeit I cannot well tell whether a man may find in any of his bookes certaine speeches which he vttered in the Realte at Venice in my hea∣ring, and in the hearing of sundry others, viz. that if a man would haue a perfect & absolute religion indeed, he must compound it of Christian religion, Iudaizme, and Turcizme: and that there were many excellent points of doctrine in the Al∣coran, if they were well considered. Who will not now confesse that our age sur∣passeth all the former▪ as wel in blasphemies as in other villanies? (blasphemies I say, not proceeding of ignorance, as in former time, but of a cankred malicious mind against the known truth.) How can this be, may some say? Though the argument in hand will not permit me to giue a reason hereof▪ yet thus much I will say by the way, that it is, because the diuell seeing himselfe more hotly and furiously assaulted now then before, provides himselfe of more furious souldiers to giue the repulse. For whilest blindnesse and ignorance raigned far and wide in the world, and that his former forces were sufficient, he needed no such succour and supply as now he doth, being dayly weakened by the losse of his strongest holds.

12 I proceed to another worshipfull writer, who thinking his pennie as good siluer, and his blasphemies as worthy to be registred as the best, hath set them forth in print: and I shall desire him not to take offence if I presume to name him, see∣ing

himselfe thought it not amisse to set his name to his booke, though full fraught with such fearfull blasphemies: the title whereof is this, The inuincible tower of wo∣mens chastitie, written by Francis de Billon, Secretary; printed at Paris Anno 1555. cum priuilegio Regio. And not content with this flourishing title, he hath set his hand and marke to euery copie, as his verses to the Reader in the beginning of his booke may testifie: a thing (I take it) neuer done by any before. Howbeit his blas∣phemies are not once to be compared with these last spoken of, but with those ra∣ther mentioned in the beginning of this Chapter, where I haue shewed how the audacious impietie of fawning flatterers and pestilent parasites was come to this, to apply the diuine attributes and sundry sentences, spoken of God in holy Scrip∣ture, to mortall men. But I will here set downe his blasphemous words, leauing them to the Readers discretion to place them as they deserue. He therefore inten∣ding to shew that there is an absolute conformitie in all points betweene the Pro∣phets of God (who were pen-men of holy Scripture) and the French Kings Se∣cretaries, saith fol. 239. At and before the comming of the Sonne of God, he ap∣pointed other Secretaries (which may be called his Clearkes, as being chosen by him, or registred in the booke of his diuine prouidence) which in speciall manner were called Prophets, vnder which the name Secretary is comprehended: all of them depending vpon him and his beloued Chancellor, who was then to come, but now is come. And in that roll thus framed in the heauenly mind, they were inrolled and registred vnder the highest maiestie, in the same manner that other Secretaries are registred in the French Kings roll, himselfe being first, and his Chancellor next. And a little after, as Moses is placed in the diuine register in the third place, as pen-man and great Audiancier of Gods word: so my Lord Huraut Secretary and great Audiancier of France is the third in the Kings. And somewhat after; like vnto Ioshuah who succeeded Moses, is the Secre∣tary Orne, who being Lord chiefe Baron of the Exchequer, resembles the Prophet Ioshuah in sundry things. Againe, to Ioshuah succeeded the Prophet and Secretary Samuel, borne of an old and barren woman, long before his natiuitie conse∣crated vnto God; an honest, vpright, and sincere good man, most content with his owne estate, who liued till he was very old: like vnto whom Longuet principall Secretary to the King, and ancientest of them all, is registred in the Kings records, in a higher ranke then any of the rest, as Samuel was in Gods, who as, &c. And be∣ginning afterwards to discourse of seuen other Prophets, he saith, As Esdras was visited by the speciall grace of God: so the mightie Florimond Robertet, aliâs d'Al∣luye, was visited in his bed by Francis the French King his Lord and maister. And straight after he addeth, among the Prophets and pen-men of Scripture, the foure great Prophets are to be numbred, by whom those famous notaries the foure E∣uangelists are figured, viz. Esay or Matthew, Ieremie or Mark, Ezechiel or Luke, Daniel or Iohn, as Gods Secretaries, who seeme to haue had greater employment then the rest; in resemblance of the foure secretaries or notaries of the Kings house otherwise called Maisters of the Requests, sirnamed (if I tell them in order) Bour∣din, Sassi, &c. Afterwards he descendeth to the small Prophets, with whom he compareth the Lords, Neuuille, Courlay, Bohier, &c. And last of all he comes to those who in cōparison may be termed Prophets or Secretary gager••, that is, hired Secre∣taries, as Semeya, Virdei, Elizeus, Ahias, Iehn, &c. to the number of 59. comparing them to the 59. honorable Lords, viz. Babou, Picard, Forget, Gaudart, &c. And win∣ding vp his discourse, he breakes forth into this patheticall exclamation, O most cer∣taine and worthy correspondence, neuer knowne of any mortall man vnto this day. This

is the goodly inuention of our architect of the inuincible tower, by which he thin∣keth he hath playd the man, and wonne the field as we say. Now let the Reader iudge, whether I accused him wrongfully of blasphemy or not. And verily if he would take any counsell, I would aduise him to leaue this diuelish discourse out of his booke in the next impression, lest he wrong and shame many honest men, whom he (perhaps) thinketh he doth greatly grace, and honour thereby. I would further let his mastership vnderstand against the second impression, that there is no such Prophet in the Bible as Virdei: but that vir Dei is (as I may say) the Epi∣thete or sirname of Semeia: as when we say Francis the foole, we meane not two di∣stinct persons, but one and the same man, the word foole seruing onely to describe the said Francis by his proper Epithete.

13 Another kind of blasphemie published in print by these goodly authors, remaines yet behind; farre stranger then the former▪ so that he which wil not grant any of them to be proper and peculiar to this age, cannot but confesse that this a∣grees vnto it quarto modo (as Logicians speake) I meane the manner of translating vsed by Sebastian Castalion in turning the Bible into French. For wheras he should haue sought out the grauest words and phrases fitting so worthy a subiect; it is plaine that he studied for absurd, base and beggerly words, at leastwise such as would rather stir the spleene, and prouoke the Readers to laughter, then giue them light to vnderstand the meaning of the holy Ghost. For example, where S. Iames saith, chap. 2. v. 13. Gloriatur misericordia aduersus iudicium, in stead of translating it word for word (as others haue done) Mercie glories (or insults) ouer iudgement, he turnes it thus, Misericorde fait la figue à iugement, that is, Mercy bids iudgement kisse her taile. Giue me that graue Cato, or sower Heraclytus, who in stead of weigh∣ing o•• pondering this text of so great importance, can keepe his countenance at the first view of this so trim a translation: and considering the meere malice of the translator (who hunted after triuiall words taken from the tauerne, of purpose to expose such sacred mysteries to scorne and derision) will not be offended with such a prophane fellow, if he haue but the least dramme of deuotion or sparke of zeale in his heart. The like he hath done in other places, as who so list to trifle a∣way the time in perusing that worthy worke, shall easily perceiue. Neither hath he onely made his worship merry in vsing tapsterlike termes and phrases, but hath ta∣ken to himselfe more then Poeticall licence in calling her arriere femme, that is, a back-wife (as we say arriere boutique, a back-shop) whom the husband keepeth vnder his wiues nose, whom the Latins call pellex (borrowing it from the Greek tongue, as the Grecians haue done from the Hebrew) and for Prepuce vsing this fine compound * 1.7 Auant-peau, fore-skin: for circumcised, ••ongné, that is chipped or pared off. For Incircumcised, Empellé, whole skinned: and making God all one with my Lord of Rocheford. In a word, there is not so much as Faire carous, to drinke a ca∣rouse, which he hath not vsed in this translation. Now this new deuise hath the di∣uell inuented in these dayes, to infringe the authoritie of the Scripture: but that God of his goodnesse tooke order for it betime, in causing this trimme translator (of whom there was once great hope) to condemne himselfe with his owne mouth, and to let the world see with what spirit he was transported. Now before I come to the second thing that I propounded to speake of in this Chapter, I will briefly satisfie such as may haply think it strange, I should so far stretch & straine the word blasphemy: the which I did, for that the Greek word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (according to his true Etymology) signifies to blast or blemish hinder or hurt a mans good name (as if a man should say 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 being the word which I haue tran∣slated

to hurt) and so is commonly taken in prophane authors: albeit in holy Scri∣pture, and the commentaries of the auncient Fathers, to blasphemè, is to speake any thing derogatory to the honour and glory of the highest Maiestie. Now, if treason committed against a King (who is but a mortall man, and whose breath is in his nostrils) deserue death: doubtlesse blasphemie and treason committed against the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the immortall and the eternal God, must needs deserue eternall death.

14 The next thing that we are to intreate of, is of cursing or imprecations. And as I haue not trifled away the time in reckoning vp the sundry sorts of impre∣cations and curses vsed at this day (a thing both tedious and odious to those that haue but the least graine of grace or godlinesse:) so neither will I busie my selfe in numbering vp those triuiall and common imprecations which haue no tacke in them, to satisfie the furie and rage of many ruffians, except they be euer coining of new. It shall suffice to shew, that as French-men haue borrowed certaine set formes of brauing and bearding their betters from Italians (thinking (belike) their owne country too barren of this herbe grace:) so haue they not bene ashamed to borrow of them formes of cursing and imprecations, as when they say, Te vienne le chancre. Albeit in most places of Italy, Te venga'l cancaro: and at Venice, Te ven∣ga la ghiandussa; Te venga'l mal di San Lazaro, are accounted but small and pettie imprecations. And these put me in mind of a very pleasant storie seruing fitly to exemplifie the matter in hand. A tayler of Florence hauing worshipped the image of S. Iohn Baptist in the Church of S. Michael Berteldi, very deuoutly for a long time; kneeling on a time before it early in the morning, after he had pattered ouer his ordinary prayers, he began in this sort, Glorioso Santo Giouanni benedetto, io ti priego che, &c. that is, Glorious and blessed S. Iohn, I beseech thee grant me these two requests: Tell me whether my wife euer played false with me? and what shal become of my sonne? This was the prayer of that deuout tayler. Now here it is to be noted, that a yong fellow Cleark of the parish (who had sundry times obserued him kneeling and praying in this sort, desirous to discouer this secret, and to know what spee∣ches he vsed to the Image) hid himselfe behind the Altar where the Image stood, that so he might heare the praier which he made. He then answering in the person of S. Iohn Baptist, said, Sappi charissimo sigliuolo, &c. Know my deare sonne, that for the deuotion and reuerence thou hast borne me these many yeares, thou shalt be heard: Come againe to morrow morning, and thou shalt haue a certaine answer. For this time depart in peace. The tayler exceeding glad of this answer, went home, and failed not to come the next morning at the time appointed: not forgetting after he had mum∣bled ouer his Matins, and done his deuotions, to put Saint Iohn in mind of his pro∣mise, saying, D••lcissimo Santo Giouanni, io ti priego che mi obserua la promessa: that is, Sweet Saint Iohn, I pray thee keepe touch with me, and performe thy promise. Where∣unto the Sexten (who missed not to come againe to make an end of his sport) an∣swered in the person of S. Iohn, Seruo & amico mio, sappi cheltuo figliuolo sara im∣piceato presto, & la tua donna ha fatto fallo con piu di vno: that is, My good seruant and friend, be it knowne vnto thee that thy sonne shall shortly be hanged, and that thy wife hath hornified thee more then once. The tailer hearing this, rose vp, and departed, as mute as a fish, but as angry as a waspe: and when he was come to the midst of the Church, turned backe, and neither kneeling downe, nor vsing accustomed reue∣rence, nay not so much as vailing his bonnet, began in this sort, What S. Iohn art thou? The Sexten answered, I am thy good S. Iohn Baptist. Whereupon he could not refraine, but cursed him with the foresaid curse, which put me in mind of this

storie: telling him withall, that it was not of late that he had had a wicked tongue, and that therefore Herod cut off his head. But I will here alledge his owne words, not altering so much as the Orthography: Sia col malanna & con la mala Pasqua che Dio te dia. Tu nō dicesti mai altro che male, & per la tua pessima lingua ti fu eglitagliat•• el capo da Herode. And straight after: So che tu non hai detto el vero di cosa to ha t'habi domandata: io sono venuto qui ad adorarti da vinticinque anni, o piu, non ti ho mai dato impaccio alcuno: mai io ti prometto che mai piu ci ritornero à vederti. Which historie (recorded by the Lord Piero di Cosmo di Medici) I was the more willing here to relate, to shew how these silly soules (who are euen blind and brutish in their su∣perstitions) vse this holy language in reuenging themselues of the Saints as well as of others. We in France haue certaine curses proper and peculiar to our lan∣guage, as Italians and other countries haue to theirs. For this curse vsed by the foresaid Preachers, Ad omnes diabolos: Ad triginta mille diabolos, &c. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is a kind of copper Latin cast in the mould of the French phrase: for French-men are wont to heape vp diuels by many thousand cart lodes together, as when they say, Ie le donne à trente mille chartees de Diables, ou quarante: Let thirtie or fortie thousand cart loades of diuels take him. And here consider what long custome can do: for Michael Me∣not (one of the foresaid Preachers) doth father this phrase vpon Saint Paul. His words are these, fol. 129. Saint Paul hearing that a wicked wretch had committed fornication, said presently, I giue him ouer to all the diuels in hell. Sanctus Pau∣lus audiens quòd quidam miserrimus fornicatus fuerat, slatim dixit, Et eum do ad om∣nes diabolos: which is yet somewhat more tollerable then that which he recordeth of one of the two harlots which came to pleade before King Salomon, that she should sweare by her faith, fol. 47. Altera superbè respondit, dicens Mentiris; est meus quem teneo; quaere tuum vbi volueris: & sic in illa camera verberabant se mutuò. Dixit altera, tu non habebis per fidem meam, nec tu, &c. Et sic venerunt ad Regem Salomonē, &c. By this the Reader may see whether I had not iust cause to say, that that which he fathered vpon S. Paul was more tollerable, seeing it is only false in forma; wheras this is false both in forma and in materia.

15 Now as the imprecations wherewith men are wont to curse one another, are more vsuall at this day then euer they were in former time; so these which they vse in cursing themselues, are no lesse frequent: as when they bequeath them∣selues to the diuell (some adde bodie and soule, guts and all;) or when they say, I would I might neuer come in heauen, &c. which puts me in mind of that which I obserued once at Venice, how the election of Officers being made by plura∣litie of voices (giuen by casting of bullets, as the manner is,) some of the compe∣titors being elected, and some reiected; the custome is, that all of them, euen those also that are disappointed and frustrate of their fore-framed expectation, thank the gentlemen as they come forth: who to keepe corresponce with them, besprinkle them with Court holy water, and tell them one after another, that they are very sory it was not their good hap to be elected to such or such an office, and that it was not their fault. And not contenting themselues with these simple insinuations and protestations, one vseth this imprecation, another that: one saith, Se Dio me gardi st'almi. Another, Se Dio me garenti la mia moglie. A third, Se Dio me garenti miei filroli. A fourth, Se Dio me gardi st••occi. A fifth, Se no, che siae appicato per la g••la. A sixt, Se no, che me vegna il cancaro. But with what conscience most of them curse themselues in this sort, I make them their owne iudges. For seeing that some of the competitors were elected, and some not; certaine it is that most voices were for them, and not for the other: whereas if we may iudge by their protestations

which they bind with such fearfull imprecations, we must needs say that they gaue with both. But leauing the resolution of this question to some Oedipus, let vs call to mind that which hath bene said, viz. that custome can do much. For doubtlesse long custome in euill, takes away the sence of euill in whole or in part: which la∣mentable experience proues too true, especially in these dayes, wherein men take pleasure in training vp of youth (not yet of yeares to discerne betweene good and euill) and in teaching them to sweare, blaspheme, and curse after the Court fashion.

16 There remaineth yet another kind of cursing a mans selfe, as horrible in it owne nature, as it is common in the Court: I would I might lie with such a La∣die or such a Gentlewoman vpon paine of damnation. By which we may perceiue, that as this age is paramount to all the former in all sorts of sinnes: so Princes Courts as farre exceed all other places: and yet (that I may not depriue Italians of their due praise) it is lesse common in France and other countries of Christendome, then in Italy.

CHAP. XV. Of thefts and robberies committed at this day.

BEfore I enter discourse of thefts and robberies, I am to intreate thee (gentle Reader) to giue me leaue to premise this short preface; that if this Age do so far excel and go beyond the former in other knacks of knauery: it doth it much more in this of cunning conueyance. For I dare boldly affirme, that if a man would make a narrow search into the theeuish practises, filchings and robberies (at leastwise into the dealings of those good fellowes who take without leaue) so common and rise at this day; he should find that there are (almost) as many sundry sorts of notorious thefts, as in old time there were theeues. The reason hereof is euident, for that stealing of all other vices requireth most wit, wherein this age farre excels the former (if we may iudge of the tree by his fruits:) whence it is that the Lacedemonians were per∣mitted to steale by their lawes, so they were not taken in the fact. Now this quick and nimble wit applieth it selfe rather to euill then to good, and that much more at this day (if all things be equally considered) then in former time: albeit this complaint was taken vp long ago:

Vnde habeat quarit nemo, sed oportet habere.

That is,

Needs must be had, but whence none list enquire.

And it is an old and auncient saying,

Lucri bonus odor ex re qualibet.

That is,

Gaine hath a good fauour, howsoeuer gotten.

By which we may perceiue, that men neuer wanted will to haue. But men at this day, as they haue a better will, so haue they greater skil. For as they haue bin more vehemently inflamed with a desire of gaine, so haue they inuented more effectual meanes for the compassing thereof; setting downe this as a necessary principle to be holden in the first place, that he that would be rich must turne his backe to God: which they can well enough put in practise when occasion serues. Besides, they

haue profited by all their predecessors inuentions, and therein haue employed the greatest cunning and skill they haue. No maruell therfore if there haue bene some shifters in all ages, who haue followed the occupatiō; sith there was neuer yet man to be found but sought out some means to liue: so that many, when all other failed, haue liued vpon the fee-simple of their wits, and betaken themselues to this easie occupation, as to their last refuge. But how is it (may some say) that great theeues should euer escape, & pettie theeues go to the pot? or rather (according to the old saying) that the greater should hang the lesse? The question (me thinks) is easily an∣swered, if we consider that a petty pilfere•• hath not wherewith to stop his accusers mouth: wheras great ones are neuer without their sleeues ful of gags. For I remem∣ber that Pinatel (who was first executed by order of law in the person of his picture (if I may so speake) and after in his owne person) told me and certaine others at Genoua (whither he was fled) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that he doubted not but to reconcile himselfe to the King againe, by meanes of the high Sheriffes wife (who had obtained the con∣fiscation of his goods) in that he had a goodly present, wherewith to bribe her (be∣sides the value of the confiscation) and yet remaine rich all his life after. Not∣withstanding I denie not but that great theeues are now and then brought to the gallowes as well as pettie theeues: but this hard hap commonly befals those vn∣thrifts, who hauing brought their twelue-pence to nine-pence, and their nine-pence to nothing; haue not wherwith they may either stop the mouthes, or grease the fists of their accusers. For many (we know) who clime too hastily, fall as so∣dainly, those especially who haue to deale with Princes treasures, which are (as French-men speake) suiet à la pince, that is, easie to be purloined. Whereupon King Lewis the eleuenth vsed a very pleasant conceit: for looking vpon a peece of tapistrie, wherein a certaine noble man (who from a very meane Cleark of the Ex∣chequer, was aduanced to great place, euen to be Lord Treasurer of France) had pourtraited the steps and degrees whereby he had ascended from the bottome of basenesse to the height of honour, himselfe represented sitting on the top of For∣tunes wheele; told him he might do well to fasten it with a good strong naile, for feare lest turning about, it brought him to his former estate again: which was truly prophesied of him, as the euent shewed not long after. And verily not onely great Lords who are aduanced to such high honors; but generally all Courtiers, and such as haue any dealing in Princes affaires, ought alwayes to remember the similitude vsed by Polybius, who cōpareth Courtiers to counters. For as they stand sometime for ten, sometime for an hundred, sometime for a thousand, and some∣times againe for one onely, as it pleaseth the Auditor to place them: so Courtiers (as the toy takes Princes in the head) are honored or disgraced, aduanced or de∣based in a moment. And this they haue as proper and peculiar vnto them, that when they haue vsed them as sponges to drinke what iuice they can from the poore people, they take pleasure afterwards to wring them out into their owne cisternes. But to returne to the distinction of great and pettie theeues. It is a thing very remarkable, and proper to this age (at leastwise in this respect, that it is more practised) that greeat theeues rob the lesse, as great fishes deuoure the yong frie. But my purpose is here onely to speake of pettie theeues, I meane such as commit qualified robberies, and whom the executioner graceth by putting a halter about their neckes (where there is any face or forme of iustice) which afterwards serueth them in stead of a ruffe.

2 To begin therefore with pilferers and their pettie larcenie, see a strange de∣uice now lately inuented, how since that Italians with their iuggling trickes

frequented France, there haue bene many cut-purses found disguised like gentle∣men; yea some who haue bin hanged with their chains of gold about their necks: which I remember I heard reported of him whom King Francis the first hanged for iugling away the Duke of Neuers purse in his presence. And certaine it is, that their iergon whereby they maintaine themselues, and keepe corresponcy each with other, was neuer in such perfection: a prerogatiue which they haue aboue the grea∣test Princes in the world, who because they cannot cante, are euer deuising new characters: which notwithstanding are often descried euen by those from whom they labour to conceale them: whereas these noble cut-purses (neuer busying themselues so much) haue so enriched their canting and gibbridge (especially now of late) and are so expert therein, that they can chat and chaffer one with another, without feare of being descried by any, saue those of their owne profession. As for sleights and subtilties, euen Villon himselfe (who read a publike lecture to those of his time) might learne more of the craft (I meane moe feates of filchery and cunning conueyance) of the meanest scholler in his schoole, then euer he knew in all his life: yet I denie not but that he was a notable expert fellow in his profes∣sion, and of a ready wit: for it becometh not a citizen of Paris to speake otherwise of his worship. But since our cut-purses (or snatch-purses) haunted these iuggling Gipsies (the Italians) and learned their trickes of cunning conueynance, we must needs confesse that there haue bene stranger feates of agilitie seene, then euer be∣fore. I take the word cut purses in a more generall acception then the proper signi∣fication will permit; namely for all such good fellowes as can play so well at fast and loose, with their fine feates of passe and repasse, that without offering a man the least violence in the world, they can iuggle the mony out of his purse, and make it passe into their owne. For example, a French-man newly arriued at Venice (a∣bout thirteene yeares ago) lodging in an Inne called the Sturgeon, was told by an Italian (who lay in the same house) that it was not safe for a man in that country to shew his mony: and therefore counselled him that if at any time he did weigh his gold, or tell any mony, he should not do it openly as he was accustomed, but should locke himselfe in his chamber. The French-man taking this aduertisement as proceeding from a simple honest meaning, thanked him heartily, and therupon tooke acquaintance of him. The Italian (not long after) hauing espied fit oportu∣nitie, came vnto him, and told him that if he wold change French crownes for Pi∣stolets, he wold gladly exchange with him: and whereas (quoth he) your crownes will go here but for single Pistolets, I will giue you something ouer and aboue in exchange. The French-man answering, that it was the least courtesie he could shew him: he desired him to remember what he told him the other day, concer∣ning the close keeping of his mony; wherefore (quoth he) I thinke it not amisse if we take a paire of oares, and carrying a paire of ballances with vs, row vp and downe the great channell, and there weigh our crownes. The French-man answe∣red, that he was ready to do what he thought good. The next day therefore they tooke a paire of oares, where when the Italian had weighed the French-mans crownes (the better to colour his knauery) he put them in his purse and pocketed them vp: and making as though he had bene seeking for his Pistolets which he was to giue in exchange, he caused the waterman (to whom he had formerly giuen the watchword) to land his boate. And because he landed in a place where there were many short and narrow lanes on either side, the French-man lost my gentle∣man in a trice: neither hath he yet (I suppose) heard any newes of him, nor of his hundred crownes. My self came to the Inne three or foure daies after that pageant

was played. Another marking a French-man putting his purse into his bosome, and after taking a paire of oares to crosse the water (an ordinary thing at Venice) leaped in after him with such violence that he caused the boate to leane so much on the one side, that the French-man fel into the water: where leaping in presently after, he pulled him into the boate againe; yet not without pulling his purse out of his bosome by the way; which he did so nimbly, that the partie perceiued it not, till it was past recouery: and so the Italian departed with a thousand thanks, and a purse to put them in. Another vsed more speed, for faining that a Scorpion was gotten into his backe, he intreated another Italian to looke if he could espie it; in the meane time iuggling his purse out of his pocket. And here I may not omit a like tricke of conueyance which another Italian played with a French gentleman newly come into Italy with Odet de Selue, Embassadour for the French King at Ve∣nice: for as he was in his Inne, looking vpon two cheating Italians playing at cards (who were partners, as appeared afterward) one of them faining that he had lost all his mony, and had nothing left but certaine peeces of gold, at which his fellow refused to throw, because they were not weight; he intreated the French-man to lend him a few crownes for them: who had no sooner drawne his purse, but they scattered all his mony; and marking on which side of the table it fell, blew out the candle. We might well admit into this societie a Sergeant of Paris (whose goods had bene distrained and sold to the very straw of his bed) who going by a Gold∣smiths shop, cast sand in his eyes, and hauing so done, put as much gold into his boxe as he thought good. But to returne to our cunning cut-purses: how actiue & nimble (may we thinke) were they which cut fortie or fiftie before they could be descried? What say I forty or fiftie? Nay I haue heard of one of this theeuish trade borne at Bourges, chiefe Clearke to an Atturney of the Parliament, called Dennis Gron, in whose trunke (after he had bin taken and conuicted of the fact) were found fourescore purses, and about three thousand crownes in gold: who (doubt∣lesse) would haue obtained his pardon if his cause had bene tried by the lawes of the Lacedemonians, which permitted theft (the better to inure their people to nimblenesse and actiuitie) so they were not taken in the fact: which (as Xenophon sheweth) stood with good reason: for no man ought to follow a trade, wherein he hath no skill. Now these bunglers who are taken with the manner, shew that they are not their crafts masters, in going no handsomlier to worke then a Beare when the picks muskles. Which a Duke of Burgundie well obserued (a man naturally gi∣uen to this lurching legerdemai••e, which he practised more of wantonnesse then for any want, as knowing himselfe to haue a notable filching facultie, and an an∣swerable dexteritie in cleanly conueyance; the rather for that by this meanes he was better acquainted with such companions) espying one of these light fingerd gentlemen as he was iuggling away a siluer goblet at a great feast, and holding his peace for the present, sent for him shortly after, and told him roundly of it in this sort: Sirra, you may thank God that my steward saw you not pocket vp my plate; for I can assure you he would haue hanged you all but the head. What? will you follow a trade to which you were neuer bound prentise, and wherein you haue no skill? Well, you shall haue it vpon condition you wil giue ouer the occupation, and practise it no more vpon paine of death, sith you go so grosly to worke. By which we see how this Prince concurres in opinion with the Lacedemonians. But why (may some say) should we thinke the Lacedemonians would haue pardoned him, considering they held such as were descried and taken in the fact, vnskilfull in the trade, and consequently vnfit to follow it? Doubtlesse they would haue pardo∣ned

him for his great dexteritie in cutting the 80. purses, in that he was taken but with the 81. For it fared not with him as with those filching cōpaniōs (born vnder the vnlucky planet Mercury) who being pardoned the first offence, fall into it again and againe. Which hard hap befell one Simon Dagobert (the Kings Atturneys son in Yssoudun) who hauing plaid the filching fellow a long time, and admonished to keepe himselfe true, lest in the end he found the gibbet a Iew; was taken at the last, and condemned to the gallowes: where as he was led to the place of executiō, the duke of Neuers chanced to passe by, and mediated to the King for him, because he heard him spout a little Latin; which (albeit it was not vnderstood) made him and the rest beleeue that he was a man fit for some great emploiment. And as if he had bin so indeed, the King hauing pardoned him, sent him with one Roberual into the new found land: in which voyage he verified that which Horace saith, * 1.8 Coelum non animū mutant, qui trans mare currunt. For after his coming thither, he fell to his old trade of nimming more freely then euer before. So that being taken the second time, he went the way which before he had missed. And I perswade my selfe he would not haue escaped better cheape, either with the Lacedaemonians or with the foresaid Prince, sith (in all probabilitie) he had bene often taken with the manner before; it being almost impossible, that committing thefts in this sort by the do∣zen, he should euer go closely and artificially to worke. Howbeit if euer there were any, in whom we might see what a nature prone to theft may do, him we haue as a liuely mirror thereof. For I heard it credibly reported by his owne citizen (a man of good worth) that notwithstanding he had dealt with him sundry times to re∣claime him, and made meanes to get him out of prison, yet the knaue to requite his kindnesse (as he protested to me) stole from him a new gowne, (besides other ap∣parell) wherewith he was taken, hauing it vpon his backe: and another also vnder it, which he had stolne elsewhere: as also with three shirts which he had on. The like he had done not long before, in stealing a gentlemans veluet cassocke, who had kindly entertained and lodged him. But the most notable theft that euer he committed in this kind, was in stealing a bridegroomes new apparell (the Kings Atturneys brother of Poitiers) and his brides: for which he thought he might wel aduenture hanging, considering they were for the most part all of cleane silke. Which cunning conueyance of his, is the more to be wondered at, in that he was of necessitie to come and go sixe or seuen times (at the least) before he could con∣uey them away; which he did very slily, carying them into his lodging in the Nū∣nery of S. Crosses in Poytiers; where he remained when they came to call him co∣ram, for that they suspected none but him. But the slie merchant looking through the window, and espying the Sergeants comming to apprehend him, conueyed himselfe away, after he had locked and barred all the doores. Where they breaking into his lodging, found beside the foresaid apparel, about forty paire of shoes of all sizes, with a number of breeches, and a great quantity of cut cloth, and some whole peeces, as also a pretie library of bookes, which he had stolne at sundry times from schollers. Moreouer, his manner was to deale worse with his hostisses then with his hosts; for whereas he stole nothing from his hosts but their apparell, he tooke from these dames their goodliest relikes in kind requitall of their curtesies. Yet the finest feate that euer he playd, was the theft he committed in the prison, where he was cast for the like offence: for being not able to containe himselfe, and to hold his fingers till he was set at liberty, he stole the Iaylers cloake whilest he was in the prison, and sold it to a good fellow, letting it downe through the trellis of the pri∣son window, looking into the streete. Which verifies my former assertion, what

a nature prone to theft may in time come vnto, viz. to grow to such a degree of impudencie as to steale in the very prison, where felons and other malefactors a∣wait their dismall doome, and from no meaner man then the Iayler himselfe. But I do the lesse wonder hereat, in that my selfe haue seene cut-purses at Paris rifling mens pockets, and iugling away their purses at the very gallowes, and that hard by a cut-purse ready to be executed.

3 I wil now dismisse this arch-theefe Dagobert: and as I haue alledged exam∣ples of those who haue pardoned theeues conuicted of the fact, and suffered them to go quietly away, and peaceably to enioy their pilfer and pray; so I will here re∣cord one to the contrary, of a gentleman who punished a theefe with his owne hands, yet so as it brought him to a pecke of troubles. For feeling a good fellow cutting his purse, as he was looking vpon the King playing at tennis (the very same day that the now deceased Iohn d•• Bell••y was installed Bishop of Paris) and suffe∣ring him to do his pleasure, dissembling the matter as though he had felt nothing; yet in the end, not content to make him restore his purse, he further cut off his eare. But it repented him (poore gentleman) not long after, not for that he cried quittance with him, but for handling him in that sort: for if he had but stabbed him, he had neuer (questionlesse) bene troubled; but because he cut off his eare, the hangman of Paris commenced suite against him for incroching vpon his of∣fice.

4 But to returne to our subtill sleights, more common and frequent at this day they euer they were, and that in all manner of thefts. Could a man desire to heare of a more cunning conueyance then that which was played at Paris about sixteen yeares ago, by one who kept his countenance so well, that he caused the owner of the featherbed which he was about to steale, viz. one Guerrier Proctor of the court of Parliament dwelling in S. Bennets cloister, to help him vp with it. But I wil here relate two felonious facts committed by a theefe, which are nothing inferior, but rather farre exceeding any of the former. A certaine good fellow being desirous to haue his neighbours cow, rose very early in the morning before day, and coming to the house where the cow stood, draue her out (making as though he had r••n af∣ter her.) His neighbour waking at the noise, and looking through the window: neighbour (quoth the theefe) come and helpe me to take my cow which is runne into your yard, your doore being carelesly left open. His neighbour hauing hol∣pen him, he perswaded him to go along with him to the market (for if he had staid at home, his theft would haue bene discouered) and as they went together vpon the way, when the day began to dawne, the poore man knew his cow, and said, Neighbour, this cow is much like mine. It is very true (quoth he) and therefore I go to sell her, because our wiues contend about them euery night, not knowing which to take. Thus continuing their talke, they came to the market place; where the theefe fearing he should be descried, fained that he had some businesse in the towne, and thereupon desired his neighbour to sell her in the meane time as deare as he could, promising to giue him the wine. His neighbour therefore sold her, and brought him the mony; whereupon they went straight to the taueuerne accor∣ding to promise. Now after that they had made pretty good cheere, the thiefe conueyed himself away, leauing his neighbor in pawne for the shot. From thence he went to Paris, and being on a time in the market place, where many asses were tyed (as the custome is) to hookes fastened in the wall; seeing all places taken vp, he made choice of the fairest asse, got vpon his backe, and riding through the mar∣ket place, sold him very deare to a stranger: who finding no other roome emptie

saue that whence the asse was taken, tyed him there againe. Whereupon when the true owner (from whom he was stolen) would haue loosed him, and led him away, there arose such a hot bickering betwixt him and the stranger who had bought him, that they fell together by the eares. Now the theefe, (who had sold the asse) being in the throng, and seeing all this sport, and namely how the buyer was throwne downe and well beaten, could not forbeare saying, Curry me, currie me well this stealer of asses, and spare him not. Which when the poore man, who was in that pitifull plight (desiring nothing more then to heare of him that had sold him the asse) heard, and knowing him by his voice; he cried out, Thats he, thats he that sold me the asse: Wherupō my gentleman was apprehended, and (all the fore∣said knaueries being verified by his owne confession) was executed, as he well de∣serued. Hence we may learne these two things, first, what great wits, and how full of subtilties and sleightes this Age affoordeth. Secondly, what punishments befal wicked men through the iust iudgement of God, and how he taketh vengeance on them when the magistrate is at a losse, and destitute of all meanes whereby he might find and firret them out: nay how he worketh and bringeth things so about by the hand of his prouidence, that guiltie malefactors like fluttering gnats burne themselues (as it were) in the candle. I confesse indeed, there are not many such subtil theeues as this to be found in a country. But many there are, whose mouthes are their owne accusers, and who (as we say) put the rope about their owne necks, as they best know who by their places are to giue iudgement; who if they be any thing wary and wise, worke so by their interrogatories, that they make these gal∣lants (how good a face soeuer they set vpon the matter) so to faulter and fall foule with themselues, that in the end they cut their owne throates, and sacrifice them∣selues to their owne shame.

5 And seeing there is nothing more worthy a Christian mans meditation then such iudgements of God, I hope it will not be vngratefull to the Reader if I here digresse a little, and alledge two other examples; the one moderne, the other ancient: both of them suting with the former, and exemplifying that which hath bene said. Erasmus therefore reporteth, that a theefe hauing broken into a house in London, where he lodged, and entered in through the roofe, to see if he could meet with some good boone, made such a noise, that he caused all the neighbours to flocke thither; which when he perceiued, he thrust himselfe amidst the throng, as though he had bene one of the company that sought for the varlet; and by this meanes kept himselfe vnknowne. Not long after, perceiuing that the vprore was past, and that they looked no more for the knaue (supposing he had escaped) he went forth, nothing mistrusting he should haue bin descried. But the blab, not able to hold his tongue, bewrayed himselfe, and so brought his necke within the hal∣ter: for as he was going out at the doore, meeting many talking of the theefe, and cursing of him, he cursed him likewise, affirming that he had made him lose his hat. Where note, that whilest the rascall laboured to saue himselfe, running now here, now there, his hat fell off his head, which they kept, hoping thereby to discouer him. They then hearing him say that he had lost his hat, began to suspect him, and vpon suspition apprehended him: who after he had confessed the fact was han∣ged. Many like stories are recorded in prophane writers, but (sith I promised only one other) I will content my selfe with that wherewith Erasmus hath paralleled the former. Plutarch then writeth that a certain temple dedicated to Pallas (in the citie of the Lacedaemonians) hauing bene robbed, there was an emptie bottle foūd, which made all the people to wōder exceedingly; for no man could imagine what

the theeues should do therewith. At the last, one in the companie seeing them all in such an amazement, If you will heare me (quoth he) I wil tell you what I con∣iecture, I imagine that the theeues being ready to execute their enterprise, dranke some Aconite (a kind of deadly poison) and caried wine with them in this bottle, that if they brought their purpose to passe, they might preserue themselues from the danger of the poison by the wine; and that if they were descried, it might put them to a more gentle death, then the Iudges would haue inflicted vpon them. They hearing him render so sensible a reason, and perceiuing that he spake not as one that did coniecture, but as being wel acquainted with the businesse, began to question with him, one after another in this sort: who are you Sir that can con∣iecture so well? where learned you the art of diuination? what acquaintance haue you in this citie? In the end they pressed him so much, and vrged him so farre by their interrogatories, that they made him confesse that he was guiltie of the fact, and one of the theeues. Now as there are sundry examples of the like prouidence of God in detecting of theeues, so are there also of murtherers, as hereafter shal be declared.

6 But to returne to theeuish sleights: for, alledging out of Erasmus de lin∣gua, the example of an English theefe, I remembred other stories which he hath elsewhere of the tricks of these tradesmen; out of which I will onely pick out such as I iudge most notorious: I meane such as were performed with greater subtilty, dexteritie and sleight. And I wil begin with a story, cosin-germaine to that which I lately recorded of the theefe who played his part so well, that he caused the ow∣ner of the featherbed which he was about to steale, to helpe him vp with it: dis∣pensing for this once with my former promise, in making a medley of secular mens vertues with Church-mens. For the fine feate which I am about to relate, was plaid by a priest of Louaine, called Antonie, who hauing bidden two good fel∣lowes to dinner (whom he met by chance in the street) and vnderstanding at his coming home, that there was not a morsell of meate in the house (and knew too well that he had neuer a penie in his purse) he deuised this sleight, that he might keepe touch with his guests: he went into his neighbours house, with whom he was very inward, and the kitchin maide being absent, stole thence a brazen pot wherein the meate was boiling, and caried it home vnder his gowne, commaun∣ding his maid to powre out the meate and the broth into an earthen pot: and ha∣uing caused her to scoure it, he sent it backe to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 againe, requesting him to lend him a certaine summe of mony, and to take the pot in pawne. The messen∣ger brought good newes to Sir Antonie, viz. a peece of money that came in pud∣ding time to furnish the table, and a short scrole, by which the creditor acknow∣ledged that he had receiued a brasse pot in pawne vpon the summe which he had lent him. But being ready to go to dinner, and missing one of the pots, he began to chide and take on, so that all the house was in an vproare; the kitchin maid prote∣sting that she neuer saw it after Sir Antonie was there. Now albeit they made con∣science to suspect him for such a fact, yet in the end they went to his house to see whether they could find it: and because they could heare no newes of it, they as∣ked him bluntly for it. He answered that he knew of no such thing. But when they laid it to his charge, and auouched to his face that he had stolen it, seeing none came into the house but he only: he made this answer, True it is indeed, I borowed a pot, but I sent it backe to the owner again. Which when the creditor denied: See my maisters (said sir Antonie) there is no trusting of men now a daies without a bil of their hand; he would straight haue layd it to my charge, had I not had his hand

and seale to the contrary; whereupon he shewed the scrole which the boy had brought him. So that the creditor was well mocked for his labour throughout all Louaine, it being blazed abroad, that such a man had lent a summe of money vpon a pawne that was his owne.

7 After this theeuish tricke playd by a priest, it is good reason that we giue eare to another done vnto a Priest, to requite the former. A good fellow in Antwerpe hauing marked a Priest that caried a purse by his girdle, which (as he supposed) was sore troubled with a timpanie; after low and humble obeisance, told him that he was intreated by the Curate of their parish to buy him a Cope, and because sir (quoth he) you are iust of his height, I would desire you to go with me to a mer∣chants shop to trie one: for I perswade my selfe, if it fit you, it will fit him. The Priest easily condescending to his request, went with him to a shop where these Copes were sold: where hauing tried one, the merchant affirmed that it was as fit as if it had bene made for him. The knauish companion watching oportunitie to shew them a cast of his office, after he had well viewed M. Priest on euery side, told him that it had one fault, viz. that it was shorter before then behind. Nay (quoth the merchāt) the fault is not in the cope, but in this great purse which beares it out, and makes it seeme so. The Priest therfore layd his purse aside: which done, they viewed him round the second time. In the meane while, this conicatcher (to make an end of his sport) whilest the Priest had his backe turned, nimbly snatched vp the purse, and shewed them a faire paire of heeles. Whereupon he cried out, Stop the theefe, stop the theefe: the merchant crying as fast, Stop the Priest: and the theefe, Stop the mad Priest, (for the people seeing him runne in this strange habite, supposed he had bin mad indeed.) But whilest the Priest and the merchant wran∣gled together, the theefe escaped.

8 There is yet another story recorded by the same author, not much vnlike the former for nimblenesse and good footmanship, albeit it come farre short of it in acutenesse and quicknes of wit; being answerable to the country from whence it came, which breeds no great wits, except perchance by a miracle. For this page∣ant was plaid by a Hollander at Leyden. This good fellow walking through the ci∣tie, w••nt into a shoomakers shop: where the shoomaker asked him what he would; and perceiuing that he cast his eye vpon a paire of * 1.9 bootes which hung hard by, demaunded of him whether he would haue a paire or not: he answering that he would. The shoomaker ma•••• choise of such a paire as he thought would fit him best, and pulled them on; and hauing so done, he willed him to try a paire of * 1.10 shoes, which he said were as fit for him as the bootes. These things thus passed ouer, the fellow in stead of agreeing of the price, & paying the shoomaker, began to question with him merrily in this sort, Tell me in good earnest, did neuer any man thus fit∣ted for the race as I am, runne away, and pay nothing? Neuer (said the shoomaker). But if perchance (quoth he) a man should runne away, what wouldst thou do? I would run after him (quoth he). Doest thou speake in good earnest (quoth he)? Yes marry do I (said the shoomaker) and I would do it indeed. We must trie a conclusion (said the other,) I will begin the course, come on therfore follow me: and forthwith ranne away as fast as he could driue; and the shoomaker after, cry∣ing, Stay the theefe, stay the theefe. The fellow seeing them come thicke and three∣fold out of their houses, fearing lest some would haue laid hands on him, set a good face vpon a foule fact, and as though he had bene but in ieast, said, Stop me not for the loue of God, it is for a great wager. Thus the poore shoomaker returned home againe very angry, that he had lost both his paines & his pence; for the other

got the goale by ouer-running him. Here, because Erasmus calleth them ocreas, I haue translated them bootes; yet we may not thinke that they were like French bootes, but such as might be worne with shoes.

9 But hauing spoken sufficiently of theeues that runne away with the booty, let vs now treate of those who stirre not a foote after they haue played a part of le∣gerdemain, but look smoothly, as though butter would not melt in their mouths. A Scottish gentleman told me that when King Iames the fift went ouer into France (which was Anno 1536.) the Earles of Errol, Argile and Mar••e hauing feasted the Ladies of Saint Antonies streete, where they lodged; whilest the Earle of Argile was looking vpon certaine gamesters that played after supper, there was a gallant as braue as a Peacock, who in sporting maner vntied about fiue and twen∣tie or thirtie Angels, and rose Nobles, which being bended together and folded one in another, serued in stead of golden buttons to the cuts of a night gowne, which the Earle had on, as the fashion was in those dayes. The Earle seeing him so sumptuously attired, and going about his businesse with such good grace, as one that meant no hurt, but onely to make some sport, suffered him to do his plea∣sure. But when this royster thought he had enough, shewing that that which he had done was in good earnest, he went slily away out of the hall. Whereupon the Earle (who had made as though he had knowne nothing, whilest he was fidling about his gowne) told the companie how the knaue had serued him, and withall shewed them euident signes thereof; whch was not done without great laughter. Whereupon they (who were better acquainted with such sleights) gaue him a ca∣ueat to be more warie another time, seeing for the present there was no remedy, but patience.

10 I proceed to another good fellow, who was his crafts master as well as the former, at least had as good a grace in cunning conueyance. In the raigne of King Francis the first, a gentlemanlike thiefe as he was groping the Cardinal of Lorrains pocket, was seene by the King as he sate at Masse right ouer the Cardinall; where he perceiuing himselfe to be discried, beckened to the King to hold his peace, and he should see good sport. Whereupon the King suffered him to do his pleasure: but shortly after he vsed certaine speeches to the Cardinall, whereby he gaue him occasion to feele for his purse. The Cardinall missing his mony, stood in a maze, wondering at this accident: which ministred to the king (who had seen the whole pageant) matter of merriment. But when he had taken his fill of laughter, his plea∣sure was, the mony should be restored to the Cardinal againe: for he supposed the fellow had taken it of purpose to make sport. But he was deceiued; for whereas he imagined that he had bene some honest gentleman and of good note (seeing him so resolute, and setting so good a face vpon the matter) he found afterwards that he was a notable theefe indeed (disguised onely like a gentleman) who meant not to ieast, but counterfetting a iester, to go about his businesse in good earnest, as the former had done. Whereupon the Cardinall turned the iest vpon the King: who (as his manner was) swore as he was a gentleman, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it was the first time that a theefe had made him his fellow.

11 And here the theft committed in the presence of the Emperour Charles the fift, comes in very fitly after the former acted in the French Kings presence (as hath bene said) and partly also with his consent. The Emperour hauing comman∣ded his seruants to trusse vp bag and baggage; whilest euery man was busie in pac∣king vp his implements, there came a good fellow into the hall (where the Empe∣rour was, with a small traine, ready to take horse) who as soone as he was come into

the roome, and had done his dutie, beganne to take downe the hangings, making as if he had had other businesse in hand, and had bene in hast. And though it was not his occupation to hang vp, and take downe hangings, yet he performed it so well, that when he who had the charge to take them downe came into the hall, he found that another had eased him of that labour, and (which was worse) had car∣ried them away. See what impudent theeues there are now a dayes.

12 Howbeit the boldnesse of an Italian theefe (who did the like) at Rome, in the time of Paul the third, was nothing inferiour to the former. There had bene a great feast in a Cardinals house, and the plate being set vp in a chest that stood in a chamber neare to the hall, where the feast was kept: whilest diuers waiting for their maisters, walked in this outward chamber (or Anticamera as Italians speake) there came in a good fellow in a cassock, apparelled like a steward, with a torch be∣fore him, who desired those that sate vpon the chest to rise vp, saying that he was to vse it; and they were no sooner risen vp, but he bad the porters that followed him to take it vp and carry it away. This gallant tricke was playd after that the stew∣ard of the house and all the seruants were gone to supper; at least it is to be thought that if any of them were then in the Anticamera (as their custome was) they did not marke it.

13 But what shall we say to the boldnesse and impudencie of another Italian, (hanged at Bononia about eleuen yeares ago) who hauing serued out a long pren∣tiship at Rome in learning to counterfet mens hands and writings, and to take seales from one instrument to put to another; because he much resembled Cardinal Ser∣monet, went in a Cardinals habite and traine (though very small) through Marke d'Ancona and Romagna with a counterfet Bul, whereby he said he had a cōmission from the Pope to gather the tithes of that countrey: albeit he came neare no great cities for feare of being detected. But hauing had good successe in his attempts (because the most tooke him for Cardinall Sermonet) he passed through Romagna and came somwhat neare to Bononia. Now as soone as the Bishop of Ferm•• (who was the Popes Vicelegate) heard thereof, he sent one of his gentlemen vnto him (who had sometime attended vpon Cardinall Sermonet) who certified the Vice∣legate that he was not the man he affirmed himselfe to be; which caused him som∣what to suspect this gallant, the rather for that he had not obserued accustomed solemnities and ceremonies which other Cardinals were wont to obserue. Wher∣upon he sent him againe with a troupe of souldiers, giuing him expresse charge and cōmandement to apprehend him, if he knew for certaine that he were not the man he counterfetted himselfe to be. In the meane time this companion (being now discouered the second time by sundry priuie markes) was better knowne by one of his eares, which he had lost for his good deserts, which he shewed at vna∣wares as he put off his litle Cardinals hat. The Captaine therfore commanded his souldiers to lay hands on him. But he no lesse resolute, bold and impudent then before, charged them to take heed what they did, with his thundering threats ma∣king them all to quake for feare, brauing it out with as high and loftie termes as the proudest Cardinall in Rome could haue done, if the like violence had bene offered him. The souldiers (who made scruple at the first to encounter him) were in the end encouraged by their captaine to grapple with him. Where hauing apprehen∣ded him, they brought him to Bononia with two of his men who were not priuie to this his knauery (the rest which were accessary being fled away.) And there he was condemned by the Vice-legate, and hanged at Saint Petronio's gate in a Car∣dinals attire, wearing on his head a mytre of paper with this title or inscription,

IL RE DE' LADRI, The King of theeues, that is to say, The King of good fellows. He had six thousand crowns about him, which (as it was reported) was nothing to that which his two men (who were fled away) had caried with thē. I do the rather set downe this story at large, because it is a very notable and memorable fact. For albeit we haue heard many who haue vsurped the name & held the place of those whom they resembled (as I haue declared in my Latine Apologie) yet they tooke such mens names as they knew were dead, or of whom a man could hardly heare any certaine newes. Which was farre otherwise with this companion, seeing the Cardinall (whose name he borrowed) was then liuing (as he knew well) and not so farre off, but that he might haue heard from him in a very short time. Now sith I am come to the King of our moderne theeues (euen in the iudgement of those that condemned him) I should do him wrong if I should proceed further, in hope to find any more notorious and cunning theft then his.

14 Notwithstanding lest he should be left alone, and lest it should be thought that Italy onely were furnished with such bold Brittans, I thought it not imper∣tinent here to insert two other stories, one of a French-man, another of a Polo∣nian, who for such feates (proceeding from like audacitie) deserue not onely to be of his Court and Counsell, but successors to his Crowne. The French-man (as very a conicatcher as the former) was borne at Saumur vpon Loire, being so cun∣ning in counterfetting the Kings seales and letters, that shewing certaine extraor∣dinary commissions, which (as he said) he had obtained of the King, he got great sums of the Kings receiuers; & made a mightie masse of mony by selling of certain woods which were felled for the Kings vse. But being in the end discouered, he went the same way that the king of good fellowes had shewed him: and as he was hanged in a Cardinals habite, so this companion was executed at Paris in a gentle∣mans attire before the Church of the Augustine Friers, the same day that the Court of Parliament was kept in that Couent about sixteen yeares ago. Some are of opi∣nion that he was the man that gaue intelligence to king Francis the first (by means of a notable theft which he committed) of that which the Emperour Charles the fift, and the King of England had plotted against him: and did not onely aduertise him thereof, but brought him their very tickets, instructions and letters. For mee∣ting a Flemmish gentleman vpon the way trauelling toward England, he tooke acquaintance of him, telling him that he was his countriman, and so rode along with him to the hauen where they w••re to take ship. Whither being come, when the Flemming was laid downe to take his rest (waiting for wind and weather) the French-man (who had perswaded him to rest himself vpon the bed) faining to be sound asleepe, rising softly, went and bought a budget like vnto the Flemmings, and hauing filled it with roles of white paper vntill it was about the same weight, layd it vpon the table in stead of the Flemmings budget. And hauing so done, he awoke the Dutch man, and told him that he had left certaine things behind him which he had forgotten, and therefore was of necessitie to returne backe againe, intreating him not to take it vnkindly that he brake off companie. The Flemming little suspecting what might be the meaning of this sodaine change, but thinking he meant good sooth, could not but thanke him for his good companie, and after many kind embracings, recommended him to Gods protection, and so betooke him to his rest againe: yet he left not his budget (I meane the budget which he supposed had bene his owne) any longer vpon the table, but put it vnder his pil∣low. Wherein the simple fellow was like to that noddie, who when the steed was stolne, shut the stable doore. Now whilest the Flemming slept, the French-man

went post with his budget, which he should haue put vnder his pillow, or in a surer place, before he had layd him downe to rest. And you may easily coniecture whe∣ther the French-man brought not a welcome present to the French King (though he had stolne it,) and whether the Flemming brought not heauie newes to the King of England. Some say that he beheaded him, saying that he would make him an example to all such sticklers as intermeddle in Princes affaires, to teach them to be more wary and wise, and to handle the matter a little more cunningly. This is the fine fetch which was reported to haue bin plaid by him, whose cheating and knauery I haue before recorded, both of them being practised against the same King. Which being so, we may well think that this cunning contriuer of thefts, in∣tended to benefite himselfe in endomaging the King as much by his last thefts, as he had done by his first. But many are of opinion that they came from two seueral men, and were coined in two seuerall mints. Howsoeuer, I would not giue lesse honor to the one then to the other. I come now to the Polonian called Florian, for boldnes & audacitie nothing inferiour to the former: who hauing by the same cunning deuice counterfetted the seales and letters of the King of Poland, came ouer into England as the Kings Ambassadour, where he continued a long time, being respected and honored as be seemed one of his place; and where he forgat not to vse the Kings credite in diuers theeuish practises as he had formerly done, and as he did since in dealing with great States: the King his master seeking in the meane time to haue had his head.

15 I will adde yet one other example of thefts (albeit I was purposed here to haue made an end) not like the three last, nor any formerly mentioned, but rather contrary vnto them, as hauing nothing common with them; and therfore so much the more necessary to be spoken of, to the end it may appeare that our Age may not onely brag of sundry new theeuish practises, but of all the rare sleights and subtilties mentioned in ancient stories. For here we haue an example of one theefe stealing frō another. A yeare ago, or somewhat more, there was a merchant in an Inne at Paris, who had layd vp a great summe of mony (which he had receiued for certaine wares) in a cupboord: where a seruant in the Inne hauing marked him, watching his oportunitie, opened the cupboord, and stole thence two bags, one ful of gold, the other of siluer; and being laden with them, went about two leagues from Paris towards Montargis, where being come to his Inne very late in the eue∣ning, and weary of his iourney, he intreated his host to help him to a horse, which might be ready for him the next morning: who told him it wold be a hard matter to hire one. The traueller after diuers offers, at last promised to giue him a French crowne for one till dinner: which free offer made his host somewhat to suspect him, especially considering he had seene his two bags; whereupon he promised to prouide a horse for him against the next morning. Hauing therefore got him on horseback by breake of day, & accompanying him to the place where he thought it fittest to arrest him, he tooke him such a bastinado in the nape of the necke, that he strucke him downe to the ground, so amazed that he knew not where he was; and afterwards made such agreement with him (crying out onely for mercy) that hauing taken as much of the stolen mony as he thought good, he returned home againe with his horse. Now it so fortuned, that one of those who went post to pursue the theefe, found him with the remainder of his mony going towards Mon∣targis; and knowing him to be the man he sought for, he fed him so with faire words, that he drew him along with him to the next towne, and there committed him ouer to the Iustices to be sent to Montargis; where being imprisoned, he con∣fessed

the fact, and accused his host, who was presently sent for, to the end they might be confronted together: and notwithstanding his deniall of the fact, was condemned to the racke. But he appealed to the Court of Parliament at Paris, where he was broken vpon the wheele, the seruant escaping better cheape, being onely hanged.

16 Thus hauing alledged sundry examples of the cunning and boldnesse of our moderne theeues, it will not be amisse to record an ancient storie taken out of the Author, for whose Apologie this treatise is a preparatiue. Though in so do∣ing, I shall passe the bounds which I haue prescribed to my selfe, and anticipate the argument of the bookes ensuing: notwithstanding because it will not be preiudi∣ciall, but rather beneficiall to the Reader, I am easily drawne to dispense with my selfe herein. Marke then the story of the sleight and pollicie (or rather sleights and pollicies) of one Villon, not borne in France but in Aegypt, and that not some few yeares since, but aboue fiue and twentie hundred yeares ago: which story (taken out of HERODOTVS) I will here translate with greater fidelitie, then either Laurentius Valla in his Latin translation (such as it was before my refining of it) or the French, which is now extant. These therefore are his words.

A King of Aegypt called Rampsinit, minding to lay vp his treasure in a safe place (whereof he had far greater store then euer any of his successors) he built a house all of hewen stone, a part whereof stood out from the other building, to which there was easie accesse. But the Mason being disposed to play the knaue with him, left a stone loose in the building, which might easily be taken out of the wall by two, or (if need were) by one. The worke being finished, the King layd vp his treasure therein. After a time, the Mason perceiuing that his glasse was almost runne▪ and the lease of his life wel neare expired, called vnto him his two sonnes, and told them how (to the end he might leaue them wel prouided for, and that they might haue wherewith to make merry when he was gone) he had vsed a fine deuice in building the closet for the Kings treasure: and hauing shewed them in particuler how they should take out the stone, he gaue them the measure of it, assuring thē that if they kept it carefully, they should be keepers of the Kings treasure. Their father being dead, they stayed not long befo••e they assayed the meanes prescribed. For comming shortly after to the Kings pallace in the night, and finding the stone, they tooke it out very easily, and stole the•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ightie masse of mony. The King comming thither not long after, and perceiuing that his coffers were not so ful as they were accustomed, wondered not a little; yet could not tell whom he might accuse, considering all the doores were surely locked, and all things sealed as he had left them. But comming thither the second and third time, and perceiuing that his treasury diminished dayly (for the theeues repaired thither continually) he caused ••innes and snares to be se•• round about the place where the treasure lay. The theeues repairing thither as they were accustomed, one of them hauing entred in, and coming neare to the coffers, perceiued that he was intangled in a snare: and knowing in what danger he was, called to his brother, and told him what misfortune had befallen him, willing him to come in quickly, and to cut off his head: for (said he) if I be found here, and knowne, I shall be the cause of thy death also. His brother being ••asily perswaded (as liking well his aduice) did as he had bidden him. And hauing layd the stone in his place again, returned home, carying with him his brothers head The King co∣ming to his closet early in the morning, was exceedingly amazed to see the theeues body in the snare without a head, especially cōsidering there was no breach in the wall, by which he might enter in. Departing therfore thence, he did as followeth.

He commanded that the dead corpes should be hung vpon the wall, committing the custodie thereof to his guard, straightly charging and commaunding them, that if they espied any that did mourne, or bewray any griefe or compassion at the sight thereof, they should attach them, and bring them before him. The mans mo∣ther, much perplexed that her sons body was thus hung vp, came to her other son, desiring him to deuise some meanes to take downe his brothers body, threatning him, that if he would not, she would informe the King that he was the man that had stolen his treasure. He hauing bene sundry times threatned and rated by his mother in this sort, and perceiuing that she would not desist for all the reasons he could alledge, deuised this sleight. He sadled certaine Asses, and lading them with rundlets of wine, draue them before him; and being come to the place where the guard watched the corps, he let loose the hoopes of the barrels, making way for the wine to runne out, and then began to cry out and to beate his head, as not knowing to which of the asses he should run first. The guard seeing so much wine spilt, ranne thither with vessels thicke and threefold, thinking the more they saued the more they should gain. Where he in the meane time faining as though he had bene horne mad for anger, reuiled and cursed them all. But seeing they spake him so faire, and entertained him with so good language, he made shew by little and little as though he had bene pacified and had forgotten his former furious fit; and after much ado hauing gotten his Asses out of the way, he mended his barrels. Now among other speeches which passed betweene them in the meane time, one of the companie being very pleasant, brake a iest vpon him which made his wor∣ship laugh; in lieu whereof he bestowed one of his barrels vpon him, which they resolued to draw drie, and to carouse of in the same place and plight they were in, intreating him to beare them companie. Whereunto he condescended, and stayd with them. And because they had so kindly entertained him and made him such sport, he presented them with a second barrell: so that hauing that blessed abun∣dance, euen wine at will, they neuer left tipling and carowsing, till their wits stood wetshod; and being in the end ouercome with sleep, they rested in the same place. He then in the dead time of the night went and tooke downe his brothers body; and to the further disgrace of the guard, shaued all their right cheekes: and laying the body vpon one of his Asses, returned home againe, hauing fully accom∣plished his mothers desire. The King hearing that the body was stolen▪ as highly displeased; and resoluing by some meanes to find out the theefe that had commit∣ted the fact, he vsed this deuice (which notwithstanding I can scarce beleeue.) He commaunded his daughter to go to a brothel-house, and there to prostitute her self to all comers; vpon condition they should first acquaint her with the most notorious fact, and cunningest knauery that euer they committed: and that he that should confesse the stealing of the theeues carcasse, should forthwith be atta∣ched by her, and sent to the Court. Whilest then the Kings daughter addressed her selfe to fulfill her fathers mind, the rumour of the Kings intended resolution came to the theefes eares, who purposing to shew that he was more crafty in pre∣uenting, then the King in inuenting this wile, thus deluded his daughter: he cut off a mans hand newly dead▪ and keeping it close vnder his gowne, went to visit her. Where she asked him the same question she had demaunded of others. Wher∣upon he told her, that the most wicked and notorious fact that euer he commit∣ted, was the cutting off of his brothers head, who was taken in a snare as he ad∣uentured to rob the Kings treasure; and the wittiest was the taking downe of his corpes from the gibbet, after he had made the guard drunke. She hearing this,

layd hands on him, with intent to apprehend him: but the knaue (by reason of the darknesse of the place) gaue her a dead mans hand in stead of his owne: so that whilest she thought she had him fast by the hand, he slipt away, leauing her this liuelesse pawne to vse at her pleasure. Which when the King heard, he was greatly astonished, as well at the craft, as at the boldnesse of the theefe. In the end he sent his Heralds throughout all his dominions, commaunding them to proclaime in the Kings name, that he would not onely pardon him that had done this fact, but highly aduance him if he would repaire to the Court. The theefe reposing him∣selfe vpon the gracious pardon of the Prince, went to the Court: where King Rampsinit hauing him in great admiration, gaue him his daughter to wife, as being the wittiest man in the world. In that, as the Aegyptians excelled all other men in wit and wiles, so he excelled all other Aegyptians.

This is the history as HERO∣DOTVS relates it, which I haue translated almost word for word as neare as I could, to keepe the proprietie and grace of our tongue; a thing as difficult in tran∣slating of him, as of any Greek writer whatsoeuer, and that for sundry reasons not necessary here to be stood vpon. Yet this I will not omit, how that in translating hereof, I haue noted sundry scapes in Valla's translation, which notwithstanding I corrected not in my former edition. Neither is any man to wonder hereat, see∣ing I acknowledge in my Preface thereto, that I haue left a number of scapes and ouersights vncorrected, vntouched and vncensured: considering also that the diligence which is seene in perusing a text when a man translateth it himselfe, is farre greater, then when he correcteth another mans worke, endeuoring to saue the credit of the translator as much as may be: especially when he doth it in hast, as it is wel knowne I did. Yet I denie not but that there are some places in the tran∣slation of this story, wherein I could not satisfie my selfe: and therefore I perswade my selfe I shall much lesse satisfie those who are skilfull in the Greeke tongue. But I presume, that they who are most cunning, and consequently do best conceiue the difficulties with which I was to encounter, will of all others be most easily sa∣tisfied. Now this history suteth so wel with the argument in hand, that I could not wel omit it, being written of a theefe, whom the author graceth with the two pro∣perties specified in the former examples, to wit, craftinesse and boldnesse, and both in the highest degree. Whereby we may learne what vse there is to be made of pa∣ralleling of histories, especially of ancient with moderne. For whereas the cun∣ning and boldnesse of this old theefe, may haply at the first seeme strange and al∣most incredible; yet if we compare it with the craft and boldnesse of our moderne theeues, we shall find that there is no such cause it should be thought so strange. And for as much as it may be thought somewhat hard, that the King could find in his heart to prostitute his daughter in such sort (as it is indeed very harsh I con∣fesse) yet soundeth it not so harshly in my eares, as this their censure of HERO∣DOTVS doth (for I haue heard many euer excepting, especially against this point) sith himselfe protesteth that he giues no credit thereunto, but only relates it as he heard it. And yet I could alledge (if need were) sundry stories, which we must either account false and fabulous (whereas notwithstanding they are holden to be most certaine and infallible) or confesse that in this there is great semblance of truth.

17 But whilest I was copying this story out of HERODOTVS, ano∣ther came into my mind of a theefe, or rather a cutter by the high way, infinitely more resolute then the former, and as bold and venterous as any of that cutting crue, whose fell and felonious attempts and actions haue bin before remembred.

Dion the historian recordeth the history of this theefe (or rather captain of theeues) who kept such a ruffling in the raigne of Seuerus the Emperour about 195. yeares after Christ. A certaine Italian (saith he) called Bulas, hauing gathered a troupe of six hundred theeues, cōmitted great robberies in Italy for the space of two yeares, maugre the Emperour and the many garrisons residing in those quaters. Diuers sought to take him, because the Emperour was desirous to haue him apprehen∣ded: but he so handled the matter, that those which saw him, saw him not, those which found him, found him not, and those that had him, had him not; which he did partly by liberall and bountiful gifts, partly by craftie wiles: which he knew well how to put in practise in time and place. For he had intelligence of all such as at any time went out of Rome, or arriued at Brundusium (called by some Brendis) how many they were, so also of what qualitie and condition, and what substance they had. Some he forthwith dismissed after he had taken from them part of their goods: tradesmen he detained for a time, and when they had serued his turne, he recompenced them for their labour and paines, and afterward sent them away. And vnderstanding on a time that two of his men should be exposed to wilde beasts, he came to the Iayler and made him beleeue that he was the Prouost-mar∣shall of the country, and that he stood in need of the men whom he had in prison, and thereupon caused him to deliuer them into his hands. Then going to the cap∣taine that had commission to discomfite hm and his troupe, he began (as if he had bene some third person) to reuile the theefe, (that is himselfe) promising him that if he would follow him, he would deliuer him into his hands. Whereupon drawing him along with him into a valley vnder colour as though he would ap∣prehend Phaelix (for so was Bulas surnamed) he layd hands on him, and counter∣fetting the person of the Prouost-marshall, sate downe in the iudgement seate; where hauing called the captaine before him, hee caused one of his men to shaue him; and hauing so done, he dismissed him, saying, Bid thy maister haue more care of his vassals, lest in the end they all turne theeues: (for he had of his crue at that instant a multitude of the Emperours seruants, some who for want of pay, and others by reason of their slender pay had left the Emperours seruice to follow him.) Of which when Seuerus was particularly informed, he was mightily incen∣sed, taking it in high scorne, that he who had bene so victorious ouer his enemies in Brittaine by his Lieutenant, himselfe being in Italy in proper person, should be so bearded and braued by a theefe. Whereupon he gaue a new commission to one of his guard for the apprehending of him, and sent him with a great troupe of horsemen, threatning him with death if he brought him not aliue. The Captaine hauing reciued such a peremptory commaundement, vnderstanding that he was wont to entertaine another mans wife, caused her husband to perswade her to as∣sist him in the busines, that so he might be sure to surprise him. And by this sleight he was caught whilst he was asleep in a caue, & was afterwards brought before Pa∣pinian (gouernour of the Prouince) who asked him why he gaue himselfe to rob∣bing and spoiling? to whom he answered by propounding another question; And why (Sir) are you a gouernour? After this he was cast to wild beasts: whereupon his fellowes (to the number of sixe hundred) were dispersed, as vnable to do any thing without their captaine.

18 There remaine two other sorts of theeues, of which I had rather here speake then deferre them to the next Chapter, which I reserue for such as make no open profession of stealing, but cloke their knaueries vnder colour of their calling: which to speake the truth are none of the smallest (as most of those heretofore

mentioned) but of the greatest and grossest, to wit, Pirates and Bankerupts. First for Pyrates; they are I confesse no new vpstarts, but of great standing, euen from all antiquitie, as may appeare by certaine verses of Homer, alledged by Thucydi∣des. Yet our Age, number for number, hath had more cunning and skilfull, more dangerous and hurtfull theeues in this kind then any of the former. He amongst auncient pirates is famous for his boldnesse, who being brought before Alexan∣der the great, and demaunded how he durst be so bold as to play the pirate in the narrow seas? answered, Because I do this with a single ship, I am called a theefe, thou that doest the like with a great fleete, art called a King. Which answer plea∣sed Alexander so well (as the story reports) that he pardoned him. Here note that the word pirate which I haue translated theefe, signifieth one that robbeth by sea, whom we call a rouer, or sea-robber: which generall word I was the more bold to vse, because it suteth better with the other generall, viz. robberies. But whether we vse the generall or the particular, it skilleth not: we haue here the answer of a very bold theefe, especially seeing he had to deale with such a mighty monarch as Alexander was. Notwithstanding I perswade my selfe, that he that shall well con∣sider the dealing of Dragut (a pirate of our time) shall find that he was nothing in∣feriour in boldnesse and subtiltie either to him or a dozen of any of the most fa∣mous theeues mentioned in auncient stories. Concerning Bankerupts, I will not say of them as I did of Pirates, that they are as old as the man in the Moone. For certaine it is, there were no bankerupts till long after pirates began to roue, seeing it is necessary there should be banks before there could be any bankerupts: (for doubtlesse the coiners of this word, called them bank-rupts that kept not their banks, but brake them, which the Latins call foro cedere) and it was a long time (we know) before men knew what banks meant, namely before there was such trafficke as now there is. And as banks are more in vse at this day then euer they were, so breaking is more vsuall, there being as many bankerupts in some places as good bankers. In some places (I say): for I except France, as worthy to haue this honour giuen vnto it (not for that it is my natiue country, but because it is a truth cleared by daily experiēce) in that it is not so addicted to this kind of theft, as other countries are, and Italy aboue the rest. For it stands with good reason, that those who first brought vp the vse of banks, should be more expert therein then their scholers, and should reserue some secret or other to themselues, how they may breake bankes and become bankerupts, if they chance to be wearied with that oc∣cupation. For as they who are in good credite and account, and mistrusted by none, need no great cunning to become bankerupts: so they whose credite begin∣neth to cracke, and to whom men haue an eye, cannot handsomly breake without many sleights and subtilties. Albeit these latter (as experience sheweth) play the merchants herein more cunningly then the former. And verily the common say∣ing, There would be no theeues if there were no receiuers, ought to be extended to ban∣kerupts. And it further giues vs to vnderstand, how transcendent the wickednesse of this age is in comparison of the former. For now arrant theeues do not onely scape scot••free, but find abettors euen amongst those that should represse them, and who onely haue the sword in their hands to execute the law vpon them. Nay there are some Churches in Italy which are professed sanctuaries of roguery: and rather harbour a theefe that hath stolen ten or twentie thousand pounds, then one that hath cut a purse not worth a groate. And it is grown now to a custom to giue dayes of payment, yea day after day; during which time, honest men who are co∣sened of all their goods in this sort, are constrained to see these conicatchers make

good cheare at their owne costs, and yet dare not speake a word. Now these daies of respite, are strange alluring baites. I remember I was once in a place, where a side of a rich merchants house (who was a banker) had bene burned, where it was reported that himselfe had set it on fire, to the end he might with some colour ob∣taine a longer day of payment, whereby he should gaine twentie times as much as the fire had endomaged him. Yet I denie not but that such termes are sometime expedient, and that they were inuented vpon good consideration: I speake onely against the abuse herein committed. But leauing the deciding of this controuersie to more competent Iudges, I wil adde this one thing concerning these bankerout theeues, that though I haue spoken of bankerupts, taking the word bankerupt in his speciall and proper signification, yet I exclude not those that are comprised vnder the generall acception, whether they become bankerupts by hiding their heads, or making ouer their goods, or otherwise.

19 As for womens thefts, my purpose is to reserue them for th•••• kind of theft whereof I am hereafter to intreate, as being that which makes them much more famous or rather infamous: and wherein if not all women (God forbid it should be so) yet some of all sorts haue their hands. Whereas onely some filthy queanes, especially our puzzles of Paris vse this other theft whereof we haue spoken: whence I will borrow two examples which shall easily shew that the number of cutpurses is not smal. The first shal be of a woman takē as she was cutting a purse in the street, who perceiuing that the party whose purse she had cut, wold accuse her if she did not restore it again, tooke him aside, and leading him into a corner apart, told him secretly; True it is indeed I cut your purse, and put it in my basket among the rest, so that I know not which of them it is; see if you can know it better then my selfe. And thus she made him looke for it in her basket which was almost full of them. I haue also heard of an old woman, who seeing a poore wench much grieued for that her purse was cut, told her that she knew a good remedie for it: Deale (quoth she) as thou hast bene dealt with. The wench easily perswaded to follow her aduice, did so; and so it was, that in the first purse which she cut, she found her owne purse againe.

20 But before I proceed to prosecute the second kind of theft, I will shew a pitifull and lamentable thing accompanying these poore wretches executed for robberies, more to be bewailed at this day then euer. For where there is one that is touched with remorse of conscience, or confesseth his offence before he giue his last farewel to the world, or call to God for mercie, there are ten that die like dogs; hauing no more feeling of the frowne or fauour, the iustice or mercy of God, then bruite beasts. And how many are there (I beseech you) who are turned off the ladder whilest they are in their gibes and iests? One being in this case, said, Sirs, see you tell not my friends that you saw me on the gallowes, for so you may chance make me runne mad. Another; Masters, tell me in good faith, do you think I wold euer haue come hither if I had not bin brought? Another, when his ghostly father bad him plucke vp a good heart, for he should surely go that day to Paradise: O sir (quoth he) it will suffice if I come thither to morrow night. Another, when Sir Iohn told him, My friend, I assure you you shall suppe this night with God in hea∣uen: answered, Go and sup there your selfe, for I am purposed to fast to day; or, Go you in my roome, and I will pay your shot. Another being vpon the ladder, asked for drinke, and because the hang-man dranke before him, he said he durst not pledge him for feare of the French poxe. Another being led to the gallows, said he would not go through such a street for feare of the plague. Another, I wil not passe

through such a lane, for I am indebted to one there, who will arrest me. Another said to the hang-man now ready to turne him off, looke well what thou doest, for if thou tickle me, thou wilt make me start. But this of a Picard is most famous of all the rest, to whom (being vpon the ladder) they brought a poore weather-beaten wench that had miscaried, telling him that if he would promise vpon his faith and saluation to take her to wife, they would saue his life: whereupon desiring to see her go, and perceiuing that she was lame and that she limped, he turned himselfe to the hang-man, and said Attaque, attaque, elle eloque: Dispatch, dispatch, she halteth. And I remember that being at supper in Auspurge with Charles de Marillac then Bishop of Vienna, and Ambassadour for the French King, when this story was told; a Dutch gentleman who was at the table, paralleled it with another very like, of an accident that happened in Denmarke, to wit, of a man adiudged to the block, to whom (being vpon the scaffold) they brought a woman that had trod awry, offering him the same condition they had done the former: where the fellow ha∣uing viewed her well, and perceiuing that she had a sharpe nose and flat cheekes, said he would not buy repentance so deare; vttering withall a Dutch prouerbe in rime, the meaning whereof is this, vnder a sharpe nose and flat cheekes there is no good to be found. I remember also that it was concluded out of these examples at that supper, that whores in former times were more hated and abhorred then at this day. But to leaue this discourse, and to returne in a word to the iests and scoffes of these wicked wretches, I will onely adde this one thing, that if there were nothing else to shew the power and efficacie of Gods word where it hath free passage, this alone were sufficient to proue that where mens consciences are touched to the quicke, such euents are seldome or neuer seene; because the word of God teaching what eternall life and eternall death meane, and piercing through (as the Apostle saith) euen to the diuiding of the soule and the spirit, causeth the stoutest cham∣pions and most desperate ruffians seriously to bethinke themselues of their future estate: whereas mens forged and deuised doctrines, vnder colour of religion, dull some, and minister vnto others matter of laughter.

21 I proceed now to the second kind of theft, which I kept in store for wo∣men, I meane that whereby they hornifie their husbands. And here calling adul∣tery theft, I follow the Latine, where furtum (which properly signifieth theft) is often taken for adulterium, that is, adultery. For which cause it is called by a peri∣phrasis, furtiua Venus, furtiua voluptas, furtiua gaudia, and furtiua nox. The like circumlocutions being vsed also in Greeke. And so a child begotten in adultery is called in French * 1.11 Vn enfant desrobé. And verily (all things being duly conside∣red) it will be found that there is no theft comparable to this, if we regard the common saying, That which is worth the stealing, is worth the restoring. Which can∣not be said of the theft we now speake of: for how can a woman restore that vnto her husband, which she stealeth not from him, but rather alienateth and loseth in suffering it to be taken from her? or what honorable satisfaction may make amends for such a fault? Therefore it was excellently said by the wittiest of all the Latine Poets,

— nulla reparabilis arte Laesa pudicitia est, deperit illa semel.

Who also in a ciuill and modest manner doth not onely expresse adultery by this or the like phrases, Laedere pudorem (which signifieth word for word, to hurt or wrong ones chastitie) but by others also which properly signifie theft, as when he saith, Auferre pudorem, and, rapere pudorem. Of the first we haue an example in the

second booke of his Metamorphosis, in these words:

Et silet, & laesi da•• signa rubore pudoris.

Of the second, in the sixt:

Aut linguam, atque oculos, & quae tibi membra pudorem Abstulerant, ferro rapiam.

And in the first,—tenuit{que} fugam, rapuit{que} pudorem. And in the Epistle of Helena to Paris:

Nec spolium nostri turpe pudoris habe.

Which is spoken of a married man, and of her of whom he deliuered that ex∣cellent saying formerly mentioned. In which phrases we are to obserue the word pudor, shame, which signifieth, that a woman committing such a fact, doth not only loose her good name (as we say in French, Oster l'honneur à vne fille, To take away a maids good name) but euen all shame and modestie. We are here further to note, that our ancestors (to the end they might emphatically describe an impudent per∣son, and shew how great a vice they iudged impudencie to be) called an impudent man a dog, and an impudent woman a bitch. But how (may some say) do these ex∣amples taken out of Ouid and such like Poets, agree to the former discourse con∣cerning theft, sith in the verses where married women are onely mentioned, and not maids, it is not said that they defraud their husbands, but that, that is taken from them which properly belongeth to their husbands? To which I answer, that albeit women commit not this theft themselues, they are notwithstanding rightly called theeues; because that after they haue defrauded their husbands of the loue and loyaltie which they promised them by solemne stipulation, and set it vpon o∣thers, they yeeld and prostitute themselues vnto them, that so they may steale that from their husbands which of right belongs vnto them.

22 I say they prostitute themselues: to put a necessary distinction betweene such as are allured by pleasure, and those who are compelled by force. For she that (for want of bridling her lust) is become bankcrupt of her honestie, hath (doubt∣lesse) a whores forehead, and is in plaine termes a very theefe: whereas she that is not able to withstand the violence that is offered her, and so is constrained to yeeld to the wicked will of man; or is circumuented by subtilty, and so hath that taken from her which otherwise she would neuer haue yeelded, argues by her resistance not onely that she is not accessary to the theft; but that her chastity is nothing im∣peached or impaired therby. And what better guardian can there be of a womans chastitie then the loue which she beareth to her husband? For if loue be seated in the soule and not in the body; it must needes follow, that so long as the soule is not polluted with the body, chastity remaines entire without either spot or blot. And how may we better know that the mind remaineth pure, the body being defiled, then by a womās resistāce? Now that chastity is not seated in the body, it is euidēt by that phrase which is vsual in sundry languages, wherby she who before she was married was called a modest maide, is after marriage called a modest matron. Where∣fore poore Lucretia did not iudge aright of herselfe and her owne estate, when she said, she had lost her chastitie, considering it is not in the power of man to de∣priue a woman thereof. Therefore that which she afterwards added, that her body was defiled, but her mind was vndefiled (as not consenting to the fact) doth con∣troll her former assertion, this being granted that the soule or mind is the seate of vertue, and not the body. Which point prophane writers did not so well con∣sider: for they do not onely excuse this her foule fact, in embruing her hands

in her owne bloud; but haue hence taken occasion to extoll her to the skies, as a most vertuous and couragious woman, in reuenging the outrage done vnto her, by her owne death. But before I make answer to the first obiection, touching the violence and villanie, which (as they say) was offered and done to her chastitie: I would desire them to shew me what they meane by reuenge; for in my vnder∣standing it is absurd, that an iniury should be reuenged by the death of him to whom it was offered, and not of him that offered it. I might further alledge, that she said not, Mors vltrix erit, or, vindex; Death shall take reuenge: but Mors testis e∣rit, my death shall be a witnesse. As though she should haue said, My death shall witnesse that to all the world, which lying hidden in my heart, I am not able to ex∣presse. I was so farre from being allured by lust and sensuality to yeeld mine assent, that my life by reason thereof is a burden vnto me, and as bitter as death it selfe. For answer to the second. Be it that her death were vindicatiue, yet it were but a reuenge of the iniury done to the defiled body, and not of the wrong done to the vndefiled mind, which is the seate of chastitie. Whereupon an auncient writer (whose name S. Augustine concealeth) hath this excellent saying, O strange and admirable thing, there were two persons, and yet one onely committed adulterie. But S. Augustine disputeth the point further in this sort: If it were not light skirtednesse and leuitie that caused her to companie with Tarquinius, she is vniustly punished, considering she is chast. For certes, the more her adultery is excused, the more is her murther condemned; and contrarily, the more her adultery is condemned, the more is her murther excused: this being granted, that it were lawfull for a man to kill himselfe. The same father commending the fine conceit of the foresaid wri∣ter, hath a finer of his owne in his second reason (if it be his) when as he saith, Si adultera, cur laudata? si pudica, cur occisa? that is, If she were an adulteresse, why is she commended? if she were chast, why was she murthered? Vpon which words a friend of mine (an excellent scholler, and one whom God hath enriched with many rare gifts and graces of his spirit, the fruite whereof is reaped in many places of Christendome at this day) made not long since this pleasant Epigram, which I will here impart to the Reader:

Si tibi fortè fuit, Lucretia, gratus adulter, Immeritò ex merita praemia caede petis. Sin potiùs casto vis est allata pudori, Quis furor est hostis crimine velle mori? Frustra igitur laudem captas, Lucretia: namque Vel furiosa ruis, vel scelerata cadis.

I will here also set it downe in French as it was turned ex tempore by one of the Authors friends:

Si le paillard t'a pleu, c'est à grand tort, Lucrece, Que par ta mort tu veux, coulpable, estre louée: Mais si ta chasteté, par force est violée, Pour le forfait d'autruy, mourir est-ce sagesse? Pour neant donc tu veux ta memoire estre heureuse: Car, ou tu meurs meschante, ou tu meurs furieuse.

That is,

Were that vnchast mate welcome to thy bed, Lucrece, thy lust was iustly punished, Why seek'st thou fame that di'dst deseruedly? But if foule force defil'd thine honest bed,

His onely rage should haue bene punished: Why di'dst thou for anothers villanie? Both wayes thy thirst of fame is too vniust, Dying, or for fond rage, or guiltie lust.

But not to speake of Christians, I perswade my selfe that if this fact of hers had bene propounded to heathen Philosophers, they would haue giuen no other iudgement. Sure I am of Xenophon, who in two seuerall places giues this reason why husbands may lawfully kill the adulterer, viz. because he steales from them the loue and loyaltie of their wiues, due to none but to themselues: For if (saith he) it so fall out that a woman be forced against her will, yet her husband will en∣tertaine her as kindly, and loue her as dearely as before, so long as her loue towards him is hartie and entire. Which saying of his agreeth wel with my former assertiō, that there is no better gardian of a womans chastity, then her loue to her husband. Now this point I was the more willing to handle, as a cordiall for chast and mo∣dest matrons; that if they chance either by fury of the warres, or insolencie of the conquerours, to fall into the like inconuenience with Lucretia, they should not despaire as she did, but rather remember that which hath bene said, and make vse thereof: lest otherwise they runne from one mischiefe into another, casting the helue after the hatchet, as it is in the French prouerbe. Of which desperate cour∣ses we haue dayly examples, some whereof (as they come to my mind) shall be recorded in the Chapter of murthers.

23 But, for one that taketh the matter so to heart, that she stands in neede of such aduertisements, there are (I feare me) an hundred who had neede of other manner of admonitions, to put them in mind how straight the band of matrimo∣nie is; and to withdraw them from the detestable opinion of the Philosopher, who labouring by all meanes to confound the order of nature, hartened on women by the example of an house, which is not a pin the worse, for lodging other guests and inmates beside the owner. Epictetus also (whom with Musonius I take to be the honestest of all the Philosophers) saith, that women in his time defended themselues and their sweet doings with the saying of Plato in his Politickes, That women ought to be common; and therefore they had this booke continually in their hands. Wherein though Plato did much ouer-shoote himselfe, yet it was the least part of his meaning his words should be wrested to this sence, or haue this construction set vpon them, which these modest matrons made thereof to defend themselues, and iustifie their dealing in the darke. For he said not, that women were to plight their troth to their husbands, that so they might keepe open house for all comers; but he aimed at another marke, which though it be not warran∣table, no not in the iudgement of the very heathen, yet thus much I dare say, that it is farre more tollerable then the long taile of mischieues and inconueniences which adultery draweth after it. How euer it be, we may plainly perceiue by the testimonie which Epictetus giueth of the Romane Ladies in his time, that they tooke no such great delight in reading the history of Lucretia: for if they had, que∣stionlesse they would neuer haue pleased themselues so much in reading Platoes Politickes, especially those places where such sweete sayings are recorded. And though women at this day haue not Platoes workes, it skilleth not, seeing they can say their lesson well enough without booke. Wherein I report my selfe to the dames of Paris, and to them rather then to any of our good gossips, not because it is the city wherein my selfe was borne, but for that the praise of all subtil sleights possible to be inuented (whereby they cuckolize and hornifie their husbands, sore

God knowes against their wils) doth properly belong vnto them in the opinion of all vpright, conscionable and indifferent iudges. Which commendation he gaue them, who being told that the time would come when he should weare hornes as well as his neighbours, and be mocked as kindly as he had mocked o∣thers, said, he knew a good remedie for it. And being intreated to shew what pre∣seruatiue he had in store against such cuckolizing, answered, That he would neuer marry in Paris: insinuating, that there was no place in the world where this in∣conuenience might worse be auoided. For my part, if I were to speake my con∣science herein; as he said, that he loued Plato well, but loued truth better: so hauing made this protestation, that I preferre the truth before my natiue coun∣trey, I must needs confesse, that though I haue trauelled through diuers countries and soiourned there no small time, yet was I neuer in place where cuckolds are better cheape, or (to speak more properly) where they may be made better cheape then at Paris. Some cuckolds are glad they haue such hornes, thinking themselues the better for them: others, who are not yet come to this preferment, watch opor∣tunitie to clime thereunto. A third sort are mal-content with their heauie heads: but alas poore soules, there is no remedie but patience: for if they complaine of their wiues neuer so little, they shall be sure, not onely to weare longer and larger in spite of their teeth, but in stead of pulling them in and hiding them, shall be made to shew them to the world; as we see in the example of certaine kind cuc∣kolds mentioned before, who commencing sute against their wiues for such dal∣liance and double dealing, got nothing but their paines for their labour, viz. to be pointed at euen by little children, who could say, these are they who caused them∣selues to be registred for cuckolds by the sentence of the Court. By which we may see, what difference there is betweene this and former ages; when (as Xenophon witnesseth) the law was so strict against adulterers, that they only of all delinquents were to die the death. But leauing the histories of former times, we see how men are permitted in many places of Italy (in such a case) to do execution vpon their wiues, without other forme of iustice. And I remember, that during mine abode at Naples (shortly after the beginning of the warre of Siena) a certaine * 1.12 Forussite being secretly entred into the citie killed his wife, whom he tooke at vnawares in the fact. And it was told me some few dayes after, that he was not onely acquit and cleared by the Court, but that the magistrates were about to enact a law, that all Forussites who stealing priuily into the citie could performe the like iustice in doing execution vpon their adulterous wiues, should not onely be exempt from punishment, but also redeeme their banishment. Yet I cannot iustly say that it was so concluded: but sure I am, that I heard it spoken by one of their chiefest counsellers, shortly after the death of their Viceroy. And though we had no other story but that of the Sicilian Euensong, it were sufficient to shew, that cuckolds were then made dog cheape. But I feare me, all that I can say herein, will be but so many waste words spoken in the wind, especiallly being directed to those who re∣lie so much vpon the noddy like simplicitie, and cuckold-like bountie of their trim husbands. For doubtlesse there are a number at this day, cosin-germans to that wittall, who suspecting that his wife plaid the wanton in his absence, came vpon a time and tooke her at vnawares in the fact, and seeing his lieutenants shoes stan∣ding by the bed side; See (said he) a plaine proofe hereof. It is enough for me to haue seene it: and hauing so said, went backe againe, leauing them to make an end of their sport. And comming the next morning to his kinsmen and friends, told them what had befallen him: saying withall, O Lord how may a man be transpor∣ted

with anger? for when I saw the knaues shoes standing by the bed side, I could haue found in my heart to haue pulled them in a thousand peeces. But to returne to the argument in hand. Albeit this discourse would serue for no other end, yet it would serue to proue that those huswiues, who because they can so easily plant hornes on their husbands heads, are called gallant wenches, quicke witted, merry, dis∣creet, wise, well spoken, sociable, or (at the worst) good gossips; should be termed (as they were in old time) theeues, bitches, and mastiue-whores, to omit their common epithete of salt-bitches. But it is now high time we proceed to the pranks which women haue playd so cunningly with their husbands, that it is not without cause that both Latin and Greeke writers call them thefts: for if adultery (how euer it be committed) may truly be called theft; much more that which is accompanied with such subtilties and sleights.

24 To prosecute therefore the examples of the fine fetches practised by our huswiues in such like thefts, farre surpassing (in my conceit) the wiles and subtil∣ties of our ancestors wiues: I will begin with a sleight which I haue heard at Paris a thousand times, and haue found it since among the narrations of the late Queen of Nauarre, being so famous that it may well be the ring-leader of the dance. A cer∣taine groome of Charles last Duke of Alençon's chamber, hauing intelligence that his wife (much yonger then himselfe) was very familiar with a yong gentleman; being at the first very loth to credite the report, yet at the last he resolued with him∣selfe to trie the truth thereof. Whereupon he fained businesse abroad for two or three dayes: where his wife being loth to let so good an oportunitie slip, without hauing her louers companie, sent for him straight after her husbands departure. But he giuing them not so much time as to be one halfe houre together, returned backe againe, and knocked hard at the doore. She knowing it was her husband, told her louer; who was presently stricken with such a bodily feare, that he would haue giuen all the points at his hose to haue bene gone, and could haue wished himselfe with the man in the Moone. But she willing him to make himselfe ready in all hast, bad him be of good cheare, and let her alone, for she knew a ready way to let him escape without danger. In the meane time her husband continued knoc∣king at the doore, and calling to her as loud as he could. But she turning the deafe eare, made as though she heard nothing, and to colour the matter the better, cal∣led aloud to one of her men, and said, Why do you not rise to cause them to hold their peace, that make such a noise at the doore? Is this a fit houre to come to ho∣nest mens houses? If my husband were at home, they durst not be so bold. Now albeit he cried as loud as he could, Sweet wife open the doore, yet she opened it not till she saw her louer ready, watching fit oportunitie to slip away. Then opening the doore to her husband (who had but one eye) and bidding him (or dissem∣bling rather to bid him) welcome in the kindest melting manner, she began in this sort: Welcome home sweet heart; O how glad am I of your comming? for I had a strange dreame this night, wherewith I was so delighted, that I neuer tooke greater content in all my life: for me thought you had recouered the sight of your eye. Then embracing & kissing him, she tooke him gently by the head, and closing his good eye with her hand, Do you not see (said she) better now then you did be∣fore? And whilest she thus welcomed him home, blindfolding his good eye, she gaue her louer oportunitie to slip away. The said Princesse further reports, how a husband-mans wife hearing that her husband was coming, caused M. Curate (her second husband) to saue himselfe in an vpper loft, by couering the trap doore with a fan: who wearied with staying there so long, looked through the trap doore,

where he espied the womans husband sleeping by the fire; but the great Lout lea∣ned so heauily on the fan (as he stouped downe) that both came tumbling downe together hard by the good man: who awaking at the noise, and asking his wife what it meant; Sweet heart (said she) it is our Curate, who borrowed our fan, and hath now brought it home againe. The simple sot tooke this as a sufficient answer; yet (said he) he returnes it very churlishly, for I was afraid the house would haue fallen vpon my head. She further maketh mention of a maid, who to the end she might more securely enioy the company of her louer, who was seruant in the house with her (which house the Princesse also mentioneth) scared her mistris out of her house (in the absence of her husband) by making her afraid of a kind of spirit called a Hobgoblin. But her husband coming home againe about two yeares after, & finding that his wife had remoued to another house vpon this occasion, brought her backe to her old home, telling her that he would not feare him a whit, though it were the diuel himself. And indeed he playd his part so well, that albeit the spirit (I meane the maide that counterfetted the spirit, who also ouerthrew and tumbled boords, tressels and stooles vp and downe the chamber) buffeted him the first night; yet he made the white diuell pay for it the night following, catching hold of her hand as she began to deale her blowes. Which puts me in mind of a like story which I haue often heard of my deceassed mother, of a maid that serued Ioce∣lin Badius her father, who to scare all out of a certaine roome, whither she vsed to resort to solace her selfe, and spend the time in daliance with a seruing man of the house, counterfetted a spirit; which knauery had not bene detected but by means of the said Badius her master, a man of excellent parts, and great learning for those times, as appeareth by his workes. We reade also in Boccace, that spirits, hobgoblins and such like phantomes, haue holpen women to play the wantons in celebrating these mysteries. And verily since spirits and ghosts left walking by night, wo∣men which followed the occupation haue lost much by the bargaine, seeing this was their last and surest refuge. I remember well, that when I was but a child, a Parisian cosined her husband by meanes of such a Robin good fellow; which knaue∣rie of hers was the argument of a play, which many yeares after I saw acted by the Players of Roane. See here (gentle Reader) how Monks and their mates (I meane their kind Kates) haue benefited themselues and made their trenchers fat (as it is in the French prouerb) with this opinion and perswasion of the common people; at which notwithstanding (since abuses were detected) euen they who before maintained sundry like trumperies with tooth and naile, haue made but a mocke and a matter of merriment. For we are not ignorant what Tragedies the Iacobins of Berne, and the Franciscans of Orleans played by meanes of these spirits, whose helpe notwithstanding in getting new customers, Monks and Priests vsed not, be∣cause the good opinion which men had of their holinesse, did furnish them sufficiently with sundry other deuices, as hereafter shall be declared: which could not for all that (since their knaueries were discouered) helpe them at a dead lift, and serue them as a Delphian sword for all assayes, as in former time. And can we now wonder, that true religion which hath opened mens eyes, and enlightened them with the knowledge of the truth, should haue any more mortall enemies then Priests and whores? Where vnder the name Priests, because Monks shall not complaine that they are forgotten, I include the whole frie and fraternitie of for∣nicating Friers, tag and rag, whether they be blacke, white, or gray.

25 But to returne to our modest matrons: let vs heare how a dame of Siena kept both her owne credite with her husband and Frier Rainalds also, to whom

(although he was her gossip (as being godfather to one of her sonnes) before he became a Frier) she had prostituted her selfe, not once nor twice, but so often, that a man would haue thought she should haue bene cloyed, at least should not haue bene so greedy of such meate. It fortuned that whilest the Frier was with this fil∣thy queane, and his fellow with her maide in a loft of the house, her husband came knocking at the doore, and calling for her. Whereupon she cried out, Alas, I am vndone, it is my husband. Then musing a little with her selfe, she bad the Frier make himselfe ready in all hast, and he should see how finely she would gull her husband, and boare his nose with a cushion. And hauing told him what part he should play in this pageant, she answered him (who was all this while rapping and bouncing at the doore) I come to you sweet heart, I come. (Now here you are to note by the way, that she had layd her child in the same place where the Frier and she had bene dallying together.) And straight she whips out of bed, and had no soo∣ner opened the doore, but she begins in this sort: O husband, wot you what? I had little thought I should euer haue seene this houre, that we should lose our sonne: for except our good gossip Frier Renald (whom God sent hither in this our extre∣mitie) helpe vs, I perswade my selfe we shall neuer see him aliue againe. Her sottish husband had welnigh swounded at the very first: but after a while taking heart a∣gaine, he desired her to tell him what the matter was. Whereupon she like a false queane began to relate euery circumstance in this sort: At the first (said she) I was almost dead to see the child swound in such sort; for I thought he would presently haue giuen vp the ghost, so that I could not tell in the world what to do: but (as God would) M. Renald our good gossip came at the very instant, and taking him in his armes, said, Gossip, the child is sicke of chest wormes, which gnaw vpon his stomacke, and will be his death except he take some remedy for them: but feare not, I will coniure them well enough I warrant you, and that quickly; for before I go hence, you shall see him as well againe as euer he was. And because (said she) we wanted you to say certaine prayers, and that the maide could not find you, he intreated his fellow to say them in an vpper loft; M. Renald and I hauing shut our selues here in this roome, because none but he and the mother of the child may be present at such a mysterie. And I perswade my selfe he hath the child yet in his armes, and stayes onely vpon his fellow, who if he had said his prayers, all were ended, for the child is now well recouered. The simple sot, nothing mistrusting his wiues knauery, sighed deeply and said, he must needs see him. But she fearing lest M. Renald had not bene ready, and in such case that he might not be suspected, said vnto him: O good now, go not in yet, except you wil marre all; stay ••ut a little and I wil see whether you may come in or not, and accordingly I wil call for you. The Frier, who had the child in his armes, and heard their whole discourse, made himselfe ready at his leisure. And when he thought it time to let them in, he called aloud, Ho gossip, did I not heare your husband? The simple cockscombe answe∣red, Yes marry did you Sir. Whereupon M. Renald bad him come in: and compo∣sing his countenance to grauitie, said, Here take your son, whom by Gods good∣nesse I haue recouered; I did verily thinke he would not haue liued till night: but do you heare sir, you must erect a statue of waxe iust of his bignesse to the honour of God before the image of blessed Saint Ambrose, through whose merits our Lord hath shewed you his fauour. He then taking the child in his armes (as though he had taken him out of his graue) began to kisse him, and to thanke his good gossip for this great cure. In the meane time Frier Renalds fellow (to the end he might so play his part, as that it might be answerable to the pageant which he

had heard from the place where he lay hid) came downe from the loft, and told his brother Renald that he had said the foure prayers which he had enioyned him. Which done, the simple fellow made them a banquet of the best wine, with store of preserues and sweet meates; and accompanying them out of his house with a thousand and a thousand thankes, recommended them to Gods protection: and causing a picture to be made in all hast, set it vp among his other pictures before the image of S. Ambrose.

26 Moreouer, we reade of sundry women who haue played strange parts with their husbands, through the counsell and aduice of Priests (or Monks) who had some interest in them; but those I will reserue (as reason requires) to furnish out the legend of Ecclesiasticall vertues here next ensuing, (lest it should be said, that for the great respect I haue of womens credit, I should ascribe that vnto them which of right belongs to Church-men.) To prosecute therefore my former dis∣course (after I shall haue once againe intreated the Reader to pardon me, if I be ouer-tedious in the rehearsall of some of these stories, the better to discouer these damnable deuises, and to breed a lothing and detestation of them, the memory whereof ought otherwise to be buried) I will begin with a fine feate played by a woman of Florence, as it is recorded by two Florentines, who haue written of it almost in the same maner. Whilest this Florentine was with her knaue, there came another, to whom (though sore against her will, yet for certaine respects) she gaue entertainment. She then hearing him come vp the staires, desired him that came first, to hide himselfe behind the bed, till she had sent the second away; whom, be∣cause she could not dismisse so soone as she wished, it so fortuned that her hus∣band came whilest both were with her in the house. Then if euer there was poore womā put to her shifts, it was she, seeing she was to answer for them both at once, and to giue a reason of their comming: and as for the second, he could not chuse but be descried, hauing left his horse in the court, thinking her husband had bene gone from home. What doth she then? Marke the wile of a womans wit: she re∣quested him that came the second, to draw his sword, and with an angry frow∣ning countenance to runne downe the staires, and to say as he went, I vow here before God I will meete with him in some other place: which when he had done (not answering her husband a word, who asked him what the matter was, but that he wold meet with him some where else, which he boūd with a great oath) the good man went vp the staires, and finding his wife at the staires head (pensiue and sore afraid) asked her what the matter was, and why the man whō he met went in such threatning maner? She drawing back towards the chamber; that her knaue behind the bed might heare her, answered, Alas husband I was neuer in such feare in all my life; for here is a yong man within, a stranger whom I neuer saw before, who fled hither to saue himselfe, being pursued by one with a drawne sword. To be short, she handled the matter so cunningly by her prittle prattle (the gallant which lay hid, afterwards affirming that it was so) that whereas she like a villanous queane had done her husband double wrong in one and the same action, yet she made him beleeue that she had done both honestly and wisely, in foreseeing that no such mischiefe should be committed in his house. The good man then hauing inuited the knaue to supper, and furnished him with a good horse, brought him safely to his house to Florence. This was the Florentines feate. Let vs now heare how ano∣ther huswife neare to Florence gulled her husband with the like; which though it may seeme at the first not halfe so cunningly carried as the former, yet it exceeds not onely it, but all the rest I haue remembred: so that I cannot sufficiently wonder

how women should haue such wits & wiles to saue their credit & good name, and in the meane time shold be so ill aduised to hazard the same. But the prouidence of God is much more to be wondred at, in causing these shifts and deuices (inuented to cloke their knaueries) to be the only meanes to discouer them to the world, and propagate them to posteritie: which ought to teach vs to walk before him in feare. This gentle Gillian then hauing hid her varlet vnder the bed, went forthwith to her husband (who came home whē she litle expected) and began to chide him excee∣dingly, telling him that it seemed he was purposed to cōmit her into the sergeants hands, who were but newly departed, hauing ransacked euery corner of the house. The poore man quaking to heare such newes, asked her aduice what was best to be done, cōsidering the gates of the citie were already shut. She told him she knew no better course then to hide himself in the doue-coat: where hauing mewed him vp, & taken away the ladder, to put him in greater feare, she caused her knaue to coun∣terfet the Sergeant, and after he had made a great rumbling noise about the house, she slept with him securely, holding him close prisoner of whō she stood in feare. It were infinite to recount al the sleights and subtilties which are reported of these huswiues (to omit those that are dayly inuented) though I should but only reckon vp such as haue bene plaied at Paris, where notwithstanding women haue no such need of a Robin good fellow to helpe them at a pinch, as in other places, conside∣ring the great libertie (or licence rather) which is granted them. Now as we haue spoken of some theeues more cunning then bold, and of others more bold then cunning: so we haue examples of two sorts of theeuish queanes to instance this kind of theft whereof we now speake. And to begin with their boldnesse and im∣pudencie: I remember a notable example of a woman whom I haue seene sundry times at Paris, who hearing her husband knock at the doore as she was in bed with her louer, would not once stirre a foote, but charged the porter (to whom she had giuen the watchword) that he should not open the doore till he had bene sound∣ly wet a full houre by the clocke, to the end she might enioy her knaues companie the longer, and commit her villanie at her pleasure. Where her silly husband (no∣thing mistrusting such false play) continued crying and calling, Wife open the doore. But the more he cried, the more she cursed, saying, that he laboured but in vaine, and that she was too cunning to be deceiued by such a companion, though he knew wel how to counterfet her husbands voice, threatning him withall, that if he would not be gone, she would crowne him with such a garland as he would not like of. In the end when she thought it fit time (hauing hid her sweet heart) she set the porter to open the doore: to whom notwithstanding she cried out at the win∣dow (to colour the matter the better) Thou knaue, why doest thou open the doore to this ruffian? thou shall answer for this geare. This pageant (being much like to one formerly mentioned) was played at Paris about seuenteene yeares ago.

27 But as the seldome and rare apparition of spirits hath not a little endoma∣ged popish Priests and wanton women: so doubtles both of them haue lost much by the bargaine, since pilgrimages grew out of request, those especially, who be∣cause they could haue no childrē by their husbands, were wont to seek the help of some good Saint. True it is indeed they haue recourse to processiōs also (which are yet in some credit.) But going on pilgrimage (I can tell you) was another manner of matter then going in procession; for our Ladie of vertues would by one means or other make vertues of vices before they came home again. Concerning Priests, I remember a subtill sleight inuented by a woman dwelling neare Amboise, which hath nothing common with the former, being such a deuice as by Gods iudgment

befell the Priest who followed her direction. The story (which is famous amongst fiue hundred) is this: The Curate of Onzain neare to Amboise, perswaded by his hostesse (whō he kindly entertained) to make as though he would be gelded (to preuent the suspition and iealousie of her husband,) and the feate to be done by one M. Peter des Serpens, borne at Villantrois in Berry, sent for his kinsfolks, and ha∣uing told them that though he durst neuer discouer vnto them his maladie, yet he now found his case to stand in such tickle termes, that he was constrained to take that course: whereupon he made his will, and hauing told M. Peter (to colour his knauery the better) that if he chanced to die, he would forgiue him with all his heart (albeit he had secretly agreed with him onely to make a flourish, and for this end had giuen him foure French crownes) he put himselfe into his hands, suffe∣ring himselfe to be bound, and in all points to be handled as one that desired to be cut indeed. But it is to be noted, that as the Priest had agreed with M. Peter onely to make a flourish as though he would do something: so his host (who had intelli∣gence of this pageant) had couenanted with him vnder hand to geld him indeed, promising to giue him twise as much as he had receiued of the Priest to counter∣fet and do nothing: so that being perswaded by him, and hauing this silly sir Iohn at his mercie; after he had strongly bound him with cords and thongs, hand and foote, he went roundly to worke, and shewed him a cast of his office indeed, tel∣ling him withall, that he was not wont to make a mock of his occupation. Lo here into what a pitifull plight this poore Priest was brought through the deuice of this wicked woman, and how going about to deceiue her husband more cunningly then euer he had done before, himself was ouerreached by a cunning deceit, much more preiudiciall to his person. This accident happened about 35. yeares ago. Now this gelding of the Priest puts me in mind of another not vnlike, caused also by a woman, albeit vpō a farre different occasion. For Poggius writeth that there was one in Eugubium a citie in Italy, who being exceeding iealous of his wife, and perceiuing that he could not learne whether she vsed the companie of some other or not, threatned to do her a shrewd turne, and therupon gelded himself; that if af∣terwards she chanced to be with child, she might be conuicted of adultery. And as one narration draweth on another, whilest I was penning the second example, a third came to my mind, caused likewise by a woman, though vpon an occasion differing from both the former, which I would not haue related (it being so ex∣ceeding strange) but that I heard it credibly reported by one who is a deadly ene∣mie to lying and leuitie. The story is this: The bastard of the house of Campois neare to Rōmorantin hauing sollicited a gentlewoman for the space of two yeares, and in the end won her good will: finding himselfe not so disposed to execute his villanie when she yeelded her selfe, as he desired; departed to his lodging at Chabris in such a rage and fury, that hauing got a barbers razor, he cut off his priuities, the indisposition whereof had frustrated him of his hope, and of the fruite of that which he had so long desired: and hauing so done, locked them vp in a cupboord. This accident (as I was informed) happened about fiue and twentie yeares ago. And because it serues so notably to discouer vnto vs what moodie, mad, and furi∣ous spirits this age affoordeth, I wold not omit it no more then the former. Albeit they make mention of two sorts of gelding, which appertaine not to the subtill sleights of women as the former.

28 My purpose was here to haue ended the examples of womens stratagems, but that one comes now to my mind which I cannot omit, though tending to an other end. (Notwithstanding all of them proceed from that spirit which hath euer

bene accustomed to make men the instruments of their owne destruction.) See then as fine and cunning a stratageme as can be deuised (for I hope I may be bold to vse this Greeke word, seeing of late it hath found such good entertainment a∣mongst vs) vsed by a woman of Orleans, to come to the period of her purpose, which was to draw a yong scholler to her lure, with whom she was in loue. For finding not how she might signifie vnto him the great affection which she bare him, she came to seeke her Confessor in the Church, and making as though she were in great perplexitie and distresse, hauing told him vnder colour of con∣fession that there was a yong scholler (to whō she pointed as he walked by chance in the Church, little suspecting such a matter) who ceased not to sollicite her to folly, and so to bring him selfe and her also into a pecke of troubles: she earnestly intreated him to giue him such good counsell as he thought fit and requisite in such a case. And hereupon (as one who fained all this of her fingers) to the end she might draw him to her bower and bed, whom she had falsly accused to haunt her house, she told him in particular what meanes the scholler had vsed, viz. that his manner was to clime ouer the wall in the euening, at such an houre as he knew her husband was abroad, & after that to clime vp into a tree, and so to come in by the window: to be short, that he did thus and thus, vsing these and these meanes, so that she had much ado to saue her selfe. The ghostly father failed not to tell the scholler hereof, vsing such remonstrances as he thought meete. The scholler, albeit his conscience told him that there was not a word true of all that she had said, and that he had not so much as once entertained any such thought: yet made as though he tooke all in good part, as one that stood in need of such reproofe, and thanked the ghostly father. But (as the heart of man is prone to euil) he was not such an asse but that he could imagine that she accused him of that which she desired he should put in practise, considering she had shewed him the way which he was to go, and the meanes he was to vse; whereupon falling from euill to worse, he failed not to go the way which was shewed him. Not long after, the ghostly father (who had dealt in the matter in good earnest) seeing himselfe so cunningly abused, could not containe, but cried out in the open pulpit, There she is, there she is, that made me her bawd.

29 But it were infinite to recount all their daintie deuices, those especially which they vse in this behalfe: yet one thing there is very worthy our considera∣tion, viz. that the false idolatrous religion (compared in holy Scripture to whore∣dome or fornication) hath alwayes bene the principall breeder and nourisher of this vice; and therefore the Catholike Cleargie (as they will needs be called) haue not onely wrought their wits and employed their fiue senses to inuent sleights, as well for themselues as for their paramours (whom they meant to abuse,) but haue vsed for this purpose that which they call diuine seruice, as namely the Masse, the very marrow of their Matins. For it is notoriously knowne, that they vse it ordina∣rily as a bawd. Nay they are come to this passe, to make their midnight Masses, or (for default thereof) their Matins and morow-masses to serue for the same end, for which the Pagans vsed their Sacra bonae Deae. Thus we see how besides these wic∣ked wiles, deuised by our wanton wenches and light-skirted huswiues, many, nay infinite haue bin inuented by the counsel and aduice of these ghostly fathers: who like good Church-men should haue set them in the right way to heauen, whereas they like blind guides, led them the ready way to hell. But I leaue it to thy conside∣ration (gentle Reader) how euen the meale-mouthed Monkes and maidenliest Priests of them all, behaued themselues in priuate; when they were not ashamed

to defend the stewes in publike, euen in their popular sermons: as we haue heard before of Oliuer Maillard, who goeth yet a step further, and alleadgeth a place out of S. Augustine in defence thereof, and would make that holy and learned father beleeue, that he did approue of that which prophane Pagans haue condemned e∣uen by the light of nature: for if we compare the dealing and demeanour of the heathen in this particular with that of many who call themselues Christians, we shall find that they haue dealt Christianly, and Christians heathenishly, that is to say, prophanely. For the heathen punished adultery very seuerely, and for the most part with death it selfe: whereas many Christians (as elsewhere I haue shewed) make but a iest of it, and a matter of meriment. And such are the times, and so great is the corruption of this age, that he that would haue examples of rare chastitie in∣deed, is to seeke them rather in ancient then in moderne stories. And here I re∣member that Baptista Fulgosius hauing recorded a storie of the chastitie of a maide of Alexandria called Pythomene, breakes forth into an exclamation, considering the difference betwixt maids in those times, & those at this day, which I wil set downe after I haue related the history as followeth: Pythomene being a slaue to a citizen of Rome, was so exceeding beautifull and of such excellent behauiour, that the Ro∣mane became in loue with her: but perceiuing that he could not winne her nei∣ther by promises nor by menaces, he began to hate her as much as formerly he had loued her; and thereupon accused her to be a Christian (as in truth she was.) All which notwithstanding, she persisted constant in keeping her chastitie, though it were with enduring a most cruell death, viz. to be sod in boyling pitch. After the recitall of which storie, Fulgosius saith, where are those maides to be found now adayes, who may not well enough blush for shame to reade this historie? sith most are so farre from making resistance when men offer violence (which notwithstan∣ding they might do without danger) as that they leaue father and mother, sister and brother, kinred and acquaintance, yea and expose themselues to infinite dan∣gers, onely to satisfie their beastly lusts: whereas she chose rather to lose her life, then her chastitie. The same author records other like stories▪ which would (no doubt) be accounted very strange, especially to such as make no more of forni∣cation or adultery, but a worke of nature and a tricke of youth.

30 There is yet another strange thing worthy to be obserued, viz. that they who haue such quicke and sharpe wits in contriuing of these sleights (wherein they go farre beyond their auncestors) should on the other side not onely be brutish, but (as it were) blockish and senslesse in matters of common course or ciuill conuer∣sation, especially in things appertaining to their saluation, which are as it were riddles vnto them, and cannot sinke into their heads; and therefore they lie open as a prey to all that will abuse them, as we shal see more at large hereafter. Whereas there is no such subtiltie or sleight but they can easily conceiue it: what say I, con∣ceiue it? nay plot and practise it for the atchieuing of their wicked designements: which I speake not of women onely (albeit I haue alleadged no examples but of them onely) but also of men, who notwithstanding (all things considered) haue not heads to inuent such subtilties as women haue: besides they take libertie to themselues (so great is their corruption) to do that publikely which they con∣demne in women, though it be done neuer so priuatly; as though God had giuen one law for one sexe, and another for the other. Another reason there is why men haue no such great need of these subtilties and sleights, in that many vse force and violence, as we see in rapes, which are committed at this day with greater impuni∣tie then euer they were. Yet when I speake of fine fetches, I must except our good

Catholikes of the Popish Cleargie; who as they haue played sundry iuggling tricks of fast and loose, by meanes of their filthy bawds and bitches, whom they haue v∣sed or rather abused: so haue they done also by their sweet selues. That of a Fran∣ciscan is memorable among the rest, who married his fellow Frier to a rich wi∣dowes daughter (a gentlewoman of Italy) as hereafter shall be declared.

31 But to returne to the fine fetches and subtill sleights of these gentle Gillians: consider here a cunning conueyance which may well be called theft, at leastwise iuggling and double dealing, deuised by certaine huswiues, who knowing them∣selues to be barren, bumbast their bellies with store of linnen cloth and little cushi∣ons (yet so as that they may swell by degrees) and counterfet women with child who haue lost their tast, or are wayward, or long for strange meates, or are heauie and ill at ease; and at the end of nine moneths faine themselues to be deliuered of a child, conueyed secretly from a poore neighbors house, or perhaps from the hos∣pitall. But this is not all. For as these barren Does haue vsed this cunning cariage: so haue they also, who when God sends them a daughter, desire rather a sonne, the better to content and please their husbands. It is well knowne that there was a dame of Dauphiné about fifteene yeares ago, who perceiuing that her husband bare her no great good will, for that she had borne him none but daughters, deui∣sed this sleight to winne his loue again. She dealt with a poore woman, who coun∣ted much about the time with her selfe, and after she had obtained a promise of her that she should haue her child as soone as she was deliuered, and that she had practised all the fetches formerly mentioned (requisite to counterfet a woman in that case) being now to play the last and principall part of the pageant, she no sooner heard that the poore woman was in trauell of childbirth, but she began to grone, to lay her downe vpon her bed, as though the paines of trauell had come vpon her; & thus she continued groning, & waiting for the womans child that was promised her. Which was accordingly brought her by certain midwiues, and that so secretly that her husband did acknowledge it for his owne sonne, and so it was generally holden of the most. But here consider Gods iust iudgement vpon her, viz. that she could neuer set her loue and affection vpon him, nor find in her heart he should haue any thing to do in her house (though by meanes of the foresaid supposition he was left sole heire by his reputed father.) And her hatred against him increasing dayly more and more, in the end grew to that passe that he was constrained to oppose himselfe against her, and to seeke remedie by order of law: where he prosecuted the matter so hotly in following of his right (as being the sole heire) that he called her to account for all the goods that his father had left her. Which did so sting and cut her to the heart, that she went about to compasse his death; at leastwise it is credibly thought that he was murthered by her meanes. But consider another prank which is oftener played by womē with child, who de∣siring to be deliuered of a sonne (to winne the loue of their husbands) make en∣quiry against the time of their trauell for some poore women (who come neare their count) that they may agree with them vpon some reasonable conditions to haue their sonnes, whom they may substitute in stead of their owne, if haply they be deliuered of a daughter. Yet this is not the onely reason why women vse these sleights. But this I say, that those who vse these theeuish practises for the end be∣fore mentioned, are farre more excusable (if any may be excused) then those that practise them to the end they may enioy their husbands goods, and so defraud the right heires. On the other side, there be some who hide their great bellies, that so they may be accounted honest maids or matrons; or lest it should be knowne that

those who are now their husbands, were formerly their harlots. For which pur∣pose vertugals (inuented by curtizan courtiers) serue them excellent well. Where∣upon a certain Franciscan descanted not amisse, who preaching at Paris on a time, said, that when women began to weare vertugals, they abandoned vertue, but the gale remained with them still.

32 And here I wil conclude this Chapter, though I am not ignorant that this argument would affoord store of matter to furnish a more ample discourse, and that I haue omitted sundry particulars appertaining thereunto; as traitors among the rest, who of all other theeues are most to be detested. For doubtles whosoeuer shall seriously consider their plots & practises, shall find them as it were compoun∣ded of all manner of theeuish practises. Nay I dare be bold to say, that he that will make an Anatomy of treason, shall find that it hath sundry veines (as it were) and sinewes of sacriledge, except we shall giue Philosophers the lie, who teach that friendship is a sacred thing, and therfore in no case to be violated: which notwith∣standing traitors do, and that in the first place. Howbeit, I perswade my selfe, that there were not half so many treasons in old time, as there are at this day. Yet herein God is mercifull vnto vs, in that as the number of traitors doth more increase, so doth the senate of wise and deepe-reaching politicians, who firke and firret them out. Whereof I remember I haue read a memorable example in Erasmus his book de Lingua, of Pope Iulius the second his Embassadour, who by speaking two or three words bewrayed himself, at leastwise gaue occasion of suspition, which layd the first ground of his detection. The story, as I haue translated it out of Latin, is this. During mine abode in England, there came an Italian to the Court, sent as Embassadour from Pope Iulius the 2. to moue the King to war against the French. Who after he had deliuered his embassage before the Kings priuy Councell, an∣swer was made him, that his Maiestie was for his part willing and ready to yeeld to his Masters motion; but that it was not so easie a matter to leuie such forces vpō the sodaine, as wherewith he might encounter so puissant a Prince; considering that England by reason of long peace had not bene enured to the warres: In an∣swer wherunto, a word escaped him, which he might well haue kept in; for he said he had told the Pope as much long since: which made the Lords of the Councell suspect that (notwithstanding he were the Popes Embassadour) he fauoured the French faction; whereupon they watched him so well, that they found him con∣ferring by night with the French Embassador: for which fact he was cōmitted to prison, and had all his goods confiscate. Howbeit if he had fallen into the Popes hands, it would haue cost him not only his liuelihood, but also his life. Now these words (so sottishly spoken by the Embassadour) gaue King Henry occasion to ha∣sten the warres: whereas if he had concealed and kept them to himselfe, he might perhaps haue accorded both Princes, and set them at vnitie. This is the story as E∣rasmus relates it, speaking of it as of an accident which fell out during his abode in England; and therefore might haue certaine intelligence thereof, especially con∣sidering his great credit in the Kings Court. And I was the more willing to record it (though onely by the way) for that it affoordeth vs a very rare example of trai∣tors, whose teeth are knocked out of their heads before they can bite: I meane who are discouered before they can atchieue their plots and proiects, or bring their purposes to their period. I say (onely by the way) because my purpose is not so to in∣sist vpon them as to prosecute them to the full: but to content my selfe with that which hath bene spoken, leauing the Reader to search out other examples which he shall iudge fittest for this purpose. A matter of no great difficultie, seeing our

moderne histories are (as it were) full fraught with them. And now I proceed to discouer, and (as it were) to point forth other thefts with the finger, not so easie to be descried. For though I here end this Chapter (which is too long I confesse) yet I do not bid adieu, nor giue a finall farewell to all theeues.

CHAP. XVI. Of the thefts of Merchants, Phisitians, Apo∣thecaries, &c.

HAuing formerly spoken of notable and famous theeues, who being discouered, are straight condemned by the law, and sent to the gal∣lowes, wheresoeuer iustice is rightly executed: It is high time I should now intreate of those who cloke their thefts vnder colour of traf∣fick or trade, office or vocation: or (to speake in a word more plainly) who steale not like theeues, but like merchants, or men of this or that trade and occupation. But before I enter discourse hereof, I must intreate those whose con∣sciences witnesse, that they are not of their number to whom I direct my speech, that they would not go about to make their quarrell good, who shall haply feele themselues to be galled hereby. For I protest, my meaning is not to speake any thing to blemish the reputation of such as walke conscionably in their vo∣cations and callings, and demeane themselues therein as in the presence of God.

2 First then to begin with Merchants, their prouerbe is this, Où marchand, où larron, that is, either a merchan•• or a theefe. Which many seeme to vse as a maske, to the end they may not be discouered in their theeuish knaueries. Others sweare they are losers by selling their wares at this or that price; in the meane while dis∣pensing with their oath, be it neuer so false in the sence they would haue others to vnderstand it: holding it sufficiently warrantable, if in their owne sence and mea∣ning it may passe for truth. For there is another prouerbe which saith, The mer∣chant that is no gainer, is a loser. Whereunto they haue relation, when they sweare that they lose by this or that merchandize. I haue also heard of a starting-hole which certaine of them haue found out, when they sweare they haue refused thus much and thus much, for such and such wares. But I leaue their words, and come to their deeds: for we may easily beware of their words, if we keepe in mind the Italian prouerbe, Non ti sidar & non saray gabato, that is, Trust not, and thou shalt not be deceiued.

3 And seeing that thefts committed in selling of wares, are either in the quan∣titie or qualitie, I will first begin with the quantitie, consisting in weights and measures. And doubtlesse, I were worthy great blame (my conscience would also checke me of vntruth) if I should say that our moderne merchants had forgotten either their cunning counterpoizing of the ballance in weighing, or the quicke dexteritie of the thomb in measuring. Nay they are so farre from yeelding an ace to their ancestors herein, that they are able (in regard of their good proficiencie in the art) to reade a lecture to those mentioned by Oliuer Mayllard, and to teach them diuers subtill sleights and conueyances in weighing and measuring, inuen∣ted since for their owne aduantage. For touching the ballance, some can make it rise and fall as they list, and neuer be perceiued: and as for measuring, they are not

content to vse the trick of the thombe, but of the ell also. And yet without the help of these sleights, they can make it come to their owne reckoning. Witnesse those who hauing some loose cloth, and not well fulled by the list (which is commonly seene in narrow clothes) will be sure in measuring it, not to go farre in the bredth, but measure it in the list as neare as possibly they can. These few examples may suffice for those that vse subtil conueyances in weights and measures. For if I were disposed to busie my selfe with such as giue indeed good weight and large mea∣sure (but it is good weight by their owne weight, and good measure by their own measure, both being false:) besides that I should tell you of a thing not vnknowne to little children, and which is cōmon to this age with the former, I should speake of a theft wherein there is neither subtiltie nor sleight. Neither wil I mention such as bearing men in hand that they sell by a great weight, sell by a small: or making as though they did weigh and measure by the standard of such a citie, weigh and measure by another. Both which belong to quantitie, as hath bene said.

4 Touching the qualitie, I meane thefts committed by falsifying and sophi∣sticating of wares, it is a boundlesse and endlesse argument. First, there is no doubt but that may sleights and cheating trickes haue bene practised heretofore in cor∣rupting and adulterating of wares: and that many are cōmitted at this day, which were neuer discouered before. And besides those that haue bene in former time, and are in vse at this present, many new ones are dayly minted, to be put in pra∣ctise when others chance to be discouered: considering also that one country v∣seth this sleight, another that. And note, that when I say wares or merchandize, I meane generally all such things wherein a man may trafficke, comprizing herein gold and siluer coyned, as being mettals wherein merchants vse to trafficke, as in common wares: besides that they affoord meanes to trafficke in all other commo∣dities. And because my purpose is (among other examles of falsification) to insist in these two mettals, I wil giue them the first place which they seeme to challenge of right: sith not onely all other commodities, but gold and siluer also are falsified, to get gold and siluer. First then we are to know that the falsifying of these mettals is very ancient, as may appeare by certaine Greeke and Latin words seruing to ex∣presse sundry sorts of this deceitfull knauery. Secondly, that as the custome of fal∣sifying mettals is ancient, so the meanes to discouer such deceitfull dealing is as an∣cient, as of gold by the touchstone: whence this French prouerbe grew, which I haue often heard at Paris: Il est de bas or, il craint la touche: He is a counterfet, he is a∣fraid of the touchstone. But how many peeces of gold are there to be seene at this day so cunningly falsified, that they infringe the former prouerbe, in fearing the triall of the touchstone neuer a whit? How many peeces are there to be seene which must be deeply graued into (especially in Portuguizes, and other peeces of the value of halfe a Portuguize, as those of Saltzbourgh) or else melted to discouer the deceit? Moreouer, there was a time when gold was not suspected to be light, vnlesse it were clipped. Whereas now the fairest French crownes which are not clipped at all, are often the lightest, by the cunning of those who haue drawne out their quintessence by washing them. Further, we know how that not long since it was easie to know whether a peece were souldred or charged, whereas now there are some so cunningly souldred, that a man had need to put on his spectacles if he would not be deceiued. And whereas heretofore a counterfet peece of gold and a false peece of siluer (which we call a slip) was neuer so falsified but that it was worth at least the two thirds of the value: they haue now deuised a tricke to confound mettals so cunningly together, that some crownes coyned at this day

are not worth eighteene pence, and some quart d'escus not worth two pence. I am not ignorant that there are diuers other subtill sleights found out to falsifie these mettals, but I hope I haue sufficiently spoken hereof, to giue notice how farre this kind of theft (now in vse) exceeds that which was vsed in the dayes of our aun∣cestors. And I perswade my selfe (if diligent inquiry were made) that Alchymie (which hath bewitched moe at this day then euer it did, euen Princes themselues) would be found to be the true cause thereof. For as for those suiters who spent much time in courting Penelope, were at the last contented to enioy the companie of her waiting maid: so those who could not with their Mercury become so great Lords are they promised themselues, were at the last contented to become false coiners, employing in this fine art all those secrets and mysteries which they had learned in blowing so many yeares together.

5 Hauing now spoken of the falsifying of these two mettals wherewith all sorts of wares and merchandize are bought, seruing also as wares to trafficke in: it will not be amisse in the next place to intreate of such things, the mutuall inter∣course whereof maketh most for the preseruation of mans life. What are these (may some say?) Verily such as serue for backe and belly. The number of which (albeit it be exceeding great and almost infinite, yet amongst those which serue for the nourishment of the body) I will single out such as are sold by the Apothe∣cary, and of such as serue for attire, only woollen clothes and silkes. But here some may haply aske the reason, why I should bid battell to Apothecaries in this parti∣cular, seeing the greatest part of that which they sell, is extraordinary sustenance, seruing rather for the sicke then for the sound? I grant indeed that Apothecaries wares are vsually (and almost onely) for sicke folkes (if we except some licorish mouthes.) But I make choise of them the rather, because the falsifying of them is more dangerous. For whether is more dangerous, to adulterate the meate of one that is in health, or of one that is sicke? Doubtlesse it cannot be denied, but that there is greater peril in corrupting the diet of the sick, then of the sound and health∣full person. If any shall say, that all drugs which Apothecaries sell for the vse of the sicke, are not meates, but being conuerted into nourishment, become most perni∣cious. I answer, that such reasons make rather with me, then against me. For if po∣tions be not ministred for nourishment, but for an Antidote to the disease (which may well be resembled vnto poison) how much greater must the danger needs be in falsifying medicines, then in corrupting of meates? Besides, it is not of late time that men began to crie out against the Apothecaries qui pro quo: and we haue al∣ready heard what sentence Oliuer Maillard hath giuen hereof, where he alleadgeth the prouerbe which was currant in his dayes. But to let them passe with the time past, this I dare affirme for the present, that the abuse then committed as wel in this as in other respects, was neuer comparable to that which is now practised, not so much for want of knowledge as of good conscience (though the error herein committed by our ancestors, may well be imputed to their ignorance.) For doubt∣lesse, neither simple nor compound drugs were so well knowne in the time of the former Preachers, as at this day. But to what end serue the books which instruct vs in the knowledge of them, except we reade them? To what end do the Doctors teach them, if men haue not care to learne them? What is a sicke man the better if his neighbours garden (who is very curious in searching out of strange herbes) be full of that simple whereof he stands in need, if the Apothecary minister some other vnto him which will proue perhaps as hurtful as the right would haue bene healthfull? To what end serues trafficke (which is now greater then euer) if Apo∣thecaries

make no conscience to carry rotten and mouldie drugs to the sick, and as long as they haue any such, neuer take thought for a new supply? Besides, to what purpose is it to haue a learned Phisition and fortunate in his practise, if his receipt fall into the hands of an Apothecary that cannot reade it? I hope Apothecaries are not so straight laced, but that they will grant that there are many of their trade who haue much ado sometimes to reade the prescripts of Phisitions. Of mine owne knowledge I can say thus much, that being in place where an Apothecary was perusing a receipt, I perceiued that he read a cleane contrary thing to that which a few dayes before I had learned at one of Master Syluius his lectures: and thereupon wagering with him touching the particular wherein I found the con∣trarietie, we referred it to the Phisition who had prescribed the receipt: who ha∣uing demaunded of the Apothecary, whether he were not ashamed to make a question of the truth of my assertion, affirmed that the Phisicke so ordered as the Apothecary had intended, wold haue bene his patients death, though he had had a thousand liues. I haue also heard it reported by a very skilful and honest Apothe∣cary, that himselfe heard an Apothecary at Blois, in stead of Agarici optimi (mentio∣ned in the Phisitions prescript, and written with an abbreuiation (as the maner is) Agarici opti with a dash) read Agarici opij: which opium together with other drugs, wrought in the patient so contrary an effect to the Phisitions expectation, that ex∣cept his skil and prouident foresight had espied the error and preuented it in time, it would haue proued the poore patients last sicknesse. But because (when any ob∣iect against them this their accustomed kind of qui pro quo) they answer that they follow the example or practise of auncient writers, and do as those who in the ab∣sence of the Parson go to the Curate (as it is in the French prouerb) I would gladly request their further answer to this question, viz. whom they imitate of all the an∣cient Grecians, Latins, or Arabians, and how their comparison can stand, when in stead of an hot herbe or drug, they take one of a cold operation, and contrarily: And in stead of a drier they vse a moister: and in stead of a looser, a binder? &c. For I am not ignorant that the ancient Grecians haue written a catalogue of cer∣taine drugs which might in case of necessitie be vsed in stead of others: howbeit they did it not without examining the correspondence of their qualities; in which point these hucksters follow them not. For proofe whereof, I wold gladly see them answer Matthiolus, who reckoneth vp a number of simples which they vse, mis∣taking one for another, and others which they falsifie and sophisticate by their mixtures and blendings. But thus it is, vnlearned Apothecaries wil be sure to make no reply, but will pull in their hornes, and say, that they do as they haue seene o∣thers do. Others who haue studied the nature of simples (though slenderly, God knowes) will not sticke to compare with such a learned man as Matthiolus was: nay some of them are not ashamed to preferre themselues before him, and to brag that they know some one herbe better then he did: and further, that they do no∣thing in vsing their qui pro quo, but they can giue a reason for it. To be short, they cloke their negligence or couetousnesse, or both, with certaine flight and triuiall questions, which they moue vpon some simples, presuming like Empericks vpon some experimentall skill which they arrogate to themselues: but poore patients (who in the meane time die in their hands, and pay withall for the pins) appeale from such skill.

6 But leauing this their qui pro quo, wherewith they cloke and colour their knaueries (though it may be truly said that they dance but in a net, and couer them selues but with fig-leaues) I will come in the next place to their other sleights,

which though they be not so commonly practised, yet are such, as that those who are taken tardie in them, may assure themselues that processe is already out to at∣tach them, if it be in place where iustice is rightly executed. And first I will begin with Saffron, concerning which Maillard complaines of such as vsed to moisten it, to the end it might be the heauier, and of those that mingled oile with it▪ fol. 66. col. 3. Nunquid ponitis oleum in croco ad dandum sibi colorem & pondus? He had spo∣ken before of this wicked custom of moistning not only bags of saffron, but also of ginger, pepper and cinnamon, fol. 27. col. 2. Et vos qui ponitïs bags gingiberis, piperis, croci, canellae (& sic de alijs aromaticis rebus) infra caueā super terrā, vt magis ponderent. His former words are these: Et vos Apothecarij qui ponitis gingiber ad faciendum species, nunquid consilium datis seruitoribus vestris ita faciendi? And in the place which I first alledged, he saith of the same abuse. Habetis gingiber, nunquid permu∣tatis cum canella ad faciendum species? These are (as I remember) the greatest com∣plaints which this preacher taketh vp against Apothecaries and Grocers of those dayes. But (alas) if he were now liuing to see the demeanour•• of some of them, he might well say that he complained without cause. For what is it (I beseech you) in comparison of that which is practised at this day? especially since the custome hath bene euery where so rife, to sell bags of spices ready garbled? who knoweth not that they dust ocre into it, and peeces of bricks beaten small, and oftentimes rice, coriander, and crusts of bread, to helpe the colour? And lest spices by such mixtures should lose the strength and sharpnesse, they mingle pepper of Callicut (commonly called Guinnie pepper) therewith: as also halfe graines of paradice, with poudred pepper, and beaten almonds with saffron. They also falsifie Scam∣monie sundry wayes. And as for Theriack (called Triacle) many Apothecaries take any rotten drugs of their shops that come first to hand, and hauing well bea∣ten them, put inke vnto them to helpe the colour. In a word, there is not so much as Muskand Amber, which they sophisticate not. Besides, they put hot herbes into certaine salues and ointments in stead of cold. But I will referre other falsifyings or sophistications to be deciphered by those of whom I haue learned those alrea∣die mentioned, contenting my selfe with this which hath bin said, which may suf∣fice to giue warning thereof.

7 There is yet another dangerous qui pro quo, where they put the dose of one drug for the dose of another, as when in stead of sixe drammes of a drugge which is lesse laxatiue, and two of that which is more, they put the cleane con∣trarie.

8 I proceed now to another kind of qui pro quo, more practised (I take it) in these dayes then euer it was by our ancestors, especially considering that Maillard maketh no mention thereof. What may this be, may some say? Verily when they minister to a man, phisicke prescribed for a woman, and contrarily: likewise to a yong man phisicke for an old man, and to an old man phisicke for a yong man: to one that is sicke of the dropsie, phisicke for one in a consumption, & contrà. Whereof a yong gentleman of Sauoy could giue sufficient testimony, to whom they ministred on his mariage day a potion prescribed for one that had a feuer, in stead of a drinke which should haue made him more lustie and frolicke; so that being in bed with his bride, he was constrained to purge all the night long the contrary way. But he at Lyons scaped not at so easie a rate: for a barber hauing gi∣uen him a bottle full of aqua fortis (which he had taken out of a cupboord in the night, in stead of another water) and the patient hauing drunke it, it brought him to his end in lesse then foure and twentie houres; which accident happened about

sixe and twentie yeares ago. Now if any shall aske what theft Apothecaries com∣mit herein? I answer, that whosoeuer performes not his dutie in his trade, and yet taketh mony as though he performed it, is a theef; whether the fault proceed from his insufficiencie and want of requisite knowledge, or from carelesnesse by reason of a cheuerell conscience. But I shall not need (I hope) to speake further of this matter, to proue that our age deserues to beare away the bell as well in this as in o∣ther thefts: neither is it my meaning that my former discourse should any way cracke the credit of those who attend vpon their callings as they ought, but ra∣ther to bring them in greater credite with such as feare to fall into the hands of such like hucksters.

9 But I might haply be suspected to haue dealt vnder hand with Phisitions, if I should spare to speake of them, hauing spoken so largely of Apothecaries. I wil therefore (to take away all such suspition) enter some discourse of them also, be∣ginning with that which I heard related in my fathers house at Paris in the audience of many, by a doctor of Phisicke, a man of good account (although this his relation did not a little blemish his reputation in the iudgment of all that heard him.) I had (said he) a fat Abbot in cure, and had brought him to so good a passe, that I could easily haue recouered him in a short time; but well perceiuing that whereas in the strength of his disease he promised mountaines of gold, with abatement of his paine he abated the promised and deserued reward, scarcely af∣foording me a merry looke or a faire word of any reasonable contentment: I took this course for mine owne satisfaction: I told him that I doubted a dangerous re∣lapse, which would proue worse then the disease, and that I saw euident symp∣tomes thereof, and therefore that it was necessary he should take another potion to preuent the worst. So I prepared and deliuered it, and it wrought the wished effect so wel, that, within two houres after, he found he had reckoned all this while without his host, and stood in greater need of me then euer before. Being in this pitifull plight, he sent for me againe and againe: but as he had bene forgetfull to content me, so was I vnwilling to pleasure him. I was (at least would be) otherwise employed. At last comes one of his men, who greasing my fist reasonably well, told me that his master intreated me for Gods sake to visite him, thinking verily he should neuer escape. This fellow hauing vsed the onely meanes to dispatch my businesse, intreated so well, that I went to the Abbot, whom within three dayes I recouered again, and made him as merry as Pope Iohn, neither did he afterwards sticke to regreet me with the said siluer salutation. This is the story, almost word for word as himselfe reported it, not thinking to disgrace himselfe any whit there∣by (though he did to his losse, as he well perceiued afterwards, wishing, with a hun∣dred lashes well set on, he might retract his ouer lauish disclosing of it, which so nearely concerned both his credite and commoditie:) but imagining that those which heard him did little fauour the Monkish fraternitie, he thought (belike) their dislike of them and their bad dealings, would haue moued them to fauour his folly, or at least to dispence with his cheuerel conscience in abusing the Abbot, and so mickle mirth would haue ensued thereon. But it was the will of God that the testimony which he gaue against himselfe should not be forgotten. Now then consider (gentle Reader) in what a dangerous case those patients are which fall into such mens hands. For if when they vse all their skill and knowledge, yea and all their conscience, they often hurt intending to heale, not knowing what they haue done till it be past remedie. What a lamentable thing is it, when of set pur∣pose they hazard the liues of their patients, onely to trie some paradoxicall receipt,

which they haue haply dreamed of? and (which is worse) when they purposely intend (the toy so taking them in the head) to wreake some reuengefull humour vpon those whom they haue in their hands, as when the barber holds the razor to a mans throate? But leauing this argument (as belonging to the tractate of mur∣der rather thē to this of theft) I wil speake only of those, who the more they fat the churchyard, the more they fill their purses, cloking their ignorance with arrogancy and impudencie. For I perswade my selfe that this age and that last past, will better furnish vs with examples of the greedy couetousnesse and blockish ignorance of Phisitions, then any of the former. First therefore concerning couetousnes, where can a man find the like to that of one called Petrus Aponus or Petrus de Apono, pro∣fessor of Phisicke at Bononia, who would neuer go out of the citie to visit any pa∣tient vnder fiftie French crownes a day: and being vpon a time sent for by the Pope, before he would go, he bargained for foure hundred French crownes the day. Which puts me in mind of that which Philip Commineus recordeth of a Phi∣sition called M. Iames Cottier, to whom King Lewis the eleuenth gaue fiftie foure thousand French crownes in ready mony (which was aboue the rate of ten thou∣sand French crownes a moneth) besides he gaue vnto his nephew the Bishoprick of Amiens, and diuers offices and lands to him and his friends: where he to recom∣pence the King for these so great fauours, vsed him as if he had bene his slaue, gi∣uing him such hard and outragious words as a master would hardly giue his ser∣uant. But I will here set downe the historiographers owne words, who (as it is wel knowne) is famous aboue al that haue written the French storie••, as being accoun∣ted another Thucydides. These therefore are his words in the Chapter where he sheweth how he suspected all men a little before his death.

He had (saith he) a Phi∣sition called M. Iames Cottier, to whom he gaue for fiue moneths 54. thousand French crownes in ready mony, which was after the rate of ten thousand crowns a moneth, and foure thousand ouerplus: besides he gaue the Bishoprick of Amiens to his nephew, and other offices and lands to him and his friends. The said Phisi∣tion vsed the King so roughly with hard outragious words, as no man would haue vsed his seruant. Moreouer the King was so afraid of him, that he durst not turne him away (telling many how it grieued him.) Howbeit he durst not aduen∣ture to cast him off, as he did all his other seruants; because he told him boldly, I know (saith he) you will shortly turne me off, as you do your other seruants, but (by a great oath he swore) if you do it, you shall neuer liue a weeke after. These words did so exceedingly terrifie the King, that he neuer left flattering of him, and giuing him what he would demaund; which was a great purgatory for him in this world, considering the great obeisance so many great Lords and men of worth had done vnto him.

See here what this historian reporteth of this phisition: who in two other places maketh expresse mention of ten thousand French crownes which he monethly receiued. These few examples will make vs lesse to wonder at that which Froissart reporteth of a Phisition called M. William of Harsely, who cured the French King Charles the sixt, and restored him both to his wit & health; how that he died worth three thousand pounds in ready mony. But it shall not be amisse to alleadge the words of the historian, seeing he speaketh as wel of the coue∣tousnesse of Phisitions in generall, as of the said William in particular. For hauing spoken of this his great cure, he further addeth,

that it was thought expedient and requisite stil to retaine this William of Harsely in the Court, and fully to satisfie him to his contentment: (for this is the period of Phisitions purposes, to catch the re∣wards, and to pocket vp the gifts of Lords and Ladies, great ones especially, whom

they visit and haue in cure.) Well, they intreated him to make his abode with the King; but he requested them to hold him excused, saying he was old, weake, and crazed, and could hardly accommodate himselfe to the fashions of the Court: in a word, that he would returne to his owne home. They perceiuing him inexora∣ble, would not retaine him perforce, but suffered him to depart, with a faire re∣ward of a thousand crownes in gold; offering him moreouer, that if it would please him to make his repaire to the Court, he should be furnished with foure horses at the Kings cost, when he thought good. But I suppose he neuer came thi∣ther after. For being come to Laon (where his most abode was) death intercepted his returne. He died very rich, leauing behind him the summe of three thousand pounds in ready mony. In his life he was most miserable, taking pleasure in no∣thing but in treasuring vp store of Ark-Angels: his expences in housekeeping vsu∣ally not amounting the summe of two pence halfepenie the day, (for he would make bold with his neighbours for his diet.)

All Phisitians are sicke of the same disease.

10 But I may not ouer-passe one who hath surpassed (I suppose) not onely the rest of that profession, but the rest of that qualitie, I meane of that couetous disposition (who died nine yeares since or thereabout) called Iacobus Syluius: one of whose tricks shall suffice to giue a tast of the rest. He was a man endued with most profound knowledge in Phisicke, and an admirable dexteritie in deliuery of his mind, so that he could speake readily as good and pure Latin, as his profession would permit: in a word, he was so rarely accomplished in regard of the Theorick, that if it had bin seconded by practise, he might wel haue bin reputed another Ga∣len. But cursed couetousnes had so possessed and poisoned his heart, and had made him so to forget God and all goodnesse, that whereas (to manifest his gratitude to the giuer of those gifts) he should haue taught some poore schollers priuatly for the publick good: he contrariwise would not permit so much as fiue or sixe poore schollers to heare his publicke lecture gratis, no not among two or three hundred who payed him monethly a quart d'escu a peece. Nay, it strooke him to the heart to see at his lecture (in the Colledge of Tricquet in Paris, where he vsed to reade before he was the Kings professor) two poore schollers who had payed him no∣thing; so that he commaunded them forthwith to get them gone: which they be∣ing vnwilling to do, he told the rest, that except they thrust them forth, he would not proceed. Which I report not vpon hearesay, but as being an eye and eare-wit∣nesse thereof. This fact was thought so strange, that a Scot (least he should vn∣prouided for at his death, which happened 〈◊〉〈◊〉 till long after) made him an Epi∣taph, in a distich of excellent good grace, to expresse this his couetous disposition, which brought him into so great disgrace. The distich is this:

Syluius hic situs est, gratis qui nil dedit vnquam: Mortuus &, gratis quòd legis ista, dolet.

That is, (as I haue turned it)

Syluius lies here in this graue, That neuer any thing gratis gaue: And still it grieues him being dead, His Epitaph may be gratis read.

But besides his intollerable couetousnesse, he had this bad qualitie, to enuie the students of his profession, seeming to affect nothing more then to bring them to a dislike thereof. For proofe whereof I might here alleadge the oration which he made at his first and second lecture, when he was aduanced to be the Kings pro∣fessor.

But that I remember he wold often say, that a man could not be a Phisition without the knowledge of all arts and sciences; and that it was absolutely necessary he should be of a good and strong constitution. Yea, that it was meere madnesse for poore schollers to studie Phisicke: alleadging for this purpose (besides sundry other arguments) the saying of Iuuenal:

Haud temerè emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat Res angusta domi.

It being requisite (and that for many reasons) that students in this art should haue wherewith to maintaine themselues. But no more of this man. To come therefore to the couetous humors of others of his profession: we haue already recorded the storie of King Lewis his Phisition (as we found it in Philip Commineus) in whom this vice (as we haue heard) was accompanied with incredible arrogancie: yet those who haue read the story of a Phisition of * 1.13 Sarragose in Sicilie (called Mene∣crates) will not thinke it altogether incredible: for he was not ashamed, when he writ to any Prince, to stile himselfe Menecrates, otherwise God Iupiter. This Epistle among others he writ to Philip of Macedon, father to Alexander the great:

Thou art King of Macedonia, and I am King of the Art of Phisicke: thou mayst (if thou wilt) put those to death that are in health, and I can saue the life of such as are sicke, and to the healthfull I can giue long life without sicknesse. Therefore the Macedonians which are liuing are thy subiects; but those that shal liue, are mine. For I Iupiter giue them life.

To this King Philip answered very fitly and finely in a word; which being translated into English, cannot haue the like grace that it hath in Greeke. For all his Letter was nothing else but a salutation, which the Grecians were wont to vse when they writ to any, wishing them all health; as if he should say, Philip vnto Menecrates wisheth all health: there being an equiuocation in the salutatiō; for he referred that to the health of the mind, which seemed to be spokē (as it is cōmonly taken) of the health of the bodie: as though he should haue said, This shall suffice for a full answer, that thy braine is out of temper. But let vs heare another manner of brauado vsed by this diuellish Phisition, who would needs be called God. For seeing none but he (as himselfe bragged) could cure certaine disea∣ses which were thought to be incurable; he bound his patients, that for the benefit of their health once recouered, they should euer after obey and serue him as slaues and vassals: which they did, all yeelding their sworne seruice to their said Soue∣raigne; and in their seuerall habits, one like Hercules, another like Apollo, a third like Mercurie, another like Aesculape, some like one god, and some like another, at∣tended on this iolly Iupiter clothed in his royalties. But as the answer of King Phi∣lip wel befitted this glorious foole; so the seruice he did him afterwards, no lesse became his godhead. For, hauing inuited him to supper with all the gods of his re∣tinue, in stead of such meats as others which sate at the table with him were serued with, he caused oblations to be offered vpon their table (whereon an altar was ere∣cted) and store of perfumes, frankincense, and sweete odours to be burned before them: which when these new gods saw, they stole away one by one, monstrously ashamed, but more an hungred. We further reade in Ctesias of a Phisitiō who had such a conceit of himselfe, that he presumed to make the daughter of a King of Persia his lemman, vnder colour of curing her of a disease. As also in other histori∣ans, how that certaine Phisitions vnder the like colour abused diuers Romane La∣dies. Now let the Reader consider how many honest men may be made cuckolds by this meanes. True it is indeed, that a taylor of Florence (thus abused by a Phi∣sition) was kindly reuenged of him for this iniury: for coming home and finding

his wife weeping and exceedingly perplexed for the outrage which the Phisitian (intreated by him to visit her) had done vnto her neuer making shew or sem∣blance that he knew of any such thing, he went to the Phisitians house about a weeke after, when he was from home; and taking a faire peece of cloth with him, brought it to his wife, telling her that he was sent to take measure of her for a peti∣coate; whereupon she going with him into a by-roome to vndresse her selfe, he vsed her, as her husband had vsed his wife. But to returne to couetousnesse, one of the two vices wherewith I began this present discourse; is it not strange to con∣sider that there should be such couetous Phisitians at this day, as are not ashamed to importune and sollicite their patients (being as yet in no danger of death) to make them their heires, though no soule sibbe vnto them? And is it not yet more strange, that they should so inueigle them as to obtaine it of them.

11 I come in the next place to the ignorance of those horseleaches which take vpon them the profession of Phisicke: an argument so large and ample, that it might furnish vs with sufficient matter to fill vp a large volume, being also common to this age with the former. But I dare boldly affirme, that it is so much the more admirable and lesse excusable in this then in the former, in that the light of learning shineth now more clearely then it did in former time: or (to speake more properly) in that the palpable darknesse of those times is now turned into a bright Sun shine. For if euer there were art or science poorely arrayed, and piti∣fully handled, doubtlesse it may truly be said of Phisicke aboue the rest: on the o∣ther side, if euer there were art or science richly decked, beautified, adorned, and restored to it former splendor and dignitie; Phisicke questionlesse hath the pricke and the prise: especially since students began to draw that out of the cleare foun∣taines, which they had taken before out of troubled streames; considering also that many stand in no need of interpreters to expound their teachers. What a shame is it then (for I am ashamed to vtter it) to heare some Phisitians euen at this day call a clyster a cryster? For if it do not become a poore tradesman, who neuer learned his A, B, C; and if being pronounced by him, it sound harshly in the eares of such as haue but onely learned to speake in some tollerable manner: what eares (but those of an asse) can endure to heare it thus pronounced by those who do not onely professe this science, but enrich and raise themselues thereby? And let the Reader consider how they pronounce other words, who are so barbarous in this which is so common, and how they vse them crisse-crosse and kim kam. But what is it to me (may some say) though a Phisitian be ignorant of the trickes and termes of art, so he be skilfull in his profession? I grant indeed, that ignorance of the termes might well be borne with, if it were so: yet thus much I dare say, that those who are barbarous in the termes of Phisicke, do commonly practise the Art barbarously. (Howbeit when I speake of the barbarousnesse of the tongue, I in∣clude not the Arabian herein, so it remaine entire and in his puritie.) But how (I beseech you) should they be good practitioners in Phisick, who are not only igno∣rant of the terms, but of the very things themselues belonging to the Art signified by these termes? For example, though a Phisitian could not giue the proper name to such or such an herbe, it were not greatly material, so he knew it, and could shew it (if need were) to the ignorant Apothecary. But how should they do this, when as many who know the right names of simples, and who in all reason should haue more knowledge then any Apothecary, content themselues with this, that their Apothecaries know them? So that whereas they should controll Apothecaries, they are often controlled euen by Apothecaries themselues. Nay, some are so im∣pudent,

that they sticke not to say, that the knowledge of simples belongeth not to their profession, and that they must needs trust Apothecaries therein. Wherein (me thinkes) they do as one, who giuing good aduice, should leaue it to be practi∣sed by the first commer, not knowing whether he were able to performe it or not. For vndoubtedly the good receipt of a Phisitian, is a good aduice which he giueth his sick patiēt. But what a miserable thing is it, if he must trust an Apothecary ther∣with, himselfe being not able to iudge whether he do well or ill: nay, being alto∣gether ignorant whether in stead of vsing such or such simples which are soue∣raigne and medicinall, he vse others which are dangerous and mortall? And I would gladly aske them (if I thought they would answer me) what name they best deserue in the opinion of the most competent Iudges that euer were, to wit, Hip∣pocrates and Galen; who are neither good Herbalists nor Anatomists? For if in an∣cient time they thought it absurd to separate Chirurgery from Phisicke (seeing that a Chirurgeon, to speake properly and according to the Etymologie of the word, is nothing else but a Phisitian that worketh with the hand) what shall we say of those Phisitians who haue no care to know either the fabricke and frame of the body, or the nature and qualitie of those drugs and simples which they prescribe? but leaue the one to Anatomists, the other to those whom they call Herbalists. Neuerthelesse I am not ignorant that these different offices are not vsed euery where. Howbeit I perswade my selfe that all truly ingenuous who are not forestal∣led with a preiudicate opinion, will grant me that there are many to be found al∣most in euery place, who take vpon them the practise of Phisicke, and yet haue need of such officers and attendants to trot after their tailes (if I may vse so home∣ly a phrase.)

12 I proceed now to other practises of ignorant Phisitians, no lesse dange∣rously pernicious then impudently audacious. Some there be that bargaine with Apothecaries to keepe the receipts of learned Phisitians, and to write in euery of them for what disease it was prescribed. Then, not considering whether their pati∣ents sicknesse proceed from the like cause, whether they be of the same tempera∣ture and age, and keepe the same diet; nay, not respecting whether the patient be a man or a woman, cause them to swallow the same pilles, and to drinke the same potions. Others vse the receipts of ancient Phisitians, hauing no regard of our cli∣mate and maner of life, altogether differing from theirs. Others follow their owne appetite in prescribing their patients a diet of such or such meats▪ so that a Phisitian who naturally loueth or misliketh these or these meates, will prescribe them or forbid them his patients accordingly. Others againe, being afraid to lose their re∣putation, prescribe presently vpon the first view of the vrine, not asking wherof the patient doth complaine: albeit many learned Phisitians acknowledge that a man ought not to trust too much to the crisis of the vrine, but to vse it onely as a help, being ioyntly considered with other symptomes. And if the learned haue small insight into vrines (as themselues confesse) how skilfull are the ignorant therein, may we thinke? Verily we assure our selues that they haue no skill in them at all: yet they are the men (forsooth) who as soone as they haue looked vpon the vrine, straight put pen to paper, to prescribe some receipt for their patients, without any further inquiry after such symptoms as might bring them to the knowledge of the disease. At least, that Phisitian ought ingeniously to haue acknowledged himselfe to haue bin altogether blind in such matters, or to haue put on a false paire of spe∣ctacles; who when one brought him a mans state, and told him that it was a wo∣mans who was thought to be with child; answered, that he knew very well by

her vrine, that she was with childe indeed, and that she might assure her selfe thereof.

13 But leauing their other deuices to be discussed by those who haue more lea∣sure then my self, I will speake a word or two of Barbers & Chirurgians: yet recor∣ding no extraordinary thing, but onely that which many vpbraid them with and lay in their dish, viz. how they deferre that to the twentieth or thirtieth dressing, which they might haue applied at the third or fourth, keeping the wound fresh & greene, yea sometimes renewing them in steed of consolidating and healing them; as also how their grosse ignorance is often the cause of the cutting off of an arme or a leg. Moreouer I were greatly to blame, if I should not hold them as barbarous (at least in their kind) as the Phisitions formerly mentioned. Now this puts me in minde of a Barber who after he had cupped me (as the Phisitian had prescribed) to turne away a Catarrhe, asked me if I would be sacrificed. Sacrificed said I? did the Phisition tell you any such thing? No, (quoth he) but I haue sacrificed many, who haue bene the better for it. Then musing a little with my selfe, I told him, Surely (Sir) you mistake your self, you meane scarified. O Sir, by your fauour (quoth he) I haue euer heard it called sacrificing, and as for scarifying I neuer heard it before. In a word, I could by no means perswade him, but that it was the Barbers office to sa∣crifice men. Since which time, I neuer saw any man in a Barbers hands, but that sa∣crificing Barber came to my mind. But seeing their ignorance & blockishnes may be sufficiently discouered by such like errors, I will not prosecute this argument any further: but onely call to mind that which hath bene said, how I hold them no better then theeues, who being vnskilfull in their profession, make no conscience to take the reward due onely to such as are expert and skilfull in the Art. And veri∣ly, if we looke a little more narrowly into the matter, we shall finde them to be no simple theeues, but theeues in graine, seeing by their ignorance they depriue those of their liues, whom they had formerly bereft of their money. Now all this which hath bene spoken, makes not a litle for the credit and benefite of such as are Artists indeed, and practise it faithfully (whether they be Phisitions or Surgeons, Barbers or Apothecaries) to the end they may be more carefully sought after: and on the other side that such horseleeches may the better be shunned and auoided.

14 Concerning the second thing which I propounded to speake of, viz. cōmo∣dities or wares seruing to cloath the body: doubtles the subtil deuices inuented to falsifie them, are neither so many nor so dangerous. And as I haue spokē summarily of the former, so wil I speak as briefly of this, and wil only mention (as I promised) certaine fraudulent dealings practised in wollen clothes and silks, to the end I may shew that our age could teach the former wherein Oliuer Maillard liued, some trick or other of cūning conueyance as wel in this as in other particulars. And first I wil begin with Merchants, who not content (by their subtill maner of measuring for∣merly spoken of) to get vpon the measure, haue deuised a way to falsify clothes in re∣gard of the matter, putting in flocks in steed of woll: so that wheras chapmen think they haue their cloth of like woll within, as it apeareth to be without; they find by experiēce (after they haue worn it but a litle) that they bought plain flocked cloth. Now vnder the name Merchant I comprehend Clothiers, vsing the word in a ge∣neral acception: and though there were nothing else, the common french prouerb confirmeth it, which saith: Il fait assez qui fait faire. So that if I should speake of the deceit vsed in dying, I thinke I should offer Merchants no wrong to lay it to their charge. For though all false Diuers haue not the watchword from Merchants: yet, as if there were no receiuers, there would be no theeues; so if Merchants would re∣ceiue

no wares but good and merchātable, doubtlesse Clothiers and dyers would not falsifie them. If they shall answer, that themselues are the first that are deceiued: I answer again, that if they be not skilful in their trade, they shold shut vp shop. But to proceed to another argument; what will they say (trow we) to that late deuice in coyning of new phrases and formes of speech, and making them go for currant almost in euery mans mouth; whereby we are drawne to acknowledge that we re∣ceiue better wares of thē then indeed we do? I wil instance & exemplifie this with the stuffe which they call Florence Searge, and will speake of it as of a thing which I learned to mine owne cost. About ten yeares ago when men spake of Florence Searge, they ment such as was right Florence Searge indeed, made in that citie; but since that time, they haue caused counterfeit Searge to be made very like vnto it, which at the first they called Searge after the fashion of Florence (by which no man could be deceiued.) Howbeit they haue by little and little through long custome left out these words: After the manner, and haue called it in plaine termes Florence Serge for breuity sake; which abridging or rather clipping the kings English makes much for the profite of the seller and the cost of the buyer. I meane, when a Mer∣chant of a good large conscience meeteth with a chapman, who is vnacquainted with this new stile. Which thing I confes happened vnto me whē this new phrase came first in vse, and therefore I said I would speake of it, as of a thing which I lear∣ned to mine own cost. For hauing sometimes bought Florence Searge at Florence, and knowing it to be very excellent good stuffe indeed, I had euer after a mind to weare it, and no other, if it might be had for money. Meeting therfore with a Mer∣chant, who found Florence in France, I quickly agreed of the price, (though it was very deare) and departed glad of the bargaine. But he met with me, and not I with him: for after that I had worne a short cloake (which I made of it) some few dayes, I perceiued that I had not found Florence in France: and then you may assure your selfe, I was not mute nor tongue tied, when I came to expostulate the matter with my Merchant for the cheating tricke he had plaied me: who seeing he could not denie it, vsed no other excuse, but that it was the vsuall manner of speech. And what should a man say to this geare, (to speake Maillard-like) but Ad triginta mille diabolos talem modum loquendi? Now albeit I haue instanced in this one ex∣ample of Searge, yet it is not without a felow; sure I am that Spanish felts may beare it company. For the case is not alike with these wares, as with those which they say were brought a hundred, two hundred, or three hūdred miles off; albeit they were made but two or three houses off: but they are on the sure side of the hedge. For if they tell one that knoweth it not, that it is Florence Searge, it will be sold for Flo∣rence Searge: and if they tel another that knoweth it, they will answer him straight, it is the common and vsuall phrase of speech: the like may be said of Spanish felts.

15 Notwithstanding I were to blame, if I should say that Silkmen are not as wit∣ty as wollen Clothiers. Nay contrarily I perswade my selfe that by how much silk threeds are finer then wollen threeds: by so much are silke-mens wits more fine & subtill to deuise cūning sleights to deceiue. For first as wollen clothiers flock their cloath: so silke-men weaue crewell with their veluet, which is to silke as flocks are to wooll. Nay, I haue heard that the ground of some of their veluet is plain threed. But they haue a trick which clothiers haue not; for by steeping them in water, they make them seeme more substantiall and better wrought then indeed they are. And if they can play the merchants so well in veluet by meanes of the water, they can do it much more in Satin by the same means. As for Taffata, they steepe it not only

in water, whereby they deceiue, but haue a further deuice, whereby they make a peece of Taffata which hath but two threeds, seeme as though it had foure, that which hath foure, as though it had sixe, that which hath sixe, as though it had eight, and that which hath eight, as though it had twelue: So that for ten elles of Taffata which is right grograine indeed, and wrought as it should be, you shall haue ten peeces of counterfeit. Farther, we are to note that as Florence Searge which is sold in other countreyes to them that know not what belongeth vnto it, goeth for Florence Searge, but to them that are acquainted with it, is sold for Searge made after the manner of Florence: so the Satin which they call Satin of Bruges, is but vne hapelourde (as the French man speaketh) that is, a false and coun∣terfaite stuffe; & as I may say a meete bai••e to cunny-catch those who either haue not dea•••• with any of long time, or haue forgottē it: for to those that know it not, it is good Satin, to others that know it, it is Satin of Bruges. This short aduertise∣ment therefore shall suffice to stirre vp those, who by reason of their practise in the trade, are better acquainted with them thē my self, to discouer the like impostures: For there are euer two sorts of tradesmen of the same trade, faire chapmen and false cheaters. Otherwise I could not haue discouered so many of their secrets and mysteries, if some honest Merchants of whom I learned the former, had not first acquainted me therewith. Therefore I protest it was the least part of my meaning to houer in generalities in my former discourse, neither is it my purpose to do it in that which followeth.

16 Notwithstanding I may not in any wise forget Vsurers, least it be said that I fauor them. True it is that when I first read in Menot and Maillard such a number of their subtill sleights and crafty conueyances, I thought it almost impossible to adde any thing vnto them: but when I begunne to intreat of this argument, I per∣ceiued that I needed not go farre, or trouble my selfe much in discouering of others, coming newly sparkling from the forge. Among which I will range this in the first ranke (not because it is very witty, but because it is very pleasant) of an vsurer of Vincence, who was very importunate with the preacher of that place to cry out lustily against vsurers: and being demanded by him, why he was so earnest to haue him preach against them; he gaue him this answer: Sir (quoth he) I hope if you cry out mainly against them, and reproue them sharply for it, you wil in the end make them leaue it: and then if I can once be alone, or haue but few fellows, I doubt not but I shall quickly grow rich, wheras now I cā get nothing among such a multitude. But let vs proceed to other wicked practises, much more pernicious, whereby they insnare especially spend thrifts and bad husbands. For it is ordina∣rie with bankrupts when they begin to breake, to haue their next recourse to vsu∣rers, though this be the breaknecke of all, and the ready way to ouerthrow them horse and foote. See then here a trick very common at this day: If a rich merchant-vsurer be intreated to lend a summe of money; his answer will be, that he hath none, but he hath wares which he cares not to part withall, so he may haue the va∣lue of them in money, but that he shall be sure to lose by them if he sell them ouer quickly: whereupon he will direct the borrower to a good fellow (with whom he hath agreed vnderhand) who will not giue aboue fiue or sixe hundred crownes for that, for which the borrower agreed to giue a thousand; which thousand he is bound to pay, as though he had receiued the mony in hand, and pursed it. Which trick hath affinitie with that formerly spoken of by Menot & Maillard. But see here a farre stranger deuice, which they mention not at all: for sometimes they deliuer not the merchandize really, but by imagination; sending them only in their names

to cause them to giue a bill of their hand almost for twise so much as they receiue. Moreouer, there are such villanous vsuries practised at this day, with such strange courses and proceedings, as (doubtlesse) the aforesaid Preachers neuer heard of: and it is not vnlike but that they haue bin deuised of late. For the meanes whereby vsurers in some countries are wont to gnaw the borrower to the bones, are these: First note, that some are lenders by their occupation, and others sureties: when then a man commeth to an vsurer who lendeth for fiue in the hundred, and after much ado hath got a promise, vpon condition he put in a sufficient suretie, (the good wife also giuing her consent by meanes of some good present) he must hire some good fellow to be suretie for him, by presenting him with some thing; who will do nothing for all that, except he may haue a pawne worth very neare twise so much. And yet all this will not serue the turne neither, for that suretie must get another suretie, who must of necessitie be won by some present at the borrowers cost. And after all is done, he (sparing nothing in the meane time to feast these co∣nicatchers) bindeth himselfe in Darby bonds to giue certain pledges at the termes end, if he misse payment at the time appointed. If then he breake day, three or foure vnder the name of pledges (more or lesse, as it was formerly agreed) come to an Inne, and there make good cheare at the borrowers cost. And besides, haue a certaine dayly allowance mentioned in the bond, which comes often to twice so much as their charges: and there they runne vpon his score, till he come to take some other order; I meane, till he satisfie their host for all that they haue spent, and content them for their wages: and by mediation of Angels renew the bond, both with the creditor and the sureties, to obtaine a second terme (for the first being ex∣pired, he must see them afresh, or se••ke for other sureties, such as his creditor shall like of) and so at the last, the land or house, or whatsoeuer was layd to pawne, is so deepe in the vsurers booke, that the borrower is no way able to redeeme it. But this is the diuell and all, that they will not stay till he owe them so much as the pawne is worth, but cause the house to be adiudged them for the lone of 400. or 500. crownes, which is worth 1500. or 2000. whereof they are to haue the vse vntill it be plucked out of their clawes, the vsury notwithstanding of fiue in the hundred still running on, till it be payed, or till such time as at the request of other creditors the house or land may be sold at port-sale, that he may haue the ouerplus of the true value. Albeit it falleth out many times in such selling by port-sale (the coun∣trey being poore of it selfe; and the creditors men of power and might) that the house is sold or valued at halfe the worth, no man willing or daring to inhance the price. Besides al this, when the creditor lent his mony, he deliuered such peeces of gold as he thought good (whether they were weight or not, it mattered not) with hobby horses, and siluer daggers, or such like toyes, for such a price. Tell me now (good Reader) what sayst thou to this kind of vsury? Doest thou thinke that the diuell himselfe could do worse if he should become an vsurer? for my part I am perswaded he could not. And yet the vsury which is so common at this day, in grinding the faces of the poore people, makes their case much more lamentable, when griping extortioners do not onely impouerish them (they being poore al∣ready) but euen cut their throates, in taking their meate out of their mouthes by their monopolies, dayly deuised by these wicked wretches going to meet the wa∣gons and boates bringing in commodities, and corrupting the carters and water∣men to make them stay by the way. I remember I was once in place where it was reported that these merchants for Monopolies caused the horses to be conueyed away, faining that they had necessary vse for them: where as it was well knowne,

their drift was to take them from the watermen, that being vnprouided of horses to draw their boates, they might be caused to stay by the way.

CHAP. XVII. Of the thefts and iniustice of Lawyers.

COncerning thefts committed by Lawyers, especially by such as are termed Pettifoggers, though they be now farre greater, and in grea∣ter number, and suites in law more chargeable then euer they were, (notwithstanding all politicke courses and prouisoes to the contra∣rie) yet they are more tollerable then those of their predecessors. For if volenti & consentienti, non fit iniuria, and si nolentem qui seruat, idem fa∣cit occidenti; what harme do pettifoggers, to hold out their hands and open their purses to such as desire to fill them, vpon condition they make them some sport, and let them see a thousand fine fetches, and as many cunning conueyances and feates of theirs? In the raigne of king Lewis the eleuenth, there was a Bishop which tooke such delight in this sport, that when the King would haue eased him of a number of suites, he earnestly besought his highnesse to leaue him some twentie or thirtie behind, wherewith he might merrily passe away the time. But that hu∣mor is now very common, and it is growne to this head, that men do not onely delight in it, but seeke no other pastime or recreation all their liues long: so that to liue without suites, were a death vnto them. What reason is it then that Lawyers should make them such good sport for nothing? Or that they should be weary of taking before they be weary of giuing? And I am easily induced to thinke, that whē they were called Pragmaticiens, that is, Pragmatitioners (by the original word) things were not so out of square; but since that a sillable of their name was clipped away, and they called Praticiens, that is, Practitioners, they knew well how how to make themselues amends for this curtailing of their name, as well vpon their pur∣ses who were not in fault, as vpon theirs who were authors thereof. Besides, these termes of pratique and praticiens were giuen them fitly for the purpose, to teach them how they were to handle those that came within their clouches. Further, most certaine it is that Lawyers can get pounds more easily at this day, then they could crownes in former time: for whereas the Poyteuin in times past commenced but one suite for a pins point, he now commenceth halfe a dozen for as small a matter. The Norman who vsed to go by water for want of a horse, and to send his writs by land for feare of losing, rideth now on horseback, and carieth his writings with him. And surely there is great reason, that horsmens practises should exceed footmens. But in earnest, I verily thinke that there are more pettifogging and co∣nicatching Lawyers to be found at this day, who do euen flea, eate and gnaw the poore people to the very bones (especially where the Romish religion is in re∣quest) and vse more craftie sleights, subtilties, cogging parts, concussions, and all manner of corruption, then euer were heard of in former time. Now it would the more grieue me for this age wherein we liue (in which men are more giuen to wrangle at the law, then euer) if it were good going to law; then now it doth, see∣ing it is so chargeable. For as the sea, notwithstanding it be so boisterous and ra∣ging, hath many customers; if it were quiet and calme would haue many more, euen a hundred for one: so if Lawyers (who in kindnes cut mens throates) do not

discourage men from following them, what would they do if suites were not ac∣companied with so many miseries? doubtlesse the Poyteuin who in old time com∣menced but one suite for a pins point, and now (as hath bene said) maketh halfe a dozen of it, would cōmence twentie (at the least) for as small a matter. In a word, it were good (in my iudgement) for the ease of the poore people, if suites were so peppered and salted, that no man (no nor the diuel himself) might swallow them. Notwithstanding, as when a wicked man is slaine by another as bad as himselfe, we acknowledge the hand of God therein executing his iudgements before our eyes, and yet we approue not the murtherers fact: so when we see these busibodies who are euer wrangling with their neighbours, and following the law (albeit they might better sit still at home) to be so vexed and disquieted, and tossed from post to pillar, and so to receiue their deserued reward by the iust iudgement of God; yet we may not approue those by whom they are thus molested. Let vs therefore see whether Pettifoggers do more kindly entertaine their clients at this day, then they did when Maillard and Menot were liuing: and for more breuities sake, let vs heare what the most famous of all the French Poets saith hereof:

Là les plus grands les plus petis destruisent: Là les petis peu ou point auxgrands nuisent. Là trouue-l'on façon de prolonger, Ce qui se doit, & se peut abbreger: Là sans argent pouureté n'a raison: Là se destruit mainte bònne maison: Là biens sans cause en causes se despendent: Là les causeurs les causes s'entreuendent. Là en public on manifeste, & dit La mauuaistié de ce monde maudit, Qui ne sauroit sous bonne conscience Viure deux iours en paix & patience.

There greater men the poorer swaines deuoure, There neuer poore gainstood the mighties power. There meanes are found, short suites in length to draw: There needie clients waile the want of law. There famous houses find their fatall end: There fooles in causlesse suites their goods mis-spend. There wrangling pettifoggers wont to sell Their clients suites: there euery cause can tell This cursed worlds mad guise, that are not able To liue two dayes in peace without some brable.

And a little after:

Et cestui-là qui sa teste descoeuure, En plaiderie, a fait vn grand chef d'oeuure: Car il a tout destruit son parentage, Dont il est craint, & prisé d'auantage.

Who doth but vaile his cap the barre before, Hath done knights seruice in his clients cause: Though he haue wrought his houses iust disgrace, Yet he the more is fear'd and honor'd more.

And then speaking of sundry sorts of suites, which he compareth to sundry kinds of serpents, he saith:

De se froid là, qui lentement se traine, Par son venin a bien seu mettre haine, Entre la mere, & les mauuais enfans.

And that cold serpent, with soft trailing gate, Hath learn'd to sow the seeds of foule debate Betwixt the mother and her impious brood.

Which agreeth well with that which Menot often reproueth in children, for go∣ing to law with their mothers. Further, the same Poet saith, that Cleargie-men, who ought to disswade others from going to law, are the greatest wranglers of all others, in these verses:

Pas ne diront, qu'impossible leur semble D'estre Chrestien & plaideur tout ensemble: Ainçois seront eux-mesmes à plaider Les plus ardans.

They will not quite despaire, that one selfe man Should be a Lawyer and a Christian: Yet who so hotly pleade as they the while?

2 To conclude all in a word, we are to take whatsoeuer the foresaid preachers haue spoken concerning the miseries which accompanied their suites, and after∣wards trebble them, if we wold know all the mischiefes and miseries which follow our wrangling in the law. And poore Menot needed not to haue troubled his head so much about Iudges bribes (as though he could haue cured this sore, which is Noli me tangere, that may not be touched:) for they learned this lesson many hun∣dred yeares ago: and finding the practise pleasant and profitable, they haue so well remembred it, that they could neuer since forget it. And if there were nothing else but tract of time since they first peaceably enioyed this priuiledge, prescription doubtlesse would giue it them. Tract of time I say: for if we duely consider what Salomon and the Poet Hesiod say, we shall easily perceiue that euen in their dayes Iustice (which is painted blind and without hands) was cleane banished out of the world. Which custome though it be very ancient, yet our Age (I perswade my selfe) beares away the bell, not onely in regard of the Theoricke, but much more of the Practicke. For now they are not contented to take such bribes as may be eaten or drunken (as the cookes in Paris know well, with whom these Lawyers had to deale, fearing lest the great store of foule which came flying in at their windowes, and dropping downe their chimneyes all at an instant, would be tainted before they came to the table.) Neither are they content that their wiues should be pre∣sented with bracelets, chaines, and rings of gold, winking at it as though they knew nothing: nor that their men should take vnder hand, to the end they may share with them in the bootie: but are come to this passe, to say Come on, and forth∣with put out their hands. Yea (notwithstanding the Prouerbe which forbiddeth to looke a giuen horse in the mouth) they sticke not to ting and peize the money, before they will say, Wel then. And yet this doth not content them neither: for they are growne to this extremity, to cause many a poore Naboth to giue thē a vineyard of ten acres, to do them iustice for a vineyard of fiue or sixe. Nay, they haue gone a step further, and growne to harder tearmes: for they haue not bene ashamed to

aske that which cannot be lent, sold, or pawned, neither by the Law of God, nor man; the losse whereof is far greater and as irrecouerable as the los••e of life it selfe: they are euen come (I say) to enforce men to buy iustice at such a rate, as is not onely contrary to all ciuilitie and iustice, but redounds also to the infamie of suc∣ceeding posteritie. To speake in plaine termes, there was in this Age within the reach of our memory a President of the high court of Parliament at Paris, who did extend his right so farre, as to request an honorable Ladie, to lend him her placket peece, promising on that conditiō to giue her audience. I will beware how I name that President; yet thus much I dare boldly say, that it was he who was afterward metamorphosed into an Abbot: and being inuested into that dignity, writ a booke against the Lutherans, which he dedicated to the Pope: the style whereof was so hard and rough, that his Holynesse carrying a leafe of it by chance to the close∣stoole, did all to chafe and excoriate his Apostolike seate therewith. To be briefe, it was he, whose nose was enchassed in many fine Epitaphs, whilst the Pope (who had at that time many yrons in the fire) should be at leasure to canonize him for a Saint. Howbeit I wil not deny, but that if Communis error facitius, and if that be lawful for a Presidēt of the Parliamēt which is lawful for other inferior Iudges; this Iudges aduocates may alleadge the exāples of some who haue done litle bet∣ter, and of others who haue done far worse. Among which the Prouost called La Vouste may wel be the ringleader of the dance, for the notable knauish part, which he plaid with a vertuous Lady, who comming vnto him in hope to intreat him in her husbands behalf, (whom he kept in prison) he requested her to do him a small pleasure, onely to giue him a nights lodging, promising vpon that condition to grant whatsoeuer she would aske. She (poore soule) was here put to a plunge; (and what woman is there who entirely loueth her husband, that would not haue bene in the like case?) For considering with her selfe on the one side, that if shee yeelded to his impotent affection, she should violate her faith plighted to her husband: and one the other side, that she should saue his life by consenting vnto him▪ she handled the matter warily and well. For although she was resolued to preferre her husbands life before her good name, yet she first acquainted him therewith; who easily dispensing with her, (as it is like he would) she let his Lordship take his plea∣sure, which he so much desired, perswading her selfe he would be as good as his word. But the next morning this wicked wretch, (yea supersuperlatiue knaue, if I may so speake) hauing hanged him, said vnto her; I promised (indeed) you should haue your husband againe: Well, I wil be as good as my word, I wil not keep him frō you take him to you. If we here consider the difference which ought to be be∣tween Christians & heathen, can we say that the knaueries of Verres (for which he was so battered with the canon shot, and striken downe with the thunderbolt of Tullies eloquence) did any way come neare this notorious villany, cōmitted not∣withstanding in the sight of the Sunne? I haue often heard of another of his kna∣uish parts, which (because it makes much to shew his integritie) may well go hand in hand with the former, that so both of them may be registred in his chronicles. Whilst this iolly gentleman was about to hang a silly soule who was vpon the lad∣der, a good fellow came vnto him, and whispered in his eare, promising that if he would saue his life, he would giue him a hundred crownes in ready money: which words had so good a rellish, and made his teeth so to water, that he presently gaue a signe to the hang-man to hold his hand, & (hauing deuised a good scābling shift) came neare to the place of execution, & said aloud in his gibbridge, Regardas, messeurs, en qual dangi•• me mettio a quest malhurous: Car el a courone, & non m'oudi∣sio

pas: Lo mal de terre te vire. Dauala, dauala: tu seras menat dauant l'official ton iuge. That is, See (my maisters) into what danger this roague hath brought me: for he hath * 1.14 courone, and neuer told me. A plague light on thee. Come downe, come downe Sirra, thou shalt be presented before the officiall thy Iudge. And here I remember another tricke yet farre more strange, plaid by another who had the same office. This good fellow desirous on the one side to saue a theeues life that was committed into his hands, vpō condition he might haue a share in the booty (as was formerly agreed), and on the other side fearing lest the people should murmur and mutine, if he suf∣fered not the Law to haue his course, and that himselfe should be in danger of his life, he shifted it thus. He apprehended a simple fellow, and told him that he had sought for him a long time, and that he was the man that had committed such a fact. The silly soule denied it stoutly, as one whose conscience acquit him of all that was laid to his charge. But the Prouost being resolued to proceed on, and to prosecute the matter against him to the proofe, suborned certaine good fellowes to deale with him vnder hand, and to shew him that it was better for him to con∣fesse the fact (seeing that whether he denied or confessed it, there was no remedy, he was sure to lose his life): and that if he confessed it, the Prouost wold be bound by oth to cause so many masses to be said for him, that he might assure himself he should go to heauen: and though he denyed it, he shold be hanged neuerthelesse and go to the diuell, because no man would procure him so much as one masse. The simple sot hearing that he should be hanged, and after go the diuell, was ter∣ribly affraid, and said that he had rather be hanged and so go to God. In the end he told them he did not remember that euer he committed any such thing: not∣withstanding, if any man did better remember it then himselfe, and were sure of it, he would dye patiently: onely he besought them in any hand to keepe touch with him for his masses. He had no sooner spoken the word, but he was brought to the place of execution, to supply his roome that had deserued death. Howbeit, being vpon the ladder, he vttered certaine speeches, by which he gaue the people to vnderstand, that he was sorry that euer he had confessed so much, notwithstan∣ding the heauen and happinesse they had promised him. To remedy which in∣conuenience, the Prouost gaue a signe to the hangmā to turne him off the ladder, lest he should tell tales out of the schoole, which was done accordingly. But be∣cause I am come to the very height of these mens impieties, I will here strike saile and direct my course to another coast.

3 And if I must needs speake of Iudges and Iustices wiues, as well as Maillard and Menot, be it knowne vnto all men, that they are not content to haue their gownes died in the blood of the poore, nor to get their liuing by the sweat of their bodies (as those houswiues mentioned by the foresaid preachers) but make their market better, and go a nearer way to the wood. For wheras they get nothing but braue apparrell and iewels by such sweat, these get offices besides for their hus∣bands. And what say these gentle Gillians and chast Penelopes, Quae faciunt placitum Domini Abbatis, Domini Episcopi, Domini Cardinalis (as Menot speaketh) when they see their husbands aduanced by their meanes, but that it is good to haue the fauour of great Lords, and that a man cannot tell what need he may haue of their helping hand? Questionlesse, if Menot or Maillard were now liuing, they would answer them roundly (if they had not forgotten their old Latin) Ad omnes Diabo∣los talem fauorem.

4 Which being so, it cannot be but that that wicked kind of cheating and chaf∣fering which was vsed in Menots time (as we may perceiue by his complaints)

should be much more common and ordinary at this day, viz. that Lawyers should lend their consciences to great Lords. For seeing they obtaine offices of them at so easie a rate (viz. by their meere fauour) they cannot chuse (as they thinke who haue as large a conscience as a ship-mans hose, or a Franciscans sleeue which others call a cheuerell conscience) but make them win the day and cary the cause, though they should offer the greatest wrong in the world. Notwithstanding I do not af∣firme that all maried men which are promoted by great Lords, are aduanced by meanes of their wiues: but this I say, that it is either a thing lately practised among them, or at least farre more common and ordinarie then in former time. How euer it be, our Age will affoord vs sundry examples of such as euen with shipwracke of their consciences (if they had any) shew great Lords that they are not vnthankful, but that they so well remember the benefites and fauours they haue receiued at their hands, that they wholly become their most humble and affectionate ser∣uants. Howbeit I will not stand to exemplifie this in those who do no better then damne their owne soules in this behalfe, but will record a verie memorable exam∣ple of a certaine Iudge at Paris, to whom I hope I shall do no more wrong to put him in the ranke among the rest, then they did him at Paris (Anno 1557.) in setting him on the pillorie. This venerable Iudge purposing to shew better then euer be∣fore, that he was a miller in conscience as well as in name (let not this cracke the credit of those millers that keep a good conscience) & willing to shew a great Lord how much he wold do for him (being willing as it seemed to do much more then he was requested) not content to damne his soule to the diuell in this case; flou∣rished so with his Eloquence and Rhetoricall insinuations, that he perswaded others to send their soules to hel for company. For he so hotly prosecuted the mat∣ter against the Countesse of Senigan (who was vniustly accused to haue holpen the Duke of* 1.15 Ascot to saue himself out of the castle of Vincennes where he was im∣prisoned) that he suborned a number of false witnesses to depose against her, vsing for this purpose the helpe of a commissioner called Bouuet: but both escaped at too easie a rate. For after they had bene condemned for double dealing and false pac∣king, in suborning false witnesses to further the suite commenced against the said Countesse, they were adiudged to aske her forgiuenesse in way of honorable satisfaction, and after to be set on the pillory in the market place of Paris, and last of all to be banished. Neither do such base companions onely stretch their consci∣ences vpon the tenters to pleasure their Lords and maisters, (at whose command they are ready with life and limme) but to gratifie others also. Witnesse the Chan∣cellour who cried out vpon his death bed, Ah Cardinall, thou hast sent vs all to the diuell. Which I speake not any way to blemish the good name of his successour; whose great knowledge (as all men know) ioyned with like integritie, may serue as a patterne and president to all posteritie.

5 But to returne to false witnesses, and the suborning of them (because my purpose is to treat of thē more at large). Albeit then this false packing in suborning of false witnesses be a sinne of great standing, and almost as old as the man in the Moone: yet it neuer came (I take it) to the height it is come vnto in these daies, as may appeare by an answer (which is now growne to be a by-word in eue∣ry mans mouth) made by a good fellow, who being demanded what trade he was of, answered, that he was a witnesse. Which answer could neuer haue come from any, but from such a one as had had his abode in those places where men made witnesse bearing a trade or occupation, making merchandize thereof as of wares. And we may assure our selues that his fellowes would neuer haue answered so

simply. If any shall say, that the number of false witnesses is not (in all probability) so great at this day as it was some few yeares ago, considering there are not so ma∣ny executed for it, as in former times. I answer that the reason followeth not: for experience shewes that there are more put to death by order of Law in some pla∣ces where lesse trespasses are committed, then in others where greater villanies are practised. The execution therefore of iustice in one place often or seldome doth not argue the multitude or paucity of offenders in another▪ it shewes rather the vigilancie and integritie of those that haue the sword committed vnto them. If they shall further reply and say, that though the number of false witnesses be now as great, and their punishment lesse then euer it was; yet it is not because there is greater impunity, but for that it is a point of greater difficultie, to discouer them, considering their suborners teach them their lesson better, and they remem∣ber it better then their predecessors. I answer to the contrary, that it is as ordinary at this day for false witnesses to bewray, betray, and almost beray themselues; yea and to beate themselues (as it were) with their owne rods, as euer it was in for∣mer times. Among many other notable examples of false depositiōs (which haue happened within these few yeares,) of such as had foully forgotten their lesson: that is commonly alledged (for proofe hereof) which is of certain varlets suborned by a Lord of Berri against a citizē of Bourges called Boyuerd, was who accused of murther: for wheras they were told that the best marke wherby they might know the said Boyuerd, was that his nose was made like the handle of a rasor: they being seuerally examined by the Iudge, and asked how they could know him; answered all with one accord, that they could easily know him by a cut of a razour, which he had vpon his nose. So that when Boyuerd (against whom they came to depose) was brought forth, they said he was not the man, because he had no scarre vpon his nose. And thus being detected, they were accordingly executed: the subor∣ner and false accuser being beheaded and quartered onely in effigie, which was no small aduantage for him. Now albeit this be as notable an example of false packing as happened these twenty yeares. Yet we may not thinke that it is the onely exam∣ple, but that some of fresh memory may be found to match it. This at the least which happened (as most men know) within these seuen weekes to certaine false witnesses, suborned against one brought from Orleans to Paris fast bound & pinioned: how these wicked wretches so forgat themselues, that whereas they should haue said, that the man against whom they deposed, had a red beard; they said he was swart, and had a blacke beard. Now what seuere punishment hath bene inflicted vpon such companions. I leaue the Reader to enquire; yet this I know (and who knoweth it not?) that during the last ciuill warres in Fraunce, and whilst the deuourers of cōfiscations ruled the rost, this accursed trade was practised with as great impunitie, as euer it was either in this or in former Ages.

6 And is the lurry of Lawyers, who (as Maillard speaketh) take ab hoc & ab hâc, or à dextris & à sinistris, quite worne out? Nay would to God it were not much greater then before, and that it were not so notoriously knowne, that euen little children could talke of it. Notwithstanding I will here alleadge one onely example, which shall sufficiently cleare this iolly manner of proceeding. The Attourney of my Lord Beau-ieu and heire of Myles d'Hyliers, Bishop of Chartres, (who is yet liuing, if he be not very lately dead) hauing receiued of the foresaid Lord a house standing in the place Maubert in Paris, (which he sold (as it is reported) for 150. or 200. pounds in ready money:) in recompence of the paines which he promised to take in aduancing his businesse, in steed of

promise, he like a villaine betrayed him most perfidiously to his aduersary (the Lord of Beaumont La ronce) in hope of a parcell of land worth three hundred pounds, which was promised him.

7 As for cunning conueyances, subtil sleights, craftie deuices, and cousining shifts vsed in Law, would to God they were but quadruple to those in former times, and that yong beginners were acquainted with no more sleights then the craftiest Lawyers were in former ages. I will here alleadge onely two exam∣ples to this purpose, which notwithstanding shall counteruaile two dozen of o∣thers. The first is of a craftie conueyance grounded vpon a rigorous course in the formall proceeding of iustice, not vnlike to that in Terence, Summum ius summa saepè iniuria est: which is this. The Proctor and Counsell of a certaine gentleman who was the plaintiffe (as being the next kinsman) being corrupted, and hauing compacted vnder hand with the Counsel & Proctor of the aduerse partie, caused the said plaintiffe to pay a certaine summe of mony, very fraudulently giuing him the key of the budget backe againe in keeping, wherein the mony was; to the end that when the defendant should come to receiue his mony at the time appointed, and that the depositary should answer, that he could not deliuer him any til he had the key; he might take witnesse that he refused to pay it, and so sentence might passe on his side, that his aduersary had not tendered the mony according to co∣uenant; and consequently that he might be cast in his suite, and wiped of all: which fell out accordingly. The second is of a most strange sleight deuised to saue the life of one imprisoned for a capital crime. The story is this. One Williā Kinsmā being condemned by the vnder Iudge of Poitiers to be boyled in oyle for a false coyner, appealed to the Court of Parliament at Paris; whither being brought, his proctor Belluchian gaue him intelligence, that the next day he should be con∣fronted with 20. witnesses. Whereupon Kinsman intreated him to send him some nimble headed fellow (promising to giue him ten French crownes), and by him he directed the said Belluchian, that at night he should disguise himself, and repaire to the house where the witnesses lodged, faining himselfe to be one of the num∣ber: and that in supper time he should giue it out, that William Kinsman (against whom they were come to depose) would escape as he had done sundry times be∣fore. The proctor did as he was enioyned; wherupon they growing hot vpon his words, would needs wager with him to the contrary, and layed downe euery man his quart d'escu. Of all which particulars the proctor took a register by two publike notaries, whom he had brought with him secretly for that purpose: which being authentically taken, he sent it to the said Kinsman; who being confronted the next morning with these witnesses, and demanded (as the manner is) whether he held them for honest men, and whether he would except against any of them? answered, that they were all as true to him as Iudas was to Christ; for (said he) they haue sworne my death: for proofe whereof, see this scrole. Now as this was (in any mans iudgement) a most sublimate subtiltie (as I may say:) so I thinke no man will denie but that albeit the defendant aduised his proctor thereof, yet it may well be reckoned in the number of those which are dayly forged in the Law∣yers shops (to vse the French phrase,) and consequently may fitly be placed here among the rest.

8 Now if there be haply any that will not rest satisfied with the former ex∣amples, but shall thinke that this age hath greater store of them: I will alleadge two others, which I hope will suffice to make vp the whole number, and which (if I be not greatly deceiued) were deuised of late, at leastwise not mentioned by

the foresaid Preachers. The first is, that whereas in former time, the definitiue sen∣tence of the Iudge did put an end to all suites; they haue now found out a tricke to continue, protract, and multiply them so much the more: for there are some suites which haue bin decided ten times by sentence of Court, and yet are as new to begin as euer they were. The second is, that for one head which is cut off from a suite, there forthwith spring out as many moe, as there did in old time out of the serpent Hydra. To wind vp all in a word, whereas our ancestors complained onely of the length of suites (for it is no new saying, Lis litem serit) we haue iust cause to complaine, that they can neuer haue end.

9 Now if it were necessary to particularize that which hath bene spoken in generall touching the corruption which is to be seene in pettifogging practises, I could here alleadge a very strange practise, which (thankes be to God) was in re∣quest but onely for a time, no longer then the credit of the author thereof, the selfe same man who was made so famous by a comedie acted in Artois, where it was said: Bertran di te lechon. Il nescé mie se lechon. Par me foy il luy faut bailler sur sès fes∣ses. Non, non, il est trop grand pour auoir sur ses fesses▪ il vaut mieux luy bailler les seaux: that is, Bertram say thy lesson. He cannot say his lesson. In good troth he must be beaten. Nay, by your leaue Sir, he is too old to vntrusse: we were better giue him the keeping of the broade seale. This fine fellow (whō I wil not make knowne by any other name) not content to seale hand ouer head whatsoeuer great men intreated him, granted writs out of the Court of Parliament at Paris to both parties, as wel the plaintiffes as the defendants, with reuocatory letters one vpon another, sometimes to the number of sixe or seuen. Now what age can boast or brag euer to haue seene or heard the like?

10 But if we should proceed further, and come to the fountaine and original of these euils, we should (no doubt) find it to be so great, that we may well won∣der they did not maister the banks, and ouerflow in greater measure. For if we con∣sider the great impunitie and free libertie which is granted to prolling pettifog∣gers, chicken Iustices, and corrupt Iudges, who at this day wrest and peruert the law; we may wonder they do not ten times worse. But if we should see an exem∣plary punishment inflicted vpon such malefactors, like vnto that recorded by He∣rodotus, viz. that the son succeeding in his fathers office (who had bene a corrupt Iudge) should be forced to sit vpon his fathers skinne, we may assure our selues, they would looke a little better about them; neither would they so eagerly pursue, nor so greedily gape after offices as they do. But I feare me, such Lawyers wil an∣swer, that when that punishment (mētioned by Herodotus) was inflicted vpon this Iudge, offices were not set to sale and sold by the drumme as now they are (seeing this customary buying and selling of offices began but of late yeares) and therfore that they had great reason to looke a little better to their places: whereas the hast which men make now a dayes to fill their bags againe, causeth them now and then to forget their dutie. They may further alleadge, that whereas Herodotus reporteth that a yong girle about 8. or 9. yeares of age, said vnto her father, Looke to your selfe father, least this man corrupt you with his bribes: they on the contrary are sollicited by wife and children, by friends and kinsmen, to take euery present that is offered. Now albeit this excuse may passe for currant with men, yet the question is, whether he before whom they must one day giue an account of their steward∣ship, will take it for good paiment; questionlesse they may assure themselues he wil not. But to returne to the impunitie formerly mentioned: if we consider how the course of iustice is peruerted, and how they who should remedy and redresse it,

are the greatest agents for it, we shall not greatly wonder at the matter. And where they should begin to punish such as offend in this kind, I make them their owne iudges. For say they should punish some malefactors, yet what likelihood is there they should punish those to whom they secretly giue the watchword, not to do as they enioyne them in their letters missiue? But I will not prosecute this point any further, seeing a word is enough to the wise: onely let me (for a conclusion of this chapter) parallele this ancient history in Herodotus with a moderne example, which seemes to sute and second it in this very point, touching rigor and seuerity in the execution of iustice, much differing from the impunitie which raigneth at this day. The story is recorded in Froissard, where he recounteth a fact of Baia∣get the Turkish Emperour (whom he calleth Amorabaquin by the name of his fa∣ther) being accompanied with certaine French Lords, who vpon the receipt of their ransome were newly set at libertie, in the raigne of Charles the sixt king of France. His words are these.

Moreouer, it happened that whilest the Earle of Ne∣uer•• and other French Lords were in the Court with Amorabaquin, a poore wo∣man came with a petition to the Emperour, desiring she might haue iustice against one of his seruants (for it was his pleasure that iustice aboue all things should be kept inuiolably throughout all his dominions) who made her complaint in this sort: My Lord ô King, I come vnto thee as to my Soueraigne, to complaine of one of the groomes of thy chamber, who came lately into my house, and drunke vp my Goates milke which I had prouided for my selfe and my children for all the day. I told him that if he did offer me that wrong, I would complaine vnto thee: and I had no sooner spoken the word, but he gaue me two boxes on the eare; and would not forbeare, though I threatned to complaine vnto thee. Do iustice my Lord ô King, and take order that I may be recompenced for the iniury he hath done me, that all men may know that thy will and pleasure is to rule thy people with iustice and equitie, according to thy oath and promise. The Emperour gaue good eare to her words, and said, With all my heart. And thereupon caused his Tur∣kish seruant to be brought before him, and the woman also, commanding her to renew her complaint. The man (who was terribly afraid of the Emperour) excu∣sed himselfe, and said, that there was not a word true of all that she had said. The woman replied both wisely and boldly, affirming that she spake nothing but the truth. At these words the Emperour made a little pause, and said, Woman, be well aduised what thou sayest; for if I find thine accusation to be false, thou shalt die a cruel death. She answered, Be it so my Lord ô King: for if it were not true, I should haue had no cause to haue troubled thee: therefore do me iustice, I aske no more. I will do iustice (said the Emperour) for I am sworne to do it to all my subiects within my dominions. And immediatly he caused certaine of his Iannizaries to apprehend his groome, and to open his belly (for otherwise he could not haue knowne whether he had drunke her milke or not,) who finding it to be as she had said (for it was not yet digested in his stomacke) informed the Emperour thereof. Who vnderstanding that her cause was iust, said vnto her, Thou didst not com∣plaine without cause; now go thy way, thou hast iustice for the wrong that was done thee: and forthwith caused her to be recompenced for her losse.

Thus the man that had committed that fact was punished. The French Lords who were at the Court with Amorabaquin, saw this iudgement executed. This historie I thought good to parallele with that of Herodotus, for that in this point of seue∣ritie they seeme to haue some similitude and agreement; albeit as well the actions as the persons vpon whom the punishment was inflicted, be somewhat different.

Howbeit I denie not but that this fact of Amorabaquin ought to be termed cruel∣tie or temeritie rather then seueritie, in that the theft which he punished was but pettie larcenie, and the partie not conuicted thereof by order of law. But like e∣nough, the Emperours intent was to terrifie others by his example. I could fur∣ther alleadge sundry other examples of like rigour and seueritie exercised by Iud∣ges, and that vpon their nearest kinsmen. And not to seeke farre off for examples, we reade in the French Chronicles of certaine Kings who haue done the like. But that which should especially moue Princes to execute iustice (though they had no regard of him who will one day call them to a reckoning) is the example of those who through neglect or for default thereof, haue first wasted, and after lost their countries. And if we consider the great change and alteration which is to be seene at this day, as well in this as in other things, we may well wonder thereat: for it is well knowne, that fiftie pardons are granted with lesse suite at this day, then fiue could be obtained two hundred yeares ago. And we haue heard how a Iudge of Paris (who was liuing within these hundred yeares) would vse the same reasons for the due execution of iustice, which men vse now a dayes to hinder the same. For whereas we say, he is a yong man, and in the Aprill of his age, it were pitie to put him to death, for he may do good seruice to his Prince and countrey; and on the other side, he is an old man, and hath one foote in the graue, it were great pitie to hasten his death, which is readie to knocke at the doore: whereas (I say) those that bolster vp malefactors, vse such speeches: he (on the contrary) was wont to say of a yong man, hang him, hang him, he will play the theefe againe; and of an old man, hang him, hang him, he hath played the theefe too long. Which seuere sentence of the Iudge concerning yong men, puts me in mind of that which was once obiected to the King of France refusing to grant a pardon to one that sued for the sixth or seuenth murther, viz. that the felon was guil∣tie but of one murther, and that the rest were to be imputed to the King, consi∣dering that he had neuer committed the last, if the king had not pardoned the first. Which agreeth wel with the saying of an heathen writer: Veterem ferendo iniuriam inuitas nouam. And, Inuitat culpam, qui peccatum praeterit. Which sayings ought duly to be considered of all such as pleade or sue for the impunitie of malefactors. And they ought further to remember that Bonis nocet, quisquis pepercerit malis. Now if heathen men did so well consider of these things, how much more ought Christians seriously to meditate hereon? Howbeit I denie not but that there are some who are readie to take the least occasion to practise their crueltie, and that from such things from whence others take occasion to be more slack and remisse. For example, during mine abode at Padua, I heard of one that had borne office in the citie not many yeares before, who whipped a scholer so much the more, be∣cause he was his friends sonne: for when the youth (after he had bene soundly beaten) told him that he was such a mans sonne: O (quoth he) hee is my good friend: therefore because thou art his sonne, thou shalt haue two lashes more.

CHAP. XVIII. Of Murthers committed at this day.

COncerning murthers, Menot keepeth a foule ado about nothing, in making great outcries against such as will not stirre a foote when they see a man of worth slaine in the streets. I say about nothing, not considering the thing in it selfe: but comparing it with that which is vsuall and ordinarie at this day. For since that France was Italianized, I meane since it learned the tricke of the Italian trade in hyring assassins (for I must vse new words to expresse new wickednesse) to cut mens throtes, as if they should agree with a Butcher to kill an oxe or a calfe; who can thinke the say∣ing of Menot any thing strange? Nay, it were a rare thing if three or foure dayes should passe ouer our heads without such accidents; whereas Menot (perhaps) neuer saw such a fact ten times in all his life. But what would he haue said, if he had seene a murther committed at Paris about sixe yeares ago, in Saint Iohn of Beanois his streete, where my selfe was borne? where a Gentleman dyning in a house right ouer against Saint Iohns Church, was intreated to speake with one at the dore, about a matter of importance: who rising from the table went to the dore with his napkin on his shoulder mistrusting nothing: whither he was no sooner come, but foure men (whom he had neuer seene before) drew vpon him, and plaid their prises so well that they left him not, till they had laid him for dead in the place. The murtherers departed at midday in the sight of a multitude there assembled, not a man among them so much as once opening his mouth against them. This murther I saw not my selfe, but onely heard it constantly affirmed by very credi∣ble persons, who were there present. But I will here record another, whereof my selfe am eye-witnes; which notwithstanding doth not so much concerne murthe∣rers, and such as kill men for a set price, as the great impunity which is granted thē in most countries at this day. During mine abode at Rome in the time of Pope De Monte called Iulius the third; an Italian meeting another in the streete, asked him, when he meant to pay him that he owed him (which words I heard as I pas∣sed by.) And I had not gone a dozen paces further, but I heard a great noise, and I was no sooner come to them, but the partie that had demanded his money, fell downe dead, the other hauing stabbed him with his dagger. At the very instant came the Marshals mē (not mistrusting any such thing) who in steed of executing martiall Law (as I expected) committed such a fact whereby there was no more difference betweene them and the murtherer, then betweene a theefe and a re∣ceiuer. For in steed of apprehending him, and committing him to prison, they holpe him and made way for him to escape. Which when I related to some of my acquaintance, they made me no other answer, but that it was an ordinarie thing. And this puts me in mind of that which I sometime heard reported of a wag-halter of Bourges, whose surest refuge was the Iaile, by reason of the inward ac∣quaintance he had with the Iaylour: so that whilst they were seeking him vp and downe the city (after he had plaid them one tricke of conueyance or other,) he was already in the place where they would haue lodged him, though entertained there after another manner then they would haue vsed him. Yet we are the lesse to wonder, that one or two officers which should see iustice executed, should harbor

a notorious malefactor; then that a whole multitude should do it as it were with common consent; as they did at Rome towards this murtherer, as hath bene said. Moreouer there is a custome in this country, which in many places would be hol∣den vncouth & strange. For there are certain murther••▪ whereat iustice doth not only wink, but also approueth, yea and often promiseth reward to the murtherer. As when a Prince or weale publike makes a law, and giues it out by proclamation, that if one exile can slay another within the confines of the countrey out of which he was banished, he shall not onely redeeme his banishment and be recalled, but also be rewarded and recompenced for his paines. I was (I remember) at Venice at the publishing of this proclamation some twelue yeares ago, and saw it put in exe∣cution the day after the publication thereof, as followeth. A banished man hauing secretly arriued and crept into the citie the euening after the promulgation of this Law, had no sooner intelligence thereof, but he made diligent inquirie where he might find one whom he might murther according to the tenure of the said E∣dict: and being informed where such a one was, he watched him vntil the euening, and striking at him as he came out of a house, (but missing of his ayme) he pursu∣ed him to the channell where he had cast himselfe, and there wounded him to death. I am not ignorant with what reasons they vse to defend and iustify this law. This is the principall, that it is a meanes to make banished men suspect each other, and consequently to keepe them from assembling together. But Christians ought to leaue such politike courses and considerations to Platoes common-wealth and Aristotles politicks, where a number of such deuices are to be found, which ought to be so far from Christians, that they should not be once named without horror. Howeuer it be, I will here adde another like histori•• of an accident which hap∣pened during mine abode in the same citie, though I was not an eye-witnesse thereof as I was of the former. The Saffies of the citie searching a ship (as the man∣ner is) for wares de contrabando (for so they call all such wares as are forbidden vpō paine of confiscation) they came to two Franciscans (at leastwise apparelled like Franciscans) commanding them to open their chest; which they hauing sundry times refused to do, in the end they burst it open by force. Now the wares which they found in it were two mens heads newly cut off. Howbeit, after that the Fran∣ciscans had whispered them in the eare, they made no great matter of it, but turned it to a matter of merriment, and pleasant dispute, viz. whether these heads were forbidden wares or not. The report indeed went, that the matter should be hotly prosecuted against them: but within two dayes after, the storme was ouer, all was husht and gone, which made the world suspect there was some false pac∣king among them. Of which fact when speech was moued, I remember I heard it related, how that by this license giuen by proclamation (much like to that for∣merly mentioned) a brother would bring in his brothers head. What would Me∣not and Maillard haue said (may we thinke) of such Policie, if it may be so called? But howsoeuer we tearme or take it, I am to intreate the Reader to remember it, that therewith he may confront any strange Law recorded by Herodotus.

2 But now to returne to murtherers and such as butcher men for a set price; a thing (doubtlesse) more to be lamented in Italie then in any other countrey: where those villaines are many times so hasty to compasse the death of those whom they haue vndertaken to make out of the way, (to the end they may finger a little money) that for want of taking a view, and marking them by the priuy markes which are giuen them, in steed of them they murther those that resemble them: which the Italians call Amassar in fallo. I haue further heard, that some being

masked, haue bene slaine in steed of others. And all the recompence which they could get, who haue bin thus encountred and set vpon, yea so beatē & wounded, that they haue bene brought almost to deaths doore, hath bene this: By your leaue Sir, or I cry you mercy Sir, I tooke you for another. Indeed they bid those that are mas∣ked, vnmaske themselues, to the end they may see whether they be the men they seek for or not; which if they find them to be, they ease them of the paines of mas∣king themselues againe.

3 But my purpose is here onely to discourse of such murthers as are punisha∣ble, and are indeed punished both by the law of God and man. To handle there∣fore the two principall kinds, there are (as we know) two sorts of murthers: some are committed in way of reuenge; others in hope of gaine. Those that murther men in the heate of their rage, and in desire of reuenge, either cōmit the fact them∣selues, or hire others to do it, whom they know they can draw with a siluer chaine, whether they be common assassins or others. Those that kill men in their mad mood with desire of reuenge, are likewise of two sorts: for some (as French-men) t••ke present reuenge in the heat of their passion when their bloud begins to boile, at leastwise smother it not long: others (as Italians aboue the rest) nourish their re∣uengefull humour, and suffer it to fester in their cankered stomacks a long time. Two things also are to be considered in the execution or act of reuenge: for some reuenging themselues vpon their enemies, practise the saying of Virgil (not consi∣dering that he speaketh de hoste, not de inimico:) Dolus an virtus quis in hoste requi∣rat? which is more practised by Italians then by any nation in the world. Others neuer do it, but openly, and as a man would say with drummes and trumpets, ne∣uer setting vpon a man suddenly or at vnawares, nor taking aduantage of him, (which the French call supercherie) but giuing him warning before hand to looke to himself, and time to draw his weapon; making conscience to set two vpon one. Which in old time was more strictly obserued in France, then in any countrey the Sunne doth circle; and is stil practised by all true hearted French-men, such I meane as do not degenerate. Notwithstanding I haue heard many Italians make a mocke at this custome. And no maruell, considering they professe and practise the cleane contrary. For if once they bite their fingers ends in threatning maner, God knows, if they set vpon their enemie face to face, it is because they cannot assaile him be∣hind his backe. And they are not so mad as to bid him looke to himselfe, or once to offer the encounter except they be the stronger, and so well guarded, that they will be sure to be two to one at the least: nay though they should set ten vpon one, yet will they crie, Vittoria, vittoria. And which is worse then all the rest, besides all these aduantages which they labour to get ouer their enemies, and the treason which they plot and practise to their vttermost, they make easie passage for them∣selues by meanes of dissembling trechery. Witnesse Simon Turke who slue an Ita∣lian at Antwerpe (or caused him to be slaine) about fifteene yeares ago, in a chaire made by a most diuellish deuice, hauing smothered his hatred for many yeares to∣gether, and giuen pregnant proofes of vnfained reconciliation. Witnesse also (a∣bout the same time) the Italian who killed Vaudray the knight of the watch at Pa∣ris in S. Antonies streete, in his owne house: for hauing a long time borne him in hand that he had forgiuen and forgotten the grudge which was betweene them, he came on a time to his house whilest he was at dinner, where Vaudray was no sooner ris••n from the table to embrace him, as one that professed great friendship & kindnesse, but he stabbed him with his dagger, and slue him. In like maner the Lieutenant criminall of Roane (about two yeares before) riding on his mule to the

Court, was slaine by an Italian, who stabbed him so nimbly into the breast, that his men perceiued it not till he had conueyed himselfe away, and being mounted vpon a lustie courser, saued himselfe by the swiftnesse of his beast. But because I am not ignorant that such examples as these are easie and at hand to euery man, and that I should but cloy our daintie trauailers who haue bene in Italy, with set∣ting before them old cole-worts in a new dish, I will here record a late murther, wherein we shall as in a crystall see the most diuellish and damnable desire of re∣uenge that euer entred into the heart of man. An Italian hauing nourished ma∣lice and rancor in his mind for the space of ten yeares together, dissembling all the while to be friends with his fo; as he was walking on a time with him, in a by-place came behind him and threw him downe, and holding his dagger to his throate, told him that if he would not renounce God, he would kill him. The man being at the first very loth to commit so horrible a sinne, yet in the end yeelded to do it rather then to lose his life, and so renounced both God and the Saints, and all the Kyrielle (as they spake in those dayes,) whereupon the wicked wretch hauing his desire, stabbed him with his dagger, which he held to his throate, and afterward bragged that he had taken the kindliest and the brauest reuenge of his enemie that euer man did, in that he had destroyed him both body and soule.

4 I proceed now to prosecute those murthers that are committed of a coue∣tous and greedie desire of gaine; which are of two sorts. Some commit them in hope of reward, as I shewed before when I spake of assassins: others, in hope they may enioy the spoile of trauailers with more securitie, whom we call theeues and robbers. Of assassins, we haue spoken sufficiently before. As for theeues, would to God they were not so frequent in all places: for it may truly be said of this age, that it surpasseth all the former in notorious thefts, as we may perceiue by the new punishment inflicted vpon such malefactors in the raigne of king Francis the first, by his expresse edict. For seeing ordinary punishments wold nothing moue them, he deuised an extraordinary kind of torture, viz. to breake them vpon a wheele, and there to leaue them to languish and pine away. But neither was this sufficient to make them giue ouer the trade and occupation, nor to keepe others from fol∣lowing it: witnesse the many executions which haue bene since, especially at Pa∣ris. That of a gentleman called Villieuineuf, of the Countie of Tonnerre, is famous among the rest, who kept a good fellow of purpose to cut mens throates, who was executed with him, and a yong youth which was his lackey, who was whipped; and the cut-throate companion burned quicke before his eyes, and himselfe af∣terwards broken vpon the wheele. And this putteth me in mind of an Italian who cōmitted his robberies (if they may be so called) in the very citie within his owne house, whereas others are wont to rob by the high way: (whence cutters by the high way side, and robbers are vsed as synonymies.) This Italiā called Francisquino hauing continued sometime at Bononia the fertill, in one of the best mens houses of the city, being held to be some great noble man, by reason of his state and boun∣tie, was discouered in the end to leade such a life as followeth. Vnder colour of keeping open house for all gamesters at dice and cards (an vsual thing with gentle∣men in that countrey, though in some cities more then in others) and of hauing continuall supply of fresh company, to shew his bountie and magnificence, his manner was to send for such as newly arriued in the citie, to visit him: and as soone as they were come, and that he had saluted and welcomed them (according to the manner) to call for the tables or cards, and to bid his man make dinner or supper ready in the meane time, or to prouide a banquet according to the time of the day.

But in stead of preparing it, the bloudy butcher addressed himselfe to slay them when his master Francisquino should giue him a signe: which course of life they had led so long, that (as the report goeth) when they were apprehended, and had confessed al their villanies, the carcasses of ten or fifteene men which they had thus murthered, were found cast in priuies. In fine, this was their punishmēt. After they had bene pinched with pinsers, they were ripped and bowelled, and their hearts being hastily pulled out of their bodies, were shewed them. But to returne to France, and to the boldnesse of these theeuish companions: this is recorded as a most memorable fact of two brethren borne in a certaine place betweene Niuer∣nois and Burgundie, neare to Vezeley, who were spitted vpon a stake some fifteene yeares ago for stealing the Kings treasure towards Briare: of whom this is worthy to be obserued, that they verified the old saying, Conueniunt rebus nomina saepè suis: for their sirname was Latro, that is, Theefe; neither did they bely their name, for as they were theeues in name, so were they theeues in deed. The report goes, that when the Kings officers came to apprehend them in a place whither they had re∣tired themselues, they defended themselues very couragiously, in such sort that one of them was slaine in the place before he would yeeld. Their fellow theefe called Villepruné was executed at Rome in the time of Pope Paul the third, to whom King Francis the first had sent his processe to attach him.

5 But what need we examples to proue that our age doth beare away the bell as well in this as in other vices, when we see that the weapons and instruments fit for the following of such a trade of life, haue not onely bene inuented of late, but are dayly renewed and (as it were) refined by sundry deuices: For, for whose sake (I beseech you) were guns inuented by a diuell in the shape of a Monke, but for theeues and robbers? For proofe hereof, since harquebuzes, pistols and pistolets of all sorts and sizes were in vse, who were the first (trow we) who not content to carry three or foure cases at their saddles, filled their sleeues and breeches with them? And by whom were those great slouching slops and swaggering hose (like little tubs or beere-barrels) first inuented, but by such good fellowes as wan∣ted a commodious place to harbour such guests? Now looke how much Germany is more famous then other countries for inuenting these instruments, so much are we the lesse to wonder that there should be so many good fellows to be found at this day that should employ them to that wicked end: though through the great care and vigilancie of the Princes of Germany, the number of them is well abated within these few yeares. We are not (I say) to wonder hereat, no more then at that which we reade in auncient writers of the Chalybes, who were the first smithes, at leastwise most expert and skilfull in that art. Yet questionlesse French theeues go farre beyond German theeues in subtill sleights and cleanly conueyance. Tou∣ching Italy (for I will now mention no other country) I haue euer knowne it lesse subiect to the danger of cutters: and verily during those three yeares and a halfe that I soiourned there (spending my time for the most part in trauailing from city to citie) I heard little or nothing of robberies by the high way. And I remember that being at dinner on a time with my Lord Odet de Selu••, then Embassadour for the French King at Venice, and hauing asked him the reason hereof, we grew to this conclusion, that Illis quidem erat animus, sed non satis erat animi: that is, that their will was good, but their heart was naught. For if we consider what manner of men they be that intermeddle in this cursed occupation, we shall find that there are not more desperate ruffians in the world, nor more lauish of their liues then they: seeing that ten of them (as I haue often heard it credibly reported) haue ad∣uentured

to set vpon twentie or fiue and twentie. And that Italians are not so des∣perate, nor so prodigall of their bloud, I report me to the answer which an Italian gentleman made to a forreiner with whom he was in deadly feud: for perceiuing that it stood not with his credit to auoid the combat, vnlesse he alleadged some pe∣remptory reason, he accepted the challenge. But changing his mind shortly after, when the time was come that they should meet in the field, his aduersary now tra∣uersing his ground, and expecting when his antagonist would enter the lists, he told him that he was a diuellish desperate fellow, and therefore would haue no dealing with him. But if we should iudge of all by one (may some say) we might twit all French-men with that which was spoken by a Pickard bragging of his va∣lour, who hauing vaunted that he had spent some yeares in the warres, and yet ne∣uer drew his sword, and demaunded the reason thereof, answered, Pource que ie n'entrois mie en colere: Because (quoth he) I was neuer throughly angry. But I dare be bold to say, that Italians haue oftener borne away the blowes and receiued the foyle of firy French-men, then French-men of desperate Italians. And though there were neuer a Pickard that could be moued to anger, yet the Gascoines are terrible fellowes, and hote enough to make the Italians quake like an Aspin leafe, and beray themselues for feare: though seuen or eight fond and foolish termes of warre which we haue borrowed from them, may (haply) make posteritie hold not onely the Gascoines, but all other French-men greater dastards then faint-hearted cowards and white liuered souldiers; as though we had learned all our skill in mar∣tiall discipline and warlike affaires of them, from whom we haue haue borrowed some ink-horne termes. But because I haue spoken my mind more at large else∣where, of the iniury which we do our selues in this behalfe, selling our honour to those of whom we borrow some triuiall and tapster-like termes, I will not prose∣cute this argument any further. To returne therefore to the matter in hand, whe∣ther it be for the reason formerly alleadged, or for some other (for we commonly say, that there are some good and some bad of all sorts): the cōmon opiniō is, that there is lesse robbing in Italy then in any other countrey. By robbers I vnderstand those good fellowes, who trusting not so much to the sleight and subtiltie of their wit, as to their strength and skill in their weapon, ioyned with brazen-faced bold∣nesse and audacitie, set vpon passengers with intent to borrow a bag or get a boo∣tie, though with hazard of their liues. For as for other sorts of thefts (as namely fil∣chings and pilferings) Italians (I must needs say) haue no fellowes, especially in subtiltie ioyned with impudency: which knacks of knauery and tricks of cunning conueyance, French-men newly arriuing, learne to their cost. Which I would not haue vnderstood of all Italy alike: for this I can say of mine owne experience, that trauailing from Rome to Naples with the ordinary post (whom they call Procaccio) I saw sundry passengers do that which I had not seen elsewhere in all Italy besides. For they were no sooner come to their Inne, but they vnsadled their horses, and carried their saddles vnto their chambers, where they might haue them euer in view, whilest they tooke their repast. Of which trouble, albeit my selfe and the rest of my companie were well eased (for, for a crowne a day, which each of vs gaue to the post (as the manner is) he mounted vs well, and defrayed our charges) yet I could not but pitie them who were put to those shifts: and I chanced to say that there could be no such danger as they imagined, in that it was not credible that any theefe durst presume so much vpon his cunning, as to vndertake so bold an at∣tempt. Which speech (though spoken in simplicitie) was preiudiciall to a certaine Flemming in the companie, who being thereby perswaded that there was indeed

no such danger, neglected the next day to carry in his saddle as the rest did; for he found after dinner that another had eased him of that labour: and then I confessed that these diuellish theeues were worse then I took thē for. Now this cals to mind an obiection which may be made against the rarenesse of robberies in Italy: for it may be said that there lie such sharp shauers in the high way between Rome & Na∣ples (except the coast be scoured, and the world wel amended of late) that trauailers are glad to get into the companie of the post, who doth not thinke himselfe safe e∣nough neither, vnlesse he haue a troupe of fifty or sixty horse at the least. To which I answer, that these foruscites which haunt the passages and high wayes, are not worthy to be named the same day with those good fellowes who braue it out in other places: for they feare no colours, but aduenture to set vpon twise or thrise so many as themselues; whereas these faint-harted foruscites (as I was then informed) neuer set vpon any (by their good wils) except they be two to one at the least. But I will leaue them to end their owne quarrels and controuersies among them∣selues. For I protest I am so farre from enuying Italy her great foison of resolute theeues and robbers, that I could wish with all my heart, that all the good fellowes which France and Germany will affoord these dozen yeares, would repaire thi∣ther.

6 But leauing Italy (into which I haue trauailed further then I purposed) I wil returne backe into France my natiue soyle, taking it in a generall acception for the countries bordering on euery side, and will begin wtih a gentleman of Sauoy who committed his robberies in or neare his house, betweene Lyons and Geneua (being called of the place Monsieur d' Auanch••) and I will speake of him as of a man of an odde disposition among a thousand good fellowes, as being a more cunning and gentlemanlike theefe (if I may so speake) then the vulgar sort, somewhat resem∣bling that archtheefe who kept such a ruffling in the raigne of Seuerus the Empe∣rour, mentioned before in the Chapter of Robberies: for herein especially he ex∣celled him, in that he would part stakes with those he robbed, if they yeelded their purses before his bloud was vp. Howbeit he was exceedingly hated for that he bare small affection to Monks and Nuns, and took pleasure in playing them many shreud turns, which were (as the prouerb saith) Princes sports, such as please those that act them. To omit the pranks which he playd with the Nuns of S. Claire at Geneua, I will onely relate two of his exploites, or rather of one deuided into two branches, whereby he made two Franciscans first very merry, and after very mad. For ha∣uing admitted them into his castle, and made them good cheare, to make an end of their good entertainment, he told them he would pleasure either of them with his pretie wench. Where they refusing his kind offer at the first, he requested them to make bold with him, telling them withall, that he well considered they were but flesh and bloud as other men. In the end he locked them all vp in a chamber together: and returning thither an houre after (or thereabout) he asked them how they had done in their new occupation. And vnderstanding they had not bin idle: O wicked hypocrites (quoth he) is this the way to ouercome temptation? And hauing so said, he stripped them (poore soules) as naked as my naile; and hauing whipped them as long as himselfe and his men could lay on loade, he sent them away all naked as they were, to teach them to fight another time more valiantly against such temptations, or not to giue them the encounter. But whether this la∣bour were well bestowed on them or not, I leaue to be decided at the next Councell.

7 In the meane time I thanke this good fellow with all my heart for putting

me in mind of a story recorded by Pontanus of certaine Arabian theeues, which is as memorable in his kind, and as rare an example as can be found (in my opinion) in any story, whether Greeke, Latin, French or Italian. Wherein we shall on the one side see a point of admirable wisedome in a man falling suddenly into the hands of theeues and robbers: and on the other side, a part of great humanitie in cruell cut-throtes, who had addicted themselues to this damnable trade. This gentleman called Robert * 1.16 Sanseuerin (who had bene a braue and valiant captaine in his daies) trauailing towards mount Sinai, to performe a vow which he had made (according to the great superstition which raigned in former times, and in part also within these hundred yeares) hauing descried certaine horsemen comming towards him, demaunded of his guide and guard (for he had safe conduct from the Soultan) who they were? They (poore soules) trembling for feare, answered that they were Arabians, the most desperate and dangerous theeues in the world. Where he was so farre from being danted with the feare of danger, that contrariwise he encoura∣ged his companie to be of good cheare, telling them that it was their best course to lay open their cariage, that when they came they might finde dinner ready, whereof he knew they stood in great need, considering they were toyled with the dust and heat. Meane time, whilest his men were making preparation as they were enioyned, he addressed himselfe to meet them, and saluting them very curteously (being a goodly man of person, as well for stature as feature) smiled on them, and bad them welcome; interlacing many pretie speeches by his interpreters, and thus kindly entertained them without bewraying his feare, or giuing the least signe of sinister suspition. The Arabians liking well of his speeches, willingly accepted his offer, and dined merrily with him, and after they had receiued some small presents departed, hauing so forgotten all their barbarous cruelties, that contrarily they thanked him heartily for their good entertainment. This is the story (gentle Rea∣der) whereof I kept thee in so great expectation, by which I hope thou wilt take no lesse content then my selfe. For certes we way well wonder hereat, especially considering what stories report of these Arabian theeues aboue the rest, in cruelty resembling Lions and such like sauage beasts: so that I perswade my selfe the Poets would no lesse haue extolled this chieftaine, then they did Orpheus for mollifying the hearts of sauage beasts by the sweet sound of his melodious harpe. And verily there are some theeues so cruell and currish, that it were better to fall amongst Ty∣gres, or into the Lions den, then into their hands. For that which Ouid saith,

Obsequium Tygres{que} domat, rabidos{que} Leones.

is found true by dayly experence. And that which he saith in another place,

Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrasse Leoni, Pugna suum finem cum iacet hostis habet.

cannot be called into question by any that haue read or obserued the nature of this beast; as my selfe once obserued a Lion practising the precept of Virgil containing the dutie and disposition of a generous mind, which is, Parcere subiectis & debel∣lare superbos. For he made much (as a man would say) of litle dogs which were put into his grate, and played the wanton with them; whereas he presently deuoured the great curres, tearing them in peeces, euen whilest he was playing with the litle puppets. As also considering what we reade of Orpheus his harpe, by which he mollified the hearts of sauage beasts, although it be spoken Poetically, and must (at least may) be meant of his eloquence, whereby he wonne the hearts of men, how barbarous soeuer they were. Howbeit we cannot denie but that Lions take delight in the melodious sound of musicall instruments, of which my selfe haue

had experience in a great Lion in the Tower of London, where whilst I with cer∣taine others beheld him, there came in a Musition which played vpon a violin (the number of such fidlers being great in England) who had no sooner begun to play vpon his kit, but the Lion leauing his flesh began to turne about, as though he would haue danced: and when he left of playing, he left his turning, and betooke him to his flesh againe: & when he began to play againe, he returned to his dance againe. Which spectacle and sport pleased me so well, that I could not content my selfe to haue seene it once, but came thither againe the second time, bringing o∣thers with me, (who, notwithstanding I had told them what I had seene, and affir∣med it to be true, yet would hardly be perswaded;) as also a Musition who played vpon another instrument, where the Lion danced and leapt about, as he had done before, albeit he had then no flesh as formerly he had. By this therefore which hath bene said, as also by that which sundry authors haue written hereof, we may safely conclude, that there is more gentlenesse & generous nature in some sauage beasts, then in some men, be they theeues or others. At leastwise the lamentable story of the voyage of French-men into Florida of America (in the yeare last past) doth, and so long as the world endureth will verifie this of certaine Spaniards: For (to o∣mit infinite other treacherous cruelties) we reade how that those who chose rather to yeeld themselues to the mercie of the Spaniards then of wilde beasts, were piti∣fully massacred euery mothers sonne; whereas they who chose rather to commit themselues to wilde and sauage beasts, and to expose themselues to infinite o∣ther dangers, escaped both with life and limme. Therefore by how much the cru∣eltie of some men is greater then of others, and by how much we esteeme these Arabians more cruell cut-throtes then other theeues; by so much are we to thinke this story more strange and admirable. The rehearsal whereof hath made me som∣what to digresse from the argument in hand.

8 Therfore to passe ouer this iust motiue of digression, and to come in a word to the point of our purpose; as there is great difference betweene incest and single fornication: so nature teacheth that it is a farre greater and more horrible sinne for a man to murther his kinsman, then one that is no way allyed vnto him; and yet more hainous to murther father or mother, wife or children, brethren or sisters. Notwithstanding we must needs confesse, that since the trade of assassins (I mean this bloudy butchering of men for a set price) came in vse, our age doth no lesse abound with ordinary and extraordinary murthers, then with the two kinds of whoredome formerly spoken of. Howbeit parricidie and fratricidie, and such like murthers, were neuer so hot among Christians as betweene the Guelphes and the Gibelins: the heate (or fury rather) of which deadly feud remaineth in Italy vnto these dayes, as well for the former quarrell as for other flawes and factions, as the histories of that country do sufficiently declare, and as they who trauaile into Italy may know more particularly. For as I trauailed with two others from Florence to Siena, two dayes after it was yeelded vp to the Duke of Florence, in the name of King Philip: I heard an old man (borne neare Siena) report very strange things, not impertinent to the argument in hand. For being demaunded what were the most remarkable things that were to be seene at Siena; Alas (said he) my sonnes, what do you thinke to see at Siena? Siena is no more Siena: you shall see no∣thing there but the horrible vengeance of God. And being asked what he meant thereby; I haue seene (quoth he) many a time and often with these eyes, kinsmen, yea brethren imbrue their hands in one anothers bloud for quarrels (God knows) arising vpon smal occasions. And he added, that their maner was to dip their hands

in the bloud of the slaine, and hauing rubbed their faces therewith, to shew them∣selues to their fellowes in this butcherly and beastly manner. These and the like speeches this old father who was aboue fourescore and ten yeares old vttered not without many teares; thanking God withall, that in mercy he suffered him to liue to see vengeance taken vpon them. For (said he) I doubted whether there was a God or not, when I saw such horrible facts remaine vnpunished. This is the good report which this old man gaue of his countrey. But would to God we were to seeke for examples of such pitifull occurrences onely in Italy, and that our ciuill warres had not eased vs of this labor, in furnishing vs with such store, that it is hard to say where we should begin such dolefull discourses. Howbeit we find elswhere moe examples then were to be wished, of which I haue alleadged some few in the tenth Chapter. To which (before I come to moderne examples) I will adde one more out of Pontanus, (the author of whom I borrowed the rest;) and will make choise of such a one as shall fit the argument in hand, touching murthers commit∣ted in Italy by one kinsman vpon another, by reason of deadly feud and factions. This worthy learned writer therefore reports, how that his ancestors being forced to abandon and forsake their natiue soile by reason of the ciuill warre, and hauing retired themselues into an odde corner of the countrey which they had fortified; so it was, that their enemies watching their oportunitie, surprised it on a time when it was slenderly guarded: who when they had taken it, assaulted the tower wherein Pontanus his great grandmother was, where her two brethren (who were of the contrary faction) called vpon her to yeeld her selfe; which she promised to do, vpon condition they would not hurt her children. But they refusing to accept the condition, set the tower on fire, and so burned their sister and their young ne∣phewes for the diuellish and damnable affection they bare vnto their owne fa∣ction.

9 But to come to moderne examples, and first to begin with fratricidie, we had in the yeare 1545. a very memorable (but a lamentable) example of one Iohn Diazius a Spaniard borne in Cuence in the kingdome of Toledo, whom I knew at Paris, where all godly and learned men had him in as good account as any stran∣ger that set foote in France these many yeares, being for his faire conditions and sweet behauior as it were another Abel. But let vs heare how he met with his Cain. After that he had made good proficiency in the study of Diuinity, and attained to the knowledge of the Hebrew toong, he could find no relish in the Romish religiō; whereas before he had bene plunged in it vp to the hard eares, after the Spanish fa∣shion (I alwayes except the Marranes:) which change so displeased his brother Alphonsus, who was then at Rome, (where he had bin a pettifogging sumner in the spirituall Court for diuers yeares) that after he had intelligence thereof, he could neuer rest nor be at quiet with himselfe. For hauing sought for him at Ratis∣bone, and finding him not, he went to Newbourgh a citie in Germany, vnder the do∣minion of the Count Palatine of Rhene, where after he had communed with him a long time, perceiuing that it was not possible to draw or diuert him from his opi∣nions, neither by menaces nor promises, nor any other remonstrances; he made semblance as though himselfe had bene caught by his brothers reasons, and won to the bent of his bow, purposing by this subtill deuice to draw him along with him to Trent (where the Councell was then holden) and from thence to Rome, and so to Naples, telling him that he might benefite himselfe much better in those parts then in Germany. Which counsell of his, though Iohn Diazius approued and liked well, in such sort that he was halfe perswaded to follow his carnall motion:

Notwithstanding being loth to do any thing without the aduice of those religi∣ous and learned men appointed for the conference at Ratisbone (of which num∣ber Martin Bucer was one) he acquainted them therewith; who hauing Alphon∣sus in iealousie, and doubting that it was but the copie of his countenance, and that he did but coūterfet a conuert, to the end he might peruert his brother, they al with one consent vtterly disswaded him from it. Alphonsus being thus frustrated of his hope, intreated him to beare him companie onely to Auspurge: from which also being disswaded by them, he determined to leaue him, hauing one onely man with him, who afterwards serued him in stead of an executioner, as by and by we shall heare. Hauing then exhorted him to continue constant in the profession of the truth, and shewed him all tokens of brotherly loue, kindly taking his leaue of him, and forcing a peece of money vpon him, he left him at Newbourgh, and tooke his iourney to Auspurge; from whence returning backe againe to Newbourgh the next morning, and leauing his horses at the towns end with a good fellow (whom he kept for the purpose) he came to the house where his brother lodged about the breake of day; where his man knocked at the gate, and enquired of a boy that came to the doore for one Iohn Diazius, saying that he had a letter for him from his brother Alphonsus. Whereof he had no sooner intelligence, but he leapt out of his bed from a friend of his, and casting his night-gowne about him, went out of the chamber into a withdrawing roome, whither he had appointed the messenger to come; his brother Alphonsus staying in the meane time at the staires foote. The messenger being entred in, deliuered his letter: where as he was reading it at the window (for it was not yet cleare day) he standing behind him, strooke him into the right temple with a hatchet which he had vnder his cloake: the violence of which blow was such, that it gaue him no leasure to tell who had hurt him. The bloudy butcher then fearing lest the body now ready to breathe forth the soule, should make a noise as it fell to the floore, layd it downe softly on the ground, and leauing the hatchet deepe in his head, returned to Alphonsus his master expecting him at the staires foot, as hath bene said. Diazius his friend (who was all this while in bed) suspecting that all was not well, rose vp to see where he was, and what he did. And he was no sooner come into the withdrawing roome, but he heard the spurres of the murtherers at the staires foot: and because he knew not whether they came vp or went downe, he made the doore fast at the staires head. But (alas) it was too late, as he knew shortly after, by that pitifull spectacle which presented it selfe to his view, not without horror and fearfull astonishment, as you may well imagine. But as soone as he could recouer himselfe, he drew neare to the corps lying vpon the ground, folding his hands & lifting vp his eies to heauen, as though he were praying. Thē pulling the hatchet out of his head, he perceiued that he had some life in him; in which estate he continued the space of an houre: so that when he heard any man call vpon God, he made some little signe with his eyes. This done, he called to those of the house, to the end they might be witnesses of this so pitifull a spectacle. Now what punishment was inflicted vpon these wicked mur∣therers, it is vncertaine, albeit most are of opinion that they escaped scotfree, for that the Emperour Charles the fift at the Popes intreatie writ in their behalfe, that their inditement might be deferred for a time, and that he with his brother Ferdi∣nando (vnder whose iurisdiction they were taken) would haue the hearing of the matter themselues. How euer it were, the constant report goeth, that certaine Spa∣niards at Inspruck were not ashamed to say that there was no euill in this murther, and that he which murthered an hereticke, was ipso facto absolued by the Pope.

Let vs now heare another like vnto this in substance, though much differing in circumstance: I say like to it in substance, in that one brother murthered another, but much differing especially in one circumstance, which may haply make it seem as strange as any murther committed these many hundred yeares. By this circum∣stance I vnderstand the non-age of a Cain murthering his innocent brother Abel. For I heard it reported, that about the yeare 1547. a child in a village of France neare Dammartin in Guole, who was but fiue or at the most sixe yeares of age, con∣ceiued such hatred against his brother because he had the greater peece of bread, that he stabbed him forthwith with a knife which he had in his hand, & slue him. In which story we may as in a crystall behold the wicked seeds of sinne, which na∣turally breed and (as it were) spawne in our hearts, not only in our non-age or in∣fancie, but as soone as we are crept out of the shell, and bewrayeth it selfe when we come to haue the least vse of reason.

10 But the world is full of examples of men that haue murthered their wiues: Italy especially, and therfore I hold it needlesse to insist vpon particulars. Notwith∣standing I cannot omit two very strange murthers, I meane such as for their plot∣ting and acting were extraordinary: for whereas such executions are commonly done rashly in heate and choler, these were committed of set purpose vpon a grounded and setled resolution. The one is of a citizen of Millan, who (as it was told me in a place neare Millan, about a dozen yeares ago or somewhat more) being in France, and hauing intelligence that his wife played false at tables and bore a man too many, being (as we may suppose) sufficiently informed there∣of, tooke horse and rid post to his house at Millan; whither he was no sooner come, but he called for his wife to the doore, who comming in all hast to welcome him home, being (as it seemed) very glad of his returne, receiued of him a coun∣ter-curtesie and a terrible cooling card with a stab of his dagger, after he had all to be rated her, calling her false, perfidious, disloyall, trecherous, and wicked wretch. And leauing her in such a case that he needed not to feare she would play false with him againe, he tooke horse and departed. The second is of a Switzard, who hauing taken his wife at vnawares playing the harlot, bore the iniury pati∣ently for a time; but hauing pardoned her in his heate (contrary to the common practise) he slue her a few dayes after in his cold bloud, saying he could not endure a woman that would play him such false play: he slue likewise his children and himselfe also, as after we shall heare.

11 Yet there are not (God be thanked) so many examples of women which haue murthered their husbands, though there be moe then a man would haply imagine. Among the rest an Italian Ladie called Frances Bentiuole is not to be for∣gotten, who perceiuing that her husband (commonly knowne by the name of Galeot Lord of Fauence) playd the man and stood to his tackling, in defending him selfe couragiously against the two murtherers which she had suborned and hired to kill him, that they had much ado to dispatch him, tooke vp a dagger, and with her owne hands gaue him his deadly wound. Now the hatred which moued her to commit this murther, was conceiued vpon a rumor blazed abroad in the citie, and whispered into her eares, that before he maried her, he had contracted him∣selfe to another citizen. A weightie reason no doubt. It is also reported, that a wo∣man dwelling neare Narbone being in bed with her husband, cut off his priuities, for that he had defiled the mariage bed: of which example I haue already spoken. But infinite are the examples of light houswiues who haue procured the death of their husbands, to the end they might more freely enioy the companie of their

paramours. And many haue poisoned them, that so they might more cunningly couer and conceale their villanie. For which crime my hostesse of the Lanterne at Paris was burnt about thirtie yeares ago. For her husband being loath at the first to drinke the wine which she had poysoned, because the colour of it was changed, yet aduentured to drinke of it after his man; and perceiuing by his sodaine death that it was of present operation, he preserued himselfe by an Antidote. The like punishment was inflicted vpon a gentlewoman of Brie in the same city, and much about the same time, for killing her husband in his bed, with intent to marrie her knaue, who was executed with her for company.

12 We haue also late and fresh bleeding examples of Fathers murthering their children: but two are famous and memorable among the rest, which may well go hand in hand, in that they killed their children without any cause or colour at all, for a thing which they could not helpe. The one is of an Italian, the other of a Switzard. The story of the Italian hath bene published before: howbeit I will not speake of it as fetching my authoritie from the printed pamphlet, but as being then at Padua my selfe where the murther was committed. About thirteene yeares ago a good fellow (named in, the printed story) being cast at Venice in a suite whereon depended his whole estate, was so out of tast with the world, and so despaired of Gods prouidence, that he perswaded himselfe there was no remedy but that his daughters when they came to age, in stead of being honestly maried, were of necessitie to go to the cōmon stewes. For preuenting of which so great an inconuenience, he was perswaded by one (whose counsell & aduice he had asked in the managing of this businesse) that it was his onely course to cut their throates whilest they were yong. And so he did one night, hauing the euening before bor∣rowed a Barbers razor. Being then at Padua (as hath bene said) when this tragicall euent happened, I could hardly refraine from going to behold this ruful spectacle: I meane these silly soules lying in that pitifull plight. But when certaine schollers, my companions (who had seene them) related vnto me the maner of their death, and how they lay wallowing in their bloud, it imprinted such a liuely sense of compassion and cōmiseration in my mind, que non me bastaua l'animo, (as the Ita∣lian speakes) that I could not find in my heart to see them. They further told me, that there were three in all, one of which had her hand almost cut off, which she had vsed (as they supposed) as a buckler against the fury of her father; who (as it was afterward reported) cast himselfe headlong from the top of a rocke not farre from Tirole, whither he had fled to saue himselfe. The second is of a Switzard, who hauing taken his wife at vnawares playing the strumpet, and pardoning her for the present, changed his mind not long after, and repealing his pardon, slue her with his owne hands, saying he could not endure to see her liue that had played him such false play. And hauing slaine her, he dispatched his children also; saying, he would not haue his children called bastards. And the report goeth, that after he had thus embrued his hands in their bloud, he layd violent hands vpon himselfe also, throwing himselfe from the top of a house, or (as others say) of a towre, hauing first written in a paper (which was found about him) the fact which he had committed, and the reasons that moued him thereunto, viz. that knowing himselfe to be but a dead man in law, he chose rather to be his owne executioner, then to vndergo an ignominious death. By which examples we may perceiue that the diuell is as full of his subtill sleights and stratagems, and as cunning a knaue as euer he was. Now these two examples do suite each other (as hath bene said) in this very thing, that these men slue their children without cause or colour at all,

for that whereof they were as innocent as the new borne babe.

13 And haue we not examples (on the other side) of parricides, that is, of children murthering their parents? Yes (God knowes) and that euen in France it selfe, which had lamentable experience hereof not long ago. For Anno 1565. Sep∣temb. 28. this accursed enemy of mankind had such power and command ouer a yong man dwelling in Chastillon sur Loing (a gracelesse griffe vnworthy to grow vpon such a stocke) that he caused him to take vnto him the heart, not of a man, but of a beast, nay worse then of any brute and sauage beast, in cōmitting so cruell and so vnnaturall a fact. And for as much as the Lord of the said place (a man for his vertues, especially his wisedome, admired at this day, and beloued of all men) hath thought good to publish this storie in print: I hope it wil not be taken amisse, if treading in his steps, I here make a short abstract and abridgement thereof. The storie is this. Iohn Guy the sonne of Emé Guy a * 1.17 capper in Chastillon sur Loing, had bene a very loose leud boy, and a notable vagabond euen from a child: in which dissolute courses he had bene fleshed and animated by the ouer-great indulgence of his father. Now it happened vpon a Saturday (the day before specified) that swaggering abroade and keeping reuell rout (as his maner was) he came not home till very late in the euening: whereupon his father was exceedingly incensed a∣gainst him, and told him, that seeing he continued his reuelling in this sort, there was no remedie, he must thrust him out of doores. Whereunto he answered very boldly and saucily, that he was readie to be gone, if he had his apparell. These spee∣ches thus passed ouer, his father went to bed. Howbeit he was no sooner layd, but he was inforced by menacing threats to commaund him silence, considering his round replies in that fierce and furious manner. In the end, seeing all was in vaine, and that his menaces nothing auailed; being no longer able to endure his long and proud replies, he rose in great anger to correct him for his saucinesse. Now when he perceiued his father comming towards him in that maner, with intent to beate him, he caught hold of his sword which hung in the chamber, and therewith ran him through in a trice, so that he sunke downe presently, crying out that he was slaine. The neighbours amazed at the crie, came rushing in, and the Iustice shortly after, where they found the poore man lying all along in the place, expecting no∣thing but present death, which arrested him not long after: and his sonne standing by him dressing himselfe (his sword lying by him all on a goare bloud) who not∣withstanding that his father moued with compassion, and forgetting his vnnatu∣rall dealing and crueltie towards him, had willed him to saue himselfe, saying, Saue thy selfe, saue thy selfe my son, I forgiue thee this my death; and that his mo∣ther also had perswaded him thereunto, yet God in his iust iudgement so held him backe by the reines of his prouidence, that he had not the power to stirre a foote. Being then demaunded by the Iustice, what had moued him to kill his father in that vnnaturall and barbarous manner; he answered, that he neuer meant to kill him, but that he might thanke his owne heate and hastinesse, in running so despe∣rately vpon his sword which he held in his hand onely for his owne defence. This is the history as touching the fact. But forasmuch as the foresaid pamphlet, where∣by it was first published, containeth many remarkable points which ensued here∣upon till the time of his execution, very worthy our obseruation (for in the mora∣litie consists the fruite and profite which we are to reape by this historie) I shall intreate the Reader not to take it in ill part, if I be somewhat more large and pro∣lixe in the rehearsall hereof then I haue bene in the rest. For assuredly considering the very name of parricide is so horrible and hatefull to all, I would not haue pro∣secuted

this storie so farre, had it not bene of purpose to speake something of his conuersion, to the end I might shew as well Gods great mercie, as Satans great enmitie against mankind; the poison of which passion he bewrayes against such as keepe not sentinell ouer their hearts, and stand not vpon their guard. This mur∣therer then thus attached, by course of iustice was sent to prison, and witnesses were produced, who deposed that he had bene very disordered and vnruly of a child, despising for the most part his parents admonitions and reproofes, notwith∣standing they had alwayes receiued and entertained him in the kindest manner, whensoeuer he cried peccaui. His inditement being drawne, he was sentenced by the Iudge of Chastillon the Saturday following, to haue his right hand cut off vpon a scaffold in the market place, right ouer against his fathers house, both his paps to be pinched with red hot pinchers, and afterwards to be hung by the feete vpon a gibbet, and strangled with a stone of sixe and twentie pound weight tied to his necke, where he was to hang the space of foure and twentie houres; and last of all to be hung vpon the common towne gibbet, there to remaine. But he ap∣pealed from this sentence, being perswaded thereunto by a wicked wag-halter who had bene a false coyner, and for his misdemeanour condemned with him, and sentenced to be sent to the gallies: from which he had also appealed. Where∣upon they were sent to prison againe, to the great tower within the Castle, till such time as they should be conueyed to Paris; during which time many resorted vnto them, especially to visit this Parricide, to see if they could bring him to a sight and sense of his sinne, and so to be the instrument of a soules saluation. But perceiuing that he conceiued no otherwise of his offence then of a pettie fault, they vnfolded vnto him the hainousnesse thereof, and the fearefull iudgements of God which would ouertake him for the same, not onely in this life by the sword of the magi∣strate, but likewise after death by his finall doome, if he did not confesse the fact and acknowledge his fault, that so he might haue recourse to the throne of grace, euer open and of easie accesse to those who with a true sense and sorrow for sinne vnfainedly desire pardon and reconciliation, in assurance to be heard. But he ne∣uer gaue the least signe that he was any thing moued with these remonstrances, but still answered that he had appealed, & that he had not slaine his father, but that he ranne vpon his sword, the scaberd falling off to the ground. This was all that could be wrong out of him at that time. And albeit they plyed and pressed him againe and againe, yet could they not bring him to a sight and sense of his sin: for the more they labored to discouer and lay open the enormitie and hainousnes of his fact, the more he excused and cloaked the same, saying to himselfe, Ah wicked wretch, I might haue escaped if I would, and my father knowing he had receiued his deadly wound, counselled me so to do; but then (foole that I was) I would not listen vnto him. They then told him that it was not in his power to stirre a foote, or to moue a finger without Gods permission and prouidence, and therefore that he might assure himselfe it was the will of God he should not flie away, but tarry by it, and abide the triall, that so he might be brought (if it were possible) to ac∣knowledge his offence, and that receiuing condigne punishment for the same, he might serue as an example of his diuine iustice. Moreouer, they exhorted him to make vse of this chastisement and correction, and to consider that the prison is Gods schoole, wherein he was to learne how he hateth and abhorreth sinne, ma∣nifesting his iust iudgements vpon the wicked when it seemeth good vnto him, either by the sword of the magistrate, or otherwise: whereunto he answered not a word. Howbeit in the end, after they had pressed him further by sundry like spee∣ches,

the more to aggrauate his offence by euery circumstance, he confessed that he had such a hard heart & cauterized conscience as was incredible: making signes in the meane time as wel with his head as with his hands, whereby they perceiued that God began to worke in his heart, and thereupon they propounded the mer∣cie of God as before. Now after they had spent many like speeches to rouse vp his drowsie conscience from that dead slumber which had seazed vpon him, they were aduertised that the false forger (formerly mentioned) had perswaded him to be of good cheare, and to lay nothing to heart, but to prolong his life by all meanes possible. Whereupon order was taken they should be sequestred one from the other, that so this wicked wretch might no longer poison him with such pesti∣lent perswasions, who put them in some better hope when he heard no more of them. Neither was their hope in vaine: for being solitary and alone by himself, he thought more seriously vpō their speeches, in such sort, that he confessed to the iaylour and others, that he had highly offended God, in that he had so wickedly and wilfully murthered his father, and that he had iustly deserued death; desiring withall that the Bailiffe might be sent for, saying he would desist from his appeale. Whereupon they exhorted him to make a holy vse of those godly admonitions which had bene giuen him, telling him withall that he did well to giue ouer his appeale, seeing he should escape neuer the sooner, and that it was much to be fea∣red lest appealing to the Court of Parliament at Paris, they would be so farre from mitigating the seueritie of his punishment, that they would adde to the rigour thereof. Meane time came a Minister of the word, who plied him so with pithy perswasions, that he brought him to acknowledge the hainousnesse of his sinne, and to aske God forgiuenesse, in such sort that perseuering in this acknowledge∣ment, he ceased not to vtter many good and godly sanctified and sauorie speeches, by which he gaue cleare euidence that God had miraculously wrought in his hart. And persisting in his former resolution of forsaking his appeale, he aduertised the Bailiffe hereof: whereupon he was executed accordingly the Munday following. Where it is to be obserued, that frō that time forward, till the hang-man had made an end, and parted two old friends, this poore patient (and now penitent parricide) had God and Christ euer in his mind and mouth, still crying to heauen for mercy and forgiuenesse: being armed in this his last conflict with such constancie and heauenly resolution, that he neuer twicht for any torment, nor once changed countenance; which strooke an amazement into the minds of the multitude. He that desires to haue a more ample discourse hereof, may haue recourse to the fore∣said pamphlet.

14 As for women which haue murthered their children, I perswade my selfe there are but few to be found which murther them after they are once growne in yeares. Howbeit many there are, as well of those which kill their newborne babes, as of those who execute their crueltie vpon them in the wombe before they see the light of the Sunne. And doubtlesse this murthering of children in the wombe (to begin with it in the first place) is a very ancient sinne. For the Greek Poet Pho∣cyllides gaue a caueat to the women of his time to take heed of it. And Ouid like∣wise (another Pagan Poet) sharply censureth a huswife for the like offence: adding withall many excellent disswasions to that end. And it was one branch of Hippo∣crates his oath (as we know) neuer to minister nor prescribe women any thing that might cause abortion, or any way endanger the fruite of their wombe. Now there are two maine reasons of this wicked practise. Some do it for feare they should be knowne to haue playd the wantons and lost their virginity: or (to speake

somewhat more generally) for feare of being disclosed to haue had to do where they ought not, be they maried women or widowes. Others for feare of abridging and shortning their youth, especially for feare of that which Ouid speakes of.

Scilicet vt careat rugarum crimine venter, Sternetur pugnae tristis arena tuae.

And as for the shortening of their youth, the same Poet saith.

Adde quòd & partus faciunt breuiora iuuentae Tempora—

Notwithstanding whose testimonie, we find it true by dayly experience. I haue further heard of certaine gentlewomen, and my selfe haue knowne some who made no bones to weare poytrels or stiffe stomachers, endangering thereby the life of their child: and to the end they might not lose the credit of hauing a fine slender bodie, made no conscience to destroy that which should haue bin as deare vnto them as their owne liues: I speake of such huswiues as miscaried in the cari∣age. As for those murthering Medea's who made away their new borne babes by casting them into ponds, priuies, &c. Nunneries within these few yeares would haue funished vs with store of examples, as well as of those which murther them in the wombe. Neither want we examples of former ages: for Pontanus saith of his time: Quod quidem execrationis genus maximè Sacerdotes attingit, qua Deo virginitatem quum vouerint, pollutis tamen votis, ritu{que} sacerdotali periurantèr atque incestè contaminato, grauidae factae, ne scelus pateat, execrabiliori conantur scelere id ip∣sum prohibere ac corrigere: dum aut medicaminibus adhibitis abortionem procurant, aut partum statim ipsum exanimant, terrae{que} aut cloacis clàm infodiunt. Now when I say that we might haue found store of such examples within these few yeares; my meaning is not, that it is so hard a matter to find some at this present: but that the number was then farre greater then now it is, as well in regard of the multitude of Nunnes, as for that they were in greater feare of losing their good name, if once they should haue bene knowne to haue played fast and loose, then now they are, considering their ghostly fathers are not so strict and stoicall, but that they will (if need be) giue them phisicke for the greene sicknesse. Moreouer, in that they see sundry Nunnes leaue their Nunneries, I meane their brothel-houses and beds, and betake themselues to the marriage bed, where they liue orderly and well: it makes them looke a little better to their consciences before they go about such murthers. Yet it cannot be denied but that this wicked murthering of poore inno∣cents extendeth it selfe beyond the Cloisters, not onely to mariageable maides who are vnder the mothers wing, or in the gouernement of their kinsfolks, (euen to such as are worshipfully & nobly descended) but to widowes also: which the said Pontanus hath not concealed touching those of his time. For he further ad∣deth: Nec verò monstrosa hâc feritate sacerdotes tantùm, verumetiam viduae, ac nubi∣les puellae, splendidissimae{que} etiam foedantur familiae. But maidseruants of all other are oftenest taken tardie with this fault, and they onely (poore soules) are called co∣ram before the magistrate, according to the old saying alleadged before out of Iu∣uenal, Dat veniam coruis, vexat censura columbas. For I haue often seene such at Pa∣ris hanged for this crime, and none but such. And I remember I once saw an Ana∣tomie in the Phisicke schooles of a maid that was hanged for casting her child into a priuie. To this purpose it is which the said Pontanus addeth in the sequell of that history: Vir maximè notus, mihi{que} perfamiliaris aedes quum emisset, emundaret{que} latri∣narum sordes, inter{que} emundandum accurrisset subitam ad exclamationem redemptoris operam eam facientis, animaduertit infantuli cadauerculum sordibus illis inuolutum.

And verily none should be better acquainted with such secrets then midwiues, were it not that the maner is to go to their houses, and after they haue blindfolded them, to leade them to the place where the trauailing woman lieth, whom they also maske or muffle for feare lest the midwiues (who must of necessity haue their faces vncouered) should know her. This I can say of mine owne knowledge, that I once heard a midwife report, that she was not onely thus hoodwincked (a practise that would be found common at this day, if diligent enquirie were made) but that the child also was murthered before her face, as soone as it was borne. And that she did no sooner begin to exclaime against that so hainous and horrible a fact, but she was in danger to haue bene serued with the same sawce by these murtherers and their complices. She further added, that they hung the chamber (in which the woman was deliuered and the child murthered) with white cloth, to the end she might take no notice thereof: and that they conueyed her backe a∣gaine to her house hoodwinked as before. By this we may see what murthering minds some women beare. True it is indeed, our Ladies at this day need not to take so cruell a course, considering they haue so many prophylactica to keepe their bellies from tympanizing. Touching the currish crueltie or rather fury and firy af∣fection of women against ther owne bloud: Pontanus recordeth a farre stranger fact then any yet mentioned, of certaine which stifled their children with their owne hands as they were comming from betweene their feete; not so much for feare of hauing their whoredome and harlatry knowne, as to be reuenged of their husbands. Whereof he seemes to speake as of a thing which fell out in his owne time. For hauing discoursed at large of the foresaid villanies committed in those dayes, he addeth, Compertas audio etiam vxores, quae vt viros hoc iniuriarum genere insectarentur, aut illatas ab illis iniurias vlciscerentur, hac potissimùm ratione in lucem venientem prolem proprijs eliserint manibus. Howbeit I cannot thinke that so des∣perate and diuellish a desire of reuenge could euer enter into the heart of any Frenchwoman: and God grant that France neuer finde a race of such Medea's. But here I am in some doubt whether I should with silence passe ouer those wo∣men who commit their children to the first nurses they meete with, neuer enqui∣ring of their qualities and conditions, nor of their skill and will to performe their dutie; nor yet whether they be sound or sickly, of a good or a bad constitution, as rotten, pocky, leaprous, &c. Who after they haue once rid their hands of them, and committed them to their care and custodie, seldome or neuer take thought for them, or remember them, till they heare the passing bell go for them, they being ready to giue vp the ghost. Notwithstanding I dare not call such mothers murthe∣rers, (especially when they haue a iust excuse to exempt them from the perfor∣mance of this dutie:) Yet thus much I dare say (let them take offence that will, it skilleth not, so that wise and modest matrons be not offended) that they are more cruell then the very heathen, who exposed their children to the wide world, re∣commending them (as it were) to the starres and destinie. If they shall alleadge for themselues, that all children which fall into the hands of such nurses, neither die, nor otherwise miscarry: I answer againe, neither do all die that are exposed. For fortune is so fauourable to some, that they may thanke God, that euer they were exposed: whereas children committed to such nasty nurses, either die shortly af∣ter, or carry about them such diseases and maladies, as make them miserable all their liues long. By which we may see how far women at this day degenerate from the natural affection of the Queene (formerly mentioned) who was so highly of∣fended with one of her Ladies for giuing her child sucke; so loath she was it should

haue any nurse saue her selfe, and so iealous (as it were) of imparting this honor to any other. But sithence I am come by good occasion to speake of the custome which in times past was common among the heathen of exposing children, my purpose is not to giue it so generall a passe, but to discourse of the difference be∣tweene these Pagans, and those who haue the name, and beare the badge of Chri∣stians. First then I confesse, that this custome of exposing children hath had small or no entertainment among Christians, as sundry Greeke and Latine authors do sufficiently witnesse. For it hath not bene heard that enfans trouues (as the French call them) were euer exposed by any, but by such as were pinched either with po∣uertie or feare of infamie. Albeit Monasteries at this day, stand many of these mur∣thering Medea's (who are neither vrged with the one, not pressed with the other) in the same stead that exposing did in old time: which vnnaturall and cruel course they take, lest through the multitude of children they should be constrained to keepe a meaner house and carry a lower saile. And hence it is that many parents make their children beleeue, that they haue vowed virginitie, which (God knows) they neuer meant; and vnder colour hereof confine them in some monastery in their yonger yeares, whilest they know no more what virginitie meanes then lit∣tle girles, who put the finger in the eye when they are called maides. But what curses and imprecations children thus mued vp, vse against their parents when they come to yeares of discretion, is more then notoriously knowne. The questiō then is, whether they do not as good as murther them, whē they force the stream against his course, in compelling them to enter into such a state of life, wherein they cannot liue without falling into horrible pollutions, which cease not to pull the fearful iudgements of God vpon their heads. For mine owne part I am of opi∣nion, that by how much the soule is more precious then the body, by so much this murther is greater then the former.

15 I might here adde sundry other sorts of murthers, at leastwise facts as hainous as any murther, as of griping vsurers and such as by sinister meanes grind the faces of the poore people, and sift them to the very bran, as pettifogging proctors, prow∣ling promouters, and chicken Iustices, who are therfore rightly called cōmon cut-throates, bloud-suckers, and cormorants of a countrey. But I will content my selfe with these before specified, and come to those that are felons de se (as Lawyers speake) whose examples ought the more to humble vs, in that they shew vs what great power the diuell hath ouer vs, when we giue him but the least aduantage, and stand not vpon our guard by holding him out at the staffes end: I meane when we quench not his firy darts by the shield of faith, and beate them not backe by the sword of the spirit. For though Pagans made little or no conscience to make away themselues, and though most Philosophers approued it by precept, & some also by their practise; yet the Christian world was neuer so corrupt, but that it hath euer condemned these felons de se, and razed them not only out of the num∣ber of Christians (by denying them Christian buriall) but euen of men; notwith∣standing they haue bene frequent and common in all ages, as histories record. First therefore to begin with women (as we did before with the fact of Lucretia) we reade how that the mother and her two daughters (in the raigne of Diocletian the Emperour) vnder colour of doing their easement, light out of their chariot, in which they were caried to Antioch, there to forsweare Christian religion, and to sacrifice to the Emperours Gods, or shamefully to be intreated, and afterwards put to death; cast themselues into a certaine riuer, and there were drowned. And prophane story affoords vs sundry examples of maides, who chose rather to lose

their liues then their virginity. Whereof we haue sundry presidēts euē at this day, and that in both sexes. Among the rest I remember how a woman of Switzerland, about nine or ten yeares ago, vnderstanding that he whom she had admitted into her bed, was not her husband, but a knauish companion that had deceiued her, fell into such a sea of sorrow, that she drowned her self. And we read in the Queen of Nauarres narrations, of the pitifull death of a gentlewoman who hanged her∣selfe for very griefe that a Franciscan had had the vse of her body. But more of this hereafter, when we come to intreate of the whoredoms committed by our good Catholicks. I haue also heard of certaine women who dispatched themselues in great fury & rage, for that their husbands had cut in sunder the true loues knot, and profaned the nuptial bed, when they could not be reuenged of them that were ri∣uals of their loue: as also of others, who vpō other occasions haue laid violēt hands vpon themselues. Neither doth this hard hap befall the weaker sexe onely; for we find that many men also haue bene drawne or rather driuen to do execution vpon themselues. And concerning the profanation of the nuptiall bed, let vs here againe call to mind what happened in a towne of Switzerland (about twenty yeares ago) how a man hauing taken his wife in the like fault, and pardoned her for the pre∣sent, repented certaine dayes after, and slue her; and not her onely, but the chil∣dren also which he had by her, saying, he would not haue his children called ba∣stards: and hauing so done, cast himselfe headlong from a high steepe place, and brake his necke. In whose bosome a paper was found, wherein he had set downe the reasons which had moued him to commit these murthers, especially to make away himselfe, viz. that knowing himselfe to be but a dead man in law, he chose rather thus to end his dayes then to be put to a shamefull and ignominious death. Which putteth me in mind of that which Pontanus relateth of an Italian Lord, who hauing slaine him whom he suspected to haue bene naught with his wife, was watched so narrowly by his brother, that being out of all hope to escape, he first slue her with his owne hands, and his children after; and hauing so done, threw himselfe from the highest tower of his castle. I haue heard it also credibly reported, that a citizen of Padua hauing slaine his daughters being but very yong, some few dayes after cast himselfe from the top of a rock, in the selfe same place whither he had fled to hide his head. As for those bloudy murtherers of the dou∣ble die, which make away not onely their children but themselues also, I will here record as tragicall a story as is to be found (in my opinion) in any historian, aunci∣ent or moderne, which (as some relate it) was lately acted in Beausse, as followeth: A certaine husbandman (who was reasonably well to liue) binding sheaues in the field, sent his sonne of an arrand home to his house, and being greatly offended with him at his returne, for that he stayed longer then he expected, he threw a clod at him, and hit him such a blow on the head, that he strooke him starke dead, so that he fell groueling downe to the ground; whereupon hauing couered him with sheaues, he went home to his house in a desperate mood: where finding his wife bathing her selfe, and giuing her yong child sucke (whereof she was deliue∣red not many weeks before) he went into his barne and hanged himself. His wife hauing intelligence hereof by one who had occasion to go into the barne not long after, leaping out of the bath in great feare, left her child so heedlesly in the bath, that it fell into the water, and so was drowned. Where she (poore soule) amazed, and almost beside herselfe to see her husband hang in that ghastly manner, and finding at her returne that her child was drowned, was driuen into such an extasie of despaire, that she went backe againe into the barne, and locking the doore

vpon her, hanged her selfe by her husband. Where note the mischieues that came thicke and three-fold, one in the necke of another: the father killing his sonne, & the mother drowning her child against their wils; and both of them in like des∣perate mood hanging themselues. Onely here was the difference, that she drow∣ned her child through meere ouersight, and he killed his sonne by meere chance and casualtie: for according to the common saying, He often killeth who thinkes but to hurt.

16 Now as men are driuen to this extremity of distresse and despaire, not onely vpon these or the like, but vpon sundry other occasions: so many there are who for other causes haue made away themselues. For which purpose I might alleadge a packe of villanous vsurers, who by the iust iudgement of God▪ haue had no other executioners then themselues: And all such generally as are tormented with that inward fury of an accusing conscience, are subiect to this so infamous and detestable kind of death. For after they haue once iudicially arraigned and condemned themselues in the Court of Conscience, by a strange kind of procee∣ding, they put the sentence in execution in as strange a manner. For example: A Secretary in a towne of Switzerland hauing bin sentenced by his conscience (in such sort as hath bin said) vnderstanding that his knaueries were too well knowne: albeit his heart had often failed him, yet in the end he did open exe∣cution vpon himselfe, euen then when his keepers thought him furthest from danger. For though they kept him for the present from hurting of himselfe, ha∣uing found him in the bath stabbing and lancing his body with a pen-knife, yet the same day he made a scape from them, and leaping out of a window brake his necke. And here I may not forget Bonauenture des Periers (author of that damnable booke called Cymbalum mundi) who notwithstanding the paines which was taken in watching of him, (for that they saw him in a desperate mood, ready vpon euery light occasion to sacrifice himselfe to his owne shame) fell vpon his sword, the point running in at his breast, and out at his backe. But we haue an example of a farre more strange and dangerous distresse (consi∣dering the occasion) in Francis Speira an Italian: and so rare in this kind, that it will hardly be paralleled either with auncient or moderne: for he made himselfe away by such a death as other desperate and diuellish minded miscreants would not willingly choose, viz. by a long and a lingring death; for he famished and pi∣ned himselfe away, obstinately abstaining so long from all manner of sustenance, till he had starued his soule out of his body, as we may reade in Sleidan and other historians.

CHAP. XIX. Of Crueltie practised at this day.

ALbeit the murthers formerly mentioned be not altogether voyde of crueltie; nay, though some of them breathe forth (as it were) no∣thing but barbarous, sauage, and cruell immanitie: I will notwith∣standing alleadge some few examples hereof apart by themselues; yet not all our moderne examples promiscuously which offer themselues to my pen, but such onely as are rare and extraordinary, exceeding the vulgar sort. And albeit our last ciuill warres might serue as a plentifull store∣house

to furnish me with choise of matter, yet I will beware how I harpe vpon that string, lest rubbing of old sores, I should make the wounds of many to bleed afresh. Neither will I speake of the cruelties executed at Merindol and Cabriere, which being but barely related in the high Court of Parliament at Paris by the Atturney Aubery and other Lawyers, caused the auditors to stop their eares, they were so hideous and horrible. This one thing may giue sufficient testimonie of the enormitie and hainousnesse thereof, in that Iohn Me••ier Lord of Oppede, ring-leader in this dance, as being chiefe President of the Parliament of Prouince, and Lieutenant generall for the King in that country in the absence of the Lord de Grignan, could not find souldiers cruell enough to his liking, notwithstanding he had made choise of the veriest bloudy butchers that were in a country, com∣manding them (among other his Canniball-like cruelties) to rip vp women with child before his face, & to tread their babes vnder their feet. O currish crueltie, wel worthy that horrible death which befell him, not by the hand of man, but by the iust iudgement of God, the searcher and seer of all secrets! And this persecution raised against the poore people of Merindol and Cabriere, is so much the more fa∣mous, in that they led a great army against these poore soules, who neuer desi∣red any thing more then to yeeld themselues, neuer attempting nor once inten∣ding to resist and make head against them: but humbly intreating that they might be suffered to vse the liberty of their conscience in their priuate houses, and not to be inforced to admit of the Romane religion; at leastwise that they might be per∣mitted to flie into some other country vpon such condition as they should thinke good.

2 But leauing this history, I proceed to other examples of crueltie, nothing inferiour to that in Herodotus, which notwithstanding is thought by many so in∣credible. For where is the man to be found, who hearing what he reporteth of Herpanus, viz. how he was serued with the flesh of his owne sonne, and how he are thereof at a feast, to which he was inuited by Astiages King of the Medes (ne∣uer suspecting he should haue bin serued with such a sawce, nor entertained with such a dainty dish) will not presently fancy it to be as very a fable as that which the Poets haue fained of Atreus, who made his brother Thyestes: eate his owne children? Notwithstanding we find as great cruelties practised in these dayes. For Pontanus reporteth how that certaine Italians hauing taken one of a family with which they were in deadly feud, chopped him forthwith into small peeces, and hauing pulled out his liuer, broiled it vpon the coales, and ate of it (euery man his morsell) with great reioycing, vsing sundry solemne ceremonies and merriments therewith: I will here set downe his words at large: A••iam meam Leonardam, ra∣rissimi exempli matronam, non sine multis lachrimis puer audi••bam referentem, quàm inter digladiantes quasdam inter se familias inimicitia summis exercerentur odijs, cap∣tum quempiam factione ex altera, eum{que} è vestigi•• concisum in minutissima etiam fru∣sta: mox{que} exemptum illi iecur, in prunis candentissimisque carbonibus ab factionis eius principibus tostum, pérque buccellas minutim dissectum, inter cognatos ad id inu••tatos in ••entaculum distributum. Quae aut luporum tam exanhelut•• rabies, aut sauientis pro erep∣ta prole tigridis hanc ipsam superauerit? Allata etiam post degustationem tan•• execrabi∣lem p••cula non sine collecti cruoris aspergine: congratulationes habita inter se, risus▪ i••ci••, leporésque cibum ipsum condientes. Denique & dijsipsis propinatum tanta vindicta fautoribus. Quid hic exclamem nihil habeo, ni ••ortè, &c. Which story cals another to mind to this effect. A certaine gentleman bearing great affection to a maried gen∣tlewoman, went into the warres; where he intreated his fellow-souldiers, that if

it were his chance to be slaine in the field, or otherwise to die, they would take his heart and present it vnto her with certain speeches which he deliuered vnto them. After his death (which happened not long after) his heart was taken and kept by the gentlewomans husband (who had bin informed of the request he had made to his fellowes,) and he was no sooner come home, but he caused his cooke to dresse it in such curious manner that his wife a••e thereof, thinking of nothing lesse then of such meate. Whereupon asking her how she liked it: she answered, she li∣ked it well. You cannot chuse (quoth he) but like it well, for it is the heart of your best beloued. She straight perceiuing his meaning, tooke the matter so to heart, that she neuer ate good morsell after: neither had she need; for she died shortly after for very griefe. Which fact I haue not here set downe to parallele it with the former crueltie, but only to shew his sauage nature in causing his wife to eate mans flesh. For (all things being well considered) it will appeare that this his currish kindnes towards her, was rather rigorous seuerity then ouergreat crueltie. In like manner a Dutch gentleman punished his wife for playing the strumpet, rather rigorously then cruelly: who hauing slaine the gallant, (to whose lust she prostituted her selfe) appointed her his skull to drinke in, in stead of a cup. The same (in my conceit) may be said of a gentleman of Piemont, who hauing taken his wife in the fact, caused her together with the old bawd (which had holpen her in this businesse) to strangle the gentleman with whō she was found, and to beare the dead corps company all their liues after: for he closed them round within a wall, leauing them onely a little hole, by which they might receiue bread and water. Such facts (I say) are rather to be reckoned in the number of ouer-rigorous pu∣nishments, then of ouer-cruell reuenge: as that which I haue alleadged out of Pon∣tanus, which as it may be paralleled with the fact of Astiages recorded by Hero∣dotus, and that of Atreus mentioned by the Poets; so are there sundry in this age which may as fitly be paragonized with that of Medea. At leastwise I can readily furnish the Reader with three. The first is that which I haue already alleadged out of Pontanus, of those murthering Medea's, who to auenge themselues of their hus∣bands, stifled their children comming from them with their owne hands. The se∣cond of a huswife of Millan, who (as Bandel reporteth) finding not how to wreake her malice vpon her husband, who was diuorced from her for adultery, being with child by him (albeit he knew not so much) let loose the raines to her rage, and wrought her wreake vpon the fruite of her womb, whereof by violent means she was deliuered three moneths before her time, and after so cruelly massacred it, that I had rather it should be read in the writings of Bandel, then in mine. The third likewise may be taken out of the same author, where he speaketh of a yong Spa∣nish damsell, who hauing prostituted her selfe to a gentleman in hope of mariage which he had promised her (although she was but of meane and base parentage) and hearing afterwards that he was maried to another, conceiued such hatred a∣gainst him, that she wrought her wits how possibly she might compasse his death: In the end she vsed this policy, she perswaded him by her flattering letters to come and visit her; and the time being appointed when they should meet, she earnestly expected his comming, hauing made all things ready (with the help of an old bel∣dame) to welcom him to her house in such sort and manner, as her fierce and out∣ragious malice (inflamed with extreme desire of reuenge) should counsell her. To the end therfore she might the better come to the period of her intended purpose, and accomplish her designes, though at the first she entertained him with com∣plaints and grieuances, yet by and by after making as though she rested fully satis∣fied

with the reasons which he alleadged, and that she was somewhat appeased, she yeelded to his impotent affection, to play the wanton with him as before. Where∣upon they went to bed together, where she stil expected when to find him sound asleepe, that she might execute her furious enterprise▪ Neither failed she of her purpose for not content to haue giuen him many deadly wounds (being awaked at the first blow, and perceiuing himselfe so intangled in the cord which the old trot had drawne, that he could neither moue hand nor foote) she tyrannized ouer the dead corps by sundry sauage and barbarous cruelties, before she could quench the heate of her rage. For which cruell murther, she hauing voluntarily confessed the fact (at least bewrayed and betrayed her selfe by her words) was beheaded, and the old bawd also, as Bandel saith. Howbeit others (following Paludanus a Spani∣ard who hath written this story in Latin) affirme that she was neuer taken. How euer it were, we may see the fact of a right Medea in the glasse of this example, as well as in the former: which whosoeuer shall duly consider, cannot thinke that strange which Herodotus reporteth of Amestris wife to King Xerxes, how she ha∣uing procured her husband to deliuer his concubine into her hands, cut off her dugs and cast them to the dogs, as also her nose, eares, lips and tongue; and hauing thus mangled and disfigured her, sent her backe againe to her house. To conclude, if the question be touching the greatnesse of womens crueltie, we are first to be resolued of that which Iuuenal saith, that they are superlatiue in their reuengefull desires: secondly of that which Ouid discourseth of at large, viz. of their mad mali∣cious minds, especially when any encroch vpon their free hold, and disturb them in their possession. His words are these:

Sed neque fuluus aper mediâ tam saeuus in ira est, Fulmine•• rapides dum rotat ore canes: Nec lea, cum catulis lactentibus vbera pr••bet, Nec breuis ignaro vipera laesa pede: Foemina quàm socij deprensa pellice lect•• Ardet, & in vultu pignora mentis habet. In ferrum flammas{que} ruit, &c.

That is,

More fierce and fell was neuer chafed Boare, While with his angry tusks he all doth goare The busie Mastiffe: nor no Lionesse, Whose suckling whelps her empty teats do presse: Nor the short Viper hurt with heedlesse gate▪ Then is the wife that finds a riuall mate Vnto her loue and bed: and in her browes The signes of her conceiued hatred showes.

For further confirmation hereof, I will alleadge one other example out of Philip Commineus, and that in his owne words, as followeth.

For shortly after, the said King Lancelot was poisoned at Pr••ge in Bohemia by a noble woman (whose bro∣ther I haue seene) with whom he was in loue, and she also with him; who being out of patience because he had maried King Charles the 7. his daugther (now cal∣led the Princesse of Vienna) contrary to his promise, poisoned him in a bath by gi∣uing him an apple to eate, putting the poison in the haft of the knife.

Thus farre Comminens: where he further reporteth that the king of Hungary cast one Matthias into prison (who was King after him) hauing first slaine his elder brother. Now we may well imagine how she would haue entertained the Queene, if she had

had her in her hands.

3 But to returne to these sauage cruelties executed in way of reuenge: Ponta∣nus records a notable example which fell out (as it seemes) in his dayes. A slaue of Mauritania being buffeted by his maister and almost beaten to death, to the end he might be auenged of him, and put an end to his wretched and miserable life, he tooke this course. Hauing espied his time when his master was gone farre from his house (which stood in the countrey) he locked and barred the gates as well as he could, and hauing bound his wife hand and foote, he caried her and her three chil∣dren to the top of the house, there expecting his masters returne. Who comming home, and finding the gate shut against him, began to threaten his slaue as he she∣wed himselfe from the house top. The slaue answered that he would by and by make him sing another song: and forthwith threw downe two of his children. The poore man (their father) remaining for a time amazed and confounded at this spe∣ctacle, and more like a dead man then a liuing creature, yet comming at last to him selfe againe, thought it his best course to entertaine him with faire language, and to promise him not onely pardon for the two murthers already committed, but also manumission and freedome, to the end he might (at leastwise) saue his third sonne. And so did. But the slaue replied and said, Thou mayst fawne and flat∣ter, and make faire weather with me as long as thou wilt, but I will not spare him for all that, except thou wilt cut off thy nose. The poore man (in hope to saue his childs life) accepted the condition, and cut off his nose. Which he had no sooner done, but the slaue cast him downe from the top of the house, and his wife after. And hauing so done, seeing his master torment himselfe in that manner, and cast forth such horrible outcries, said, Thou mayst hang thy selfe if thou wilt, but I wil keepe my selfe (I warrant thee) out of thy fingers. And hauing so said, cast himselfe downe headlong from the roofe of the house.

4 Now albeit the crueltie which is exercised in this and such like reuenge, be exceeding great, yet it is much more increased, and (as it were) redoubled by those who in wreaking their malice vpon their enemies, wrap in others also with them, who (to vse an old English phrase) cannot do with all. As it fortuned about sixteen yeares ago in a city in Italy (at Boulongne if my memory faile me not,) where a ma∣licious minded miscreant so extreamly thirsted after reuenge, that finding no other meanes how he might cry quittance with his enemy, layd gunpowder in his cel∣ler, and afterwards set fire to it, and so blew vp the whole house; where not onely his enemy, but sundry others were murthered with him. Others, no lesse cruell then the former, in stead of reuenging themselues vpon those that haue any way iniuried them, either because the parties are dead, or for that they dare not encoū∣ter them, reuenge themselues vpon those that are meere innocents, onely because they are allied vnto them, or are their friends or countrimen. Whereof this age wil affoord sundry examples, not only in matter of common hostilitie, but also of pri∣uate enmitie. As the said Pontanus relateth how the Italian Lord hauing slaine one who (as he supposed) had played the knaue with his wife, was so straightly besie∣ged by his brother, that hauing first made away his wife and children, he cast him∣selfe headlong from the highest tower of his castle. Hereupon (I say) he relateth, how that he which besieged him (called Corradus Trincius) perceiuing that he had escaped his hands, and that he had lost his hint and oportunitie of reuenging him∣selfe, cruelly murthered all that he could meet with, who were either kith or kin vnto him. And not so onely, but chopped them in peeces like herbs to the pot, and scattered them in the fields and highwayes: the like he did with their bowels

also. His words are these: Corradus Trincius, qui Fulgin•••• Vmbria imperitauit, c••∣so Nicolao eius fratre à praefecto arcis Nucerin••, ob adulterij suspicionem, praefectum ipsumita expugnara aggressus est, vt ille, amissâ tandem omnispe euadendi, interfectis prius vicora & liberis, sese •• summa turri deiecerit, ne viuus in Corradi potestatem per∣ueniret. Itaque Corradus deceptus opportunitate in viuum illum s••uiendi, quot quot fami∣liares, cognatos, amicos, notos, quique cum illo consuetudinem exercuissent aliquam, cap∣tos, cruciatos{que} ad excarnificationem, ad vltimum comminus in frusta, exenterari{que} im∣perauit, ac per sentes maxime{que} frequentium viarum sep••s ac margines eorum vis••era intestin••{que} suspendi ac passim dispergi: vt ••eque aut vindictam appellare hanc possis, aut punitionem. But some do worse then all this; when not content to reuenge them∣selues vpon their enemies, they wreake their malice vpon their kinsmen and ac∣quaintance.

5 There is yet another kind of crueltie practised rather in sport and in a mad merriment then in way of reuenge: whereunto Princes and great Lords are more addicted then men of base or meaner place. Whence grew the prouerbe, (applyed to such as please themselues in keeping reuell rout, and playing the pike in a pond): These be Princes sports, they please them onely that do them. Which puts me in mind of that which I saw done by a yong Nobleman, who was no sooner presented with two great English mastiues, but the toy tooke him in the head, to make triall of them vpon the legs of a poore boy, how well they could bite: and letting them loose at him, he quickly perceiued what they could do: which was a pitifull spectacle to all saue himselfe. And now (gentle Reader) consider how the Athenian Iudges would haue censured such a fact, when they put a yong man to death, onely because he tooke pleasure in putting out of birds eyes; taking it as a pregnant proofe of his future crueltie. But to returne to those that play the bloudy butchers with such as neuer offended them, (nay which are neither kith nor kin, nor yet countrimen to those that iniured them) the said Pontanus writeth of an I∣talian captaine whom he calleth Nicolaus Fortibrachius, who carried a dumbe man with him whither soeuer he went, laden with halters▪ and when the fancie tooke the foole in the head to hang any that he met with (to the end he might haue some sport) he would make a signe to the dumbe man, and then the whoreson would straight put a rope about the parties necke, and trusse him vp at the next tree. In which pastime the kind captaine tooke such pleasure, that if any one day had passed ouer his head, wherein he had not done some such execution, it grieued him as much as if he had lost so much time. He further maketh mention of one Riccius Monteclarius, whose manner was to kill men in kindnesse, and gently to cut their throates, tempering his crueltie with mimicall conceits. For when he was minded to murther any, his manner was to entertaine them very friendly, and to inuite them to a feast, and to aske them how many glasses of wine they would drinke with him, and how many morsels of such or such baked meate they would eate: and hauing demanded these friuolous & ridiculous questions, he would presently stab them with his dagger till he had killed them.

6 Moreouer, crueltie shewes it selfe in excessiue punishments, to which pur∣pose the said Pontanus alleadgeth an example of the King of Naples Lieutenant, who not content with the punishment prescribed by law, caused malefactors to be sawne in peeces ouerthwart the back. It further bewrayeth it selfe in those that take pleasure in inuenting of new torments, whether with intent to practise them themselues, or to teach them others who may put them in execution. Which puts me in mind of a good fellow who published a book about fiue and twenty yeares

ago, full of pictures of racks, and all kind of tormenting instruments, which the wit of man could possibly deuise. But we may not here forget the iust iudgements of God which haue befallen the inuentors of these cruell torments, as well in this as in former ages. For as Perillus hauing presented the cruell tyrant Phalaris with a brazen bull, which might serue him in steed of a fornace to burne men in, was constrained to take the first triall thereof, and to feele the smart of it himself (as be∣fell Arnutius Paterculus with his brazen horse:) So Philip Commineus telleth vs how the Bishop of Verdan, who first shewed King Lewis the eleuenth the inuen∣tion of iron cages, was the first whom the King mued vp in one of them, and that for fourteene yeares together. We reade also of sundry sauages who first felt the smart of their cruell counsell giuen against others. And thus much touching the leudnesse of the Laitie. In the next place we are to borrow a word or two with our good Catholickes of the Popish Cleargie.

CHAP. XX. Other examples of the wickednesse of this age, especially of such as * 1.18 terme themselues Cleargy-men.

WE haue already heard what inuectiues the good Preacher Menot maketh against the Cleargie of his time: and we know how S. Ber∣nard (long before) cried out against them. Let vs now see if they did repent at the last, and turne from their wicked wayes, making bene∣fite of such reproofes. What say I, benefite? Nay, they were more obdurate and hardened thereby. For as light huswiues before they haue put off their peticoates are as nice as a Nuns hen, and shew some few sparks of shamefast∣nes and modesty; but when they once perceiue that their licentious leudnesse is brought to light, and that they are vpon the stage, and their liues in euery childs mouth, keepe open house for all comers, and are more lauish both of their lips and lap, yea ten times more exorbitant, in spite of all that speake against them: E∣uen so for all the world did Cleargy men (at leastwise the greatest part) when they once perceiued they could no longer conceale their symonies, villanies, whore∣domes, lecheries, and such like loose and dissolute demeanour, of all which I am now to intreate. For as for their false iugling & erroneous doctrine, wherwith they haue so pestered the world, I am to discourse hereafter apart, towards the end of this booke.

2 Neither wil I now busie my self with their haukes & hounds, as Menot doth, nor with their whores and concubines, nor yet with their crosier staues & myters, viz. how many they should haue (I speake according to Menot who calleth two bishopricks two myters, and two Abbayes two crosier staues) neither with their election, as whether the holy Ghost be president there, or that spirit which had the greatest stroke in the election of Pope Syluester (according to those historians who do not affirme that the diuell was chosen Pope, & called Syluester the second: but that he obtained the Popedome by the helpe of the diuell, to whom he had giuen himselfe body and soule long before.) But will briefly shew that which e∣uery man that hath his eyes in his head, may easily perceiue, as well in these as in sundry other particulars, how that since the time of this Preacher they haue in such sort made forcible entrance and taken possession of the things which they

could not then peaceably enioy, that if he were now liuing he would easily see it were but lost labour to dispute against them. For it is not to be thought that a Popish Prelate will beate his braines now adayes to know whether his benefices be competible or incompetible: how many liuings, how many whores, how ma∣ny hounds and how many haukes he may keepe. For suppose he haue three cart loades of benefices (if it were possible,) fiue or six heards of whores, and as many hounds as the Cardinal had whom the good Preacher Barelet mentioneth (which were neare a thousand) yea and as many hauks as all the Princes in Christendom (prouided alwayes that he beware how he speake or do any thing for which the Pope his maker may be moued to depriue him:) he is in the meane time dispen∣ced with, as being an honest man: and besides authorized to employ his fiue sen∣ses in whoredome and lechery, in despite of the French pocks and the knaue-bald disease (for excommunication hath no power ouer these Ladies) and to keepe (if need be) a dozen of bawds for the purpose. And when his stomacke will not serue him for these, to seeke out daintie bits for his tooth in the very middest of Nunneries (otherwise called monasteries of reformed women) into which it is not lawfull for any secular man to set foote. But if * 1.19 they chance to be weary with continuall change, or through remorse of conscience betake themselues to one only, and passe their promise to marry her; then are they in danger (forsooth) to be depriued of their liuings, & seuerely to be punished. Wherof we haue late & fresh examples in two moderne Bishops (both I take it yet liuing) who had no better excuse for themselues then to say, that she that was holden to be their wife, was but their concubine or whore. But whether this excuse will passe for paiment before Gods tribunall, let themselues iudge. Howsoeuer, it is not much vnlike that which I heard frō the mouth of the late deceased Archdeacon of Hardas (being at Padua with the Cardinall of Tournon) who said,

The diuell take all those maried villains who are permitted to eate laced mutton their bellies full:

which he spake generally of all the Cleargie, but it arose vpon speech had of a Bishop, who was secret∣ly maried, as it was reported. This was the sentence of this charitable Archdeacon. Now whereas I haue so often called the Pope their maker, be it knowne vnto them, that in so speaking I vse but their owne phrase, saue that they apply it rather to Cardinals then to Bishops: as when they say, Such or such a Cardinall is such a Popes creature; as they know well who haue bene in place where such things haue bene debated. True it is indeed, that in a Councell where this question was pro∣pounded, An sint Episcopi immediatè à Christo, an medtatè à Pontifice, a Bishop (who was in a pelting chafe for that they had moued his patience) cried aloud, Parcat mihi Dominus Christus, non sub abapso: which I heard related by a Bishop who told me that he heard it from his owne mouth. Howbeit I do not well re∣member whether he said it was in the last Councell or in the former. But sure I am that in a Councell it was, where (as he further reporteth) a certaine Doctor seeing himselfe encountred and foiled with certaine texts of Scripture, alleadged for his excuse: Ego non sum Theologus, ego sum Canonista.

3 Howbeit we are not so much to wonder at the Popes greater creatures (who are now growne to such power, credit and account, that they scorne to seek for a dispensation of their creator, to authorize them to liue in all wantonnesse, riot and dissolutenesse, as himselfe doth) as at his lesser creatures, who liuing in some sort vnder discipline, and (as it were) vnder the rod, ought in all reason to be more afraid to offend for feare of the whip. But if I shall demonstrate and shew that euen they also runne with ful swing after their lusts and pleasures, letting loose the raines

to all licenciousnesse, notwithstanding all restraint which ought to withhold them, let the Reader iudge what will become of the rest. By the Popes lesser creatures I vnderstand the single soled Priests, both blacke and white Friers, both Mendi∣cants and Redituaries (if I may vsurpe this goodly Latin word Redituarij) and to be short, all such as are but mushroms and baggage in respect of fat Abbots.

4 But before I come to decipher and lay out their loose life and dissolute de∣meanour in orient colours, and instance the same by particular examples, I cannot omit that which is notoriously knowne at this day (which notwithstanding may haply seeme incredible to posteritie) how that not long since the weightiest argu∣ments which they could alleadge to proue a man to be out of the right Romish Church (and therefore worthy to fry a fagot) were these: That he was no whore∣monger, no drunkard, no swearer, nor blasphemer, and that he did alleadge the Scriptures. In so much that a certaine Fryer being accused to the Bishop his Dio∣cesan to be a Lutheran, was acquitted by him as cleare of the crime obiected, be∣cause he wanted none of the foresaid qualities. Whereupon an Epigramme was made, which for the good grace it hath, deserueth here to be inserted, especially considering that (to my knowledge) it neuer came to light before.

Esse Lutheranum rumor te Gaurice clamat: Sed tuus Antistes te tamen esse negat. Tam scortaris (ait) quàm si vel Episcopus esses, Et potas dubiam peruigil vsque diem. Nec memor es Christi, nisi cum iurare libebit. Nec scis Scripturae vel breue Iota sacrae: Nempe per haec sueuit nunquam fallentia signa Ille vigil sanas noscere pastor oues.

That is (if I hit it right)

Rumor reports thee for a Lutheran, Thy ghostly father counts thee no such man: For whores thou haunt'st (saith he) with lustie chase, As if thou wor'st a myter by thy place. Thou reuelst so (beside that wanton play) That euermore thou drink'st the night to day. Of Christ (saue when thou swear'st) thou thinkst no whit, Nor know'st one letter of the holy writ. By these sure signes (that neuer faile their master) Are all ••ound sheepe knowne of their carefull pastor.

But let vs heare the description of the vertuous qualities of Friers, made by ano∣ther Prelate.

Pour nombrer les vertus d'un Moine, Il faut qu'il soit ord & gourmand, Paresseux, paillard, mal idoine, Fol, lourd, yurongne, & peu sauant: Qu'il se creue à table eu beuuant, Et en mangeant comme vn pourceau. Pourueu qu'il sache vn peu de chant, C'est assez, il est bon & beau.

That is,

If that I must in order tell, What vertues long to Monkish cell:

He is not fit for Cell or Couen, That's not a glutton and a slouen: Sluggish, lecherous, for nought fit, A drunken dolt deuoyd of wit. He must eate at each repast, Vntill his belly welnigh braist. He must guzzell in the wine, Till he be drunken as a swine. And if he can but chant it well, This man is fit for Quire or Cell.

To which testimonies these prouerbiall sayings agree very well, As fat as a Frier, As frolicke as a Frier, &c. And these verses put me in mind of a poeme which wil ease me of some labour in gathering the sweet doings and demeanour of these dis∣pling Friers (though they haue not the like meanes that Prelats haue:) which not∣withstanding I would not haue vouchsafed once to haue alleadged, but that it hath as good a grace, and runnes as roundly as a man would wish.

1

Mes freres, ie vous priez de suiure Quelque honneste façon de viure En simplesse & sobrieté▪ Et laisser vostre ebrieté, Eguillon de toute malice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

2

Voire, mais viuans sobrement, Vous seruiriez Dieu purement: Et puis chacun auroit enuie De suiure vostre bonne vie. Mieux vaut suiure vertu que vice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

3

Mais c'est chose à Dieu detestable, D'estre assis trois heures à table A yurongner & gourmander. Voulez-vous point vous amender, De peur que Dieu ne vous punisse? Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

4

Mais ayant beu vingt fois d'autant Nul de vous n'est iamais content, Sentant vuider son gobelet. Car il demande à son valet Qu'incontinent il le remplisse. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

5

Mais vos deuis & vos propos Sont tous de putains & de pots, Aussi pleins de lasciueté Que vous estes d'oisiueté: Et tousiours songez à malice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

6

Mais pensez-vous seruir à Dieu, Blasphemans son Nom en tout lieu, Et ne pensans pour pe nitence,

Fors qu'à croistre vostre pitance, Ou crocheter vn benefice? Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

7

Mais pensez-vous qui soit assez De prier pour les trespassez Qui ont fait du bien au conuent, Si vous ne priez Dieu souuent Que sa grace vous soit propice? Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

8

Mais quel seruice appelez-vous D'ainsi murmurer contre nous, Tout confondre en piteux desordre, Et despiter Dieu, nous & l'ordre, Si vostre pitance appetisse? Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

9

Mais dequoi seruent tous vos chants, Quand vous estes trompeurs meschans, Qui n'auez vertu ne science Qu'à regratter la conscience De quelque femmelette nice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

10

Mais que sert d'aller au moustier, Et Psalmodier le Psa••tier, Et rechanter en cent façons Versets, Antiennes, leçons, Ayans le coeur à la saucisse? Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

11

Mais quoi? vostre deuotion N'est rien que simulation, Et vostre chant melodieux N'est à Dieu sinon odieux, Aimant pur coeur qui le benisse. Monsieur nous faisons le'seruice.

12

Mais c'est peu de seruir de bouche, Si le seruice au coeur ne touche. Auoir l'esprit à la cuisine En chantant au temple matine, Ne sert qu'aux poulmons d'exercice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

13

Mais pour le seruice diuin Vous faites seruice de vin, En fredonnant vos doux accords. Mais que nourrissiez vostre corps, Peu vous chaut que l'ame perisse. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

14

Mais vous estes si desreiglez, Et en vous maux tant aueuglez, Qu'il n'y a homme si sauant Par ses raisons vous poursuiuant,

Qui de rien amender vous puisse. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

15

Mais vous ne donnez iamais rien, Et ne vous chant quand ne combien, Ne qui, ne quoi, n'en quelle sorte On vous donne & on vous apporte, Mais que le conuent enrichisse. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

16

Mais vous n'auez ni soin ni cure De lire la saincte Escriture, De l'estudier ni entendre, De la retenir, & l'apprendre Au s••t & ignorant nouice. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

17

Pour responsè au Souprieur faire, Le conuent dit, qu'il n'y a frere Qui n'accomplisse & ne consente A l'exhortation presente, Et de bon coeur n'y obeisse. Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

18

Mais quand ie di, Frere Simon, Pourqu•••• n'allez-vous au sermon? Frere Gring••ire & frere Gille Que ne preschez-vous l'Euangile? Chacun dit, Ie fai 〈…〉〈…〉, Pater, en disan•••• seruice.

19

Or ne sauroit-on tant prescher, Tant exhorter, tant reprocher Leur mauuais train, pour les confondre, Que ne les ••yez tous respondre, Quelque chose que dire puisse, Monsieur nous faisons le seruice.

That is,

1

To you sir Friers this sute I make, That some good course of life ye take, In single heart and sobernesse, And leaue your dayly drunkennesse, Which of all ill doth stirre the fire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

2

Ye do: but if you sober liue, To God ye shall right worship giue: And in the people breed a strife, To tread in steps of your good life. Vertue then vice hath better hire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

3

But vnto God 'tis detestable, To sit full three houres at the table, In drunkennesse and belly cheare. Why do ye not amend this geare?

Lest God you punish in his ire? An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

4

But when y'haue drunke carowses twentie, If once ye find your mazors emptie, Not one of you doth rest content, But cals for fresh replenishment Vnto his nouice or apple-squire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

5

But what's all your discourse and talke? Of queanes, and how the pots may walke. As full of lust and wantonnesse, As you your selues of idlenesse. Ye muse of ill in towne and shire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

6

But thinke you, God ye serue aright, His name blaspheming day and night? Ne're thinking of contrition, But how t'encrease your pension, Or some fat benefice t'acquire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

7

But thinke you t'is enough at least, To pray for such as are deceast, And to your Couent something gaue? While you ne pray that God ye saue, And with his grace your hearts 〈◊〉〈◊〉, An't please you (Sir) we serue 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Quire.

8

But what a seruice call you this? If of your commons ought ye misse, In spight of God, vs, and our calling, To make such murmuring and such brawling? Enough to set the world on fire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

9

But wherefore serue your songs so graue, When each you playes the cosining knaue? And hath no vertue nor science, Saue to vexe womens conscience, Which are full nice in their attire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

10

But what auaileth't to go to Kirke, To sing the booke of Dauids werke: To descant in an hundred sorts Your Lessons, Anthemes, and Reports: When pudding is your chiefe desire? An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

11

But this your inuocation, Is deepe dissimulation. And these your songs melodious, Are vnto God but odious, Who doth the praise of th'heart require.

An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

12

But little auailes to sing with voyce, Except the heart sing and reioyce. It is but exercise of lungs, To straine your sides and wag your ••ungs, The while your mind's at kitchin fire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

13

But you in stead of worke diuine, Best seruice offer vnto wine: Their Ayres you chant most sweet and fresh, And, so you pamper may the flesh, You care not for the soule a brier. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

14

But you are so inordinate, So hoodwinck'd in your foule estate, That not the wisest man aliue, Can argument so well contriue, T'amend the life of Monke or Frier. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

15

But nought you giue, and all you take, Regardlesse how, and for whose sake, Of whom, or why, (so that you haue The thing your greedy gut doth craue:) What care you so y'enrich the Priour? An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

16

But neuer comes it in your head, The sacred scriptures once to reade: To study them, or marke their frame, To thinke thereon, or teach the same Your nouices, for thanks or hire. An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

17

For answer vnto the Subpriour, The Couent saith there's not a Frier, But well accepts and doth fulfill This exhortation, heart and will. Obedient as child to sire, And all say (Sir) we serue the Quire.

18

But when I say to him, or him, Why mist you sermon, Frier Sim? Sir Giles, and you sir Gregory, Why preach you not the Gospell? Why? An't please your worship, saith the Frier, I do my dutie in the Quire.

19

And thus they answer all and each, (What ere we say, what are we preach:) Nor can the voice of man so sound, As their ill guises to confound: But still in answer they conspire: An't please you (Sir) we serue the Quire.

But seeing I haue honored the Laitie so farre as to register their liues and actions thus authentically (as it were) in the court roles, from point to point, I feare me I should be holden an enemy to our holy mother the Church, some lurking Lu∣theran or odde Huguenote, if I should not make as honorable mention of her obe∣dient children the Catholike Cleargy.

CHAP. XXI. Of the lechery and whoredome of the Popish Cleargie.

FIrst therefore to begin with whoredome: let vs see to what height it is growne since Menots time. Est filia seducta (saith he, fol. 82. col. 3.) quae fuit per annum inclusa cum sacerdote cum poto & cochlcari (at bed and boord) hodie venit ad confessionem: vis dicere quòd cras debet ire ad dormiendū cum Canonico, vel cū alio sacerdote, & sic perseuerare toto tempore vitae suae? Moreouer he saith that the first prey that souldiers sought for whē they entred any towne, was Priests lēmans (or concubines.) But if I durst be so bold, I wold speake of the infamous tribute which was wont to be exacted of Priests, to the end they might be dispenced with for keeping of lēmans, which hath also borne a shameful name. And such as desire to know the originall of such sweet doings, may here see it. In the first Councel of Toledo (which was holdē (as the story saith) in the raigne of the Emperors Arcadius and Honorius:) to the end it might appeare what holy spirit was then president in Councels among a nūber of Prelates there assembled, this canon was agreed vpon for the keeping of Concubines. Caeterùm is qui non ha∣bet vxorem, & pro vxore concubinam habet, à communione non repellatur; Tamen vt vnius mulieris, aut vxoris, aut concubinae, (vt ei placuerit) sit coniunctione contentus. And about two hundred yeares after, Isidore (as Gratian quoteth him in his great dunghill of decrees, dist. 34.) hath written hereof in these words: Christiano non di∣cam plurimas, sed nec duas simul habere licitū est, nisi vnam tantùm, aut vxorē, aut certè loco vxor••s (si coniux acest) concubinam. Whereupon Priests inferred, that seeing such liberty was granted to common Christians by vertue of this text, they which made others Christians had a larger priuiledge, and so haue vtterly reiected ma∣riage, as too strict a rule. But as for keeping of concubines, they so notoriously a∣bused themselues and their neighbours wiues, that Germany (in the raigne of the Emperour Maximilian) amongst many other grieuances against the Church of Rome (called Grauamina) exhibited two to this effect (concerning the foresaid tri∣bute) grau. 75. Insuper etiam clericos religiosos{que} & saeculares, accepto ab eisdem annuo censu, publicè cum suis concubinis, pellicibus & alijs id genus meretricibus illegitimè co∣habitare, liberos{que} procreare sinunt. Againe, grau. 91. Item in locis plerisque Episcopi & corum officiales non solùm tolerant sacerdotum concubinatum, dummodo certa persolua∣tur pecunia, sed & sacerdotes continentes, & qui absque concubinis degunt, concubina∣tus censum persoluere cogunt, asserentes Episcopum pecuniae indigum esse: quâ solutâ, lice∣re sacerdotibus vt vel coelibes permaneant vel concubinas alant. But they not content with their concubines or whores, haue further by subtill sleights abused honest and chast matrons. For proofe whereof the Queene of Nauarre relateth a very memorable and tragicall history, which I will here briefly set downe. There was a Franciscan lodging in the house of a gentleman of Perigort (whom the Frier ruled

at his pleasure, and by reason that he was his confessor, was very inward with him) who being priuie and after a sort author of the purpose which the gentleman had to lie that night with his wife, (deliuered but 3. weekes before) played his part so well, that he came before the appointed time in stead of her husband. And hauing satisfied his lust, went away vnknowne vnto her, because he spake neuer a word: & going presently to the porter, willed him to open the gate, and to helpe him to his horse, making him easily beleeue what he listed, by reasō of the great credit he was in. Afterward came her husband at the time appointed; where she (thinking it had bin he who was newly departed from her) could not refraine, but vsed certaine speeches vnto him, wherby he perceiued the knauish part that had bin playd him. And because there lodged none in that part of the house but his wiues brother & the Franciscan, he suspected the Frier, and hyed him straight to his chamber, but found him not, which greatly increased his suspition. But hauing spoken with the porter, he was fully perswaded that it was he indeed. Whereupon he returned back to bring his wife word how the matter stood: which did so exceedingly perplexe her, and driue her into such a desperate & furious fit, that being there all alone (her husband hauing left her to pursue the Frier) she hanged her selfe: and as she strug∣led too and fro in the agony of this cruell death, she killed her little babe, with a blow of her foot. Who being ready to giue vp the ghost, cried out so loud, that it awaked a woman lying in the chamber, who hauing beheld this pitifull spectacle, all amazed and affrighted ranne to looke for her mistris brother: who being come, and seeing his sister in this lamentable estate, after many outcries and deepe sighes asked her who it was that had committed that horrible fact; she answered she knew not, but this she knew for certen, that none came into the chamber but her ma∣ster. Wherupon he presently ransacked euery corner of the house to find him out: and finding him not, was the rather perswaded that he and none but he had com∣mitted the murther. Thereupon he tooke horse and hotly pursued him, and wat∣ching him by the way as he returned from following the Franciscan (whom he could not ouertake) he no sooner saw him but calling him dastard and villaine, drew vpon him. The other (hauing no leisure to enquire the cause of such an as∣sault) was faine to stand vpon his guard. And thus they continued foining and fighting, till in the end, what with bleeding, what with wearinesse, they were con∣strained to surcease. Then the gentleman vnderstanding of his brother in law, that he was innocent and ignorant of the fact, and hearing what the Franciscan had done, and how that whilest he was pursuing him, this other mischiefe had happe∣ned, he cried him mercy for wounding of him, and getting him on his horse (as well as he could) brought him to his house, where he died the next morning, con∣fessing to his kinsfolks and acquaintance that himselfe was the cause of his owne death. Howbeit his brother in law was counselled for satisfying of the law, to sue for his pardon to King Francis the first, which he obtained. By which story we see that the inordinate lust of a Monke was the death of three persons. But we shall hereafter heare of a more horrible fact committed by another of the same coate: a Frier of the same fry, who with his owne hands committed three murthers to at∣chieue his mischieuous purpose, which was to haue his pleasu••e of a gentlewo∣man of the house where he lay: for the effecting whereof, his purpose was to con∣uey her to his couent. But I will reserue this narration for the Chapter where I in∣tend to speake of murthers and manslaughters. Meane while this one thing I must needs say by the way, that it was an vsual thing with those displing Friers in former times to conuey gentlewomen to their Cloisters, stealing them away either in the

Church (when for deuotion they stayed somewhat longer then their fellowes) or in some other place where they might do it conueniently. As may appeare by that knowne storie, of a gentlewoman who was rescued by her husband as she passed by his house coming from a couent of the Franciscans (where she had bin long time prisoner) to go to another, there to be exchanged for another woman; being conducted by certaine ghostly fathers, apparelled and pouleshorne as they were. But lest any should thinke that there neither is, nor euer was any such danger for gentlewomen to fall into the hands of these false Fryers: I am not in such hast but that I can tell you what befell a butcher of Strasbourgh, some few yeares before the Franciscans were expelled thence. How that hauing lost his wife, & thinking she had bin dead (and so she was indeed to him, but not to the Franciscans who kept her cum poto & cochleari, at bed and boord, as Menot speaketh) seeing a No∣uice which came ordinarily to the shambles with a ghostly father, he was wont to say, that he did so wel resemble his wife, that had he not bin perswaded she were dead, he should thinke it was she disguised in strange attire. In the end it was well knowne that the poore butcher had good cause to thinke so: and that this nouice, that is to say, one that wore the habit of a Franciscan nouice, was his wife indeed, whom he thought he had lost. Which vile villany God in his prouidence suffered not to be detected till that the abuses of Popish religiō were discouered, for which as well the Franciscans as the other Monks, together with all the Cannibals of the Crucifix were expelled the citie. Many other examples there are of the like feates which these good vpholders and fauourers of Saint Francis were wont to play. And the foresaid Queene of Nauarre recordeth a pleasant story to this purpose, of two Franciscans, who (because they neuer carry mony about them) would needs haue rauished their ferrywoman, and payd their fare in that payment: howbeit their good will (which they could not put in execution) was for that time reputed for the deed. But sith this good Princesse hath done vs and succeeding poste∣ritie so great a pleasure, as to take the paines to record certaine stories as pregnant proofes of the chastitie of these venerable Friers, and to publish them in print, I wil omit the most notable of all the rest, viz. of a Franciscan in a towne of Perigord, who at the mariage of his hosts daughter, caused meate to be serued into his cham∣ber for himselfe and his fellow Frier, making scruple to sit at table with the rest of the guests; yet made no conscience after supper to go to bed with the bride in humilitie, taking the same paines with her in charitie which he knew the bride∣groome meant to take. Notwithstanding I may not omit a fine feate played by a Franciscan, who maried his companion to an Italian gentlewoman, and so cun∣ningly handled the matter that he had fiue hundred duckats for his paines, which his fellow had receiued for his wiues dowrie: & brought it so about, that he peace∣ably enioyed her, and receiued all kind entertainment at her and her mothers hands (who was a widow) which a new maried man could in reason expect. This iolly Franciscan (being ghostly father to the widow) had brought her to so good a beleefe in his gods, that she verily thought her daughter had met with a better match then possibly she could haue wished. And the better to perswade her (al∣though he needed no great Rhetorick for this purpose, considering the good opi∣nion she had conceiued of him, by reason of the great deuotion she bare to his or∣der) he vsed this speech vnto her, (suting the request which she had made vnto him to find out a fit match for her daughter:) I am fully perswaded (quoth he) that God hath sent his Angell Raphael vnto me (as he did to Tobias) to find out a good husband for your daughter. For (I assure you) I haue met with the honestest

yong gentleman that is this day in Italy, who hath somtimes seene your daughter, & is so far gone in loue, that as I was to day at my prayers, God sent him vnto me, to shew me the great desire he hath that this match may go forward. And there∣fore knowing his house, kinsfolkes, and honest demeanour so well, I promised him I would breake the matter vnto you. See here the preface which this ghostly fa∣ther vsed to this silly widdow. But to set a faire glosse vpon the matter, and to take away all suspicion of double dealing, he further added: True it is, there is one fault which I find in him, & it is but one: The thing is this; going about to rescue one of his friends whom his enemie would haue slaine, he drew his sword thinking to haue parted the fray: but it so fortuned that his friend slue the other, whereupon (though he had striken neuer a stroake) he fled the Countrey because he was pre∣sent at the murther:* 1.20 and by the aduice of his kinsfolkes hath withdrawne himselfe into this city in a schollers attire, where he continues as a stranger vnknowne; & is so to remaine till such time as his friends shall take order for his returne, (which he hopeth they will do very shortly. And therefore the mariage must secretly be so∣lemnized; and you must permit him to frequent publicke Lectures in the day time, and euery night to sup and lodge with you. The silly old widow found great probabilitie in all this tale, (for as the common saying is, It is an easie matter to de∣ceiue where there is no deceit) so that vpon these conditions they were betrothed the same day, and at Masse after midnight were maried, and the mariage being consummate, liued together (for a time) with mutuall loue and liking one of ano∣ther: so that her mother said, she had great cause to thank God. But Dominus vobis∣cum vttered in the Masse by this so honest a young gentleman (who was both a Franciscan & a Masse-priest) began to marre the market. For this new maried mi∣stris going with her mother to heare Masse in the couent of the Franciscans (ac∣cording to the great deuotion which she bare to Saint Francis, as hath bene said) as this gentle Sir Iohn turned himselfe to say Dominus vobiscum, she poore soule was stricken with greater astonishment then euer bel-founder was, telling her mo∣ther that the Priest which said masse was her husband, at least one that much re∣sembled him. Her mother making great scruple once to imagine that such holy men would vse such false dice, and thinking withall that such a thought could not be entertained without a mortall sinne, laboured to draw her daughter from that opinion. But Ite, missa est, strucke it dead. For turning himselfe the second time, he did not onely confirme her in her opinion, but made her mother also of the same mind: who notwithstanding would not fully beleeue it till the euening, that she came and found him in bed with his wife; where (according to the plot which they had laid) she held his hands as though it had bene in sport, whilest her daugh∣ter pulled off his night-cap. Vnder which finding his shauen crowne, they needed not to make any further doubt whether he was a Priest or no, but rather to deuise how they might be reuenged as wel of him as of the ghostly father; whom the old gentlewoman sent for without delay, making as though she had some great secret to impart vnto him. In the end she deliuered them ouer into the Iudges hands, who (doubtlesse) would neuer haue suffered them to haue escaped so scotfree as they did, but that they were corrupt at the core: as the Queene of Nauarre saith in the end of this narration. But I heard afterwards in Italy, that they acquit them vpon small penance. For in times past they made conscience (as we know) to lay hands vpon these holy men; nay they were glad to rid their hands of them, and to turne them ouer to their gardians, to be dismissed in pace, or otherwise dealt with as they should thinke good. And sithence we are speaking of Italy, I wil here insert

the history of that lecher who played the knaue with one Berengers wife, an Italian Marquesse. This houswife (neuer respecting the noble house whence she was des∣cended) played the harlot with one of her Chaplaines (though a very dandiprat, and exceedingly deformed.) But this companion escaped not so scotfree as his fel∣lowes. For being bewrayed by the barking of a dogge, he was taken and stripped starke naked, and had that part cut off wherewith he had offended. Which happe∣ned in the time of Pope Steuen the eight, about the yeare of our Lord 941. But to returne to Franciscans: I haue not forgotten the history of the gray Frier (calling himselfe Saint Francis) who played his part so well with a silly superstitious wo∣man, that she admitted him to her bed: but before he could bring his resolution to execution, the curtaine was drawne, and the play ended otherwise then he ex∣pected, and by those whom he neuer suspected. For Saint Peter (as porter of Para∣radise) and Saint Thomas (as one who would neuer haue beleeued such a matter) came to seeke him euen to his beds side, and sent him packing after another man∣ner then he came thither. I haue not (I say) forgotten this story, but reserue it to his proper place.

2 Now these gallants not content to play the knaues in graine, and to exceed all the ruffians that euer entred the Huleu of Paris in obscenitie of speeches and filthy conuersation, haue bin bold (and that in open pulpits) before the crucifixe and all the men and women Saints there present (keeping demure countenances in looking on and saying nothing) to vse such modest talke as were enough to make all the whores (at least the curtizans of Venice and Rome) to blush for shame. Witnesse a Franciscan of Tours, who preaching vpon Easter tuesday in a village called S. Martin le beau, nigh the citie Bleré in Touraine, and recommending him selfe and his sute vnto them, said, Madames, I am bound to giue you thankes for your liberality to our poore couent. But shall I tell you? you haue not considered of all our necessities. And then he vsed such a villanous speech, that is, so besee∣ming his cloister (according to the old saying, A man is not to looke for grapes of thornes, or figs of thistles) and so vnworthy all chast eares, that I will not staine my paper therewith. And if perhaps I forget my selfe so much in other places as to blot paper with the like, I shall desire the Reader not to take offence thereat, nor to gather thereupon that I take pleasure in the recitall of such hideous and horrible villanies; but to perswade himselfe that the onely desire I haue to decipher out vil∣laines by their villanies, and wicked men by their wickednesse (to the end that the knowledge of them may breed a bitter detestation of such monstrous abominati∣on) hath moued me to imitate the Lacedemonians, who teaching their children so∣brietie and temperance, shewed them their slaues drunken, that seeing their beast∣ly behauiour, they might in their youth grow to a lothing and detestation of their drunkennesse. Notwithstanding if there be any curious head, desirous to know what this rotten speech was, which the Monke vttered, he shall find it (with sun∣dry others) in the narrations of the Queene of Nauarre, whose meaning (in pub∣lishing those Nouuelles) was to let posterity vnderstand the notorious wickednesse of these false Friers, who were reputed not only honest men, but euen pety Saints. Now as the Satyrist saith, Nemo repente fuit turpissimus: so it is certen that their loose licencious life & dissolute demeanour hath dayly increased & growne by degrees. But we haue seene it in the ruffe, especially sithence this rascall rout is come to this passe, to desire (as one writeth) that they might be permitted in their confessions to handle those parts & members of the body, which had bin instruments in com∣mitting the sinne which they confessed. And when a Bishop told one of them (that

had put vp this petition) what an absurd and shamefull thing it would be for men and women to shew their priuities: he answered, that if it were accounted no dis∣honesty for confessors to contemplate at the same instant with the eyes of the mind (which are far more pure and precious then the eyes of the body) not onely the parts & members of the body which had committed filthinesse, but the filthy fact it selfe disclosed and layed open vnto them in holy ••hrift; much lesse ought it to be thought a dishonest or vnseemly thing to behold and view them with their bodily eyes. Further, he alleadged that the confessor resembling the spirituall Phi∣sition, ought to feele his patient as well as the bodily Phisition doth his. And these his Scoggin-like scoffes he burnished with blasphemies, prophanely abusing the words of our blessed Sauiour, Go and shew thy self to the Priest: as though the Iewes had bin accustomed to strip off their clothes, and shew themselues naked to the Priest. But to returne to these iolly Preachers: what modest speeches (think we) vse they in priuat, whē they vse such obscene scurrility in publik? When I say in priuat, I meane not onely their owne cloisters, but the cloisters of their most deare, louing and welbeloued sisters: for their maner was to build them neare together. Where∣upon a merry companion tooke occasion to say, Here is the barne, and there are the threshers. Which puts me in mind of that which a ieaster once said to King Henry the second: for when it was debated which way they might best furnish the King with mony, he propounded two. The first was, that if the King would let him weare his crowne by course, he would furnish him with two millions of gold. The second, that he should giue commaundement that all Monks beds should be sold, and the mony brought vnto him. Whereupon the King asking him where the Monks should lie when their beds were sold? with the Nunnes, quoth he. Where∣upon the King replied; But thou considerest not, that there are nothing so many Nunnes as Monks. To which he had this answer at his fingers ends; It is true, if it please your Highnesse (said he) but euery Nun can wel lodge half a dozen Monks at the least.

3 But how comes it to passe (may some say) that these poore Franciscans are more commonly flouted and played vpon then the other fry of Friers? Verily it is not for want of examples as well of other Monks as of simple sir Iohns; but because they beare the world in hand that they haue ascended a note aboue Ela, and attai∣ned a greater degree of holinesse then the rest of this rable, therfore they are more narrowly looked into then the rest. And when the best of them all (who boast themselues to be most holy) are not worth a rush, it must needs follow that the rest are bad enough. Neuerthelesse, for his satisfaction who might haply make such an obiection, I will alleadge some rare examples of simple Sir Iohns, that is, of such as are not Monks, but single soled Priests. First then we are not to wonder that these gallants (especially Curats and Vicars) should go into euery mans house and take toll of their wiues, seeing all men almost (at least the greatest part) kept open house for them, and put them in trust with their wiues, making account that they had to deale with their soules onely, and not with their bodies. In such sort that a simple sot finding a Sir Iohn at worke with his wife, durst hardly beleeue (for feare of committing a mortall sinne) that he came thither for any bad intent. Which women knowing wel enough, were not to seeke for an excuse when they chanced to be found at vnawares with their good Curate: as we haue formerly alleadged examples of their craft and subtilty in playing false with their husbands, when and as often as they were taken napping in the fact with one or other of their kind ac∣quaintance. But let vs see what subtill sleights Priests and Monkes had in their

budgets, to passe their wicked purposes, when they met with any obstacle or rub in their way. It is reported of two or three good fellowes (one of which was a kind Curate in a burrough-towne situate in the mountaines betweene Daulphiné and Sauoy) who counselled the good wiues of their parish to faine themselues to be possessed, that when their husbands went on pilgrimage for the dispossessing of them, they might commit them to their custody till their returne, that so they might not be niggards of their stoles, nor their other instruments which might do their wiues good. We reade also of sundry others through whose counsell women haue fained themselues sicke of one disease or other, whereunto their sexe is vsu∣ally subiect, that vnder colour of applying to them their relikes, they might apply vnto them some other thing. As a Minorite Frier in Sicily serued the yong wife of an old Phisition, named Agatha. For she hauing in her confession layd open to this Monke some part of her mind, as namely that she bare no great affection to her husband: and hauing giuen sufficient intimation (at least to one of so quicke a conceit, as without casting of her water could soone perceiue where she was pai∣ned) that she longed for change of pasture, was perswaded by him (before he had absolued her) that the next day when her husband was gone to visit his patients, she should faine her selfe sicke of the mother (as indeed she was somewhat subiect vnto it) and that she should call for the helpe of my Lord S. Bernardine: which she did. VVhereupon they intreated this Minorite to bring the miraculous relikes of S. Bernardine, and apply them to this poore patient. The Frier being glad that his plot stood in so good terms, foreslowed not his businesse, but coming straight to her beds side, and finding more witnesses there then he desired, told them that he must begin with holy shrift, which was enough to make them all voyde the roome; so that there only remained his companion and the gentlewomans maid. And then was it time both for mistris and maid to go about other matters then confession. Now as they were hard at worke, the poore Phisition came home (not giuing the pedlar of relikes so much time as to put on his breeches, but onely to leape out of bed) and finding these two confessors so neare his wife, beganne to scratch his head, not daring to speake all that he thought. But it strucke him to the heart (poore soule) when after their departure he found one of the Confessors breeches vnder the beds head, as he was tricking vp his wiues pillow. But as the morall was well handled, so the play was farre better acted. For his wife presently preuenting him said: Sweet husband, because the relique of blessed S. Bernardine hath recouered me, I desired the Confessor to leaue it with me, fearing a relapse. The Frier being aduertised by the maid of the starring hole which her mistris had found, (to the end that the Catastrophe might be answerable to the Prologue) re∣turned to fetch his breeches with ringing and chiming of bels, with crosses and holy water, accompanied with all the fry of their fraternity, and namely with the Priour of the house: and hauing taken them out of a faire linnen cloth (in which the sicke soule had wrapped them) he caused all the standers by to kisse them, and first of all the silly noddy her husband: and hauing layd them vp in a shrine, depar∣ted thence with this precious and wonder-working Iewell. Others (as Poggius) re∣port that the breeches of S. Francis couered the knauery of the breeches which the Minorite Frier had left behind him. To the same purpose Boccace writeth of an Abbatesse in Lombardy, who rising in hast from a Priest (with whom she had layen that night) to take one of her Nuns in bed with her Paramot: in stead of her vailes (which some call the psalter) she for haste put on the Priests breches on her head; which the poore Nunne straight perceiuing, as she was to receiue her bene∣dicite

(for the points of the breeches hung downe on either side,) Madame (said she) first tie your coi••e, and then I will be contented to heare whatsoeuer admo∣nition you shall giue me: with that the Abbatesse perceiued what it was, that she had inconsiderately put vpon her head, and there upon changed the copie of her countenance, and was streight in another key. In this history there is one remarka∣ble point, which I may not omit, wherein all agree which relate the same (al∣though they vary somewhat in other circumstances) viz. how this iolly Minorite vnder pretence of shriuing her, tooke occasion to lie with her. This I say is the ra∣ther to be marked, because it confirmeth the saying of that good old Preacher O∣liuer Maillard, who complaineth that after these gallants haue heard womens con∣fessions, and learned who they be that follow the occupation, they run after them. Qui auditis confessiones mulierum, deinde curritis post eas. Howbeit we haue more auncient and authenticall testimonies hereof. For Poggius a Florentine reporteth that there was an Eremite at Padua called Ansimitius (in the raigne of Francis the seuenth, Duke of that city) who being held to be a holy man, corrupted many wo∣men (those especially which were descended of noble houses,) and all vnder co∣lour of confession. And he addeth a very pleasant ieast, how that when this Ere∣mite was detected, he was brought before the Duke, who hauing examined him, caused his secretary to know of him the names of all the womē which he had abu∣sed. Who after he had reckoned vp a great number, such especially as resorted to the Dukes pallace, he sayd, he had told all. But the Secretarie still vrging him to confesse more, and to conceale neuer a one. The poore Eremite fetching a sor∣rowfull sigh, said, Why then (Sir) write downe your owne wife. At which words the Secretary was so astonished, that the pen fell out of his fingers. The Duke on the other side was almost resolued into laughter. But to omit these examples: daily ex∣perience doth sufficiently shew, that auricular confession serued Priests and Monks in stead of nets to catch women withall. For my part I remember wel, I once heard a Priest at Paris vpbraided for lying with a woman in the Church presently after he had shriuen her. I haue also heard of a Curate neare to Vienne in Dauphiné, who was taken (about twelue yeares since) playing the knaue behind the high Altar on good Friday, with a woman whom he had vnder benedicite, with whom he had often playd the like pranke. For punishment of which offence he was sentenced by the Bishop of the Diocesse not to sing Masse for a certaine time. VVhich puts me in mind of a grieuous punishment which an Italian Bishop inflicted vpon a Priest (about forty yeares ago) for his cruel handling of a poore tradesman, in bea∣ting him most barbarously beyond all meane and measure, viz. that he should not set foot in any Church for the space of three moneths. VVhich sentence the ma∣gistrate of the place perceiuing to be ouerpartially giuen in the behalf of the Priest, so encouraged the poore man vnderhand, and heartned him so on, that he was fully resolued to be reuenged. Neither failed he of his purpose: for meeting with his Sir Iohn in a place where he was not able to make his part good, he beat him well and thriftily, restoring him his blowes with aduantage. For which fact being complained of to the magistrate, he commaunded him that he should not set foot in any tauerne for three moneths after. VVhich sentence of the magistrate when it came to the Bishops eare, he was much offended. Howbeit the magistrate (who knew well what he had done) was not mute nor vnprouided of an answer, but re∣plied in this sort: Say, (I beseech you my Lord) do you not thinke it a greater pu∣nishment for him which is wont neuer to lie out of the Tauerne, to be forbidden to go thither for the space of three moneths, then for a Priest to be debarred

for three moneths from coming to Church, which he makes so litle account of, that he could be content for a smal matter neuer to come there al his life long? This story I was the more willing to record, because it doth so well exemplifie the light penance which the other Bishop enioyned the wicked Priest, who was so impu∣dent to play the fornicating Frier (I say not in the Church, but) hard by the high Altar; not vpon Shroue-tuesday, but vpon good Fryday, golden fryday, holy fri∣day, when all men are weeping full sore and bitterly for the poore god which is kept in prison: wherein so much as to laugh, is accounted a venial sinne: and which is more, in the sight of all the he and she Saints in the Church, who turning their faces aside for shame, could notwithstanding see them as well behind as before: To be short, who committed such a crime, for which he deserued (to speake accor∣ding to their cannons) to die fiue hundred deaths, if it were possible. And not∣withstanding this so light and slight a punishment, the Legate of Auinion thought it so great and so grieuous, that he released him thereof. So that M. Curate played the knaue againe with the same woman, and in the same place more freely then e∣uer before, in spight of all that spake against it; neither did he surcease from singing his ordinary Masses, which were found as sauory and toothsome, yea as easie to be digested by those which greedily feed vpō such froth, as the Masses of the maiden∣liest Priest of them all. Now who so lift to make diligent inquiry into all the kna∣ueries committed by these Church-men, shall find them almost infinite. But their punishments so exceeding rare, and (for the most part) so slight and slender, that it was, in a maner, nothing but meere mockery. Whereof to omit other testimonies, we haue a notable president in the Franciscans of Orleans, after that horrible and execrable imposture of theirs, which was since notoriously known to al the world.

4 But leauing this discourse, let vs returne to the whoredomes of these bon companions: and to the end it may appeare that they thought scorne to be inferior to their Prelates in that occupation, let vs heare an incest in the highest degree, cōmitted by a Priest, as it is authentically recorded in the late Queene of Nauarres narrations, yet more briefly then it is there set downe. In a village neare Coignac, called Cherues, a maid (that is, one that was a maid by her owne assertion and in common opinion) sister to the Curate of the parish, was found to be with child. And because she led a very holy life (in outward appearance) she made the com∣mon people easily beleeue that she was great with child by the holy Ghost, and that she was another virgin Mary. This rumor blazed abroad, came to the eares of Charles Earle of Angoulesme (father to King Francis the first) who sent certaine of his seruants thither to make diligent inquiry thereof, because he doubted all went not well, but that there was some false packing amongst them. In whose presence the wench (being about 13. yeares of age) hauing bin before adiured by the Cu∣rate (her brother) vpon her saluation to reueale the truth, and then the second time sworne, answered, I take the body of our Lord here present vpon my saluation, before you my masters, and you my brother, that neuer man touched me more then you. And ha∣uing so said, she receiued the consecrated host. They hearing her take this solemne oath, returned back againe and informed the Earle how the case stood: who hea∣ring their report, thought vpon that which they neuer dreamed of, viz. that it was not without cause that she vsed that forme and manner of oath, that neuer man touched her more then her brother, and tooke it for certaine that it would be found that her brother had gotten her with child. Whereupon he sent them back again, commaunding them to imprison the Curate: which they had no sooner done, but he confessed the fact. So that both of them were burned certaine dayes after

she was deliuered. VVe reade also of one Thomas Abbot of Abingdon, who (not contented to keepe three paramours) had two children by his owne sister.

5 But to ease my self of further labor, in collecting out of sundry authors that which might serue my purpose: I will for this present content my self with a short treatise in French (wherein this story is set downe) taken out of an English booke, containing an inuentory (or catalogue) of the villanies discouered in the visitatiō of Monasteries, Couents, Collegiate Churches, and other religious houses in En∣gland, by the cōmandement of king Henry the eight: where (to let passe their other knaueries) the whoredoms, adulteries, incests and sodomies of Priests and Monks of those houses are set forth, with their names and sirnames, as it here followeth. In the Monastery of Belle or Battel in the Dioces of Chichester, these Sodomites were found at the first visitation, Iohn Abbot, Richard Salchurst, Thomas Cuthbert, William March, Iohn Hasting, Gregory Champion, Clement Westfield, Iohn Crosse, Thomas Crambrooke, Thomas Bayll, Iohn Hamfield, Iohn Iherom, Clement Grigge, Richard To∣uey, and Iohn Austine. Other Sodomites in the Church of Canterbury among the Monkes of Saint Benet are these, Richard Godmershan, William Litchfield, Christo∣pher Iames, Iohn Goldingston, Nicholas Clement, William Cawston, Iohn Ambrose, Tho∣mas Farleg, and Thomas Morton. Other Sodomites in the Cathedrall Church of Chichester, Iohn Champion and Roger Barham. Item, in the Monastery of Saint Au∣gustine, Thomas Barham sodomite. The catalogue of whoremasters and adulterers is too long, and therefore I will speake onely of their stoutest champions, that is, of those who kept many whores: some of which, like towne-buls, not contenting themselues with a round halfe dozen, had nine, others eleuen, (in remembrance of the eleuen thousand virgins) others thirteene, and some twenty. But because I will not depriue them of the honour giuen to their fellowes, these are their names. In the Church of Canterbury among the Monkes of S. Benet, Christopher Iamys played the whoremonger onely with three maried women, William Abbot of Bristow had but foure whores, whereof one was maried. In Windsor Castle Nicholas Whyden priest, had but foure. In the same place George Whitethorne had fiue, Nicholas Spoter fiue, Robert Hunne fiue, Robert Danyson sixe, Richard Priour of Maydenbeadley fiue. In the Monastery of Shulbred in the Diocesse of Chichester, George Walden Priour had seuen, Iohn Standney seuen, Nicholas Duke fiue. In the Monastery of Bathe, Richard Lincombe had seuen, whereof three were maried: he was a Sodomite besides. In the Cathedrall Church of Chichester, Iohn Hill had but thirteene. This is much (may some say:) but what is it to Iohn White Priour of Bermondsey, who had twenty? It is commonly thought that there were aboue 400. Couents of sundry sorts of Monkes and Nunnes in England (besides those that belonged to the begging Friers, which were nigh two hundred.) Now let the Reader calculate, how many bastards there were then in England, I meane Monks bastards begottē of strumpets? And if there had bin a visitation of Religious hou∣ses throughout France, Italy and Spaine at the same time, let the Reader iudge what sweet doings would haue bin found. At the same time I say, because their dealing in the darke was not then so plainly discouered and layd open, as it hath bin of late time: and therefore they had farre better meanes to defray such charges, and to bleare the eyes of the world, then euer they had since. Hitherto I haue said no∣thing of Germany: for albeit it be of greater extent then any of the former, yet it is thought to haue bin more barren of such bastard slips (I meane these Friers brats) and lesse pestered with such vermine. Howbeit we need not doubt but that they also haue followed the game as well as their fellowes. At least this we reade in the

arraignement of the Iacobins of Berne, that they were found feasting and making merry in the Couent among fine dames, not in the habit of Monks, but of gentle∣men.

6 Further, there go sundry other reports of Franciscans and Iacobins, who haue bin taken leading their strumpets about with them attired like nouices. And verily it was a politick course of theirs, to permit their displing Friers to leade noui∣ces about in this sort: for vnder that pretext they had alwayes a Ganimede or a whore by their side. Howbeit I perswade my selfe that since a Franciscans nouice was deliuered of a child in a ferry boate, as they crossed ouer the riuer Garumna, (a fact almost as strange as the deliuery of Pope Ioane) they haue bin a litle more wary in obseruing the old rule, Si non castè, tamen cautè, If not chastly, yet charily.

7 Now it is not of late yeares onely (in this age, or in that wherein Menot li∣ued) that these stoned Priests haue manifested by their practises, how the poore people were abused, in beleeuing that there was as great difference between them and Seculars in regard of fleshly concupiscence, as betweene cocks and capons. For in a booke written against the Carmelites, about the yeare 1270. (called The firy dart) this (to omit other particulars) was layd to their charge. The principall cause of all your gadding to and fro, in towne and country, is not to visit the fatherlesse, but damsels; not widowes which are in griefe and anguish of spirit, but yong wan∣ton wenches and Beguines, Nunnes, and naughty packs. He that thus reproued and admonished them, being the generall of their order, who since that time resig∣ned vp his place, and forsooke his cowle also, as some affirme. Guil. de sancto Amore, who liued about the yeare 1256. saith no lesse; The begging Friers (saith he) leade Beguines about the country with them, which way soeuer they go: groūding their practise vpon the place of S. Paul, Haue we not power to leade about a sister, a wife. See here (gentle Reader) what these silly soules said in those dayes. But what would they haue said (may we thinke) if they had heard of such a fry of fornicating Fry∣ers, as hath bin mentioned? Moreouer, to the end they might more finely flout both God and men, they haue made no bones, (that I may adde one thing more touching their Beguines whom they caried about with them) to forge and frame a religion, according to which their Monks and Nuns (after they had made some proofe of their continency) lay wallowing together like swine in the filth of their fornication: in the meane time bearing the world in hand, that though they com∣panied together in this sort, yet that they were no more tempted with carnall con∣cupiscence then two logs of wood lying one by the other.

8 And thus much of the pranks playd by these Frier-dockers. Now in win∣ding vp of this Chapter I will resolue this one question, Why Monks and Fryers are called Beaux-peres, Ghostly fathers. One considering their doings in the darke, and insisting vpon the word peres, that is, fathers, made these verses in imitation of a Latin Distich:

Or ça Iacobins, Cordeliers, Augustins, Carmes, bordeliers, D'où vient qu'on vous nomme Beaux-peres? C'est qu'à l'ombre du Crucifix, Souuent faisons filles ou filz, En accointant des belles meres.

That is,

Ye Iacobins, Carmelites, Cordeliers, Augustines, and all ye fornicating Friers,

How came ye by the ghostly fathers names? For vnder the Crucifixe and high Aulters, We wont to get vs sonnes and daughters, In kind acquaintance with our ghostly dames.

But to leaue ieasting (for the author of this Hexastich was merrily disposed, albeit he slaundered them (as we know) but with a matter of truth:) I am of opinion that Beaux-peres is all one as if a man should say Beaux-vieillards, Faire old men; which I do the rather thinke, because 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 or 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 (a word of the vulgar Greek) seemeth to be corrupted of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that is faire, and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that is an old man, which Epithete argues that they haue alwayes liued at their ease. For we call him a faire old man, who maugre his gray beard, is yet fresh and flourishing, the faire li∣neaments of whose face are not wrinkled with labour & care. And verily Monks, especially mendicants (those at Venice aboue the rest) are the fairest old men in all Italy: though there they be onely called peres, fathers, and not Beaux-peres. And it would (no doubt) be as goodly a sight to see Monks in France, if they would let their beards grow as Italians do. Howbeit that which hath bin spoken, is not that any man should enuy them.

CHAP. XXII. Of the gluttony and drunkennesse of the Popish Cleargie.

IT is an old saying, Apres la panse, vient la danse, that is, After feasting followes dancing: and therfore it had bin more conuenient (as it may seeme) first to haue spoken of gourmandizing and drunkennesse (as ringleaders to all wantonnes) according to my former discourse grounded vpon sundry ancient prouerbs. Howbeit I haue first spo∣ken of lechery, relying vpon the authority of Iuuenal, who saith that whoredome is of all other vices the most ancient, though it be spoken more merrily then truly. First then to speake of the qualitie of meates before the quantitie, (that is, of lic∣korishnesse before gluttony) we need to go no further then to Theologicall wine and chapter bread. For when we would expresse in one word, the choisest wine were euen for a King, we must haue recourse to Theologicall wine. Likewise if the question be touching the finest and daintiest bread, like vnto that which was in the citie of Eresus, for which Mercury thought his paines well bestowed to come downe from heauen to make prouision for the gods (if we may beleeue the Poet Archestratus;) when all is done we must come to Chapter bread, I meane the right chapter bread, whence that which bakers sell at Par••s hath borrowed the name but not the goodnesse, saue in some small measure. Wel then, this is a good beginning; for the feast cannot be bad where there is good bread and good wine. Concer∣ning meates, certen it is, that when we say, Such a one fares like a Commissioner for flesh and fish, we ought rather to say, He fares like a Churchman. For, for whom are great Pikes bought at six French crownes a peece, but for the daintie mouth of our holy mother the Church? For whom (thinke we) did rippiers first trot vp and downe the country, but for our holy mother? Howbeit, they do not (I must needs confesse) eate fish and flesh both at one meale, (for Phisitions counsell them the contrary) but they commonly sit so long at meate, till they be so crammed with flesh, that they are ready to burst; much like to Dutch-men, who when they keepe

their grand gaudeamus, make conscience to drink a drop of wine, till they be drunk with beere. Neuerthelesse there are many now adayes who keepe their stomackes for fish till Lent. Howsoeuer, it is not without cause that we vsually say Theological wine and Abbots cheare, as we may perceiue by the description not of a dinner or supper, but onely of a breakfast; and that not of an Abbot, but of a Priour, in these verses:

Vn gros Prieur son petit fils baisoit, Et mignardoit au matin en sa couche: Tandis rostir sa perdris on faisoit. Se leue, crache, esme••tit, & se mouche. La perdris vire: au sel de broque en bouche La deuora: bien sauoit la science. Puis quand il eut pris sur sa conscience Broc de vin blanc, du meilleur qu'on eslise, Mon Dieu (dit il) donne moy patience: Qu'on a de maux pour seruir saincte Eglise?

That is,

A ••oggie Priour kist his pretty son, And early danc't him in his downey bed. Meanewhile his cooke makes due prouision, Of a plumpe Partridge for the purpose fed. He riseth, spits, and sneezeth, blowes his nose: The smoking Partridge downe his gullet goes, Hot from the spit. Then can he lay on his large conscience, Quarts of best wine that euer grape did make. O God (says he) but grant me patience, What toile we taken for the Churches sake?

What shall we say then to the dinners and suppers of those Prelates that haue a do∣zen crosier sta••es and as many myters attending on them, if a paltry Priour haue a Partridge to his breakfast? But marke how pitifully he complaineth of the hard seruice he endureth vnder his holy mother the Church? True it is, that another of the same coate made the like complaint, because they would needs haue him eate partridges, woodcocks, and feasants without orenges. But you are to know (Sir) that this was a mytered Bishop, whereas the other was but a poore Priour. But to returne to our prouerbs, Theologicall wine and Abbots cheere or prelats fare. Doubt∣lesse, without them we should neuer haue vnderstood this excellent place in Horace.

Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus: nunc saliaribus Ornare puluinar deorum Tempus erat dapibus, sodales.

Nor yet this in the same Poet:

Absumet haeres Caecuba dignior, Seruata centum clauibus: & mero Tinget pauimentum superbo Pontificum potiore coenis.

And that we stand in need of these prouerbes to giue vs the true meaning of these verses, heare what the Glosse saith vpon the latter place word for word, Mero di∣cit

potiore (id est, meliore) coenis Pontificum, id est, quàm quo Pontifices in coenis suis quae semper sumptuosissim•• fu••rant (vnde nunc Theologicum dicunt vinum) vsi sunt. Thus we see how greatly commentors vpon Poets are beholding to Diuines and Pre∣lates. As for Theologicall wine, I am not ignorant that it is greatly controuerted whether it should be called Vinum Theologale, or vinum Theologalis, per appositionē: for the common report is, that when they haue drunke deepe, they agree no better then cats and dogs. But I will leaue the deciding hereof to the iudiciall Reader: for I am not very certen whether it be true that they go to fists when they are well tip∣led, or not. Notwithstanding I remember that when the Sorbonists kept their con∣uenticle on a time with the Bernardines, and that before they had drunke (at least∣wise as they protested, and indeed it was very early in the morning) after they had willed me, my Atturney and Proctor to auoid the roome, for that they were to consult what answer to make to a letter which my deceased father had obtained of King Henry (wherein he had enioyned them something which did not please them very wel): we saw them almost ready to go together by the eares, being wea∣ried and hoarse againe with chiding and chafing. Which fact of theirs I durst not haue bin so bold as to haue related▪ had I not had two sufficient witnesses thereof, much more offended therewith then my selfe, who before their comming had som•• inckling of their ciuilitie. And verily if they had plucked one another by the beard, it should not haue bin the first time; for they had done no more then the Bishop of Caua & the Bishop of Greguetto did once in a Councel. Moreouer, these two prouerbs call another to mind, viz. the face of an Abbot, which being an aunci∣ent by-word, perswadeth me that Abbots in old time had firy faces. Touching the Cardinall of the bottels (or flagons) he may well thinke that I did him great wrong if I should here forget him▪ howbeit I will not make a custome of it, be∣cause it would make me remember the iniury and disgrace which the Italians commonly offer vs, in calling vs tosse-pots. Now if these iolly Prelates shall say, that when they make good cheare, their table talke is nothing but good and honest; Oliuer Maillard will tel them they lie in their throates, and that they talke of no∣thing but of whoredome and lechery: for these are his words, Vadatis ad mensam Praelatorum vel Dominorum magnatum, semper loquuntur de luxuria, vel aliquibus detrahunt, & ille qui viliùs loquitun, dicitur melior.

2 But here we are to answer an obiectiō which might haply be made against that which hath bin said: for some may say that it is not vnlike but that Chānons, Priours, Abbots, and other the Popes grosse gorbellies should make good cheare; and that they might well be accounted stark fooles if they did not thus pleasantly passe away the time, seeing that all the trauail they take, and suite which they make for the obtaining of benefices and Ecclesiasticall promotions, is for no other end. As we reade of one who before he was Pope, was the most crouching submisse Cardinall that euer was lodged in an ouen: for his manner was to eate vpon a net, as it were in way of deuout humility; but after he had obtained the Popedome he commaunded them to take away the net, saying, he had caught that which he fished for. But as for such a lurry and rable of poore farthing Friers, who haue nei∣ther rent nor reuenue, nor a foote of land to liue vpon, who are therefore called pedlars of relikes, because they liue onely vpon the almes of well disposed persons and granmercies: and those who are called Mendicants, that is, begging Fryers, what probability is there they should haue wherewith to make good cheare? The obiection (me thinks) is easily answered, if we call to mind the common saying, There is no life to the beggars when they haue layd all their cantels together. But how∣soeuer

the mystery of that secret stād, it is not without cause that we say, he is a frier, as who should say, he is a good fellow and a bon companion, who mindeth nothing but merrily to passe away the time. Neither is it without cause that we say, He is as fat as a Monke, of which I haue already spoken. Howb••it, we vse (I confesse) this word AS in our prouerbs, as when we say, As fat as a hog, or As fat as a pig. And that there is indeed some correspondence, analogie or hidden sympathy between swine and Friers, (taking Friers in puris naturalibus) their good S. Anthony hath well declared, who being a swineheard in his life time, would needs at his death take vpon him the charge of a heard of Friers: (though they who runne vp and downe the country, crying, Haue you any thing to bestow vpon my Lord S. An∣thonies swine, make him a very swineheard indeed: and as his Legend saith he was in his dayes an Archimandrite or gouernor of Monks:) witnesse the Epigramme ensuing:

Diceris Antoni porcos pauisse subulcus, Viuus: adhuc Monachos lumine cassus alis. Par stupor ingenij est, ventris{que} abdomen vtris{que}: Sorde pari gaudent, ingluuie{que} pari. Nec minùs hoc brutum genus est, mutúmve suillo, Nec minùs insipidum, nec minus illepidum. Caetera conueniunt, sed non leuis error in vno est, Debucrat Monachis glans cibus esse tuis.

Which one hath thus turned,

Once fedst thou, Anthony, an heard of swine, And now an heard of Monkes thou feedest still; For wit, and gut, alike both charges bin: Both louen filth alike: both like to fill Their greedy paunch alike. Nor was that kind More beastly, sottish, swinish, then this last. All else agrees: one fault I onely find, Thou feedest not thy Monkes with oken mast.

Another Scot also made a Latin Epigram, wherein he makes some doubt whether the swineheard and gardian of Friers be the same S. Anthony or not: but in the end he resolues the case thus:

Credibile est Circen mutasse potentibus herbis, In Monachos{que} sues, in{que} sues Monachos.

That is,

T'is like that Circe by her spels deuine, Hath turned swine to Monkes, and Monkes to swine.

But to search no further for moe testimonies, let vs content our selues with one of their owne, comprised in these goodly verses,

Sanctus Dominicus sit nobis semper amicus, Cui canimus nostro iugiter praeconia rostro, De cordis venis, siccatis antè lagenis. Ergo tuas laudes si tu nos pangere gaudes, Tempore paschali, fac ne potu puteali Conueniat vti: quod si fit, vndique muti Semper erunt fratres qui non curant nisi ventres.

See here (gentle Reader) the testimonies which themselues giue of their Sarda∣naple-like sobrietie. For doubtlesse it cannot be but that these verses were made

either by a Frier speaking in sober sadnesse without hypocrisie, or by one into whose body some Friers soule entred, causing him to speake so Frier like. At least∣wise this testimonie agreeth with it excellent well:

O Monachi, vestri stomachi sunt amphora Bacchi: Vos estis (Deus est testis) teterrima pest••s.

3 As for those silly soules the singlesoled priests which professe not so austere and strict a life, being onely Masse-mongers by their occupation, they haue great reason (questionlesse) to drinke of none but of the best. And therfore I hold a cer∣taine Sir Iohn (a gentlemans chaplaine) excused, who ••••siring the Butler to giue him of the best wine, but being serued with the worst, tooke this cast of his office so to heart (thinking it so great a disparagement and so hainous an indignitie) that when he perceiued him on a time at Masse, he grew into such a mad mood that he lost his voice, he gentleman on the other side being in great hast, and de∣siring only a hunting the Masse (because his horses stood readie for him at the Church gate) fell into a pelting chafe by reason of so long a pause, seeing Sir Iohn pro∣tracted that which he desired might haue bin abridged. But in the end he was glad to send his page to aske him what flie had so sodainly stung him. Sir Iohn answe∣red that there was one in the company that was excommunicate, which hindred his proceeding: and hauing told the lacky (sent vnto him the second time to know the party) that it was his butler, he gentleman was easily perswaded to send him away: which done, he went on roundly with the Masse. Whereupon the poore Butler had his absolution, yet vpon condition that he should not faile to giue Sir Iohn of the same wine that his master and mistris dranke of. Now the reasons for which I say they will be sure to drinke of none but of the best, are these. First, be∣cause it preuents crudities, which might make them slauer or sniuell whilest they are deepe in their deuotion. Secondly, for that deuotion is more ardent in a hot stomacke then in a cold. Thirdly, because they are about to sing: for this they take from the Poets (called in Greek 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which properly signifieth chanters or singers) and therein they follow their opinion, which hath bin such in all ages, that a man cannot sing worth a button, except he haue first drunk deepe and that of the best. But some may haply say, that by this meanes they are in danger to be drunk. And what though they drink till they be drunk, so they do it for a good intent? For if it be no hurt to say, hoc est nasum meum, in stead of hoc est corpus meum, so it be done cum intentione consecrandi: And if it be no hurt to cast a child into a well, so it be done cum intentione baptizandi, as some Glosses affirme; what great matter is it if they drink themselues drunke cum intentione missificandi? And therefore they had reason to beare with a poore Curate neare to Fere in Tartenois, who intending pleasantly to sing his Masse, and to sacrifice his breaden god the next morning, had so merrily sacrificed to God Bacchus the euening before, that whereas he should haue baptized a child, he administred extreame vnction. In like manner he is to be excused, who hauing taken his preparatiues ouer euening, when all men cry (as the manner is) The King drinketh; chanting his Masse the next morning, fell asleepe in his memento: and when he awoke, added with a loud voice, The King drinketh. Howbeit the Priest of S. Mary in Paris, who falling asleepe in his memento, had his challice and plattin stolne by one which holpe him to say Mass••; and awaking ranne into the street, crying a theefe, a theefe, was laughed at as a fond foole, not without cause: for he should first haue agreed with him, whose helpe he desired in mumbling ouer his Masse. But it is to be noted, that he fell asleepe (as the rest did) through the great deuoire he had to prepare himselfe to sing well.

4 And sith I haue proceeded thus farre in speaking of the iolly gaudeamus of these Church-men: I will adde one word more in the behalfe of these poore fiue-farthing sacrificing Massemonging priests, not for any great good will I beare them, but for pity and compassion which I take vpon them, viz. that if they knew how to plead their owne cause, they might shew that they haue great wrong done them, in that they are cut so short of their allowance, and haue such small pittances, in comparison of Priours, Abbots, and the rest of that rabble. For if the sacrifice which they dayly offer, be like vnto that which the Priests (called Salij) instituted by Numa Pompilius celebrated, (as the author of the booke intituled A briefe col∣lection of sacred signes, sacrifices and sacraments, both learnedly & soundly proueth) what reason is there that they who performe the office of the Salij, should not haue Saliares dapes, but should leaue them to those which performe the dutie but once in the yeare? But I will leaue them to pleade their owne cause.

CHAP. XXIII. Of thefts and robber is committed by the Popish Cleargie.

IF I should diue deepe into this argument▪ I should but plunge my selfe into a bottomlesse gulfe. For if it haue bin an old and auncient saying, The Church spoileth both quicke and dead: and if the deuices of pilling and polling haue euer since increased, what store (may we thinke) must there needs be at this day? Now concerning great and notorious theeues, who are so farre from hiding their heads, that they glory and take a pride in robbing and spoiling, and exposing their robberies to the view of the world, my purpose is not to intreat at this present, but onely of Priests and Monks, who being as poore as Irus, notwithstanding fare like Lucullus. For if the Aegyptians and Solon also since their time (as Herodotus telleth vs) hauing enacted a law, that euery man should shew what trade he followed, and what meanes he had to liue, should alleadge no other reason but this, that he which spent freely, hauing neither rents nor reuenues, nor any meanes to earne a penny, nor any to maintaine him, must of necessity be a theefe; what would our Mendicants (trow we) say, if they should be thus examined? For if they haue not a foote of land, as they professe they haue not, (for otherwise they should do ill to beg) and if they know not how to get their liuing; whereon then do they liue? nay, not onely liue, but fare so like Epicures? If they shall answer, that they liue vpon the almes of well disposed people; that is cleane cōtrary to the cōplaint which they cōmonly make, that mens charity towards them is not only cooled, but euen as cold as ice. If they shall say, that they liue vpon borrowing, who wil beleeue them? For all men know, that to lend to those who haue nothing to pay, is all one with giuing, according to the common saying, Where there is nothing to be had, the King loseth his right. Herein therfore I appeale to their owne consciences, what meanes they haue had now of late time (since they began to complaine of the want of charitie) to make their kitchins hot. But because I should stay too long, if I should heare their con∣fession in that particular, I will vndertake the matter, and answer for them my self, or rather rehearse some of their subtill deuices, which shall serue in stead of an an∣swer. Who knoweth not then, that they haue holden the world in such seruitude,

as that they haue violently taken not onely from the rich, but also from the poore, either all or the greatest part of that which their children should haue inherited? Or who can be ignorant that the reason of the tragedy acted by the spirit of Orleans, was, for that these rauens saw they had lost the prey which they thought they had seazed vpon? And doubtlesse it was a grea•• good hap the matter should be so well handled, that it could be got out of their clouches. For when they came to shriue silly soules that lay at the point of death, their manner was to put them in no other hope of being saued, but by making S. Francis, S. Dominick, or some other Saint (patron of the Order that the Confessor was of) their heires. Nay, they were so cunning in bewitching the consciences of those whom they had vnder benedicite, that they did not onely make them giue the moitie or two thirds of their goods, which their wiues and children should haue enioyed; but (in case their children would not become Friers of the order of S. Francis, S. Dominick, or some such sweet Saint) these iolly Saints knew what they would haue. So that if children af∣ter the decease of their parents, refused to become Monkes, those holy Saints would take vpon them to be their heires, defeating them of all. Witnesse mens wils and testaments which are to be seene at this day. But this is a far fouler matter, in that they made such hast many times, that they wold not tarry for them whom they held thus insnared, vntil they were neare their end, but by subtil meanes made them vndresse themselues before they went to bed.

2 For what greater or more cruell theft and robbery, nay what more cruell rapine and rauening can be imagined, then that which they call the Croysado? Did euer theeues, which set their daggers to the throates of passengers to make them deliuer their purses, vse such robbery as the supposts of the Croysado? For doubt∣lesse poore men who haue neuer a crosse in the world to blesse themselues withall, are in no danger of theeues, according to that of the Poet, Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator: whereas a poore man, who is made to beleeue that if he giue such or such a summe of mony, himselfe, his father, mother and children shall be saued; and in case he giue nothing, all shall be damned, is in farre worse case then if he fel among theeues? For if he haue no mony to giue, rather then faile he will pawne himselfe to the Sarracens. And most certaine it is, that many poore people haue not onely pawned, but euen sold their soules outright to the diuell, in getting mony by vnlawfull meanes, whereas they were in good hope by this meanes to deliuer themselues out of his pawes. And as true likewise is it, that they haue long since proclaimed to the world, that they had power and authoritie to sell euen heauen it selfe: (witnesse the Latin verses in S. Steuens Church in Bourges, written vpon a pillar in tables of stone, beginning thus, Hîc des deuotè: coelestibus associo te.) How∣beit they inforced none to giue mony for it, as they did in the time of the Croysa∣do. For confirmation and authorizing whereof, these pelting Preachers alleadged many tickling texts to this purpose, not taken out of the Bible, but out of certaine hypocriticall Friers: interlacing therewith such fond fooleries, that it is almost im∣possible posterity shold beleeue thē. One amongst the rest is reported of a ghostly father, who preaching at Burdeaux, auouched that when any mony was giuen for the dead, their soules in purgatory hearing the sound of the mony falling into the bason or box, crying, ting, ting, began to laugh out heartily, and say, ha, ha, ha; hi, hi, hi.

3 Besides, they haue many subtill conueyances equipollent to robberies, yea some worse then robberies: albeit they cease not to commit other qualified thefts. For instance wherof, one at Casal (about ten yeares ago) finding a purse with three

hundred French crowns in it, reuealed it in his confession to a Frier; who told him that in conscience he ought not to keepe it, but giue it to a third person, till such time as the owner should enquire after it. But the false Frier handled the matter so cunningly, that in the end himselfe was the third man. Not long after came the owner of the purse, repairing to him that found it; who sent him to the Frier who had the keeping of it. But he who had before desired onely to be the keeper, would now needs be the owner, and so was, (for all that the deceased Monsieur Brissac could do, being then the Kings Lieutenant of Piemont) seeing there was none to depose or witnesse against him, but he that gaue it him. And what should we call that tricke of conueyance which a Frier-docker (one of those which asked if they had any thing to giue to Saint Anthonies pigs▪) played with a butchers wife of Calabria, when for two acornes which he gaue to two of her swine, he caried away a whole peece of linnen cloth? But I will reserue this nar∣ration to another place, where I intend to speake of counterfeit miracles; conten∣ting my selfe for this present with one other theft, yet such a one as cannot ea∣sily be sampled: so that if we were to compare Ecclesiasticall theeues (if I may so speake) with secular, the Ecclesiasticall for this alone would beare away the bell. For though in old time there was great talke of such as went to robbe dead mens tombes (called in Greeke 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as a man would say, tombe-diggers,) yet of late time they (at leastwise the seculars) haue bin content to rob the liuing onely. But the Monkes of the Abbey of Bourgmoyen at Bloys haue giuen euident proofe, that they would not yeeld an inch to their auncestors herein, when they digged vp a womans corps interred in their church, to rob the coffin of the lead wherein it was wrapped. Lo here how these false Friers verifie the common saying, The Church taketh both of quicke and dead, not onely in the hid and mysticall, but in the literall sense also.

4 As for great Ecclesiasticall theeues, that is a case by it selfe, which toucheth their head principally, in such sort, that any scabby Monke or fiuefarthing Frier reproued by him for such a legerdemaine, may answer him as the pirate answered Alexander the great: for the theft which their holy father (as they call him) com∣mitteth vnder the colour of Constantines donation, as fare exceedeth the petty lar∣recine and pilfering practised by his imps, as Alexanders robberies the pirats or Sea-rouers. And therfore there is no reason why such as are chiefe in place next to this Arch-theefe, should busie themselues about pety thefts not beseeming their greatnesse. And hereof (doubtlesse) they haue great consideration (as experience sheweth): for the least which they commit, is the spoiling of Churches of their re∣likes; I meane not dead mens bones, but gold and siluer. For there was a pamphlet lately published (intituled Harengua) wherein is declared how certaine Iacobins summoned a great Cardinall to restore vnto them their crowne of gold.

5 But in speaking before of the Croysado, I forgot a Franciscan of Millaine, called Sampson, who by that meanes had scraped together an hundred and twenty thousand duckats, which he offered for the Popedome.

CHAP. XXIIII. Of man-slaughters and murthers committed by the Popish Cleargie.

I Will begin this Chapter with the story which I promised to relate when I spake of the Franciscan, whose inordinate lust cost three persons their liues, one man and two women. For then I promised to relate a farre more horrible fact committed by a Frier of the same order, who to compasse his mischieuous purpose (which was to haue his pleasure of a gentlewoman of the house) committed foure murthers with his owne hands. The story is this: In the raigne of the Emperour Maximilian the first, there was within his dominions in Flanders a very famous Couent of Franciscans, neare to which dwelt a gentleman who exceedingly affected the Monks of the Couent, and was very beneficiall vnto them, hoping by that meanes to be made partaker of their good works, fasts, and prayers. Among the rest there was a tall proper Franciscan, whom the gentleman had made choise of to be his Confessor, and had giuen him full power and authoritie ouer all his houshold: whose mind was so inflamed with the beames of his wiues beauty, that he was al∣most beside himselfe. And purposing on a time to come to the period of his in∣tended purpose, he went all alone to the gentlemans house, and finding him not at home, asked the gentlewoman whither he was gone? She answered, that he was gone to see certaine lands of his, and meant to stay abroad two or three dayes; ad∣ding withall, that if he had any businesse with him, she would dispatch a messen∣ger after him. He answered that it should not need, and began to walke vp and downe the house as one that had some waighty matter in hand: which the gentle∣woman noted, and perceiuing by his countenance that he was mal content, she sent one of her maids vnto him to know if he wanted any thing. The ghostly fa∣ther (who was walking vp and downe the court) answered that he did, and there∣upon leading her into a corner, took a dagger out of his sleeue & thrust it into her throate. In the meane time one of the gentlemans tenants came on horsebacke into the court, bringing with him the rent of his farme: and he was no sooner lighted, but he saluted the Franciscan; who embracing him in his armes, stabbed him behind with his dagger, as he had done the maid, and hauing so done locked vp the castle gate. The gentlewoman wondering that her maid staied so long sent another to know the reason why she made no greater hast: who was no sooner gone downe into the court, but the Frier tooke her aside into an odde corner, and serued her as he had done the former. Then perceiuing that there was none left in the house but the gentlewoman and himselfe▪ he went vnto her and told her that he had bin long in loue with her▪ and that the time was come that she must needs yeeld vnto him. She (who neuer mistrusted any such thing) answered in this sort▪ Father, I perswade my selfe, that if I were so leudly disposed▪ you would throw the first stone at me▪ To whom the Frier replied▪ Come downe into the court, and you shall see what I haue done. Now when she saw her maids and her tenant ly∣ing slaine before her eyes, she was so aghast, and striken with such astonishment, as if Perseus with his Gorgons head had transformed her into a stone, and was not able

to speake a word. But forthwith this wicked wretch (who meant to haue his plea∣sure of her more then once, and therefore would not force her) said, Mistris be not afraid, for you are in his hands who of all men in the world loueth you best. At which words he put off his long habit, vnder which he had a shorter, which he of∣fered her, and withall told her that if she refused it, he would send her packing to Pluto with those whom she saw lying before her eyes. The gentlewoman more like a dead then a liuing creature, determined to make as though she would obey him, both hoping to saue her life, and to protract the time, in hope her husband would come home: and so at the Friers command she vndressed her head, making as litle hast as she could. But in the end hauing her haire hanging loose about her eares, the Frier (not respecting how goodly and faire it was) hastily cut it off, and hauing so done, caused her to strip her selfe vnto her smocke, and arrayed her with the short habit which he had about him, and after put on his other againe; and so departed thence with all speed possible, carying with him his yong nouice whom he had so long desired. But by Gods prouidence the gentleman her husband ha∣uing dispatched his businesse sooner then he thought, returned homewards the same way the Franciscan went with his wife. Now when the Frier perceiued him a far off, he said to the gentlewoman, See, yonder comes your husband, and I know that if you looke vpon him he will rescue you out of my hands; wherefore go on before me, and see that you turne not your face towards him; for if you giue him but the least signe, I will cut your throate before euer he can helpe you. At these words the gentleman drew neare, and asked him from whence he came? Sir (quoth he) from your house, where I left my mistris your wife in good health, ex∣pecting your coming. The gentleman went on, not perceiuing his wife. Howbeit his man (who was wont to entertain the Friers fellow called Frier Iohn) began to call to her, thinking it had bin Frier Iohn. The poore gentlewoman (who durst not once turne her head aside towards her husband) answered not a word: wherupon he crossed the way to looke her in the face; where she speaking not a word, gaue him a twinch with a weeping eye. He then returning backe to his master, said, Sir, as I crossed the way I marked the Friers fellow, who (questionlesse) is not Frier Iohn, but much resembles my mistris your wife, who looked very rufully vpon me. Tush (quoth the gentleman) thou talkest like a foole: and made no more of it. But his seruant persisting in his opinion, intreated him to giue him leaue to go after them, and to stay a litle to see whether he mistooke himselfe or not. At his impor∣tunate intreaty the gentleman stayd, to see what tidings he would bring. Now when the Franciscan heard the man behind him calling for Frier Iohn (doubting that the gentlewoman was discried) he came running vpon him, and with a long pike staffe which he caried, tooke him such a blow vnder the short ribbes, that he strooke him off his horse to the ground, and presently falling vpon him, cut his throate. The gentleman seeing his man a farre off falling downe, thinking that he had fallen by some mischance, went backe to helpe him vp: whom the Frier had no sooner espied, but he strucke him with his pike staffe, as he had done his man, and bearing him downe, fel vpon him. But the gentleman (being lusty and strong) clasped his armes so fast about him, that he could neither stab nor hurt him, cau∣sing withall his dagger to fall out of his hand: which his wife forthwith tooke vp, and gaue to her husband, holding him downe by the cowle with all her might, whilest her husband stabbed him in diuers places, vntill he cried him mercy, and confessed all his villany. The gentleman being loth to kill him, sent his wife home to call some of his men, who came running thither in all hast, and taking vp the

Franciscan, brought him to the gentlemans house, from whence he was caried to the Emperours Deputie in Flanders, to whom he confessed this his notorious and felonious fact. Where it was also found partly by his owne confession, partly by proofe and information giuen to the commissioners appointed for that pur∣pose, that a number of gentlewomen and other beautiful maids had bin conueyed into that monastery, after the same manner that this Franciscan would haue caried her away. Whereupon after that the women (detained by them in the monastery) were had out, both they and the Couent were burned together for a monument and example to all posteritie.

2 After this foule fact committed by this Monke, let vs heare how a Priest of Limoges (about eleuen yeares ago) committed sundry murthers one in the neck of another. A gentleman of Lymosin, Lord of S. Iohn of Ligoures (kinsman to the Marshall S. Andrew) hauing committed incest with his wiues mother, and hauing had children by her, declared it to a shaueling in way of confession. Whereupon the Priest (who was a false coiner) tooke occasion to perswade him (as hauing him in his lurch and at his lure, by this his confession) to play the knaue as he had done, and to become a false coyner with him. Now after they had followed this occu∣pation for a time, the Priest perceiuing that the gentleman was still troubled in conscience with his incest (notwithstanding he had sundry times absolued him) and that hee affected his wiues mother more then his wife, perswaded him, that the mother was rather his wife then the daughter, and therefore that his ma∣riage, his children and all were accursed. Whereupon he vndertooke to dispatch them out of the way, whilest the gentleman was absent, yet not without his con∣sent. For comming one night (as his manner was) into the Castle (with certaine cruel cut-throates which he had brought with him) he went directly to the cham∣ber where the gentlewomen lay, and murthered them all in their beds; as also two yong children, one of which called him by his name, and held vp his hands vnto him, as the Priest executed since in France, and the gentleman at Lauzanne, confessed at their deaths. Neither herewith content, with his crue of cut-throate companions he massacred the rest that remained in the house, and laying all the dead bodies together in a chamber, set the Castle on fire, thinking by that meanes to couer the murther. But (as God would) neither the bodies nor the chamber wherein they were, tooke fire, and so the murther was detected. Whereupon the gentleman knowing not well what course to take, nor which way to turne him∣selfe, fled into Sauoye, where passing by Geneua he was discried, and from thence pursued and apprehended at Lauzanne, where he was executed according to law, acknowledging his offence and Gods great mercy towards him, in bringing him by this chastisement home to himselfe. This is the history, as I heard it credibly reported by those that saw him arraigned and executed: which albeit I haue of purpose abridged (as I haue done also the rest) yet I could not omit one circum∣stance, how that euen then when the child called him by his name, and held vp his hands vnto him (as children are wont to do, smiling on those they looke vpon) he did most cruelly murther him. And it was not without cause that God would haue this circumstance freely confessed both by the Priest and the gentleman, which otherwise would neuer haue bin suspected. For doubtlesse it doth much aggrauate, and as it were double and treble his offence, especially if we compare it with the fact of heathen men, as of those ten whom Herodotus mentioneth in his fift booke, who being sent to murther a new borne babe, were so moued with pity

when the child smiled vpon them, that their hearts relented, and (as it were) mel∣ted within them. Howbeit, there are so many circumstāces to be considered in this abhomninable fact, that it is hard to say where a man should especially in∣sist.

3 But because the naming of Lauzanne (where this execution was done) puts me in mind of Geneua adioyning, where another murthering Priest was exe∣cuted, I will here relate that story. A certaine Priest in Foussigny called Dom Iohn (vnder the dominion of Thiez then gouernour of Geneua) hauing boared out his brothers eyes with an awle as he was asleep, and obtained his pardon of the then Bishop of Geneua: not long after he committed him to a gossip of his, to the end he might drowne him, by casting him downe from a bridge into the water, vn∣der colour of bringing him to Chambery to S. Suayre, a Saint then in great request. VVhich thing the assassin knowing not how to effect, whilest he was in his iour∣ney (seeing he had not the heart to commit such a cruell fact,) not long after vn∣der colour as though he would bring him to S. Claude, he caried him in the night into a barne, where he with one of his companions murthered him: and hauing so done, cast him into a swift streame, where he was found by a woman which sought after a strayed calfe. VVhereupon the Priest was apprehended in his bed with his whore, and brought to Geneua, where his hand was first cut off, and af∣ter that his head; hauing before confessed the fact, and giuen no other reason of the hatred which he bore him, but onely because he was a great spender. It is fur∣ther reported, that this kinde Kit hauing pricked his brothers eyes with a nawle, and perceiuing that he was not stone blinde, but that he could see a little; boa∣red them the second time with a woodden pinne. This punishment was infli∣cted vpon this malefactor shortly after the reformation of religion in the sayd citie.

4 But among other murthering Priests, I may not omit one, of whom men∣tion is made in the French Chronicles, who scaped not so scot-free as the former. In the yeare 1530. the nineteenth of Aprill, a certaine Sir Iohn comming to Au∣tuns Colledge in Paris, right ouer against Saint Andrew des Ars, to visite the Parson of the place where he was Curate, killed his man in the night, and after cut the Parsons throate. For which murther he was degraded in the Court of our Ladies Church, the same yeare, the fourth of May: and being apparelled in a fools coate, was sent to a worshipfull gentleman, one Master Iohn Morin (then Iudge of criminall causes) by whom he was sentenced to haue his hand cut off, and it to∣gether with the faulcheon wherewith he had committed the murther, to be nailed to a post before the said Colledge, and after to be burned quick before the towne house. This sentence being giuen in open Court, was put in execution the fift day of the said moneth.

5 But giue me leaue to speake a word or two more concerning Paris: for there (no doubt) we shall find sundry other examples of murthers committed by Cler∣gy-men, and namely by Priests. But for this present I wil insist in one onely, which was discouered and punished by order of law, as followeth. In an Inne at Soyssons called The great head, the good man of the house his daughter played a slippery tricke with one, and was deliuered of a daughter. Her father, who could neuer a∣bide the child, because it put him in mind of his daughters shamefull fact, sent her to Paris to a Sempster to learne to sow. And coming afterwards to Paris himselfe, he fell in acquaintance with a priest called M. Hector, a bakers son, borne at Noyon;

to whom he declared that he had a daughter about seuen or eight yeares of age, whom he would gladly haue bestowed in a monastery or some other place, he ca∣red not where, nor how, so that he might neuer heare of her againe; telling him, that for the effecting hereof he could be content to giue an hundred crowns. The Priest being greedy of gaine, vndertooke the matter, and causing the girle to be brought vnto him, together with the mony which they were agreed vpon, he tooke his leaue of him, and caried her home to his house. Whither he was no soo∣ner come, but he cut her throate▪ and hauing so done, caried the corps into the churchyard of S. Nicholas in the fields, where hauing cast it among certaine net∣tles, he walked vp & downe as though he had bin praying on his Portuise. Shortly after came a Sexten, and as he was digging a graue, the Priest came vnto him, and told him that he had seene a pitiful spectacle, to wit, a yong maid hauing her throte cut, and cast among the nettles; and desired him for auoiding of offence, to bury her, promising to giue him a teston for his paines. The Sexten refused his offer, and further told him, that he would informe the Court thereof: which he did; (the Priest in the meane time flying to Noyon.) The Court hauing intelligence hereof, caused the corps to be caried to a place called Chastelet, there to be exposed to the open view: whither (as God wold) the Sempster (her old mistris) came to see her: who knowing her wel, declared to the Court how an Inne-keeper of Soyssons (her grandfather) had committed her to the custody of one M. Hector a Priest. The Sexten also informed the Court of the conference which had passed betweene M. Hector and him. The Court taking notice of these informations, sent his bro∣ther in law to prison, hoping by that meanes to learne what was become of him, (seeing he resorted oftē to his house.) Now during the time of his imprisonment, (they dayly pressing him with interrogatories, to the end they might learne what was become of his brother, albeit he knew nothing) it fortuned that the Priest came to S. Denis neare to Paris; from whence he sent a messenger to his brother in law (neuer dreaming of his imprisonment) to request him to come to him, and to informe him what rumour went of him. Where the messenger coming to the prisoners wife (the Priests sister) was presently apprehended and brought before the Court; and hauing told them where M. Hector was, they sent a warrant for his apprehension. Where, after he had confessed the fact, he was condemned by the Court of Chastelet to be degraded, to haue his hand cut off, to be broken vpon the wheele, and after to be burned. But he appealed to the high Court of Parliament at Paris, which mitigating the sentence, condemned him onely to be degraded, to haue his hand cut off, to be hanged, and after to be burned. This tragicall euent happened about fourteene yeares ago. But I may not forget a ieast of his: for ha∣uing his hand cut off, and meeting with one of his acquaintance, as he was going to the place of execution, he said, Auise vn peu, Herry men ami, ie ne saurai peu can∣ter Messe; on m'a coupé vne main: That is, See here friend Harry, I can say Masse no more; they haue cut off my hand. The man to whom I am beholding for this story, dwelt in the same towne with this malefactor, and told me that he heard him sing his first Masse, with all the ceremonies and solemnities thereto belonging.

6 There was also a Priest at Orleans (about 37. yeares ago) who being iealous of a whore which he kept, brought her into a tauerne, where leading her aside as though he would haue dallied with her, he cast her on a bed, and with a razor (which he had in his sleeue) cut her throate. For which murther he was only con∣demned to perpetuall prison, as it was told me by a famous lawyer, who was then a student in the same citie.

7 As for cruelties (though no murther be voyd of crueltie) where can we heare of a greater then that which is commonly practised by Monkes, (as them∣selues confesse) I meane their vsuall maner of pulling men ouer the pearch in pace? True it is indeed, they vtterly renounce and disclaime this word crueltie: for they will not grant that it is crueltie to send men into another world in pace. But if they deny it to be crueltie to murther a man in pace, they must needs deny that to die of hunger and thirst is a cruell death: which is •• p••••gnant to common sence. But leauing this dispute, let vs come to other notorious cruelties, and among the rest to a kind of torment which lay-men among Christians wold neuer haue inflicted vpon Pagans or infidels, but would haue left it for Barbarians, as being too bar∣barous to be practised by them. It is that which Plutarch (in the life of Artaxerxes) calleth Scapheusis: to which this is not vnlike which I am about to relate. The last Duke of Lymbourgh being dead without issue, the Princes who were next heires (as being nearest of bloud) viz. the Duke of Brabant and the Earle of Guelderland waged warre one against another, for the Dukedome. In the end the Duke of Bra∣bant got the victory: where the Bishop of Collen (who had aided the Earle of Guel∣derland) was taken prisoner, and committed to the custody of the Earle of Mount in Haynoult, where he continued for the space of seuen yeares, till he had agreed to all such articles as were demaunded of him. Being set at liberty at the last, he be∣sought the Earle of Mount to beare him company to Tuits (a towne standing vpon Rheyne right ouer against Collen) whereunto the Earle easily condescended. Now as they were going ouer a bridge which stood vpon the riuer, an ambush of horsemen (which by the Bishops appointment lay hard by) rushed out suddenly vpon the Earle mistrusting no such matter: and thus he seized vpon him, and kept him in perpetuall prison: and to the end he might giue him more kind entertain∣ment, caused an iron cage to be made, which in sommer was annointed ouer with hony and set in the open Sunne, lodging the poore Earle therein, there to be as∣saulted by flies (you may well imagine how.) Consider here (gentle Reader) this Bishops crueltie (ioyned with treason) coming not much short of the immanity of Busiris and Phalaris. For doubtlesse of all other cruelties those are the greatest, which cause men to languish and pine away for a long time in great anguish.

8 Moreouer, we reade of two Channons of Collen, who vsed the like treche∣ry: for hauing inuited a bailiffe of the towne to dinner, called Herman Grin, and making great shew of loue and kindnesse (albeit they hated him to the death) they led him out to see a Lion, (which they kept in honor of their Bishop) whom they knew to be hunger-bit: and he was no sooner come into the place, but they shut the doore vpon him. The man seeing himselfe in this danger, plucked vp a good heart, and winding his cloake about his left arme, thrust it into the Lions mouth as he came rushing vpon him, and with his right hand thrust his rapier into his belly, and slue him.

9 But to returne to Prelates: we reade how one Henry Archbishop of Collen most cruelly tormented Earle Fredericke: for hauing broken his armes, legs, thighs, back and neck vpon the wheele, he caused him to finish the rest of his life in lin∣gring paine, exposing him to the crowes.

10 But if any desire to heare of a cruelty not proceeding from reuenge, but committed in a merriment against such as neuer gaue the least offence: this it is. In the raigne of the Emperour Otho the great, Hatto Bishop of Ments, tooke such pi∣tie vpon the poore in the time of a great dearth, that he got a multitude of them together into a barne, and burned them all therein; saying that they differed no∣thing

from rats which deuoured corne, and were good for nothing. But obserue the fearfull, terrible, and horrible iudgement of God which befell him whilest he was yet liuing: for he sent great troupes of rats, which after they had grieuously tormented him, ate him vp quicke. And it litle auailed him to go vp to the top of his high tower to saue himselfe: for the rats hunting him from place to place, pur∣sued him thither also; whereupon it is called The rats tower vnto this day. And yet notwithstanding this fearfull example, Heribert Archbishop of Collen, had a bro∣ther who vsed the poore after the same manner, in the time of a dearth.

11 But what shall we say of a Iacobine who poisoned the Emperour Henry the seuenth with his breaden God, which he gaue him in the consecrated host? What will the Friers Diuell do (trow we) if their God be so dangerous to deale with? Vpon which argument I writ this sporting * 1.21 huictain.

Les Payens ne vouloyent mettre au nombre des Dieux Ceux qui au genre humain estoyent pernicieux. Si le Dieu de paste est vn Dieu qui empoisonne, (Dont l'Empereur Henri tesmoignage nous donne) Que diroyent les Payens de ces gentils Docteurs, Qui les hommes ont fait de lui adorateurs? Car si leur Dieu ne fait de meurtrir conscience, Entre leur Diable & Dieu quelle est la difference?

That is,

Neuer did Pagans mong'st their Gods recite, Who euer mortall wight had ill bestead: If then the God of bread can poison hide, As hath bene tride by Henry to his bane: What would our Pagans faine, that knew of yore How they do it adore with bended knee? For if their God be free to worke such euill, What difference is betwixt their God and Deuill?

If any shall haply obiect, that these sauage cruelties were not committed in these dayes, but long before. I answer, that seeing the world hath euer growne worse and worse, and the Cleargy rather then the Laity (as the three Preachers so often before alleadged do sufficiently testifie) those cruelties may wel be accounted but small and tollerable in comparison. But if any be incredulous or hard of beleefe, he may reade what Cannibal-like cruelties certaine Monks and Popish prelates haue exercised of late against such as wold not embrace the Romane religion, and how they handled them when once they came within their walke. As among the rest, the history of Iohn de Roma a Iacobine Frier, one of the holy house of Spaine, a per∣secutor of the poore Christians of Merindol and Cabriere, who neuer left beating his braines, how he might inuent new torments to inflict vpon these poore peo∣ple and their confederates: one of which was to fill bootes with boyling grease, and to pull them on the legs of those whom he was to examine, that the extremi∣tie of paine might so distract them, as that they might make no pertinent answer to any demaund. And we are not to wonder how they could play the bloudy but∣chers, and exercise their tyranny vpon these silly soules, seeing they vsurped almost a soueraigne power and princely authority ouer them. Not to go farre back, nor farre off for examples, we reade how the said Frier vnder colour of his commission (as being one of the Inquisition) was both accuser, party, and Iudge; & how he ca∣ried with him through Prouence a number of vile varlets well appointed; in all pla∣ces

where euer he came (especially in country townes) breaking open chests and trunks, and stealing thence gold and siluer, and what else might easily be packed vp, and caried away; pilling & polling those whom he could not otherwise spoile, either by impositions or amercements, or confiscations of their goods.

12 I was here purposed to haue ended this Chapter, but that I remember I haue not spoken of those that imbrue their hands in their owne bloud, and sacri∣fice themselues to their owne shame: which I had rather here adde (though some∣what out of order) then altogether to omit them. Howbeit my meaning is not to busie my selfe with the examples of Clergymen who haue layd violent hands vpō themselues, therewith to parallele the examples of Laymen who haue bin moued to do the like. I will onely insist vpon one, which is proper vnto them quarto modo (as Logicians speake.) For all the former examples of felons de se, are common as well to the Cleargy as to the Laity. But this which I am about to relate, is pe∣culiar to Cleargy-men, and Lay-men haue no part therein▪ being a murther com∣mitted vpon a proud conceit which popish priests had of their merits, that they (forsooth) did as farre exceed Lay-mens merits, as the pillars in the Church do their shadowes. For though Laymen put great confidence in them, yet they neuer so relyed vpon them, as that they would aduenture to cast themselues from the top of a high towre, or into a deepe well: which befel this merit-monger of whom we speake. The story is this. A Monk called Heron, hauing liued fifty yeares in an Er∣mitage, and strictly obserued the rules and orders of his founder, was so puffed vp with pride & vaine conceit of himselfe, in regard of the merit of his works, that the diuel appeared vnto him & tempted him, to take trial of the vertue of thē by casting himselfe into a well; assuring him he should escape without harme. The fond Frier thinking it had bin an Angel sent vnto him from heauen for this end, cast himselfe into a well of that depth, that the bottome of it could not be seene; whence being drawne out again with much ado, they could not perswade him that it was the di∣uell which appeared vnto him and tempted him: and so he died the third day af∣ter, persisting obstinate in this opinion. This story I found in a fragment of a Latin booke (the author whereof is not knowne) written faire in parchment, and seemeth to be of great antiquity, at leastwise of as great as such Ecclesiasticall records may be. But who euer was the author thereof, certen it is, he was a fauourer of the fra∣ternity. For he speaketh of them, as being one of the same order, and giues them brotherly warning to looke to themselues. I will therefore alleadge the Latin story word for word, as I copied it out of the said fragment, which (I take it) neuer came to light before: for otherwise I would haue contented my selfe to haue aduertised the Reader thereof. Howbeit if it haue passed the presse, I shall do no man wrong but my self, sith I haue eased the Reader of so much paine in the copying of it out. Certaine of mine acquaintance to whom I shewed it, are of opinion that it is to be found in a booke called Vitae Patrum.

DE MORTE HERONIS SENIS.

Heronem post multorum laborem annorum deceptum, quòd non habuit discretionem.

ET vt hanc candem definitionem antiquitùs à sancto Antonio & caeteris patribus pro∣mulgatam, recens quoque (sicut promisimus) confirmet exemplum, recolite id quod nuper gestum, oculorum vestrorū vidistis obtutibus: senem videlicet Heronem ante pau∣cos admodum dies illusione Diaboli, à summis ad ima deiectū, quem quinquaginta anni••

in hac Eremo commoratum, singulari districtione rigorem continentiae tenuisse memini∣mus, & solitudinis secreta vltra omnes hîc commorantes miro feruore sectatum. Hic igi∣tur quo pacto quáue ratione post tantos labores ab insidiatore illusus, grauissimo corruens lapsu, cunctos in hac eremo constitutos luctuoso dolore percussit? Nónne quòd minus vir∣tute discretionis possessa, suis definitionibus regi, quàm consilijs vel collationibus fratrum atque institutis maiorum maluit obedire? Siquidem tanto rigore immutabilem 〈◊〉〈◊〉 continentiam semper exercuit, & solitudinis cellae{que} ita iugiter secreta sectatus est, vt ab eo participationem in••undi confraternitate conniuij, ne veneratio quidem dici paschalis aliquando potuerit obtinere: in qua fratribus cunctis pro anniuersaria solemnitate in Ec∣clesia retentatis, solus non poterat aggredi, ne quantulumcunque, perceptione leguminis parui, à suo videretur proposito relaxasse. Qua praesumptione deceptus, Angelum Satanae vel••ti Angelum lucis ••um summa veneratione suscipiens, eius{que} praeceptis prono obediens famulatu, semetipsum in puteum, cuius profunditatem oculorum non attingit intuitus, praecipitem dedit: de Angeli videlicet sui sponsione non dubitans, qui ••um pro merito vir∣tutum ac laborum suorum, nequaquam posse firmauerat vlli iam discrimini subiacere. Cuius rei fidem vt experimento suae sospitatis euidentissimè comprobaret, supradicto se pu∣teo nocte intempesta illusus iniecit: magnum sc. virtutis suae meritum probaturus cum in∣de exisset ill••sus. De quo cum penè iam exanguis ingenti fratrum labore fuisset extra∣ctus, vitam die tertia finiturus, quod his deterius est, ita in deceptionis suae permansit ob∣stinatione, vt ei nec experimentum quidem mortis suae potuerit persuadere, quòd fuisset daemonum calliditate delusus. Quamobrem pro meritis tantorum laborum & annorum numerositate, qua in eremo perdurauit, hoc miseratione & humanitate summa ab his qui eius compatiebantur exitio, vix à Presbytero & Ab••ate Paphnutio potuit obtineri, vt non inter biothanatous reputatus, etiam memoria & oblatione pausantium iudica∣retur indignus.

And here I thought it not amisse to alleadge another place out of the same booke, where mention is made of an Abbot, who was in like sort deluded by the diuell, though not so dangerously as the former.

DE ILLVSIONE ABBATIS IOHANNIS.

IN quo etiam Abbatem Iohannem qui * lico commoratur, nouimus nuper illusum. Nam quum exhausto corpore atque defecto, perceptionem cibi biduano ieiunio distulisset, ac∣cedenti ei ad refectionem die postero, veniens diabolus in figura Aethiopis tetri, atque ad eius genua prouolutus, Indulge, inquit, mihi, quòd ego tibi hunc laborem indixi. Itaque ille vir tantus & discretionis ratione perfectus, sub colore continentiae incongruenter ex∣ercitatus, intellexit se ab hoc calliditate diaboli circumuentum, tali{que} distentum ••eiunio, vt lassitudinem non necessariam, immò etiam spiritui nocituram, fatigato corpori super∣poneret: & paracharaximo scilicet illusus numismatis, cum in illo veri regis imaginem veneratus est, parum discutit an esset legitimè figuratum. Vltima verò obseruatio huius probabilis trapezitae, quam de inquisitione ponderis esse praediximus, taliter implebitur, si quicquid gerendum cogitatio nostra suggesserit, omni scrupulo retractantes, atque in nostri pectoris trutina collocantes, aequilibratione iustissima perpend••mus, an plenum ho∣nestate communi sit, an timore domini sit graue, an integrum sensu, aut humana ostenta∣tione, aut aliqua nouitatis praesumptione sit leue: an meriti eius pondus inanis cenodoxiae non iniminuerit, vel adroserit gloria, & sic ea protinus ad examen publicum trutinan∣tes, id est, ad Prophetarum & Apostolorum actus, ac testimonia conferentes, vel tanquam integra atque perfecta, & illis compensantia teneamus, vel tanquam imperfecta, atque damnosa, nec illorum ponderi consonantia, omni cautione ac diligentia refu••emus.

CHAP. XXV. Of Blasphemies vttered by Popish Prelates.

THe blasphemies of our good Catholickes of the Popish Cleargie, I here handle apart from those of the Laitie: not intending thereby to honour them, or thinking it more fitting and beseeming them, but yeelding rather to my memory, which doth not alwayes fur∣nish me with fit examples as oftē as I could wish, but maketh me to attend and wait, whereby I am constrained in the meane time to intreate of some other argument, whereof I haue examples more ready at hand. But the Reader can lose nothing by the bargaine: for the longer my memory causeth me to stay, the more examples it affoordeth me afterwards, which I communicate & impart vnto him.

2 But not to dwell too long in the preface, we haue here first to note, that whereas it was said in old time as it were by way of a prouerbe, He sweareth like a gentlemā: (for it was thought a thing vnbeseeming a base pais••nt to renoūce God, non pertinere ad rurales renūtiare Deū, as we heard before out of Menot) others were wont to say & do euen at this day, He sweareth like a carter, or he sweareth like an Ab∣bot, or he sweareth like a Prelat. But leauing the discussing of this question to others, (viz. which of all three is grounded vpon best reason) this one thing I will say by the way, that gentlemen and carters haue learned the tricke or trade or art of blas∣pheming of Popish Prelats and other polshorne Popelings, and not they of them. And I doubt not but all men of good and sound iudgement, and such as are not caried away with preiudice in regard of partialitie or priuate respect, will iumpe with me in this opinion. If they shall say that Church-men haue bin indeed mai∣sters in that trade, but that their schollers haue excelled them; I easily accord that in some blasphemy they might farre exceed them. But two sort•• of blasphemies there are, which are proper and peculiar to them alone. For whereas Lay-men blaspheme God but in word onely, Church-men blaspheme him also in deed: for they both dishonor him by their wicked liues, and teare him in peeces with their bloudy oathes: (for I take the word here in a more generall acception then it is commonly taken, being directed by the Greeke Etymology formerly spoken of.) And though we should but speake of blasphemies in word only, how many sorts (may we thinke) are there to be found in the writings of these Sir Iohns, of which Lay-men neuer dreamed?

3 First therfore to begin with blasphemies common as well to Laicks as Cle∣ricks, vttered in dishonor of God by these swearing swaggerers and fustian fooles, it will not sinke into my head, that secular men euer rapped out such wicked and wild oathes as Church-men haue done, but rather the contrary. How euer it be, this I am sure of, that though I continued long in Italy (where aboue all other countries blasphemy doth most fearfully abound) and was often in place (though sore against my will) where I heard very outragious & detestable speeches against our Sauiour Christ and the blessed Virgin (whom they handle after a farre stran∣ger manner then they do in France,) yet neuer heard I such a blasphemy as this, which was vttered by a Priest at Rome, Al dispetto di quel can che pendeua nella Croce.

He had indeed belched out sundry other before he came to this which he reserued for the last to make vp his mouth withall, as being most horrible of all the rest. And what moued him (may we think) to breake forth into this blasphemy, but a strum∣pet of his (forsooth) who had playd him a slippery touch, as himselfe affirmed. As 〈◊〉〈◊〉 this were not to play Will Sommers to strike his next fellow: that because the cur∣tizan had angered him, he would reuenge himselfe vpon God, and so despite and villanize him, as neither Turke nor Iew could haue done worse. For he further ad∣ded a most execrable speech, which I will here omit. As for blasphemies vttered in coole bloud without choler, passion or heate of affection, our good Catholicks of the Romish hierarchy are so far from being indebted to the Laity, that (except they will be very vngrateful) they must needs acknowledge themselues much be∣holding vnto thē: for proofe wherof, as I haue alleadged examples of the blasphe∣mies of the one, so I wil here alleadge some few of the other. And first I wil begin with that which is spoken in way of a prouerbe, Weepe not, for perhaps it is not true. Which grew (as it is said) vpon speech of one that preached of the passion, who after he had made the poore people shed teares by the pitifull exclamations which he made vpon the cruel death which our Sauiour suffered vpon the crosse▪ hauing had the pastime and sport he looked for, said, Weepe not, for perhaps it is not true. And what shall we say of the ghostly father, who preaching at Tours (about three or foure yeares ago) said, These wicked Huguenots do vtterly renounce the Pope, and say, that we are onely to hold that which Christ hath taught: But I tell you, that if Christ and the Pope should sit here either of them in a chaire, and the one of them should enioyne me one thing, and the other another; I would obey the Pope rather then Christ. And this agreeth well with that which an Italian writeth of a Cardinall, who being sick vnto the death, and desirous to be shriuen, when his confessor told him (vpon occasion) that he ought to worship one only God. So I do (quoth he) and that is the Pope. For seeing that the Pope is God on earth (and that both are not to be worshipped) I had rather worship him that is visible, then God who is inuisible. His confessor replying againe, and telling him, that the Pope was neither God nor Christ (albeit the simple seduced world did hold him for his vicar.) How (quoth he) can it be said, that the Pope is Christs Vicar? if that were so, Christ should be greater then the Pope. But I would thou shouldst know, that if he should come in proper person to Rome, the Pope would not entertaine him, ex∣cept he would submit himselfe and kisse his pantoufle. Notwithstanding Pope Iu∣lius the third (otherwise called Iohn Maria de Monte) was cōtent to be called Gods Vicar, when ••he said, that if God was so angry for an apple, that for it he cast our first father Adam out of Paradise, then might he (who was his Vicar) wel be angry for a Peacock which is a greater matter (I wisse) then an apple. This he meant of a Peacock serued him in at dinner, which he had commaunded should be kept cold for supper, but was not. For which ouersight being in a wonderfull chafe, a Car∣dinall sitting with him at the table, told him that he ought not to be so angry for such a trifle: to whom the Pope answered as is aforesaid. The same holy father mis∣sing his dish of porke, which was wont to be one of his standing dishes, (for he lo∣ued porke and peacock exceeding well) when his steward told him, that the Phy∣sition had giuen order there should be none serued in, because it was hurtfull for his health: he would not take this reason for good payment, but began to despite him whose vicar he boasted himselfe to be, saying: Porta mi quel mio piatto, all dis∣petto di Dio: Fetch me my * 3.1 Porke in despight of God. In reading of which story, that came to my mind which I heard reported of Pope Paul the third, how that in pro∣cession

at Rome, where the Corpus Christi (as they call it) was solemnly caried be∣fore him in procession, he should say, that if the company which went before staid so long, they would make him renounce Christ. Wherupon one ranne before, and willed them to march on faster: for his Holinesse (saith he) is in such a rage by rea∣son of your long stay, that he is ready to renounce Christ and all the Kirielle. Con∣sider (gentle Reader) how handsomly these things hang together, that he which went in solemne procession in honour of the body of Christ (as they would make vs beleeue) should deny Christ. But they who by the grace of God haue their eies opened to see such abuses, ought to consider what the Greek prouerb saith of such speeches, that Often when the tongue trippeth, it telleth the truth. For (considering the abuse therein cōmitted) were it not better to deny Christ, then to make him such a morrice dancer in a May-game? An example of this tripping we haue in him who said to a Priest, Come and say Masse in an hundred thousand diuels names, for my maister is angry. Another Masse-monging gentleman of Lorraine being angry with his sonne (who was a Masse-maligner) said vnto him, Get you to Masse in the diuels name, to Masse. Whereof his sonne tooke aduantage, acknowledging that his father spake truer then he was aware. But to returne to our blasphemers, we find that the * 3.2 Vicars aforesaid made no conscience to appropriate and apply to themselues (some in earnest, others in sport) those texts of Scripture, wherein he (whose vicars they pretend themselues to be) speaketh of himselfe. Alexander the fift lying on his death bed, vsed the same words to those that stood about him that Christ did to his Apostles, My peace I giue vnto you, my peace I leaue with you. And Pope Paul the third knew how to apply the words of Saint Paul: I would wish my selfe separate from Christ for my brethren, which are my kinsmen according to the flesh. For being told vpon a time by certaine Cardinals in open Consistory, that he could not giue Parma and Plays••nce to his bastards, except he would damne him∣selfe: he answered them in this sort, If Saint Paul bare so tender an affection to his countrymen (whom he calleth his brethren) that he desired to be separate from Christ to the end they might be saued; why should not I beare so tender an affe∣ction to my sonnes and nephewes, as to labour to make them great with the ha∣zard of mine owne saluation? As for the speech of Pope Leo the tenth, it suteth better with the atheist call speech of the gallant who said, Weepe not, for perhaps it is not true. For when Cardinall Bembus alleadged a certaine place out of the new Testament, he answered him in this sort, O what wealth haue we gotten by this fable of Christ? of which blasphemy, not only this Pope, but the greatest part of his pu••-fellows are guilty in the highest degree, if we may iudge of the tree by his fruites.

4 There are also sundry other blasphemies vttered by these Sir Iohns▪ as well in their disputations as in their sermons and writings, of which I will here alleadge some few examples. A popish Prelate disputing on a time against certaine his ad∣uersaries, said he wondred that they vnderstood not a text in the new Testament, very pregnant to stop the mouthes of the Lutherans in the matter of Iustification by faith onely. For marke (said he) when the Apostles were on the sea in a sm••ll ship▪ tossed with the wind, Saint Peter (being a Lutheran, and bel••euing that his b••••e ••aith was able to saue him) said vnto Christ, Bid me come vnto thee vpon the waters. And (he hauing bidden him come) leapt into the sea with his naked f••ith and hardly escaped drowning: Nay, he had bin drowned out of question, if Christ had not miraculously assisted him and pulled him into the ship, causing him to returne to his worke againe, viz. to his rowing. Now then let these fellows who rely so much vpon their faith, go and drowne with S. Peter if they wil. For my part

I am not determined to forsake the smal vessel, but to abide in it rowing at one oa••e or other, still labouring and exercising my selfe in good workes. If we had no other example, this alone were sufficient to shew how these Sir Iohns dallied with the Scriptures. Howbeit there are infinite like to be found. Among which, that of a Popish Prelate is very common, who was not ashamed to say, that Saint Paul spake many things which he might well haue concealed, and that if he had considered the offence which might haue bin taken thereat, he would haue bin better aduised before he had spoken them. But what greater blasphemies could all the diuels in hell deuise and forge, then those which we reade in the booke of Conformities, printed at Millan by one Gotard Pontice, in the yeare 1510. and after that in other places? where sundry things are recorded more like dreames and dotages then true stories. For though the world in old time was maruailously blinded (as we know) in such sort that a man would haue thought they had (through the iust iudgment of God) shut their eyes, that they might not see the truth: yet was it nothing to the blindnesse of those blind bayards, who published the book of Conformities, con∣taining such horrible, hideous and hellish blasphemies, that it is almost incredible there should any be found so gracelesse as once durst breathe or belch them out. For proofe whereof consider these particulars: Christ was transfigured but once, S. Francis twenty times. Christ changed water into wine but once, S. Francis did it thrise. Christ felt the paine of his wounds but a short time, S. Francis felt the paine of his for the space of two yeares together. And as for miracles, as giuing sight to the blind, restoring limmes to the lame, casting diuels out of men possessed, and raising the dead, Christ hath done nothing in comparison of S. Francis and his brethren. For they haue giuen sight to aboue a thousand blind; they haue made a∣boue a thousand lame to walke, as well men as beasts; they haue cast diuels out of mo then a thousand demoniacks, and haue raised aboue a thousand from death to life. Is it possible that a man should heare these false Friers teach and preach such stuffe as this without spitting in their faces? what say I, without spitting in their fa∣ces? nay without tearing them in peeces? True it is indeed, they durst not say in plaine termes, that Christ was not worthy to wipe S. Francis his shoes for they are content to say that ••e excelled the Apostles, the Saints, and the Angels:) But hauing confidently auouched that his miracles did infinitely surpasse Christs mi∣racles: they thought there was none so simple but could easily inferre the conclu∣sion, though he had neuer studied the principles of Logicke. But I shall desire thee (gentle Reader) to lend thy patient eare to other sayings in this booke, Fol. 5. of the foresaid impression: Beata Maria, vt Franciscus mitteretur in mundum, Patri supplicauit. Item, Maria Francisci precibus indulgentiam pro peccatoribus in Ecclesiae Sanctae Mariae de Portiuncula impetrauit: that is, The virgin Mary prayed to God the Father that he would send Saint Francis into the world: and by his intercession obtained pardon for sinners in the Church of Saint Mary de Portiuncula. But herein consi∣steth the very quintessence of impudency, in that they make the Scripture to come at their whistle, and serue their diuellish legendary lies, which they haue coyned of their S. Francis. As when they say (in the same place) Franciscus est in gloria Dei Patris, Phil. 2. that is, S. Francis is in the glory of God the Father. He that desireth to heare more of such abuses, deprauations and falsifications of holy Scripture all on a thrum, farre more incredible then the former, let him reade that which is written fol. 4. Christus fecit Franciscum sibi similem: primò in vita virtuosa: deinde impressione stigmatū. Hinc de beato Francisco illud Ecclesiastici 44. dicitur, Non est inuentus similis illi, qui conseruaret legem Excelsi. Quibus verbis, beati Francisci celebritas, praeclaritas,

sanctitas, & fama radiosa declaratur. Fuit enim homo syncerissimus. Item, qualiter, quo∣modo, & ad quid Deus fecit Franciscum, ostenditur Genesis 1. & 2. vbi sic scribitur, Fa∣ciamus hominem (id est Franciscum) ad imaginem & similitudinem nostram: & praesit piscibus maris, & volatilibus coeli, & bestijs terrae, vniuersae{que} creaturae, omni{que} reptili quod mouetur in terra. Et sequitur, Formauit Deus hominem de limo terrae: & inspirauit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae, & factus est homo in animā viuentem. Sequitur, Posuit ••um in Paradiso, vt operaretur & custodiret illū. Et ibidem, Ex omni ligno Paradisi co∣mede: de ligno autem scientae boni & mali ne comedas. Et subditur, quòd Deus ait, quòd non erat bonum esse hominem solum: & fecit ei adiutorium simile sibi. Et tulit vnam de cos••is eius, & ex ea Euam aedificauit. In quibus verbis ostenditur quòd B. Franciscus fuit homo, primò singularissimus, & à Deo in mundum destinatus, non casis fortuito, aut hominum consilio: sed diuina prouidentia, qua regulantur omnia. Ideo ad hoc ostenden∣dum dicitur, Faciamus. Verbum est totius Trinitatis beatum Franciscum ad mundum dirigentis. Secundò, quod fuit homo syncerissimus, & à corporis brutalitate segregatus: quia homo fuit, & per consequens non sensualis, aut sensualitati corporis deditus, sed ab ea separatus, rationabilis, & rationi subditus & subiectus. Sic enim motus sensuales refre∣nauit poenitentia arctiori vt hostem domesticum perfectè subijceret, & sine difficul∣tate rationi pareret. Tertiò, quod fuit homo perfectissimus: quia ad imaginē Dei. Quar∣tò, homo exemplarissimus: quia ad Dei similitudinem. Quintò, in vita rigidissimus: quia piscibus maris praefuit. Sextò, Angelis dilectissimus: quia volatilibus coeli iunctus fuit. Septimò, cunctis peccatoribus amicissimus: quia bestijs terrae. Octauò, Deo vnitissimus: ideo praefuit vniuersae creaturae. Nonò, diabolo infestissimus: quia omni reptili terr••. Decimò, sua reputatione abiectissimus: quia de limo terrae. Vndecimò, gratia plenissimus: quia inspirauit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae. Decimosecundò, operatione virtuosissi∣mus: quia factus est in animam viuentem. Decimotertiò, Dei contemplatione intentissi∣mus: quia in Paradiso semper erat. Decimoquartò, verbo efficacissimus: quia operatus est salutem multorum. Decimoquintò, in omnibus ordinatissimus: quia custodiuit se & alios. Decimosextò, imitator Apostolorum & perfectorū: quia ex omni ligno comedit. Decimo∣septimò, excecrator scelerum contra Deum commissorum: quia de ligno mali non come∣dit. Decimooctauò, paupertatis desponsator, & abdicator terrenorum: quia adiutorium simile sibi, videlicet, contubernium paupertatis est sibi datum. Vltimò, ordinator omni•• sanctitatis & religionis: quia ex eo Ecclesia quoad tres ordines est formata. Tres enim propagines ex ipso sunt, velut ex lateris costa germinatae & productae.

That is, Christ hath made S. Francis like to himselfe: first, in his vertuous life: next in imprinting his wounds in his body. Wherupon it is said, Ecclesiast. 44. There was none like vnto him in keeping the law of the most high. VVhich words set forth the fame, the excellency, sanctity, and glory of S. Francis. Item, of what quality, how, and to what end God created S. Francis, is set downe Gen. 1. &. 2. chap. where it is said, Let vs make man (that is S. Francis) after our image and similitude: and let him haue dominion ouer the fish of the sea, the fowles of the ayre, the beasts of the field, and all creeping things which moue vpon the earth. And then it followeth, God made man of the slime of the earth, and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man was made a liuing soule. Item, the Lord God took man and placed him in the gardē of Eden to dresse it and keepe it: and cōmanded him, saying, Of euery tree of the garden thou shalt eate, but of the tree of knowledge of good and euill thou shalt not eate. After it is said, It is not good that man should be alone: and he made him an helper like vnto himselfe, and tooke out one of his ribs and thereof made Eue. By which words it is manifest, first that S. Francis was a most singular man, one whom God had preordained should come into the world, not by chance, or by the counsell of men, but by his owne prouidence,

whereby he disposeth and gouerneth all things. And therefore it is sayd, Let vs make: A speech vttered by all the persons in the Trinity, appointing S. Francis to come into the world. Secondly, that he was most pure, void of all carnality, brutish∣nes and sensuality: for he was a man, and so consequently not carnal nor addicted to fleshly lusts as beasts are: but exempt from it, as hauing an vnderstanding soule, obedient & subiect to reason. So that through his strict penance, he so wel curbed and kept in his sensuall appetite, that he perfectly foyled and brought vnder his in∣testine enemy, obeying reason without difficulty. Thirdly, most perfect, because he was created in the image of God. Fourthly, a most perfect exemplar or Idea of all goodnesse, because he was made after the similitude of God. Fiftly, of a most austere and strict life, because he had soueraignty ouer the fishes of the sea. Sixt∣ly, most beloued of the Angels, because he was ioyned to the fowles of the ayre. Seuenthly, a great friend to all sinners, because he had Lordship ouer all the beasts of the field. Eightly, most neerly vnited to God, because he was ruler and gouer∣nour of all creatures. Ninthly, a mortall enemy to the diuel, because he had power ouer all that creepeth on the earth. Tenthly, of all men most base in his owne con∣ceit, because he was made of the dust of the earth. 11. Most replenished with grace, because God breathed into him the breath of life. 12. Ful of vertue and ope∣ration, because he was made a liuing soule. 13. Rauished with the contemplation of God, because he was alwayes in Paradise. 14. Most mighty in word, because he saued many. 15. Most orderly in all his actions, because he kept others and himselfe also. 16. An imitator of the Apostles and of the perfect; for he did eate of euery tree. 17. A detester of all wickednesse committed against God, because he did not eate of the tree of knowledge of euill. 18. One that had (as it were) betrothed him∣selfe to pouerty, renouncing the world; because God gaue him an helper to assist him, viz. pouerty to be his companion. And lastly, a dispenser of all sanctity and religion, because of him the Church was formed, as concerning the three orders: for those three branches sprang out of him, as from a rib taken out of his side. Nay there is no testimony of Scripture from the first chapter of Genesis to the end of the Apocalyps, which is not vsed or rather abused to magnifie and set out the order of S. Francis. Fol. 83. Et ideo Iohannes Euangelista, postquam Apoc. cap. 7. de∣scripsit tempus missionis ••. Francisci, scilicet sub apertione sexti sigilli, & quomodo est missus: quia vt Angelus habens signum Dei viui: subdit de multitudine, Francisci prae∣dicatione, vita & exemplo, & suorum sociorum, ad Christum conuersa & conuertenda. Quum dicit, quod vidit numerum signatorum, centum quadraginta quatuor millia ex omni tribu filiorum Israel: hoc potest exponi, quod in hoc ordine tot essent futuri fratres, siue conuertendi per fratres, deducto populo ad Dominum, & hoc in ordinis processu. Vel tempore Antichristi, quando hic ordo, destructis aliis ordinibus, praedicabit contra An∣tichristum. Et tunc iuxta dictū Apostoli & Scripturae, & Apoc. cap. 8, reliquiae Israel ad Dominum conuertentur. Vel potest dici, quod per numerū certum (iuxta modum loquen∣di Scripturae) accipit incertum: vt non solùm sint signati, scilicet habitu Francisci & cru∣cifixi, centum quadraginta quatuor millia, sed infiniti alij. Et hoc videtur Iohannes in∣nuere, quum subdit, quod vidit post praedicta turbam magnam, quam nemo dinumerare poterat: ex omnibus tribubus, populis & linguis, &c. Sic ergo multitudine locorum per angulos mundi diffusorum, apparet multitudo fratrum qui sunt istius ordinis.

That is,

And therefore Saint Iohn the Euangelist (Apocal. 7.) hauing set downe the time when Saint Francis should be sent into the world, namely, at the opening of the sixt seale: and in what sort, viz. as an Angell hauing the signe of the liuing God:

He telleth vs of the multitude which should be conuerted to Christ by the holy life and doctrine of him and his fellows. VVhen he saith, that the number of those which were sealed was an hundred fortie and foure thousand of all the tribes of Israel: which may be thus expounded, that there should be so many Friers of that Order, or of such as were to be conuerted by their meanes, (the people being brought vnto the Lord) and that in the continuation of the order; or rather in the time of Antichrist, when this order should preach against Antichrist, the rest be∣ing abolished. And then (according to the saying of the Apostle, the Scripture, and the Apocalyp. chap. 8.) The remnant of Israel shall be conuerted to the Lord. Or it may be said, that by a certaine number (in the Scripture phrase) is meant an vn∣certaine: to wit, that there shall not onely be an hundred forty and foure thou∣sand Franciscans and Crucigeri sealed, but an infinite number of others also. And this seemeth to be Saint Iohns meaning when he saith, that he saw a great multi∣tude which could not be numbred, of all tribes, people & tongues, &c. So that the multitude of Franciscans may be gathered by the multitude of their Couents in al quarters and corners of the world. And fol. 4. in the same page before the former place, we haue these words: Quibus & alijs quae hîc omittūtur, quanta est gloria beati Francisci, euidenter astruitur & monstratur: & consequenter apparet, quod beatus Fran∣ciscus in coelo praemium habet magnum: & in sede celsa sublimatur: vt de ipso dicatur Domino Iesu illud Psalmi octaui, Gloriâ & honore coronasti eum, & constituisti super opera manuum tuarum. Dedit enim illi gloriam regni qualem nullus ante eum habuit. 1. Paral. 29. that is, by which (and sundry other particulars here omitted) it may ap∣peare how great the glory of Saint Francis is, and consequently how great a re∣ward he hath in heauen, and how he is exalted and set in a high throne. For Psal. 8. the holy Ghost saith to Christ concerning him, Thou hast crowned him with glo∣rie and honour, and hast set him ouer the workes of thy hands. For he hath giuen him a greater measure of glory in his celestiall kingdome, then euer he gaue to any be∣fore him. 1. Paralip. 29. And fol. 14. Fuit etiam beatus Franciscus ministris pluribus &c. that i••, Saint Francis was also manifested to many prouinciall ministers, when he established the last rule. At which words of Saint Francis, Christ bowing him∣selfe, said, that that was his meaning touching the obseruation of the rule; and thereupon cried with a loud voice in their hearing, that himselfe and not S. Fran∣cis was author thereof. It is there further said, that Saint Francis kept euery iot and ••ittle of the law. And fol. 17. that he was Patriarch, Prophet, Apostle, Martyr, Doctor, Confessor, Virgin, Angell, nay aboue all Saints whatsoeuer, most con∣formable to Christ. And fol. 46. he setteth downe the names and sirnames of his twelue Apostles, viz. Petrus Cathanei, Iohannes de Capella, Philippus Longus, &c. And straight after he saith, As Iudas Iscariot wrs cast out of the office of Apostle∣ship vnder Christ, so Iohannes de Capella was put from his Apostleship vnder Saint Francis. And what would we more? when they sticke not to say (fol. 220.) Beatus Franciscus titulatus fuit titulo IESVS per conformitatem quam habuit ad vitam Iesu: NAZARENVS quia vigo purissima: REX, sensuum interiorum & exteriorum custodia & regulatione. IVDAEORVM, quia iubilo & gaudio plenus creaturas omnes ad Deum lau∣dandum solicitauit: that is, Saint Francis was called Iesus in regard of his conformity with him in his holy life. A Nazarite, because he was a most pure virgin. A King, as hauing power and dominion ouer his inward and outward senses. Of the Iewes, because that being full of spirituall and heauenly ioy, he stirred vp all creatures to praise God. But enough of these diabolical and damnable speeches: for I suppose I am come to the height of the blasphemous impieties of these Monkish miscreants,

if I may so call them to expresse the impietie, whereof their blasphemies giue suf∣ficient testimony.

5 Touching blasphemies which haue bene vttered in the pulpit by Popish Preachers, I wil here alleadge some few examples as an additament to the former, yet so as if I haply omit any which shall afterward come to my mind in the second part of the Apologie (where I am to shew how our auncestors suffered their Prea∣chers to leade them by the nose) I will not misse there to insert them. For the pre∣sent, I remember a speech which Menot a French man, and Barelete an Italian deli∣uered in the pulpit, containing such a blasphemy as were enough to make the haire of a mans head stand vpright, viz. that rather then Christ should not haue bin cru∣cified, the vi••gin Mary would haue crucified him with her owne hands. True it is, they alleadge their authors, and further adde that it proceeded of an earnest desire she had of the saluation of mankind. But because it might otherwise haply seeme incredible, I will here set downe their owne words, quoting the place where they are to be found. First then in the sermons of Menot fol. 169. col. 3. towards the end, somwhat before these words, Finis euangeliorum quadragesimaliū, we reade as followeth: Audiui ab ore magistri Huet, in conuenta Parisiensi praedicantis, quod si non alius se obtulisset, virgo Maria tanto zelo amabat redemptionem generis humani, quod proprijs manibus filium crucifixisset. As for Barelete, marke what he saith of the bles∣sed virgin, fol. 115. col. 2. Quia tempore passionis, quamuis sui dolores essent intensi, vi∣dendo filium affligi, tamen volebat filium mori pro humanae generationis salute. Et vt dicit Archiepiscopus, Si alius modus non fuisset, ipsamet filium proprium occidisset: quia non minor erat charitas sua quàm Abrahae, qui filium suum erat paratus occidere. Moreouer he saith that the Apostles went to complaine to her of her sonne, be∣cause he kept not touch with them in sending the holy Ghost: and that there was a dissention betweene the Father and the holy Ghost, who feared to come into the world, lest they should be dealt with as the Iewes dealt with Christ. Vnde i∣sto mane veniunt ad Mariam, dicentes, Heu, filius suus nobis promisit mittere spiritum sanctum: hodie sunt decem dies quod ascendit, & adhuc spiritum sanctum non misit. Et virgo, Non dubitetis quòd hodie omninò mittet: nec a•••• mittere debuit. Et ratio, Quan∣do Deus traxit populum de captiuitate Aegypti, quinquagesimo die descendit in forma ignis in monte Sinai, dando legem: fuit figura, quod quinquagesimo die resurrectionis suae, nos liberaret & viuificaret, vnde ponamus nos in oratione. Petrus cum alijs se ad v∣nam partem posuit: Lazarus cum Lxxij. ad aliam: & Magdalena cum alijs mulieribus ad aliam: & virgo Maria in medio. In coelesti palatio facta est dissentio inter Patrem & Spiritum sanctum. O pater (inquit filius) promisi Apostolis meis paraclitum & consola∣torem: tempus aduenit vt promissionem attendam. Cui pater, Sum contentus: indica ••pi∣ritui sancto. Cui Spiritus sanctus, Dic mihi quomodo te tractauêre? Cui filius, vide me per charitatem: ostendit ei latus & manus & pedes perforatas. Heu mihi, sed vadam in aliam effigiem, quod non audebunt me tangere. Qui descendit cum maximo strepitu. Fa∣ctus est repente de coelo sonus tanquam aduenientis, &c. See fol. 178. col. 1.

6 But let vs heare another discourse of the same Preacher, stuffed with farre greater and more incredible blasphemies, especially considering that the chiefest mystery of Christian religion is thereby prophaned. Fol. 229. col. 4. these be his words: Quamuis ab aterno Deus praedestinauerit, &c. (which because they are som∣what long & tedious, it shall suffice to translate them into English, abridging them in some places:) Though God (saith he) had decreed the incarnation of his Son, and the saluation of mankind from all eternitie; yet it was his wil and pleasure that it should be impetrated by our prayers, and the prayers of holy people: so that the

holy fathers euen with teares desired to see that day; and how great their desire was, the Scriptures declare. Now Adam, Enos, Enoch, Mathusalem, Lamech and Noe (who liued so long) seeing they could not obtaine the thing which they desired, resolued to send Ambassadours. First Esay, saying chap. 16. Lord send the Lambe the gouernour of the land (Agnum dominatorem terrae.) And chap. 45. You heauens send downe your deaw from aboue, &c. And in the 64. chapter, O that thou wouldest breake the heauens and come downe, and that the mountaines might melt at thy pre∣sence. After that, the Prophets send Moses, Exod. 4. Obsecro Domine, mitte quem mis∣surus es: that is, I beseech thee, O Lord, send him whom thou shouldest send: that is, thou hast sent me before for a particular deliuerance, now send for the generall deliue∣rance. After that, the Kings sent Dauid, who spake thus, Lord shew vs ••hy mercy, and giue vs thy sauing health. After all these came Aaron, sent by the Priests, who said, Lord bow the heauens and come downe. In the last place came the Church, which said, Stirre vp thy strength and come, O Lord lift vp thy selfe. The Patriarches seeing that these requests tooke no place, sent women. First Madame Eue went and spake thus, Thou hast condemned vs for our sinne, yet remember it not O God, but deliuer me out of this darke dungeon. To whom God answered, Eue thou hast sinned, and therefore art vnworthy my sonne should be sent into the world for thy sake. The second was Madame Sara, who said▪ O Lord helpe vs: to whom God answered, Thou art not worthy: for thou didst not beleeue that thou shouldst conceiue and beare a sonne. The third was Madame Rebecca, to whom God said, Thou shewedst thy selfe partiall betweene Iacob and Esau. The fourth was Madame Iudith, to whō God answered, Thou hast bin a murtherer. The fift was Queene Esther, to whom he said, Thou louedst vanitie too much, when thou deckedst thy selfe to please King Assuerus. At last they sent a maid of fourteene yeares of age, who with a de∣iect and shamefast countenance kneeled downe and said, I beseech thee (O my God) that my best beloued may come into his garden, that he may eate of his apples. (This gar∣den was the virgins womb.) Which when the sonne heard, he said vnto his father, O my father, I haue from my youth loued this maid, and haue laboured to haue her to my spouse. Wherupon God the Father presently calling the Angel Gabriel, said vnto him, Gabriel go quickly to Nazareth to Mary, and carry her these letters from me, and tell her that I haue chosen her to be my wife. Then said the Sonne, And tell her from me, that I haue chosen her to be my mother, and that I will be incarnate in her wombe; I will be her sonne, and she shall be my mother: Deliuer her this message. Then spake the holy Ghost, and said, I will dwell in her, and she shall be my Temple; Cary her this message from me. Then Gabriel coming to her▪ said, Aue gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Ab A (quod est sine) & Ve, culpa; immunis à triplici Ve. De quibus Apoc. 12. Ve, ve, ve, habitantibus in terra. Gratia plena. Hierony∣mus, Benè, Gratia plena, quod caeteris per partes, &c. At these words of the Angell she was sore troubled. Now she had three gentlewomen with her, Prudence, Virgini∣tie and Humilitie. And first she went to Prudence to haue her counsell, saying, O my loue, tell me your opinion, what I were best to do. Prudence answered, Mary, I consider that which is written in the 29. chap. of Ecclesiasticus, He that is hasty to giue credit is light minded. And therefore it is well said in the Gospell, that Mary mused in her selfe what maner of salutation that might be. Ecclesiasticus 32. Audi tacens, & pro reuerentia accedit tibi bona gratia. Giue eare and be still, and for thy good behauiour thou shalt be loued. The Angell seeing her thus troubled, said vnto her, Feare not Mary: why art thou afraid? After this she asked counsell of her se∣cond gentlewoman Virginitie, who said vnto her, Mary aske the Angell how

thou shalt conceiue: if he answer and say, By the seed of man; beate him away with a cudgell. O iuuenculae, quando vestri amatores nominant impudica, &c. How can this be, seeing I neuer knew man? The Angell answered, The holy Ghost shall come vpon thee, and the power of the most high shall ouershadow thee, and therefore, &c. And a lit∣tle after, There was a disputation who should worke this redemption, whether the Father, the Sonne, or the holy Ghost; and it was agreed that the Sonne should be the Redeemer. And the reason, &c.

7 And if it were possible for thee (gentle Reader) to haue so much patience, I would further desire thee to reade this other discourse of the same Preacher, that thou mayst see how he is like himselfe in all things, and how one blasphemy draw∣eth on another▪ For fol. 168. col. 4. he saith, Altercatio facta est, quis debebat ire ad matrem, nuntiare hanc resurrectionem: Adam dixit, mihi incumbit, &c. The mea∣ning of which words (as also of the rest which ensue touching the same argumēt) is this. It was debated amongst them, who should go to the blessed virgin Christs mother, to signifie her sonnes resurrection: Adam said, that it was his dutie to go; For (said he) I was the cause of the euill, and therfore I ought to be the cause of the contrary good. But Christ answered him, Thou wouldst (haply) tarry by the way to eate figs. Abel said that that office belonged to him: Christ answered, No verily; for thou mayst (perhaps) meet thy brother Cain by the way, who wil kil thee. Noah also offered himselfe, saying, that that honour was due to him: to whom Christ an∣swered, Surely thou shalt not go; for thou louest drinke too well. Iohn Baptist said, I will go: Nay said Christ, thou of all other shalt not go; for thy garment is but of haire. The theefe said, that that office belōged to him: but Christ reiected him; For (said he) thy legs are broken. In the end an Angell was sent, who began to chant it out in this sort, Regina coeli, laetare: Alleluiah▪ Resurrexit sicut dixit, Alleluiah. And straight after came Christ with al the Saints, and the Virgin, &c. There are also sun∣dry other blasphemous speeches as wel in this as in the rest of their iolly Preachers, (though principally in this:) but because those (which now come to my remem∣brance) are more tollerable, and for that I am not at leisure to seeke after others, I will content my selfe for this present with these aboue mentioned. The texts of Scripture I haue here alleadged, as they are to be found in the vulgar Latin Bible. But with what brazen-faced impudency they were wont to abuse them, shall be shewed hereafter.

8 And now I proceed to those who baspheme God indeed; which vice I said was proper to Church-men: where I aduertised the Reader, that I tooke the word blasphemy in a more generall acception then it is commonly taken, hauing res∣pect to the Greeke Etymology. For as he that vsurpes the Kings crowne (being but his vassall) or sets himselfe in the throne of the kingdome or chaire of estate, doth commit no lesse treason against the maiesty of the Prince, then he that vtte∣reth some contemptible speech derogating from his soueraignety, crowne and dignity: so (doubtles) he that arrogateth to himself diuine power in word or deed, may as properly be called a blasphemer of God. But forasmuch as the signification of the word hath not bin vsually stretched so farre, I wil not greatly stand to argue the case, whether it be lawful to vse it so or no: it shal suffice that I haue shewed vpō what ground I thus vsed it. But if any man shall think that it may more fitly be cal∣led high treason against the highest Maiestie, I will not greatly contend with him. Now I would here instance this with examples, but that they are so obuious and ordinary, highwayes so plaine, that a guide were needlesse. For, to say nothing of that man of sinne, who calling himselfe God on earth▪ causeth (as much as in him

lieth) as great homage to be done vnto him as vnto God: are not they (I beseech you) vsurpers of the honour proper onely to God, who take vpon them to conse∣crate, blesse and absolue? nay to open heauen to some, and shut it against others? Notwithstanding the world (we see) swarmeth with such vermine in all places where the Church of Rome hath lost nothing of her credite. And albeit this kind of blasphemy be peculiar to Church-men (as hath bin said) yet I am not ignorant that Princes also (who of their humane would make a diuine maiestie) may wel be inrolled in this register. But to shew how many wayes they offend in this kind, would be an argument no lesse odious then tedious, and chiefly for me, who by all meanes labour to make speedy dispatch of this present treatise.

CHAP. XXVI. How that as there are stranger sinnes committed at this day then euer before, so God inflicts stranger punishments vpon the authors and inuentors of them.

SAint Augustine among many his memorable sayings, hath one very notable and worthy so excellent an author, viz. that if God should openly punish euery sinne and transgression in this life, it would be thought he reserued no punishment for the last iudgement. On the other side, if he should not inflict open and exemplary punishment vpon some offenders, men wold not beleeue that there were a diuine prouidence. Therefore when we see any breake forth into hainous enormities, and yet to scape scot-free, (at leastwise for aught we know) we should call not onely our religion but our wits also into question, if we should hereupon inferre, that wicked men es∣cape the heauy hand of God, and that their sinnes remaine vnpunished. And ve∣rily I cannot but wonder what should be the reason that this point cannot sinke into the heads of Christians, considering the very heathē haue by the dim candle-light of naturall reason attained to this secret of Gods prouidence: as we may see in Plutarch, and in the greatest part of Poets, as namely in certaine verses alleadged by Iustin Martyr. Notwithstanding there is a further point to be marked, viz. that God doth not onely inflict outward or ciuill punishments vpon men, such as ma∣gistrates are wont to do▪ but reserueth some to himselfe which the bodily eye can∣not see, which he manifesteth when it seemeth good vnto him. These are the ex∣quisite torments and tortures which wicked men endure in their consciences, not for an houre or a day, but for many yeares together. Nay he suffereth oftentimes the worme of conscience to gnaw vpon them almost al their liues long. But if this punishment (may some say) be so secret and hid from the eye of man, how can we reason or speake thereof? Verily to omit infinite testimonies as well in sacred as prophane stories, this hell of conscience discouereth it selfe in sundry persons by his effects, as Physitions do diseases by their symptomes, though neuer so secret and couered ouer with neuer so faire a skin. And as great men in times past were more obnoxious and liable to such distresse of conscience (as stories record of sun∣dry tyrants:) so we see it verified at this day▪ in such as are aduanced to the highest honors, and set (as it were) on the top of fortunes wheele, after they once forget themselues: and how they are necessarily inforced by their continuall cariage and course of life to verifie the old saying, Needs must he feare many, whom many do feare▪

whereof we haue a very pregnant proofe and notable example of one in these dayes, who dealt with France for a time, as Diogenes did with his tub, when he rol∣led it, tumbled & tossed it, ouerturned it, and knocked out the head of it, or rather played at tennis with that kingdome and the King thereof. For what ioy (may we thinke) can he haue to liue (what shew soeuer he make) who feareth nothing more then armes, and yet hath nothing wherein he may put more confidence then in armes? who dare trust no liuing man, nor yet make shew that he distrusteth any? Whose feare, which lodgeth with him at home, accompanieth him also abroade? who is constrained to put no difference betweene friends and foes, but equally suspecteth all? In summe, who the more he thinks vpon the occasions of his feare, the more he hath cause to feare? May we not well thinke that such a man begin∣neth his hell in this world, in stead of enioying some small pleasure in the remain∣der of his life? Could a man haue desired of God a better reuenge for his Cre∣tismes, Catelinismes and Phalarismes, then this? But to come to other wicked men, who are not aduanced to so high a degree of honor, but are glad to crouch to such gallants: All men might haue taken notice (at leastwise heard) how the Lieutenant who was graced by a French Poet with the title of Radamanthus, and (who deser∣ued in a double respect to be called Lieutenant criminall) was seized vpon with a grieuous disease (as I heard it reported by the Colledge of Phisitions which had him in cure,) during which sicknesse he had such a serious consideration of his life past, that he lay a long time before any man could perswade him but that he was condemned to be hanged. Alas (said he) I know I haue deserued death: for I haue committed such and such extortion: I had a hand in such and such rapine: I suffe∣red my selfe to be bribed and corrupted by malefactors, to the end they might es∣cape and go vnpunished: I haue too roughly and rigorously intreated poore inno∣cents: to be short, I haue made merchandize of my cōscience euery way. And not cōtent to houer thus in generalities, he came in particular, to name those of whose death he thought himselfe guilty, and to ask them forgiuenesse. At last he remem∣bred that the King had often shewed mercy on malefactors, and thereupon con∣ceiuing some wanne hope, he was euer harping vpon that string. Now albeit they laboured to confirme him in this conceiued hope of pardon, yet he no sooner con∣sidered the hainousnesse of his offences, but he was straight driuen from his hold againe, and said, that if the King should once know them, he would neuer pardon him. And in feare of this accursed death (whereunto he thought they were ready to leade him) had this poore patient died, had it not bin for one of his Phisitions who caused a man to come booted and spurred with letters patents in his hand, and to knocke boldly at the doore, and as soone as he was let in, to cry pardon, pardon: which was accordingly performed, yet not without putting him (poore soule) in danger of his life; for hauing heard him knocke in that maner at the gate, he perswaded himselfe that it was the hangman. And though the party suborned knew well enough how to play his part, yet could he scarce make him beleeue that the King had pardoned him. But being brought in the end to beleeue it, & so to pluck vp a good heart, he liued some few daies after. Howbeit ere long he chan∣ged this miserable life into a more miserable death, as we shall heare in the se∣quel of this discourse. In the meane time let the Reader consider in what misery he must of necessity be, who was thus assaulted of his conscience. For then doubt∣lesse by reason of his disease which distempered his braine and intoxicated his vn∣derstanding, he shewed himselfe to be the man which in truth he was. And we may well think that the Chancelour of France felt no lesse conflict in conscience,

when lying on his death bed he cryed out, Ah Cardinall, thou hast sent vs all to the Diuell.

2 But I passe from this secret punishment (which we may assure our selues hath seazed vpon many) to that which we see dayly before our eyes. First then, the holy Scripture teacheth vs to acknowledge the hand of God in warres, pestilence and famine, executing his iust iudgements vpon vs for our sinnes. Whereof the preachers (before alleadged) haue not bene vnmindfull to admonish vs. As when Menot saith, Quae est causa quod ••ames toties regnat super terram, nisi peccata & iniqui∣tates enormes quae nunc regnant? And Barelete, Nonne vidisti temporibus clapsis, Itali∣am peste percussam? Verè hoc totum propter peccata inaudita hominum & multerū. Fur∣ther, Menot saith of blasphemers in particular, that God sends them a red rose of Naples. Now then if such punishments be sure and certen testimoners of sinnes raigning in the world, and that they haue increased euen in these dayes: we may hereupon conclude, that sinne is likewise much increased. Howebeit, my purpose is not to insist vpon these ordinarie chastisements, but rather to shew (as the title of this chapter occasioneth me) that as our Age aboundeth with more rare villanies then euer were knowne or heard of in former time: So God inflicts farre stranger punishments vpon men for the same. For proofe herof, how many new & strange diseases are there at this day raging in all places? And surely great reason there is, that as men are not content with the sinnes of their ancestors, but adde new to the old: so God in like manner should not content himselfe with ordinary punish∣ments, but should adde vnto them extraordinary plagues. As he hath punished whoredome of late with that disease which the Frenchmen call the Neapolitane disease, they of Naples and other Italians, the French disease: But such hath bin the frowardnesse of the wicked will of man, that that which should haue bene as a bri∣dle to curbe and keepe him in, hath bene as a spur to prick him forward, especially since there were remedies to cure such maladies. And now the report goeth, that there is a new kind of French poxe, the Quintessence (as it were) of the former, which is simply incurable; which if it be so, we may assure our selues, God would therby teach vs how dangerous a thing it is to harden our hearts against his heauy hand. And may we not well thinke these so many strange maladies (in which Phy∣sitions are not onely put to their trumps, but euen at a non plus) such and so many fearefull iudgements which God inflicts vpon the meaner sort by the mighty: and vpon great potentates by poore paysants: so many sundry sorts of death more so∣daine and fearefull, yea and often accompanied with greater despaire and rage thē our Ancestors euer saw or heard of, to be new chastisements or rather punish∣ments sent of God? Yes doubtlesse, whereof we might find sundry examples if we would but open our eyes to behold such spectacles, as often as they offer them∣selues to our viewe. I haue heretofore shewed (where I spake of such as made a∣way themselues) how Bonauenture de Periers (author of that detestable booke cal∣led Cymbalum mundi) notwithstanding the pains that his friends tooke in keeping and watching him (for that they saw him in a desperate moode,) was found to haue run vpon his sword, hauing set the pomell to the ground, the point running in at his breast, and out at his backe. I haue further spoken of a secretary of a towne of Switzerland, who pressed with a sence & feeling of his wicked life (hauing made a scape from his keepers) cast himselfe (with Razes) from a high rocke and so dyed; since which time sūdry like stories haue come to my mind. But to omit those who by Gods iust iudgement haue bene their owne executioners; certen it is that there are many who dye in their beds, in no lesse despaire & rage then they: who doubt∣lesse,

would haue made the like end, if there had not bene a narrow watch set ouer them. The number of which would be found to be great if enquiry were made. But I will here onely speake of certain persecutors, who in the end haue bene pur∣sued (as I may say) and persecuted by the iust iudgement of God, and that vpon the open stage (as it were) in the view of the world. And I will beginne with the Lieutenant Criminall (mentioned in the beginning of this chapter) who be∣ing recouered of a dangerous disease wherein he had bene sore troubled in con∣science, was shortly after striken with another in his legs (called the wolfe) in such sort that he lost the vse of his limmes, and dyed in the end be••traught of his wits, after he had a long time barked (as it were) at God, as the dogge at the Moone, ha∣uing nothing in his mouth but wounds, blood, and blasphemy. The Chancellor and Legate du Prat made no fairer market, notwithstanding his braue hospitall (of which king Francis the first was wont to say, that it was not large enough to lodge so many poore people as he had impouerished. For he died at his Honor of Nan∣touillet, of a strange disease hauing his stomacke eaten thorow with wormes, not without fearefull cursing of God through extreame impatience, occasioned as∣well by extremitie of paine, as through spite and anger to see all his coffers sealed vp before his face: so that he could not refrain but breake forth into these words: See what is gotten by seruing the king with body and soule? This du Prat was the first that put vp a bil in the court of parliament for the detection of heresies, because (as he said) they were full of blasphemy; who also being wearied with that long and tedious suite in the cause of Berquin, gaue out the first commission for the exami∣nation, arraignement and condemnation of such as should speake against the Ro∣mane religion. And what befell the now deceassed Steuen Poncher Archbishop of Towres, whilst he laboured for the erecting of a new court, called the burning chamber? was he not seazed vpon by a feareful disease called Le feu de Dieu, which began at his heeles, and crept along to his head, so that he was constrained to cut off one limme after another, and in the end dyed miserably, vsing no better lan∣guage then his fellowes? The like befell one Iohn Ruzé counsellour of the Parlia∣ment; who was one of the greatest burners in his time (I mean one that raised the hottest persecutiō against the professors of the Gospel, that they might be brought to the stake) For as he returned from a court which he had kept against them, he was taken with the aforesaid disease in his stomacke and priuie parts, so that he had much ado to get home: the extremity whereof was such, that hauing in a manner burnt vp his entrals, it caused him to end his daies in great misery, the rather for that he did not once acknowledge the iust iudgement of God. And as the ven∣geāce of God was speedily executed vpō him, so was it also vpō another counsel∣lour of the same court called Claudius des Asses; for the very same day that he had sē∣tenced a Protestant to fry a fagot, as he was playing the knaue with one of his chā∣bermaids, he was taken with an Apoplexie in the fact, and so dyed. Likewise one Iohn Andrew, a Stationer (who serued these persecutors and their complices, for a spy) as he was walking for his recreation, was taken with a frenzie which neuer left him to the houre of his deth, which followed shortly after. We reade also of strāge iudgements which befell those that were the chiefe agents in the persecution rai∣sed against the poore people of Cabriere and Merindoll; by all which we learne, that those who escape the hands of men, ought alwaies to remember the old Prouerb, He is not escaped that traileth his halter. For verily such wretches (though quit and cleared by earthly Iudges) if we respect diuine Iustice, draw their halters after thē, not onely in this life, but after death also. Which I speake aswell in regard of Iohn

Menier Lord of Oppede, as of others, who were so sentenced for extortion, pilling and polling, spoiling and sacking, violence, and all manner of barbarous and sa∣uadge cruelties which they exercised vpō the inhabitants of those places, contrary to their oathes and promises, and the trust reposed in them; that whereas it was ex∣pected that after so many notable pleas & orations in which their knaueries were excellently displaied and laid forth (as it were) in orient colours, such exemplary punishment should haue bene shewed on them, as might remaine a memorial and perpetuall president to posterity: It appeared in the end, that all was nothing but a faire florish for fashion sake. Now albeit they escaped the punishment which Iu∣stice allotted them, through the iniustice of men: yet escaped they not the hand of the Iust Iudge, as hath bene said. Menier and the rest of that rout felt it very feare∣fully, by a strangury and a disease called Le feu de Dieu, which burnt him from the nauel vpward: which grieuous diseases he bare so patiently, that frō the time they seazed vpon him till the last gaspe, he ceased no to blaspheme and curse his creator; little remembring the examples of many holy Saints and seruants of God whom he had heard singing Halleluiah in the midst of their torments, euen then when he most cruelly butchered them. Neither is there any maruail to be made of this difference, considering hee suffered as a fellon and a murtherer, they as Mar∣tyrs. But to omit these cruell cutthroates of the Popish Clergie, who persecuted the poore Protestants of Prouence before the Lord of Oppede came amongst them; there was a Iacobin Frier called de Roma (of whose cruelties I haue spoken some∣what before) who felt the beauy hand of God as well as his fellowes: for vnder colour of his commission (being one of the holy Inquisition) he tyrānized as well ouer the bodies as the goods of those whom he had found to swarue from the Church of Rome, and withdrawing himselfe to Auinion, intended to make merry with the prey and pillage he had brought out of Prouence. But the polling extorti∣oner was spoiled of all that he had by his owne seruants, and brought to extreme beggery: and shortly after fell into a fearfull disease vnknowne to the Physitions which bred vlcers in sundry places of his body so full of crawling wormes that his flesh fell away by peacemeale, stinking so intollerably that no man (no nor yet himself) could endure the smell therof. In the end it grew to that extremity that he desired some man would kil him; and perceiuing that al was but in vain, he offered to lay violent hands vpon himselfe, but finding not how he might put his wicked purpose in execution, he was cōstrained to vndergo his torments vnto the end; not without many outcries or rather howlings, accompanied with cursing & blasphe∣ming the name of God: the common and ordinary refuge for such wicked wret∣ches when they feele themselues ouerwhelmed with dolor and greefe. And here another story comes fitly to my mind, of one who is not wont to be forgotten, when we speake of the iudgements of God, to wit, Petrus Castellanus, in whom we haue as notable an example of diuine Iustice as in any whosoeuer. For hauing bin a zealous professor of the Gospell, in the raigne of king Francis the first, in such sort that he incurred the ill will of the Sorbonists (which he then litle respected, by rea∣son of the great fauour he was in with the foresaid Prince) he turned coate in the raigne of king Henrie the second, because he saw the professors of the Gospell had no countenance in the court: in such sort that a man would little haue thought it had bene he which professed true religion before; and not content to temporize and turne like the wether cocke with euery waft of contrary wind, he went to Or∣leans (hauing bene newly installed Bishop of that See) to preach against the religi∣on which before he had professed: whither being come, he gaue them two or three

strawbery sermons. And as he was on a time belching out his blasphemies against the truth and his owne conscience, he was taken suddenly with a disease, which made his Lordship come downe after another manner then he went vp. The re∣port goes, that one halfe of his body was as hot as fire, and the other halfe as cold as ice, ioyned with a bloudy flixe, whereof he died not long after, not without ma∣ny throbs and fearfull grones. I am here to intreat thee (gentle Reader) not to take offence that I point out some men in particular, and describe them by their names, contrary to the course I haue taken almost throughout this whole treatise; desiring thee to remember that I am not the first that haue broken the ice, seeing I deliuer these things but at the second hand, as I find them set downe in three seueral books lately published. I shall further desire thee to consider, that such stories as these, seruing so notably to set forth the iust iudgements of God, ought authentically to be recorded. Notwithstanding I wil spare the naming of two others, for that I find them no where named. One of which (I take it) is yet liuing, who albeit he made profession of the Gospell at the first, yet after he had courted it a while, he did so turne and temporize, so apply and accōmodate himself to the fancies, fashions and humors of the Court, that like Hercules enthralled to Queene Omphale, or Sampson besotted with his Dalila, he was so lulled asleepe in his mistris lap, that he quite lost his former credit & reputatiō: so that he that had heard him, wold litle haue thoght he had bene the man whom God had endued with such exact knowledge in the tongues and arts, that since that time his match could hardly be found. The second is of one who had bene Counseller to the French king Henry the second, and em∣ployed by him in sundry Embassages; who giuing a finall farewell to the truth which formerly he had professed (fearing lest it would lie as a blocke in the way to his preferment) lost forthwith his sense and vnderstanding, in such sort that he became a meer sot and a senslesse thing. And we haue had within these few yeares such rare examples of Gods iudgements euen vpon Princes themselues, and of so late and fresh memory that they cannot easily be forgotten, and therfore I spare to name particulars.

3 Now the reason which moued me to alleadge such examples of the iudge∣ments of God as haue befallen persecutors rather then others, is for that such per∣secution is proper and peculiar to these dayes and times: wherein crueltie and all kind of impietie like a great deluge haue broken the bankes, and ouerflowed in more fearfull maner then euer before: whereof we haue seene what hath bene the issue and euent, and God grant that it may be both the begin∣ning and the end of all such tragedies and tur∣bulent garboiles.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Kisse her, or, kisse it.
• * 1.2

  At bed and boord.
• * 1.3

  At rack and manger.
• * 1.4

  Al Sake••.
• * 1.5

  Accipit••••.
• * 1.6

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.7

  Castalions Auant-peau is as absurd in French, as the Remists prepuce is in English.
• * 1.8

  They change the aire that seas do passe, But mind re∣maines the same it was.
• * 1.9

  Buskins pro∣perly.
• * 1.10

  See the end of this section
• * 1.11

  A stolen child, word for word, or begotten by stealth.
• * 1.12

  An exile, or banished man
• * 1.13

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 Syracuse.
• * 1.14

  He aequiuo∣cateth in the word courone, which signifi∣eth as well a shauen crown as a crowne in gold. His meaning was that he had a 100. crownes to giue for his pardon: But he wold haue the people vnderstand as though he had sp••ken of his shauen crowne, viz. that he had primam tonsu∣ram at the lest and therfore that he was in danger of Law, in going about to hang a clergy man, who was ex∣empt from the power of the Ciuil ma∣gistrate. See chap. 40. ••ect. 5.
• * 1.15

  Al. A••scot.
• * 1.16

  Al. of S. Se∣uerin.
• * 1.17

  The word signifies ei∣ther a cappet or a hatter, or a haberda∣sher of hats and caps.
• * 1.18

  The Popish Cleargie.
• * 1.19

  They for he, and so in that which follo∣weth.
• * 1.20

  The French word signifies murther, and therefore I haue kept the propriety of the word: for otherwise it should be called man∣slaughter ra∣ther then murther.
• * 1.21

  A staffe of eight verses.
• * 3.1

  My dish of meate, ••••••∣lic••.
• * 3.2

  Popes.