SEVEN DIALOGVES BOTH PITHIE and profitable.

The

  • 1 Is of the right vse of things indifferent.
  • 2 Sheweth what comfort Poperie affordeth in time of daunger.
  • 3 Is betweene a good Woman and a Shrew.
  • 4 Is of the conversion of a Harlot.
  • 5 Is of putting forth Children to Nurse.
  • 6 Is of a Popish Pilgrimage.
  • 7 Is of a Popish Funerall.

By W. B.

LONDON. Printed for Nicholas Ling, and are to bee sold at his shop in Saint Dunstans Church-yard in Fleet-streete. 1606.

¶ To the Right Worshipfull, the Maior, Shiriffes and Aldermen, together with all that vnfainedly feare God, and sincerely loue the truth, in that religious and fa­mous Citie of Norwich, W. B. wisheth all out­ward prosperitie, with increase of hea­uenly grace in this life, and eter­nall felicity in the life to come.

RIght Worshipfull, Fathers, and Brethren, as Elisha said2. King 4. 13. vnto the Shunamite (who prouided a chamber for the Prophet) Behold, thou hast had all this care for vs, but what shall we doe for thee? So may I truely say. The Citie of Norwich hath beene very carefull for me, and ex­ceeding kinde vnto mee sometime an vnworthy Minister of Christ amongst them, but what shall I doe for them, wherby to shew my selfe thainkefull for their loue? fiue yeares it was my blessed hap (through the goodnesse of God) to reape the benefit of two very reverend & godly persons then your Citie Preachers,M. Moore. M. Roberts. and now Cittizens of Heauen, (whose memorie is blessed of all that knew them, and must of me be euer honored as my Fathers in the Lord, and with them also I inioyed the labours of many learned and godly persons besides, which made your Citie like Bethel and Iericho, which mainetained2. King. 2. the Schooles of Prophets amongst them. Oh the heauenly harmony and sweete amitie that then was amongest you from the highest to the lowest! The magistrates and the Ministers imbracing and seconding one an other, and the common people affording due reverence, & obedience to [Page] them both. No matters of weight were vsually concluded in your common assemblies for the good of your Citie, be­fore you had first consulted with your graue and godlie Preachers. It was Dauids ioy, to see the people goe vnto the house of the Lorde. And whose heart was not filled with ioy, to see in Norwich the continuall resorte that was eue­ry day through the yeare, and that for many yeers togither vnto the holy exercises of Religion, which were conti­nually supported by woorthy and sincere Preachers, and graced by the presence of so many graue and Religious Magistrates? And so great a meeting of learned, godly, and faithfull Pastors; aboue twenty together, of good account haue I seene vsually frequenting the holy exercises, and all hauing pastorall charges in the Cittie, besides those of the Cathedrall Church. And all these were of one heart, and one minde, all as brethren imbracing most louingly each other from the heart, boldely conuersing, and freely re­ioycing one with another, no man suspecting each other. Such was their care and vigilancie, yea, and such was their grauitie and modestie, yea such was their grace and humillitie, and such was their charitie, and fidelitie; but especially so well were things managed by the wisdome & moderation of those two worthies before mentioned, who were still amongst the rest as presidents, or leaders of an ar­mie, that it was not possible for any iarre or contention to be of any longer continuance then a sparke of fire produ­ced by the violent stroke of the steele and flint, of which a man might truly say, Oritur moritur, if any were kindled with one word, the next word quencheth it againe; their heauenly doctrines were greedily receiued of you for the truthes sake, and themselues were alwaies welcome vnto you for their doctrine sake, but whether of their doctrines or their persons were in greater price with you, it is hard for me to say. Being inuited to your houses (as daily they were by one or other) they were seldome or neuer dis-ioyned, but whither some went, all went: none were excluded, to shew that you had not the word in respect of persons, but all were imbraced alike, that all might receiue incourage­ment [Page] alike in the worke of the Lord: in which course of yours, whether your aboundant loue, or christian wisedom ought to haue the preheminence, I know not: passing sweet was the one, and exceeding pleasant was the other, yea gra­cious & admirable were you in both chargeable: I confesse it was vnto you, yet such was the loue you bare to those, whose feet brought you the glad tidings of peace, that you counted nothing too deare for them. I write not thus to flatter you: the Searcher of hearts wil witnesse for me, that I speak the truth & lie not, my conscience tels me that I shuld do you open wrong, if I should not acknowlege the City of Norwich to haue been alwaies as kind and louing to their Preachers, as they haue beene famous for their gouerne­ment. In all, let God haue the glorie. As for my selfe, (the most vnworthy of all) I must acknowledge my selfe by ma­ny bands of loue to be tied vnto you, but espetially, for that in my troubles which befell me about matters of my Mini­strie (though long since, yet neuer to be forgotten) it pleased you for the most part in your own persons as occasion ser­ued, but espetially in the person of a most worthy Senator, then your chiefe magistrate (and now also a glorious citizen of heauen, to stand forth in the face of all the world for my iust defense, as also afterward when all meanes fayled, to extend your inlarged harts to the vtmost of your power for my maintenance. Abounding was your loue before, but thē it superabounded, and by the chearfull working therof it appeared to all the world, that your faith was not dead nor barren, but like Dauids blessed tree, planted by the riuers of celestiall waters, which bringeth forth his fruite in due season, without either fading or fall of the leafe; so farre were you from driuing me away (as it hath pleased Enuie to remour it home euen to the place where I dwell) that I must needs confesse, that you did labour to the vtmost of your skill, to haue kept me still amongst you, and no lesse was the care for the rest of my brethren, & fellow laborers, who being in the fame predicament with my selfe, were also inforced (through the indisposition of those times) to re­moue their tents from amongst you, to the general griefe of [Page] themselues, and the most parte of your Citie, and to place them elsewhere, vpon those aggrauated rumours posted after me by the malignant messengers of the enuious man, it hath bin my happc (God purposing for my good I trust to haue it so) to be not alittle sifted in this countrey, where it hath pleased the Lord of his goodnesse to place mee: to which end, there hath beene also posting from hence vnto you for coppies of records and I wote not what, assuring themselues, that from thense would come such shot that would batter downe my hold, and make me quite to giue ouer; and no lesse in boasting manner most confidently they gaue out amongst themsel [...]es. But God be thanked, who suffered them like deluded soules, no lesse foolish then malitiously to triumph before the victorie: and my feare is, that those men which traueled so far, and searched so neare, and were at such cost and raked (as it were) so many backe­sides, and troubled both themselues, and others, and all for the finding, and reuiewing of an old rotten coffin (so many yeares since buried with a blocks end in it, sor want of a bet­ter co [...]se) haue receiued the most hurt themselues: for some of them (besides the forfiture of their credit which they pawned vpon the bargaine) haue prooued since that, like cloth that shrinkes in the wetting, and hauing borrowed till no man will trust them, are glad to liue where no man doth know them, shifting for themselues tanquam indiuidua vaga, which are vix demonstratiua in their owne countrey, wherof I take no pleasure at all, for I haue alwaies wished them more good then they doe themselues: and I hope, the rest of their confederates will make good vse of their fel­lowes falls. But as for you, right Worshipfull, and in the Lord intirely beloued, your hearts, and hands haue euer bin free from such kinde of practises, and blessed be God that hath euer kept you from casting in your lot amongst them, whose deuising hath bin still to spreade nets for the innocent and simple man: and as the remembrance of your antient loue doth much reioyce me; so is my ioy much more increased, through the constant continuance of your loue, which by many signes and tokens, did most plentifully ap­peare, [Page] when (after many yeares discontinuance) it pleased the Lord of his goodnesse, to bring mee amongst you a­gaine. And now, beloued in the Lord, what remaineth, but that you continue your antient & holy courses, that so the fame of your faith, loue, and zeale, which is spread farre and neare, may increase yet more and more, to your euer­lasting commendation. And if you haue still the holy as­semblies and sacred exercises of religion continued a­mongst you, as I hope you haue, I beseeeh you be thank­full vnto God for them, and make your best vse of them while you may. And you that be the worthy Senatours and gouernours of that Citie, let me intreate you to follow the good example of your predecessours, grace the holy assemblies with your presence, and goe before the people to Gods house, as Dauid did in fetching home the Arke; incourage your Pastors and Preachers still, and shew forth the power of religion in your holy conversation and good gouernment, as you haue done. And my good brethren which be of the ministerie in that Citie, if I haue found grace in your eyes, and may be counted worthy to aduise you in the Lord, be you all of one heart and of one minde in the Lord. And I beseech you forget not the holy coun­sell, which one of your antient Fathers and Pastours wasM. Moore. wont oftentimes to put you in minde of; though there may be some difference in opinion, about matters of circum­stance and lesse weight, yet let there be no difference in brotherly affection, but loue one another in the Lord from the heart, remembring that of the Apostle: If any be other­wise minded, God shall reueale it vnto him in his good time: and let none be too forward in rushing into the heart and conscience of his brother, for that is (as you know) Gods prerogatiue, but rather imitate the Lord himselfe, who said; if Solomon did sinne against him, he would visite2. Sam 7. him with the roddes of the children of men: but yet his lo­uing kindnesse and mercy, he would not take from him. So, though there may perhappes arise some hote disputes a­mongst you, about this or that, and in heate, you may per­chance sometimes strike too hard, and make the sparkles [Page] [...]ie too fast; yea, cause may be giuen sometime to reprehend one another roundly, as Paul did Peter, yet let charitie & lo­uing kindnes neuer depart frō amongst you, & the God of peace shall blesse you as he hath done, to the wonder of the world. I know you are already established in the present truth, and therefore neede none of my instructions: yet, for somuch as sound faith hath neede of a strengthning, and a pure minde, of a stirring vp, and a wearie heart, of a war­ming, I beare my selfe somewhat bold vpon your Christi­an patience, to write thus vnto you as I doe. And now (right Worshipful, and the rest of your Citie beloued in the Lord) for a testimonie of a heart that would be thankfull, if my velle & posse, would be sutable the one to the other, I doe heere offer vnto your Christian consideration, & curteous patronage, these Dialogues, which I haue at times, for my owne recreation, translated out of Latine into english. And because they containe varietie of matters, therefore I dedi­cate them to your whole Citie, which also comprehendeth varietie of wits and dispositions. I trust you will accept them in good part, as you alwaies haue done my selfe, and all my poore and slender indeuoures in former times: which if you doe, you shall incourage me to labour heere­after, in arguments of greater moment, if greater may be. In the meane time, I commend you to the grace of God. And as I haue you alwaies in remembrance in all my prayers, so I beseech you, forget not mee in yours, nor the whole Church of Christ, that so the communion of Saints, may not sound onely in our lippes, but may bee pow­erfull in our hearts, and fruitfull one towardes another, vntill wee shall all fully inioy that blessed fellowshippe of the Saints, which the Lord Iesus Christ, our head and blessed Redeemer, hath purchased with his blood, and re­serued for vs in the heauens, Amen.

Your seruant for the Lord Iesus, William Burton.

To the Christian Reader.

GOod Reader, here I exhibite vnto thy view, cer­taine Dialogues, compiled first in Latine by that famous man Erasmus, and now by mee translated into English, for the generall good of our Church and Common-wealth: not absque delectu, or hand ouer head (as they say) haue I gathered them, but according to the Apostles rule, I haue tried all, and cho­sen the best. If thou wilt but enter into them, thou shalt find so delightfull and fruitfull a walke, that thou wilt hard­ly retire vntill thou hast gone through. They are full of doc­trines, both sound and substantiall. Repleate they are with sen­t [...]nces, not prettie, but pithie, and garnished they are with si­milies and examples, both wittie and weighty. Of Philoso­phie both naturall and supernaturall, thou shalt finde there great plentie. Of learning both diuine and humane, thou shalt haue thy fill: Both pleasure and profite will entertaine thee at thy entrance, and recompence abundantly thy trauell all the way thou goest. What should I say more? Good wine needes no Iuy bush, and Erasmus, hath no need of my commendations. To the learned and iudicious, yea generally to all men, he is so wel knowne for his deepe learning, and profound iudgement: that for the entertainment of th [...]se his conferences, I needed not but only to haue said Erasmus wrote them. For the mat­ter or subiect of them, I refer thee to heir seuer all titles: Only thus much I thought good to make knowne vnto thee, that [Page] he fifi Dialogue, which is of a woman in Childbed, is especi­ally [...]tended against the monstrous and vnnaturall expo­sing of children to nurses by wanton women, and such as ha­uing dame Nature most beneficiall vnto them, doe yet shew themselues both [...] Dames, [...] most cruell mothers to their tender infant, whereby many sweete babes, which might haue liued, and done good ser [...]ice, both to God and their Prince, to the Church & Common-wealth are now made a­way, yea, cast away by an vntimely death, hasted by the vn­naturall dealing of Mothers, and Nurse [...]. And many, though th [...]y liue, yet are marred in the handling, and caused to [...] out of kind, by the vnkinde prouision that is made for them, (poore babes) betweene the nice wanton mother, and the vn­conscionable greedie nurse. Of men that come to their end by vntimely death, the saying is, that Plures periere crapula quam gladio: surffeting killes more then the sword, which I thinke to be true. But of children that come to their end by vntimely death, I suppose I may (and that not vnprobably) say, that more haue miscaried in the nursing, then otherwise, as shall further appeare by the reasons of this reuerend and learned Authour. And for further confirmation thereof, marke what I shall tell thee. Not yet a yeare since, it was my happe (being in London) to be present at s [...]pper in a Mer­chants house, where this matter of putting forth children to nurse, was debated, Pro & contra, (as they say.) There was then in presence an ancient graue Matrone, and a midwife, who openly protested, that she knew a Nurse, that had taken (for greedinesse of gaine) three seuerall women children to nurse at one instant, and they were not of the meanest sor [...] neither: and her manner was to goe forth in the morning, and come no more in againe till night, but to leaue the poore tender Infants in the Cradle togither without any companie or comfort, which within a short space by continuall crying [Page] and beating themselues one against another for want of food, ended their miserable and wofull dayes: a thing able to break a heart of flint. This midwife being demaunded whether she spake this vpō hearesay or no, did protest that she was an eie witnesse thereof her selfe, and saw them all three laid forth vpon a boord together. The hearing whereof caused some wa­try eyes, and bitter sighs. This cruell murtherer answered the Law, but she could not giue the poore Infants their innocent blood againe. When thou hast aduisedly read th [...], learned Dialogue, [...] [...] [...] [...], [...] [...] [...]. If by my publishing hereof, but one Infant in the world may be pre­serued, or be the better educated, my [...] [...] [...] [...] ­ly [...]. In the rest of the [...], [...] [...] perceiue how little [...] the Papists [...] [...] [...] [...] Erasmus, as a m [...]n of their side. [...] [...], and reape [...], and [...] [...] [...] thy prayers.

Thine in [...] the Lord Iesus [...] William Burton.

The Printer to the Reader.

COurteous Reader, there haue in this impression some faults escaped, whereof I must acquite the Author, and pleade thy pardon for my selfe, he be­ing both absent, and vnacquainted with the sodaine publication of his booke: and I, sometimes mis-led by doubt and difficulty of the copie. The number and moment of them is not so great, but I hope thy kindenesse will be greater, in giuing what thy selfe (as being a man) doost somtimes neede, excuse of errors.

❧ A dialogue of Fish-eating, both pleasant and profitable, wherein are many excellent poyntes of Divinitie discussed, but chiefly that of the right vse of thyngs indifferent, very necessary for these times.

The Speakers are onely two.
  • 1 Lanio, that is, a Butcher.
  • 2 Salsamentarius, that is, a Fishmonger.
Butcher.

HOw now lusty Fishmonger? haue you yet bought you a rope?

Fishmonger

A rope Butcher, what to doe?

Bu.

What to do? to go hang thy selfe.

Fish.

Why man, I am not yet weary of my life.

But.

But you will be ere it be long.

Fish.

Why Butcher, what is the matter?

But.

If you knowe not, I wil tell you. There is com­ming towards you, a very Saguntine famine (as they cal it) that will make you euen goe hang your selues.

Fish.

Good wordes Butcher, let this come to our enne­mies: how commeth it about, that of a Butcher you are so sodainely become a diuiner of such great calamitie?

But.

It is no diuination, doe not flatter your selfe, the [Page] matter is euident, and the thing it selfe is already in the open market place.

Fish.

You trouble my minde much, fhew it mée if you haue any thing.

But.

I will shew it you to your great griefe: There is of late come forth an edict from Rome, that from henceforth it shal be lawful for euery man to eate what he list. And wat then remayneth to you and your order, but an insati­able hunger with your rotten salt fish?

Fish.

For my part, I care not if any man do list to eate snailes or netles, let him: but is any man forbidden to eate fish?

But.

No, but there is libertie graunted to all men, to eate flesh that will.

Fish.

If this be all, then goe thou and hang thy selfe: for I hope to gayne more héereafter than euer I haue done.

But.

Yea, great comming in, but hunger to the full: or if you had rather heare more merry newes, henceforth you shall liue more cleanely, neither shall you vse to wipe your snotty nose, which is euer itching with scabbes vpon your arme, as you were wont to doe.

Fish.

Ha, ha: now we be come to the toppe: the blinde reproacheth the one-eyed, I would it were true that you tell me, but I am afraide you doe but féede me with a false ioy.

But.

That which I tel you is too true, but whereupon do you promise to your selfe greater gaine?

Fish.

Because that the world is come to that passe, that looke what is most forbidden, that men do most of all de­sire.

But.

And what of that?

Fish.

Because more will abstaine from eating of flesh, when there is libertie giu [...]n to eate it, neither will it be counted a daintie banquet indeede, where there is no fish, as the manner hath béene amongst our forefathers: there­fore I am glad that the eating of flesh is permitted, and I would also that the eating of fish were forbidden, for then [Page] [...]ould men more gladly buy it then now they do.

But.

Surely a goodly wi [...].

Fish.

This I could wish, if I respected nothing but the gaine of money, as you do, for the loue whereof you haue deuoted your grosse flesh deuouring bodie to the infernall spirites.

But.

You should séeme to be all salt, by your vnsauorie spéech.

Fish.

What hath mooued the Romaines to release men from that lawe which res [...]rained flesh eating, and hath bin obserued so many ages?

Butcher

They thinke (as the truth is indéede) that by Fishmongers the cittie is polluted, the earth, the ayre, the waters, and the fire are infected, and the bodies of men areDiscommo­dities of fish­eati [...]g. corrupted, for by eating of fish the body is filled with rot­ten humors, and from hence procéede feuers, consumpti­ons, gowtes, the falling sickenesse, leaprousies, and what not?

Fish.

Tell me then (maister Hippocrates) why in good gouerned Citties it is forbidden to kill bulles and swine within the walles? And it were more for the health of the Cittizens, if there might be no cattell killed within the walles. Why haue Butchers a certayne place allotted them to dwell in, for feare that if they should dwell euery where, they would soone infect the whole Citty with the plague? Is there any kinde of stinch more pestilent than the corrupted blood and dregges of beasts and other liuing things?

But.

These things be very swéete spices, if they be com­pared with the rotten sauor of fish.

Fish.

To you I thinke they be méere spices, but not to the Magistrates which haue remooued you from the Cit­tie. And howe swéetely your slaughter houses doe smell, let them declare that passe by them, holding their noses: yea aske the common people, who had rather haue tenne bawdes dwell by them then one Butcher.

But.

But neither pondes nor whole riuers will suffice [Page] to wash your rotten salt fish: and it is truely said, that you spend water in vaine, for a fish alwayes smelleth like fish, though you should besméere it with swéet oyntments. And no maruel though they smel so when they are dead, for the most of them do smel so soone as they are taken. Flesh bée­ing powdred in brine may be kept very swéet many yéeres together, and common salt wil preserue it from smelling: being dried in the smoake and the wind, it gathereth no ill sauour. If you should do al this vnto fish, yet it would sa­uour stil like fish. By this alone you may coniecture, that there is no rotten sauor to be compared vnto that fish ma­keth. And fish corrupteth and putrifieth the very salt it selfe, whose nature is to preserue things from putrefaction, whi­lest by his natural force it both shutteth and bindeth, and also excludeth and kéepeth out whatsoeuer might hurt out­wardly, and drieth vp inwardly whatsoeuer might putrify the humors. In fishes onely salt is not salt. Some dainty or delicate person perhaps doth hold their nose when they goe by our sla [...]ghter houses, but no man can abide in the boate where your salt fish lieth. If vpon the way any tra­uelers chaunce to méete your cartes loaden with your salt fish, what running is there til they be past it? What hold­ing of noses, spitting, and coughing? And, if it were possi­ble, that pure salt fish could be brought into the citie, as we doe the flesh of beasts that we kil, yet the Lawe would not sléepe: but no [...] what shal be done to those that ore rotten before they be sp [...]nt? And yet how often doe wée sée your damned marchandise taken by the Clarke of the Market, and cast into the riuer, and your [...] fined for bringing such stuffe to the Market? And this should be done oftner than it is, but that they (being corrupted by your bribes) doe more respect their owne priuate gaine, than the good of the common [...] wealth.

Fish.

Although no man did euer knowe of any Butcher fined for selling of meazled porke, or r [...]tten shéep that haue died in a ditch, & shoulders of mutton eaten with worms, yet by washing of them, and be [...]mearing them ouer with [Page] fresh blood, the matter hath béene couered.

But.

You cannot [...]hew such a president amongest all of vs, as we can shew amongst you, as of an éele sodden with a cru [...] of bread, there died nine citizens, a horrible thing: with such dainties doe you furnish mens tables.

Fish.

You tell of a case that nò man could auoyd, if God would haue it so: but with you it is an ordinary thing, to sel cattes for conies, and dogges for hares. I say nothing of pasties made of mans flesh.

But.

What doe you know by me? you vpbraide mée by mens abuses, let them answer these matters that commit them, I do but compare trade with trade, and gaine with gaine: so you may also condemne Gardiners, for that a­gainst their willes they may sometimes sell hemlockes or woolfes bane for colewortes: so may you also condempne Apothecaries, for that sometime vnawares they giue poi­sons insteade of medicines. There is no trade [...]o frée from offence, but such mischances may now and then happen: but you Fishmongers, when yée haue done what you can, yet is it poyson that you sell, if you should sel a crampefish, or a water snake, or a hare of the sea, caught and mingled together with other fish in your nettes, it were a chaunce, and no crime, neither were you any more to be blamed for it than a Physition, who oftentimes killeth that sicke body which he intendeth to cure. This might be borne withall, if only in winter time you did thrust out your filthiness [...]s, the rigor of the season might mitigate the plague: but now in the heate of summer you cast out your rotten garbage, and the Autumne, which is daungerous of it selfe, is by your meanes made more dangerous. And when the yéere doth renew it selfe▪ and hidden humours doe againe shew themselues, not without great danger to the bodie▪ then do you for two whole moneths together play the tyrants, cor­rupting the infancie of the spring with vntimely age. And when this should be holpen by nature, that bodies, [...]éeing purged from bad humors, might be renewed with new moisture, you fill them with méere rottennesse, and stinc­king [Page] corruption: and if there be any corruption in the bo­dy, by your meanes it is increased: and if there be any good humors, they are also corrupted. And this also might bée [...]orne withall, if you did corrupt mens bodies onely: but now, because by the difference of meates, the organical in­struments of the minde be corrupted, it commeth to passe, that the mindes of men are also infected: for the most part, you shal sée these same great fish eaters, such as the fishes themselues are, that is, they looke pale, they smell, they are blockish and mute.

Fish.

Oh sir, you are another Thales, one of the seauen wise men of Greece. How then I pray you doe they looke and smel which liue vpon béetes? doe they looke like béets? do they sauor of them? how do they look and sauor that eate of oxen, shéep, & goats? For sooth like oxen, shéep and goats, do they not? you Butchers sel kids flesh for daintie meate, and yet as it is subiect to the [...]alling sickenesse it selfe, so it bréedeth the same disease in those that loue flesh, were it not better to please the hungry stomacke with salt fish?

But.

As though this were the onely lie, that the natu­rall Philosophers haue written, but admit that they be all true which they write, yet to bodies that are subiect to dis­eases, oftentimes those things that be of themselues excee­ding good, prooue very bad: We sell kiddes flesh vnto those that are troubled with feuers, & consumption of the lungs, but not to giddy braines.

Fish.

If fish-eating be so hurtful as you would make it, why doe the magistrates allow vs to sell our wares all the yéere, and restraine you from selling of your commodities a good parte of the yéere.

But.

Whats that to me? peraduenture that is procu­redNote that of the Phisitian. by bad Physitians, to the end their gaines might be the more.

Fi.

What doe you tell me of bad physitians? why man, none are more enemies to fish than they be.

But.

O deceiue not your selfe, they doe not that for any loue that they beare you, or to the fishes, when they can ab­staine [Page] from them, none more religiously, they know what they doe well euough: they doe therein prouide for them­selues, and their owne health. That which makes many to cough, to languish, to be sicke, is good prouision for them, and they like it well.

Fish.

I wil not speake for Phisitions, let them reu [...]nge themselues vpon thée, (as I doubt not but they will) if e­uer thou fallest into their nets. It sufficeth me that I haue to defend my cause, the good life of our forefa [...]hers, the au­thoritie of the most approoued Writers, the approbation of the reuerend Bishops, and the generall custome of christi­an countries, whome if you will condemne all of madnes, you may: but I had rather be madde with them, than so­ [...]er with Butchers.

But.

You wil not patronize the Physitian, neyther will I be a censurer of ou [...] forefathers, or the common cu­stome, I was alwayes woont to reuerence them, but not to inueigh against them.

Fishm.

In this respect you are more wary than godlie, vnlesse I be deceiued in you.

Bu.

In my opinion, it is good for men to beware howThe Butcher discourseth out of the Bi­ble. they haue to do wi [...]h such as haue auctority in their hands: but I will tell you what I thinke, according to that which I read in my Bible, that is, of the vulgar translation.

Fish.

That so of a Butcher you may become a Diuine.

But.

I thinke that the first men, so soone as they were created of the moist clay, had very healthful bodies, which appéereth by their long liuing. And further, that paradise stoode in a most commodious and healthful ayre. And I do thinke that such bodies in such places, yéelding on euery side a sweete ayre, by reason of the swéete hearbs, trées and flowers that there did growe, might liue long without a­ny meate, and the rather, I thinke so, because the earth a­bundātly powred forth euery thing of it own accord, with­out the labor of man: for the dressing of such a garden was rather to be counted a pleasure than a labour.

Fish.

As yet that which you say is likely, but go on.

[Page]But:

Of that great variety of things which came of s [...] [...]ertile a ground, there was nothing forbidden, but onely one trée.

Fish:

Most true.

But:

And that for no other cause, but that by their obe­dione [...] they might acknowledge their Lord and Maker. And this I thinke, that the earth when it was young, did bring forth all things more happily, and of better iuyce, then if doth now, being old and almost barren, but especi­ally in Paradise.

Fish:

Not vnlike: what then?

But:

Therefore to eate there was of pleasure, not of ne­cessity.

Fish:

I haue heard so.

But:

And to abstaine from tearing, or butchering, li­uing creatures, was then a point of humanitie, not o [...] san­ctitie.

Fish:

I know not that. I reade, that after the floud, to [...]éede vpon liuing creatures, was permitted: I do not reade that it was forbidden before. But why should there bee now a permission granted to eate of them, if it were per­mitted before?

But:

Why doe we not féede vpon frogges, as well as vpon other liuing creatures? Not because they are forbid­den, but because we abhorre them. And it may be, that God in that place, doth but adm [...]nish men what meates are fittest for humane [...]rugality, and not what he would permit to be eaten.

F [...]sh:

I am no Sooth [...]sayer.

But:

But we reade, that so soone as man was created, it was said vnto them; beare rule ouer the fishes of the sea, and the fowles of the aire, and all liuing things that moue vpon the earth. What vse is there of this dominion, if it be net lawfull to eate of them?

Fish:

O cruell Maister, do [...]st thou so debarre thy men and thy maides, thy wife and thy children? but by the same reason thou maiest goe eate thy chamber pot too, for [Page] thou bearest rule ouer it.

But:

But heare againe you prowd Fish monger, of o­ther things there is an vse, and the name of rule is not in vaine: The horse doth beare me on his backe, the cammell carrieth packes, but of fishes what other vse can there be, but to féede vpon them?

Fish:

As if forsooth, there were not a number of medi­cines made of fishes. Againe, there be many things that be made onely for the delight of man, who also in the be­holding of them, may be drawne thereby to an admiration of the Creator. Peraduenture you will not beléeue that Dolphines doe carry men vpon their backes. But to con­clude, there be fishes which doe fore-shew a tempe [...]t to be at hand, as the Hedge. hog of the sea: doe you not want such a seruant at home sometime?

But:

Well, grant that before the floud, it was not per­mitted to eate of any thing but of the fruites of the earth, yet it was no great matter to abstaine from those things which bodily necessity required not, and in killing where­of, was a shew of cruelty. This you will grant me, that the féeding vpon lining creatures, was permitted from the beginning, for the imbecility of mans nature. The fl [...]ud brought cold with it: and we sée at this day, that in colde Countries men are more ginen to eate then in hote: and the ouer-flowing of waters, did either extinguish, or much corrupt the fruite of the earth.

Fish:

Be it so: What then?

But:

And yet aft [...]r the floud men liued aboue two hun­dred yeares.

Fish:

So I beléeue.

But:

Why then did almighty God permit those that were so strong without comparison to eate of all things, and afterward re [...]rained those that were of a farre weaker constitution and shorter time, to certaine kinds of meates,Of the re­ [...]traint of meates vnder the Lawe. as he gaue in charge by Moses.

Fish:

As if it were for me to gi [...]e a reason of Gods do­ings. But I thinke the Lord did then as Maisters vse to [Page] doe, who abridge their seruants of their libertie, which be­fore they allowed them, when they sée that they abuse their Maisters lenity and kindenesse. So we take from a horse that is too lusty and vnruly, his beanes and [...]ates, and giue him but a little hay, and then ride him with a sharper bit and sharper spurres. Mankinde had shaken off all feare and reu [...]rence of God, and was growne into such a kinde of licentiousnesse, as if there had béen no God at all. Héere­upon were ordained lawes, as barres and ceremonies, as railes, precepts, and threatnings, as bridles, that so men might repent.

But:

Why then doe not those barres and bridles re­maine vnto this day?

Fish:

Because the rigor of that carnall seruitude was taken away, after that by the Gospel we were adopted toOf our liber­t [...] vnder the Gospel. be the sonnes of God, when the grace of God did more a­bound, those preceps were abrogated.

But:

Gods law is perpetuall. And Christ saith; he cameObiect. not to breake the Law, but to fulfill the Law. How then durst they that came after, to abrogate a good part of the Law?

Fish:

That Law was not giuen to the Gentiles: andAnswer. therefore it séemed good vnto the Apostles, not to burthen them with circumcision, (which theIewes obserue vnto this day) lest they should (as the Iewes also doe) place the hope of saluation in bodily obseruations, rather then in faith and loue towards God.

But:

I omit the Gentiles. By what scripture prooue you that the Iewes (if they would imbrace the profession of the Gospel) should bee frée from the bondage of Mo­ses Law?

Fish:

Because the Prophets did fore-tell, that God would make a new couenant with them, and giue them a new heart, and they bring in the Lord, abhorring the festi­uall daies of the Iewes, refusing their sacrifices, detesting their fasts, reiecting their offerings, and desiring a people of a circumcised heart. The Lord himselfe confirmed their [Page] prophecies, who giuing his body and his blood vnto hisThe choyce of meates abrogated. Disciples, calleth it a new Testament. Now if nothing were abolished of the old, why is this called a new▪ The choice of meates is abrogated, both by Christs example, as also by his word, who saith; That man is not defiled with that which goeth into the belly, & is cast out in the draught. The same was shewed to Peter in a vision; yea, and Peter himselfe with Paul and the rest, eateth common meates forbidden by the Law. This matter is handled by Paul in all his Epistles, and without doubt, the Christian people to this day doe follow the same rule, as deliuered them from the hands of the Apostles. Therefore the Iewes are not onely fréed from the superstitious obseruation of the Law, as it were from milke, or food that they were famili­arly vsed vnto, but now they are driuen from it as a thing out of season. Neither is the Law abrogated, but onely some part of it is commanded to cease, which now would be idle, or in vaine, which may be illustrated by some fami­liarSimilies. similitudes in the course of Nature.

Gréene leaues and blossomes doe promise fruit to spring1 after them. Now when the trée is loaden with fruit, no man desires the blossomes: neither is any man gréeued2 for the losse of his sonnes childhoode, when his sonne is growne to mans estate. No man careth for candles and3 torches when the Sunne is risen. The tutor hath no cause4 to complaine, if his scholler (being of a ripe age) doth chal­le [...]ge his liberty, and hath his tutor vnder his owne pow­er5 or command. A pledge is no longer a pledge, when the things promised are exhibited. The Bride, before she be6 brought to the Bride-groome, doth comfort herselfe with letters, which he sent vnto her, she kisseth the gifts that come from him, and imbraceth his picture; but when shée inioyeth the Bride-groome himselfe, then she neglecteth those things which shee loued before. But the Iewes at the first, are hardly drawne from their old customes; as a childe is hardly weaned from the breast. Therefore they are almost by force driuen from those figures, or shadowes, [Page] or temporary comforts, that they might wholly i [...]brace him whome that ceremoniall lawe did promise and sha­dow.

But:

Who would euer haue expected so much diuinity to come from a Fish monger? Truely you are worthy to sell salt-fish no longer, but fresh fish. But tell me one thing, if you were a Iew, as I am not sure whether you be or no, and were in danger of death, by reason of extreame famine, woulde you die rather then you would eate any swines flesh?

Fish.

What I would do, I know: but what I should doOfeating swines flesh. I know not.

But.

God hath forbidden both, he hath said, Thou shalte doe no murther, and he hath saide, Eate no swine flesh. In such a case, which commandement should giue place to o­ther?

Fish.

First, it is not e [...]ident, whether God forbade the eat­ing of swines flesh with this mind, that men should rather die than preserue life by eating of it. For the Lord h [...]mselfe excuseth Dauid, that contrary to the lawe did eate the shew bread: and when the Iewes were exiles in Babylon, they o­mi [...]ted many things which the law prescribed. Therefore I should iudge the law of nature, which is perpetuall and inuiolable, to be preferred be [...]ore that which neither was euer, and was af er to be abrogated.

But.

Why then are the brethren of the Macha [...]ees com­mended,Why the Ma­cabees refusd to eate swines flesh. for choosing to die, rather a most cruell death, than once to taste of Swines flesh?

Fish.

I thinke it was, because that eating so commann­ded by that heathen king, did comprehend vnder it a re­nouncing of the whole law of thei [...] country, euen as circū ­cision, which the Iewes would enforce vpon the Gentiles, contained the profession of their whole religion, no other­wise then an ear [...]est which serueth to bind men to the per­formance of the whole bargaine.

But.

I [...] then the grosser part of the law were rightly taken away, when the light of the Gospel arose, what is [Page] [...]he reason that the same, or more grieuous then they, are now commaunded againe; and especially [...]eing as the Lord doth call his yoke an easie yoke. And Peter in the Acts of the Apostles doth call the lawe of the Iewes a hard law, which neither they nor their fathers were able for to beare? Circumcision is taken away, but baptisme is com in steade thereof, I had almost saide, of a harder condition. Then the Infants were deferred vnto the eight day, and if the childe chaunced to die in the meane time, the parents desire of circumcision was imputed vnto them for circum­cision. We bring little children immediately from the mo­thers wombe, and dippe them ouer head and eares in cold water, which hath stoode perhappes long a putrifying in a stone font. An [...] if it chaunce to die the first day, or to mis­carry euen in th [...] [...]irth, through no default of the friendes, or parents, they say in Popery that the poore miserable in­fant is damned in hell for euer.

Fish.

So they say indéede, but I sée no reason for it, forOf children dying with­out baptizing. not the want of the sacrament, but the contempt and neg­lect of the sacrament is dangerous, but especially to the pa­rents: but other wise, if children die before they can be law­fully baptized, we must beléeue that they are saued by gods election, and by vertue of the couenaunt which God hath made to the faithfull, and to their séede, of which couenant baptisme is but a seale and a pledge, to confirme our faith that doe beléeue, and the childes faith when it commeth to yéeres of discretion: but Gods grace is not tied to his seales or pledges. We are pestered with moe fasting dayes, and festiuall dayes than the Iewes were. They were more free from their meates than we be, for they might all the yéere long eate muttons, capons, partridges, kiddes, &c. so may not we. There was no kinde of garment forbidden them [...]ut linsey woolsey: but nowe we must be prescribed what appa [...]rell to weare, of what fashion, and colour, and [...] must weare [...]ilke, and who not: and many things moe I could [...], which makes me thinke that the state of the Iewe [...] [...] sa [...]re better than ours.

[Page]You erre all the way Butcher, you erre: Christs yoke is not such a thing as you imagine it to be. A christian is ti­edMath [...] 29. & hebr 2. 3. & hebr. 10. 28 to more things for quantitie, and more hard for quality than the Iewes: yea and to a sorer punish ment, if hée neg­lect them or contem [...]e them, but a greater force of faith and loue being ioyned vnto them, dooth make those things swéete and easie, which are by nature most hard and grée­u [...]us.

But.

But when the Spirite was giuen in the likenesse of sierie tongues, it replenished the heartes of the faithfull with a most plentifull gift of [...]aith and loue: why was the burden of the Law then withdrawn as it were from weak ones, that were ready to sincke as it were vnder a most cruell burden? Why dooth Peter (being now indued with the holy Ghost) call it an intolerable burthen?

Fish.

It was abrogated in parte, and that for two cau­ses.

First, lest Iudaisme shoulde (as it did beginne) ouer­whelme the glory of the Gospel.

Secondly, lest through the rigour of the ceremoniall Lawe, the Gentiles should be kept backe from Christ, a­mong whom were many weake ones, who were in daun­ger of a double inconuenience, if some part of the Law had not béene taken away.

First, they might else haue beléeued that no man could be saued without the obseruation of the lawe.

Secondly, they might otherwise perhappes choose ra­ther to remayne still in their Paganisme, than to vndergo the yoke of Moses lawe.

Therefore it was méete to allure and catch those weake ones, with a certaine baite of libertie.

Againe, part of the ceremoniall law was then abrog [...] ­ted, or changed to some other thing, in regard of th [...] who slatly denyed all, or any hope of saluation to be in the pro­fession of the Gospel, without the obseruation of the [...], circumcision, sabba [...]ths, choice of meates, and many such things. And further, that spéech of the holy Apostle saint [Page] Peter, where he saith, the Lawe is an intollerable burden, is not to be referred vnto that person which hée then sus­tayned (for to him nothing was intollerable) but to those grosse and weake Iewes, which not without great yrke­somenesse did bite vpon the shell, hauing not as yet tasted the swéete ker [...]ell of the spirite.

But.

Your reasoning is grosse enough, or (if you will)Humane ob­seruations to be arbitrary, and why. substantiall enough: but mée thinkes there are causes e­now why their carnall obseruations should be now taken away, or at leastwise be left arbitrary to euery mans cons­cience and discretion.

Fish.

Why so?

But.

Oflate I sawe the whole worlde pictured vpon a linnen cloth, but very large, there I sawe how small that part is which doth purely and sincerely professe Christian religion, namely one corner of Europe reaching westward, and parte of it towardes the north, and a third parte tend­ing (but afarre off) toward the south, and the fourth reach­ing to the eastward séemed to be Polonia. All the worlde be­sides containeth either Barbarians, not much differing from bruite beasts, or Schismatiques, or Heretiques, or all.

Fish.

But you sawe not all that part which lieth south­ward, and the dispersed Ilands, noted for woorthy chri­stains.

But.

I saw them: and I learned, that from thence many preys haue bin taken: but that christianitie was planted there, I heard not. Sith therefore the haruest is so great, I woulde thinke that this were the best way of all for to plant religion there, that as the Apostles tooke away the burthen of Moses Law, lest the Gentiles should goe backe againe; so now also to alure the weake ones, it were fit to remoue the bondage of certaine things, without which the world stood well enough at the first, and now might continue as wel, if there were that faith and charity which the Gospel requireth. Againe, I sée that there bee many which doe place the chéefest part of piety in the obseruati­on [Page] of places, garments, meates, fasts, gestures, and sin­ging, and by these things do iudge their neighbour, against the rule of the Gospel, from whence it commeth, that when all things should be referred to faith and charity, by the su­perstition of these things, both are extinguished. And farre is he from the faith of the Gospel, that trusteth to such things: And farre is hee from Christian charity, that for meate and drinkes sake, will gréeue his Christian brother, whose liberty Christ hath purchased with his blood. What bitter contentions doe we sée amongst Christians? What deadly reproaches about garments of this fashion, or that fashion, and about the colour of garments, and about meates which the waters yéelde, and which the fieldes yéelde? If this mischéefe had infected but a few, it might be contemned: but now the whole world we sée is at deadly centention about them and the like. If these things wer [...] taken away, or le [...]t to euery mans discretion, wee should liue in greater concord, and ceremonies neglected, wé [...] should striue onely to such things as Christ hath comman­ded, and other Nations would the sooner receiue the Chri­stian religion, when they should sée it accompanied with such Christian liberty. And I hope, that he which is now chéefe Bishop, Clemens by name, (which signifieth Milde­nesse, who is, animo, pietate (que) clementissimus, both for his na­ture and godlinesse most milde) to that end he may draw al men to the fellowship of the Church, will mittigate all those matters, which haue hitherto kept backe from im­bracing the same. And I hope that he will more respect the gaine of the Gospel, then the persecuting of his owne right in all points. I heare daily complaints of diuers actions and Churches that be gréeued, but I hope he will so mode­rate all matters, that héereafter he shall be very impudent that shall complaine.

Fish:

And I would to God that all Princes in Chri­stendome would do the like, and then I [...]oubt not but that Christian religion, which is now driuen into a strait, [...] florish and spread most happily, if the [...] [Page] nations might perceiue that they were called to the liber­ty of the Gospel, and not to humane bondage: and that they should not be exposed to repine and spoile, but admit­ted to be pertakers with vs of happinesse and holinesse, when they shall come amongst vs, and finde in vs true Christianity, & christian dealing indéede they wil of them­selues [...]ffer, more then any loue can inforce or draw from them.

But:

I hope that would be effected in short space, if that pestilent goddesse, of reuenge (which hath committed two most mighty Monarches of the world, vnto most deadly warre) were gone to the diuell, from whence she sprang.

Fish:

And I much maruell that this is not already ef­fected, séeing as King Francis is so full of humanity, as no man more: and Emperour Charles, I suppose is sufficiently instructed by his tutors, that by how much the Lord hath inlarged his Dominions, by so much the more should hée adde daily vnto his owne clemency and goodnesse.

But:

Surely there is nothing wanting in either of them.

Fish:

Why then hath not the whole world, that which they so much desire?

But:

As yet the Lawyers and Counsellers cannot a­grée about the limites of their dominions. And you know, that the tumults that are in Comedies, are all waies shut vp and ended wi [...]h marriages: and in like manner are the tragedi [...]s of Princes. But in Comedies marriages are suddainely accomplished: but amongst great Personages the matter is with grea [...] [...]ficulties brought to passe: And better it is to haue the wound by leasure brought to head, then presen [...]ly to haue the soare breake out againe.

Fish:

And do you thinke that these marriages are firme bonds of concord?

But:

Truely I could wish it were so: but euen from hence I sée often times, the greatest part of warres to a­rise: and if any warre be begunne, while one kinsman bordereth vpon another, the fire doth flame out further, [Page] and is more hardly quenched.

Fish:

I confesse it, and doe acknowledge it to bee most true that you say.

But:

But is it méete thinke you, that for the brables of Lawyers, and the delaies of marriages, the whole world should suffer so much euill? For now there is nothing safe, and bad men may doe what they list, while it is neither peace nor warre.

Fish:

It is not for me to talke of Princes counsells, but if any would make me an Emperour, I know then what I would doe.

But:

Well, goe to, imagine that you are an Empe­rour, and Bishoppe of Rome too if you will, what would you doe?

Fish:

Nay, rather make mee Emperour and French King.

But:

Goe to then, suppose you are both.

Fish:

So soone as I had gotten peace in my land, I will send out Proclamation throughout my Kingdome, thatThe Fishm. playeth the Emperour. no man, vpon paine of death, should touch so much as his neighbours henne. And hauing by that means pacified all matters with my owne good, or rather (I may say) with the common good of my people; I would then come to a point about the borders or bounds of my dominions, or a­bout some conditions of marriage.

But:

Haue you no surer bond of peace then marriage?

Fish:

Yes▪ I thinke I haue.

But:

I pray you shew it.

Fish:

If I were Emperour, [...]s would I (without de­lay) deale with the French King. Brother, some euill spi­rite hath stirred vp this warre betwéene vs, and yet the contention that hath béene betwéene vs, hath not beene to death, but for rule onely: you for your part haue shewed your selfe a most couragious and valiant warriour; For­tune hath fauoured me, and hath made you, of a King, a Captaine; that which happened to you, might haue fallen vnto me, and▪ your calamity doth admonish vs all of hu­mane [Page] condition: we haue both of vs found by experience, that this kinde of contending is discommodious on either side. Goe to, let vs héereafter contend the contrary way: I giue you your selfe, and I giue you your liberty; I accept of you, not as an enemy, but as a friend, let al former quar­rells be buried in obliuion, returne vnto your own subiects a frée man, and that gratis, without any ransome, take your goods with you, be a good neighbour, and hence-forward let vs striue onely about this; which of vs shall ouer [...]ome other in faithfulnesse, in good will, and in kinde offices, let vs not striue which of vs shal most inlarge our possessions, but who shall administer and gouerne that which he hath most holy and vprightly. In the former conflict I gat the praise of a fortunate man, but in this, he that ouercommeth shal winne farre greater glory. And truely, to me this fame of Clemency shal purchase more true commendation, then if I had conquered all France, and the fame of your grati­tude, shall winne you more hono [...]r, then if you had driuen me out of all Italy. Do not you enuy me that honour which I affect, and I againe shall so fauour your desire, that you shall willingly be a debtor to such a friend? Oh what mag­nificent and plausible renowne would this curtesie winne vnto Charles through the world? What Nation would not willingly submitte themselues to a Prince so milde and curteous?

But:

You haue played Caesars part very finely. Now let me heare what you would doe if you were chéefe Bi­shoppe?The Fishm. heere playeth the Bis [...]op.

Fish:

It were a long whiles worke to prosecute euery point. I will tel you briefly, I would deale, that all the world should sée that he is the chéefest bishop in the church, that thirsteth after nothing, but the glory of Christ, and the saluation of mens soules. And such a course would frée the name of chéefe Bishop from all enuy, and would also purchase sound and perpetuall honours.

But.

But to returne to our former matter againe. Doe the bishops lawes and const [...]tutions bind all that are in [Page] the Church to obserue them?

Fish.

They do, if they be good, and confirmed by the au­tho [...]itie of the Prince.

But.

If the constitutions of the Church be of such force, why doth God in Deut. so straightly charge, that no manObiect. shall adde any thing to his lawes, or take any thing from the same?Answer.

Fish.

He doth not adde vnto the law of God, which more plainly vnfoldeth that which lay wrapped vp before, or which doth suggest that which may make for the obserua­tion of the law: neither doth he detract from the worde of God, who according to the ab [...]itie of the hearers, doth de­spence the word and law of God, reuealing some things, and concealing other some, as the necessitie of the time shal require.

But.

Suppose that the bishops, with the rest of the Church, should make a constitution, that no man (retur­ning from Market,) should eate meate with vnwashen hands; he that should breake this constitution, should be in daunger of hell fire?

Fish.

I thinke not so, vnlesse the fault be aggrauated with contempt of publike authoritie.

But.

[...]ath a maister of a familie the like authoritie in hisOf the master of a familie, his authority. house, that a bishop hath in his Diocesse?

Fish.

I thinke he hath, according to his proporiion.

But.

And do his commandements bind in like maner?

Fish.

Why not.

But.

I commaund that none of my houshold shall eate no Onions, or the like, what daunger is he in before God that shall breake my commaundement?

Fish.

Let him looke to that; for it is a breach of the first commaundement.

But.

But I see my next neighbour to be in daunger, and when I méete with him, I doe secretly admonish him, to withdraw himselfe from the companie of drunkards, and gamesters he settes my admonition at nought, and liueth afterward more riotously then he did before. Doth my ad­m [...]nition [Page] bind him?

Fish.

I thinke so. For if we be bound by the Scripture to exhort one another while we haue time, then those which are exhorted are bound to hearken vnto, and obey the exhortations of their brethren.

But.

Then whether we counsaile, or exhort, the partie counsailed, &c. is snared.

Fish.

Not so, for it is not an admonition, but the matter of an admonition, that doth snare the conscience. For al­though I be admonished to weare Pantofles, yet am I not guilty of any crime, though I neglect this admonition.

But.

From whence haue humane lawes their force of binding?

Fish.

From the wordes of Saint Paul, Obay those that haue the ouer-sight of you.

But.

Haue euerie constitution and ordinance of Magi­strates, ciuill and ecclesiasticall, his power of binding the conscience?

Fish.

Yea, so it be equall, [...], and lawfully ordained.

But.

But who shall iudge of this matter?

Fish.

They that made the law, must also interpret the law.

But.

He that relieueth his parents, being therunto com­pelledOf constrai­ned obedi­ence. by law, whether doth he fulfill the law or no?

Fish.

I think not. For first, he doth not satisfie the mind of the Law-giuer: secondly, there is added hypocrisie vn­to an vnwilling mind.

But.

A man fastes, that would not fast, except the church did commaund him to fast: doth he satisfie the law?

Fish.

Now you chaunge both the Authour and letter of the law.

But.

Compare then a Iew obseruing his prescribed fasting dayes, (which he would not obserue vnlesse the law did driue him thereunto) with a christian obseruing his fa­sting daies, which he would not obserue vnlesse the church did compell him thereunto.

Fish.

I thinke he may be pardoned, which for infirmitie [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] sake borroweth a poynt of the law: but not he that ofsette purpose (and when he needeth not) shall obstinately crosse the law.

But.

If Gods laws and mens lawes do alike bind the conscience, what difference then is there betwéene them?The [...] betweene Gods lawes and mens lawes.

Fish.

He that [...] the lawes of men, doth sinne im­mediately against man, and mediately against God, (as the Schoolemen say:) but he that breaketh the lawes of God, sinneth immediately against God, and mediate­ly against men.

But.

What skils it whether the Uinegar, or the Worm­wood be put in first, séeing I must drinke vp both? But what difference is there betwéene the authoritie of God, and the authoritie of man?

Fish.

A wicked question.

But.

But many do beleeue that there is great difference, God gaue a law by Moses, which may not be broken. The same God giueth lawes by Magistrates, and Sy [...]ods of Bishops, and other Ministers, what difference is there be­twéene them and these? Moses lawes was giuen by a man, and our lawes are giuen by men?

Fish.

Of the spirit of Moses it is not lawfull to make a­nie doubt.

But.

What difference betwéene the prec [...]pts of Paul, and the ordinances of bishops?

Fish.

Great difference, because that without controuer­sie Paul wrote by the inspiration of the holy Ghost.

But.

Why is not Pauls spirit to b [...] called in question?

Fish.

Because the consent of the whole Church is a­gainst it.

But.

Of the spirit of Bishops a man may make some question.

Fish.

Not rashly, vnlesse the matter doth manifestly sa­ [...]our of impietie, or filthie lucre.

But.

What say you of Councels?Of Councels and their au­thoritie.

Fish.

Men must beware how they call their Decrées in­to question, if they bee lawfully as [...]embled and guided [Page] by the holy Ghost.

But.

Then there may be some Councell held, so whom these things agrée not.

Fish.

There is no doubt of that, for there haue béene many wicked Councels: and if that were not so, Diuines would not haue added that distinction.

But.

It seemeth then that a man may doubt of Conu­cels.

Fish.

Not after they be receiued, and approued by the iudgement and consent of Christian Nations.

But.

What other difference can you shew me betwéene the lawes of God, and the lawes of man?

Fish.

I desire to heare that from you.

But.

The lawes of God be vnchangeable, vnlesse theyOther deffe­rences be­tweene the lawes of God and the lawes of men. be such as were made to signifie or foreshew some other thing, or to hold the people in subiection for a time, which also the Prophets foretold should end, as touching their carnall sense, and which the Apostles also taught should be omitted.

2 Againe, amongst the lawes of men, there are found oftentimes wicked, foolish, and pestilent lawes, where [...]pon they are abrogated, either by the authoritie of the higher power, or by an vniuersall neglect of the people. In the lawes of God there is no such matter.

3 Againe, mans law doth cease of his own accord, when the cause is ceased for which they were made.

4 Againe, mans law is no law, vnlesse it be approued by the consent of the people. The law of God ought nei­ther to be examined, neither can it be abrogated. And al­beit Moses in giuing the law gathered the voices, and re­quired the consent of the people, yet this was not of necessi­tie, but to make them the more guiltie, and to leaue them without excuse if they did breake them. For it is an impu­dent part to contemne that law which thou hast appro­ued, by giuing thy voyce and consent.

5 Lastly, forsomuch as the lawes of men, (which for the most part prescribe bodily things) are inducements to god­linesse, [Page] they séeme then of right to cease when any man is growne to the strength of a spirituall man, that nowe hée néede not any longer to be bounded in with such railes or bounds, so that to the vttermost of his power he be care­full, not wittingly to offend the weake ones, nor mali­tiously to offend those that are superstitious. As if a fa­ther, for the better preseruing of his daughters virginity vntil she be married, doth charge hir, while she is a virgin, that she drinke no wine: but when she is growne to be of yéeres, and married to a husband, she is no longer tied to her fathers commaundement. Many lawes are like vnto medicines, or potions, which are oftentimes [...]ltered and changed, or taken quite away, according to the na [...]ure of their obi [...]cts about which they are employed, the Physiti­ons themselues also allowing the same, who if they shouldA s [...]t simili­tude. alwayes vse the same remedies which haue béene prescri­bed by antient writers, they shoulde kill more then they should heale.

Fish.

You heap vp a number of things together, wherof some I like, and som I mislike, and som I vnderstand not.

But.

What if a bishops lawe shall euidently sauour of cou [...]tousues, as for example, if he should ordaine that e­u [...]ry parishioner thr [...]ghout his Diocesse shall twice cue­ry yéere giue a ducket of golde to be absolued from such ca­ses as they call episcopall cases, whereby hée may extort the more of those that are vnder his iurisdiction, do you thinke he is to be obeyed?

Fish.

I thinke he is, but in the meane time his wicked lawe is to be cried out against, but alwayes without sedi­tion: but whence is it that the Butcher is such a Questio­nist and sifter of matters? let Carpenters [...] of their building, and Eutchers of Butchers matters.

But.

We are oftentimes troubled with such questions at feasts, and s [...]metimes the heate is so great, that it grow­eth to fighting.Howe wee should carrie our [...] to­wardes the lawes establi­shed by pu [...] ­like authoritie

Fish.

Let them fight that list, I thinke that the lawes of our Emperours ought to be reuerently embraced, and [Page] religiously obserued, euen as procéeding from God, neither d [...]e I holde it safe, or sauouring of godlinesse, [...] [...]o conceiue, or suspitiously to speake of publique authoritie. And if there [...]e any thing that may séeme to sauour of ty­ranny, which yet dooth not compell men to impietie, I do holde it better to suffer it patiently, than to resist it sediti­ously.

But.

By this meanes I confesse you prouide well for them that excell in dignitie, and I am of your minde, ney­ther do I enuie them, but I would willingly heare what course might be taken for the liberty and good of the peo­ple.

Fish.

God will not leaue his people destitute.

But.

But in the meane time, where is that libertie of the spirite which the Apostles promise out of the Gospel, and which Paul so often beateth vpon, crying out, that the kingdome of God is not meat and drinke, and that we that are the children of God, are not vnder a Schoolemaister, and that we shoulde be no longer in bondage to the rudi­ments of this world, and a number of things moe: if Chri­stians be burdened with so many constitutions more than the Iewes were.

Fish.

I wil tell you Butcher, christian libertie doth notWherin chri­stian liberty consisteth. consist in this, that it may be lawful for men to doe what they list, being set frée from humane constitutions, but that from the aboun [...]ance and feruencie of the spirite, they be­ing prepared for all weathers, (as they vse to speake) doe those things willingly and chéerefully which are prescri­bed them, that is to say, like sonnes, and not like vnto ser­uants.

But.

Uery wel, but vnder Moses law there were sons, and vnder the Gospell there be seruants. And more than that, I feare lest the greatest parte o [...] men are of the nature of seruants, which are compelled by lawe to doe their due­tie: what difference is there then betweene the old Testa­ment and the new?

Fish.

In my opinion, great di [...]ference. That which the [Page] olde Testament taught vnder vailes, the new TestamentThe diff [...]ence betweene the olde and new Test [...]ment. layeth before our eies. That which the olde foretolde by figures, and shadowes, the new sheweth more cleerely. What that promised very obscurely, and afarre off, this hath exhibited for a great part thereof. That was offered to one nation onely, this dooth exhibite saluation indiffe­rently to all. That made a few Prophets and woorthie men partakers of that excellent and spirituall grace, this hath plentifully powred out all maner of gifts, as namely of tongues, of healing diseases, of working myracles, of prophecyings, &c. and that vpon men of all ages, sexes, and nations.

But:

What is then become of all these things now?

Fish.

They are not dead, but asléepe: not perished, but ceased, either because there is no need of them, the doctrine of the Gospèl being now published ouer the worlde, or be­cause many being but christians onely in name, want that faith whereby myracles were wrought.

But.

If myracles be néedefull for those that be vnbelée­uers,Of Miracles. and distrustfull, then now are they néedefull, for now the world swarmeth with such.

Fishm.

There are vnbeléeuers that erre of simplicitie, such were the Jewes which mu [...]mured against Peter for receiuing Cornelius and his housholde vnto the grace of the Gospel. And such were the Gentiles, who supposed that the religion of their forefathers would saue them, and as for the doctrine of the Apostles, they accounted it strange superstition. These, at the sight of myracles were conuer­ted. They which now distrust the Gospel, a [...]ter so great light of knowledge, so long shining in all partes of the worlde, doe not erre of simpli [...]itie, but being blind [...]d with euill affections, they li [...]t not to vnderstand. No myracles would euer reclaime such persons to a better minde. And now is the time of healing, hereafter wil be a time of ven­geance, vpon all such as will not be healed of their errour. But to let these things passe, tell mee in good earnest, is it true that you saide, that there is libertie giuen for eating [Page] of flesh, who list, and when they will?

But.

I did but ieast, to stirre you a little. And if such an Edict were made, the Company of the Fishmonger [...] would be seditious. Againe, the worlde is full of Phari­saicall persons, who can no way else get themselues an o­pinion of holinesse, but by such obseruations. And they would neyther loose one iote of that glorie which they had gotten, nor endure that their inferiours should haue more libertie than themselues. Neither woulde this be for our commodities that are Butchers, to haue a frée vse of all things graunted, for then our gaines would be very vn­certaine, whereas now our gaine is more certaine, and lesse subiect to chaunce and labour.

Fish.

You saide most truely, and the same discommodi­tie would redownd vnto vs.

But.

I am glad yet, that at the last there is somewhat found, wherein the Fishmongers and the Butchers do a­grée. Now that I may beginne to speake in good earnest, it were better (as I take it) for the christian people to bée lesse clogged with constitutions and humane ordinances, especially such as doe not tend much to godlinesse, but ra­ther doe hurt, yet on the other side, I wil not defend them which reiect all, and care not a strawe for any constit [...]ti­ons of any man. Yea so péeuish are they some of them, that therefore they wil doe such and such things, onely because they are forbidden. But yet I cannot maruaile enough at the preposterous iudgement of mortall men.

Fish.

No more can I.

But.

If we suspect any daunger of loosing any ioate ofMan must be so honoured as God be not defrauded of his honour. weight from the constitutions and authoritie of the Cler­gie, we kéepe a stirre, as if heauen and earth should goe to­gither: but although there be so much giuen to humane authoritie, that Gods authoritie is not so much regarded as it ought to be, yet we sléepe soundly, and thinke there is no daunger at hand. And thus while we labour to shunne one rocke, wée runne vpon another more deadly, and that without any feare at all. The [...]ishops and cleargy are to [Page] haue that honor which is due vnto them? who denyeth it? especially if they doe according to their names: but it is a wicked thing to transferre that honour vnto men, which is due and proper vnto God, and while we are precise in re­uerencing of men, to do little or none at all vnto God. The Lorde is to be honoured and reuerenced in our neighbour, but in the meane time we must beware, that God by this meanes be not defrauded of his honour.

Fish.

In like manner wée sée many [...]o put so much con­fidence in outward ceremonies, that they altogether neg­lect those things which pertaine to true pietie, arrogantly ascribing that to their owne merites, which is due onelie to Gods mercie and goodnesse, setting downe their rest there, from whence they should procéede to greater perfe­ction, and withall, reproaching and iudging their neigh­bors by those things which in themselues are neither good nor bad.

But.

Yea, and one and in the same action, if there béeCases of pre­post [...]rous iudgement. two things whereof the one is better than the other, we do euer make most reckoning of the worst parte. The bodie and bodily things are euery where more estéemed than the soule, and the things that belong to the soule. To kill a man is counted a hainous crime, and so it is, but to cor­rupt the soule of man with pestilent doctrine, and viperous suggestions, is a sporte. If a Minister weare a Lay mans garment, he is cast into prison, and seuerely punished: but if he be found drincking and bowsing in ale-houses, and whore houses, if he be a whoremaister, if he be a gam­ster, if he defile other mens wiues, if hee neuer study the Scriptures, yet (if he be formall) hée is for all that a pil­lar of the Church, and nothing is sayde vnto him. I ex­cuse not his disorderly going in apparell forbidden: but I blame this preposterous iudgement.

Fish:

Yea, if hee say not his stint of prayers at his set houres, he is an Anathema, accursed: but if he be an vsurer, or symonist, he goeth scot frée.

Fish:

If one should sée a Carthusian Friar otherwise [Page] clad, then according to this order, or féeding vpon flesh in Lent, or vpon Fridaies, &c. how is he accursed, abhorred, detested, yea, men feare that the earth will open and swal­low vp both the beholder and him that is beheld: but if the same man sée him lie drunken in the steéetes, or with lies and standers, raging against the good name of other men, and laying snares through crafty and subtile meanes, to intrap his poore neighbour, no man doth therefore abhorre him.

Fish:

It is as if one should sée a Franciscan Friar weare a girdle without knots, or an Augustine Friar to weare a linnen girdle in stéed of leather, or a Carmelite to go with­out a girdle. Againe, to sée a Franciscane weare shooes, or a Crosse-bearer halfe shood, were a horrible fact, and they worthy for the same to be drowned in the bottome of the sea.

But:

Yea, of late there were with vs twoo women, counted both wise women: one of them went home and tra­uelled before her time, and the other fell into a sweund, be­cause they sawe a certaine canon goe before the holy Nunnes, or Uirgines (as they will be called) in the next Uillage, & walking openly without a white garment, and his black cloke vpon it: but the same woman had often seen such birdes banquetting, and reuelling, singing, and daun­sing, kissing and ambling, the rest I will conceale, and yet they thought they neuer saw enough.

Fish:

Peraduenture that sexe is lawlesse: but you know Polithescus, doe you not? hee was very dangerously sicke; the Phisitians had often perswaded him to eate egges and white meates, but all in vaine. To the same effect did the Bishop exhort him, but he (though he were learned, and a Batcheller of Diuinity) did choose rather to die then to fol­low, the counsells either of the B [...]shop or of the Phisi­tians. Then it séemed good to the Phisitians and the rest of his friends, to deceiue him by a wiie: there was a supping made for him of egges and goates milke, which they called Almond milke, he did eate it very willingly, and so conti­nuing [Page] some daies together, at last he beganne to amend, vntil a certaine damsel tolde him what it was, then he be­gan to cast vp that which he had eaten. But the same man that was so superstitious in egges and milke, made no con­science of forswearing a debt that he owed me: for when I in simplicity sent him his bill, he secretly with his naile cut it and rent it, and sware it was cancelled. What more peruerse then this iudgement? he sinned against the minde of the Church, in not obeying either the Bishop or the Phi­sitians, and in manifest periury he had a firme conscience, that was so weake in a messe of milke.

But:

Now you make me remember a tale that I heard of late a Dominican Friar tell in his sermon, of a holy Uir­gine that was oppressed by a young man; the swelling of her belly did plainely argue the fact: she was called before the Abbasse, and the rest of the Nunnery, the pleadeth that she was ouermatched: but you should haue cried out (saith the Abbasse) I should haue done so indéede, but it is a great offence to breake silence in the sléeping chamber.

Fish:

Now to requite your tale with the like. I wasHoly virgins. of late in a place where a couple of Nunnes came to visite their acquaintance; their man through forgetfulnesse had lest their portuse behinde. Good God what a stirre was there, to supper they wold not go before they had said their euensong, neither would they reade on any other booke but their owne: In the meane time, all the house tarried for their supper. To be short, their man was faine to run backe againe to their Cloister, la [...]e in the euening hee brings their owne prayer booke: well, prayers are said, and scarsely had we supped before ten of the clocke.

But:

All this while I heare nothing worthy to be much blamed.

Fish:

Because you haue but halfe the storie. While they were at supper, those Uirgines beganne to be merry with wine: at length, hauing finished their laughter, the whole company abounded with ieasts and scoffes, not very plea­ [...] to chaste yeares, but no man was more lasciuious [Page] then those holy Uirgines, which would not goe to supper before they had said prayers vpon their owne booke, and after the maner of their Cloister or Couent: from [...] ­ing they procéeded to play, to dansing, to sing bawdy songs, the rest I dare not tel: but I am afraid there was that night somewhat committed that did scantly become Uir­gines, vnlesse these fore warnings, their lasciuious [...]yorts, noddings, and kissings, did much deceiue me.

But:

This impiety is not so much to be imputed to the Uirgines, as to those Priests which had charge ouer them: but goe to, I wil also requite your story with such another, and such a one as I was an eye-witnesse vnto my sel [...]e. Within these few daies there were a company clapt in pri­son for baking of bread vpon the Lords day, which they said méere necessity droue them vnto. I condemne not this censure, but I like not the preposterous partiality of mens iudgements. A little while after vpon a Sunday, called Palmes sunday, by chance I was to goe to the next Uil­lage: there, about foure of the clocke after dinner, it was my hap to méete with I know not whether I may call it, a ri­diculous, or a miserable spectacle: I suppose that no drun­ken feasts had euer more filthinesse: some réelde this way and that way with wine, euen as a ship left at sea withoutMost beastly drunk [...]nnes. a guide, is tossed of the windes and the waues. There were some that went arme in arme to hold by one another, and yet so weake they were, that they were stil downe, and could hardly rise againe. Many of them were crowned with oaken leaues. A certaine Seignior amongst them, playing the foster-father of Bacchus, was carried like a packe vpon mens shoulders, in that manner as men vse to carry a dead corps, his féet vpward, and his head down­ward, with his face towards this porters legges, lest hée should choke himselfe with vomiting, if he had béene vp­ward, he did pitteously bewray the hose and shooes of those porters that came behinde: neither was any of the porters sober: for the most part they did nothing but laugh, but in such sort, as any man might easily perceiue them to be be­sides [Page] their wits. The fury of Bacchus had so possessed them all, and with this shew they went through the City euen in the open day light. If these men had but tasted an egge, they should haue béene haled to prison, as if they had killed their father, whereas for loosing the sacred sermon, for neg­lecting the publike worship of God, & for cōmitting so hor­rible intemperancy, & that vpon so holy a day, & in so pub­like a manner; to the great offence of God, and griefe of the godly, no man punished thē, no man was angry with them.

Fish:

Neuer maruaile much at that: for in the middest of the City, in Ale-houses that be next vnto the Church, vpon Sabaoth daies and other holy daies, you shall haue them tipling, singing bawdy songs, dancing, quarrelling, and fighting, with so great noise and tumult, that neither the sermon can be heard, nor any holy businesse be perfor­med without disturbance. If the same persons should at the same time but mend a shooe, or eate a pigge vpon a Fri­day, they should bee seuerely punished for a most deadly sinne. And yet the Lords day was chéefely ordained to this end; that men might be at leasure to heare the doctrine of the Gospel, and therefore are men then forbidden to worke bodily worke, that they might be at leasure to informe their mindes with the wil of God. Is not this strange per­uersenesse of mens iudgements?Of fasting.

But.

Uery strange. Now in the fast it selfe, which is prescribed in Poperie, there be two things, one is the ab­staining from meate; the other is the choise of meates. E­uery one knoweth the first to be according to Gods com­maundement: but the other is, not onely humane, but also contrary to the doctrine of the Apostle, howsoeuer we would excuse the matter, yet here also by a pr [...]posterous iudgement it is lawfull for the people to suppe, and it is no fault in them; but to taste of meate forbidden by man, andOf receiuing the Sacramēt. permitted by God, & his seruants the Apostles, is a deadly sin counted. What a heinous offence would men account it, to receiue the holy sacrament of Christs bodie and blood with vnwashen hands▪ and indeed it is a [...]ault, but h [...] [...] [Page] little do they feare to receiue the same with anwashen hart, and a minde defiled with peruerse and wicked lusts?

Fish.

Yea, how many Priests are there, which woulde rather die then minister the Sacrament in a Cuppe, not yet consecrated by the Bishop, or in such garments as they vsually weare euery day: but amongst these that are so af­fected, how many do we sée, which are no whit afraide to come to the holy Table, béeing as yet full and foule with the former nights surfetting, gurmandizing and drunken­nesse? It is forbidden by humane constitution, that no person that is base borne, lame, or poreblind shal be admit­ted to the holy Ministrie: and here how strict are w [...]? And yet in the meane time we admit euerie where, such as bée vnlearned, gamsters, drunkards, souldiers, cutters, and ruffians. They will say perhaps, they know not the dis­eases of the minde: but I speake not of secret defects, I speake of such as are more open in the view of al men, then the defects of the bodie be.

Againe, there be great ones that make no bones (as the saying is) of oppressing the liberties, and priuiledges of ec­clesiasticallDeuourers of Church lands which were first giuen to the vse of the poore. persons, neither yet of ioyning vnto their own houses, such houses as are part of the Churches inheri­tance, and were giuen by the deuotion and liberalitie of godly and well disposed persons, for the relieuing of such as are aged, and sicke, and poore & néedy in the Parish. And yet they séeme vnto themselues very great Christians, if they can rage, and play the mad men against such as omit a ceremonie, leaue out a Collect, or obserue not euerie holy day, or holy day euen, and the like.

Bu.

Well, let them go, and leaue them to the Lord, who will méete with such hypocrites well inough. Let vs now talke of fish and flesh another while.

Fish.

With a good will. Let vs returne then to our formerOf fasting & fish-eating. speach of fasting, and fish-eating. I haue heard that the lawes of the church do expressely except children, old folks, sicke persons and weake, great labourers, women with child, giuing sucke, and very féeble.

[Page]But.

And the same haue I also often heard.

Fish.

I haue also heard of an excellent Diuine, Gerson I thinke his name is, that hath added this, that if there bée any cause of the like moment, with those which the canons of the Church do except by name, that then also the force of the law doth cease. For there be peculiar habites of states of mens bodies, which do make the restraint of meat more daungerous than an euident disease. And there be secret diseases which yet do not appeare, which in truth may bée so much the more dangerous. And they which compel chil­dren, or very old folkes, or sicke and féeble persons, either to taste, or to eate fish, doe commit a double sinne, first against brotherly charitie: Secondly, against the mind and mea­ning of the Church, which would not haue them wrapped in a law, which cannot keepe it without their owne de­struction, or danger.

Whatsoeuer Christ did institute, he instituted it to the health both of soule and bodie, neither can any potentate chalenge vnto himselfe so great power, as that by his con­stitutions he may driue any persons to endaunger their liues. As if one by fasting one night, should not be able to sleepe, and for want of sleepe, should be in danger of a fren­zie: he that shal driue a man to this inconuenience, is (both against the minde of the Church, and against the will of God) a murtherer of his neighbor. Princes so often as they sée cause, do make lawes to punish men by death: whatPrinces may punish by death. they may do I do not define; this I thinke I may say, that they should deale more safely, if they did not punish any by death, but for such causes as are expressed in the holy scrip­tures. In heynous crimes, the Lord doth call men away from the vttermost bond of circumstance that may leade thereunto, as in the case of periurie, he forbiddeth to swear at all; to kéepe men from murther, he forbids men to be an­grie. We for a humane constitution doe driue men to the vttermost bound or verie point of manflaughter. But so of­ten as there appeareth any probable cause, it is the part of charitie to exhort our neighbours, vnto those things which [Page] the weakenesse of his bodie doth require. And if there ap­peare n [...] cause, yet it is the dutie of christian charitie, fa­uourably to interpret the matter, that it might be done with a good minde, vnlesse he that wil eate, shall shew ther­in a manifest contempt of the lawes. And such as shall con­temptuously, and seditiously, eate any thing that is forbid­den by law, the ciuill Magistrate doth iustly punish. But what euery man may eate in his own house, for the health of his bodie, it is for Physitians, and not for Magistrates to determine.

But if hereupon also any shall be so wicked as to raise any tumult, let him be guiltie of sedition, and not he that prouideth for his bodily health, not breaking either Gods law or mans law. And such is the lenitie and moderation of the Church of Christ, that vpon good cause, they will of their owne accord stirre vp men to vse such things as the health of their bodie shall require, and which their licences or charters wil also arme men against the accusations and backbitings of ill disposed persons.

It may be called zeale, if any man shall deale seuere­ly with his owne body, for euerie man is best knowne vnto himselfe; but where is the pietie, or where is the cha­ritie of these men, who contrarie to the law of nature, con­trarie to the law of God, and contrarie to the meaning of the Church, would enforce their weak brother vnto death, or to some kinde of disease more cruell than death it selfe?

But.

Your speach makes me to remember a storie of [...]neM [...]unsier Eros. Mounsier Eros, a learned man, and now verie old, he would neuer eate any flesh vpon Fridayes, nor in Lent, and yet by reason of diuerse infirmities that vexed him, he had a li­cence or dispensation from the Bishoppe to eate what hée would. This Mounsier Eros for his health [...]ake, went on a time to Feruentia, and I in kindnesse bare him companie. Being come to Feruentia, he turned into the house of an old friend of his, who had often by letters inuited him thither. This friend of his was a man of great wealth, and autho­ritie. [Page] He came to a fish dinner, but Eros began to be verie daungerously [...]icke, there was an armie of diseases vppon him, the ague, the headach, vomiting, the stone, &c. This host, although he saw his friend in great daunger, yet durst not giue him one bit of flesh. And why thinke you? he saw causes inough why he might lawfully doe it, and he had séene the Bishops dispensation, but he feared the tongues of men. And now the disease was growne so farre vppon him, that it was in vaine to giue him any.

Fish.

What did Mounsier Eros? I know the nature of the man, he had rather die, then to doe any thing that might procure his friend any enuie.

But.

He shut himselfe into his Chamber, and for three dayes togither he liued after his olde maner: his dinner was an Egge onely; his drinke was water boyled with Sugar. So soone as the Ague had left him, he took his horse, and carried his diet with him.

Fish.

What was that?

But.

Almond milke in a Flagon Bottle, and Raisins in the Sunne in a Bagge. When he came at home, he had a [...]itte of the stone, and hee kept his bedde for it a whole moneth togither. Now because he did eate euery day an Egge at his friends house, there followed a horrible ru­mour after his departure of eating of flesh, and in that furious manner it was aggrauated, as if he had poysoned te [...]ne men, and this rumor was spread as farre as Paris: What doe you thinke to be the fittest remedy against such offences?

Fish.

The best remedie that I know, is this, let them powre all their chamber pots vpon their heads, and if they chaunce to méete you, stoppe your nose vntill you are past them, it may be that so they may be ashamed of their fol­lie.

But.

Certainely Preachers shal doe wel, sharpely to reprooue this Pharisaicall impietie. But what thinke you of that hoste?

Fish.

He séemed to be a wise man, who knew full well [Page] what Tragedies vpon friuolous occasions would be [...] by the foolish people. But it is now time to returne from this long digression, to our former purpose.

But.

There is no losse of time in this digression, it is to the purpose, vnlesse perhappes you haue any thing else to adde to that which hath béene sayd already concerning hu­mane constitutions.

Fish.

Truly, to mée it séemeth that hée is not a right ob­seruerThe end why mens lawes are made must be considered. of mens lawes, which doth negl [...]ct the meaning & drift of the lawe-makers: for hée that vpon holy dayes ab­staineth from handy labour, and yet in the meane time is not at leisure to heare Sermons, and to ioyne with the con­gregation in the exerc [...]es of Gods worshipp [...], [...]oth neglect the chiefest thing for which the festiuall day was institu­ted: for therefore is one good worke then forbidden, that a better might be doone in his stéede: but they which leaue their ordinary businesse, onely to haunt tauerns, and har­lots houses, to fight and brawle, to be great drinkers, and riotous, &c. they are double violaters of the holy festiuall day.

But.

And I knowe diuers which woulde choose, rather to die, than to minister the Sacrament, if by chaunce they had tasted any mea [...]e that morning, or if but one droppe of water (while they wash their mouth) should chaunce to slippe downe their throate. And yet the same persons haue confessed, that at the same instant they haue carried some priuy grudge against certaine persons, whom they would haue killed, if fit oportunitie would haue serued, neyther did they make any scruple or doubt to come to the holy ta­ble of the Lord with this bloody minde.

Fishm.

And as prepostereus are men in their iudge­mentsVowes. concerning vowes. There is no vowe more reli­gious than that of baptisme. Now he that hath vowed a monasticall life &c. and afterward vpon iust cau [...]e changeth his garment, or his place, is sought for as if hée had poyso­ned his father, he is apprehended; haled, and pulled, impri­sond, and bound, & many times put to death for the honour [Page] of his order. But they whose life is directly contrary vnto the vowe which they made in baptisme, while they giu [...] Vow of Bap­tisme. themselues wholy to serue mammon, their belly, and the pompe of this worlde, they are had in great accompt, ney­ther are these men charged with the crime of violating their vow, neither are they accompted apostataes, or back sliders, but good christians.

But.

He is punished, that (being mooued by some vr­gentFalse oathes. cause) dooth sweare a false oath, but they that mingle euery third word with a false oath, are not punished.

Fish.

These doe not sweare of set purpose, or in good ear­nest.

But.

By the like reason you may excuse him that killes a man, so hee did it not in earnest, or of sette purpose. To sweare a false oath is not lawfull, either in ieast or earnest. And it is a more hainous crime to kill a man in ieast, than in anger. What infamy dooth pursue a maide that hath slipt aside, but a slaunderous and backbiting tongue, with a heart fraught with hatred and malice or a greater euill, and yet no body woondreth at them: there is no lawe foradulterie and The [...]t. them. Where is not the lightest theft punished more se­u [...]rely than adultery? No man will willingly conuerse with one that is stained with the infamie of theft: but to be familiar with one that is loa [...]en and couered ouer with a­dulteries is a great credite, and a point of good neighbour­hoode accompted. No man will bestowe his daughter vp­onA [...], a common sol­d [...]r. a common hangman, which for his stipend dooth exe­cute the lawes, but we do like well to haue affinitie with a common souldier, which hath often against the will both of the parents and magistrates serued in a mercenarie warre, which hath bin defiled with so many whoredoms, rapes, sacrileges, murthers, & other most hainous crimes, which either in the wars themselues, or in going to them, or returning from them, are wont to be committed, such a one doe we make choise of to be our sonne in lawe: such a one that is worse than any hangman doth a virgine doate vpon, and that we accompt great nobilitie that i [...] g [...]ten [Page] by mischiefe and villanie. Hée that taketh away a mans mony, is hanged, but that they by purloyning the commonThieues. stocke of Churches and towneships, by monopolies, by v­suries▪ yea by a thousand wiles, and deceitfull trickes d [...]e spoyle many, are reckoned amongst the chiefe men of the parish.

Fish.

So, they that giue poison to some one person, arePoyso [...]ers. punished by the lawes as a poysoner, but they that infect and kil the people with infected wines and corrupted oiles, are lawlesse.

But.

I haue knowne some Monkes so superstitio [...]s,Superstitious Monk [...]s. that they would thinke themselues in the handes of the [...], if by chaunce their holy vesture were left off, but al­though they giue themselues to lying, and slaundering, to drunkennesse and enuie, they feare no such matter.

Fish.

And such ideotes a man may finde amongest vsFo [...]lish armor agenst the di­uell. many, who do not thincke their house safe from the power of the diuell, and malice of witches, and wicked spirites, vnlesse they haue consecrated holy water, or a holy candle, or a horse shooe nailed vpon their thresholde, but they feare not their houses wherein daily God is prouoked by so ma­ny meanes, and the diu [...]ll is daily worshipped.

But.

And howe many are there that trust more to the helpe of the virgine Marie, or of Saint Christopher, than of Christ himselfe. The m [...]ther of Christ they worship with candles, images, and songs, but Christ himselfe they doe most obstinately and stowtly offend with their wicked liues. And for such trifles as these and others that we haue spoken of, how great breach is there of brotherly charitie? how bitter hatred and hart-burning? what virulent back­biting and traducing of mens names? Against which, both Christ in the Gospel, and Paul in his Epistles doe vehe­mently inueigh: And which all Diuines and Preachers should strongly beate downe.

Fish.

Indéede it [...] [...] so: but there be ma [...]y amon­gest them, who h [...] [...]ather haue the people, and prin­ces, and bishops at that passe, than otherwise. And againe, [Page] ther be which do no more sauor or vnderstand these things than the common people doeth, or if they doe vnderstand them, they dissemble their knowledge, taking more care for the belly than for the Lorde Iesus. Héereupon it com­meth to passe that the people being on euery side corrupted with preposterous iudgements, are confident where there is cause to feare, and afraide where there is no daunger. There they stand at a stay, where they ought to goe for­ward, and there they march forward, from whence they ought to retire. And from these so ill taught, if a manne shoulde attem [...]t to plucke any thing away of their olde cu­stomes, they would crie out that hee is a raiser of se [...]ition: as if it were sedition for a man, by good medicines, to re­claime or purge a bodie corrupted, which vnskilfull Phy­sitians haue had long in handling, and brought to a natu­rall habite of corruption. But it is time to breake [...]ff this complaint which hath no end.

But.

As I was lately reasoning of these matters at sup­pe [...], by ill hap there was a certaine fellow in presence that was lowsie, ragged, pale, lanke, drie, and with a withered erabtree face very ghastly, he had scarce thrée haires vpon his scull, so often as hée spake he shut his [...]ies, they said hée was a diuine: he called mée a disciple of Autichrist, and many other things he babbled out.

Fish.

What saide you? were you mute?

But.

I wished h [...]e might haue one mite of a sober mind in so filthy a braine, i [...] he had any braine at all.

FINIS.

Naufragium A pittifull, yet pleasant Dialogue of a Shipwracke, shewing what comfort Popery affoordeth in time of daunger.

The speakers names.
  • Antonius,
  • Adolphus.
Antonius.

YOu tell me horrible things Adolphus, of your sea voyage, is this to be a Mariner? God kéep [...] me from going to sea.

Adol.

Yea, that I haue told you bitherto, is [...] sport to these things you shal now heare.

[...].

I haue h [...]ard of euills more then enow, I trem­bled al [...] the ti [...]e you were reciting them, as if my selfe had béene in danger with you.

Adol.

But to me my labours past were ple [...]sing enough. But that night there happened a certaine thing, which for [...] great part of the night, tooke away all hope of life from the Maister of the ship.

Anto.

What I pray you?

Adol.

The night was somewhat light, and in the top of the maste stoode one of the ma [...]iners in the basket (for so I thinke they cal it) looking about to see if he could spie any land: fast by this man beganne to stand a certaine round thing like a bal of fire, which (when it appeareth alone) is to the ship­me [...] [Page] a most feareful signe of hard successe, but when two of them doe appeare together, that is a signe of a prosperous voyage. These apparitions were called in old time Castor and Pollux.

Anto.

What had they to doe with sea-men, being one of them a Horse-man, the other a Champion, or stowt war­rior?

Adol.

So the P [...]ets did feigne. The Pilot of the ship sit­ting at the sterne, said to him that was aloft; fellow (for so doe the ship-men call one another) doost thou not sée what a com­panion stands by thy side? I sée it (said the other) and I pray God it [...]e for good: By and by the f [...]ery globe sliding downe by the ropes, tumbled it selfe [...]ntil it came to the Maister of the ship.

Anto.

Did he not die with feare?

Adol.

No, Mariners are accustomed to monsters. It ha­uing [...]ayed th [...]re a while, it roled it selfe along the brimmes of the ship, and [...] from thence downe into the middle roomes, it vanished away. About mid-night the tempest beganne to increase more and mor [...]: did you euer sée the Alpes?

Anto.

Yes, [...] haue séene them.

A [...]ol.

Those mountaines are but hillockes in comparison of the waues of the sea: so often as we were heaued vp with them, we might haue touched the Moone with our fingers; so often as wee went downe againe, it s [...]emed vnto vs as though the earth had opened, and we had béene going directly to hell.

Anto.

O madm [...]n that commit themselues to the sea!

Adol.

The mariners striuing with the tempest, but all in vaine, at length the Maister of the ship came vnto vs very pale.

Anto.

That palenesse doth presage some great euil.

Adol.

My friends (quoth he) I can be no longer Maister of my ship, the windes haue gotten the vpper hand, it remai­neth now, that we commit our selues vnto God, and euery man to prepare himselfe for extreamity.

[Page]A [...]to.

O right Scy [...]hian sermon!

Adol.

But first (quoth hee) the ship must be disburdened, necessity hath no law, a sore weapon it is, there is no remea­dy, better it is to saue our liues, with the losse of our goods, than to lose both goods and life together. The truth pr [...]uai­led, many vessels were throwne ouer into the sea, ful of rich marchandise.

Anto.

This was indéede to suffer wracke.

Adol.

There was a certaine Italian in the ship, who hadOf an Italian. gone Ambassador to the King of Scots, hee had a chest ful of plate, gold rings, cloth, and silke apparel.

Anto.

He would not bestow them vpon the sea.

Adol.

No, but desired either to perish with his beloued ri­ches, or to be saued with them. Therefore he was somewhat wilful, and stoode against the rest.

Anto.

What said the ship-maister?

Adol.

We could be wel content (quoth hee) that thou, and that thou hast, should perish together: but it is not fit that all we should be in danger for the sauing of thy chest: if you wil not be ruled, we wil throw both you and your chest hed-long together into the sea.

Anto.

A right mariners oration.

Adol.

So the Italian lost his goods, wishing all euil bothA sorry re­uenge. to the heauens and the hells, for that hee had committed his life to so barbarous an element.

Anto.

I know that is the manner of Italians.

Adol.

A little while after, when we saw that the windes rage [...] more and more, and we had done what we could, they cut the ropes, and cast the sailes ouer-boord.

Anto.

O miserable calamity!

Adol.

Then the Maister came to vs againe, friends (quoth he) the time doth exhorte euery man to commend himselfe to God, and to prepare himselfe for to die. He was asked of cer­taine, who were not altogether ignorant of seafaring, for how many houres he thought the ship might defend it selfe, he said that he could promise nothing, but aboue thrée houres hée said it was not possible.

[Page]Anto.

This spéech was yet harder then the rest.

Ad.

When he had so said, he commanded al the ropes to be cut, and the maine-maste to be sawen downe close by the boxe wherein it stood, and together with the saile-yardes to be cast ouer boord into the sea.

Anto.

Why did he so?

Adol.

B [...]cause (the saile being gone or torne) it serued to no vs [...], but to burthen the ship: all their hope was in the st [...]rne or rudd [...]r.

An.

What did the passengers & shipmen in the mean time?

Adol.

[...]here you should haue seene a miserable face of things, the mariners singing Salue regina, they cried to theSa [...]ue regina. Uirgine Mary for help, they called her, the star of the Sea, the Quéen of Heauen, the Lady of the world, the hauen of Helth,Poore shifts. fl [...]ttering her with many other titles which the holy Scrip­tures neuer gaue her.

Anto.

What had she to doe with the sea, that I thinke ne­uer went to sea in all her life?

Adol.

Venus had sometimes the charge of mariners, because she was thought to be borne of the sea: and because she g [...]ue ouer her cure, the Uirgin mother was substituted in her stéed, which was a mother, but no virgine.

Anto.

Now you iest.Ridiculous superstition.

Adol.

Many falling flat vpon the b [...]ordes, did worship the sea, crying; O most gentle Sea, O most noble Sea, O most rich Sea, O most faire S [...]a, be qui [...]t, saue vs: and thus they cried to the deaf [...] s [...]a.

Anto.

O ridiculous superstition! what did others?

Ad.

Some did not [...]ing but vomite, and some made vowes. There was a certaine Englishman, who promised golden mountaines to his Lady of Wa [...]singham, if euer he came safe to land. Others promised many things to a woodden crosse that stood at such a place: and others to another that stoode in ano­place. The like vowes were made to the Uirgin Mary, which raigneth in many places, and they thinke th [...]ir vow of no ef­fect, except they name the place.

Ant.

A iest, as though the Saints did not dwel in heauen.

[Page]Adol.

There were that vowed to become Carthus [...]ans. Ther [...] was one who vowed to go to St. Iames of Compostella, barefooted, and bare headed, with nothing vpon his bodie but a [...]hirt of male, and begge for vittailes.

Anto.

Did none remember S. Christopher?

Adol:

Yes, I heard one (but I could not forbeare laughing) promise Saint Christopher, which standes in the great Church at Paris, a waxe Candle as bigge as himselfe. Now this Chri­stopher is rather a mountaine than an Image, and this he cried out as loude as euer he could, for feare he should not be heard, and this he often repeated. One of his acquaintance that by chaunce stoode next vnto him, pulled him by the s [...]éeue, and warned him to take héede what he said: for (said he) if you should make sale of all that you haue, you are not able to pay your vow. Then the other with a lowde voyce (lest Christo­pher should heare him) said, hold thy peace fool, dost thou thinkSaint Chri­stopher like to be cousened of a [...]. that I speake as I meane, or meane as I say? If once I get to land I will not giue him a tallow Candle.

Anto.

O grosse wit, I thinke he was a Hollander.

Adol.

No, but he was a Zeland [...]r.

Anto.

I maruaile that none remembred Paul the Apostle, who himselfe was sometime at sea, and suffered shipwracke, and out [...] a broken ship swanune to land he hauing béene in daunger himsel [...]e, would perhappes haue pittied others that were in daunger.

Adol.

There was no me [...]tion of Paul.

Anto.

But they prayed in the meane time, did they not?

Adol.

Yes, that they did, striuing who should do best. One sung, Salue Regina; another sung, Credo in Deum; There were some that had certaine speciall short prayers, like charmes a­gainst daungers.

An.

How religious men are in affliction: in time of prosperi­tie, m [...]n thinke neither vpon God, nor any godly man, what did you all this while? Did y [...]u vow to no Saint?

Adol.

No surely, because I make no couenaunt with Saints, [...]or what is it else but a formall contract, or bargain? I will giue you this, if you will doe that for me: I will giue [Page] you a Candle, if I may swimme to land.

Anto.

But you craued the aide of some Saint: Did you not?

Adol.

Not I, for heauen is large. And if I should com­mend [...] [...] next he doore. my safetie to any of the Saints, suppose it were to saint Peter, who peraduenture would be the first that should heare, because he standeth at the doore, before he could come to God, yea before he could declare my cause, I should be drowned.

Anto.

What did you then?

Adol.

I went directly to God himselfe, and said, Our father which art in heauen, &c. None of the Saints doe heare sooner than he, nor more willingly giue vs that which we aske.

Anto.

But did not your conscience fight against you? were you not afraide to call him Father, whom you had so manie wayes offended?

Adol.

Truly to deale plainly, my conscience did somwhat terrifie me, but presently I gathered courage vnto me, thin­king thus with my selfe, there is no father so angry with his so [...]ne, but (if he sée him in the riuer and in daunger of drow­ning) will take him by the haire of the head, or else where, as he may, and pull him to land. Amongst all the rest, there wasOf a woman with hir child none more quiet, and frée from feare, then a certaine woman, who had an Infant sucking vpon her breast: she neit [...]er cried out, nor wept, nor made any vow, shée onely embracing her tender Infant, prayed softly to her selfe. In the meane time, the ship rushed vpon a shallow, and the Maister fearing lest it would be split all in péeces, he bound it together with Cables, from the foredocke to the sterne.

Anto.

O miserable shifts.

Adol.

In the meane time there stands vp a certaine MasseOf an old▪ Pr [...]est. Priest, an old man, about thrée score, he casting off all his cloathes to his verie shirt, togither with his bootes and shooes, wished all the rest in like mann [...]r to prepare themselues to swimme. And so standing in the middest of the ship, he prea­ched vnto vs out of Gerson▪ of the vtilitie of auricular Confes­sion, exhorting vs, that euerie one of vs should prepare him­selfe both to liue and die. And there was a certaine Domini­can [Page] Frier: to these two they didde confesse themselues [...]hat [...]isted.

Anto.

What did you?

Adol.

I, (séeing all so full of tumult) secretly confessed my selfe vnto God, condemning before him my vnrighteousnesse, and crauing his mercie in Christ.

Anto.

Whither should you haue gone, if you had so died?

Adol.

That I committed vnto God my iudge, for I would not be my owne iudge: yet in the meane wh [...]le I was of good comfort. While these things were thus in doing, the Master of the ship came againe vnto vs wéeping, and said, let euerie man shift now for him selfe, for we are not like to haue anie vse of the ship a quarter o [...] an houre, for it being torne in cer­taine places, the water came in apace. Within a little while after, the Master tolde vs that he had spied a holy Tower, or a Church, wishing vs to call for helpe vnto that Saint that was patrone of that Church. All fell downe and prayed vnto an vnknowne Saint.

Anto.

If you had called him by his name, he would ha [...]e heard you.

Adol.

No man knew his name. In the meane time the Pi­lot as much as lay in him, did guide the ship that way, which was now torne and rent, and leaking on euery side, and had fallen all to péeces, if it had not beene bound togither with Cables.

Anto.

Things were now at a hard passe.

Adol.

We were driuen so neare, that the inhabitants o [...] that place might sée vs, and in what daunger we were. They came running out by heapes vnto the shoare, and holding vp their cloakes, and their hats vpon poles did inuite vs to come vnto them. And casting vp their armes towards heauen, did thereby signifie how much they did bewaile our hard fortune.

Anto.

I listen for an end, to heare what successe you had.

Adol.

By this time the ship was full of water, and we were no safer in the ship then in the sea. The Mariners emptied the ship boate of water, and put it out to the sea: into that boate all endeuoured to goe, all the Marriners crying out with great [Page] tumulte, that the boate was not able to holde such a multi­tude: let euery man (said they) get what hée can and swimme out. There was no time t [...] [...]ske long counsell, one [...]ooke an oare, another a qu [...]nt, ano [...]her the [...] of the [...], one gat a b [...]ket, another a table, and euery man with such as hée could g [...]t, committed themselues to the waues.

An.

[...] became in the meane time of that same woman that was so quiet?

Adol.

She was the first that came to the sheare: [...]or we had put her vpon a broade table, and had made her so [...]ast vnto it, that shée could not easily fall off, and we put alittle boord into her hand, which [...]he might vse in steade of an oare, and so b [...]d­ding her farewell, wée thrust her off with a quant, that shée might be frée from the shippe, where was all the daunger.

Ant.

O couragious woman▪

Adol.

When nothing was now left, one plucked downe a woodden image that was there of the virgine Marie, that was rotten, and eaten hollow with rattes, and hauing gotten that i [...] his armes, he began to swimme.

Ant.

The boate came safe to shoare, did it not?

Adol.

That was the first that was drowned, with thirtie p [...]rsons in it: for before it could get frée from the great ship, with the wauing and wallowing of the shippe, it was ouer­throwne.

A [...]t.

O hard hap, what then?

Adol.

While I gaue counsell to others, I had like to haue perished my s [...]lfe, for there was nothing left that was good for swimming.

Ant.

[...] here corke would haue done good seruice, if one had had it.

Adol.

In such a straite. I had rather haue a péece of vile corke, than a golden candlesticke: while I was looking about for a thing to swimme vpon, at the last I remembred the low­er end of the maste. And because I could not p [...]ll it vp alone,One more than was loo­ked for. I tooke another vnto me, we▪lying both vpon that, committe [...] our selues to the sea, so as I held by the right horne, and he by the left. While wée were thus tossed, and putting off from [Page] [...]he shippe, that same masse Prie [...]t that preached to [...]he Mari­ners threw himselfe in the middest vpon our shoulders. And hée was not very light, for hée had a bigge body. We cryed out, who is that third? he will cast vs all away: but he aun­swered vs somewhat [...]héerefully, Be of good chéere, héere i [...] rowme inough for vs, God will be with vs.

A [...]to.

What became of the Dominican Friar?

Adol.

He hauing called vpon the Saints, cast away all his [...]pparrell, and betooke himselfe naked to swimming.

Ant.

What Saints did hée pray vnto?

Adol.

Saint Dominicke, saint Thomas, saint Vincent, and S. Peter, but his chiefest trust was in saint Katharine of Sene.

Ant.

Did hée not call vpon Christ?

Adol.

Not that I could learne.

Ant.

He might haue swomme out the better, if hée had not cast away his holy koole: but when that was gone, how could saint Katharine know him? but go forward to tell of your self.

Adol.

While wée were tossed and tumbled hither and thi­ther by the shippe side, the Rudder of the ship chaunced to hit him that held by the left corner of the Maste, and brake his thigh, so hée let goe his holde and fell off. The priest praying God to send him eternall rest, tooke his place, exhorting mée with great courage to hold fast my corner & to stirre my féete lustily. In the meane time wee drunke in a great deale of salt water: but the priest taught mée a remedie against it.

Ant.

What was that I pray you?

Adol.

So often as any waue came toward vs, hée woulde turne his noddle against it with his mouth close.

Ant.

A strong olde man.

Adol.

When wée had by swimming in this manner gone some way, the Priest being a wonderfull tall man, saide vnto me, Be of a good chéere man, I féele the botome. But I durst not hope for so great happinesse, we are further (quoth I) from the land than to hope for any bottome. Nay (quoth he) I féele the ground with my féete. P [...]raduenture it is (said I) some chest that the sea hath rolled hi [...]her. Nay (saide he) I doe plainely féele the ground with my fingers. When we had [Page] swumme alittle longer, and hée againe had felt the bottome. Doe you (quoth hée) what you thinke best to be done, I giu [...] you all the maste, and I will betake my selfe wholy to the ground: and withall, when he sawe the billow go from him, he ran after it as fast as euer he could. And when the billowe came againe, he clasping both his hands together about both his knées, he stroue with all his might against the waues, hi­ding himselfe vnder them as Cormorants and Duckes vse to doe when they diue vnder the water. And when the billowe was past him againe, he set forward and ranne. I (séeing him to spéede so well) followed him. There stoode on the shoare some strong men, and vsed to the sea, which with long poales did strengthen themselues against the waues, so as the hin­dermost of them could reach his pole vnto him that coulde swimme, and so by that means diuers were drawen to shore, and saued.

Anto.

How many?

Adol.

Seauen, but of them twoo died so soone as they came to the fire: there were in the shippe 58. but when wée came to land there, we had experience of the countrey mens kinde­nesse, which indéede was incredible, who with wonderfull spéede and chéerefuluesse, prouided for vs lodging, fire, meate, apparrell, and all necessaries for our iourney.

Ant.

What countrey was that?

Adol.

It was Holland.

Ant.

There is no nation in the world more kinde and full of humanitie then they be, and yet they are compassed about with cruell and barbarous nations. But I beléeue you will not go to sea againe in haste.

Adol.

I doe not meane it, vnlesse God shall depriue me of my wittes.

Ant.

And I had rather heare such tales, than make triall of them: but thankes be to God that hath preserued you, and I hope you will be the better for this to him-ward while you liue.

Adol.

God graunt I may.

FINIS.

A very excellent Dialogue betweene a good Woman and a Shrew, shewing how a Woman may win her Hus­bands loue, though he be neuer so froward.

The Speakers names.
  • Eulalia
  • Xantippe.
Eulalia.

GOd saue you, my most desired Xantippe.

Xan.

And you also, my most deare Eulalia, we thinke you look fairer than you were wont to do.

Eul.

What, doe you receiue me with a scoffe at the first dash?

Xan.

No truely, but so you séeme indéede to me.

Eul.

It may be that my new apparell doth make me looke better than I was wont.

Xan.

You coniecture very right, for I sawe none more fine a great while, I thinke your gowne be of English cloth, is it not?

Eul.

It is English wooll, but of Venice die.

Xan.

It is softer than silke, but how pleasant a colour is this purple? who I pray bestowed such an excellent gift vpon you?

Eul.

Where should honest women haue such things but of their husbands?

Xantip.

O you are happy that haue mette with such a hus­band, I would I had béene married to a mushrome when I was married to my Nicholas.

[Page]Eul.

Why so I pray you? are you so soone fallen out?

Xan.

I shall neuer agrée with such a one as he is: you sée how ragged I am, so doth he suffer his wife to goe. Let mée die if I be not ashamed to goe abroad when I sée how well o­ther women be clad, whose husbandes are farre y [...]rer tha [...] mine.

Eul.

The grace and decking of matrons is not in apparell▪ or in other kinde of trimming vp of the body, (as Saint Pe­ter the Apostle dooth teach vs,) but in chaste and modest be­hauiour, and in the ornaments of the minde: harlots are set foorth to please many mens eyes, we be fine enough, if wée may please our husbands onely.

Xan.

But in the meane time, my good man that is so spa­ring toward his wife, doth spend lustily of that portion which he had with me when I was maried, and that was no mea [...]e portion.

Eul.

Wherein?

Xan.

In what he thinketh good, in wine, in harlots, an [...] in play.

Eul.

Good wordes Xantippe.

Xan.

But so it is, and more than that, when he commeth home drunke at midnight, he lieth snorting all night, and ma­ny times he berayeth his bed with vomiting, Ile kéep the rest.

Eul.

Fie, fie, you discredite your selfe when you discredite your husband.

Xan.

I would I were hanged if I had not rather lie with a [...]ow that hath pigges, than with such a husband.

Eul.

Doe not you chide at him when hée comes home?

Xan.

Euen as he is worthy, he finds that I am not dumb.

Eul.

And what doth he then?

Xan.

At the first he tooke on gréeuously, thinking to shift me off with hote wordes.

Eul.

Did he neuer grow from words to blowes?

Xan.

Ouely at one time, the contention was so hotte be­twéene vs, that it was not farre from blowes: he shaked his [...]udgel at me, thundring at me with cruel clamors, and thret­ning spéeches.

[Page]Eul.

And were not you afraide of him?

Xan.

Afraid, faith fir no: but whatsoere I was, I set a good face on the matter, I got a thrée footed stoole into my hands: if he had but touched me with his finger, he should well hau [...] knowne that I had not bin lame in my hands.

Eul.

A new kinde of buckler indéede, you wanted a buck­led girdle for a launce.

Xa.

He should haue found a virago of me, I warrant him.

Eul.

Ah my Xantippe, this doth not becom [...] you.

Xant.

What becomes me not? if he doe not count of me as his wife, neither wil I account of him as my husband.

Eul.

But saint Paul doth teach, that wiues ought to sub­mit themselues to their husbands with all reuerence. And sai [...]t Peter doth propound vnto vs the example of Sarah, who called her husband Abraham, her lord.

Xa.

I know that wel enough: but the same Paul doth teach also, that men ought to loue their wiues, as Christ loued the Church his Spouse: let him do his duety, and Ile doe mine.

Eul.

But for all that, when the matter is growne to that passe, that one must yéeld, it is fittest that the wife should yéeld vnto her husband.

Xant.

Shall I call him husband that taketh me for his ser­uant? *]All that fol­low [...]th after this marke * til you come vnto the like marke againe is not in Eras­mus.

Eul.

Ah my good Xantippe, though you be his wife, yet you must not thinke scorne to serue him, for you gaue him your promise before God and his church, that you would obey him, and thereunto pledged your troth.

Xant.

What, must he haue me at commandement? his ser­ [...]ant can be no more.

Eul.

Surely wée must be at our husband [...]s commaunde­ments, if we be, we must obey our husbands, for euen our band of obedience doth argue a certaine soueraignetie and po­wer in them ouer vs, whereby they may commaund vs anie honest and lawfull thing. And [...] that, Almightie God himselfe hath set it downe for a lawe, that our desires shall bée subiect to the desires of our hus [...]ds.

Xa.

Whats that? I know not [...]he ma [...]ning of these words.

[Page]Eula.

Yes Xantippe, you know it well enough, but perhaps you list not know it, because you like it not, the meaning is plaine, that we must not desire any thing that standes not with our husbands liking: and whatsoeuer they affect & like, that must we like and obey.

Xant.

I promise you I d [...] not like, that there should bée no difference betweene me and my seruaunt with my husband, by that reckoning you would haue my husband to be my mai­ster, as he is ouer his seruant, I like not that.

Eula.

No, I knew that well enough: for by nature wé [...] cannot abide subiection of all things, we desire to bear [...]rule, vntill God shall (by his grace) regenerate our hearts, and giue vs humble spirits.

Xant.

I hope I am regenerate, and haue the grace of God, though I suffer not my husband to be my maister.

Eula.

Therein you deceiue your selfe: for if we be truly re­generate, and borne anew by the spirit of grace, we will ne­uer think much to submit our selues to the ordinance of God, who hath set it downe, that we must be in subiection to our husbands.

Xant.

That is true indéed: but by Gods ordinance I am his wife, and not his seruant.

Eula.

Yes Xantippe, therefore you ought to serue him, be­cause you are his wise, or else, when you were married vnto him, why did you make him such a solemne promise of obedi­ence: and for the performaunce thereof, pawne your troth? Now if we make no conscience of such a solemne promise, whereunto God, and Gods Angels, and Gods Church, are witnesses; then is our tr [...]th forfeyted, and we are to be helde for false creatures, neither is any word that euer we speake to be held of any credite.

Xant.

Well, yet for all that, he should vse me as his wife, and not as his seruant.

Eula.

Oh that word seruant sticketh sore in your stomack, but marke, my good Xantippe, of seruants there be two sorts, bond seruants, and frée seruants: now though you are to serue and obey your husband, yet it is not the nature of a bond or [Page] hired seruant that serueth onely for wages, but as a frée ser­uant, and his fellow, and so long as we willingly submit ourWhat mane [...] of seruants vviues are to their husbāds. selues vnto this ordinance of God, our seruice is no bondage, but a fréedome, for we are frée of our husbands, & all that they haue, and are to receiuè from them againe all maintenance, and protection, familiaritie, and comfort, which fréedome and priuiledge no hired or bond seruant can looke for at his mai­sters hands.

Xant.

If we be frée, then are they not to command vs.

Eula.

Not so, good friend, now you mis-take: for though we be frée of our husbands, & all that they haue, that is, of bed, and boord, and familiarity, and maintenance from them, yet it doth not follow, that therefore we must not obey them, or that we may be our owne caruers of that which they haue at our ple­sure, and whether they will or no.

Xant.

If we be frée (as you say we are) why may we not be our own caruers? or why should we be cōmanded as seruāts?

Eula.

Because we are vnder a law, which hath made vs subiect to their power and authoritie. For though a man bée a noble man, and a Lord, and hath tenants vnder him, yet is he also a subiect, and must obey his Prince, as one that liueth vnder a law: and yet though a Lord, or a fréeholder are to o­bey the law, and to doe seruice for their Prince, yet are they not in the nature of the Princes hired seruants, or bond ser­uants, which are daily about him, and take wages, but are as frée subiects, and do enioy their goods and lands, &c. vnder the Princes protection, and liue in great liberty, and are called by their Prince with swéet words of great loue, & princely kind­nesse; as, our louing subiects, and sometimes, our trustie & wel­beloued, if they be of their Councell, but not, our louing ser­uants: so they write to those that are of their houshold and serue for wages. And so a wife, though she is [...]o serue her hus­band, as his subiect, yet he doth not therefore call her his ser­uant, but both in writing and speaking, calleth her his belo­ued wife, or his trustie, and deare beloued spouse, &c. And to me this is a cleare case.

Xan.

This is more (I confesse) than euer I heard, or cōside­red [Page] of in all my life, & I will find a time to consider better of it.

Eula.

In so doing, you shall do well. *] But tell me, my Xantippe, afterward your husband left threatning to beat you, did he not?

Xant.

Yes that he did, and was the wiser man for that, or else he would haue beene beaten himselfe.

Eula.

But you did not giue ouer brawling with him.

Xant.

No, nor neuer will, if he giue me cause.

Eula.

That is not well spoken, for we must beare: but what doth he in the meane time while you chide and brawle?

Xant.

What? sometimes he sléepeth, sometimes he doth no­thing but laugh, & somtimes he taketh his Lute, & sits thrum­ming on that as loud as he can, when it hath scarce 3. strings vpon it, and al to interrupt my speaches, or drowne my voice.

Eula.

And doth not that anger you?

Xant.

Anger me (quoth you?) I cannot expresse how much he vexeth me, I am so chafed with it, that it goeth euen to the heart of me, sometime I haue much ado to hold my hands.

Eula.

My good Xantippe, will you giue me leaue to speake fréely vnto you?

Xant.

I do giue you leaue, say on.

Eula.

What maner of mā soeuer your husband be, yet think this with your selfe, there is no changing for another. Some­times were cō tentiōs where vnappeasable, diuorce is vsed as the last remedie: now that in such cases is quite taken away, euen vnto the houre of death he must be your husband, and you must be his wife. Now there is nothing remaining, but that each of you, by applying your selues to each others condi­tions, do studie to liue in concord.

Xant.

Can I make him a new man?

Eula.

It is not of little force, that wiues may do to make their husbands such as they should be.

Xant.

You then agree well with your husband belike.

Eula.

Now all is well betwéene vs.

Xant.

Then belike ye had somewhat to do at the beginning.

Eula.

Neuer any tēpest (I thank God) but yet (as it is often amongst men) some clouds did now & then arise, which might [Page] haue bred a storme, if we had not by bearing one with ano­ther, preuented the same. Euery one hath his fashio [...]s, and e­uery one hath his minde or opinion by himselfe: and if we wil confesse the truth, euery one hath his faults; which if it bee lawful at any time to take notice of without any hatred of them, or to sée and not sée, then surely in marriage it is lawfull.

Xan.

Your spéech is good.

Eula.

And it often times commeth to passe, that mutual good wil betwéene man and wife, may be broken off, besore one doe wel know anothers conditions, that must be wel loo­ked vnto at the first: for when contention and hart burning is once sprung vp, harty reconciliation is hardly wrought, e­specially if the matter be growne to bitter reproaches, as things that are glewed together, if they be presently shaken, they doe easily fal asunder: but when the glew is through dry, then nothing is surer. Therefore at the beginning all meanes must bee vsed whereby goodwil betwéene the husband and the wife may grow, and be strongly confirmed: and that is done chéefely, by obseruing each others conditions, and fitting of manners accordingly. As for that loue that is grounded one­ly vpon beauty and riches, &c. it is méere temporary, and wil faile when beauty or riches doe faile, or when it seeth anotherA similitude. fairer or richer, and is like a fire that is kindled of straw, which wil make a blaze for a time, but is soone out.

Xan.

But I pray you tel vs by what meanes you drew your husband to your fashions?

Eul.

I wil tel you, to that end you may imitate me.

Xan.

I wil if I can.

Eula.

It is a most easie thing to doe, if you list, and it is not yet too late: for he is a young man, and you are a young wo­man. My cheefest care was stil to be pleasant and merry with my h [...]sband, and to sée that there were nathing that might offend his minde, I obserued his affection and meaning in e­uery thing, and I obserued my times, as Abigail did, when he was merry, and when he was angry, as they are wont to doe that would tame Elephants, or Lions, or the like beasts, [Page] which cannot be wonne by force.

Xan.

Such a one I haue at home.

Eula.

They that goe to Elephants, weare no white rai­ment, nor they red which goe to bulls, because it is found bySimilitudes. experience, that such creatures by such colours are made more wilde, euen as Tigres also at the sound of bells, are so inraged, that they are ready to teare their owne flesh. And they that goe about horses, haue wordes of purpose, smacking with their lippes, and handling of them gently, and all to mittigate their furie, when they are in a chase. How much more doth it become vs to vse such Artes and deuises towards our husbands, with whome we must liue, wil we, nill we, in one house and bed together, so long as wée liue.

Xant.

Wel, go on with that you beganne.

Eulali.

Hauing wel obserued these things, I framed my selfe to his humour, taking great héede, that no offence did grow.

Xant.

How could you doe that?

Eula.

First, in my care of domestical affaires, which is the peculiar prouince of Matrons, I was very vigilant and careful, not onely that nothing was pretermitted, but also, that euery thing was a gréeable to his liking, euen in the sma­lest things: as for example; If my husband loued this or that meate better then another, or i [...] he had rather haue it dressed this way, than that, or if he would haue his bed made thus, or thus, I would be sure to fit him.

Xan.

But how could you frame your selfe to please him that is seldome at home, and commeth drunken home?

Eula.

Nay, stay a while, I went thus farre. If at any time I saw my husband sadde, or very heauy, and that there was no [...]t time to talke with them: I did not then laugh and toy with him, as the manner of many women is to doe; but then did I looke as heauily as he: For as a looking-glasse if it be true, doth alwaies shew a perfect image of him that looketh in it, so it becommeth a good wife to frame her selfe to the affe­ction of her husband, that she be not merry, when he is mour­ning, [Page] nor sad when he is merry. But if at any time I saw him much mooued, and very angry indéede, either by some flattering, or intreatin [...] speeches, I would alay his anger, or by silence I would giue place vnto it, vntil fit time was offered, (when his heate was past) either to cleare my selfe, or to admonish him. The same course I tooke, if at any time I saw him come home more in drinke then ordinary. And for that time I would speake of nothing but pleasant mat­ters, and onely by flattering and faire spéeches, I would draw him to bed.

Xan.

But vnhappy is the state of wines, if they must be obedient and diligent to please their husbands, that are angry, drunke, and giuen to all naughtinesse.

Eula.

As though this care were not mutuall. For they also are compelled to beare with many things in our beha­uiour: but there is a time when a woman may in good earnest admonish her husband, if it bée in a weightie matter: for at light matters it is better to winke than to sée.

Xan.

When is that?

Eulalia

When his minde is frée from study, from anger, from care, and drinke, then alone when there is no bodie by,How wiues must admo­nish their hus­bands. hée is swéetely to be admonished, or intreated rath [...]r, that in this, or that, hee would take a better course for his wealth, or his health, or his credite and good fame. And this same admonition also ought to be powdered with pleasant ieasts, and delightfull spéeches. O [...]tentimes I would vse some pre­face vnto my matter, and obtaine of him, that hee would not be angry with mee, if a foolish woman did admonish him, or putte him in minde, of that which might séeme to make for his credite, for his health, or for his saluation. And when I had saide what I would, I would cutte off my spéech, and would set my selfe to speake of more pleasant matters. For this is commonly our fault my Xantipp [...], that when we once beginne a matter, we cannot tel when to make an end.

Xan.

So they say indéede.

[Page]Eula.

But this one thing amongst all the rest, I did most precisely take heede of; that I would neuer chide with my hus­band before company, nor carry any complaints against him out of my house. But if there be any thing that cannot be in­dured, nor yet by the wiues admonition amended, it is mor [...] ciuil for the wife to goe and complaine to her husbands pa­rents, or kindred, then to his acquaintance and friends, that resort to his house, or before any of his familie, and so to tem­per her complaint, that shee may not séeme to hate her hus­bands person, but his sinne: neither let her powre out all, that so he in silence may acknowledge and loue his wiues ciuility and modesty.

Xan.

She must be a very wise woman that shal performe all this.

Eula.

Yea, and by such déedes we shal draw our husbands to the like ciuility.

Xan.

There bee some that cannot bée amended by any ci­uilitie.

Eula.

Truely I do not thinke so. But grant there be such: First let vs thinke this, that our husband is to be borne with­all whatsoeuer he be. It is therefore better to beare him, be­ing like himselfe, or made better by our curteous behauiour, then by our furious and extreame dealing, to make him daily worse and worse? What if I can bring forth such husbands, as by the like ciuility haue amended their wiues? How much more doth it become vs to performe the like towards our hus­bands?

Xant.

Then you wil shew an example of one that is no­thing like my husband.

Eula.

Now, if I might not be too troublesome, I would tell you of a certaine thing that happened of late in this Citie.

Xan.

It shal be no trouble to me, but I shal heare it with a good will.

Eula.

There is a certaine man, none of the meaner sort, who vsed to goe much a hunting. In the Country he met with a certaine damsel, the daughter of a very poore man: he be­ganne [Page] to be excéedingly in loue with her, and he a man of good yeares: and for her sake he did very often lie abroad all night, his pretence was still hunting. His wife, being a singular good woman, and suspecting I wot not what, shee made a search for her husbands game, and stil was at him for that he had gotten with hunting, and went so farre, that at last shée came to that rustical cosage or cabine of turfes, where he vsed to lie, and fished out all his businesse, the place where he slept, what he drunke, what prouision there was made for him: there was no houshold stuffe but méeee pouerty. This ma­tron went home, and by and by came againe thither, and brought with her a good bed, and all furniture belonging to it, and plate to drinke out of, and mony to buy things withall, praying them that if he came th [...]ther any more, they s [...]ould vse him more ciuilly then they had done, dissembling all this while that she was his wife, and feig [...]ed her selfe to be his si­ster. After a few daies, her husband came thither againe by stealth, and saw euery thing more plentiful, and hansomer than it was wont to be, he asked how all that came about: they said, there was a certaine honest matron of kindred to him, that had brought those things thither, and charged them to entertaine him in the best manner that they could. By and by his conscience was touched, and he beganne to suspect that this was his wiues doing. Being returned home, he asked her if she had not béene there, she did not deny it: then he de­manded of her to what end she sent that stuffe thither? hus­band (quoth she) you are vsed to lie and fare better at home, I saw that you were but homely vsed there, and I thought it my dutie, (when your pleasure was to lie there) to see you haue better entertainement.

Xan.

O matron, too good for such a hunter! If it had béene my case, I should haue sooner haue layd him a bundle of net­tles or bushes, than a bed to lie vpon.

Eula.

But heare the end. The man perceiuing his wiues honesty and kindnesse to be so great, wo [...]ld neuer after goe steale a lodging abroad any more, but contented him selfe at home with his owne wife, and loued her most dearely to his [Page] dying day. You knew Gilbert Batauus, did you not?

Xan.

Yes, I knew him wel.

Eula.

He (as you know) in his flourishing age, married one of good yeares.

Xan.

It may be he married her portion, not her person.

Eula.

Wel, so it is, hée being weary of his wife, loued ano­ther woman, with whom he did often solace himselfe abroad: seldome did he dine or [...]up at home: What would you haue done in this case?

Xan.

What? If I had béen his wife, I would haue flowne in his beloueds face, and torne her haire off her head, and when he had gone out to dinner or supper with her, I would haue crowned him with a pis-pot, that so he might haue gone anointed to his banquet.

Eula.

But his wife tooke a wiser cour [...]e then so. She in­uited that woman (which her husband loued) home to her house, and vsed her in all kindenesse, and so without any sor­ceries drew her husband home also: and if at any time he sup­ped abroad with her, she sent thither s [...]me one messe or other of some good thing, willing them to be merry witha [...]l.

Xan.

I should rather die, than be a bawde to my husband.

Eula.

But in the meane time consider the matter it selfe wel: Was not this farre better, than i [...] by her furious rigour she had wholly [...]straunged her hus [...]ands minde from her, and so should haue led her whole life after in brawles and conten­tions? She knew that some kinde of inconuentence was to be pr [...]ferred before a mischiefe. And so long as she saw nor kn [...]w no [...]uil by them, she in her wisedome did charitably consier all things to the best.

Xan.

I know she chose the lesse euil of the two: but I could not doe so.

Eula.

I will adde onely one more, and then I haue done with examples. Our next neighbour, a very honest kinde man, but somewhat hastie and impatient when he was mo­ued, on a certaine time beate his wife, who was also a very good woman. She presently got her selfe into the inwardest cham [...]er in all the house, and there wéeping and sobbing, shée [Page] digested the gréefe of her minde. A little while after, vpp [...]n some occasion her husband went into the same roome, he finds his wi [...]e wéeping: Why doe you sit héere (quoth he) wéeping and sobbing like a childe? Then she wisely answered him: what, (said she) is it not better for me to deplore an [...] bewaile my hard estate héere in secret, than to runne forth and cry out in the open stréetes, as some women vse to doe? With this spéech (so well beséeming a wife) the mans heart was bro­ken and ouercome, and giuing her his right hand, hee pro­mised her, that he would neuer strike her more: and he was as good as his word.

Xan.

But I haue gotten that of my husband by a cleane contrary way.

Eulalia

It may bee so: but in the meane time, there is a perpetual warre betweene you, and it is a hundred to one that he wil neuer loue you for it.

Xan.

What then would you haue me to doe?

Eula.

First, you must swallow vp all iniuries that your hus­band offer you, and his affection must be by little and little wonne, by duties, and kindenesse, and méekenesse, and milde­nesse, and so you shal at last, either ouercome him, or vse him more commodiously than now you can.

Xan.

Hée is too stowt and hard-harted, to be wonne by a­ny dutie or kindenesse.

Eula.

Oh say not so. There is no wilde beast so fierce, but may bee [...]amed by gentle handling, doe not dispaire of the man, make triall some moneths, blame mée if you finde not this course good for you. There bée many faults also that you must winke at; and aboue all, beware that you mooue no brawles in chamber or in bedde: but bee carefull that there all things bee pleasaunt and merrie. For if that place which is consecrated to the putting a­way of all offences, and to the restoring of loue, be pro­faned with strife and gréefe, then all remedies of reconciliati­on are gone.

And there be some women so froward, that euen in the very act of generation, they wil be brawling, or sullen, and mal­contented, [Page] and by their tedious and irke some conditions, doe make that pleasure vnpleasant, which should purge mens mindes from all grée [...]e and dislike, corrupting and spoiling the phisicke whereby offences might haue béene healed.

X [...]n.

Truely this hath béene my case.

Eula.

No maruaile then though your husband cannot loue you. At no time a woman should be loath some or gréeu [...]us to her husband: but at such a méeting, especially shee should doe all her endeuour to be amiable and pleasing to her good man.

Xan.

I haue to doe with a beast, and not a man.

Eula.

Oh leaue these railing and vnciuil spéeches: for the most part it is through our own default, that men be no better than they are.

Xan.

I would I could make him better, but it passeth my skill.

Eulalia

If you wil bee as good as your skil, you can doe it: hée must be yours, and you must be his, doe what you can; and the better you make him, the better it will bée for your selfe. But you alwaies looke vpon his faults, and those you aggrauate, and they increase your hatr [...]d, and then you take the pot by that eare that wil not hold: rather fa [...]en your eyes vpon those things that are good in him, and that is a handle by which he may be held and vsed. Before you did marry him, you had time to consider what faults he had: now is the time of healing, and not of wounding, of cléering, and not of accusing: and you ought to haue chosen your husband as wel by your eares, as by your eyes.

Xan [...]ippe

What woman did euer choose a husband by her [...]ares?

Eula.

Shee chooseth onely by the eye, who respecteth no­thing but the beauty, and making of the body; but she chooseth by the care, that doth diligently obse [...]ue what report and [...]ame goeth of him.

Xan.

Your warning is good, but i [...] commeth too late.

Eula.

But it is not too late to study how to amend your husband, and that you may doe yet, if you wil but temper [Page] your selfe accordingly. What doe others reporte of your hus­band, his friends and acquaintance with whome he doth dai­ly conuerse?

Xan.

They say he is of maruellous good behauiour, courte­ous, liberall, kind-hearted, and friendly to his friend.

Eul.

And that makes me of good hope, that he will prooue such a one as we desire.

X [...]n.

But to me onely he is not so.

Eul.

Do you but shew your selfe to him in such manner as I haue shewed you, and neuer trust me more, if he pr [...]oue notOf Diuorce. such to you also. And there is no talking of being diuorced from him now.

Xan.

But that hath béene often in my minde.

Eul.

When that cogitation comes into your minde, thinke first with your selfe, of how small reckoning a woman is that is diuorced from her husband. The chiefest ornament of a wife, is to be duetifull to her husband, and studious to please him: so hath Nature prouided, and so God will haue it, that we depend wholy vpon our husbands. Againe, thin [...]e of your children which are common to you both, what do you meane to doe with them? If you take them with you, y [...]u de [...]raude your husband of his possession. If you leaue th [...]m behinde you, then you bereaue your selfe of that which is most [...] vnto you. Last of all, tell me, haue you any that beare you euill wil?

Xan.

I haue a mother in lawe, and my owne mother, both which doe wish me dead.

Eul.

And what can be more acceptable vnto them than to sée you diuorced from your husband, to liue a widowe, nay, worse then a widow, for widowes may marry againe.

Xan.

Truely I like your counsell well, but I shall be wea­rie of such a daily labour.

Eul.

But thinke with your selfe what a deale of labour you must take before you can teach this Parrot to speake like a man. And shall it grieue you to take paines in reforming of your husband, with whom you may liue swéetely all the daies of your life?

[Page]Xan.

What shall I doe?

Eul.

I haue already told you: first vse daily & earnest prai­er to God, then be carefull that all things be cleane, and swéet, and decent at home, that there be no loathsomnesse or sluttish­nesse to make him wearie of his house, shew your selfe gentle and louing vnto him, and alwayes remember a certaine re­uerence that a wife oweth to her husband: put away sadnesse and malecontentednesse, and put away all sawcines and im­pudent repr [...]chfulnes, be not sluttish, nor toyish, and lasciu [...] ­ous, let all your prouision at home be neate and trimme. You know your husbands diet, that that he liketh best, prouide for him, and let it be after his owne minde. And moreouer, shew your selfe friendly and affable to those he loueth. At the table let there be no complaining, nor finding of fault, but let all be full of mirth and ioy, so shall you inure your husband to tarry at home, and saue charges. Then shal he begin to thinke with himselfe thus: Truly I am a very foole to liue abroad with the great expense of my wealth and credit, hauing at home so ple­sant and louing a wife, with whome I may enioy all thinges in honest, decent, and good sort.

Xan.

Do you think I should haue good successe if I tried?

Eul.

I make no doubt of it: in the meane time I wil go to your husband, and will admonish him of his duetie.

Xant.

I like your counsell, but take héede that none of our talke come to his eare, for if you doe, he will take on as if hea­uen and earth should goe together.

Eul.

Feare not, I will so winde within him by circum­stances, that he shal tell me all the stirre that is betwéene you himselfe. After that, I shall handle him after my maner most finely. And I hope you shall finde him more to your liking than euer be [...]ore. And as occasiou shall serue, I will belie you, and tell him how well and kindely you spake of him.

Xan.

I pray God prosper that we go about.

Eul.

No doubt but he will, if you be not wanting to your selfe.

FINIS.

A pithy Dialogue betweene a Harlot and a godly yong man: shewing how shee going about to catch him in her snares, was (by his forcible perswasions) caught her selfe, and conuerted to an ho­nest woman.

The Speakers names.
  • Lucreti [...].
  • Sophroniu [...].
Lucreti [...].

WEll done, my most pleasant friend Sophronius, that you are come vnto vs at the last, for me thinke it is a long time since I sawe you: at the first sight I did scarce knowe you.

Soph.

Why so, my Lucretia?

Lu.

Because the last time I sawe you, you had no beard, and now you haue a little one. What is the matter, my swéet heart? me think you looke more sowrely than you were wont.

Sop.

I desire to talke more [...]amiliarly with you alon [...].

Lu.

What, are we not alone, my déere heart?

Sop.

Let vs goe into a more secret place.

Lu.

Goe to then, let vs goe into the inner chamber, if you list to do any thing.

Sop.

This place (as I take it) is not secret enough.

Lu.

From whence commeth this new bashfulnes? héere is a closet where I lay all my apparrell, so darke a place, that I can scarse sée thee, or thou mée.

So.

Look round about that there be no chinks in the wall.

Lu.

There is not one.

So.

Is there no body in the next roome that can heare vs?

[Page]Lucr.

Not a flie truely, my swéete heart: what doost doubt? why doost thou make such delayes?

Sop.

Can wée héere escape the eies of God?

Luc.

No, he séeth all things.

Sop.

Nor his Angells?

Luc.

We cannot auoyde their presence.

Sop.

And what is the reason that men are not ashamed to doe those things before the eies of God, and his holy Angells, which they are ashamed to doe in the sight of men?

Lucr.

What new matter is this? what, art thou come hi­ther to preach? put on a hoode, and get thée into the Pulpit, and there we will heare you, with your little beard.

Sop.

Surely, I would not sticke to doe that, if I thought I might reclaime you from this kinde of life you leade, not one­ly the most filthy, but also the most miserable.

Lucr.

And why so, goodman? we must liue by one meanes or another. Euery man liueth by his trade, this is our trade, and this is our lands.

Sop.

I could wish (my Lucretia) that this lightnes of mind being shaken off, you woulde with me consider better of the matter.

Luc.

I pr [...]y thée kéepe thy Sermon till another time, let vs now liue and be merry, my Sophronius.

Soph.

You do all that you do for lucre, do you not?

Lucr.

You haue hit the naile on the head.

Sophr.

You shall loose no penny of that you looke for, I wil giue you foure times so much, if you will but onely hearken vnto me.

Lucr.

Say what you will.

Soph.

First then answer me to this question, Haue you a­ny that wish you euill?

Lucr.

Not one.

Sophr.

Is there none that you do hate?

Lucr.

No otherwise than they deserue.

Sophr.

If you could do them a good turne, would you do it?

Lucr.

I would first temper them a cup of poison.

Soph.

But now consider with your selfe, whether you can [Page] doe any thing that can be more acceptable vnto them, than to let them sée you liue this shamefull and miserable life. And what could you doe that coulde more grieue them that wi [...]h you well?

Luc.

This was my lot.

Sophr.

Now that which was wont to be the hardest thing of all other to banished persons, or to those that are carried ouer into the Ilands, or cast out into the furthest partes of the worlde amongst the barbarous people, that haue you chosen to your selfe of your owne accord.

Lucr.

What is that?

Sop.

Haue not yo [...] voluntarily renounced all naturall af­fection, yea your father and mother, your brethren and si­sters, and all others, whome by nature you are bound vnto? for they are all ashamed of thée, and thou darest not come in their sight.

Lucr.

Yea, I haue most happily chaunged my affection, for in stead of a few friends, I now haue many, of whom I al­waies reckon thee for one, that is to me in steade of a brother.

Sophr.

Leaue these iestings, and consider the matter in good earnest as it is. She that hath so many friends, hath neuer a friend, beléeue me, (my Lucretia.) For they that resorte vn­to thée, doe not account of thée as their friend, but rather as a chamber-pot. Behold how farre thou hast reiected thy selfe, thou miserable creature. Christ did so déerely loue thée, that hée redéemed thée with his bloud, to make thée a fellow-heire with him of the inheritance of heauen, and doest thou make thy selfe a common sincke, or iakes, for euery base, filthy, and scabby companion to resorte vnto, and to emptie his filthi­nesse in thée? And if you be yet frée from the contagion of that leprousie which they call the Spani [...]h Scab, or French poxe, you cannot long be without it: which if it should happen vnto thée, what more vnhappie or miserable than thou, although the rest were safe, I doe meane thy goodes, and good name? What else canst thou be but a liuing carkasse, or a carrion? You were loath to obey your mother, nowe doe you serue a most filthie bawde. You scorned to heare the admonition [...] [Page] of your parents: here you must be continually beaten of drun­ken and mad who r [...]maisters. It grieued you to do any worke at home, wher [...] by you might get your liuing, and here, what tumult? what sturres? what hurly-burlies? what braw­li [...]gs and quarellings, what night watchings, must you en­dure? Besides that, continually afraide of the Constable, and suspecting euery one that knocketh to be an Officer sent to apprehend you.

Lu.

From whence commeth this new preacher to vs?

Sop.

Now consider of another thing with me, and leaue thy scoffing. The flower of thy beautie which getteth thée so ma­ny louers, shall fade in a verie short time, what wilt thou do then, thou miserable creature? what dunghill will be more vile, what Toad more loathsome then thou? Peraduenture of a Strumpet you will becom a Bawde, yet euery one com­meth not to that dignitie: but say that you doe, what thing more wicked, or that can come more neare vnto the malice, and nature of the Diuell him selfe?

Lu.

They are true indéed, my Sophronius, almost all that thou sayest. But where gatest thou this sanctimonie, which wert woont to be the wantonnest of all wantons? No man did euer more often resort hither, or at more vnseasonable houres than thou hast done. I heare say you haue beene at Rome.

So.

I haue so indéede.

Lu.

But from thence men were woont to returne woorse than they went, how cōmeth the contrarie to passe with you?

So.

I will tell you: because I went not thither in that ma­ner, nor to that end that others do. Others for the most part go thither, that they may returne woorse then they went, aud there they shall want no occasions, nor prouocations. I went with an honest man, by whose perswasion I solde my Flag­gon Bottle, and bought me a little Booke, the new Testa­ment of Erasmus translation.

Lu.

Erasmu [...]? they lay he is halfe an heretike.

So.

Haue you seene the man?

Lu.

Neuer: but I wish I might see him of whom I hau [...] [Page] heard so much euill.

Sop.

It may be of euill person [...].

Luc.

Nay of reuerent men.

So.

Who, I pray you?

Lu.

Nay, I may not tell.

So.

Why so?

Lu.

Because if you should blabbe, and it should come to their eares, I should loose no small portion of my gaine.

So.

I thought what reuerend ones they were. But feare not, you shall tell it to a stone.

Lu.

Hearken then in your eare.

So.

O foolish woman, what néed I lay my eare to whisper in, when we are alone? Can God heare vs? But now I sée that you are a godly whore, that can helpe beggers with your almes.

Lu.

But by such beggers I gaine more, then by you rich folke.

So.

I know that well enough, for they spoile honest ma­trones to bestow it vpon wicked harlots.

Lu.

But go on with your booke.

So.

So I will, and it is best of all. There Saint Paul (who cannot lie) taught me, that neither whoremongers, nor forni­catours shall inherite the kingdome of heauen. When I had read that, I began thus to thinke with my selfe: It is but a small thing that I looke to get by my fathers inheritance, and yet I had rather renounce all whoredomes, and harlots, then to be dis-inherited of my father. How much more should I take héede that I be not dis-inherited of my heauenly father? And yet against my father (if he shold dis▪ inherit me) I might be relieued by the laws of men; but if God should dis-inherite me, I haue no refuge to flie vnto. Therefore I did fully re­solue with my selfe wholy to renounce all harlots.

Lu.

If you can containe your selfe, it is well.

So.

It is a good part of continencie, to be willing from the heart to be continent. Last of all, there remaineth another remedie against this mischiefe, an [...] that is marriage: There was a good man at Rome, who with many good wordes exhor­ted [Page] me to puritie of mind and bodie, to holy readings, to often prayers, and sobrietie o [...] life: for my penance he inioyned me nothing but to aske God forgiuene [...]se vpon my knées, if I had any store of money, to giue to some poore bodie one Caroline. I maruailed that for so manie faults that I had committed with harlots, he would enioyne me no harder penance: he an­swered me pleasantly and said; My sonne, if thou doest truly r [...]pent, and chaunge thy life, I stand not vpon penance: but if thou continuest in thy sinne, euen thy filthie lust it selfe will put thée to penance, and paine more then enough, yea though the priest enioyne thée none. For Salomon sayth, That the wic­ked man shall be taken with his owne iniquitie, and shall beProu 5. bound with the cords of his owne sinne: so that he shall néede none else to pursue him, or to apprehend him, or to bind him, his owne sinne shall doe all. And againe in the same Chap­ter, he sayth: That though the lippes of a harlot drop as the honie combe, and her words be softer than Oyle, yet her féete go downe to death, and her steps take hold of hell, and her end will be more bitter than wormewood, and sharper than a two edged sword, and he that is deceiued by her shal mourne in the end, and say, I haue giuen mine honour to the straung [...]r, and my strength to the cruell, and wasted my substaunce, and my goods are found in the house of the straunger. How haue I ha­ted instruction, and my soule despised correction? I am brought vnto all euill, in the midst of the Congregation. And looke vp­on me (quoth that father) you sée me, how blind I am, my eies continually running with water, I shake and am crooked, and sometime I was such a one as you say your selfe hauebéene hitherto. So I repented, and haue ta ken a n [...]w course.

Lu.

Then I perceiue I haue lost my Sophronius.

So.

Nay, you haue gained him rather. For before, he was lost, and was neither his owne friend, nor thine, but now hée doth truly loue thée, and thirsteth after thy saluation.

Lu.

What then, doe you perswade me vnto my good, So­phroni [...]s?

So.

That with all spéede you giue ouer this kinde of life. Yet you be yong, the staines that hitherto you haue gotten, [Page] may, by heartie repentance, and faith in Christ, be wiped a­way: or marry some honest man, and we wil help you to some thing towards your dowrie: or else leaue this place, and get into the seruice of some honest matrone. To which of these you haue most minde, you shall haue my be [...]t furtherance.

Lucr.

In good earnest, my Sophronius, looke me out a ser­uice, and I will follow your counsell.

So.

But in the meane time remooue your selse from hence.

Lucr.

What, so soone?

Sophr.

Why not to day aswel as to morrow? delay is dan­gerous.

Lucr.

Whither shall I goe?

Sophr.

Gather vp all your apparell, and I will kéep it for this night, my seruant shall bring you to an honest ma [...]rone, where you shall be a while at my charge, vntill I shall oth [...]r­wise prouide for you, which shall not be long.

Lucr.

Goe to then, my good Sophronius, I doe wholly com­mit my selfe vnto thy fidelitie.

So.

Thereof you shall neuer repent your selfe by the grace of God.

A Dialogue of a Womanin Childe-bed.

The Speakers names.
  • Eutrapilus
  • Fabulla.
Eutrapilu [...].

GOd saue you my déere Fabulla.

Fab.

And you too Eutrapilus, but what is the matter that you come now to salute me, which none of vs haue séene this thrée yéere full?

[Page]Eut.

I wil tel you, by chaunce I (passing by these houses) sawe the crowe or the ring of the doore bound about with a white linnen cloth, and I maruelled what the reason of it should be.

Fab.

Are you such a stranger in this countrey, that you do not knowe the reason of that? doe not you knowe that it is a signe that there is a woman lying in where that is?

Eut.

O wōderfull! is it not a prodigious thing to sée a white crow? but in good sadnes, I knewwel inough, that that is the maner where a woman lieth in, but I could not once īuspect that, you being so yoong a damsel, scarse yet sixtéene yeares olde, had so soone learned that most difficult Arte of getting children, which oth [...]r women doe hardly learne before they be thirtie yéeres olde.

Fab.

You are alwayes like your selfe, you haue not your n [...]me īor nought, you may wel be called Eutrapilus, for you loue to be giving and ieasting.

Eutr.

So may you wel be called Fabulla, for you are neuer without a fable. But as I was thus musing at the matter, in good time I met with him that hath had so many wiues.

Fab.

What, he that s [...] lately buried his tenth wife?

Eutr.

The very same: but ile tel you, (that which perhaps you are ignorant of) he goeth a wooing againe as prowdly and lustily as if he had neuer bin married: And I asked of him the reason of this white crowe. There is (quoth he) in this house, a woman cut in two, or diuided by the middle, what hainous offence (saide I) hath she committed? And if it be true (quoth he) is bruited by the common rumour of the people, the good wife of the house hath flead her husband, and with that went laughing away.

Fab.

He is a pleasant companion after his rude manner.

Eutr.

I came forthwith in, to gratulate or reioyce with you for your happy birth.

Fab.

So you may if you wil Eutrapilus, but then you wil reioyce for my happy birth, when you shall sée in that which I haue brought foorth, a token of a good man.

Eutr.

Thou speakest both godly and truly, my Fabulla.

[Page]Fab.

No sir, I am no mans Fabulla, but Petronius onely.

Eut.

To Petronius only, you bring forth, but I suppose you do not liue to him alone. But for this also am I glad, and do reioyce with you, that you haue brought foorth a man childe.

Fab.

But whie doe you thinke mée more happie for hauing a man childe than a woman child [...]?

Eutr.

Nay rather Fabulla, let me learne that of you, whie you women are gladder when you beare a sonne, than when you beare a daughter.

Fab.

What oth [...]rs thinke is vnknowne to me, but at this time I am glad of a sonne, because it séemed good vnto God to haue it so: if his wil were to giue me a daughter, I should be as well pleased as I am.

Eutr.

Do you thinke that God is at leisure to looke to thos [...] that beare children?

Fa.

What can his maiestie rather do then to preserue that by propagation which he hath created?

Eutr.

What can he rather [...]oe good woman? yea, if God were not God indéede, I doe not thinke that hée could suffici­ently prouide for so many businesses as he dooth. There is the king of Denmarke a godly fauourer of the Gospel, hée liueth in banishment. There is Francis the French king, he liueth as a ghest or stranger amongest the Spaniardes, I knowe not whether it be with his wil, or against his will, but surely hée is a man worthie of better fortune. Charles hée goeth a­bout to make a new Monarchie of the whole worlde. Fe [...]di­nandus hath as much to do in Germany about his own matters as he can. All Courtiers are gnawne with an insatiable hun­ger of money: the countrymen, they raise very daungerous commotions, neither can they be terrified from their atempts by so many slaughters and ruines as they haue suffered, al the people thinkes of nothing but an Anarchie, or confusion of all things: the house of the Church is shaken with daungerous factions: this way and that way is the seamelesse coate of Christ tor [...]e in péeces. The Lordes Uineyarde is now wa­sted, not by one boare alone: the authoritie also of Priestes and the dignitie of Diuines, together wi [...]h their tithes and [Page] maintenance is going to wracke, the constitutions of the Bi­shops doe [...]aint and languish, the Eucharist or Sacrament of Chr [...]sts bo [...]y and blood is called in qu [...]stion, antichrist is ex­spect [...]d, and the whole worlde doth trauell of (I knowe not what) some great [...]ischiefe. In the meane time the Turkes [...] a [...]d dominéere, and wil make hauocke of all, if they go [...] on as they beginne. And doost thou aske what God can doe b [...]tter than to haue a care of women in Childebed? yea, I thinke it high time for him to looke to his own kingdome, and that in time too.

Fab.

Peraduenture that which séem [...]th great vnto men, is vnto God a matt [...]r of no moment. But (if you will) let vs from this talke [...]clude the person of God, and tell in good ear­n [...]st what mooueth you to thinke me more happie for hauing alo [...]ne than a daughter.

Eutr.

It is the parte of a godly mind to iudge that the best which our good God shall giue without al doubt. But if God should giue you a cristall cup, would you not giue him great thankes?

[...]ab.

[...] would indéede.

[...]utra.

But what if he should giue you but a glasse potte, wo [...]ld you giue him the like thankes? But while I stand dis­put [...]g of these matters, I feare me that I am not comforta­bl [...], but troublesome vnto you.

[...]ab.

Not so: Fabulla cannot now take any harme by talk­ing, this is the fourth wéeke since I lay downe, and nowe I am strong enough eu [...]n to wrastle.

Eut.

Why then do you not flie abroad from your neast?

Fab.

[...]he King hath forbidden it.

Eut.

What King?

Fab.

A tyrant.

Eut.

Wh [...] I pray you?

Fab.

I wil tel you in one sillable: Custome.Custome is a tyrant.

Eut.

Sée how many things this King exacteth beside all right and reason, let vs then goe on with our discourse of cri­stall and glasse.

Fab.

The man (as I coniecture) you iudge to be of a more [Page] excellent and firme nature than the woman.

Eutr.

So I thinke indéede.Whether the man or the woman be the more ex­cellent.

Fab.

Forsooth, if men may be Iudges, whether then are men longer liu [...]d then women? or whether are they frée from diseases?

Eu.

Not so, but in their kind they are stronger than womē.

Fab.

But therein a camell goes beyond a man.

Eut.

Yea but the man was first created.

Fab.

S [...] was [...]dam cr [...]ated before Christ, is he therefor [...] more excellent? And workemen are woont in their last works to [...]xcell thems [...]lues.

Eutr.

But God hath made the woman subiect to the man.

Fab.

He is not by and by the bett [...]r which commaundeth another. And God hath not subiected the woman, but th [...] married woman. [...]nd againe, he hath so subiected the mar­ried woman v [...]to her hus [...]and▪ that whereas each hath pow­er ouer o [...]hers body, he would haue the woman to yéelde obe­dience v [...]to her husband, not as vnto the more excellent, but as vnto the more [...]ierce and vnruely. Speake Eutrapilus, whe­ther is the weaker, hee that yéeld [...]th vnto an other, or hee to whome the way is yéelded?

Eutr.

Truly heere I wil yéeld vnto you, if you wil declare vnto me what was saint Pauls meaning when he saith, That Christ is the head of the man, and that the man is the head of1. Corin. 11. the woman. And againe, when he saieth, That the man is the image and glory of God, and the woman is the glorie of the man.

Fa [...].

That I shal soone resolue you of, if you wil but shew me, whether it be granted v [...]to men only to be the members of Christ.

Eut.

God forbid, that is giuen to all, both men and women by faith.

Fab.

How commeth it then to passe, that when the head is but one, it may not be counted common to all the members? Againe, when God made man to his owne image, whether did he expr [...]sse that image in the figure or forme of the bodie, or in the gifts of the minde?

[Page]Eut.

In the gifts of the minde.

Fa.

And in these, (when you haue said what you can) wher­in do men excel vs? In either sexe are to be found vices inow, drunkennesse, brawlings, fightings, slaughters, warres, ra­pines, and adulteries, &c.

Eut.

But onely we men fight for our Countrey.

Fab.

But you do more often leaue your place, and flie with shame inough, neither is it alwayes for your Countrey that you fight, but most commonly for a base stipend: you for­sake both wife and children, and woorse than cut-throats, when you neede not, you expose your bodies to a seruil [...] necessitie, either of killing or béeing killed. Now for all the great bragge you make of your martiall valour, there is none of you all, but if you had once tried what it is to beare a childe, he had rather stand and fight ten times in the armie, then once to vndergoe the paine and sorrow that we haue ex­perience of dayly. In the warres it comes not alwayes to handie blowes: and if it doe, yet euerie part of the armie is not endaungered alike: such as you be, are placed in the middle of the campe, some are in the out-shifts, and some after th [...] first stroke is stricken, go their way, and sit downe where they are [...]afe inough. And to conclude, many saue themselues by yéelding, our surrendring: but as for vs, we must encoun­ter with death euen hand to hand.

Eut.

This is not the first time I haue heard of these things, but are they as truly as commonly reported?

Fab.

They are too true.

Eut.

Will you haue me then to perswade your husband, that from henceforth be shall not meddle with you? For so shal you be sure to be frée from this danger, Fabula.

Fab.

Surely I desire nothing more willingly, if you can bring it to passe.

Eut.

What rewarde shall that Orator haue that can per­swade this matter?

Fab.

Sure I will giue him ten Neates tongues dried in the smoke.

E [...]t.

I had rather yet haue them than ten NightingalesA bargaine. [Page] tongues. Well, I refuse not the offer: but I would not hau [...] this bargaine to take effect, vntill there be some solemne coue­nant or band drawne.

Fab.

If you please to haue it so, let it be so, and whatsoeuer caution or assurance else you can deuise.

Eut.

That shall be done according to your owne mind, af­ter your month is expired.

Fab.

And why may it not be done now rather, according to my minde?

Eut.

I will tell you, because I feare that after a month, you will be of another minde, and then both you must double your reward, and my paines also will be doubled in perswading and disswading.

Fab.

Well then, let it bée euen as you will for me: but in the mean time go forward, and shew why the male sex should be more excellent then the female?

Eut.

Oh, I perceyue Fabulla, that you haue studied this matter, and come prepared for this combate, and therefore for this time I thinke it my best course, euen to giue you the Bucklers, I will deale with you after an other manner, and I will be armed too, neither will I come with­out a Souldier to helpe me, for when the matter is tried one­ly by the tongue, surely one woman will be too hard for se­uen men.

Fab.

Certainly nature hath armed vs with this weapon, although you men be not tongue-tied.

Eut.

It may be so: but where is the boy?

Fab.

In the next Chamber.

Eut.

What doth he there? Doth he seeth Coleworts, or looke to the pottage pot?

Fab.

Away trifler: he is with his nurse.

Eut.

What nurse doe you speake of? hath he any other nurse then his owne mother?

Fab.

Yea, why not? that is the common maner now.

Eut.

When you speake of the common manner, Fabulla, you name the woorst author that can be, of a thing that should be well done: for commonly men sinne, the common maner [Page] is to play at Dice; the common manner is to goe to whoore­houses; the common manner is to deceiue, to be drunken, and to riot.

Fab.

It seemed good to my friendes to haue it so, for they thought it meete to spare mee yet, being of so tender yeares.

Eut.

But if nature hath made you able to conceiue, andO [...] putting orth children o nurse. bring foorth, no doubt but that Nature hath also made you able to giue sucke.

Fab.

Truly that is verie probable.

Eut.

Tel me what you thinke, is not the name of Mother a most swéete name?

Fab.

Yes, I doe beléeue it.

Eut.

Therefore if it were possible, you should let another woman be the Mother of your childe.

Fab.

In faith sir no.

Eut.

Why then do you willingly resigne more then halfe your title of Mother vnto another woman?

Fab.

Good wordes Eutrapilos, I diuide not my sonne, I am the whole and sole mother.

Eut.

Nay Fabulla, here euen Nature it selfe dooth gain­say you, and checke you to your face: Why is the earth cal­ledNature it selfe is against put­ting forth children to nurse. the mother of all things? is it for that it bringeth them forth? yea, but much more because it nourisheth those things which it bringeth forth. Whatsoeuer the water bréedeth, is al­so brought vp in the same waters. In the earth there is no kind of thing ingēdred, whether it be li [...]g creature, or plant, but the same earth doth nonrish it with her moisture. Neither is there any kinde of liuing creature, but it doth nourish his owne yong ones: the Owels▪ the Lions, and Uipers do no­rish their owne yong ones: and doe men and women cast off theirs? I pray you, what is more cruell then those, that for the tediousnesse that is in education, do expose or cast out their yong ones to the wide world?

Fab.

You speake of things to be abhorred.

Eut.

Yea, but men for all that doe not so abhorre the fact as they should: for it is not a kinde of exposing or casting [Page] o [...]t [...]o take a little [...] in [...]ant, yet warme [...] [...] mother, yea that [...] of the mother, yea and [...], or cry­ing for helpe of the mother, with that v [...]ice that is saide [...] moue euen the wilde beasts, and to commit it ouer vnto a wo­man, perhaps scarce sound in her body, nor yet in her conditi­ons, with whom a little mony is more respected than all thy childe.

Fab.

Yea, but we haue made choice of a nurse that is o [...] [...] sound constitution of her body.

Eut.

This can the Phisitians better iudge of than you. But héere suppose that the woman you speake of, be not onelyStrangersmilk and heate is not like the mothers, whereunto the infant hath beene accustomed in the womb. Similies of Wheate, Vines, Plants. equall to your selfe, but if you wil, alittle aboue you: yet doe you thinke it no matter, whether the tender infant doe suche of that milke that it hath béene [...]amiliarly acquainted vnto, and to be nourished with that natural heate that it was vsed vnto in the wombe, or be compelled to accustome it selfe vn­to other milke, and other heate? Wheate being sowne in a strange ground, doth degenerate into [...], or winter wheat: a vine being translated from his natiue soile to another hill, doth change his nature: a little plant being plucked from his natiue earth, doth hang downe his head, and droope, and in a manner die: and therefore, as much as lieth in men, they ne­uer remoue them without their owne natiue earth about the rootes of them.

Fab.

Yea, but they say, that plants remoued, and new s [...]tObiect. in other ground, doe loose their wilde nature, and bring forth more noble fruite.

Eut.

True, but they are not remoued presently (good wo­man) so soone as they are borne. And this time wil come tooAnswer. one day, (if God wil) that you must put forth your yong sonne abroad, to be indued with learning, and more [...] kinde of gouernment, or discipline, which dutie doth rather belong vn­to the father, than to the mother: but now his tender age is to be fauoured, and cherished. And further, where as it maketh much to the health and strength of the bo [...]y, to s [...] what man­ner of meate it be fed withall, then is it a thing [...] [...]o be regarded, what iuyce that young and tender little body o [...] [Page] the infan [...] bée nourished withall. For in this case it will prooue true which Horace sayeth; Looke where-with the potte is once seas [...]ed, of that wil it smell a long time af­ter.

Fa.

For the body I take not so much care, so that the minde may be such as we des [...]re.

Eut.

Truely your spéech hath m [...]re pietie than Phi­losophie.

Fab.

Why so?

Eu [...]rap.

Then when you cut hearbes, why doe you com­plaine that your knifes edge is blunt, and command it to bée sharpened? And why doe you refuse to sow with a dull néedle, séeing that doth diminish nothing from your skill?

Fab.

There wanteth not Art, but a fit instrument.

Eut.

Why doe they auoide Darnel and Onions, which haue néede of a [...]harpe sight?

Fab.

Because they hurt the eyes.

Eut.

And is it not the minde that séeth?

Fab.

Yes, for they that haue no minde▪ haue no sight, and they that minde nothing, sée nothing: But what [...]an a worke­man doe with a bad toole?

Eut.

Then you confesse the body to be the instrument of the minde.

Fab.

That is certaine.When the bo­dy is at fault, the minde is at fault.

Eut.

And you also confesse, that when the body is at fault, the minde cannot worke, or it worketh but vntowardly.

Fab.

It is true that you say.

Eut.

Goe to then, me thinks now I haue gotten a pretty Philosophical wit. Imagine therefore, that the minde of a man might goe into the body of a dunghil cocke: could it then vtter such a voice as now it doth?

Fab.

No.

Eut.

What should be the let?

Fab.

Because there are wanting lips and téeth, and such a tong as we haue, as also the wesel-pipe, or flap of the throte: there are also wanting the thrée gristles which are moued of the thrée muscles, vnto which doe belong the sinewes that [Page] come from the braine, neither hath a corke such [...] mouth and [...]awes, as we haue.

Eut.

What if the soule of man should goe into a swi [...] body?

Fab.

It should grunt like a swine.

Eut.

What if it were in the body of a Camell?

Fab.

It would cry like a Camell.

Eut.

What if it were in the body of an Asse?

Fab.

It would bray like an Asse.

Eut.

Surely this did Ap [...]leius a Philosopher of A [...]hens confesse, when he desired to call vpon Caesar, though he drew his lippes together as much as he could, yet hée could scarce sound O Caesar, by no meanes could hee pronounce. Th [...] same Apuleius, when hée desired to remember a tale that hée had heard, hée desired to haue it written, and hée condemned such an a [...]se-headed conceit, when he did sée whole hoofes.

Fab.

And worthily.

Eu [...]rapilus

Therefore, with eyes that runne, or are blood­shotten, the soule séeth worse than when the eyes ar [...] cléere, it heareth the worse when the eares are full of filth▪ it smelleth the worse when fleame dooth possesse the braine, it féeleth the worse when anie member is astonyed, it ta­steth the worse when the tongue is corrupted with ill hu­mours.

Fab.

It cannot be denied.

Eut.

Onely because the instrument is corrupted.

Fab.

So I iudge it.

Eut.

Neither doe you deny, but that for the most part it is corrupted by meate and drinke.

Fab.

I grant it: But what hurt doth this to a good mi [...]e?

Eut.

Therefore what doth Darnell to cleare eyes?

Fa.

It corrupteth the eye which is the mindes instrument.

Eut.

You answer rightly▪ but tel me one thing. What is the reason that one man hath a quicker v [...]rstanding, and a surer memory th [...]n [...], and that one is sooner angry and more moderate in his a [...]ger than another?

[Page]Fab.

Because the minde is so framed.

Eut.

You shal not so carry it away. What is the cause that he which was sometime of a quicke wit, and of a rich memo­ry, doth afterward become forgetful and dull, and that with­out blow, without fall, or disease, or old age?

Fab.

Now you séeme to play the Sophister with me.

Eut.

Therefore on the other side doe you also play the So­phister, and finde out my Sophistry.

Fab.

I thinke this is your meaning; that as the soule doth heare and sée by the eares and the eyes, so by certaine organs or instruments, it vnderstandeth, and remembreth, and lo­ueth, and hateth, it is angry, and pleased.

Eut.

You coniecture right.

Fab.

But after all this now, what be those instruments, and where be they?

Eut.

You sée where the eyes be.

Fab.

That is true, and the eares too, and nosthrills I sée, and where the palate is I know, and in all the whole body I sée there is a fellow-feeling, vnlesse any member be benum­med or astonied.

Eut.

Though a foote be cut off, yet the minde vnderstan­deth.

Fab.

It doth so, although a hand be cut off.

Eut.

But he that receiueth a sore blow vpon the temples of his head, or in the nape of the necke, falleth downe like a dead man, and is voide of sense.

Fab.

This haue I séene in my time.

Eut.

By this you may perceiue, that within the braine­panne doe lie the instruments of vnderstanding, of will and memory, which be not so grosse or thicke, as the eares and eyes, but yet material. For asmuch as they be spirites which wee haue in our body, that be most subtile and corporeall, that is, of a most thinne, fine, and tender substance.

Fab.

And are these also corrupted by meates and drinks?

Eut.

Uery much.

Fab.

Why the braine is farre from the stomacke.

Eut.

And so is the toppe of the tunnel of a chimney, farre [Page] from the fire in the chi [...]y: but if you [...] there you [...]hall féele a vapour.

Fab.

I doe not meane to try.

E [...]t▪

But if you wil not credite me, inquire of the Storks. Therefore it is very materiall what spirites and vapours doe flie vp into the braine and instruments of the minde: for if these b [...] raw and colde, they fall downe againe into the stomacke.

Fab.

In truth now you describe vnto me the manner of a still, by which wee receiue the iuyce of hearbe [...] and [...]owers, breathing or vapouring vpward.

Eut.

Your còniecturing is not amisse. For the l [...]er where­unto the gall cleaueth, is in the place of the fire, the stomacke is a panne, the braine-panne is the top of the high butte or still, and so if you will, the nose is in the stéede of the spowt. Therefore from this mutuall flowing and ebbing of humors, groweth whatsoeuer is the cause of any disease, euen as di­uers humours doe diuersly fall, now into the eyes, now int [...] the stomacke, one while into the shoulders, another whi [...]e in­to the necke, or else-where. Whereby you may also perceiue why exce [...]siue wine drinkers haue bad memories, and why those that feede vppon meates of more pure and subtile [...] spi­rites, are not so dull witted. And why Coriander helpeth me­mory, and Langwort or Neesewort purgeth the minde: and why great fulnesse brings the falling sicknesse, which at once deadeth or benummeth all the senses, as if they were cast in­to some déepe fléepe. And to concl [...]de, as too much hunger or thirst in children, doth blunt the edge of their wit and memo­ry, so too much meate doth make the [...] blockish and dull wit­ted, if wée may credite Aristo [...]le, because that little sparke of the minde is as it were ouer▪whelmed with vndigested matter.

Fab.

Is then the minde a bodily substance, that it may bée affected with bodily things.

Eu [...].

[...]he very nature of the reasonable soule, is not cor­ [...] [...], but her original instruments being corrup­ted, her force an [...] [...] is hin [...]ered: as it booteth not a wo [...]ke­man [Page] to excell in his Art, if he want [...]t tooles to worke with­all.

Fab.

Of what quantity or shape is the soule?

Eut.

What a ridiculous question is that, séeing you con­fesse it to be without body?

Fab.

I meane a body that may [...]e felt.

Eut.

But those [...]hings are most pe [...]t which are not selt, as God and Angells.

Fab.

I heare that God and Angells are called spirites, but a spirite we feele.

Eut.

The holy Scriptures in vsing this word, do but st [...]m­mer as it were for our rude vnderstanding sake, meaning thereby, a minde pure and frée from all comerc [...] and society of sensible things.

Fab.

What difference then is there betwéene Angells andThe differéce betwee [...]e an Angel and a soule. soules?

Eut.

Euen the same that is betwéene a dew snaile, and a shel snaile.

Fab.

Then the body is rather the soules house, than the soules instrument.

Eutrap.

There is no let to the contrary, but that one and the same thing may be called both an instrument, & a house. But of this matter the Philosophers doe not agrée, some call the body the soules garment, some the soules house, some the s [...]ules instrument, and some the soules harmony. NowWhat the soule is to the body. which soeuer of all these you list to call it, it will followe thereupon, that the actions of the minde are hindered by the affections of the body. First, if the body be that to the soule which the garment is to the body: how much the gar­ment makes to the health of the body, Hercules hath shewed: to say nothing of the colours of haires and kindes of skinnes. But whether one soule may suffice to we are out many bo­dies, as one body doth to weare out many garments, I leaue that to Pythagoras to tell.

Fabulla

It were not amisse if (according to the opinion of Pythagoras) it were lawfull to change soules as well as garments: then in winter a man might haue a fatte bo­dy, [Page] and w [...]ll lined, and in summer a leane.

Eut.

But I thinke it were not very commodious, if as when many garments are worne, the body it self at last wea­reth: so, many bodies being worne, at last the soule should wax old, and we are too.

Fab.

No truely.

Eut.

Now as it maketh much to the health and agility of the body, to sée with what garment it be clad: so is it very ma­teriall what body the soule carrieth about with it.

Fab.

Truely, if the body be the garment of the soule, I sée many men very diuersly clad.

Eut.

So it is: and yet the greatest part of this matter resteth in vs, to sée how [...]itly the soule be clothed.

Fab.

Therefore let goe the garment, and say something of the house.

Eutrap.

I will. But lest that I say vnto thée may séeme a fable, Fabulla, the Lord Iesus himselfe calleth his body a Temple. And Peter the Apostle calleth his body a tabernacle. And some sticke not to cal the body the soules sepulchre. Some call it the mindes priso [...]: and many call it a Tower. Now [...], quasi [...]. heare the reasons: That minde that is pure in all parts, dwelleth in a temple: that soule that is not captiue to the loue of corporall things, dwelleth in a tabernacle, and would willingly remooue out of it, if her Commander would call for her: that soule that is blinded with most filthy lusts, that it can neuer aspire to the wholesome liberty of the Gospel, that lieth in a sepulchre. But they which painefully wrestle with their sinnes, and as yet cannot doe as they would, their soules dwell in a prison, still crying vnto him that is the deli­uerer of all his seruants, saying; Bring my soule out of priso [...], that it may praise thy name O Lord. They which fiercely fight with Sathan, watching his sleights, who goeth a­bout like a roaring Lion, séeking whome hée may deuoure, their soule liueth, as it were, in a Garrison or Campe, from whence it is in no wise lawfull to departe, without warrant from the Generall and Commaunder of the field.

[Page]Fab.

If the body be the soules lodging, I sée many whose soules are but sorily lodged.

Eut.

It is very true, euen in houses that [...]e [...] dropping, da [...]ke, and dus [...]ish, subiect to all w [...]nde and weather, [...]moky, filthy, flegmatique, rhumatike, torne and ruinous, rotten and inf [...]cted: and yet Cato doth iudge it the first part of happinesse, to dwel wel.

Fab.

It were somewhat tolerable, if it were lawfull to go out of one house into another.

Eut.

To remoue is not lawful, vntill the Landlord that placed the soule shal call for it. But though it be not lawfull to let the soule out of her dwelling: yet it is very lawfull and fitte too, by Art and Care, to make the soules dwelling house more commodious a [...]d hansome than it is, as in houses wée sée the windowes are altered, the ground is raised, the walles are plaistered, the dust is swept out, and the roomes are clensed with fire and perfume. This to doe in an old body, all ruinated and ready to drop downe, is most hard. But it is to great purpose, if a childe be looked vnto as it ought to be [...]rom his birth.

Fab.

You would haue a woman to bee both mother, and nurse, and Phisitian too.

Eut.

I would so indéede, as touching [...]he choice and mode­ration of meate and drinke, and of exercise, and of sléepe, andNote tha [...] well. bathing, and anointing, and rubbing, and dressing, and cloa­thing. How many thinke you are subiect to most gréeuous dis­eases and vices, as the falling-sicknesse, lea [...]enesse, weake­nesse, [...]afenesse, their loines broken, their members pulled [...] ­way, their braines weake, and their mindes dull and sottish, and all through the grosse ignorance or vnconscionable negli­gence of nurses.

Fab.

It is meruaile that you were not made a Francis­cane Friar in stéede of a Painter, you preach so wel.

Eut.

When I sée you become a St. Clare, then will I bée a Franciscan, and p [...]each vnto you.

Fab.

Tr [...]ely I am very desirous to know what the soule is, of which we heare and talke so much, séeing no man euer saw it.

[Page]Eutr.

Nay, there is none that hath eies but hath séene it.

Fab.

I sée soules pictured like a little infant, but why haue they not wings like Angels?

Eut.

Bicause when they fell from heauen, they brake their wings, if there be any credite to be giuen to the [...]ables of So­crates.

Fab.

How then are they saide to flie vp into heauen?

Eutr.

Because [...]aith and charitie haue caused them to haueThe wings of the soule. new wings. These wings did he desire, that being wearie of the cottage of his body, cryed out, Who shall giue vnto me the wings of a Doue, that I may flie from hence, and take my rest? for other wings the soule hath none, being incorporeall, ney­ther hath it any shape that can be séene with bodily eyes, but those things are more certainely discerned, which we sée with the eies of our minde. Do you beléeue that there is a God?

Fab.

That I doe most stedfastly.

Eutr.

But nothing can be lesse séene than God.

Fab.

He is séene in things created.

Eutr.

In like manner is the soule séene in the actions of theHow thesoule is seene. soule: if thou demaundest what it dooth in a liuing bodie, doo but looke vpon a dead bodie. When you sée a man féele, sée, heare, mooue, vnderstand, remember, and discourse, you doe more certainely sée the soule in presence, than you doe nowe sée this same potte, for one sence may be deceiued, but so ma­ny arguments drawne from all the sences, can by no meanes faile.

Fab.

Wel then, if you cannot shew me the [...]oule, then des­cribe it vnto me by certaine markes, as you woulde describe Caesar, whome I haue not séene.

Eutr.

Aristotles definition I haue ready for you.

Fab.

Whats that? for they say he is a very good descipherer of all things.

Eutr.

The soule (saith he) is An acte of an Organicall and naturall bod [...]e, hauing life in power. Aristotles de­finition of th [...] soule exami­ned.

Fab.

Why dooth he call it an Act, rather tha [...] a Iourney, or a Way?

Eut.

Here is no warning giuen to Carters, or horseme [...], [Page] but the state or manner of the soule is defined. And the acte he calleth the Forme, the nature whereof is to doe, when the nature of any matter is to suffer: And euery naturall motion of the bodie procéedeth from the soule: and the motion of the bodie is diuers.

Fab.

I vnderstand it, but why dooth hée adde Organicall?

Eut.

Because the soule doth nothing but by meanes of the instruments of the bodie.

Fab.

Why doth he adde Naturall?

Eutr.

Because Daedalus would counterfet such a bodie, but in vaine: and therefore he addeth, hauing life in power. Eue­ry thing receiueth not forme, but onely such matter as is ca­pable of forme.

Fab.

What if an Angell shoulde enter into the body of a man?

Eutr.

Hée might worke indéede, but not by naturall or­gans, or instruments of nature: neither could he giue life vn­to the body, the soule being away.

Fabu.

Haue I nowe the whole definition and manner of the soule?

Eutr.

According to Aristotle you haue.

Fab.

Truly I haue heard great speaking of him, as of a famous Philosopher, but I feare, that if a centurie of wise men should so write v [...]to me, I may charge them with here­s [...]e, if I may gainesay them, or fréely speake my mind. Other­wise, whatsoeuer he hath said of the soule of man, may be said of an asse, and an oxe.

Eut.

Yea of a béetle, and of a snaile.

Fab.

What difference then is there betwéene the soule of a beast, and the soule of a man?

Eut.

They that say the soule is nothing else than a harmo­nie of the qualities of the bodie, doe not make any great diffe­rence. For if it be so, then this forsooth will [...]ollowe, the har­monie being broken, the soules of both doe perish alike. It is not reason it selfe surely that distinguisheth the soule of a man from the soule of a beast, but this we may say, that the soule [...] a beast knoweth or vnderftandeth lesse than the soule of a [Page] man, euen as we sée some men also to knowe and vnderstand lesse than a beast.Es [...]y 1.

Fab.

Surely they haue but a beastly minde.

Eutr.

But this you knowe Fabul [...]a, that according to the nature of the Lute, the harmonie is the swéeter.

Fab.

I graunt that.

Eutr.

Neither doth it alittle skil, of what wood and fashion the Lute be made.

Fab.

And you say true, for some wood is better than some, and the fashioning of a thing is a great matter.

E [...]trap.

Neither are the strings made of euery beastes in­trales.

Fab.

So I haue heard.

Eut.

And these strings also, through the drienesse or moy­sture of the ayre that incloseth them, are often times shrunke vppe, or rotten, and by that meanes wil not holde the strain­ing.

Fab.

That I haue séene oftner than once.

Eutr.

By this then you may be able to performe no small helpe to your little infant, that his mind may haue an instru­ment wel tempered, and tuned, that it be not loose by slouth, nor too shril through wrath, nor hoarce through drunkennes, for oftenti [...]es these affections are graffed in vs by education and want of good diet.

Fab.

I doe take your admonition in good part: but I looke how you can defend Arist [...]tle.

Eutr.

Truely, hée did but in generall tearmes describe the soule, liuing, growing and féeling. The soule giu [...]th life,Of the li [...]e of tre [...]s. but it is not foorthwith a liuing creature that l [...]th: for trées doe both liue and waxe olde, and die, but they féele nothing: though some do attribute vnto them a certain kind of stupide sence: In the clifts or ioynt [...] there is scarce any sence perc [...]i­ued, but in spunge there is, w [...] it is plucked off: In trées, those that are fellers of timber doe discerne some s [...]nce, ( [...] we may beleeue them) for they say, that if one do strike [...] tree with the palme of his hand, w [...]ich h [...] would fell (as timber men vse to doe) it is the more hardly cutte downe, because [Page] for feare (forsooth) it hath s [...]runke it s [...]lfe, togither: but that thatA very ieast. hath life and sence is a liuing creature. And there is no l [...]t to the contrary, but that may be v [...]getable, or growing, which wanteth sense, as doe mushromes, béetes, and colewortes, &c.

Fab.

If these things do féele, or liue, in any sort, if they be mou [...]d when they grow ripe, what [...] that they may not be called liuing creatures?

Eutr.

It did not séeme good vnto our Ancestours to haue it so, and it is not lawfull for vs to be wiser than our forefa­thers, neither is it any thing to the matter that wee haue in hand.

Fab.

But I can not endure, that the life of a scarabée, or béetle flie, and the soule of a man should be all [...]ne.

Eutrap.

They are not all one, good woman, but after a sorte, thy soule dooth giue life, and growing, and sence vnto thy body: and so dooth the soule of a scarabée in his bodie: for whereas the soule of a man doth something which the soule of the scarabée cannot doe, the cause is in the matter, that can neither sing nor say, because it w [...]nteth fitte instruments for those [...]ffices.

Fab.

This then you say, that if the soule of a scarabée shoulde passe into the body of a man, it shoulde doe the same things that the soule of a man dooth.

Eutr.

Nay nor yet the soule of an Angell (as I haue she­wed) but there is no difference [...] an Aungell and the soule of a man, sauing that the soule of man was created to liue and mooue in a humane body furnished with naturall in­struments, and to gouerne the same: and in like manner the soule of a scarabée, to mooue onely the body of a scarabée. An­gells be not created to that end that they should giue life vnto bodies, but to vnderstand without bodily instruments.

Fab.

And can not the soule of man doe the same, I pray you?

Eutrapilus

Yes truely, when it is parted from the bo­die.

Fab.

Belike then hée is not his owne man, (as they say) [Page] while he is in the bodie.

Eutr.

Truely no, vnlesse something ha [...]pen be [...]de the com­mon course of nature.

Fab.

But me thinke, that for one soule, you haue powredObi [...]. me out many soules, as one that giueth life, an other that causeth to growe, another that giueth sence, another that af­foordeth vnderstanding, another that bestoweth memory, an­other that is the guider of the will, an other that kindleth an­ger, and another that begetteth lust: One had beene enough for me.

Eut.

One and the same soule effecteth diuers a [...]tions, andAnswer. in respect of those it hath diuers surnames (as it were) as a thinking so [...]le, a sensible soule, an vnderstanding soule, &c.

Fab.

I doe not well vnderstand you.

Eutr.

But I will cause you to vnderstand me, you are inA similitude. your bed chamber a wife, in your shop a weauer of tapistry, in your ware house a seller of tapistry, in your kitchin a cooke, among your seruants a mistris, and among your children a mother, and yet notwithstanding all these, you are in one and the same house.

Fab.

So then belike the minde is in the body, as I am in my house.

Eut.

Right.

Fab.

But when I worke in my shop, I play not the cooke in my kitchin.

Eut.

That is because you are not all soule, but you haue a soule that carrieth a body about with it, and your body can­not be in many places at once: the soule, because it is not a compound, but a simple forme, is so in the whole body, that it is whole in euery part of the body, although it cannot effect the same thing by euery parte, neither can she effect the same things which shée effecteth in the same maner alwayes, how­soeuer hir instruments be affected: for shée vnderstandeth and remēbreth in the brain, she is angry in the hea [...]t, she lusteth in the liuer, she hearet [...] in the eares, séeth in the eies, smelleth in the nostrils, tasteth in the palate and tongue, & féeleth in al the parts of the body, that haue any sinewy matter adioyning: for [Page] neither doth she féele in the haires of the head, nor in the nailes of the fingers, neither can the lights, or the liuer féele of them­selues, nor peraduenture the spl [...]ne.

Fab.

Therefore it quickeneth and refresheth onely in cer­taine parts of the bodie.

Eut.

So it séemeth.

Fab.

If one and the same soule effecteth all these things in one man, then it followeth that the Infant in the wombe, soWhether the soule perfor­meth all her offices in an Infant or no. soone as it increaseth, which is a signe of life, it dooth also at the same instant féele and vnderstand, &c. vnlesse perhaps at the beginning of one man there bée manie soules, and afterward, (all the rest giuing place) one onely dooth all, so that fir [...]t a man shall be a plant, and then a liuing creature, and last of all, a man.

Eut.

That which you say séemeth not verie absurd vnto Aristotle: but to vs it is more probable, that togither with the life is infused a reasonable soule, or a soule indued with rea­son, but that which as a little fire, drenched out of measure with abundance of moist matter, cannot as yet shew forth his force and strength.

Fab.

The soule therefore is bound to that bodie which it rul [...]th, and moueth, is it not?

Eut.

No otherwise then a Snaile is to her shell, which she carrieth about with hir.

Fab.

She mooueth her shel indéed, yet so as she is also ther­withall moued her-selfe: as the maister of a ship turneth the ship which way he listeth, but in the meane time he is also moued with his ship.

Eut.

Yea, or rather as a Squirrell whéeleth about the rol­ling Cage, and in the meane time is moueable him sel [...]e.

Fab.

And so the soule both affecteth and is affected againe.

Eut.

Truly yea, as touching her operations.

Fab.

Then belike, in respect of nature, the soule of a Black­m [...]re, is equall with the soule of king Salomon.

Eut.

True, there is no ab [...]urditie in that.

Fab.

And so are Angels alike too, sith they want matter, or materiall substaunce, which (as you say) is the cause of [Page] inequalitie.

Eut.

We haue Philosophie enough n [...]w, rather let Di­uines canuas these poynts, and let vs go to the matter that we beganne withall. If you will be a whole mother, look [...] The dutie of a mother. your selfe to the little bodie of your tender Infant, that so, after that he hath vnfolded himselfe of those vapours, which are as sparkles to the minde, it may vse good and fitte instruments. So often as you heare your childe crying like a childe, thinke with your self that he doth instantly require it at your hands. When you sée vpon your breast, these two as it were swel­ling fountaines of milke, and flowing of their owne accord [...] with that milkie liquour, then thinke how nature doth admo­nish you of your dutie. Otherwise, when your childe shall learne to speake, and in his pleasant and prettie stammering language, shall call you mother, with what face can you heare this of him to whom you, haue denied your pappes, and haue turned ouer to a hired papp [...] euen as if you had put it out to a goate or a shéepe. When he shall be able to speake and know good from euill, what if he should call you, n [...]t mother, but halfe mother? It may be you will trie what the rod will do [...]: but she is scarce halfe a mother, which refuseth to nurse that which she hath brought forth. The better part of mother-hood is the nur [...]ing of the tender babe. For it is not nursed onelie with milke, but also with the swéete scent or smell of the mo­thers bodie, it craueth the same liquour that it was familiar­ly acquainted withall before, which it su [...]ked in the bodie, and whereby it grew together. And I am of this minde, that in children, wit is corrupted by the nature of the Milke which they sucke; euen as we sée in plants and fruites, their nature is chaunged, and altered, euen by the moysture of the earth which doth nourish them. Do you thinke this Prouerb cameA Prouerbe too true. of nothing: This naughtinesse he sucked in with his nurses milke?

Truly, I am not of the Grecians minde, who were woont to say, that nurses do signifie one that is ill fed: for they put a little chawed meate into the Infants mouth, and swallow the greatest part thems [...]lues. And therefore she hath not brought foorth truly, that dooth presently cast away that she [Page] hath trauailed of; for this is not kindly to bring forth, but to come afore the time. And vnto such kinde of mothers may ve­rie [...], à [...], i. à non seruand [...]. well agrée in my opinion that deriuation which the Gre­cians haue giuen of the Greèke worde which signifieth mo­ther. And that is [...] which they say commeth of [...], that is, mother of not sauing: for to take altogither a hired Nurse for a poore tender Infant, as yet warme from the mother, is a kinde of exposing, or casting it foorth to ha­zarde.

Fab.

I should yéeld vnto that you say, if there were not chosen such a woman in whome nothing is wanting that should be in a nurse.

Eut.

As if (forsooth) it were no matter what milke the ten­der Infant do sucke, or what slauer it swaloweth downe with his meate that she hath chawed and champed before. But i­magin that such a nurse may be gotten, as I know not where such a one can be had, doe you thinke that there is any which possibly can digest all the wearinesse and irkesomnesse that is in nursing as the mother can? Is there any that can brooke all the foule handes, th [...] sittings, the watchings, the cry­ings, the diseases, and diligent care of preseruing the childe, (which can neu [...]r b [...]e inough) as the mother can? If there can bée founde anie whose loue is equall with the mothers loue, then may her care also bee equall with the mothers care.

And why may not that also come to passe, that your sonne may loue you but to the halfes, whenas that natiue loue is as it were distracted, & diuided betwéen two mothers? neither can you be caried with the like natural affection toward your son: As he groweth in yeares, so he shall be more vnwilling to o­bey your commaundements, and your care will be the colder towards him, in whose behauiour perhaps you shall sée his nurse. And the chiefest step to learning, is the mutuall loue that is betwéene the teacher and the schaller. Therefore, if he shall loose nothing of that swéete sauour which naturall affec­tion yéeldeth, you shall the more easily drop into him the pre­cepts of liuing well: For here the mothers helpe is not small, [Page] euen in this respect, that she will teach him that, which both for matter and maner, will be most pleasing, and in all points to be imitated.

Fab.

Now I perceiue, that it is not so easie a matter to be a mother, as it is commonly supposed to be.

Ent.

If you doe not bl [...]ue mee, b [...]holde Saint Paul spe [...]ks plainly vnto you, (speaking of the woman he saith) she1. Tim. 2. 15. shall be saued by bearing of children.

Fab.

Then they shall be saued which she bear [...]th.

Eut.

Not so, but he addeth, if her children continue in the faith and loue, with holinesse and modestie, so that you haue not yet done the part of a mother, vnlesse you first frame a­right his tender bodie, and then his mind as tender as that with good education.

Fab.

But this is not in the mothers pow [...]r, that the chil­dren shall continue in faith and godlinesse.

Eut.

It may be so, but for all that, vigilant admonition is of such force, that Paul thinkes it to be laide to the mothers charge, if their children degenerate from godly courses. And to conclude, if you shal but that do which lieth in you to perform, God will adde his helpe vnto your diligence.

Fab.

Truly Eutrapilus your speach hath perswaded me, if you can in like manner pe [...]swade my friendes, and my hus­band.

Eut.

That will I vndertake, so that you will helpe me with your cons [...]nt.

Fab.

That I do assure you I will.

Eut.

But may I not see your child?

F [...]b.

Yes, that you shall most willingly. Doe you heare Syrisca? Call hither the nurse, and bid her bring the Infant with her.

Eut.

A very fine child, the saying is, that the first trial must haue a pardon, but you vpon the first triall, haue shewed euen the perfection of Art.

Fab.

It is no grauen Image, that it should néed any art.

Eut.

True, for it is a molten Image, but howsoeuer it be, it fell out m [...]st happily, I would that those Images which [Page] you make in your tapistrie work, may haue no worse successe.

Fab.

But you on the other side are better at painting than begetting of children.

Eut.

So it seemed good vnto nature, to fit and match eue­rie mans turne: how carefull is nature that nothing may pe­rish; see how she hath represented two persons in this one childe; the nose and eies resemble the father; the fore-heade and chinne the mother. Can you commit such pretious pledge to another bodies trust? Me thinke they are double cruell that are able to doe it: for that is not done onely with the pe­rill of the Infant that is put away, but also with their owne perill, because the milke which is corrupted by chaunge, doth oftentimes bréede most perillous diseases. And therefore it falleth out, that while they prouide for the fashion or beautie of one bodie, they neglect the liues of two bodies, and while they go about to preuent sudden old age, they cast themselues into an vntimely death; but I will go sée what I can do with your husband and friends.

Fab.

I pray God you may preuaile.

A pleasant Dialogue of a Popish Pil­grimage: notably setting forth the glorious felicitie and admirable vti­litie of the Catholike Religion.

The speakers names.
  • Menedemus a Philosopher.
  • Ogygius, one of Thebes.
Mene.

WHat newes is this? Do I not sée my neighbor Ogygius that hath not bin séene this six months full? The speach was, that he was dead: sure [Page] it is he, [...]nlesse I be much deceiued. I will go and salute him: God saue you Ogygius.

Ogyg.

And you also Menedemus.

Men.

What region hath sent you hither so safe? For the rumor went here, that you were dead.

Ogyg.

I thanke God I was so well all the time of my be­ing abroad, that I was neuer better in all my life.

Men.

Thus you euer proue such spreaders of rumors to be but vaine men: but what manner of apparell haue you gotten there? Me thinke you are beset with pearles, or wilkes like Gutter-tiles, you are ful of Images, both of Ti [...]ne and Lead, you are trimly decktindéed, with straw Garlands, and Ser­pents Egges vpon your sléeues.

Ogyg.

Oh sir, I haue visited Saint Iame [...] of Compostella andSt Iames of Compost [...]. [...]rom thence I went to visite, or rather, to reuisite, that holy Uirgin, by the sea coa [...]t, called our Ladie of Walsingham, that is in so great account in England: for about some thrée year [...] since I did visite her before.

Men.

For your pleasure sake, I thinke.

Ogyg.

Nay, for religion sake.

Men.

This religion I thinke you learned, when you lear­ned Gréeke.

Ogyg.

No, good sir, but my wiues mother bound her selfe by a vow, that if her daughter did bring forth a sonne aliue, I should go in mine owne person, and salute St. Iames of Com­postella, and giue him thankes for it.

Men.

Did you salute the Saint onely in your own name, and your mother in law?

Ogyg.

Yea, in the name of all my familie.

Men.

Surely I thinke your familie should haue done e­uen as well, if you had neuer gone to salute Saint Iames: but I pray what answer did he make you, when you thanked him for your s [...]nne?

Ogyg.

None at all: but when I gaue him my present, hée séemed to smile, and a little to nod with his head, and withall, reached me this hollow shell.

Me.

Why doth he bestow such gifts rather thā other things?

[Page]Ogyg.

Because he hath aboundaunce of them, the se [...] being so nea [...].

Mene.

A good saint indéede, which doth both the parte of a Midwife to women in child bed, and is so bountifnll vnt [...] strangers. But what new kinde of vowing call you this, that one that is idle shoulde enioyne another to labour? If you shoulde make a vowe, that if you shoulde spéede w [...]ll in some thinges that you [...]oe about, I shoulde fast twice in a wéeke. Doe you thinke that I must doe that which you haue vowed?

Ogyg.

I doe not thinke you would doe so, although you had vowed it in your owne name, for you make but a sport of it to mocke the Saints, or to besmeare their mouthes: but she is my mother, and I must obey her, you know the affections of women, and it stoode me vpon.

Mene.

If you had not performed hir vow, what had béene the danger?

Ogyg.

I confesse that the Saint could not haue sued mée at lawe for it, bu [...] heereafter he might pe [...]happes giue but deafe eare to my prayers, or sende some calamitie vppon my family and neuer make wordes of the matter: you know the fashion of princes & great persons, whē they [...]ake against one.

Mene.

I pray tel me, how doth that good man, Iames, how doth he?

Ogyg.

Much celder and poorer than he was wont to be.

M [...].

Whats the cause, his old ag [...]? I think he be very olde.

Ogyg.

Away tri [...]ler, away, you knowe that Saints waxe not olde, but this new perswasion that is gone ouer all the worlde, is the cause that he is not so often visited as hée was wont: and if any chaunce to come vnto him, they salute him onely, but they geue him li [...]e or nothing. thinking that that money were better bestowed [...]on the poore fo [...]s, yea, and the [...] will not sticke to saie so too.

Men [...].

Oh wicked p [...]rswasion!

Ogyg.

Alas the more is the pittie. And therefore so great an [...]postle, which was woont to glister all with gold and pre­c [...]ous stones, now standes like a wodden thing hauing scarce [Page] tallow candle be [...]re him.

Men.

Thats great pitty: but if it be as I heare, I promise you it is very like that all other Saints will be serued with the same sawce.

Ogyg.

Tis true indéede, [...]r there is an [...]pistle [...] which the virgin Mary her selfe hath written of this matter.

Mene.

What Mary is that?

Og.

She that hath her surname of a stone.

Men.

If I be not decein [...]d, it is sh [...] that is amongst the peo­ple of Belgi [...].

Og.

The very same.

Men.

To whom did she write?

Og.

The epistle it selfe sheweth that.

Men.

By whom was it sent?

Og.

No doubt, by an Angell, which when he had written it, set it vp in a pulpit where he preacheth, to whome it was sent: And because you shall suspect no fraud in the matter, you shall see the Epistle that was written with the Angells owne hand.

Mene.

Do y [...]u so well knowe that Angels hand that is se­cretary to the virgin Mary?

Og.

Why not?

Mene.

How doe you know it?

Og.

I haue read Bedes Epitaph, which was giuen by an Angell, the formes of the letters doe agrée in all poyntes. And I haue read a quittance sent to Saint Giles: they all agrée, is not this sufficient proofe of the matter?

Mene.

May I not sée it?

Og.

Yes, if you will promise me to be secret.

Mene.

As secret as a stone.

Og.

And there be stones nowadayes that are infamous in this respect, that they can keepe nothing close.

Men.

Th [...]n you shall speake to one that is dumbe if you trust not stones.

Og.

Upon that condition I wil reade it vnto you, hearken with [...]oth your cares.

Men.

So [...] I will.

Og.
[Page]

¶The Epistle of the virgin Mary.

MAry the mother of Iesus, to Glaucoplutus sendes gréeting. Whereas you following Luther doe earnestly perswade men, that it is more than neede to pray vnto Saints. Know, that in this respect you are much in my fauour: for vntill of late I was euen tyr [...]d with the wicked complaints and lamentations of mortall men. To one wo­man they came still for euery thing, as if my sonne should be still an infant, because he is so painted in my bosome, and as if he should still be at his mothers becke, and as if hée durst de­ny me nothing that I should demaund of him, for feare (for­sooth) that I should deny him my teats when he were a thirst. And many times they craue those things of me being a vir­gin, which a shamefast yong man durst scarce demaund of a common harlot, and which I am ashamed to commit to wri­ting. In the meane time the Merchants Factor being boun [...] for Spaine, commits to my charge the honesty of his concubine: And the holy Nunne (forsooth) hauing cast away hir vaile, and ready to runne away, commits vnto me the fame of h [...]r in­tegrity, which she is determined to prostitute and make com­mon: The wicked souldier makes a pitifull crie vnto me, and when he is conducted to the slaughter house to filch and pi [...]er, then he crieth, O blessed virgin, giue me a good bootie. [...]hen comes the [...]icer and gamster, and he crieth, fauor me O bles­sed saint, and thou shalt haue part of our winnings. And if the dice doe not fauor them, then they terme me with reproches, and curse me most [...]itterly. The couetous worldling that ex­poseth himselfe to filthy lucre, he cryeth, send me a plentifull encrease. If I deny them any thing, straitway they exclaime against me, that I am not the mother of pittie. The prayers of some others are as foolish as impious: the vnmarried wo­man crieth, Mary, send me a faire and rich husband: the mar­ried woman crieth, giue me prety children: shée that is greatBe [...] C [...] calleth to me for a happy deliuerance: the olde woman crieth out v [...]to me, that she may liue long without the cough and thirst: the d [...]ating olde man he crieth, let me be yong againe: the philosopher he crieth, let me be able to resolue hard questi­ons: [Page] the priest crieth, send me a fatte benefice: the bishop cry­eth, keepe my church for me: the marriner crieth, giue mée a prosperous voyage: the maister of the ship cryeth, shew me thy sonne before I die: the courtier cryeth, gra [...]nt I may make a true confession at the houre of my death: the country man hée cries, send vs raine in due season: the country woman cries, kéepe my heird of cattell, and my poultry in safety: if they do not spéede of their sute, by and by I am cruell. If I send them to my sonne, they tel me, that what I wil, he wil. Must I that am a woman alone, and a virgin, giue attendance to saylers, to souldiers, to merchants, to dicers, to married, and vnmarri­ed, to women in child▪bed, to captaines, to kings, and to clownes. But that which I haue said is nothing to that which I haue endured, but with these affaires I am now nothing so much troubled as I was wont to be: in which respect I should surely giue you great thanks if this commodity did not bring with it a greater discommoditie. I haue now more ease, butNo commo­ditie witl out a discommo­dity. lesse honour and wealth than I was wont to haue, I was w [...]nt to be saluted in this maner, O Quéene of heauen, La­dy of the worlde, now I scarce heare Aue Maria, and that but of a few neither. I was wont to be clad in golde and pretious stones: I had golden gifts, and set with pearles brought vn­to me, now I haue scarce halfe a cloake to couer me withall, and that also gnawne with mice: my yéerely reuenues will hardly maintaine a poore miserable house, wherein to light a tallow candle: but these things yet might somewhat be borne, if it were not reported that you goe about greater matters: your shooting (as they say) is at this, that whatsoeuer was gi­uen to the Saints, you would take away from all religious houses. I charge you againe and againe, take héed what you doe: there is not wanting vnto other saints wherewith to bée reuenged of the iniuries that shalbe [...]ffred vnto them. If Peter be cast out of the temple, he can shut heauen gate against you. Paul hath a sword: Bartholomew a knife, Wil [...]iam is all armed vnder a Monkes habite, not without a gréeuous launce: but how will you be able to [...]eale against George, who is both a horseman, and armed from top to toe, both with a spea [...]e and [Page] a [...]erible sword? Neither is [...] vnarmed, for he hath the holy fire. And the rest haue either their weapo [...]s, or their e­uilles, wherewith they can méete whome they list. And as for me, though I be vnarmed, yet for all that, you shall not cast me out, vnlesse you will also cast out my Sonne, whom [...] I holde in my armes. I do not meane to be parte [...] from him: either you shal thrust vs both out, or leaue vs both in, vnlesse you will haue a Temple without a Christ. These things I thought good to let you vnderstand. Now bethinke your selfe of an answer, for surely this matter dooth much trouble mée. From our stone-house the Calends of August, in the yéere af­ter my Sonnes sufferings 1524.

I the blessed virgin haue subscribed hereunt [...] with mine ow [...]e hand.
Men [...].

Truely this is a menac [...]g, &c. terrible Epistle. I thinke Gla [...]coplutus will take héede what he doth.

Og.

If he be wise.

Mene.

Why did not that good man Saint Iames write to him of this matter?

Og.

I cannot tel, vnlesse it be bicause he dwels so farre off, and nowadaies almost all letters are intercepted.

Mene.

How camest thou into England?

Og.

The winde being so prosperous did inuite me thither, and I had passed my promise before to that Saint by the Sea coast, that after two yéeres I would see her againe.

Mene.

What sute had you to her?

Og.

No new matter, but all ordinary, that my familie might be in health, that my wealth might encrease, and that I might enioy a long and happy life in this worlde, and euer­lasting happinesse in the world to come.

Menedemus.

Coulde not our virgine mother at Antwerpe haue doone all this for you as well as shée at Walsingham? her temple at Antwerpe is farre more renowned than that by the sea coast.

Og.

I do not deny but she can, but in other places she giues [Page] [...]ther things, either because it séemeth good vnto her so to doe, or else, for that (as indeede she is a kinde woman) she may ap­ply her sel [...]e to our desires.

Me.

Of S. Iames I haue heard often: but I pray thée nowThe Lady of W [...]am, he [...] dominion described. describe vnto me the dominion of that Saint by the sea coast.

Ogy

That wil I doe euen as briefly as I can: her name is most famous all England ouer, neither can you hardly finde any one in that Iland, that doth looke for any good successe in his businesse, vnlesse hee doe once a yeare visite her with some pre [...]ent.

Men.

Whereaway is she?

Ogy.

At the furthest part of England betwéene the North and the West, not aboue thrée miles from the sea. It is a town that hath little else to liue vpon, then of the great tumult of guests that daily r [...]sort thither in pilgrimage. There is a col­ledge of canons that are calld R [...]gular, a middle sort between Monks and Secular Priests.

Men

You tell mee now of such as liue as wel in the wa­ter, as on the la [...]d, as the Beuer.

Ogy.

Yea, and so doth the Crocodile: but to leaue this ca­uelling, I will tell you in three words that which you would know. In things that they like not, they are Canons, but in things that fauour them, they are Monkes.

Men.

T [...]is is a r [...]ddle, I vnderstand it not.

Ogy.

Then I wil vse a mathematicall demonstration. IfA Riddle. the Pope shall chance to excommunicate all the [...]onks, then they are Canons, and no Monkes: But if the [...] shall li­cence all Monkes to marry, then they are Monkes, and [...] Canons.

Men.

O strange priuiledges! I would they would take my wife too.

Ogy.

But to the matter. This Coll [...]dge hath scarce an [...] o­ther reuenewes to liue vpon, but wh [...]t commeth by the libe­rality o [...] this Uirgine: for their greater rewards and gifts are kept in store. But if there be any mony, or any thing of small valew giuen, that goeth to the maintenance of the whole Col­ledge, and their [...]resident, who [...] they call the Prior.

[Page]Men.

A very good life.

Ogy.

There is no fault found with it: they grow richer by their deuout piety, than by a yearely rent. Their Church is beautifull and costly, wherein doth not dwell the Uirgine her selfe, but for honour sake that she hath yeelded vnto her Son. She hath a Chappell by her selfe, as she is placed at the right hand of her Sonne.

Men.

Right hand? Which way then looketh her Sonne?

Ogy.

Well remembred, when he looketh toward the West, then she hath the right hand; but when he turnes himselfe to the East, then she hath the left hand: yet she doth not dwell heere neither, for her house is not yet finished, and the place very windy on euery side, the doores open, and windowes open, and the Ocean sea, the father of the windes, is hard by.

Men.

That is very hard: where then doth she kéepe?

Ogy.

In that Church that is not yet finished, there is a ve­ry narrow Chappel, floored with bordes very straight on both sides, and a very little doore to let in pilgrimes. There is al­most no light, but candle light of tapers and wax candles, a most pleasant smell.

Men.

All this is agréeable to their religion.

Ogy.

Nay Menedemus, if you did sée it, you would say it were a seate of Saints indée [...]e, all things doe so glister with gold and siluer, and pearles, and pretious stones.

Men.

You doe almost perswade me to go thither.

Ogy.

You would not repent you of your iourney.

Men.

Is there any holy oyle there?

Ogy.

Ah foole, that oyle is to be found dropping only from the scpulchres of Saints, as of St. Andrew and St. Ca [...]herine, and no where else. Mary is not yet buried.

Men.

I was in an errour I c [...]nfesse, but make an end of your tale.

Ogy.

That their religion may be spread the further abroad, other things are shewed in other places of their Colledge.

Me.

And peraduenture that their gaines may be the grea­ter, according to that common saying; By my ha [...]ds the prey is quickly gotten.

[Page]Ogy.

And in euery place there are Mistagogues (as theyMistagogu [...]. are called) that is, some speciall persons to shew reliques, and to interpret their mysteries and ceremonies to strangers.

Men.

Are they of the canons?

Ogy.

No, they are not vsed to that end, for feare that by oc­casion of their religion, they should be drawne from their re­ligion: and while they should attend vpon a Uirgine, them­selues should lose their owne virginity. Onely in the inward Chappel, which I call the bed-chamber of the blessed Uirgin, there attends a certaine canon at the Altar.

Men.

To what end?

Ogy.

To receiue and to kéepe that which is giuen.

Me.

Doe they giue that are not willing to giue?

Ogy.

Not so: but many [...]or very shame are forced to giue when they sée one stand by, which would giue nothing if there were no body, or at least they would not giue so much as they doe, when there is one by to see what they giue.

Men.

This is euen the right nature of man, and that which my selfe haue experience o [...].

Ogy.

Yea more: there be some that be so deuoted to the most holy Uirgin, that when they make as if they laid downe someThat is plaine [...]. thing vpon her Altar, they can very nimbly take away that which was laid downe by another.

Me.

Suppose that none were by, it is maruel that the blessed Uirgin her selfe do not presently thunder against such guests.

Ogy.

Why should the Uirgine doe that rather then God himselfe, whom they feare not to spoile of all his ornaments; yea, and to digge through his Church walls for them?

Men.

I cannot tell whether I should won [...]er more at their a [...]d aciousnesse, or at his lenity.

Ogy.

Therefore towardes the North side, there is a cer­taine gate, (not belonging to the Church) but a [...]uce or a wall, that kéepeth all the outward yeard adioyning to the Church. And that hath a very small portall or wicket, such as you sée in Noblemens great gates, that hee which will enter, must be inforced to put in, first his leg; and so to expose that to danger, and then his head.

[Page]Men.

Truely it is not safe for a théefe to enter at such a doore.

Ogy.

You say true. The Mistagogue told me of a certaine ri [...]er, who on a time, sitting on his horse, rode through this doore, and so escaped his enemies hands, who followed him at the hard héeles. There the m [...]erable man dispairing of himselfe▪ hee suddenly commended his state to the blessed Uirgine, which was in the next roome: for he was determined to flie to her Altar for refuge, if the great gates had béene o­pen. And behold a very strange thing, suddenly the horse­manA [...], but [...]o li [...]. was within the Church walles, though the gates were not opened, and his enemy stood raging and fretting without, but all in vaine.

Men.

But did he make this admirable tale of any credite?

Ogy.

Yes that he did.

Men.

That was not so easily done, you being a Philoso­pher and a wise man.

Ogy.

He shewed me nailed vpon the doore, a copper plate, with that horse-mans picture vpon it that was so preserued, and in the same manner of apparrell, that then was vsed in England, and such as we sée vpon antient pictures, which (if they lie not) doe shew plainely that Barbers and Taylors in those daies, were not much set by.

Men

How so?

Ogy.

Because hée was bearded like a goate, and all his ap­parrell was with [...]ut any plait, no bigger then his body, and sate close to his body.

Men.

Now ther is no doubt to be made of that matter.

O [...]y.

Under the threshold was an yron grate, which none could, goe vpon but onely footemen, for it was not méete that any horse should trample vpon that place, after the former ri­der had consecrated it to the blessed Uirgine.

Men.

No reason why he should.

Ogy.

Heere towards the East is a Chappell full of strange sights, thither go I, wher we met with another Mistagogue: there we prayed alittle. By and by was [...]hewed vs the ioynt of a mans finger, the bigge [...]t of the thrée, I kissed it▪ then [Page] I demanded whose reliques those were; hee said, Saint P [...] ­ters▪ What, the Apostle? he said, yea. I looked vpon the huge­nesse of the finger, which [...]éemed to come of some Giant: I said, that S. Peter by that finger, should séeme to be a man of wond [...]rfull great body. At which word, one of my fellowes burst forth into a lowd laughter, which grieued me not alitle: for if he had kept his countenance, the Mistagogue had shew­ed vs all his reliqu [...]s, but we pleas [...]d him againe with a few groates. Before that little house was a [...]oofe or couering, which hee said, (in winter time, when all was couered ouer w [...]th snow) was on a suddaine brought thither from farre: vn­der that roofe were two wells full to the toppe, the springs whereof, (they say) are consecrated to the blessed Uirgine, the water is very cold, and good against the paine in the head and stomacke.

M [...]n.

If cold water can helpe the head and stomacke, then héereafter shall oyle quench fire.

Ggy.

O good sir, you heare of a miracle: it is no miracle for cold water to quench thirst.

Men.

And this is surely one part of a [...]able.

Ogy.

Hee affirmeth, that that fountaine did suddainelyNo lie. spring out of the ground, at the commandement of the Uir­gin Mary. I diligently obseruing euery thing, demanded of him, how many yeares since that little cotage was carried thither: he said, many ages since. Otherwise (said I) the walls doe not looke as if they were old: he did not gaine-say it: nor these woodden pillars (quoth I) hee denied not but that they were lately set vp, and the thing was plaine. Then said I, and this same thatch of réede seemeth to bee newer than all the rest: he did grant it. A [...]d these same beames and rafters which beare vppe the thatch, séeme not to bee many yeares olde: he did also grant that to be true. And when I had now examined euery part of that cabine, I said vnto him: how then doth it appeare, that this house was ma [...] age [...] since brought from afarre?

Men.

And I pray how did the Mistagogue vnti [...] this knotte?

[Page]Ogygius

Forsoothe hée presently shewed vs a very olde Beares skinne, fastened to the rafters, and in a manner derided our dulnesse and slewnesse to beléeue so manifest a proofe: so we being perswaded, craued pardon for our vn­beleefe, and so turned our selues to beholde the heauenly [...]he bless [...]d Vi [...]gins milk [...]. milke of the blessed Uirgin.

Men.

Such a sonne, such a mother: h [...]e hath left vs so much of his blood vpon earth, as is wonderfull, and she so much of her milke, as is sc [...]rce credible to come o [...] one wo­man, hauing but one childe, though the infant had neuer suc­ked any of it away.

O.

And so they reason ab [...]ut the Crosse whereupon Christ died, which is shewed in so many places, but priuately, that if the peeces thereof were brought together, they would load a ship: and yet Christ carried it all himselfe.

Men.

And doth not this also séeme a wonder vnto you?

Ogy.

Somewhat strange perhaps, but no wonder, be­cause the Lord being omnipotent, is able to augment it at his pleasure.

Me.

You make a good construction of the matter: but I feare that many such things are deuised but for lucre sake.

O.

I suppose that God would not indure any that should so abuse him.

Mene.

Yes surely, séeing as both mother and sonne, and father, and holy-ghost, (as you said) are robbed by sacrilegi­ous persons, and yet in the meane time, they séeme to be so lit­tle moued at the matter, that neither by a becke nor ma­king any noise they will make those wicked persons afraide. So great is the patience of the godhead.

O.

So it is indéede, but heare the rest: That milke is kept vpon a high Altar, in the midst of which altar, stands Christ, and for honour sake, his mother stands at his right hand, for that milke doth represent his mother.

Men.

Th [...]n it is to be [...]éene.

O.

Yea, but [...]hut vp in a christall glasse.

Men.

What, is it liquid?

O.

What talke you of liquid, for that which was mil­ked [Page] aboue [...]ue hundred yeares since: it is hardened, you would thinke it to be chalke bruised and tempered with the white of an egge.

Men.

Why do [...] they not shew it naked?

O.

Lest the Uirgins milke should be profaned with mens kisses.

Menedemu [...]

You say well, for there bee some I thinke whose lips are neyther cleane nor chaste: but goe on.

Ogy.

So soone as the Mistagogue saw vs, hée put [...]n a sur­plice, and his stole about his necke, and very deuoutly knéeled downe, and prayed, that do [...]e, he reached vs that sacred milke to kisse, and wée very deuoutly fell downe at the foote of the Altar, and haui [...]g first saluted Christ, wée called vpon the Uirgine Mary, with a short prayer that we had prouided of purpose for her in these words.

Uirgin mother, which hast m [...]rited with thy virginean breast to sucke thy sonne Iesus, the Lord of heauen and earth: our desire is, that we being clensed with his blood, may grow to that happy & reasonable infancy, which being void of all ma­lice, fraud, and guile, doth daily desire the milke of the Euan­gelicall doctrine, vnt [...]ll we come to a perfect man, and the ful­nesse of Christ, whose blessed fellowship thou inioyest for e­uer, with the Father and the Holy-ghost, Amen.

Men.

A good prayer truely, if it had béene made to the right party: but what said shée?

O.

They séemed both to bow vnto vs, vnlesse my sight failed me: for the holy milke s [...]ed to leape alittle, an [...] the ho­ly sacrament seemed to shine somewhat brighter then before. In the mean time, the Mistagogu [...] came vnto vs, very silent, and reached vs a little table to write on, such as the Ger­mans offer which take tole bridges.

Men.

Truely I haue oftentimes cursed those same pol­ling tables, when I haue gone through Germany. There was a sposing que­st [...]on indeede.

O.

Well, we gaue him some gr [...], which [...]e offred to the Uirgin. By and by I demand [...]d of him as [...]ly as I could, by an interpreter skilful in their la [...]guage, and a yong man of a smooth & eloquent tong, (I think his name was Ro: Al [...]ffe) [Page] by what arguments it might be prooued, that this was th [...] milke of the bl [...]ssed Uirgine. Which I did truely with an ho­nest minde, that so I might be able to stop the mouthes of [...]uch as are wont to laugh at all these things as fables. At the first, the Mistagogue or Usher of the reliques, with a lowring [...]ountenance held his peace. I bade the youth to vrge it still, but v [...]ry mod [...]stly, which indeede he performed very s [...]oothe­ly: insomuch, that if he had intreated the Mother her selfe with the same words, and shee lying in childe bed▪ shee could not haue taken it in i [...] part. But the Mistagogue, as if he had béen inspired with some certaine kinde of godhead, beholding as with staring eyes, (and as it were with horro [...] ex [...]ating a blasphemous spéech) said; What neede you aske s [...]ch questi­ons, when you haue an authenticall table? And he sé [...]d al­together a [...] if he would cast vs out as [...], if the g [...]oats had not somewhat asswag [...]d his furie.

Men.

What did you in the meane time?

Ogy.

What thinke you? Euen as [...] we had béene strucken with a club, or some thunder bolt, we slunke away, hu [...]bly crauing pardon for our boldn [...]sse. From thence we went to another little cabine, the bl [...]ssed Uirgines l [...]dging: as [...]ée were going thither, a certaine relique-mast [...]r of th [...] inferiour sort of them, sheweth himselfe, and beh [...]ld vs, as if he w [...]re de­siruus to know vs: wh [...]n we had gone a little furth [...]r, ano­ther met vs, and in like manner sta [...]ed vpon vs: by and by, the third.

Men.

It may be they were desirous to take your picture.

Ogy.

But I thought [...]arre [...].

Men.

What did you thinke [...] pray you?

Ogy.

Mary I was afraid, that some sacrilegious person had secretly stol [...]n away some thing o [...] o [...]r Ladies [...], and that they suspect [...]d me for the matter. Therefore, when I c [...]me into the Chappel in this manner, I salut [...]d the Uirgin [...] mother; O the onely mother and Uirgin [...] amongs [...] women [...] most happy mother, most pure Uirgine, now w [...] that are im­pure, doe visite thée that art pure, and with our poore pre [...]ents w [...] do [...] you [...]: our d [...]sire is, that thy sonne [...]ould [Page] grant that we imitating thy most holy maners, may be coun­t [...]d worthy through the grace of the holy spirit, spiritually to conceiue him in the bowels of our minde, and hauing concei­ued him, neuer to loose him. Amen. And withall hauing kisse [...] the altar, I laid downe certaine groates and went my way.

Men.

What did the virgin? did she not by a becke signifie vnto you, that your prayer was heard?

Ogyg.

The light was verie small (as I said) and she stoode in the darke at the right side of the Altar: but lastly I was so cast downe with the speach of the former Mystagogue, that I durst not looke vp.

Men.

Therefore the successe you had in this pilgrimage was not very good.

Ogyg.

Yes, most ioyfull.

Men.

Now you haue reuiued me: for before, my heart was euen fallen downe into my knees, as your Hom [...]r spea­keth.

Ogyg.

After dinner we went againe to the Church.

Men.

Durst you, being suspected of sacriledge?

Ogyg.

It may be so: but I did not suspect my selfe, and a good conscience feareth nothing. And the desire I had to sée that same table wherunto the Mystagogue referrd vs, drawn thither, and after long seeking we found it, but set vp so high that euery bodie could not read it. And I haue such eies, that I can neither be said to be sharpe-sighted, nor yet starke blind. In the meane time, Aldrise read, I conterfeyted him with mine eyes, as if I did reade, scarce trusting him in so w [...]igh­tie a matter.

Men.

Was then all your doubting shaken off?

Ogyg.

I was euen ashamed of my selfe, that had made a­ny doubt of the matter, the whole matter was so plainly laide before our eyes, the name, the place, and the whole matter in order as it was done. To be short, nothing was omitted. There was a godly man borne at Paris, they call him William, who as he is otherwise, so in this especially religious, for searching the whole world for the Reliques of Saints. He ha­uing trauailed many Countreys, and séene verie many Mo­nasteries, [Page] and Churches, at last went to Constantinople: for this Williams brother was a Bishop there. This Bishop, when when he sawe his brother William preparing to returne home againe, tolde him of a certaine holy virgin, which had some of the Uirgin Maries Milke: and that he were a verie happie man, if either for loue or money, or by any skill, he could ob­taine a portion of it: for all the other Reliques which hitherto he had gotten were nothing in comparison of this holy milke. There Wil. could not be quiet till he had begd half that milke. Hauing that treasure he thought himself richer than Croesus And as wise as Wiltams c [...]e, that wēt nine mile to sucke a Bull.

Men.

And why not, and truly beyond all hope.

Ogyg.

Well he goeth directly home with his milke, but by the way he fell sicke.

Men.

Sée how nothing in humane affaires is happy long, nor in any place.

Ogyg.

When he saw in what daunger h [...] was, he secretly sent for a Frenchman, a most faithfull companion with him in his pilgrimage; and verie deuoutly requiring secrecie, com­mits the holy milke vnto him, with this condition, that if hée come safe home, hée shall set that Treasure vppon the Altar of the blessed Uirgine which is worshipped at Paris, in the great Church, that hath the Riuer Senion running on both sides of it: which Riuer séemeth also for honour of the Uirgin Marie, of his owne accorde to turne out of his right course. To be briefe, William is buried, his friend plyethA religious [...]iuer. homeward, and he also sickneth by the way. And despairing of himselfe, he commits this milke to an English man, and binds him with many obtestations to performe that he should haue done. The French-man dieth, the English-man taketh the milke, and placeth it vpon the Altar, the Canons of the church being present, which then were called Regulars, of them he obtained halfe the milk, that he caried into England, and by the motion of the spirite Either of God, or the diuell., he bestowed it vpon that blessed ladie of Walsing ham.

Men.

Certainly this tale hangeth well togither.

Ogy.

Yea, and to take away all doubt, the names of the Bi­shops were subscribed, by consent of the maior part, which be­stowed [Page] so much of that milke as they could giue out of their owne allowance, onely to re [...]resh poore Pilgrimes that came vnto them not emptie handed.

Men.

How much was that?

Ogy.

As much as would refresh them fortie dayes.

Men.

When they haue once giuen away all their allow­ance, haue they any more to giue?

Ogy.

No, they cannot giue al away, for it doth continually run, and is continually full: not as Danaus his fatall tubbe: [...]or though that be stil filled, yet is it still emptie: but here if you al­wayes draw, yet there is neuer the lesse in the tub That stands with good rea son so long as chalke pits, & whites of eggs last, or cowes, &c..

Men.

If they should giue fortie dayes milke to a hundred thousand men, shall euery one haue so much?

Ogy.

Yea, so much.

Men.

What if they that receiue fortie dayes milke before dinner, should come againe for so much more before supper, is it there for them?

Ogy.

Yea, if they come ten times in an houre.

Men.

I would I had such a cow, or else that my casket were of that humour, surely I wo [...]ld not wish to haue aboue thrée groates in it, if they would alwaies run in that maner.

Ogy.

Nay, rather wish that it might alwayes run golde, you shal assoone haue the one as th'other: but now to my table againe. This was further added, that our Ladies milke which is shewed in many other places, is venerable inough: but this is more venerable then all other, because the other is wrung out of stones, bnt this [...]owed from the very breasts of the virgin her selfe.

Men.

How did that appeare?

O.

Oh, the virgin said so that gaue the milke.

Men.

And peraduenture St. Bernard told her so.

O.

So I thinke.

Men.

He whose lucke it was when he was aged to sucke milke out of the same breasts that the childe Iesus sucked of, and therfore I maruaile why he is said to flow with hony ra­ther than with milke: but how is that the virgins milke, that came not from the virgins breasts?

That also came out of her breasts, but by chaunce, as she was milked, it fell vpon a stone, whereupon she sate, and afterward by the will of God, it was multiplied, as you heard before.

Men.

Wel, goe on with your tale.

Og.

After al this, while we were making ready to depart, and in the meane time looking héere and there, to sée if there were any other thing worth the séeing, we met againe with Mystagogues or Relique-maisters, who looked askew at vs, they poynt at vs with the finger, they come running towards vs: then they go away, then they come running againe, they nodde at vs, and they séemed as if they were about to call vs, if they had béene hardy enough.

Men.

Were you not then afraide?

Og.

No surely, but I turned my face towardes them, smi­ling, and beholding them, as if I would haue some of them to call me. At last one came and asked me my name, I told him Edo then he asked me, if I were not he that about some twoo yéeres before had set vp an Hebrew table concerning vowes. I saide, yee.

Mene.

Doe you write Hebrew?

Og.

No, but whatsoeuer they vnderstand not, they call it Hebrew. By and by came the prôtos hust [...]ros of their colledge, as I take it.

Mene.

What name of dignitie is this? haue they not an [...]. Abbot?

Og.

No, because they haue no skill in Hebrew.

Men.

Nor bishop?

Og.

No, they haue no bishop, because the blessed Uirgin is not rich enough to buy him a Crosier and a Miter.

Mene.

They haue a President at least, haue they not?

Og.

No neither, for that is a name of dignitie, and not of sanctimony: and therefore the colledge of Canons doe reiect the name of Abbot, but the name of President they like well.

Mene.

But a Protos hysteros I neuer heard of before.

Og.

Truely you are very ignorant in your grammer.

Men.

I haue read of Hysteróproton amongst the tropes and [Page] figures of Rhetorike, which signifieth a naming of that first which should be last.

Og.

You haue hit it, he which is next to the Prior, or first, is the latter prior.

Mene.

The Sub-prior you meane.

Og.

The very same: he saluted me very courteously, and tolde me how many did sweat about the reading of those ver­ses, how many spectacles were wiped, and all in vaine, when any olde doctor of Diuinitie, or lawe came thither, he was brought to those verses: one saide they were Ara [...]icke letters, another saide they were counterfeit. At last, there was one found that could reade the title, for that was written in latin, and in great roman letters t the rest were greeke verses writ­ten in capitall greeke letters, which at a blush looke like great roman letters, I being requested, shewd the meaning of them in latine, worde for worde, they would haue giuen mée some small reward for my paines, but I constantly refused it, affir­ming that there was nothing so hard, but I wo [...]ld doe it for the blessed virgins sake most willingly: yea if she would com­mand me to carry letters for her to Ierusalem.

Men.

What néede you be her scribe? when she hath so ma­ny Angells attending her, both to write for her, and to carry letters for her.

O.

Well, the Sub prior pluckt out of a purse, a fragment of wood, cut off from a blocke whereupon the virgin mother was séene to fit, the maruellous smell it had, did verily argue it to be a very sacred thing, I tooke it of him as a most excel­lent gift, and bowing my body bare headed, after I had with great reuerence kissed it, thrée or foure times, I put it into the purse againe.

Me.

May I not sée it?

O.

Yes, you may sée it, but if yo [...] be not fasting, or if you meane to lie with your wife at night, I would not wish you to sée it.

Me.

Why? shew it man, there is no daunger.

O.

Then behol [...]e it.

Me.

O happy man

Sir, I would you should knowe it, that I will not giue this little fragment for all the golde in Tagus riuer. I meaneSecreta virgi­nis. to set it in gold, & then put it in cristall. When the Sub-prior sawe my behauior to be so religious in taking that little gift, aud iudging thereby that I was worthy to haue greater mat­ters s [...]ewed me: he asked me if I had séene the virgins secrets or no? That word mooued me not alittle: yet I durst not aske him what secrets he meant, for in so holy matters, a slippe of the tongue is very daungerous, I sayd I had not as yet séene them, but I was very desirous to sée them, with that I was led in, and I went, me thought, as if I had béene rauished in the spirit. There was lighted diuers waxe tapers, there was shewed first a little image, which was not very singular, ey­ther for quantitie, or stuffe, or workemanshippe, but of great virtue.

Me.

Hath a blocke any power to worke myracles? I haue seene Saint Christophers Image at Paris, equall with a great mountaine, for bignesse, but nothing famous for any myra­cle-working that euer I could heare.

O.

At the féete of the Uirgin lay a pretious stone, the name whereof neither Latines nor Gréekes could euer finde out. The Frenchmen call it a Toad, because it hath in it the forme of a toade so liuely, that no Arte can make the like: and that which is more to be wondred at, it is a very little stone, and the image of the toade doth not appeare in the outside of it, but is inclosed in the very heart of the stone.

Mene.

It may be that men doe imagine such a thing to be there, as in a broken flint we imagine an Eagle, and what doe not children imagine they sée in the cloudes? firy dragons, mountaines burning, and armed men fighting.

O.

Nay, I would you should know, that no quicke toade doth more euidently shew it selfe than there it is expressed.

Me.

Hitherto I haue endured all your fables: from hence­forth get some body else to pers [...]ade about your toade.

O.

No maruell Menedemus, tho [...]gh you be so affected, for no man could euer haue perswaded me to haue beléeued it, vnlesse I had séene it with these eyes: but in the meane time [Page] you séeme too much to neglect naturall things.

Me.

Wherefore? because I will not beleeue that asses can flie.

O.

Do you not sée how Nature playeth the Arti [...]cer in ex­pressing the colours and formes of all things? And truely, as in other things, so chiefly in pretious stones? And further, what admirable virtues she hath giuen to the same stones? al­togetherThe formes of diuers pre­tious stones. incredible, vnlesse Experience had giuen vs proofe thereof? Tell me, would you euer haue beléeued that the stéele would haue bin drawne of the loadstone vntouched, and to be driuen backe againe without touching, vn [...]es you had séene it.

Me.

Truely not I, though tenne Aristotles had sworne it vnto me.

O.

Doe not then altogether condemne it for a fable, if you heare of any thing, that as yet you haue not experience of. In the stone calld O eraunia we sée the proportion of a thunder bolt: in the Carbuncle we sée the likenesse of flaming fire: in the Chalazia there is both the shape and coldnesse of haile, yea though you cast it into the middest of the fire: in the Emerald we sée the déepe and cleare waues of the sea: the Carcinias hath the forme of a sea crabbe: the Echites hath the likenesse of a vi­per: the Scarites resembleth the fish Scarus: the Hieracites is like a hawke: the Geranites hath a cranes necke: the Aegophthal­mus sheweth a goats eie: the Lycophthalm [...] hath a wolfes eie painted in foure colours, bright yellow and sanguine, blacke and white in the middle: the blacke Cyamea hath a beame in the middest: the stone Dryites hath the picture of the trunke of a trée, and burneth like wood: the stone Cissites and Narcissites hath the likenesse of iuie: the stone Phlegontites sheweth fire within, but not without: in the stone Anthracitides you may discerne certaine sparkles of fire running to and fro: the Cro­cias looketh like saffron: the Rhodites stone resembleth a rose: the stone Chalcites is like brasse: the stone Aetides sheweth the shape of an Egle: the stone Taos hath the picture of a peacocke: the Chelidonian the figure of an aspe: the Myrmicites the image of an Ant créeping: the stone Cantharias expresseth a scarabée whole: and the stone Scorpijtes a scorpion. But what doe I [Page] reckon vp these which be innumerable, whenas there is no part of nature, either in the elements, or in liuing creatures, or in plants, but nature hath as it were lasciuiously expressed in pretious stones? And do you maruell that in this stone she hath pictured a t [...]ade?

Men.

I maruel that nature can be at so much leisure as to recreate herselfe with the counterfeiting of all things.

Og.

It is but to exercise the curiositie of mans wit, and to kéepe vs from idlenesse. And yet as if there were nothing wherewith to mittigate the tediousnesse of time, we doate vp­on fooles and ieasters, and dice and iuglers mockeries.

Mene.

Tis most true that you say.

O.

Some are of opinion, that if this kinde of stone be put into vineger, it wil swimme, and you shal sée all the members of the toad to mooue.

Men.

Thats strange, but why doe they lay a toad-stone before the blessed Uirgin?

O.

Because she hath ouercome, troaden vnder foote, and quite extinguished all filthinesse, malitiousuesse, pride, coue­tousnesse, and whatsoeuer else springeth from eternal desires, and corrupt affections.*Thats a blas­phemous lie tell it no fur­ther, for all this hath Christ done, and yet but in part in this life, but most absolutely in [...]he life to come.

Men.

Woe be to vs that carry such a toade in our breast: but goe to, goe on with your storie.

O.

After that he shewed me diuers Images of golde and siluer, one he saide was all golde, an other all siluer: he also tolde me the weight, the value, and the founder o [...] euery one: I stil séemed to be very glad that the virgin was so rich. Then quoth the Relique-maister, because I sée you are a godly be­holder, I will shew you all, euen the most secret things that belong to the virgin, and with that pulled out of the Aultar an attire full of admirable things, which if I should particu­larly recite, this day would not suffice: I was abundantly fil­led with [...]ights, and this inestimable gift I brought with me, a token from the virgin herselfe.

Menede.

Haue you made no triall what virtue your wood hath?

O.

Yes, in a certaine I [...]ne some thrée days since there was [Page] a man distracted of his wittes, and should haue béene bound: this wood was laid close vnder his pillow, he slept a very long and a sound sleepe, and in the morning when he arose, he was well againe.

Men.

This was no frenzy, but some other humour, that comming by much hote moysture is commonly as strong drinke and wine, holpen by sléepe.

Ogy.

When you will ieast Menedemus, I pray choose an other matter: to ieast with the Saints is n [...]ither good nor safe. Yea the man himselfe told me, that in his s [...]éepe there ap­peared a woman vnto him in a straunge ma [...]er, and offered him a pot What pot? a drinking pot, or a cham­ber pot..

Men.

I beléeue it was some néesing powder.

Ogy.

That I know not. But this is for certaine, that the man was well againe.

Men.

You passed ouer St. Thomas of Canterburie. St. Thomas [...] Ca [...]terb.

Ogy.

Faith sir no. I made no pilgrimage with greater de­uotion.

Men.

I would willingly heare that too, but for too much troubling of you.

Ogy.

Nay, I wil pray you to heare it. Kent is a part of Eng­land that is next to France and Flanders. The chiefe Citie is Canterbury, wherin be two Monasteries one hard by another, in both there be of the order of St. Benedict. That which is in­titled S. Austins, is the more ancient: that which is now called S. Thomas, was sometime the Archbishops seat, where with a few choise Monks he liued, as now also the Prebends haue houses ioyning to the Church, but distinct from other Can [...]ns houses: for sometimes there were both Bishops and Canons. But that Church that was dedicated to S. Thomas, riseth with such maiestie towards heauen, that it strikes religion into thē that behold it afarre off: and with his beautie he e [...]lipseth the light of his neighbor, and obscureth that place that in ancient time was most religious. It hath 2. great towers, saluting as it were strangers afarre off, and with a wonderfull r [...]aring o [...] brazen bels, awaking the c [...]untry adioyning [...]oth far & neare. In the Church por [...]h towar [...]es the [...] [...] thrée armed [Page] men grauen in stone, which with their wicked handes kille [...] that holy man Or traitor.▪ and there are set ouer them their names, Tuscus, Fuscus, and Berus.

Men.

Why is so much honor giuen to wicked men?

Ogy.

Forsooth no other honor is giuen to these men, then is giuen to Iudas, Pilat, Caiphas, and a company of wicked souldi­diers, whom we haue so curiously grauen in golden Altars. Their sirnames are added, that no man may euer after de­light to be called by those names. Their eies are put out, that no Courtier hereafter may be so bold as to lay his hands vp­on Bishops, or church-liuings For when these 3. champions had committed their wickednes, they were straightway stric­ken mad, neither could they euer recouer their right mind a­gaine, vnt [...]l they had craued the fauor of that most holy man. When we were entred the Church, we saw a huge space, full of maiestie, and there euery one walketh.

Men.

Was there nothing to be séene?

Ogy.

Nothing but a huge masse of building, and certaine bookes [...] to certaine pillars, in which was the Gospel of Nichodemus and a sepulchre, I know not whose.

Men.

What else.

Ogy.

The entrance is so fenced with iron grates, that a man may sée that space which is betwéene the outward church, and that which is called the quier, or place of singing men: to that place men ascend by many steppes, vnder which there was a vault, that hath a doore to the North. There was shewed vs a woodden Altar, dedicated to the holy virgin, meane, and not worth the séeing: but for [...]he antiquitie of it, which seemed to reprooue the excesse of these times. There the holy man (as it is said) tooke his leaue of the holy virgin, when death did [...]p­proach him. Upon the Altar is kept the poynt of that sword wherewith the crowne of that holie mans head was cut off, and his braine panne pierced, that he might be the sooner dis­patchedHoly rust, [...]ir­reuerence. of his life. The h [...]ly rust of this sword for the loue of the Martir we kissed most deuoutly Such lips, such lettice.. From thence we went into a secret vault vnder the ground, and that was not with­out his Mystagogues. There was exhibited vnto vs first of [Page] all a scull of [...] Martyr cleft with a sword, al was clad in [...]luer, sauing the top of it, & that was left bare for men to kiss [...]. There was also sh [...]wed a plate of lead, wherein was ingrauen this title, Thomas of Acres. There h [...]ng also in the dark the shirts of haire, the girdles & bréeches whereby this valiant chāpion did bring his flesh into subiection, a shame to our dainti [...]esse and tendernesse.

Me.

And peraduenture also a shame to the monks thēselues.

Ogy.

Of that matter I cā say nothing, neither is it any thing to my matter. But from thence we went into the quier: at the north side are their secrets kept, it is marueilous to be spoken what a number of bones be there to be séene, sculs, chins, téeth, hands, fingers, whole armes, all which we kissed, neither had there bin any end of [...]hewing, if he that went with me (being somewhat impatient) had not interrupted the businesse.

Men.

What was he?

Ogy.

An English man, his name is Gratian, a yong man, a man learned and godly, but not so well affected to this part of religion as I could wish.

Men.

Some of Wicklifes schollers, I beléeue.

Ogy.

I thinke not so, although he hath read his bookes, I know not where he was borne.

Men.

Did he offend the Mystagogue?

Ogy.

There was brought forth an arme of a man hauing yet raw flesh and blood vpon it, which he abhorred to kisse, and with his very looke shewed himselfe much mooued at the mat­ter, and with that the Relique master hid his secrets againe: then we went to looke vpon the table and ornaments of the altar, a [...] very costly, you would haue said, that Mydas and Croe­ [...]us had béene but beggers, if you had séene the abundance of gold and siluer that was there.

Men.

You did not kisse them, did you?

Og.

No, but here I was moued with an other kind of douotiō

Men.

What was that?

Ogy.

I fetcht a great sigh for griefe that there were no suc [...] reliques at home at my house. After that we went into the ve­ [...]rie. Good God, what pompe of Uestures w [...]re there, all of [Page] [...]lke, what aboundance of golden candlestickes? there we saw Saint Thoma [...] his Miter.

Men.

What, neuer a crosse?

Og.

I sawe none, but wee sawe a cloake of silke, but of a grosse thréed, no gold nor pretious stones vpon it. There was also a napkin, all sweaty and bloudy: these monuments of an­cient frugalitie we willingly kissed.

M [...]n.

These things are not shewed to euery body.

Og.

Oh no, good sir.

Men.

How came you into so great credit, that you saw all?

Og.

I had alittle acquaintaunce with that reuerend father William Warham archebishoppe of Canterbury, he wrote two or thrée wordes in my behalfe.

Men.

I haue heard of many, that he is a man of great hu­manitie.

Ogy.

You would rather say he were humanitie it selfe, if you knew him: from these things we were carried vppe aloft as i [...] were into a new church: there in a little chappel we saw the face of that good man Saint Thomas, set all in golde, and a border of pretious stones. Héere a certaine misc [...]unce vn­looked for had almost intercepted all my felicitie.

Men.

What ill lucke was that?

Og.

Héere my fellow Gratian got but little fauour, for af­terG [...]atian had almost marrd all. a little short prayer was said, he came to the Mystagogue in this maner: Doe you heare good father (quoth he) is it true that men say, that Saint Thomas was so good a man vnto the poore? It is tr [...] said the Mystagogue, and beganne to tell ma­ny things of his bounty towards poore men. Then saide Gra­tian, I do not think that that affection is chāged in him, except it be for the better. Thats true, said the Mysta [...]ogue. Thē said Gratian againe: therefore séeing that holy man was so liberall to the poore, when yet himselfe was but poore, and had néede of reliefe himselfe for bodily necessities. Doe you not thinke that he would now be contented, being so rich, and wanting nothing, if a poore woman that hath many hunger▪ starued children at home, or daughters, that for want of a good porti­on cannot be so wel bestowd as they might, or whose husband [Page] lies sicke and succorles, should, after leaue asked, be so bold as to take some litle portion of this great aboundance, to relieue her poore family withal, and taking it as it were [...]m one that were willing to let her haue it, either as giuen, or lent, till she could pay it againe? To this question when the Kéeper of the golden head made no answer, Gratian (as he is somewhat ear­nest) said, I thinke, yea and do verily beléeue, that such a holy manas he was, would be glad now whē he is dead, to reléeue the penurie of poore men with his goodes. With that the My­stagogue frowned vpon vs, and put out his lips at vs, and loo­ked vpon vs with Gorgonicall eies, and I thinke verily that he would haue spit at vs, and with al reprochful spéeches haue thrust vs out of doores, but that he knew we were commen­ded by the archbishop. Howsoeuer it fell out, with faire spée­ches we pacified the mans wrath, and told him Gratian spake not as he thought, but after his iesting maner, and withal we layd him downe some groats.

Men.

Surely I greatly commend your pietie: but I often times muse to my selfe, with what colour they can be excused, as frée from all fault, which bestow such abundance of wealth in building, adorning, and enriching of temples, as if there were neuer any end to be made. I graunt there is a certaine dignitie due to holy vestures, to church implements, and so­lemne seruice, or holy solemnities: I alow that the buildings themselues should haue their state and maiestie, but to what end serue so many baptisteries, or fonts, so many candles, and candlestickes, so many golden Images, and such cost as is be­stowed vpon organs: and not content with these, we must haue great reuenues to maintaine a musical kind of whining, neighing, and chanting, when in the mean time our brethren and sisters, that are the liuely temples of Christ, are ready to perish with hunger and thirst.

Og.

In these things there is no good mind but would wish a meane, but because this f [...]lt springs of a certaine exc [...]iue deu [...]tion, it deserues the m [...] fauor▪ [...]specially so often as wée call to mind the contrary [...] of those men that spoyle the churches of all their mai [...] ▪ These things were most of [Page] them giuen by princes and great persons, that would haue bin worse spent in dice or war: and to alienate any thing that wasOf church ornamentes. giuen to the church, is [...]acrilege: and againe, it doth not onelie make them withdraw their hands that would giue, but also stir them to rapine. Therefore they are not lords but kéepers of these things. Last of all, I had rather sée a temple too muchNote that. abounding with holy ornaments than to sée them as some be, naked, filthy, and more like stables than temples.

Me.

We reade of bishops that were commēded for selling away their holy vessells, & reléeuing the poore with the money.

Og.

They are commended indeed, and only commended, but to imitate them I thinke it neither good nor lawfull.

Me.

Go on with the rest of your narration, for I exspect an end of your tale.

Og.

That you shall haue very briefly: in the meane time came foorth the chiefe Relique-maister.

Men.

Who is that, the Abbot of the place?

Og.

He hath a Miter, and hath an Abbots reuenues, hée wants only the title, and they call him the Prior, because the Archbishop is in the Abbots place: for in olde time, whosoeuer was Archbishop of that Prouince, was also a Monke.

Men.

Truely I cared not if they called me a Camell, if I had an Abbots reuenues.

Og.

Surely to me he séemed both a godly man, and wise, and well read in Scotus diuinitie, he opened a boxe, or a case, wherein the rest of that holy martires body lay.

Men.

Did you sée his bones▪

Ogy.

No that we might not, neither could wée without a ladder: but he shewed vs a golden coffin, that was couered with a woodden coffin, which being pulled off with ropes, we sawe inestimable treasures.

Men.

What were they?

Og.

The worst thing there, was gold, it shined with rare and great pretious stones they did all shine and glister, some of them were bigger than a goose egge. Round about it stoode certaine Monkes with great reuerence. The former of them with a white rod pointed to euery stone, and told vs the value [Page] and the giuer of it: the chiefest of them were giuen by princes.

Me.

He that sheweth all this, had néed of a good memory.

Ogy.

You say true, yet exercise doth helpe him much, for he dath it often: from thence he brought vs backe againe to a se­cret va [...]lt vnder the ground: there the Uirgin mother hath a little house, but very darke, and strong, with double grates of yron.

Men.

What is she afraid of?

Ogy.

Nothing but théeues: for I neuer saw a place more loaden with riches in all my life.

M [...]n.

You speake of blinde riches.

Ogy.

When candles were brought, wee saw more then a princely sight: and this is not shewed but to great persons, an [...] speciall friends. Last of all, we were had into the Uestry a­gaine. There was set vpon a table, a blacke leather casket, by and by it was opened, then we all worshipped vowing our knées.

Men.

What was in it?

Ogy.

Certaine fragments of old lin [...]en, rent and torne, rag­ged, snotty, handkerchers, and most of them full of sneuil and dirt, and neuer washed since they were occupied: with these the good S. Thomas wiped off the sweate from his face and hisO daintie re­likes, not for euery one to see. necke, and blew his nose, and whatsoeuer other excrements mans body yéeldeth, he dried vp with them. But there my fel­low Gratian beganne againe to be out of fauour: for he being an Englishman, and one of the Prio [...]s acquaintance, and a man of good authority, the good [...]rior offered him one of those lin [...]en ragges, thinking that he would haue estéemed of it as a great gift. But Gratian not without great loathing, tooke it vp very gingerly betwéene his fingers and his thumbe, and contemptuously threw it from him againe, and [...]macked a [...] it with his li [...]s, after the manner of riders that smacke to their horses: for this was his mann [...]r [...], if any thing offended him, which he iudged worthy to be contemned. I was both afraid and asha [...]d. But the Prior, (as he was very wise) dissem­bled this fact, & after he had offred vs a cup of wine, he did very curteously dismiss [...] vs, & then [...] were to take ship for London. M. what were you to do whē you came near the lāding place?

Something, but I would by no means land there, for it was more infamous for cosonages, and robberies, then anyOf a French boy. rockes be for indangering of sailers. Ile tel you what I saw at my last passage th [...]re. There were a company of vs carried from the shoare to a great ship at Calis. Amongst these there was a poore ragged youth, of him they must néeds haue halfe a grote, for so much they extorte of euery one, if they go neuer so little a way with a man. He pleades pouerty, they iestingly d [...]mand it stil, at last they puld off his shoos, & betwixt the soles they found x. or xii. grotes, which they tooke away, making an open laughing game of the matter, scoffing at the vnhappy Frenchman.

Men.

What did the youth?

Og.

What could he doe? he wept.

Men.

Did they this by authoritie?

Og.

By the same authority wherby they rob the packes of their passengers, and take mens purses, when time serues thē.

Men.

It is maruell that they durst do such a wicked déed in the presence of so many.

Ogyg.

They are so accustomed to it, that they thinke they may do it lawfully. In the great ship there were many lookers on, in the boate were some English [...]actors, that murmured at the matter, but all in vaine: they, as in a meriment boasted that they had taken a wicked Frenchman.

Me.

Such Mariners as play the théeues in ieast, and doeLewd marri­ners. make but a sport of it, would be hanged in good earnest.

Og.

And with such doe both shoares abound, but héere you may coniecture what the maisters wil do, when their seruants dare play such partes: therefore héereafter I will rather go far about than passe such a short cut. And moreouer, as the waie to hell is most easie to finde, but the way from thence is most hard, so at this hauen the entrance is not very easie, but the going out payeth for all. There were certaine sailers of Ant­werp that tarried long at London, with them I determined to goe to sea.

Men.

Hath that region such holy Seamen?A good note for our En­ [...]lishmen.

Ogyg.

I confesse, that as an Ape is alwayes an Ape, so a Mar [...]iner is alwayes a Marriner, but if they be compared [Page] with those that haue learned to liue by theft, they are Angells.

Mene.

I will remember this, if at any time I be disposed to sée that Iland: but returne into the way, from whence I drew you.

Ogy.

As we were going towards London, not farre beyondOf certa [...]ne begga [...]s vpon the high way. Canturbury, we came to a very hollow way, and narrow, and withall, very stéepe, or downe hill, with such a ragged banke on both sides, that you cannot auoide it, and there is no reme­dy but you must néedes ride that way. On the left hand of that way, was a begging place for certaine old men that sate there: their manner is, so soone as they sée any horse-man ap­proaching, one of them commeth running out, and besprin­keleth the horse man with holy water, then he offereth him an old shooe to kisse, tied to a curtaine ring, in which ring is a glasse like a counte [...]fet pretious stone: they that kisse it must giue him some mony.

Men.

I rather alow old men to beg on such a way, than a company of strong théeues.

Ogy.

Gratian, he rode by mee on the right hand, and was next vnto the beggars, he was besprinkeled with holy waters well, he tooke it after a sort: but when the old shooe was reached him to kisse, he demanded the reason of it; the olde man said, it was Saint Thomas, his shooe: with that the man waxed an­gry, and turning vnto me said; What doe these beasts meane, that we must kisse the shooes of euery good man? why doe they not also reach vs their spittle, and other excrements of their body to kisse? I pittied the old man, and gaue him some mony to comfort him withall.

Men.

In my opinion Gratian had cause to be angry. If ho­sen and shooes were kept as an argument of a sparing life, I should not greatly mis-like it: but it is a very imp [...]dent part to offer such stuffe to men to be kissed.

Ogy.

To deale plainely, I am also of your minde.

Men.

I meruaile that you neuer visited Saint Patrikes Den, of which so many monstrous things are reported, and to me altogether incredible.

Ogy.

Why man? I haue sailed ouer the riuer of hel, I haue [Page] [...] euen into the very iawes of hell: I haue séene what­ [...] done in hell.

Men.

You shall doe mee a pleasure if you would tell mee those things.

O [...]y.

Let this suffice for this time. Now I meane to goe home to dinner, for I haue not dined yet.

Men.

Why doe you fast so long? sor religion sake?

Ogy.

No, but of very enuy.

Men.

What, doe you enuy your belly?

Ogy.

No, but the pilling Inholders and Uintners, whichVintners and Inholders. when they wil not let a man haue that is fitte for him, yet they are not afraid to take out of all reason. Of such I am wont to be reuenged in this manner, if there b [...] any hope of a good supper, either at my frends house, or with my miserable Host, then I take no dinner, or a very small one. But if I dine well, then at supper time I am not well in my stomacke.

Men.

Are you not ashamed to séeme so sparing and mise­ra [...]le?

Ogy.

Menedemus, they that spend their shame in such mat­ters, [...]eléeue me, they doe ill bestow their cost. I haue learned to [...]éepe my shame for other vses.

Men.

Now I long sor the rest of your tale, and therefore I will be a guest with you at dinner, and then you may the more [...] make an end of it.

O [...]y

Truely I giue [...]ou great thanks that you offer your s [...]lfe vnbidded, when many doe earn [...]stly refuse to come, be­ing int. ca [...]ed: b [...]t I will giue you double thanks, if you will din [...] to day at home, for now all the time that I shal haue, wil be [...] enough ms [...]luting of my family. [...]ut I haue a [...] [...] my head, that wil be better for both of vs: to mor­row I and my wife wil come and dine [...]f your house, and then ti [...]l [...] n [...]r be r [...]dy, I will feede you with tales, [...] till your sel [...]e sh [...]ll s [...]y, you haue enough, and if you thinke good, wée wil not leaue you t [...]l supper be done. What, stan [...] you scrat­chi [...]g your hea [...]? [...]o you pr [...]uide, for in good sadnesse we mean to come.

Men.

I had rather your tales were v [...]bought, [...]ut goe to, [Page] you shall haue a short dinner, not very sauory, vnlesse you season it with good tales.

Ogy.

But doe you heare, doe you not thinke long to goe these pilgrimages?

Men.

I cannot tell what I shal doe, when you haue fini­shed your discourses. But as I am now affected, I haue e­nough to doe to walke the Roman stations.

O.

You walke the Roman stations that neuer saw Rome?

Mene.

I wil tell you how, thus I walke my stations at home: I goe into my closet, and I looke to my daughters that they lose not their virginity: then I goe into my shop, and sée what my seruants doe: and then into my kitchin, to sée what is amisse there: and then into some other place, and from one place to another, to obserue what my children doe, and how my wife is imployed, and neuer leaue till I sée that euery one doth his duty: these b [...] my Roman stations.

Ogy.

And all these things would S. Iames doe for you, if you were abroad.

Men.

To [...]ooke vnto them my selfe, I haue a commande­mentA good co [...] ­clusion. in the word of God: but to commit them ouer to Saints I haue no warrant at all.

¶ A ve [...]y pleasant and fruitfull Dia­logue, she [...]ing what comfort a man may finde by Popery in the houre of death.

The speakers names:
  • Marcolph [...]s,
  • Phaedru [...].
Marcolphus

WHence come you Phaedrus, out of Trophinius his den?

Phae.

Why doe you aske that question?

[Page]Mar.

Because you looke more sad, more vnhansome, more filthy, and more sterne than you had wont to doe: you are no­thing lesse than that you are called.

Phae.

If they that be long in a Smiths shop, shal be blacke and grimed with smoke, and coale dust, no meruaile though I which haue béene so many daies together with two sicke persons, yea, and at their death and buriall, looke more sadly than I was wont, and especially they being both my dear [...] friends.

Mar.

Who are those that you say are buried?

Phae.

You knew George Gunner, did you not?

Mar.

By name onely, not by face.

Phae.

The other I am sure you knew not, his name was Cornelius Montius, he and I haue béene of familiar acquain­tance these many yeares.

M [...]r.

It was neuer my hap yet to be present at any mans death.

Phae.

I haue, oftner than I would.

Mar.

But is death so terrible a thing as it is commonly re­ported?

[...]haedr.

The way to death is more hard than death it selfe. But if a man can frée his minde from that imagination of feare of death, he shall abate a great part of that euil. To bée short, whatsoeuer is bitter, either in sickenesse, or in death, is made more tollerable, if a man doe wholy commit himselfe ouer to the good will of God. For as touching the féeling of death, when the soule is pulled from the body, I thinke it to be either none at all, or very stupide and blockish, because na­ture before it be come to that passe, doth dead, and astonish, or mortifie, and as it were, cast asléep [...] all the sensible parts.

Mar.

We are borne without any féeling of our selues.

Phae.

But not without sense or féeling of the mother.

Mar.

And why doe we not die in the same manner as wée are borne? why would God haue death to be so bitter?Why God [...]ould haue death to be [...]tter.

Phae.

The Lord would haue our birth to be grée [...]ous and dangerous to our mother, to that end she might loue more dearely that which she hath borne. But death he would haue [Page] fearefull and bitter to all, lest men should wil [...]ully cast away themselues: for when we sée daily so many lay violent hands vpon themselues, what thinke you would be done, if in death there were nothing to be feared? So soone as a seruant should receiue correction, or a scholler should be beaten, so often as a wife were angry with her husband, or that any thing did mis­carry, or that any accident should happen which were gr [...]e­uous to the minde, straitwaies would men runne to the rope, or to the sword, or to the riuer, or to poisonings, or to cast themselues downe head-long from some high place, or to one mischéefe or another. But now the bitternesse of death doth make our life the more pretious and deare vnto vs, especi­ally séeing Phisitians cannot cure men when life is once gone. Although, as there is not the like chaunce vnto all in their birth, so it happeneth not alike to all in their death, some die quickely, and are soone out of paine, others doe languish long of a lingering di [...]ease: they that are sicke of a Lethargie, doe die without sense or féeling, as if they were cast into a sléepe, like those that are stung of a Serpent. This I haue obser­ued, that there is no kinde of death so bitter, but it may bee endured, if a man bee resolued to depart with a bolde cou­rage.

Mar.

Which of your friends deaths was the more chri­stian like?

Phae.

Me thought Georges was the more magnificent.

Mar.

What, is there ambition in death?

Phae.

I neuer saw two in all my life die s [...] vnlike in their death: if you be at leasure I wil describe both their departures vnto you, and you shall iudge whether of their ends is the more to be desired of a christian man.

Mar.

I shal most willingly harken vnto you.

Ph.

Then first you shall heare of Georges departure. WhenOf Georges death. there appeared in him certaine signes of death, all the rowt of Phisitians, which had long had him in cure, (dissembling his end) beganne to require their mony.

Mar.

How many Phisitians were there?Of his Phi­sitian [...].

Ph [...].

Sometime ten, s [...]etime twelue, and when there [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] were fewest, there were sixe.

Mar.

Enough to kill a strong man.

Phae.

When they had gotten their mony, they secretly t [...]ld his neighbours that were about him, that death was at hand, and wished them to prouide for his soules health, for as for his bodily health, there was no hope. Now the sicke man is gently admonished by his friends, to commit the cure of his body to God, and now to thinke vpon nothing, but of such things as might make to a happy departure out of this world. Wh [...]n George heard this newes, he looketh vpon his Phisiti­ans with wonderful indignation, taking it very gréeuously, that they had giuen him ouer. Their answer was, that they were Phisitians, and not gods, and that they had done for him whatsoeuer by Art they could doe: but against fatall ne­cessity there was no remedy. This done, they went aside into the next chamber.

Marcolphus

What, did they tarry after they had their mony?

Phae.

They could not agrée vpon the kind of his disease: one said it was a dropsie, another said it was a timpany▪ ano [...]her said it was an apostumation in his guts, one said one thing, another said another: and all that whole time that they han­dled the sicke man most bitterly, they contended stil about the kinde of his disease.

Marcol.

Oh how happy was that patient in the meane time!

Phae.

Well, to end that strife, they prayed his wife to let them make an Anotomy of the dead body, telling her that it would be very honourable, and a thing vsuall amongst great persons: and moreouer, that it would be much for the good of others, and that it would increase the heape of his merites. And last of all, they promise to purchase thirty masses at their owne cost and charge, to be sung for his soule, which would much profite him, being dead. This the sicke man did hardly yeeld vnto: yet at the last, by the intreaty of his wife and his neighbours that were about him, it was granted. This be­ing obtained, all the Phisitians tooke their leaue: for they hold [Page] it vnlaw [...]ull for them that are vsed to succour life, to bee pre­sent at a mans death, or at his funeralls.

By and by atter was Bernardine sent for to heare his con­fession, a man hee is (as you know) reuerendly addicted to the order of the Franciscans. But before he hadde fini­shedFoure orders of Mendicants his confession, there were in the house a company of foure orders, commonly called Mendicants, or begging Fri­ars.

Mar.

What, so many vultures to one carkasse?

Phae.

And then was called the Parish Priest to annoile him, and to giue him the holy Sacrament.

Mar.

Uery religiously indéede.

Phae.

But there had like to haue béene a very bloody battell betwéene the Monks and the parish Priest.

Mar.

What, by the bed of the sicke man?

Phae.

Yes verily, and Christ looking on too.

Marcolphus

What was the cause of such a suddaine tu­mult?

Phae.

The parish Priest, when he knew that the sicke man had confessed himselfe to a Franciscan, denied him both ex­treame vnction, and the Sacrament, yea and his buriall too, vnlesse hee also might heare with his owne eares, the sicke mans confession, alledging that he was the Minister of that Parish, and that he must giue an account to God for his sheep, which he could not doe, vnlesse he knew the secrets of his con­science.

Mar.

Did he not séeme to speake reasonably?

Phae.

Surely not to them, for they did all with a lowde voice stan [...] against it, especially Bernar [...]ine, and Vincentius the Dominican Friar.

Mar.

What reasons brought they?

Phae▪

They did incessantly belabor the parish Priest with great reproaches, and withall called him Asse, and saide, that h [...] was worthy to be a swine-heard. I (quoth Vincen­ [...]) am a Batchelor of [...]iuinity, a [...]d am shortly to be licen­ciated and intit [...]d Doctor: thou doost scarce reade [...]he Gospel, so far art thou f [...]om being able to discusse cases of conscience: [Page] but if you wil néeds busie your selfe, go your way and sée what your wife doth, and your bastards at home, and many other things which I am ashamed to r [...]hearse.

Mar.

What said he to all this? was he mute?

Ph.

Mute? nay, you would haue saide the grashopper had broken his wing. I wil make (quoth he) farre better batchel­lors of diuinitie than thou art, of beane stalkes. The Authors and p [...]incipall men of your orders were Dominicke and Fran­cis: where did they learne Aristotles philosophie, or the Argu­ments of Thomas Aquinas, or the Speculations of Scotus? Or where were they created batchellors of Diuinitie? you haue crept into the world, too ready to beléeue your lies, and when you first sprang vp, you were but a few, and meane enough God wot. You did once nestle in fieldes and villages, with­in a short space you found the way into euery wealthy cittie. In the fields was wont to be a place for your worke, but now you are no where but in rich mens houses. You b [...]ast of the ti­tle of Bishops, but your priuiledges are nothing worth, but when the Bishop, or Pastor, or Uicar are ydle, and do loyter, or wil giue place vnto you. But none of you all shall preach in my church, so long as I am Pastor, and in health. I am no batchellor of diuinitie, no more was Saint Martin, and yet he was a bishop, but looke what learning I want, I will not come to you for it. Doe you thinke that the world is now so simple and blockish, that wheresoeuer they sée one clad like S. Dominicke, or Saint Francis, they should presently [...]hinke their sanctimony to be there? Is it any matter to you what I do at home? What you doe in your dennes, and how you vse holie virgins, and nunnes, the worlde knoweth well enough. As for the houses of rich men that you haunt so much, how little the b [...]tter, or the honester they are for your comming thither, is sufficiently knowne to all men, euen to the poreblinde and barbers. The rest (Marcolphus) I dare not tell, surely those reuerend fathers he handled very vnreuerently: neyther had there béene any end, if George the sicke had not made a signe with his hand, that he had somewhat to say. With much adoo he obtained silence in that brawle. Then (quoth the sicke [Page] man) I pray be at peace among your selues, I will also con­fesse my selfe vnto you, my Pastor: and further, for the ring­ing of the Belles, for my funerall Dirges, for a Hearse, and for my buriall, you shall haue your due before you goe out of the house.

Mar.

And did the parish Pri [...]st refuse that offer?

Phae.

No, onely he murmured somewhat of the confession which he mentioned to the sicke man, what néede the same things be repeated againe (quoth he) to wearie both the sicke man and the Priest too? If he had confessed himselfe to me in time, peraduenture he would haue made a b [...]tter will then he hath done. Now looke you to it. At this equall dealing of the sicke man, the monkes were ill apayd, taking it very grie­uously, that so much of their prey went to the parish Pri [...]st: But I entreated and perswaded, that all contention might be buried. The parish Priest he annointed the sicke man, he gaue him the sacrament of the Lords bodie, and when he had his money, away he went.

Mar.

What, was there not a calm [...] after that storme?

Phae.

Nay, when this [...]torme was past, there presently fol­lowedAnothe [...] [...]torme. another tempest, farre more cruell then the former.

Mar.

I pray you how?

Phae.

You shall heare. There were come to the house foure orders of Mendicants, or begging Friers: by and by commeth a fift companie, of Crosse-bear [...]rs, against which theA good ieast. o [...]her foure rose vp in a great tumult, as against some mis-be­gotten bastard. They asked the other, where they did euer sée a Cart with fiue whéeles, or with what face they would haue more orders of Mendicants, than there w [...]re Euange­lists, then (quoth they) bring in all the beggars that lie vpon the high way.

Mar.

What said the Crosse bearers to this?

Phae.

They asked them againe, how the Churches Cart went, when there was nane of those orders of Mendica [...]s at all: and afterwa [...]des, how went it when there was but one order, and after that, thrée? As for the number [...]f Euang [...] ­lists, they haue no more affinitie, or correspon [...]encie with our [Page] orders, then with a Die, which sheweth euerie way foure corn [...]rs: who ordained the Augustines to be an order of beg­gars, or the Carmelites? When did Augustine, or Heli [...] goe a begging? and yet these are made (forsooth) to be the authors of your orders. These things with many mo, they did lustily thund [...]r out against them; but being alone, they were too weake for the other armie of foure parts, and therefore they went th [...]ir way, but threatning them very sore.

Mar.

Now then there was quietnes, was there not?

Phae.

Nay that heate against the fift order was turned in­to an horrible fray amongst themselues: for the Franci [...]canes, and the Dominicans did hold, that neither the Augustines, nor Carmelites were right Mendicants, but bastards, and counterfeites. This brawle did grow to such a heate, that I still feared they would go to bl [...]wes.

Mar.

Did the sicke man endure all this?

Phae.

These things were not done by his bed side, but without in the Court yeard adioyning to his Chamber, but yet their noyse was heard vp to the sicke man, for they did not whi [...]per it, but set their throates as lowde as they could, and sickmen you know are swift of hearing, and the least noyse that can be, doth disquiet them.

Mar.

What then was the issue of this warre at the last?

Phae.

The sicke man sent word by his wife, that they should be quiet, and he would end their strife. And he prayed, that for that time the Augustines, and Carmelites would depart, which if th [...]y would do, they should loose nothing by it, for hée promised that at the least they should haue as much vittailes sent them home, as they should haue if they tarried still. At the fun [...]ral he willed all their orders, the fift and all, to be present, and that in money their portion should be all alike, but at the common feast he would not haue them present, lest they sh [...]uld [...]all out, and disturbe the companie.

Mar.

You tell me of a notable housh [...]lder indeed, who e­uen when he lay a dying, knew how to pacifie so many Seas of brawl [...]s.

Phae.

Oh he had for many yeares béene a Captaine in the [Page] [...]arres, and there are dayly such tumults raised amongst the souldiers.

Mar.

He was therefore verie weal [...]hie.

Ph [...].

Uerie rich.

Mar.

But his riches were ill gotten, as for the mo [...]t part it happeneth by rapines, sacrileges, and extortions.

Phae.

Indeede that is commonly the maner of Captaines, neither dare I sweare that hée was altogither fr [...]e from such faults. Unlesse I bée much deceyued in the man, hé [...] got his liuing more by dexteritie of wit, then by viol [...]nce.

Mar.

How so?

Phae.

He was skilfull in Arithmeticke.

Mar.

And what if he were?

Ph [...].

What if he were? he woul [...] [...]aund of the prince, pay for thirtie thousand souldiers, when there were scant se­uen thousand. Againe, to many souldiers he would g [...]e noW [...]rrelike shifts. pay at [...]ll.

Mar.

Tr [...]ly you tell me of a goodly Arithmetitian.

Phae.

Moreouer, he ruled the warres by art, for his maner was to demaund a monthly pay, both of hi [...] enemies, as also of his friends: of his enemies, that they might sustaine no da­mage by his men: of his owne friends, that it might be la [...]ful for them to trade with the enemie.

Mar.

I know the common fashion of soldiers wel inough▪ but I pray you finish your narration.

Phae.

Then Bernardine and Vincent, with a few of their or­der, taried with the sicke bodie. To the rest there was sent some vittaile.

Mar.

They agréed well inough, which taried t [...] comfort the sicke man.

Phae.

Not very wel: for they gruml [...]d [...] wote not what a­bout the priueleges of their Charters, but lest there should b [...] any speach made of it, it was smoothere [...]. Here now was pr [...] ­uision made for his Will making▪ and witnesses being called, there were certaine demaunds made of such matters as they had agree [...] vpon amongst themselues.

M [...]r.

I long to heare of those matters.

[Page]Ph [...].

I will tel you briefly, for it is too long a [...]ory at large. His wife was yet liuing, and about two and forty yeares of ag [...], a woman truely very honest, and wise, and two sonnes he had also liuing, the one was twenty yéeres olde, and the o­ther [...], and as many daughters, but both very yong, vnder twelue. In his will it was so prouided, that his wife, because she could not be perswaded to become a Nunne, shee should weare a Beghiue cloake, that is, a middle kinde of ve­sture betwéene Nunnes and the Laitie.

Ma.

Th'old foxe is not so easly taken with snares: say on.

Phae.

His eldest sonne, because he would not be perswaded to become a Mo [...]ke, must (as soone as his fathers funeralles were past) go to Rome, and there, by a dispensation from the Pope, should be made priest before he were of lawful age, and for one whole yeere shuld euery day sing masse for his fathers soule, in the Uaticane church, and should take orders in the Laterane Church, and euery friday should créepe vppon his knées vnto the crosse.

Mar.

He did willingly vndergoe these things, did he not?

Phae.

I will not say crastily, as Asses were wont to vnder­goe their sackes. The yonger sonne must be dedicated to St. Francis, his elder daughter to Saint Clare, and his younger to Saint Katharine. This was all that could be obtained: for Georges minde was (to that end God might be the more mer­cifull vnto him) to haue had those fiue that he left behind, to be diuided amongst the fiu [...] orders of Mendicants, and the mat­ter was laboured very hard, but his wife and his eldest sonne would by no meanes be perswaded.

Mar.

In what manner did he bestowe his inheritaunce?

Phae.

All his liuing was so diuided, that all the funerall charges being deducted, twelue partes should go to his wife, whereof the one halfe should be for hir maintenance, the other to the place of hir abode, from whence if she should (vpon hir mind changing) depart, then al that part should go for euer to that parish: another part to hir son, who should haue some of it presently payd him, to beare his charges, going his iorny, and remayning at Rome, and he should haue sufficient besides to [Page] pay for his orders and dispensations: But if he shoulde alter his minde, and refuse holy orders, then should his parte be di­uided betwéene the Franciscans and the Dominicans, which I feare he will loose, the youth séemed so much to abhorre be­ing a Priest. Two parts should go to the Monasterie, where­in his yonger son should be brought vp. And two parts like­wise to the Monastcries where his two daughters shuld liue: but with this prouiso, that if they would not professe that kind of life, yet all their money should remaine whole and safe to their vse. One parte was bequeathed to Bernardine, and as much to Vincent, and halfe a part to the Cartufians, to be made partaker of all good works that should be done by their whole Order. That which remained, was to be giuen in secret to the poore: Quos beneficio dignos iudicassent Bernerdinus & Vincen­tius, that is, whom B [...]rnardine and Vincent should thinke wor­thy of that benefit.

Mar.

You should haue said (as Lawyers do) Quos vel quas, that is, he or she, male or female. And what was next?

Phae.

Then they demaunded of the sicke man, (after they had rehearsed his Will) in this manner: George Gunner, you being aliue, and of perfect memorie do approoue this your last will and testament? And he said, I do approoue it. It is your last and immutable will, is it not? He saide: It is. And you make me (quoth Bernardine) and this man Vincent Executors of this your last will? He sayd, I doe. Then he was requi­red to subscribe his name.

Mar.

How could he doe that, lying a dying?

Phae.

Barnardine guided his hand.

Mar.

What did he subscribe?

Phae.

Saint Francis and Saint Dominicke be enemies vnto him that shall assay to alter any part of this will: these things being thus done, his wife, and children gaue their right hands to the sicke man, and were sworne to perform that which was giuen them in charge. Then there was much adooe about the funerall solemnities. At length this was concluded, that of e­uery one of the fiue orders there should nine be present at his buriall, for the honor of the fiue bookes of Moses, and the nine [Page] orders of Angells. Euery order should beare his Crosse and sing mourneful songs before the coarse. Moreouer, besides hisA good reson kinred, there should be thirty other mourners, because, for so many pence Christ was solde. The taper bearers should be in mourning apparel, and for honors sake, they shoulde be ac­companied with twelue mourners, for this is the holy num­ber of the Apostolike order, after the coffin should his horse go in mourning apparel, with his head tied so lowe to his knées, that he should séeme, as it were, to require his maister of the ground. The vpper cloth should be set here and there with his armes, and in like manner euery torch, and euery mourning garment should haue his armes. And his body should be laid on the right hand of the hie Altare in a marble toombe, which should hang ouer foure foote from the ground, and his picture to lie vpon the top of it, carued out in white marble, from the crowne of the head to the sole of the foote: hée should also haue his helmet, with his crest, his crest was a Swannes necke: vpon his left arme was his buckler, with his armes grauen vpon the same: these were three wilde Boares heades ore, in a field argent, and vpon his side his sworde, with a gilded hilt, that should be fa [...]ned to a gilt b [...]lt set with gilt bosses: and vp­on his féete gilt spurres, for he was a knight, and vnder his féete a leopard. And vppon the face of the Tom be was a title worthy of such a man. And his heart he would haue layd vp by it selfe in Saint Francis his cell, but his entra [...]ls he bequea­thed to the Priest of the Parish, to be buried honourably in a chappel that was dedicated to our Lady.

Mar.

Truely a very honourable funerall, but very costly. At U [...]ice you shall see a Cobler haue more honour with lesse charge: One company will giue a most excellent coffin, and sometime you shall sée sixe hundred Monkes in their coates or cloakes, accompany one man to his graue.

Phae.

We haue séene also, and haue laughed hartily at these foolish shewes that poore men will make, there folow Fullers, and Curriers before, and Coblers behinde, and Monkes in the middest, a man would take them for monsters, or chimny swéepers, and this was no otherwise, if you had séene it. It [Page] was also prouided by George, that the Franciscans and Do­minicans should cast lots, which of them should goe foremost in the funerall shew, and that the rest also after them should doe the like, for auoyding of tumult: the parish priest and his clarkes should come last of all, for the Monkes would haue it so.

Mar.

He could order solemne sights, aswell as armies.

Phae.

Yea and this was also prouided, that the solemne fu­nerall which was to be kept by the parish priest, should for ho­nors sake be graced with alittle musicke. Now whil [...]st these things were thus in handling, the sicke man grew very weak, and gaue most euident signes that his time was come, and so commeth the last acte of this storie: now the bishops pardon was read vnto him, whereby he was fréed from al his sinnes, and from all feare of Purgatorie: and besides that, all his goodes were iustified and approoued.

Mar.

What, th [...]se that were gotten by rapine, violence, and deceit?

Phae.

Truely after the manner of the warres, but by good happe there was present one Philip a Lawy [...]r, and his wifes brother. He in the pardon noted a place otherwise put than it should haue béene, and suspected some falshood in it.

Mar.

In good time, but what if that had béene dissembled, if there had béene an error? I thinke the sicke man should haue béene neuer the worse.

Phae.

I grant you that: but the sicke man was so troubled about that matter, that he beganne to despaire. There Vin­cent played the man, and bade him be of good chéere, ser that he had authoritie to correct or put in whatsoeuer was amisse, or wanting in the Pardon. And (quoth he) if any thing in the Pardon deceiue you, I pawne my soule for yours, and lette yours go to heauen, and mine to hell.

Mar.

Dooth God allowe of such exchanges to be made of soules? And if he shoulde, did your frien [...] George deale wise­ly to take such a pledge? What if Vincents soule should goe to hell without any exchange at all as due to the Diuell before?Exchange of soules.

Ph [...]dr.

Ile tell you what was doone, this did Vincent, and [Page] truly the s [...]cke man séemed to like it well. Then were read all those clauses wherein George was promised to be partaker of all the good déedes that were euer done by all the foure ordersGood deeds Mendican [...]s, namely the Augustines, Franciscanes, Bernardines, and Dominicks▪ and also of the fift, namely the Cartusians.

Mar.

I should haue feared, that if I should carrie such a load, it would haue pressed me downe to hell.

Phae.

I speake of his good déedes, which do no more trouble a soule flying into heauen, then feathers do a bird.

Mar.

To whom then did he bequeath his bad déedes?

Phae.

To Captaines of the warres in Germanie.

Mar.

By what law?

Phae.

By the law of the Gospell: To him that hath shall be giuen. There was also recited the number of Masses and Psalters that should accompanie the soule of the dead man, and that was huge. After this was rehearsed his confession, and the Priests absolution was giuen him.

Mar.

And did he so yéeld vp the Ghost?

Phae.

Not yet. There was spred vpon the ground a Mat of Bulrushes, and at the beginning before it was vnfolded, it was like a Pillow in fashion.

Mar.

What was now to be done?

Phae.

That they strewed with ashes, but very thin: andHere was stuffe indeed [...]nough to haue infected a sound body. vpon it they laide the bodie of the sicke man, then was spred vpon him a Franciscans Coate, but first consecrated with prayers, and holy-water. A Friers Coole was put vnder his head, for then it could not be put on, and withall was laid his pardon, and all his prouisoes.

Mar.

This is a new kind of death indéed.

Phae.

And they had that, the Diuell hath no power ouer them that die in that maner, so they say, that among others, St. Martin, and St. Francis died.

Mar.

But their life was answerable to their death. And I pray, what then?

Phae.

Then there was reached to the sicke man the Image of the Crosse, and a waxe Candle: when the Crosse was ta­ken him, he said, I was woont in warre to be defended with [Page] my Buckler, but now I will oppose this buckler against my enemie: and when he had kissed it, laid it vpon his left shoul­der; but to the holy Candle he said, sometimes with my speare I haue preuailed against the enemies of my bodie, but now I will shake this speare at the enemies of my soule And with that they all fled a­way, as a dog doth from a gammon of bacon, when he is through ly a hungred..

Mar.

This was warrelike inough.

Phae.

These were the last wordes that he vttered: for pre­sently death was in his tongue, and he began to breathe out his soule. Bernard standing at his right hand, and Vincent at his left hand; the one shewed him the image of Saint Francis, and the other the Image of Saint Dominicke. The rest that were in the Chamber murmured certaine Psalmes with a murmuring voyce. Bernard with great and loude voyce stood roaring in his right eare: and Vincent the like in his left eare.

Mar.

What did they crie?

Phae.

To this effect cried Bernard: George Gunner, if now you like of that we haue done, turne your head to the rightO miserable comforters. Not a word al this while what Christ did for him. hand: and he did so. On the other side, Vincent cried: feare not George, thou hast Francis, and Dominicke to fight for thée. Be secure, and take no care for any thing. Thinke what aboun­dance of merits thou hast, what a pardon thou hast: and last of all, remember that I haue pawned my soule for thine if there should be any danger, if thou doest beléeue & like these things, then turne thy head to the left hand, and so he did. Againe with the like noyse they cried; if thou beléeuest these things, crush my hand, saith the one, and mine, said the other, and so he did. And so with turning of his head this way and that way, and crushing of their haudes there were almost thrée houres spent, since George began to gaspe for breath. Here Ber­nard standing vpright, pronounced his absolution againe; but before he could finish it, George was gone. This was about midnight; in the morning they went about their anatomie: and after dinner they finished the buriall in manner afore­saide.

Mar.

I neuer heard of a more laborious death, nor yet of a more ambicious funerall: but I thinke you will not pub­lish [Page] this tale abroad.

Phae.

Why? there is no danger in it; for if the things which I haue told be good, and godly, it is sit for the people to know them, if not, all good men will giue me thanks for bewraying them, to that end that some being corr [...]cted with shame, may no more do the like, and the simple may beware that they be not ouertaken with the like error.

Mar.

You speake both truly and stoutly, and now I desireOf Cornelius [...]s ende. to heare what end Cornelius made.

Phae.

As he liued hurtfull to none, so he died: he had euerie yeare a feuer, which came vnto him at certaine times in the yeare. Now that, (whether it were by reason of oppressing olde age, for he was aboue thrée score, or whether it were of some other cause I know not) did more vrge the man then it was woont to do. And he [...]éemed to féele the day of his dissolu­tion to approach neare at hand: therefore foure dayes before he died, on the Lords day he went to Church, he conferred with his Minister, he heard the holy Sermon, and Seruice, he reuerently receiued the Lord [...]s Supper, and so returned home againe.

Mar.

Did he vse no Phisitions helpe?

Phae.

Yes, onely one he was aduised by, both a good Phisi­tion, and a good man. His name is Iacob Castrutius, he told Cor­nelius that he would do the best good that he could for his friend but said withall, that there was more helpe in God then in Phisitions. Cornelius receiued this speach in as good part as if he had giuen him most certain hope of life. Therfore though he were euer to his abilitie good to the poore, yet now whatso­euer he could spare, after he had taken order for his wife and children, he gaue it to the néedie, not to these proude beggers, that are in euerie place, but to the honest poore, who wrought hard for their liuing, and yet were poore, their charges being greater then their labour could supplie, I prayed him to go to his bed, and to send for the Minister, rather then by walking vp and downe to weary his thin wasted bodie. His answere was, that his care was alwayes rather to be helpfull, than troublesome to his friends, if it were possible, and that hée [Page] would not be vnlike himselfe at his death. And truly he did not kéepe his bed aboue one day, and part of a night, before he left this world. In the meane time, for the weakenesse of his bodie, he leaned on a staffe, or sate in a Chaire, seldome would he lie in his bed, but vpon his bed sometime, aud sit right vp. At this time he did euer giue something in charge of looking to those that were knowne to be honest poore folke, or reade on some holy Booke, which might stirre vp his minde to trust in God, and might also set forth the loue of God to vs-ward. If through wearinesse he were not able to reade, he would heare some friend rea [...]e vnto him. He did often with mar­uellous zeale exhort his familie to concord and mutuall loue, and to the studie of true godlinesse: and those that tooke care for his death, he did comfort most louingly. He did also admo­nish them all, and all his friends to pay euerie man his owne.

Mar.

Did he not make a Will?

Phae.

Yes, he did that before, when he was whole & strong. For he was of opinion, that they are not Wils, but dotings, or dreames rather, which men make when they lie a dying.

Mar.

Did he giue nothing to the Monasteries, and Men­dicant Friars?

Phae.

Not a farthing: I haue (said he) to my abilitie disposed all my litle substance: now as I leaue to others the possession of my goodes: so I also leaue them the dispensation of them, And I hope they will sée them better employed then I haue done.

Mar.

Did he not send for religious men to be about him as George did?

Phae.

Truly there was not one more then his owne fami­ly, and two of his speciall friends: for he said he would not trouble any more at his death, then he did at his birth.

Mar.

I expect an end of this storie.

Phae.

You shal haue it presently: he sent for his pastor, who gaue him the holy communio [...], but without any secret confes­sion: for he saide that his minde was not troubled with anie thing. Néere his pastor beganne to deale with him about his [Page] buriall, and asked him, where, and in what manner he would be buried? Bury me (saide the other) euen as you would burie a christian man of the most inferior sorte, neither doe I care where you lay this body of mine, it will be found out well e­nough in the last day wheresoeuer it be laide, and as for fune­rall pompe I regarde it not. Then there was mention made of the ringing of belles, of yéerely dirges to be sung, of a par­don, and the communion of merites to be purchased: to which his answer was, My pastor, I shal be neuer the worse, if there be no bell rung for me: if you bestow any solemne funerall on me, it is more than néede: or if there be any other thing that the publike custome of the church requireth, if it may be omit­ted without offence to the weake ones, I leaue it to your dis­cretion. Neither is it my purpose, either to buy any mannes prayers, or to spoile any man of his merits, Christ hath me­rited sufficiently for me, and I hope the prayers of the church will not alittle prosite me while I am aliue. My whole trust is, that the prince of Pastors the Lord Iesus, hath done away all my sinnes, and fastned them vnto his Crosse, and that hée hath written and sealed my pardon with his most pretious blood, whereby he hath made vs assured of eternall life, if wée put all our trust in him. For God forbidde that I with mans merites and pardons should prouoke my God to enter into iudgement with his seruant, being most assured, that in his sight no flesh liuing shall be iustified, I appeale from his iu­stice to his mercy, which is great and vnspeakeable. Hauing spoken these things the Minister departed. Cornelius hauing conceiued great hope of saluation, with great ioy and chéere­fulnes, willeth some things to be read vnto him out of the Bi­ble, which tend to prooue the resurrection of the dead, and the rewarde of immortallitie, as that out of Esay concerning the death of Hezechia, together with his song: then the fiftéenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians: then of the death of Lazarus, out of Iohn, but especially the hystorie of Christes passion out of the Gospel. Oh how gréedily did he deuoure (as it were) euery thing in his minde? at some things sighing, at some lifting vp his hands with thankesgiuing, reioycing at [Page] some, and at many things that were read vnto him, he would cast forth certaine short prayers. After dinner, when he had slept a while, he willed the twelfth chapter of Iohn to be read vnto him, euen to the end: héere you would haue saide he had béene a man transfigurated, and inspired with a new spirite. Now it grew towards the euening, he called for his wife and children, and raising vp himselfe so well as he could, he spak [...] vnto them after this manner. Most dée [...]e wise, whome God hath before ioyned together, the same God doth now putte a­sunder, but onely in body, and that but for a short time. That care, and loue, and godlines which héeretofore thou hast she­wed to me and these swéete pledges, bestow whally on these the fruite of our marriage, which God hath giuen vnto vs, maintaine them and briug them vp in such sorte as they may be compted worthy of Christ, which if thou shalt doe, as I trust thou wi [...]t, there shall be no cause why they shoulde bée compted orphanes. But if thou chau [...]ce to marry againe, (at which word she burst out into great wéeping, and beganne to sweare that she would neuer set her minde vpon marriage againe.) But héere Cornelius interrupted her, and saide, My most deare sister in Christ, if the Lord Iesus shall vouchsafe to bestowe this strength of spirite vpon thée, be not thou wan­ting to his heauenly gift, but embrace it: for it will be better both for thée and thy children: but if the infirmitie of the flesh shall call thée to the married state, then knowe that my death doth set thée frée from that power which I haue had ouer thée, but not from that faithfulnesse, which both in respect of mée and thée, thou owest vnto all the children common to vs both. As touching matrimonie, vse that libertie which the Lorde hath permitted vnto thée: onely this I request, and admonish thée of, that thou choose a man of those conditions: and thou also to shew thy selfe in such sort towards him, that he may ei­ther by his owne goodnesse be drawen, or by thy commoditie may be prouoked to loue his sonnes in lawe. And moreouer, beware that thou doost not binde thy selfe by any vow: Kéepe thy selfe frée to God and our children, whome I would haue thée so to traine vp in all piety, that they may not addict them­selues [Page] vnto my trade, vntill by their yeares and experience of things, it shall appeare for what kind of life they are most fit. Then turning to his children, hée exhorted them to the stu­die of godlinesse, to obey their mother, and to haue mutuall loue and concord amongst themselues. Hauing ended these sayings, he kissed his wife, and his children, and prayed God to blesse them. After all this, he looking vppon the rest that were present, he said, before to morrow morning, the Lord Ie­sus which rose againe in the morning, will vouchsafe of his great mercie to call this soule out of the sepulchre of this body, and out of the darkenesse of this mortalitie, into his heauenly light. I will not wearie my tender age with néedlesse wat­chings. And let the rest also go take their rest, one shall [...]ustics to be with me, to put me in minde of some of those holy in­structions which haue béene read. The night being past, about foure of the clocke, all his family being about him, he willed the whole Psalme to be read vnto him, which the Lord Iesus praying rchearsed vpon the crosse. That done, he said, The Lord is my light and my saluation, whom shall I feare? The Lord is the protector of my life, of whom shall I be afraide? Then he folded his hands vpon his breast in maner of a sup­plicant, and lifting his eyes toward heauen, he said, Lord Ie­sus receiue my spirit. And forthwith closed vp his eies, as one about to sléepe, and with a little sigh yéelded vp the ghost, you would haue said he had béene asléepe.

Mar.

I neuer heard of a more easie departure.

Phae.

And so he was in all his life. They were both my friends, p [...]raduenture I shall not iudge indifferently which of them died the more Christian-like, you which are of soun­der iudgement, can tell better than I.

Mar.

That I will, but at my leysure.

FINIS.

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