The inter­locutours.

• HEDONIVS
• SPVDEVS.

WHAT meaneth mi Spudeus, too applye hys booke so er­nestlye, I praye you what is the matter you murmour so with your selfe?

The truth is (O Hedoni) I seke too haue knowledge of a thing, but as yet I cannot fynde y^t whych maketh for my purpose.

What booke haue you there in your bosome?

Ciceros [Page] dialoge of the endes of good­nes.

It had bene farre more better for you, too haue sought for the begynnynges of godly thynges, then the endes.

Yea, but Marcus Tullius nameth y^e the ende of godlines which is an exquisite, a far pas­sing, and a very absolute good­nes in euerye puincte, wherein there is contained all kynde of vertu: vnto the knowledge ther of whosoeuer can attaine, shuld desire none other thīg, but hold himselfe hauyng onely that, as one most fully content and sa­tisfied.

That is a worke of very great learning and elo­quence. But doo you thynke, y^t you haue preuailed in any thīg there, whereby you haue the ra­ther [Page] come too the knowledge of the truth?

I have had such fruite and cōmoditie by it, that now verelye hereafter I shall doubt more of the effect and en­des of good thinges, then I did before.

It is for husbād menne too stande in doubt how farre the limittes and merebā ­kes extend.

And I cannot but muse styll, yea, and wonder very muche, why ther hath been so great controuersie in iudge­mentes vpon so weightie a matter (as this is) emongist so well learned menne: especially suche as bee most famous and aunci­ent writers.

This was euen the cause, where the verite of a thyng is playne and mani­fest, cōtrarily, y^e errour through [Page] ignoraunce againe in the same, is soone great & by diuers mea­nes encreaseth, for y^t thei knewe not the foundation and first be­ginnyng of the whole matter, they doo iudge at all auentu­res and are very fondly discea­ued, but whose sentence thynke you too bee truest?

Whan I heare MARCVS Tullius re­proue the thyng, I then fātasie none of all their iudgementes, and whan I heare hym agayne defende the cause: it maketh me more doubtfull thē euer I was and am in suche a studie, that I can say nothyng. But as I suppose y^e Stoickes haue erred the lest, and nexte vnto thē I com­mend the Peripatetickes.

Yet I lyke none of their opini­ons [Page] so well as I doo the Epi­cures.

And emōgist all the sectes: the Epicures iudgement is most reproued and condem­ned with the whole consent and arbitreinēt of all menne.

Let vs laye a side all disdayne and spite of names, and admitte the Epicure too bee suche one, as euery man maketh of hym. Let vs ponder and weighe the thyng as it is in very deed. He setteth the high and principall felicitie of man in pleasure, and thiketh that lyfe most pure and godly, whiche may haue greate delectatiō and pleasure, and ly­tle pensiuenes.

It is euen so.

What more vertuou­ser thyng, I praye you, is possi­ble too bee spokē then this sai­yng.

Yea, but all menne wonder and crye out on it, and saye: it is the voyce of a bruite beast, and not of manne.

I knowe thei doo so, but the [...] erre in y^e vocables of theise thinges, and are very ignoraunt of the true and natiue significati­ons of the woordes, for if wee speake of perfecte thynges, no kinde of menne bee more righ­ter Epicures, then Christen men liuing reuerētly towardes God and mā, and in the right seruice and worshiping of Christ.

But I thinke the Epicures bee more nerer and agree rather with the Cynickes, then with the Christien sorte: forsoth y^e Chri­stiens make them selues leane [Page] with fastynge, bewayle and la­ment their offences, and eyther they bee nowe poore, or elles theyr charitie and liberalitie on the nedye maketh theim poore, thei suffer paciently too bee op­pressed of mēne that haue great power and take many wronges at their handes, and many men also laughe theim too skorne. Nowe, if pleasure brynge feli­citie wyth it, or helpe in anye wyse vnto the furderaunce of vertue: we see playnly that this kynde of lyfe is fardest from al pleasures.

But doo you not admitte Plautus too bee of authoritie?

Yea, yf he speake vprightely.

Heare nowe them, and beare a­waye wyth you the saiynge of [Page] an vnthriftie seruaunt, whyche is more wyttier then all the pa­radoxes of the Stoickes.

I tarie to heare what ye wil say

Ther is nothyng more miserable then a mynd vnquiet & agreued with it selfe.

I like this saiyng well, but what doo you gather of it?

If nothing bee more miserable thē an vnquiet mynde, it foloweth also, that there is nothing hap­piar, then a mynde voyde of all feare, grudge, and vnquietnes

Surely you gather the thing together with good reasō but that notwithstandyng, in what countrie shall you fynde any such mynde, that knoweth not it selfe gyltie and culpable in some kynde of euell▪

[Page] I call that euyll, whiche dissol­ueth the pure loue and amitie betwixt God and manne.

And I suppose there bee verye fewe, but that thei bee offēders in this thynge.

And in good soth I take it, that al those y^t bee purdged, are clere: whych wiped out their fautes with lee of teares, and saltpeter of soro­wfull repentaunce, or els with the fire of charitie, their offēces nowe bee not only smalle grefe and vnquietnes too them, but also chaunce oftē for some more godlier purpose, as causing thē too lyue afterward more accor­dyngly vnto Gods commaūde­mētes.

In deede I knowe saltpeter and lee, but yet I ne­uer hearde before, that faultes [Page] haue been purdged with fire.

Surely, if you go to the minte you shall see gould fyned wyth fyre, notwithstādyng that ther is also, a certaine kynde of linē that brenneth not if it bee cast in y^e fyre, but loketh more whi­ter then any water coulde haue made it, & therefore it is called Linum asbestinum, a kynde of ly­nen, whyche canne neither bee quenched with water nor brent with fyre.

Nowe in good faith you bring a paradox more wōderful then all the maruai­lous and profound thynges of the Stoickes: lyue thei pleasa­sauntly whom Chryst calleth blessed for that they mourne & lament?

Thei seme too the worlde too mourne, but [Page] verely they lyue in greate plea­sure, and as the commune sai­ynge is, thei lyue all together in pleasure, in somuche that SARDANAPALVS, Philoxe­nus, or Apitius compared vnto them: or anye other spoken of, for the greate desyre and study of pleasures, did leade but a so­rowefull and a myserable lyfe.

These thinges that youde­clare bee so straunge and newe, that I can scarcelye yeoue any credite vnto them.

Proue and assaye them ones, and you shall fynde all my saiynges so true as the Gospell, and imme­diatly I shal bryng the thynge too suche a conclusion (as I suppose) that it shall appeare too differ very lytle from the truth

make hast then vnto your purpose.

It shalbe doone if you wyll graunt me certayne thynges or I begynne.

If in case you demaunde suche as bee resonable.

I wyl take myne aduauntage, if you con­fesse the thyng that maketh for mine intent.

go too.

I thynke ye wyll fyrste graunt me, that ther is great diuersitie betwxt the solle and the bodye

Euen as much as there is betwene heauen and yearth, or a thyng earthly and brute, & y^t whiche dieth neuer, but alway­es cōtaineth in it the godly na­ture.

And also, that false deceiueable & coūterfeited holy thynges, are not too bee taken for those, which in very dede be [Page] godly.

No more then the shaddowes are too bee estemed for the bodies, or the illusions and wonders of wytchcraftes or the fantasies of dreames, are too bee taken as true thynges.

Hitherto you answer aptly too my purpose, and I thynke you wyl graunt me this thyng also, that true and godly plea­sure can reste and take place no where but only on such a mynd that is sobree and honest.

What elles? for no man reioy­seth too beholde the Sunne, if his eyes bee bleared or elles de­lecteth in wyne, if the agew ha­ue infected hys tast.

And the Epicure hymselfe, or elles I am disceiued, would not clippe & enbrace that pleasure, whiche [Page] would bring with it farre grea­ter payne and suche as would bee of long continuaunce.

I thynke he woulde not, if he had any wytte at all.

Nor you wyll not denye this, that God is the chiefe and especiall goodnes, then whō there is no­thyng fayrer, there is nothyng ameabler, ther is nothing more delicious and swetter.

No man wyll deny thys except he bee very harde hearted and of an vngentlernature then the Ciclopes.

Nowe you haue graunted vnto me, that none lyue in more pleasure, then thei whyche lyue vertuouslye, and agayne, none in more sorowe and calamytie then those that [Page] lyue vngratiously.

Then I haue graūted more thē I thou­ght I had.

But what thing you haue ones cōfessed too bee true (as Plato sayth) you should not deny it afterward.

Go furth with your matter.

The litle whelpe y^t is set store and greate price by, is fed most daintely, lieth soft, plaieth and maketh pastime continually, doo you thinke that it lyueth plesaūtly?

It dooeth true­ly.

Woulde you wyshe to haue suche a lyfe?

God forbyd that, excepte I woulde rather bee a dogge then a man,

Then you confesse that all the chief pleasures arise and spring frō the mynd, as though it were from a welspryng.

[Page] That is euident ynough.

Forsoth the strength and effica­cy of the minde is so great, that often it taketh away the felyng of al externe and outward pain & maketh that pleasaunt, which by it selfe is very peynful.

We se that dayly in louers, ha­uyng great delight to sytte vp long & too daunce attendaunce at their louers doores all the colde wynter nyghtes.

Now weigh this also, if the na­turall loue of man, haue suche great vehemency in it, which is a cōmune thyng vnto vs, both with bulles and dogges, howe much more should all heauenly loue excell in vs, which cōmeth of y^e spirit of Christ, whose strē ­gthe is of suche power, that it [Page] would make death a thīg most terrible, too bee but a pleasure vnto vs.

What other men thīke inwardly I knownot, but certes thei wāt many pleasures which cleaue fast vnto true and perfect vertue.

What plea­sures?

Thei waxe not rich, thei optein no promotiō, thei bā ket not, thei daūce not, thei sing not, thei smell not of swete oynt mētes, thei laugh not, thei play not.

We should haue made no mention in thys place of ry­ches and prefermente, for they bryng wyth them no pleasaunt lyfe, but rather a sadde and a pēsiue. Let vs intreate of other thynges, suche as they chiefely seeke for, whose desyre is to liue deliciously, see ye not daily drō ­kerdes, [Page] fooles, and mad menne grinne and leape?

I see it

Do you thynke that thei liue most pleasaūtly?

God send myne enemies such myrth & pleasure.

Why so?

For ther lacketh emongist thē sobri­etie of mind.

Then you had leuer sit fastyng at your booke, then too make pastime after a­ny suche sorte.

Of thē both: truly I had rather chose to del­ue.

For this is plaine that be twixt the mad mā & the drūkerd ther is no diuersitie, but y^t slepe wil helpe the one his madnes, & with much a doo y^e cure of Phy­sicions helpeth the other, but the foole natural differeth nothing frō a brute beast except by shape and portrature of body, yet thei [Page] be lesse miserable whom nature hathe made verye brutes, then those that walowe theim selues in foule and beastly lustes.

I confesse that.

But now tell me, whether you thynke thē sobre and wyse, which for playn vanities and shadowes of ple­sure, booth dispice the true and godlye pleasures of the mynde and chose for them selues suche thynges as bee but vexacion & sorowe.

I take it, thei bee not.

In deedethei bee not drūke with wyne, but with loue with anger, with auarice, with ambicion, and other foule and filthie desires, whiche kynde of drunkenes is farre worse, thē that is gotten with drinking of wine. Yet Sirus y^t leude cōspaniō [Page] of whom mention is made in y^e commedie, spake witty thynges after he had slepte hym self soo­bre, and called too memorie his greate and moost beastlye drunkenes: but the minde that is infected with vicious & nou­ghty desire, hath muche a doo too call it selfe whom agein?

How many yeares doeth loue, anger, spite, sensualitie, excesse, and ambition, trouble and pro­uoke the mynde? How many doo wee see, whiche euen from their youth, too their latter dais neuer awake nor repēt them of the drunkennes, of ambitiō, ni­gardnes, wanton lust, & riatte?

I haue knowen ouermany of y^t sorte.

You haue graū ­ted that false and fayned good [Page] thinges, are not too bee estemed for the pure and godly.

And I affirme that still.

Nor that there is no true and perfect pleasure, except it bee taken of honest and godly thynges.

I confesse that.

Then (I pray you) bee not those good that the commune sorte seeke for, they care not howe?

I thinke they be not.

Sure­ly if thei were good, they would not chaunce but onely too good men: and would make all those vertuous that they happen vn­too. What maner of pleasure make you that, doo you thinke it too bee godly, which is not of true & honest thynges, but of de ceatfull: and coometh out of y^e shadowes of good thynges?

[Page] Nay in noo wyse.

For plea­sure maketh vs to liue merely.

Yea, nothyng so muche.

Therfore no man truely liueth pleasauntly, but he that lyueth godly: that is, whiche vseth and delecteth onli in good thynges: for vertue of it selfe, maketh a man to habound in all thynges that bee good, perfete, & prayse worthy: yea, it onely prouoketh God the fountaine of all good­nes, too loue and fauour man.

I almost consent with you.

But now marke howe far they bee from all pleasure, whi­che seeme openly emongist all men too folowe nothyng, but an inordinate delectation in in thynges carnall. [Page] First their mynde is vile, and corrupted with the sauour and taste of noughtie desires, in so muche y^t if any pleasaunt thing chaunce them, forthwith it wax­eth bitter, and is nought set by, in like maner as where y^e welle hed is corrupted and stynketh, there y^e water must nedes be vn sauery. Agein ther is no honest pleasure, but that whiche wee receaue with a sobre and a quiet mynde. For wee see, nothyng re­ioyseth the angry man more, thē too bec reuenged on his offen­ders, but that pleasure is tur­ned into pain after his rage bee past, and anger subdued.

I say not the contrary.

Fi­nally, suche leude pleasures bee taken of fallible thinges, there­fore [Page] it foloweth that they be but delusiōs and shadowes. What woulde you say furthermore, if you saw a mā so deceaued with sorcerie & also other detestable witchecraftes, eat, drynke, leap, laugh, yea, and clappe handes for ioye, when ther wer no such thyng there in very dede, as he beleueth he seeth.

I wolde say he were both mad and mise­rable.

I my self haue been often in place, where the lyke thyng hath been doone. There was a priest whiche knewe per­fectly by longe experience and practise, the arte to make thyn­ges seme that they were not, o­therwise called, deceptio visus,

He did not lerne that arte of the holy scripture?

Yea, rather [Page] of most popeholy charmes and witchecraftes: that is too saye, of thinges, cursed, damp­nable, and wourthy too bee ab­horred. Certayne ladies & gen­tlewomen of the courte, spake vnto hym oftentimes: saiyng, they woulde coom̄ one day too his house and see what good chere he kept: reprouyng, great­ly vile and homly fare, and moderate expenses in all thynges. He graunted they shulde bee welcome, and very instauntly desired them. And they came fa­styng because they would haue better appetites. Whā they wer set to dyner (as it was thought) ther wāted noo kynde of deliti­ous meat: they filled thē selues haboūdantly: after y^e feast was [Page] doone, they gaue moost hearty thanckes, for their galaunte cheare, and departed, euery one of them vnto their owne lod­gynges: but anone their sto­mackes beganne too waxe an hungred, they maruayled what this shuld meane, so soone to be an hungred and a thirste, after so sumptuous a feast: at the last the matter was openly knowen and laught at.

Not with­out a cause, it had been muche better for thē too haue satisfied their stomackes at their owne chābers with a messe of potage, thē too be fed so delitiousli with vain illusiōs.

And as I thīk y^e cōmune sort of men ar muche more too bee laught at, whiche in steede of Godlye thynges, [Page] chose vaine and transitory sha­dowes, and reioyce excedyngly in suche folishe phansies that turne not afterwarde in too a a laughter, but into euerlasting lamentation and sorow.

The more nerelier I note your saiynges, the better I like thē.

Go too, let vs graunt for a tyme these thynges too bee called pleasaunt, that in very dede ar not. Would you saye that meeth were swete: whiche had more Aloes myngled with it, then honye?

I woulde not so say and if there were but the third part of an ounce of A­loes mixt with it.

Orels, would you wishe to bee scabbed because you haue some pleasure too scratch?

Noo, if I wer [Page] in my right mynd.

Their weigh with your self how great peyne is intermyngled wyth these false and wrongly named pleasures, y^t vnshamefast loue filthie desire, much eatyng and drinking bring vs vnto: I doo omitte now that, which is prin­cipall grudge of cōscience, ene­mitie betwixt God and mā, and expectation of euerlastyng pu­nishēment. What kynd of pleasure, I pray you is ther in these thinges, that dooeth not bryng with it a greate heape of oute­ward euilles?

What bee thei?

We ought to let passe and forbeare in this place auarice, ambition, wrath, pryde enuy; whiche of their selues bee heuy and sorowful euylles and [Page] let vs conferre and compare all those thynges together, y^t haue the name of some chief and spe­cial pleasure: wher as the agew the hedache, the swelling of the belly, dulnes of witte, infamy, hurt of memory, vomyting, de­caye of stomacke, tremblyng of the body succede of ouer muche drynking: thynke you, that the Epicure would haue estemed a­ny suche lyke pleasure as thys, cōuenient and wourthy desire?

He woulde saye it wer vt­terly too bee refused.

Wheras young men also with hauntynge of whores (as it is dayly seene) catche the newe le­prosie, nowe otherwyse named Iobs agew, and some cal it the scabbes of Naples, throughe [Page] which desease they feele often y^e most extreme and cruell paines of deathe euen in this lyfe, and cary about abodye resemblyng very much some dead coarse or carryn, do you thynke that ther apply them selues vnto godlye pleasure.

Noo, for after thei haue been often familiar with their pretyones, then they must goo streighte too the bar­bours, that chaunceth continu­allye vnto all whoremongers.

Now fayne that ther wer alyke measure of pain and ple­sure, would ye then require too haue the toothache so longe as the pleasure of quaffing & whor dome endured?

Verely I had rather wāt them booth, for ther is no commoditie nor van­tage [Page] to bye pleasure with payn but only to chaūg one thing for another, but the heit choise is nowe not too affectionate anye such leudnes, for MAR. Tullius calleth that an inward greife & sorow.

But now y^e prouoca­tion & entisemēt of vnleful ple­sure, besides that it is much lesse then the pain which it bringeth with it, it is also a thing of a very short time: but if the leprosye bee ones caught, it tourmēteth mē al their life daies very piti­fully & oftentimes cōstraineth them to wyshe for death before thei cā dye.

Such disciples as those then, the Epicure would not knowe.

For the most part pouertie, a very miserable and painfull burden, foloweth [Page] lechery, of immoderate lust cō ­meth the palsie, tremblyng of y^e senewes, blcardnes of eyes, and blyndnes, the leprosie and not these only, is it not a ꝓper pece of worke (I pray you) to chaūg this short pleasure neyther ho­nest nor yet godly, for so manye euylles far more greuouse and of muche longer continuance.

Although there shoulde no pain com of it, I esteme hym to bee a very fond occupier, which would chaūge precious stones for glasse.

You meane that would lose the godly pleasures of the mynde, for the coloured pleasures of y^e body.

That is my meanyng.

But nowe let vs come to a more perfecter supputation, neither the agewe [Page] nor yet pouerty foloweth alwaies carnal pleasure, nor the new leprosy or els the palsy waitnot on at altimes the great & exces­siue vse of lecherye, but grudge of cōsiēce euermore is a folower & sure companiō of al vnleaful pleasure, then the which as it is plainly agreed betwixt vs, no­thyng is more miserable.

Yea, rather it grudgeth their cō science sometyme before hande, & in the self pleasure it pricketh their mynde, yet ther bee some y^t you woulde say, want this mo­tion and feelyng.

Thei bee nowe therfore in worse estate & cōditiō. Who would not rather feele payne, then too haue hys body lacke any perfecte sence, truly from some ether intempe­ratnes [Page] of euel desires, euen like as it were a certayne kynde of drunkenes, or els wont and cō ­mune haunt of vice which ar so hardened in them, y^t they take a way y^e felyng & cōsideration of euyl in their youth, so that whā agee commeth vpō them beside other infinitie hurtes and per­turbations agaynst whose commyng thei should haue layd vp the deedes of their former lyfe, as a special iuwel and treasure: then thei stande greatly in fear of death, a thyng emongist all other most ineuitable, & that no man canne shonne: yea, and the more they haue heretofore been dysmayed and lacked their sen­ces, the greater now is their vn quietnes and grudge of cons­cience, [Page] then truely the mynde is sodenly awaked whether it wol or noo, and verely wher as olde agee is alwayes sad and heuy of it selfe for as muche as it is in subiection and bondage vn­to many incommodities of na­ture, but then it is farre more wretchede and also fylthye, if the mynde vnquiet with it selfe shal trouble it also: feastes, ryo­tous banketyng, syngyng, and daunsynge, with manye suche other wanton toyes & pastimes which he was communely yeo­uē vnto & thought very plesaūt when he was young, bee nowe paynfull vnto hym beyng olde and crooked, ne agee hath no­thyng too comforte and fortifi

[Page] it selfe withall, but onely too remembre that it hath passed ouer the course of yeares in ver­tue and godly liuyng and con­ceaue a special trust too obtaine herafter a better kynde of life.

These be the two staues where­vpon age is stayed, & if in their steed you wyll lay on hym these two burdens: that is, memorie how synfully he hath ledde his life, and desperation of the feli­citie that is too coome, I praye you what liuyng thyng can bee feyned too suffre sorer punishe­ment and greater miserie?.

Verely I can see nothyng al­though some man woulde saye an olde horse.

Then to cō ­clude it is too late to waxe wise And that saiyng appereth now [Page] too bee very true. Carefull mornynges doo oftentymes folowe mery euentides, and all vayne and outragious mixth euer turneth into sorowfull sighes: yea, & they shulde haue considered both that there is noo pleasure aboue y^e ioyfulnes of the heart, and that chearefull mynde ma­keth agee too florishe, an heauy spirit consumeth the boones, & also that all the dayes of the poore are euell: that is, sorow­full and wretched. And agayne a quiet mynde is lyke a conty­nuall feaste.

Ther­fore they bee wyse, that thryue in tyme, and gather too gether necessaries for that agee coom̄.

The holy scrip­ture intreateth not soo wordely [Page] as too measure the felicitie and highe consolation of manne, by the goodes of fortune, onely he is very poore, that is destitute and voyde of al grace & vertue, and standeth in boundage and debette, bothe of bodye & solle vnto that tyranne oure moost foo & mortall enemie the deuill.

Surely he is one that is veri rigorous and impatient in demaundynge of his dutie.

Moreouer that man is ryche, whiche fyndeth mercye and for­yeouenes at the handes of god. What shuld he feare, that hath suche a protectour? Whether men? where as playnely theyr hole power may lesse do agaēst God, then the bytyng of a gnat, [Page] hurteth the Elephant. Whether death? truly that is a right pas­sage for good men vnto all suf­ficient ioy and perfection accor­dyng too the iust reward of true religion and vertue. Whether hell? For as in that the holy prophete speaketh boldely vnto God. Although I shulde walke in the middest of the shadow of death, I wil not feare any euils because y^u art with me. Wher­fore shulde he stande in feare of deuils, whiche beareth in his heart hym, that maketh the de­uils too tremble and quake.

For in diuers places the holye scripture praiseth and declareth opēly the mynde of a vertuous man, too bee the right temple of God. And this to bee so true y^t [Page] that it is not too bee spoken a­gaynst, ne in any wise shuld bee denied.

Forsoth I can not see, by what reason these saiyn­ges of yours can be confuted althoughe they seme too varye muche from the vulgar and cō ­mune opinion of men.

Why doo they soo?

After your reasonyng euery honest poore man, shulde liue a more pleasaunt life, then any other, how much soeuer he did haboūd in riches, honour, and dignitie: and breuely though he had all kynde of pleasures.

Adde this too it (if it please you) too bee a kyng, yea, or an emperour if you take away a quiet mynd with it selfe, I dare boldely say, that the poore man sklenderlye [Page] and homely appareled, made weake with fastyng, watchyng, great toile and labour, and that hath scarcely a groat in all the worlde, so that his mynde bee godly, he lyueth more delicious­ly then that man whiche hathe fyue hūdreth times greater pleasures & delicates, then euer had Sardanapalus.

Why is it thē, that we see communely those that bee poore looke farre more heuely then riche men.

Because some of them bee twise poore, eyther some desease, ne­dines, watchyng, labour, na­kednesse, doo soo weaken the state of their bodyes, that by reason therof, the chearefulnes of their myndes neuer shew­eth it selfe, neyther in these thin­ges, [Page] nor yet in their deathe. The mynde, forsooth thoughe it bee inclosed within this mortal bo­dye, yet for that it is of a stron­ger nature, it sōwhat trāsfour­meth and fascioneth the bodie after it selfe, especially if the ve hement instigation of the spirit approche the violent inclinati­on of nature: this is the cause we see oftentymes suche men as bee vertuous die more cherefully, then those that make pa­styme contynually, & bee yeouē vnto al kynd of pleasures.

In very dede, I haue meruay­led oftten at that thyng.

Forsoothe it is not a thyng too bee marueyled at, though that there shulde bee vnspeakeable [Page] ioy and comforte where God is is present, whiche is the heed of all mirth and gladnes, nowe this is no straunge thyng, al­thoughe the mynde of a godly mad doo reioyce contynually in this mortall bodye: where as if the same mynde or spirit discen­ded into the lowest place of hell shuld lose no parte of felicitie, for whersoeuer is a pure mynd, there is god, wher God is: there is paradise, ther is heauen, ther is felicitie, wher felicitie is: ther is the true ioy and synsere glad­nes.

But yet they shuld liue more pleasauntly, if certein in­commodities were taken from them, and had suche pastymes as eyther they dispise orels can not get nor attaine vnto.

[Page] (I praye you) doo you meane, suche incommodities as by the commune course of nature fo­low the cōdition or state of mā: as hunger, thirst, desease, wery­nes, age, death, lyghtnyng ye­arthquake, fluddes & battail?

I meane other, and these also.

Then we intreate styll of mortal thynges and not of immortal, & yet in these euils the state of vertuous men, may bee better borne withal, then of suche as seeke for the pleasures of the body they care not howe.

Why so?

Especy­ally because their myndes bee accustomed and hardened with most sure and moderate gouer­naunce of reason against al out ragious affections of the mind [Page] and they take more patiently those thynges that cannot bee shonned then the other sort doo Furthermore, for as muche as thei perceiue, all such thynges ar sent of god, either for the pu­nishment of their faultes, or els too excitate and sturre them vp vnto vertue, then thei as meeke and obediente chyldren receiue them from the hād of their mer­cifull father, not only desireou­sly, but also chearefully and ge­ue thankes also, namely for so merciful punyshment and ine­stimable gaines.

But ma­ny doo occatiō griefes vnto thē selues.

But [...]o seeke remedye at the Phisicions, either to preserue their bodies in helth or elles if they bee sycke, too re­couer [Page] health, but willyngly too cause their owne sorowes, that is, pouertie, sickenes, persecuti­on, slaunder, excepte the loue of God compel vs therto, it is no­vertue but folishnes: but as of­often as thei bee punyshed for Christ and iustice sake, who dar bee so bold as too cal them beg­gers & wretches? whā the Lord himself very famyliarly calleth them blessed, and commaūdeth vs to reioyse for their state and condition.

Neuerthelesse, these thynges haue a certayne payne and griefe.

Thei haue, but on the onesyde, what for fear of hel, and the other for hoope of euerlastynge ioye, the payne is sone past and forgottē Now tell me if you knewe that [Page] you myghte neuer bee sycke, or elles that you shoulde feele no payne of your body in your life tyme, if you woulde but ones suffer your vtter skinne too bee prycked with a pynnes puinct, would you not gladly and with all your very heart suffer then so lytle a payne as that is?

Verye gladlye, yea, rather if I knewe perfectlye that my teeth would neuer ake, I would wil­lynglye suffer too bee prycked depe with a nedle, and too haue both mine eares bored through with a bodkin.

Surely what payne soeuer happeneth in this lyfe, it is lesse and shor­ter, compared with the eternall paines, then is the soden pricke of a needle, incomparisō of the [Page] lyfe of man though it bee neuer so long, for there is no conueni­ence or proportion of the thyng that hath ende, and that whych is infinite.

You speake ve­ry truly.

Now if a man coulde fully perswade you, that you should neuer feele payne in al your life, if you did but ones deuide the flame of y^e fyre, with your hande, whyche thyng vn­doughtely Pithagoras forbade, woulde you not gladlye doo it?

Yea, on that condicion I had liefer doo it an hundred ti­mes, if I knew precisely the promiser would kepe touch.

It is playne God cannot deceaue. But now that feelyng of paine in the fyre is longer vnto the whole lyfe of man▪ then is the [Page] lyfe of mā, in respect of the hea­uenlye ioye, althoughe it were thrise so long as y^e yeares of Ne­stor, for that casting of the hand in the fyre thoughe it bee neuer so shorte, yet it is some parte of hys lyfe, but the whole lyfe of man is noo portion of tyme in respect of the eternal lyfe,

I haue nothyng too saye aga­inst you.

Doo you then thyncke that anye affliction or tourment can disquiet those that prepare them selues wyth a chearful hearte and a stedfast hoope vnto the kyngedome of God, wher as the course of this lyfe is nowe so shorte?

I thinke not, if thei haue a sure perswasion and a constant hope too attayne. it.

I coome [Page] now vnto those pleasures, whi­che you obiected agaynst me, they do wythdrawe them selues from daunsynge, bankettynge, from pleasaunte seeghtes, they dispyce all these thynges, as thus: for to haue the vse of thinges farre more ioyfulle, and haue as great pleasure as these bee, but after another sorte: the eye hath not seene, the eare hath not heard, nor the heart of man cannot thyncke what consola­tions GOD hathe ordeined for them that loue hym. Sayncte Paule knewe what maner of thynges shoulde bee the son­ges, queeres, daunsynges, and bankettes of vertuous myn­des, yea, in this lyfe.

but there bee some leafull plea­sures, [Page] whyche they vtterlye re­fuse.

That maye bee, for the immoderate vse of leafull and godly games or pa­stymes, is vnleaful: and if you wyll excepte this one thing on­lye, in al other thei excelle whi­che seeme too leade a paynfull lyfe, and whom we take too bee ouerwhelmed with all kynd of miseries. Now I prai you what more roialler sight can ther be, then y^e cōtēplatiō of this world? and such men as y^e be in fauour of god keping his holy cōmaū ­demētes & loue his most blessed testamēt, receiue far greater pleasure in the syght therof, then thother sorte doo, for while thei behold wyth ouercurious eyes, y^t wōderful worke, their mynde [Page] is troubled because they can not compasse for what purpose he doeth such thinges, then thei improue the moost righte and wise gouernour of all and mur­mour at his doinges as though they were goddes of reprehen­sion: and often finde faute with that lady nature, and saye that she is vnnaturall, whiche taunt forsooth with as muche spite as can bee shewed with woordes, greueth nature: but truely it re­doundeth on hym, that made nature, if there bee any at all. But the vertuous man with godly & simple eyes beholdeth with an excedyng reioyce of heart the workes of his Lorde and father highly praysyng thē all, and neither reprehēdeth nor [Page] findeth faut with any of thē, but for euery thyng yeoueth moste hearty thankes, when he consi­dereth that al were made for the loue of man. And so in all thyn­ges, he praieth vnto the infinite power, deuine wisedome, & goodnes of the maker, wherof he per­ceiueth moste euident tokens in thynges that bee here created. Now fain that there were suche a palace in verie deede as Apu­leus faineth, or els one that were more royall and gorgeouse, and that you shoulde take twoo thi­ther with you too beholde it, the one a straunger, whiche gooeth for this intent onely too see the thyng, and the other the seruaūt or soonne of hym that firste cau­seth this buyldyng, whether [Page] will haue more delectie in it? the straunger, too whom suche ma­ner of house dooeth nothyng appartain, or the soonne whiche beholdeth with greate ioye and pleasure, the witte, riches, and magnificence of his deerely be­loued father, especially when he dooeth consider all this worke was made for his sake.

Your question is too plain: for they most cōmunely that bee of euill condicions, knowe that heauen and all thinges contained ther­in, wer [...] made for mannes sake.

Almoste al knowe that, but some dooe not remembre it, shewyng thēselues vnthākeful for the great and exhuberāt be­nefittes of god, & al though thei remember it, yet that mā taketh [Page] greater delight in the sight of it whiche hath more loue vnto the maker therof, in like maner as, he more chearfully wyll behold the element whiche aspireth to­warde the eternall life.

Your saiynges are muche like too bee true.

Nowe the pleasures of feastes dooeth not consist in the delicates of the mouth, nor in the good sauces of cookes, but in health of body and appetite of stomacke. You may not thynke that any delici­ous person suppeth more plea­sauntly hauyng before hym par triches, turtelles, leuerettes, be­kers, sturgeon, and lamprayes: then a vertuous man hauyng nothīg too eat, but onely bread potage, or wortes: and nothyng [Page] too drynke, but water, single bere, or wyne well alayde, because he taketh these thinges as prepared of God vnto all ly­uyng creatures, and that they bee now yeouē vnto him of his gentyll and mercifull father, praier maketh euery thyng too sauour well. The petition in y^e begynnyng of dyner sanctifieth all thynges and in a while after there is recited some holy lesson of the woorde of God: whiche more refresheth the minde, then meate the body, and grace after all this. Finally he riseth from the table, not ful: but recreated, not laden, but refreshed: yea, re­freshed both in spirit and bodie, thynke you that any chief deui­ser of these muche vsed bākets, & [Page] deintye delicaces fareth nowe more deliciously?

But in Venus there is greate delecta­cions if we beleue Arestotell.

And in this behalfe the vertu­ous manne far excelleth as well as in good fare, wiegh you now the matter as it is, the better a manne loueth his wife, the more he delecteth in the good felow ship and familiaritie that is be­twene theim after the course of nature. Furthermore, no menne louē their wiues more vehemē ­tly then thei that loue theim euē soo, as Christ loued the churche. For thei that loue thē for the de­sire of bodely pleasure, loue thē not. More ouer, the seldomer a­ny man dooeth accompany with his wife, the greater pleasure, it [Page] is to hym afterwarde, and that thyng the wātō poete knew full well whiche writeth, rare and seldome vse stereth vp pleasures. Albeit, the lest parte of pleasure is in the familiare company be­twene theim. There is forsothe far greater in the continuall leadyng of their liues too gether, whiche emongest none can be so plesaunt as those that loue syn­cerely and faithfully together in godly and christian loue, and loue a like one the other. In the other sort, oftē whē the pleasure of y^e body decaieth & waxeth old loue waxeth coold & is sone for­gottō, but emōgest right christē mē, the more y^t the lust of y^e flesh decreaseth & vanishethaway, y^e more thē al godly loue encreseth [Page] Are you not yet perswaded that none lyue more pleasauntly thē they whiche liue continually in vertue and true religiō of god?

Would god all men were as well perswaded in that thyng.

And if they bee Epicures y^t lyue pleasauntli: none bee righ­ter Epicures then they that liue vertuously, and if we wyll that euery thyng haue it right name none deserueth more y^e cogname of an Epicure, then that Prince of all godly wisedome too whō most reuerētly we ought alwai­es too praye: for in the greeke tonge an Epicure signifieth an helper. Nowe whan the lawe of nature was first corrupted with linne, whē the law of Moses did rather prouoke euil desires thē [Page] then remedy them. Whā the ty­raunte Sathanas reygned in this worlde freely and wythout punishement, then thys prynce onely, dyd sodenlye helpe man­kynde redy to perishe: wherfore thei erre shamefully which scoff and bable that CHRIST was one that was sadd and of a ma­lancolye nature, & that he hath prouoked vs vnto an vnplea­saunt kynde of lyfe, for onely he did shewe a kind of liuing most godly and fullest of al true pleasure, if we might haue the stone of Tantalus taken awaye from vs.

What darke saiyng is this?

It is a mery tale too laugh at, but this bourd in duceth verye graue and sadde thynges.

I tary too heare [Page] this mery conceite, that you na­me too bee so sage a matter.

Thei whiche gaue their studye and diligence to colour and set­furth the preceptes of Philoso­phie wyth subtil fables, declare y^t there was one Tantalus brou­ghte vnto the table of the god­des, whych was euer furnished wyth all good fare, and most nete and sumptuous that my­ght bee, whan thys straunger shoulde take hys leaue, Iupy­ter thought it was for his great liberalitie and highe renoume, that his guest shuld not depart wythout some rewarde, he wyl­led him therfore too aske what he woulde, and he shoulde haue it: Tantalusꝰ (forsooth) lyke a ve­rye leude and foolyshe person, [Page] for that he sette all the felicitie and pleasure of man in the de­lectation of the bely, and gloto­nye, desired but only too sytte at suche a table all the dayes of hys life, Iupiter graunted him his desire, and shortly his vow was there stablished and rati­fyed. Tantalus nowe sytteth at the table furnyshed wyth all kindes of delicates, such drinke as the goddes druncke of was set on the table, and there wan­ted no rooses nor odours that could yeoue any swete smel be­fore the Goddes, Ganymedes the buttler or one lyke vnto hym, standeth euer redye, the Muses stande rounde aboute syngyng pleasauntly, mery Silenus daun­seth, ne [...]ther wanted noo fooles [Page] too laugh at, and breuely, there there was euerye thynge that coulde delyght any sence of mā but emongist all these, Tantalus sytteth all sadde, syghyng, and vnquiet with hym selfe, neither laughing nor yet touching such thynges as were set before hym

What was the cause?

Ouer his head as he sate there hāged by an hecre a great stone euer lyke too fall.

I woulde then haue conueied my selfe from suche a table.

But his vowe had bound hym too the contrarye, for Iupyter is not so easye too intreate as oure GOD, which dooeth vn­loose the pernitious vowes of menne, that bee made contrary vnto his holy woord, if thei bee [Page] penitent and sorye therfore, or elles it myght bee thus, the sa­me stoone that woulde not suf­fer hym too eate, would neither suffer hym to ryse, for if he had but ones moued he shuld haue been quashed al in peeses with the fall thereof.

You haue shewed a very mery fable

But nowe heare that thing, which you wil not laugh at: the commune people seeke too haue a pleasaunt life in out warde thynges, where as noo­thyng can yeoue that, but one­ly a constant and a quiet mind: for surely a far heuier stone hangeth ouer these y^t grudge with them selues, then hanged ouer Tantalus: it only hangeth not ouer them, but greueth and op­presseth [Page] the mynde, ne the mind is not troubled wyth any vayn hoope, but looketh euery houre to bee caste in too the paynes of hell, I praye you what can bee so pleasaunt emongist all thin­ges that bee yeouen vnto man, that coulde reioyse the mynde, whyche were oppressed wyth suche a stoone?

Truely there is nothyng but madnes, or elles incredulitie.

Yf younge menne woulde weygh these thynges, that bee quyckly prouoked and entised with pleasure as it were wyth the cuppe of Circes, whiche in steade of theyr greatest pleasures recei­ue poysone myxte wyth honye. Howe circumspecte would they bee too doo anye thynge vnad­uisedly [Page] y^t shoulde grudge their mindes afterward? What thinge is it that thei would not doo too haue suche a godly treasure in store against their latter dai­es? that is a minde knowyng it selfe cleane & honest and a name that hath not been defiled at a­ny time. But what thyng now is more miserable then is agee? Whan it beholdeth, and loketh backward on thinges y^t be past seeth plainly with great grudg of conscience howe fayre thyn­ges he hathe despiced and sette lyght by, (that is, howe farre he hath discented and gone astray from the promyses made vnto God in baptime) & agayn, how foule & noughty thīges he hath clipped and enbraced, and whā [Page] hee looketh forwarde, hee seeth then the daye of iudgemente drawe neere, and shortely after the eternall punyshemente of of hell.

I esteme theim most happie whych haue neuer defyled theyr youthe, but euer haue increased in vertu, til thei haue coomne vnto the last pu­incte of age.

Next them thei ar too bee commended that haue wythdrawne theim selues from the folie of youth in tyme.

But what councel wil you yeoue agee that is in suche great myserie.

No man shoulde dispayre so long as life endureth, I wyl exhorte him to flee for helpe vnto the infinitie mercye & gentilnes of God.

But the longer y^t he hath liued [Page] the heape of his synnes hath e­uer waxen greate and greater, so that nowe it passeth the nom­ber of the sandes in the sea,

But the mercies of our lord far excede those sādes, for although the sande can not bee numbred of manne, yet hit hath an ende, but the mercie of God neither knoweth ende, ne measure.

Yea but he hath no space that shall dye by and by,

The lesse tyme he hath the more feruētly he should cal vnto god for grace, that thyng is long inough before God, whiche is of suche power as too ascende from the yearth vnto heauē, for a short prayer forsoth streght entreth heauē, if it bee made with a vehemēt spirit. It is written, y^e [...] [Page] y^e womā synner spoken of in the gospell did penaunce al her life dayes: but with how fewe wor­des again did the thief obtain Paradise in the houre of death? If he will crye with hearte and mynde, God haue mercie on me after thy great mercie: God wil take awaye from hym Tantalus stone and yeoue in his hea­ryng ioye and cōfort and his bones hu­miled throughe cōtrition, wil reioyse that he hath his synnes for yeouen hym.