Treatise of Charitie.

I Am wel mynded to stycke to my pro­messe,Haec est e [...] nim char [...]tas del, v [...] precepta eius serue [...]mus. 1. 10. 5. of charitie, by cause you can not mislike my writing how rudely so euer I write, onles you diminishe your owne charitie. For charitie taketh all thinges in good worth, and consydereth more the good will of the workeman, then the beautie of the worke. Herevpon I am bolded to shewe my mynde in fewe woordes, what is charitie and how we maie kepe charitie. A saiyng muche v­sed with euery man and woman, but not so well perceyued, as it is commonlye spoken. Spekers of cha [...]tie be plentie, kepers of cha­ritie be veraie scase, althoughe you wold make serche through out all religious cloisters. To be without [Page] malice and hate is not inough, yet veraie fewe be founde so clere: nor it is not inough to loue in a slyght or a common, or in a meane wyse. If you kepe in you, Charitie, ye bespotles of al grudges, and ther­with ye loue in the moste hyghest degree of louyng bothe god and man, god for hym selfe, and man for goddis sake.

But here nowe me thynketh, we be to sodeinly entred with a skyp to the myddes of this mater: let vs make some conuenient beginning, and therafter lette vs procede.

For both you shall with the more ease gather the fruite of this les­son, and I shall the better se what is taught, if the sentences be [...]yde in their due ordre.

And for as muche good sister, as this thynge that we here take in [Page 3] hande to treate of, is all holy, all godly, all heauenly, farre passyng the relyques of sayntes, farre pas­syng the halowed chalices. Lette vs, I praie you, beware of pre­sumpcyon,Be were of presum­cion. to touche this mattier with foule fingers. It is our part to wasshe oure handes cleane, I meane, as the matter is spirituall, so our spirite muste be prepared in a due reuerence, accordyng to the highe dignitie of this vertue. the water that clenseth our spirite and mynde, is mekenes.Mekenes [...] Here with I saie we must prepare vs, both you to here, and I to speke of holy cha­ritie: bycause Christe saieth,Matt [...] that in charitie is conteined all the law of god: And goddis lawe dothe chiefely enforce .ii. thynges, one to make vs, by thretening of peynes, to flee from syn: an other, to cause [Page] vs, promisynge of ioyes to fo­lowe vertue.What charitie cau­seth. It muste nedes then be true, that Charitie maketh men do bothe these thinges, to forsake synne, and to embrace vertue.

This is to saie, by Charitie we re­fuse euyll, and take good, by cha­ritie we flee doyng naughtly, and cleaue to doyng well, by Charitie we escape disprayse, and deserue prayse, by charitie we duly bothe feare and loue god, finally by cha­ritie, we be ryd from the bondage of our ennemy the prynce of this worlde, and be franke in the liber­tie of goddis kyngdome.

¶In this speakynge of charitie, there semeth to be an other strēgth in the worde, than comenly we vn­derstande in our englyshe tonge: and surely the trouthe is soo, that farre aboue our cōmen vnderstan­dynge, [Page 4] this worde signifiethe the hole perfection of a christen man:Charitie is the ho [...]e perfection of a chry [...]sten man. It is a worde borowed with vs of the latyne called Charitas. If you nowe will considre, what is the fountayne lyfe and soule of mans vertue, the spacing and rote of all his good workes: you shall see, that it is only the true loue of god.

For who so euer hath his mynde inwardly ameled, bakē, & through fyred with the loue of god: he is the blessed man, that kepeth god­dis worde, that fulfylleth all god­dis lawe, that neuer willethe do­yng euyll, and euer willeth doyng well, in the perfecie forme, facion, shappe, and kynde of well doyng.

This loue of god, that causethe suche perfections in man, [...] is cal­led Charitie. But remembre, it maie not bee taken in the weake [Page] common maner: for all they haue not this charitie, that saie thei loue God: Nor all they loue not God, that so say. We be not as our sey­yng soundethe, but as god seeth our thoughtes, so we be [...] None of vs loueth god, that enforcethe to wyll any thyng besydes goddys wyll. He loueth not god perfetly, that thynkethe any thyng besyde god: he loueth not god perfitely, that dothe any thing without god. The perfecte loue of god can not stande with any care or studye for this lyfe: the perfyte loue of god abydethe not the couplyng with any other loue: the perfect loue of god knoweth none affectiō to kin­red, it knoweth no difference be­twene poore and ryche, it knoweth not what meneth myne and thyne [...] it [...]anne not diuyde a foo frome a [Page 5] frende. For he that truely and per­fectly loueth god, muste loue god alone, nothynge besyde god, nor with god: but loue all indifferent­ly in god and for god.

We that saie, we loue god, when we scant ones in a daie remembre god, and yet neuer remembre we God in suche a maner, but that more often and more ernestly we remembre other thynges, in sai­yng we loue god, and doyng thus, we can not proue true that we saie. For the perfecte louer of god is so wedded togod, that [...]his thought nothyng abydeth, but the quycke remembraunce of god. Our spiri­tes and senses be occupied with so many other matters, that scante we haue leiser to thynke on god, so farre we be from this charitie: the whiche I saie, is a vertue of that [Page] dignitie, power, and maiestee, that by it selfe, it conteineth all the pre­ceptes of the patriarkes, all the la­wes of the prophetes, all the doc­trine of Christe, all the rules of the apostels, all the inuencions of the holy churche: ye more then all this, charitie hath a lybertee of po­wer ouer bothe the olde and the newe testament. For the true lo­uer of god, the whiche is the cha­ritable persone, is vnder no rule: but he is a lorde aboue all lawes, all inuencions, all preceptes, all commaundementes, that god hath gyuen to man. For charitie hathe no bonde.

But alwaie sister remembre, that charitie is not perfecte, oneles that it bee burnyng. It is not a quen­ched loue, a colde loue, a loue gro­winge in the tethe or lyppes, that [Page 6] is charitie: but the hotte feruente burnynge hertes affecte towarde god, is the loue that is vnderstand in the name of charitie, the whiche (as is saied) doth not only contein all the doctrine of Christe, but al­so it is aboue all lawes, to rule ra­ther then to be ruled.

The ende of all the course and walkynge of the sonne of god in this worlde, was to leaue amonge men this Charitie. The marke, wherto our sauiour in all his pre­chyng and teachynge loked, was to haue men indued with charitie. For our diuine maister sawe, that there neded no rehersall of syn [...]es, the whiche were to bee eschewed, nor yet of vertues, that were to be folowed, if man could take cha­ritie, that is by it selfe suffycyent for all, bothe to kepe menne from [Page] stumblyng in the waie, from wan­deryng out of the waie, and final­ly, to conducte men to the blessed wayes ende. Here you se, that the compasse and circuite of charite is large and wyde, in as muche as it comprehendeth all that can be spo­ken, either ageynste vice, or with vertue.

You paraduenture thought, that charitie was nothyng els, but to kepe pacience, and not to be disple­sed nor angry. It is trouthe, this poynt is one parte of charitie: but it is not all. For what so euer the loue of god prouokethe vs to, or the feare of god dryuethe vs from [...] all in one summe is concluded to be vnderstande in charitie.

Whervpon I maie, if you kepe charitie, saie, that you be the very doughter of god, and moste dere [Page 7] syster of Christe. But I feare me, youe haue more ofte spoken the worde charitie, then you haue stu­dyed to learne, what thyng shulde bee Charytie: and therby ye saie paraduenture of your selfe, more then you dooe. For I haue noted your mynde to be somewhat trou­bled with certayne fantasyes, the which could haue no place in you, if you were fylled with this chari­tie. For here a lytell more in fewe wordes, what is the playne defini­cion of this vertue, as I fynde it writen of a greatte holy man, and a common doctour.

Charitie (saiethe he) is a good and a gracious effect of the soule, wherby mans herte hathe no fan­tasie to esteme, valour, or ponder any thynge in this wyde worlde, beside or before the care and study [Page] to knowe god. For who so euer is inclined to loue these erthly thyn­ges, it is not possible for hym euer to attaine, so longe as he so dothe, to the assured constant & perfit vse of this charitie, bycause his mynd hath so many and soo dyuerse let­tes, that hyndre and withdrawe hym from takynge the possessyon of this great treasure, wherin bee touched the heapes of all vertues. And a lyttel now to speake of these impedimentes and lettes, it shall muche appertaine to our purpose: for we shall the quycklyer come to charitie, if we can knowe and es­cape all the blockes, that lye in our waie to lette vs: not onely to lette vs to come to charitie, but to dryue and chase awaie frome vs this vertue, that neither we canne come to it, nor that to vs.

[Page 8]The perfyte loue of godThe per­fite loue of god. hath in it a meruailous quietnes and rest, it is neuer moued, styred, nor cari­ed awaie by no storme of worldly troubles, but sytteth faste and sure in a continuall calmnes, agaynst all wedders, al blastes, al stormes. No rocke is more stylle, then is the mynde of a charitable man, whan the worlde tumbleth, rolleth, and tosseth it with the vomye wawes of temptacions, the whiche drow­neth the myndes of all vs, that be weake or sicke in charitie. I wold therfore syster, that you diligently learned, what be these blastes, that turmoylen our myndes out of the reste, the which charitie requireth.

You shall vnderstand, that there be certain mociōs called passions, that soore assaulte our soule, and bringeth our spiritie to muche vn­quietnes, [Page] as to be moued with an­ger is a great rolling of the mind, to brede enuie, to fede rancour, to nourisshe malice, to be mindeful of any miure, to be studious of auen­gynge, to be greued with yll spea­kynge, to fume at backe byting, to grudge at compleyntes, to frette with chyding, to striue for shame, for sclaunder. These be the thyn­ges, that suffre no mynde reste, a­ny of these passions troublethe the mynde continually from one fan­tasy to an other: so that no quiet­nes can be had.

Agayne, to study for promocion, to care for mariage, to fyshe for ri­ches, to be gredie of honour, to be desirous of fauour, to couette pre­ferremente, to gape for prayses: these also be sharpe spurres, that chasen the mynde, and kepen the [Page 9] mynde euer styrrynge and voyde of quyetnes.

Like wise to ensue a delite of dein­tye and swete fedynge, to be taken with pleasure of the body, to be o­uer throwen with sorowe, to per­che vp with gladnes, to holde vp the chyn to highe in prosperitie, to hold downe the head to low in ad­uertise, to be in bondage vnder the fierse rules of censual luste. Whose crueltie ouer man hath noo pytie, measure, nor ende. These and su­che other be thynges, that so trou­blen & disquieten mans mind, that quiet charitie can not abyde there. For loke a lytell vpon the vnmer­cyfull man, that can not forgyue, see howe he boyleth in his appetite to be auenged. Loke vpon the en­uious stomacke, howe he without reste freteth, in couetyng the syght [Page] of his hurte, whome he spyteth. Looke vppon the glotton, howe beastly he purueyeth bealy cheate, Loke vpon the lecherer, how busy he is in his vngracious though­te. Loke vpon the couetous wret­che, howe withoute reason he scra­peth and shrapeth for gaynes.

Loke vpon the ambicious felowe, howe he besturrethe hym to gette worshyppe. These men throughe theyr corrupte fantasies be no lesse gredie to satisfie their desires, than the hungrye and the thurstye bo­dyes throughe naturall necessitie seke to bee refresshed. Wherof we maie se, that slepyng and wakyng these mens myndes rolle without takyng reste. Suche wrastlynge phantasies, suche inordinate ap­petites be called passions, the whi­che moue and styrre the soule con­trary [Page 10] to his nature, eyther by loue without reason, or by hate without measure, when we wyllyngly con­sente to the wynde of these sensyble thynges.

The mother of all these passions is a parciall loue,Parciall loue. that we beare to our selfe, that is to saie, the loue of th [...]s carcas, and of this lyfe. To kylle in vs this mother to all mys­chefes, our maister Christ teacheth vs to hate this lyfe, and to set our bodies at naught: He saith,Mat. 16. it is the nexte waie to fynde lyfe,Mar. 8. if we sette nothynge by the losse of this life:Luc. 9. he saith,Io 12. the caryng for our bo­dy importeth and bringeth with hit a mystruste of goddes prouidence,Mat. 6. as though [...]od had better,Luc. 12. prouy­ded for the state of byrdes than for man, whome he hath created af­ter his owne image. Nowe then [Page] to gete this reste, that therby we maie gete charitie, we muste caste awaie the loue of this lyfe: the whiche causeth all the saied ruffe­lynge passions, by the whiche our soule standeth in peryll of deathe. For learne you, that to the soule it is a soore deathe, to be seperated frome god. And these passions be they, that onely plucke the soule from god, and causeth the soule to forgete heauen in the busy occu­pacions of this worlde, the whi­che worlde swarmeth full of deed soules, that nyght and daie traue­lyn, and sweatte in the workes of darkenes, from whens they shall departe in to an other darkenesse endles, neuer to se the face of god.

And this is the conclusyon of the passionat soule that lieth in the fetters of fylthye [...]tes without reste [Page 11] drawen nowe hyther nowe thy­ther in a continuall waueryng of vayne fantasies. But on the other syde the quycke lyuyng soule, that quietly resteth in the loue of god, dryueth frome hym by the power of grace, wherwith he is indued, all these vnquiete passions. If he stande in feare to be moued with vncomely appetytes, he fasteth, he watcheth, he laboreth. The man (I saie) or woman dothe this, in whome suche a blessed soule bea­reth rule.

Lyke wise against anger, wrath, and vayne glorie he settethe atte naught bothe honour and dysho­nour: shame, sclaunder, and wor­shyppe in this worlde bee nothyng in his reputacion. Against remem­braunce of displeasures he praieth for his euyll wyllers. Suche a [Page] maner charitie teacheth and cou­rageth this blessed soule to bee oc­cupied in the mainteinyng and de­fendyng the myndes quietnesse,What charitie cau­seth. a thynge aboue all thynges in this worlde to be kepte warely.

The rest that aungels in heauen haue, is none other but this, not to be moued nor sturred with these passions, of louyng, of hating, of beyng pleased, of beyng diseased, of trustyng, of lusting, of abhorring, of couetyng, of refusyng, of reioy­syng, of lamentyng, and of innu­merable such other, that scourgeth and whippeth mans minde by rea­son of the corrupte affection and loue that he beareth in his ytching bodie, a loue mooste contrarye to charitie: the whiche hath as muche ease, as that hath trouble. You shall here a lesson of our mayster [Page 12] Christ, the auctour and preacher of charitie: He aduysethe,Mat. 5. counsai­leth, and commaundeth me,Luc. 6. if I be his disciple, not to resist ageinst euill, to offre my lefte cheke to him that hathe bee blowed me on the righte, to leaue my gowne to hym that hath taken from me my cote, to walke two miles with hym that hath vexed me, and compelled me to walke one myle.

The forme of this lesson that Christe here gyueth, is to enstructe and warne all christen men, to re­garde nothynge of the bodye or of the worlde, aboue the rest and qui­etnesse of the mynde: but that we shoulde suffre the losse of our goo­des, with the hurte, ye with the deathe of our bodies rather then we shulde lose any smalle porcion of charitie, to bee moued with any [Page] passion of minde, wherby our loue towarde god, myght decaie.

It is not possible, after Christes doctrine, to take in this worlde by any kynde of vyolence soo greatte domage or hurte in bodye or goo­des, as is the least drope of trou­ble in the mynde, where no tyrant, nor the deuyll hym selfe hath any dominion. For there onely ruleth our owne free wyll: soo that if we will disordre our mynde with any passion, we be to our selfe more vi­olente and cruell, than the deuyll can be. Wherfore my good syster, let vs beleue our maister Christe, and to the deathe, lette vs neuer breake peace with god. For if we do, fare well all reste. We breake peace with god, when we tourne vs for any cause to the care of this lyfe.

[Page 13]If you fele your selfe inordynat­ly moued with displeasante woor­des, with angry countenaunces, with euyll reportes, with dysprai­ses, with rebukes, with fals sclan­der, with vntrue complaintes: be­ware syster, for surely you be not in charitie with god. If you mum­ble vpon coniectours, if you fede vpon suspicions, if you gnawe v­pon shrewde tales, if you delyte to gyue taunte for taunte: beware a­gayne good syster, for withoute doubte, god and you betwayne.

And if you beleue the sonne of god your selfe with your owne will, do more then any fierce prynce ouer you coulde dooe, all thoughe he brought you to extreme wretched­nes, and at the laste to the deathe tourmented your body. It is with out comparison worse to bee sette [Page] with these passions, than it is to suffre the panges of death. But at this pointe peraduenture you will saie and aske me: whether we shuld forsake al the commodities of this worlde: whether we shulde make no force to gette suche thynges, as kepeth vp the welthe of our bodie: whether we shulde vtterly refuse all thynges ordeyned for this lyfe: whether we shoulde be cleane care­les of good name? No no, syster not soo. Holly scripture forbea­deth vs nothynge, that is for vse or profyte: as by Chrystes lawe it is not forbyd to eate, to drynke, to haue and gette, wherwith su­che sustinaunce maie bee maintey­ned, to gette chyldren, to haue mo­ney, to haue possessions, to bee in honour, to bee regarded: but the worde of god suffrethe not glotto­ny, [Page 14] and a delyte in the belye cheare, nor lechery, and an vnlauful plea­sure in bodylye lustes: nor coue­tousnesse, nor a gredye desyre to be ryche: not vaynglory and a proude desyre to be magnified. Lykewise the commaundemente of god for­beadeth vs not the thynkynge of these and of suche other thynges: but it is playne contrarye to the wylle of god, that we shoulde with any great intencion, solicitude, or carefulnesse of mynde, prosecute these bodyly necessities. And in the hauynge of the goodes, pro­mocions, and honours, we maie not iudge to be any hygher at all, then is to haue thynges for mans necessitie: So that towarde theim we maie not beare any maner of loue or affection, but only we must with suche a mynde take theym to [Page] help forthe this lyfe, as the craftes men take the instrumentes and toles to helpe theyr handye woor­kes, that in the hauynge of ry­ches our mynde considre nothyng, but a plentie of thynges appertei­nyng to our vse and necessytyes. And thus we maie bothe for our selfe and for our neyghbours be­thynke vs well, howe we shall lyue: but it maie be noo care nor yet any erneste studye, least ther­by our charitie with god be dimy­nysshed. For holde faste my syster in your remembrance, that to haue and kepe charitie with god,To kepe Charitie with god. is to loue God with your holle herte, with your hole mynde, with your hole power. If any smalle parte of your herte, or of your mynde, or of your wit, be bestowed in any affection or loue towarde this life: [Page 15] ye mynishe the perfection of your charitie with god, the which requi­reth of you all and hole, to be with­oute a felowe by hym selfe alone loued.

You maie right well syster putte youre mynde and witte to gette these thynges that mainteyne this lyfe, but it muste be done without all loue and affection: there maie bee no parte of loue spente in suche matters, for your mynde can not with any loue and affect labour to get and to holde this worldly com­modities, but in the meane season your charitie with god is greatly decayed and welnyghe broken.

Also you betray your selfe, to my­struste the promission of god, with the whiche mistruste god is moste displeased. For there be three cau­ses noted, that shulde chiefly moue [Page] mens mindes to desyre these worl­delye goodes:Three mo­cions to desyre worldly goodes. One is the loue of welthe, case, myrthe, and pleasure: An other loue of worshyppe, ho­nour, and glorye: the thyrde the doubtefulnes and mystruste of ly­uyng here, the whiche mystrust I saie, is worste of all, and muche more to bee blamed then the other two. For a felowe set to his plea­sure, loueth money to serue hym to make merie, and to make therwith good cheare: the other sette vpon honour loueth the present goodes, bycause by theim he wolde bee re­garded. Bothe these men spende as faste as they gette, and smalle stoore they putte in the vylenes of money: but he that vpon mystrust seketh goodes, loueth then to hyde them to kepe theim as well frome hym selfe as from other, beyng e­uer [Page 16] in feare, either of famine, scarcenes, or of olde age, or of syckenes, or of tribulacions: and muche bet­ter confidence and trust he putteth in his owne policy and prouysion, then he dothe in the goodnesse of god, that made all, and that nou­ryssheth vs all, not leauynge the smalleste gnatte, the leaste worme or flye withoute dyspensacion to haue conuement sust [...]naunce: and of man he clerely is myndefull, yet man can not truste hym. Wher­fore the loue of this worlde vppon a mystruste of lyuynge, is a thyng in the syght of god mooste detesta­ble. Thus I saie we maie vse this worlde, but we maie not abuse hit, whan for the world we breake cha­ritie with god. And if our herte be not hollye gyuen to loue god, we haue not god with perfyte chari­tie: [Page] god hath not our holle herte, if the worlde haue any parte.

This is the waie to come to per­fitte Charitie,The waie to comme to perfytte Charitie. to kepe our hert, our soule, our minde, our witte all hole for god: the whiche kepyng of our herte and mynde holle, is the reste and quietnes of the soule from the saied temptacions and passions. And this is the dry [...]yng awaie of the lettes and impedimentes to at­taine charitie, wherof nowe here a lyttell more.

This perfecte loue of god, ma­keth, as we haue saied, the mynde stronge to withstand the thursting and shulderyng of synne: and the same bringeth forthe consequently the ioyfull rest and quietnes from the forsaied passions: whiche the corrupte loue of this lyfe bredeth. So that this calmnes of mynde [Page 17] is a certaine effecte and worke of charitie. And hope in godHope in god. maketh vs fyrmely to awayte for the ful­fyllyng of the promesse of god in vs, and to vs: which hope is goten by pacience, that is constante en­durynge of aduersitie, the whiche paciente endurynge is purchased with abstinence, that is a stronge resistyng against euyll enticemen­tes. And feare of godFeare of god. causeth cou­rage to flie and to absteine from e­uill, the whiche feare of god grow­eth of an vndoubted belefe in our maister Christes teachyng. Thus from faith we come to feare, from feare to fleyng of synne, and in fle­ynge of synne, we take a paciente mynde to suffre, wherby we take hope and trust in god, through the which Hope our soule sytteth in a sure chaire of a certain expectacion [Page] of that whiche is laide vp in stor [...] for vs in heauen: And therof final­ly cometh in vs this charitie, whi­che causeth vs to loue god for his infinite goodnes in the same pro­messe makyng, whereof nowe we wayte for the fulfyllyng: the whi­che is also the thing that inforceth and ordereth all oure thoughtes, in suche a dewe rule, that our life thereby rendrethe in all his actes a swete sauour bothe to god and to man. But agayne let vs ones repete the effect of this lesson: who so euer beleuethBeleue in Chryste. our maister, he feareth his punysshement, and he that feareth to be punyshed of Chryste, refrayneth hym self [...]rom sensuall lustes, the whiche be the causes of punysshmente: he that kepeth of suche causes, abydeth wel and suf­freth tribulacion: he that pacient­ly [Page 18] suffreth tribulacion, hath a bles­sed hope and truste in god, the whi­che drawethe and pluckethe the mind from worldly affections: and the mynde ones frely discharged of all loue to this worlde, streighte taketh the pure burnynge charitie towarde god, and that makethe quietnes rest and peace in our con­science. Thus euery waie we must resolue ourselfe to reste finally in the possession of charitie, or elles we neither canne beleue nor feare Chryste, as we oughte to doo, nor refraine euyll lustes, as we oughte to dooe, nor suffre tribulacions as we ought to dooe: nor hope in god as we oughte to dooe, nor leaue the loue of these worldely dregges as we oughte to dooe: but in the fame we shall bee drowned boothe [...]yght and daie durynge the space [Page] [...] without interrupcion of any lette in this worlde. And touchyng cha­ritie in god the which is vtterly to for sake al loue of this worlde, that thereby we maie cleane bee rydde from all passions to loue and ho­nour god alone, lette this that we haue hetherto spoken be inoughe.

Nowe a lyttell harken, what is this saiyng, to haue and kepe cha­ritie.What is to kepe charitie. Truely hit is to deryue and to take out from our loue in god, an other loue towardes man for god. For he that hath perfect cha­ritie in god, loueth for goddes sake all men as hym selfe, by cause in man he knowethe is the image of god, the whiche image of god, the charitable herte embraceth indiffe­rently in the holle kynde of man, withoute makynge excepcyon of frende and no frende, of well wyl­lers [Page 20] and ennemies, of kynsfolke and strangers: but as the fygure of god is equalle in all, soo he e­qually fauoureth all. For though with obstynate synners and with men wedded to theyr passions he bee displeased, yet his dyspleasure becometh hym as a louer that so­ [...]oweth his frendes hurte. Wher­fore if he bee a synner amended or conuerted, he is fulle of gladnes, and neuer cessethe he laiynge his waite and watche to do man good so that by his charitie toward man for goddes sake, he continuallye myndeth man well: and therof he neuer slaketh. In vysytynge the sycke, in clothyng the naked, in fe­dyng the hungrye, in refreshynge the poore, in comfortyng the mise­rable, in praying for synfull, in all workes of mercie, pitie, and deuo­cion, [Page] he laboureth with pleasure, by reason of his fast loue towarde god. He freely and gladlye forgy­ueth all maner displeasures, of in­iuries, of rebukes, of hurtes, and so depe he is in his loue, that nothing can cause hym to hate. For it is a true saiyng, that who soo euer fe­lith in his herte any poynte of ha­tred, for any maner of cause, a­gainst any maner a man, this per­son maie be assured, that he is not in charitie with god. For our mai­ster Christ saith:lo. 14. c [...]. 15. He that loueth me kepeth my commaundement: my commandement is, that one of you loue an other. Wherfore he that loueth not his neyghbour (euerye man is neyghboure vnto other, dwellyng in the smalle compasse of this erthe) kepeth not our mai­sters commaundemente: and he [Page 21] that kepeth not the commaunde­ment, can not loue oure mayster Christe, whom he that loueth not: loueth not god. Wherfore he that loueth not his neyghbour, halteth in his Charitie towardes God.

Thus we maie see, that charitie in god teacheth what is to be done of vs towarde man, and euer we be assured to worke wel, if we kepe in vs this holy charitie: the whi­che onely can kepe and knowethe the waye howe to kepe goddes worde. It is our maister Christe,Mat. 5. that byddethe vs loue oure enne­mies, to dooe well with theim that haten vs, to praye for theym that persecute vs. Chryste thus com­mandeth vs, to thentent he wolde clense and rydde vs from hatred, from doyng iniuries, from beyng myndefull of displeasures, to haue [Page] vs pure from hate, rancour, angre and grudging: he commandeth vs to loue without excepcion as well our foo, as our frende. He wolde haue vs of our charitie in god, to loue man after the ensaumple of god, the which wolde haue all men indifferently to be saued and come to the lyghte of trouthe, lyke as his sonne shynethe ouer the good and euylle, his rayne fallethe as well vpon the vniust, as vpon the iuste:Ibidem. so wolde Christe haue vs in­differentely sprede our affections to all men, after the free lyberalle distribucion of charitie. For and if you be in this case, that some per­sones ye loue, some you hate, some you nother loue nor hate, somme you loue so so, in a meane facion, somme you loue veraie ernestly: by this inequalitie of louyng learne, [Page 22] that you be fare from perfecte cha­ritie with god, the whiche perfecte charitie indifferentely louethe all men for goddes sake, the good sort of men as his dere frendes, the e­uyll sorte, as theim of whome maie be made dere frendes. In charitie is no knowladge of any difference betwene ryche and poore, betwene maister and seruant, betwene bond and free, betwene faithfull and vn­true, betwene male and female, be­twene kinne and no kinne: the cha­ritable spirite lokethe vpon mans symple nature, the whiche in all men is lyke and one thyng: wher­of he conceiueth in his mynde one indifferente contemplacion of all, and at all seasons he is well myn­ded, euer well dysposed to doo all men good with whome is neyther englyshe, nor scottisshe, aquayn­taunce [Page] nor straunger: but with hym one is all and in all, Chryste Iesus alone, whome and whose crosse he knoweth, and nothynge elles.

Thus by our Charitie with god we learne, what is our dueitie to­warde man. But here in louynge your neyghbours and bretherne, loke you deceiue not your selfe, for hit is not inoughe to loue youre neyghbour, but ye muste in the or­dre and rule of charitie loue hym, that is onelye or chyefely, to loue hym for goddes sake. There bee fyue waies noted of louynge one of vs an other, of the whiche num­bre one waie is praised, thre be vt­terly dispraysed, and one neyther praysed nor dispraised. Fyrste I maie loue my neyghbour for god­dis sake, as euery good vertuous [Page 23] man loueth euery man. Seconde I maie loue my neyghbour of a naturall affection, bycause he is my sonne, or brother, or kynsman. Thirdly I maie loue for vainglo­rye, as if I loke by my neyghbour to be worshypped or aduaunced to honour. Fourthly I maie loue for couetousnes, as whan I cheryshe and flatter a ryche manne for his goodes, whan I make muche of them that haue done me pleasures, and may do me mo. The fifte waie, I maie loue for my sensuall luste, as when I loue to fare delicately, or elles when I madde or dote vp­pon women.

The fyrst waie to loue my neigh­bour, for the loue I beare to god,Fyue ma­ner of loues. is onely worthy to bee praysed.

The seconde waie naturally deser­ueth neyther praise nor dispraise. [Page] The thyrde, the fourthe, and the fyfte to loue for glory, aduantage, or plesure all thre be stark naught.

Therfore syster, oute with your loue, and consydre welle, in what waie your herte is gyuen to loue pour neyghbour. Charitie hath but one way of louing a man truly an well, that is onely for goddes sake.

To conclude nowe this mattier, the whiche of him selfe is in sight, lette vs knytte vppe charitie with this generall knotte, that man is made absolute and perfecte in all vertues, through this one vertue of Charitie. But whan I saie all vertues, loke that you vnderstand what is ment in the name of ver­tue: or elles this generalle clause maie deceyue you. Wherfore you must learne, that the body hath his [Page 24] propre vertues, and the soule lyke wyse hath his owne aparte frome the other. The vertues of the bo­dieUertues of the bo­dye. bee, as to faste, to watche, to goo on pylgremage, to trauaille with hande and fote, for to helpe theyr neyghbours, to distribute your goodes in almes dedes, to buylde vp churches, wherein the people maie here the worde of god, and come together to praier, to pu­nyshe the fleshe with roughe heer, to slepe vpon the harde grounde, to socour the nedy, to ayde the mi­serable, and other suche actes bodi­lye men dooe for the loue and ho­nour of god. The vertues of the souleUertues of the soule. be of a nother sorte, as meke­nes, pacience, abstinence, hope, faithe, charitie, pitye, mercy, and other lyke. Nowe if it so bee, that of some infirmitee I can not faste, [Page] nor watche, for lacke of money I can not do any almes, for lacke of bodily strengthe, I canne not tra­ueyle, if suche necessarie and true consideracions make vs wante the vertues of the bodie, we bee with­out blame, and had excused before god, the whiche beholdethe the se­crete and priuie cause of oure de­faulte. But in the vertues of our soule, we haue no maner of defence, if it bee soo that we lacke any of theim. For they haue noo necessi­tie, nor constraynte of any thyng, but all be frely vnder the election and choyce of oure free will. And whan it is generally said, that charitie maketh a man absolute and perfecte in all vertues, ye must vn­derstande in all the vertues of the soule, the whiche be very vertues, to speake and to name the truthe.

[Page 25]Whereby the bodye can haue of hym selfe no vertue, nor nothyng can be done of the bodie worthy of praise, onles the acte bee coupled and ioyned with the vertues of the mynde. But contrarye, the soule is perfecte in his vertues without all assistence and helpe of the body.

Then boldelye we maie saie, that from charitie cometh all vertues, and none other worke there is of charitie, than to make and bringe forth in vs vertue. It is holy scrip­tures testimony, that charitie can not bee ydle. Alwaie than a chari­table spirite is doyng, and what so euer he dothe, hit muste nedes bee a good worke. For what can come frome the loue of god, but it shall sauer and smelle of god? the whi­che sauour is this onelye thynge, that geuethe to mans acte all th [...] [Page] goodnes.

Nowe then my entierly beloued syster, to obserue and keepe this mooste precious and mooste holy charitie with god, you shall in fewe woordes haue a shorte rule. The beste waie to kepe you frome fal­lynge out of charitie with god, is neuer to suffre your christen neigh­bour to slepe in a displeasure with you, and agayne that you neuer slepe in a dyspleasure with your chrysten neyghbour. Remembre, we all be knytte in a faste kynrede vnder one father in heuen, the whi­che commaundethe vs to loue to­gether as bretherne and systerne, without regarde of hyghe or lowe, poore or ryche, whether your neighbour be in defaulte, or you, this is to saie: whether he bee dyspleased with you, or you with hym, make [Page 26] thereof noo question, care not for the begynnyng of wrathe, but stu­dye euer for the ayde, and inconti­nently folowe alwaie the counsaill of our mooste charitable mayster Christe: labour alwaie to make a­gremente, that at all seasons you maie be redye to offre vppe to god your swete smellyng sacrifice, the whiche is in goddis sence the delec­table sauer of a charitable brethe [...] whose strength is so mighty in his pleasaunte sente, that hit hath his place amonge the incomparable sauours of heuen, where god with all his sainctes and aungels smel­leth it.

Dooe you beare awaie syster the shorte lesson, that I haue gyuen to you? SVSTER. Whiche shorte lesson meane you brother? for partely in writynge, partely in [Page] communicacion I haue hadde ma­nye lessons of you: of the whiche some I beare well awaie, as yet it is out of my mynde, howe you haue proued to me, that a foole shoulde not lyue solitarye, that I muste forgette displeasures, if I forgyue theym, that I should e­uer enclyne and obey more to rea­son, then to any intreatie. BRO­THER. It is welle good syster that you haue of these thynges re­membrance, but I thought not to aske you this: I wolde you reher­sed to me, what you haue by me learned of Charitie. SVS. Why brother, call ye that the shorte les­son when it conteyneth soo manye lynes, that it weryed me thre daies to rede them ouer? BRO. I thinke well, that you were weryed, more peraduenture with my vnfauerye [Page 27] tellyng, than with the length of the tale. For surely the tale was but short. SIS. If that be a short tale, I confesse to you brother, that I can not tel what is short and what is longe. For to me your lesson of charitie semed veraie long. BRO. It is not syster the numbre of wor­des or of lynes, that maketh a tale or a boke to bee called longe or shorte: But the mattier that is in­treated maketh bothe: soo that of some mattier you maie in veraie fewe woordes here a veraie longe tale, and againe of some mattier a greatte heape of wordes maketh but a shorte tale. Lyke as we saie of tyme, that it is but a lyttel while ago, sins Fraunce was vnder our rule, and that paper, printynge of bokes, and gunnes, bee thyn­ges inuented within fewe yeres, [Page] and that the .iiii. orders of fryers beganne in christendome within a lyttell time past: yet in eche of these foresaied saiynges, we vnderstand more than a hundred yeres. Con­trarie wyse ye wyll saie, that my la­die princes hath lyen a great while atte Eltham, and yet her grace hath not lien there one yere. Soo you wyll saie, that it is a long sea­son syns you and I were togyther: and yet I was with you within this moneth. Whan you knocke at a dore, and tarye one houre, you saie you haue veraie longe taryed there. Thus you maie see, it is the dignitie and the worthynes of the thynge, that causeth the tyme to be named longe or shorte, and not the tyme of his owne space.

In this maner it is in your lesson of charitie, the whiche is a mat­ter [Page 28] so plentiful, so copious, so long, so large, so depe, so hyghe, that no tale therof can be called longe, on­les the teller tryfle in vayne woor­des, and then you maie saie this tale is longe, bicause he telleth and sheweth his folysshenes: but spe­kyng dyrectly of charitie, he neuer can saie to muche. For whan we haue saied all that we can, yet shal the matter of charitie lye in heapes infinite to be spoken more of. For syster, what tongue or penne of man can make an ende in tellynge the smallest porcion of goddis sub­staunce? This charitie is god, and God is this Charitie.1. [...]o. 4. Therfore thynke not youre lesson longe of charitie. For all that I haue saied, is in effecte nothynge. SIS. You haue somewhat made me knowe, what is a longe tale and what is a [Page] shorte: but yet brother, bycause the common prouerbe is trewe, that womens wittes in dede bee shorte, I praie you, if it bee possible, lette my lesson be rehersed in fewe wor­des. BRO. It is a thyng syster, sone done, to comprehend in a fewe lines all that you haue hard of me. For the summe of the hole is: This charitie contaynethe all the lawes of god, and teacheth vs our duetie bothe towarde God and man: the whiche charitie requirethe a quiete spirite, and noo spirite is quyete, that is subiecte to any passion.

Wherfore to haue charitie we must chase from vs all passions to reste so in our loue of god, that nothing withdrawe vs nor plucke vs inor­dinately to any thoughte bee syde god: wherof shoulde folowe that in this worlde, we woulde reken [Page 29] laughynge to bee wepyng, sorowe to bee myrthe, ryches to be pouer­tie, miserie, to be welth, wisedome to be foly, honour to bee shame, so depely we shulde be buryed in god that to this lyfe our senses shoulde lye deed, and quicke onelye in the loue of god: from the whiche true and entier loue of god, we shoulde take a loue with all hertes affecte to the hole kynde of man, in whom beholde spiritually the ymage of god: For the whiche image sake we shulde beare no lesse fauour to man than were sufficient to resiste and vtterly vanquysshe all hate, without the remembraunce of any grudge to be taken with any ma­ner of occasion, to be euer with all men ioyned in herte throughe our loue in god, as fast as kynred ioy­neth a fewe persons throughe a na­turall [Page] loue: yea faster knytiethe mens hertes togythers charitie, than nature can dooe.

This is the some of our lesson si­ster. The whiche you shall haue againe made shorte, if you wyll. SIS. Nay brother, I praie you let this be no shorter. For in my mind it is all redye somewhat to shorte. For I wolde desyre you to lette me in order to aske you a repeticion of myne olde lesson, that I maie in a shorte forme learne, what was fyrste, what was seconde, and soo forthe to the conclusion of youre tale. BRO. I do not yet well per­ceyue, what you woulde haue me do [...] but aske me what you wyl, and I shall therto make answere. SIS. Then brother telle me, what was the fyrste poynt, that you tolde me of Charitie. BRO. Fyrste I she­wed [Page 30] to you the significacion of the worde, that charitie was not one­ly taken for peace, [...] this ryse. pacience, mercy, and pitye, as in our englyshe tong commenly we vse it for nothynge elles, as whan I saie I wyll not breake charitie, I wyll kepe cha­ritie, I wyll forgyue hym for cha­ritie: trouth it is that charitie signifieth all these, and as I shewed to you, muche more: for the woorde in the same, that is in latine called Charitas, the whiche signifiethe an ordynate loue, and a due rule to­warde god and man, the whiche ordinate loue the soule hath, whan he holly with all his power is wed­ded to god: so that besyde, he ney­ther wyllethe nor desyrethe anye thyng. By the whiche feruent loue in god, he exerciseth amonge men all the kinde of vertue. And thus [Page] was the fyrst thyng syster, to haue you to knowe, what the woorde of charitie sygnifieth. SISTER.

Me thought brother, that fyrst of all you shewed, that charitie con­teyneth all goddes lawes. BRO. I dyd in dede, to brynge you to the syght of the greatte compasse, that was in the name of Charitie. wherby you might the better lerne that in englysshe tongue we con­ceyue but a lyttell porcion of this infinite vertue, whan we commen­ly speake therof. But howe soo euer I begonne, the fyrste poynte of youre lesson was to learne the strengthe of charities name. SIS. I wold nowe aske you the second, if it cam not in my minde to doubt, whether charitie and loue bee not all one, as in communycacion I haue harde some clerkes saie they [Page 31] be. BRO. I thinke well some cler­kes wyll so saie. For I note in the last englishe translacion of the gos­pels out of latine, the translatour alwaie for Charitas writeth Loue: wherin I can not consent with him For after mine opinion there is as muche difference betwene loue and charity, as it is in your occupacion betwene threde and twined threde. For you will saie, that all twined threde is threde, but all threde is not twined threde: So this worde Loue is more commen and more general then is charitie. For trouth it is, that all Charitie is loue: but it is not trouthe, that all loue is charitie. In greke charitie is a­gape, and loue, is eros, as in latine loue is amor, and charitie is Cha­ritas. In all these thre tonges there is the same difference in the tone [Page] woorde frome the tother, that is a penne and a quylle. All our pen­nes for the moste parte be quylles: but all our quylles be not pennes: The quylle is that remaineth in his nature, without any other fa­cion or forme put to it: the penne is a quille shaped, and formed, and made apte to write. Lyke wise loue is the common affecte of fauoure: charitie is loue reduced in to a due order towardes god and man, as to loue god alone for him selfe, and to loue man for goddes sake. Do you perceyue syster what I saye?

SVS. Me thynketh brother, that you meane as I woulde saie, that betwene charitie and loue is a like difference, as is betwene my per­les and wiers. For I see that my pierles bee wiers, but they haue a facion by my labour putte to, the [Page 32] whiche facion wyers haue not.

And here maie I saie as you saied of Charitie and Loue, that al pier­les be wyers but all wyers, be not pierles: But brother, if all chari­tie be loue, what defaulte put you in the translatour, the whiche wri­teth loue for Charitas. BROTHER.

The same defaulte I put in hym, that you wold put in one, the whi­che doth giue to you wiers for pier­les, or quyls for pennes. But sister remembre, you wolde haue me bee shorte. SIS. It is trouthe brother: but the beste shortenesse is to bee playne. For whan I vnderstande my lesson, I canne soone make hit shorte. Nowe thenne if you wyll, I praie you telle me the secounde poynte.

BRO. The seconde was to shewe you, that charitie could not be had [Page] without the assured myndes quy­etnes, as an effecte folowynge the same, the whiche stedfast quietnes of mynde is not to be inordinatlye styrred or moued with passions.

SIS. Sauyng your tale brother: I praie you tell me some englyshe woorde what you call passion.

For truely I knowe no nother pas­sion but the passion of Christe.

BRO. Than I haue loste many wordes. For I thoughte I hadde sufficiently declared vnto you, that any mouynge of the mynde in to an vngodlye desyre, was called a passion, as malyce, rancour, yre, enuy, ambicion, couetousenes, let­chery, glottony, pryde, hatred, stu­dy of prayse, study of auengynge, and suche other, whiche styrre vp and moue the mynde oute of his naturall reste, to loue or to hate [Page 33] without reason and measure: As whan our bodie suffreth any tour­ment, we saie, we be in a passion: so when our mynde suffreth any su­che inordinat desires, we haue the myndes passion: and euery suche mocion of mynde out of due cours is called a passion. The mynde is moued out of his due cours, as of­ten as hit is stirred with these af­fectes, that bee engendred of our principall loue to this lyfe, as to bee dispraised with oure dispraises or sclaunders is a thyng that ry­seth in vs frome the loue of this lyfe, where if we studie to be mag­nified, we bee in a soore passion a­gaynst reason, the whiche teacheth vs to seke our glorye in more sta­ble thynges, then can bee founde in this life. But bycause you speke of the worde, shortely as you saie, [Page] it is no veraie englysshe woorde: howe be it whan we bee dryuen to speake of thynges that lacke the names in our tongue, we bee also driuen to borowe the wordes, that we haue not, sometyme out of la­tine, sometyme out of greke, euen as the latine tongue dothe in lyke necessitie borowe and take of other. And thoughe nowe at the firste he­ring this worde standeth straungely with you, yet by vse it shal waxe famyliar, specially whan you haue it in this maner expressed vnto you.

Nowe then to obteine this reste of mynde, the chefe effecte of cha­ritie, we must beware that no passi­on rule in vs, but alwayes in all thynges we muste ordre our desy­res by the draughte and traine of this one desire, the whiche we haue for louing god alone with all our [Page 34] holle hertes, power, wittes, and in­tellygence, neuer suffring aduised­lye the corrupte loue of this false flattering lyfe, to haue any smalle place in our soule, wherby we shuld waxe the weaker in the full vniyng and knittyng of all our intencions to the wille and pleasure of god. And syster, it was the seconde part of your lesson. SISTER.

Ye brother I wolde I had lear­ned well, that I myghte euer bee quiete, howe so euer I were hande­led, ryghtwisely or vnryghtwisely, well or euill, gentilly or chorlishly.

It were an aungels condicion to be nothing changed or moued with well or woo: but to be continually in one tenure, in one temperature, neither heryng, nor seyng, nor fe­lyng, nor smellynge, nor tastynge, nor wysshynge, nor myndyng any [Page] erthly thyng besydes god, but ha­uyng continually a feruent desire to knowe, to loue, and to honour god. But brother, what meane you by this, to speake thus, as thoughe it were possible, to make of men aungelles, and more ouer to make of this worlde heauen? as longe as man is man, and as long as this worlde is this worlde, I reken hit not possible to kepe vs thus cleane from passions, as you saie the perfecte reste of charitie re­quyreth. BRO. You entre with me nowe sister, into a mattier of a longe communicacion, but at this tyme I wyll make you therto a ve­raie shorte aunswere.

Chryste wolde neuer teache man to praie, and to aske of god thyn­ges impossible to be opteined.

He instructed vs to saie in our pra­yer, [Page 35] Adueniat regnum tuum. Mat. 6. O lorde god lette thy kyngdome be here a­mongest vs. Where the kyngdome of god is, there god reygneth ouer suche subiectes, as bee woorthy to haue suche a kynge: and plainely there is heauen, where so euer is the kyngdome of god: So that of this worlde, there might bee made an heauen.

Againe our maister and sauiour taught vs to praie, Fiat uoluntas tu­a sicut in caelo et in terra, Oh good lorde graunt, that thy will maie be fulfylled in this worlde, as it is in heauen: that we men maie in e­uery thoughte and acte agre with thy will, as aungelles do: that we in this lyfe make noo more resy­stence againste thy pleasure, then the blessed company of heuen doth. This peticion can not take effecte [Page] onles man be made lyke an angel, all pure and clene from the dreggy appetites of this lyfe: that is to saie, vtterly ridde frome all passi­ons, the whiche euer striue against the wyll of god.

Now than in as muche as I be­leue, that Christe byddeth vs aske nothynge, but the same maie bee: I thinke it possible to make of this worlde the kyngdome of god, and to make men the kepers of goddis will: The whiche two thynges, to lyue in the kyngdome of god, and to obserue and kepe goddes will, I recken to be a perfection of aun­gels lyfe in heauen.

But syster, remembre, Christ byd­dethe vs not to attempte to per­forme this perfection by our owne power: for that were playnely im­possible, but it is our maisters in­struction, [Page 36] that we shulde turne vs in praier to god, and of his infinite goodnes craue and aske his grace, wherby we shall be comforted, su­steyned, and coraged to saie at the laste with saincte Paule,

We be able to do all in hym, that helpeth vs Iesus Christe.Eph. 4. This were to haue our spirite holly gy­uen to serue god, to knowe god, to loue god, and nothyng elles.

And if you wolde saie, that sainct [...] Paule came not to this perfection, nor none of the sainctes, but the beste men were synners, lette it soo be: yet be assured, if man duely ap­plye his will, to be without synne, so that in his wyll be noo lacke nor faynyng, this man before god is an aungell. And syster, as he sho­teth nerer the marke, then he dothe that seeth none, and shoteth at all [Page] aduentures: so you seyng now and knowyng the veraie perfection of charitie, you shal the better enforce towarde it, than if you were beset with blynde ingnoraunce. Of all this matter sister, with you I will not reason out of your Pater noster, the whiche I thinke is inough for your requestes at this tyme. SIS. I holde me contented brother, and praye I will fyrste, that I maie thinke possible to be thus perfecte. Next that I maie haue grace to en­force thytherwarde the vertuous power of my herte. BRO. There is noo more required of you, but this appliyng of your wyll to get grace, but grace shall you neuer gette, but if you aske it without a­ny doubt or mistruste in the good­nes of god, who is euer redye to gyue, when he hereth one, that ac­cordyngly [Page 37] asketh.

And to shewe you what praier is shaped accordyngly to goddis ea­res, it were a mattier for no lyttell boke. Therfore syster, bee conten­ted to leaue your digressions, and retorne to your purpose. SIS. I haue no purpose, but to learne, and learne I shulde if you taughte me to praie. Ye lest I trouble you to to muche, I wylle go forth, to re­quire of you what was the thyrde poynte in my lesson of charitie.

BRO. It was to shewe, that cha­ritie is not lyke one vertue,Charitie is not like one vertue but it is suche a thynge, that by manye degres of diuers vertues, it muste bee goten, as a fynalle conclusion of all labour and trauaile in ver­tue. As fyrste we muste be endued with a vndoubted Faithe, to be­leue perfectely the historie of our [Page] sauiour: whose doctrine brought firste into this worlde this charitie for an absolute conclusion of al la­wes. After this faithe we must en­tre into a feare of godFeare of god. not the feare of vile bondmen, the whiche haue no mind to kepe their masters pleasure, but only loke vpon the punishment, our feare must be a reuerence to god, lyke as louynge children feare to displease theyr fathers.

By this reuerent and louing feare we must procede to Abstinence,Abstinence that is to saie, we must beare such feare and reuerence to God, as shall cause vs for the honour of god, to refraine the sensuall inticementes of synne, the whiche bespottethe, deformethe, and defeatethe the y­mage of god in vs, the greattest e­uyll that man hath. To kepe this abstinence we muste gather Pacy­ence,Pacience. [Page 38] a vertue that maketh strong our soule, to suffre the violence of all resistence to vertue, by the whi­che pacience we shall take an hope to be parte takers of goddes mer­cifulnesse, and to inioy a rewarde, that passeth all the powers of men, to shewe it. Out of this spryngeth a feruente loue to god, whiche is called charitie, through whiche the mynde shall bee seteled in suche a quietnes, that all the chaungeable and sondry blastes of this worlde, shall nothyng moue as frome our desire to rest in god: And this min­des reste and perfecte quietnesse is the pryncypall effecte of charitie, the conclusion and finall perfecti­on of all vertue.

I will nowe ende these mattiers, with a wonderfull prayse, that the chosen vessell of god sainct Paule [Page] wryteth of charitie, of the whiche praise I woulde haue you syster note and marke diligently, what a dignitie is in charitie, to be aboue all thinges pondred and regarded of all Christen men: This apostle saieth in effecte thus. If almyghty god the father woulde gyue to me all giftes of his grace, as to endue me with the holy spirite of prophe­cie, to make me a priuie counsailor of all the secrete misteries in heuen,1. Col. 13. to cause by the power and strength of faithe to worke wonders, to do miracles in quicknynge the deed, in gyuinge sight to the blynde, yet all this not withstandynge, I am not in the waie of saluacion, if I wante charitie. Howe muche then shoulde man bestowe, endeuour, enforce, and exercise all his wittes to gette and kepe the possession [Page 39] of this high vertue, the whiche [...] the soule of lyfe, the grace [...] [...]a­ces, the one thynge that [...]nethe man in fauour with god, and that god onely requireth of man for all his goodnes towarde man: It is suche a thyng th [...]s charitie, that by the auctoritee of holy writ, I wyll not onely call this vertue a godly thyng, but I sai it is god him selfe, that who so euer kepeth him in cha­ritie, he hath god with hym:1. Io. 4. and he in god dwelleth, that dwellethe in charitie. For bothe god is charitie and charitie is god: to whom nowe and euermore be all glorie, praise, and honour.

Amen.

A compendious trea­tise teachyng the waie of diyng well.

THey saie, it is a point of a proude vanitee, or a stubburne foly, to kepe sure and cer­taine, what some e­uer is ones saied, always, it semeth not to wyse men, that a promisse shulde bee sticked by, in as muche there maie chaunce greatter causes to breake a promisse, than the rea­sons bee, why promisse shoulde be performed. As if I haue saied, that I will suppe with you: hit is not e­nough to binde me against al chances. I maie fall sicke, I maie haue at home some necessary impedimēt, the wether maie so fal, that it is no goyng out, many casualties maie [Page 81] happen, that were not in mynde, whan suche promysse was made. Wherfore wyse men saie, in all ma­kyng of promisse, there be euer vn­derstande some secrete excepcions, suche as be these: If I can, If I maie, If it bee conuement, If noo greatter cause happen to lette me. By the whiche excepcions, a pro­misse neuer bindeth a man further, than is accordyng to bee obs [...]rued and kepte.

¶If I thought (my frende Iohn̄ walker) that you wolde take mine excuse by the saied excepcions, I woulde rather by theim escape my promisse, that I haue made to you, than I wolde fulfyl it for whan I sodenly agreed to your requeste, that was to haue me wryte to you the waie of diyng well: I conside­red not at that time, what the thing [Page] was. After I perceiued more dif­ficultee in it, than was mete for my poore wit specially beyng (as you maie see me) other wyse occupied, in suche studies as appertaine to my leisure: and of shortely this les­son to lerne the waie of diyng well, hath nede to haue a maister, the whiche knowethe bothe what our lyfe is, and what the losse of the same is. Nor no man in my minde can effectuously teache the waie to die wel, except he be one that knoweth the waie to liue wel. And plain­ly the mattier requireth a philoso­phers stomacke and a sadde. For suche a one as Marcus Cato was, were a man mete to entreate this thyng: he knewe what valure laie in deathe, the whiche he soughte bothe with sworde, and his nayles, tearyng [...]ut his owne bowelles.

[Page 82]¶I wolde thynke a Catulus or a Mercula shoulde speake lustely to you of deathe, seynge they shewed theyr couragious herte nothing to esteme lyfe, whan the tyme requi­red, either to die with honour, or to liue with shame. These men and suche other woulde shewe you the waie to go to deathe, longe before deathe came to you. But none of all the painymes canne either with worde or with ensaumples of their actes declare this thyng soo truely and effectually, as maie he that is exercised in Christes philosophie, a Paule, or a Peter, or a Hierom shulde here in speake more lyuely: than all the subtylle clerkes of the olde grekes. Yet to me, for my part, it is an harde thyng, either to plaie with you one of this sort, or of that sort. It passeth my power to speake [Page] to you either like Socrates, or like Chrisostome. So that if the saied excepcions bee with you admitted in a promisse makyng, I maie truely denie you the performaunce of my grauntyng, in as muche whan I promised you this thyng, there was vnderstanded, if I could, and if it were conuenient: I nother can wel declare this waie of diyng, nor yet me thynke, it is not conuenient for me, liuing in this cōmon course of the worldely folke, to speake of deth so ernestly, as a monke of the Charter house shoulde and myght dooe. But bycause I knowe your importune desire, to be so set vpon this thing that nedes you wil haue me saie somewhat herein: I will praie you so to reade me, as the tale not onely to bee wrytten of me for you, but that I my selfe am also an [Page 83] auditour of the same, and as mu­che shal I enforce to folow the coū ­saile, that in my saiynge I aduise you, as thoughe the holle woorke pertained onely to my selfe, wher­in take this note for your comfor­tes. that I write nothyng to you, that I wyshe not were in my owne power to execute. Thus I with you, and you with me bothe of vs fast yoked to gethers, let vs ende­uour our selfes to be in dede suche men as we commende and praise. For as it is shame to speake one thyng and to thynke an other, soo it is a more shame to write holyly and to lyue worldly. And as great a rebuke there is in hym that can here and praise good saiynges but doo there after he will not. Nowe than let vs not speake onely of the waie to die well, but in effecte lette [Page] vs indeuer our mindes to haue the frute of this lesson, to make in dede a good ende of our lyfe. And here nowe without any further proces I will begin to paie you my dette, and shortelye you shall knowe my minde howe you maie die well.

¶As I was bethynkyng me, to write some thing of this mattier to the satisfiynge of your desire, I tourned a boke, where my memo­rie g [...]ue me, to bee a storie of one called Caniu [...], that lyued vnder the tyraun: Caligula Cesar. This Canius beside his hye learnynge was a man of a greatte spirite, the whiche he w [...]ll declared in the ma­ner of taking his death. It chaun­ced hym to faile out for a certaine cause with the saied tiraunte, and many sore woordes were betwene theim: at the laste whan the tone [Page 84] was departyng frome the tother, this emperour in his fiers [...]re said: well thou foole, make mery if thou wilte, for I haue pointed the with­in fewe daies to be [...]ame. Therat Canius turned him with low cour­tesy and saied: My mooste gentill prynce I hertely thanke you.

¶This answere came from a no­ble stomacke, whereby he shewed the madde rages of the cruell ty­raunt to be soo farre intollerable, that vnder hym deathe was to be reckened for a benefit and a good tourne: wherfore he thanked hym for his offer, as for a specially re­warde. And great maruaile men had to beholde this Philosopher, howe merie he was after this ty­rantes thretenyng. There were .x. daies gyuen of respite, before he shoulde die the whiche tyme he soo [Page] passed, that he neuer semed to be in lesse care, nor to haue his mynde in better quietnes.

¶Whan the daie came of execuci­on, the kynges geyler and hang­man wente about the towne with a great company of them that shuld suffer deathe, the whiche passinge by this Canius house, they called hym to bee broughte also forthe a­mongeste the other, at the whiche tyme Canius was plaiyng at the chestes with one of his company­ons, and hearing them make hast, he rose and telled his men, saiyng to his companion: Loke now that after my deathe you lye not, nor make noo faulse crakes, that you haue won this game. There with also he bekenyd to the geyler and saied: I praie you beare witnes, that I haue one man in this game [Page 85] more than my felowe hath.

¶In this wyse this philosopher plaied with death, and shortly his quiete herte gaue a fouie checke mate to the tyrauntes crueltie: he shewed hym selfe to be in spirite as farte aboue all kinges violent po­wer, as these mighty prynces think to haue a stronge dominyon ouer all theyr subiectes. The frendes and familiars of this philosopher were veraie sorowfull, bewailyng the losse of suche a man, to whome: what meane you quoth he? why be you sad? why mourne you for me? Is hit not youre studye to knowe, whether the soule of man be mortal or immortal? The trouth of this harde question I now shall learne: and nowe shall I see the trouth of all our doubtes of heuen and of god.

[Page]¶Thus talking with his frendes he came to the place of execucion, and there a lyttell, whyleste other were headded, he stode styl in a mu­syng dumpte. What thynke you nowe good Canius, quoth one of his frendes? Where vppon nowe muse you so ernestly: Mary (quoth he) I haue determined with my self to marke wel, whether in this short pange of death my soule shall per­ceiue and feele, that he goeth out of my bodie. This pointe I fully en­tende to take hede of: and if I can, I will surely brynge you and the rest of my felowes worde, what I felte, and what is the state of our soules.

¶Here was a wonderfull caulme stomacke in the middest of soo stor­mye a tempest, this mans mynde was worthy of an euer lasting life, [Page 86] that was not only to the death stu­dious of knowladg, but also in the selfe death founde occasion of lear­nyng. It was not possible for any mans minde to continue his studie longer, or to a further pointe than this noble philosopher dyd.

¶This storie and certaine other like, maken me often to reson with my selfe, what a strength of know­ladge is in mans braine, to serche and to finde by hym selfe the truth, if he enforce his wittes to learne. For this Canius and many other were not taught of Christe, as we nowe be, they had not the rules of faith, the which shewe the vndoubt­fulle waie to come to the perfytte knowladge of all priuie misteries, they were not comforted with the preachyng of goddis son to set lyt­tell by this life as we now be. Thei [Page] wer not plucked to conceiue a loue of vertue aboue nature: as the ho­ly scripture draweth vs from this world to the beholding of an other place, where vertue receiuethe hic crowne. Wherfore to me it is noo smalle cause of maruailyng, whan I here suche ensaumples of natu­rall men, that by them selfe coulde in suche a maner ryse aboue theyr nature, in settynge lyttell by that thyng, that naturally euery crea­ture mooste abhorreth and feareth (for deathe is the thing that in this worlde by nature is made mooste doubtfull, most terrible, most hey­nous, and moste worthy to be fea­red, to be eschewed, and by all mea­nes, waies, gynnes, or craft to be escaped) To here than a naturall man, without the teachyng of god, to ryse vp in his phantasie aboue [Page 87] nature, to iudge of deathe farre o­ther wise then nature teacheth him, to dispise the duraunce in this lyfe whan he knoweth no certainetie of none other world, to vse the strēgth and myghte of the spirite againste the puisant power of all tyrantes:

It semethe to me a wonderfulle thynge, and more wonderfull the same shulde be, if I sawe not writ­ten in holi scripture, how that from the fyrste creacion of Adam, the goodnes of god hath bene so great towarde mankynde, that he hathe gyuen vs alwaie sufficiente grace to knowe the righte, to see the hye maiestee of vertue, to finde out the true dignitee of the soule, to per­ceiue the vanite of this present life, and fynally to vnderstande where in standethe the pleasure of god, and wherein standeth his displea­sure. [Page] Euer by goddis mere good­nes man knewe what was well to bee done, and what was contrarie yuell to be done. It is a lawe writ­ten in the herte of man with the fin­ger of god in our creacion, to be enduced by reasonne to praise alwaie vertue, and to thinke synne woor­thy of dispraise. The minde of man hath a grace to se further than the bodye syghte can attaine to, the mynde of man feleth more subtilly than our fyue wittes can aproche to, the losse of bloudde or of brethe is a smal trifull in the mindes con­sideracion, whan the mynde vsethe his owne cleare sighte, and is not blynded with the darkenesse of the bodie, the whiche stombleth at e­uerie strawe in this worlde.A worldly man. Euery mote choketh a worldely man. E­uerie littel sounde maketh a worldly [Page 88] man trimble and shake. I call a worldely man him that giueth al [...]is care to vse his wittes in this worlde, that creapeth vppon suche thynges as be lene, harde, felte, ta­sted, and sinelte, that clymeth not in no consideracion aboue the mist of this valey. The moste parte of men euer haue bene of this weake sorte and yet styll the moste part of men is the same. This worlde euer hath his multitude, that honou­reth, worshyppeth, and magnifi­eth nothyng beside this shorte life, and those thynges that pertaine to this life. Yet againe euer hath there bene some and styll there bee some, that playe the philosophers, the whiche studied to know the digni­ties and woorthynesses of euerye thing, howe muche it shuld be este­med, valuied, or regarded of vs, [Page] the whiche laboreth to picke out in euerye thynge what is good and what is naught. Men of this sorte be called spirituall men.Spirituall men. For you must know, that a taillour, a sho­maker, a carpenter, a bote man, without both lernyng and orders, maie be spirituall, whan a maister of arte, a doctour of diuinitee, a dean [...], a bishop both with his cun­ning and dignities maie be tempo­rall, seyng the true diffinicion of a spiritual man is to be one, in whom the mynde and spirite cheifelye ru­leth. Like wise the temporall man is he,Temporal men. in whom this present time of this traunsitorie lyfe hath mooste rome. Thus I saie spirituall men haue euer sene the trouth, to pon­der and valure euery thyng in this worlde accordingly. And as to the temporall mynde nothyng semeth [Page 89] sweter than to lyue here, so the spi­rituall minde fyndeth swetenes in deathe, by the whiche this lyfe en­deth. For lyke as the prince of this world neuer agreeth with god, nor yet the bodie with the soule, nor the erthe with heauen: soo he that stu­dieth for this time, hath cleane contrarie opinions to him that folow­eth the spirite. And as the tempo­rall man saieth, it is a pleasaunte thynge to lyue here, and a bytter thyng it is to die: so the spirituall man thynkethe it a better tyme to induce the space of this lyfe, and muche ioy he conceiueth by the rid­daunce of the soule from the heauy burden of this bodie.

¶Of these contrarye opinyons you shall lesse maruaile, whan we haue a littell considered the thyng it selfe, what shoulde be death, the [Page] whiche one parte of vs soo muche feareth, and an other sort setteth so littel by the same: and so by a short processe you shall see, whether the saied Canius bee more woorthy of praise for his littell regardyng the deadly punishement,Frances [...] Philippe. than is frances Philip, that within fewe yeres passed was put to execucion with vs for treason, the whiche died soo cowardely, in soo great panges of feare, that he semed extracte from his wittes scant for quakyng and trimbling the wreche could speake one worde. The fewe wordes that he coulde with muche stutterynge sounde, were onely in the declara­cion of his dispraie [...] nor nothynge was sene nor harde of hym, but we [...]yng, lamentyng, wryngyng of his handes, with banninge the houre and daie of his byrthe, conti­nually [Page 90] sighing, as though his hert shuld haue burste for sorowe. The difference of these affectes wil here after be (I thynke) plainer to you, whan we haue a littel more spoken in this mattier. For nowe good John̄, I will crepe a littel nygher to your desyre the which you haue, of learnyng the waie to die well.

¶THIS DIYNGE well is in ef­fecte to die gladly.To die well. For who soo e­uer dieth gladlie, he departeth frō this lyfe in a sure hope to lyue a­gaine, beynge nowe wery of this worlde: but nother this hope of the lyfe to come, nor this werynes of the lyfe presente, can make in a­ny man a glad herte to die, One­les he be one that hath lyued well here. For in deathe there can be no gladnes, excepte there bee a fulle truste of opteyning the rewarde of [Page] vertue, partely by the truste and faith of a good mynde, partely by the mercie of god, that fulfilleth e­uer our insufficiencie, yf we bryng ought with vs woorthy of his fa­uour. For goddis grace supplieth, where our power lacketh, if it soo bee that our soules appere before hym in an apparelle mete for his presence, the whiche apparell re­quireth a perfecte faith, and an er­nest will of doing well, all though we haue not alwaie done wel. The mercie of god neuer failethe hym, that fully trusteth in it: But a ful truste canne not bee withoute the strength of charitee, the whiche e­uer burneth in the loue of doynge good: and faith can not be perfect, oneles there bee good workes, the whiche maie stur vp and quycken in vs faithe to take a beeleue, that [Page 91] by Christis actes our final demeri­tes maie grow to be perfect. Thus a cherefull hert, be sette with faith, hope, and charitee, taketh no pen­sifulnes in the remembraunce of death, but rather it reioyseth to re­membre, that by death it shall passe to lyfe, neuer more to die. Wher­fore to die well euer, is to die glad­ly, either to be ridde from the bon­des of this prison, or to optaine the lybertee of heauen: bothe waies commeth from a good lyfe passed: so that surely no man can die well, that lyueth not well, for euer death is a sorowfull thyng to the euyl ly­uer, bycause he hath nothing to lay before the mercie of god, wherv­pon he maie take hope and truste to be made worthy of the sure lyfe, in the whiche deathe medleth not. Nowe than yf we can gether, what [Page] maie let vs to be gladde of deathe, and what wyll bring vs to a desire of diyng gladdely, we shall by the same picke out the waie to die well, For in my minde these .ii. be alwais one, to die well, and to die gladly.

¶The glad desire of diyng is let­ted cheifely by two thynges:Two let­t [...]s to die gladly. one by the feare of death, the tother by the loue of this lyfe. The tone of these foloweth the tother. For he that lo­ueth this lyfe, feareth to die: and he that feareth to die, loueth this lyfe. Yet we maie speake of eche parte by him selfe, and fyrste let vs assaie the greatteste, the whiche is the feare of death: than next after we will come to the tother, the whi­che is the loue of this life. If these two blockes bee taken out of our stomackes, we shall fynde an easy and a plaine wa [...] to the ende of our [Page 92] purpose. For who someuer nother feareth to die, nor loueth to tarie in this lyfe, he is redie alwaie to die gladly. But to performe my pro­misse, let me saie some what of the saied feare and loue.

¶Fyrste and cheifely the feare of death taketh awaie all gladnes of diyng, and therby after myne opi­nion, no man that dieth fearefully can die well: soo that to learne the waie of diyng well we must learne the waie to die without feare. And yet how I shulde proue, that death is not to be feared, I can not well tel, seyng the hole power of nature sheweth, that of all thynges death is most fearefull: and to reason a­gainste nature, it were paraduen­ture not soo harde as vaine. For what can reason preuaile, if nature resist [...] It is a thing to farre aboue [Page] mans power to striue or to wrastell with nature, hir strengthe passeth the myght of our will, what helpe some euer we take of reason or of auctoritee: nother counsaile nor cō ­maundment hath place, where na­ture dothe hir vtter mooste. It is none excu [...]e to saie, that men feare death bycause they be loth to leaue the commoditees of this lyfe, or by­cause they feare the thretenynges of purgatorie and of hell, or elles bycause they thynke vpon the sore peynefull panges, the whiche be in the tyme of death. Naie these thin­ges make not cheifely the feare of diyng, it maie well be that of suche thynges the feare is increased and made more ful, but there is a feare before and beside all these thinges, the whiche feare nature (I saie) gi­ueth, as it is well sene in yong chil­dren, [Page 93] that haue no remembraunce nother of this life, nor of the dede­ly panges, nor of heauen, purga­torie, or helle. Whan we in sporte threten to caste theim headling out at some hye windowe, they quake, trimble, and waxe pale, shewynge plaine and euident tokens of a na­turall feare towarde deathe. And thoughe by learnyng, or by a cur­ragious minde, somme few amon­gest vs, seme lyttell or nothyng to be moued with deathe: yet the en­saumple of these fewe can not take awaie the trouth, that nature in all the reste worketh. For howe many be there that onely to eschew death suffre al wretchednes, al beggarie, all peyne, in pycking vp crommes of nourisshement, to abide a while in this lyght: And the more sham­fully, that men for the moste parte [Page] feare to die, the greater proffe there is, that suche extreme poyntes of feare against all shame shulde not in soo many daiely appere, whan death approcheth, onles by nature some iuste feare were of the same.

For as the exceasse of feare cometh by weakenes of herte and lacke of stomacke, the whiche is worthy to be rebuked for shamefull coward­nes: so there is a meane measure of feare n [...] death, that maie be recke­ned honest and iuste, bycause na­ture maketh it necessarie.

¶Loke you howe bothe olde and newe stories kepe in memorie their names that appered to dy without feare: as who saie, it is to be writ­ten for a wonder and lyke to a my­racle, beynge a thynge beside the course of nature, to here of a man that can in death ouercome the passion [Page 94] of feare, as we wonder to here of some that lyue withou [...]e susti­naunce of meate or of drinke. By­cause I saie it is a naturall thynge to feare deathe, we greately mar­uaile of them that feare it not. Yet reason saith, we shoulde not feare that thynge, the whiche we knowe not, and onely euyll is woorthy to be feared. But seyng we know not death [...] we maie wel by reion doubt, whether it bee euyll or good. And now before we speake any more of feare, let vs a littel consider death by it selfe, what thyng it is of his owne nature, and whether by it self it be good or euyll.

¶We call ones deathe the losyng a sonder and departyng of .ii. thin­ges,What death is? the soule frome the bodie: the whiche departyng no man can es­cape, but necessarily die al we must [Page] that be borne in this worlde. Whan the body by any violence loseth his sensis, and is spoiled frō the quicke vse of his principall partes, than departeth the soule from hym: and in maner the body leueth the soule, before the soule leaueth the bodie. For it is not the soule by hym selfe that goeth frome the bodie, but it is the bodie by his forsakyng lyfe, that causethe the soule to departe.

For where lyfe is not, there the soule can not abide: and as the bo­die is lyuely before the soule ente­reth, so the same bodie is deadly be­fore the soule departeth. Bloud in his measure and temperaunce be­twene colde and hotte, kepeth lyfe in the bodie: the whiche bloud by innumerable wais of chances may be altered and constramed to leaue his nourishyng whervpon shal in­sue [Page 95] the losse of life, & then streight after foloweth the soules goyng a­way. For well you knowe, that the soule is one thyng, and life is an o­ther. Where so euer the soule is, there is life.The soule. The lyfe. But it is not true, that where some euer life is, there is the soule. For trees and herbes haue a parte of life, & a more parte of life is in muskelles, oysters, and wor­mes: yet a more perfecte life is in these beastes and birdes [...] the which haue amongeste theim some more some lesse of lifes perfectnesse. But though in them life, the whiche re­steth in the vse of the sensis, that be to here, to se, to fele, to smel, to tast, and in swifte mouynge is a greate worke of life, the which thynges I say, though they be in the perfecti­on amongest these beastes: yet the hand of god hath not giuen to any [Page] creature liuyng in the earth water or ayre, to haue besyde life a soule: the whiche is a thyng formed after his likenesse, sauyng onely to man, whom he hathput here to rule ouer thynges created, like as he ruleth in heauen ouer all. It is the crea­tours wyll, that no thynge in this worlde shal haue a soule, but man alone: the whiche soule bryngeth with him the vse of reason, a thyng that maye teache vs bothe that we haue a soule, and that god is he the whiche hath thus made vs to be in this worlde his cheife and most ex­cellent creature. Reason doth thus teache vs, yet beside reason we be herein better instructed by our ma­ster the sonne of god, so that nowe we can not doubte, that in vs is a thyng, the whiche can not die. But of suietie we euidently se, not only [Page 96] by reason, but muche better by be­lefe, that the ymage of god in vs is perpetual and can not fele any cor­ruption, onelesse suche as our fro­warde will maie giue, wherof gro­weth syn, that is the lyuyng death of the soule. But lette vs come to our mattier.

¶To speake of this bodily deathe we now haue a great fordel in comparison of some olde clerkes, that were in doubte, whether there was in man any soule beside lyfe, more than is in an horse or a gose. They were in doubte whether any thyng of man remayned after death, that myghte feele or perceiue eyther ioy or peyne. For as to the faynynge poetes, that spake of delicious gardeynes for good spirites, and of di­uers soore turmentes for vngraci­ous sowles after this life, mooste [Page] parte of olde clerkes, gaue no ma­ner of credence: and they that bele­ued other an heauen or an hell, to bee ordeyned for mens soules, yet they so beleued, that muche doubt­fulnes was in theyr belefe, in as muche as their reason suffised not to fynde out the certaintee of god­des workes From the which doub­tis the vnfallible doctrine of Christ hath nowe deliuered vs all, so that as many as wyll gyue eare to the voyce of god, they can not mistrust their knowladge, but that without [...]uestion both we haue a soule, and the same soule is immortal a thing that neither in this worlde nor out of this worlde can perishe or feele any pointe of death, to lacke by the same any iote of his beyng. I saie our soules continuallye withoute ende shall euer more endure, the [Page 97] which be created and made by god after the fourme of god. What forme that is, it is as harde to shew as it passeth our capacitie to know what god is, whose shap and faci­on our soules beareth.

¶Nowe than what shall we saye of deathe? the whiche by hym selfe is not vnlyke to an endles slepe of the bodye, wherof the bodye lyeth without power to vse anye sence, beyng after life like to a stone, that neuer hadde life. This chaunge of the bodies state,Whether death by it selfe be good or euill. whether by it selfe it bee good or euyll, it is an hard [...] thynge for vs to iudge, seeyng the trouth is, that no man liuynge ex­pertly knoweth what thyng death is: and to determine of a thing vn­knowen, it semethe a presumpcion full of folye. Therfore without a­ny certaine determinacion we may [Page] for our learnyng debate with rea­son the thyng, as muche as shalbe within the bondes of our capacity,Deathe is not good. and fyrst if death were by hym selfe good, it shoulde be no trespasse for one man to kyll hym selfe or an o­ther. For in giuing to other a good thynge or in takynge to our selfe a good thynge, can bee noo rebuke. Where the dede is good, there is well doyng in the doer: But euer, not onely by Christes teachynge, but also by naturall reason man­slaughter hath bene iudged an ab­hominable synne. Wherfore it can not be that by hym selfe deathe is a good thing. And againe an euyll thynge it is not.Deathe is not euill. For Chryste died wyllyngly, the whiche will in god and goddis sonne coulde not haue consented to deathe, if deathe had bene a thyng of his owne nature e­uyll. [Page 98] Nor yet it coulde not be, that vertue shuld be praised in the glad suffering of death as now be crow­ned in heauen many holy marters, the whiche couragyously toke v­pon theim not death. And surely it shoulde not be the naturall ende of mans course in this life, if it were a thing, by it selfe naught. For euill magrie mans heade, is neuer put to him, as it shuld be yf death were euyll: the whiche necessariely man is constrained to suffer. Therfore it semeth true, that deathe conside­red alone by it selfe, is nother good nor euill.Deathe is nother good nor euill. But whan we here of di­yng wel or diyng euil, or of a good deathe or an euill deathe: it is not deathe by it selfe that is spoken of, but rather the circumstances, the maner, the facion, the cause of deth, or that goeth before death, or that [Page] foloweth death. These be the thin­ges that gyuethe and takethe this name of goodnes or euilnes, As to saie that deathe is good, bycause it endeth this sinneful life, and is the meane to passe from this worlde to heauen: or els whan we saie, that Iudas died an euil death, it is not ment that the departing of Iudas soule from the bodie was euill, but the maner of his diyng, was the e­uill thyng, his cursed desperacion, his dampnable mistrust of goddis mercy, his dispitful refusing grace, made his death euil. The two the­ues, he at the ryght hande, and he at the lefte, bothe died one kinde of death, both nailed to crosses, bothe woorthy for their trespasses: yet it is trouthe, that the tone died well in a good deathe, the tother died naughte in an euill deathe, not for [Page 99] the deathe by it selfe, wherin was no difference, but for the diuersitee of their .ii. mindes in takynge of death. The tone repented him, and asked mercie, wherof he died graci­ouslye, the tother continued in his blaspheming god, the whiche stub­burne stomacke in sinne caused him to die vngraciously. It is a thing that foloweth death, and is not in deathe it selfe, whervpon we loke, whan we iudge to bee a good ende or an euil. For by the maner of him that dieth, we coniecture the state and condicion of the soule: the whi­che if we finde in our fantasie to be in an euill case, as in the daunger of goddes curse, we calle deathe e­uil, wherby the soule passed to com to suche sorowe. And contrarie, if we thinke the soule to be in the fa­uour of god, or to bee redie to take [Page] mercie we call death good, the whi­che conueied the soule to his blys. So that by it self death remaineth indifferent to be iudged of diuers consideracions, other a good ende or an euill ende.

¶Now than we maie here saie, he that feareth deathe,To feare deathe. shewethe him selfe to bee in doubte of his soules state, or els to be certaine that his soule is in goddis curse. The whi­che fearefull minde is in them that haue soo passed this presente life, that either thei haue doen nothing, wherby thei maie hope to be rewar­ded in heauen: or els thei haue done so vngraciously, that thei can haue no trust of escaping damnable pu­nishement, specially if he be a chri­stened man. For if he bee not chri­stened, and feareth to die, he decla­reth him selfe to haue none higher [Page 100] thoughte of lyfe, than the dumbe beastes haue, the whiche make by the lawe of nature so much of their lifes, that they can minde nothing beside, and the losse of their bloud maketh with theim an hole conclu­sion of their beyng. Wherfore bea­stes mai iustly fle and feare death, as the worste thinge that can hap­pen to their state: but a man doth hym selfe to muche wronge, if he thinke hym selfe in no better condi­cion than be these beastes, It is not in the diuels power to doo man soo great hurte as this false imagina­cion dothe. And surely vnworthy he is to haue in hym the power of vnderstanding, of thinking, of pro­uiding, of learning, of teaching, of diuisyng, of remembrynge, of lo­uing, of hatyng of reasoning, of counsailing, of infinite mo giftes, [Page] who some euer iudgeth him selfe to haue noo more than a swyne or an ape hath: Loke as by the fiue wit­tes the bodie knoweth this or that: soo by these powers of minde, the soule walketh to his vnderstan­ding, and of an heauenly mattier is made this maruailous thinge, that dwelleth in mans bodie for a time, to be made worthy other of e­uerlastyng lyfe, or of euerlastinge death, for the damned soule lyueth in death without ende.

¶But yet what shal we saie to the place we lefte before, that natural­ly deathe is feared.Deathe is not to be feared. Lette it bee the woorkyng of nature, yet I see not but the strength of mans mind ful­ly fastened in faithe, maie victori­ously ouer come all this feare, as we finde many ensamples of men that so haue done, not only of them [Page 101] that haue bene helped with faith, but also of many paynymes, the whiche toke a courage to dispyse death, onely of a mightie and va­liant minde to haue reason subdue in theim the power of all affectes.

¶I finde, a lerned painime wrote that we shoulde nother care for life by it selfe, nor yet for deathe by it selfe. He saith that we shulde care to liue well and to die well, and let life and deathe passe without care. For life is not good, but to liue wel is good.

¶If painymes haue this righte consideracion of life and of death, what shame is it for Christened mē to care for deathe? seeyng Christe whose wordes can not but be true, soo vehemently forbyddeth vs the same, that painimes sawe by rea­son to be done. Againe, seyng this [Page] death is so common a thyng daiely in our sight, why shoulde we feare it. Thynges that sildome chaunce mai stur vp by their ra [...]enes great fere: thinges that be euer at hande shuld by their familiaritee and cu­stome nousell vs to sette littell by them. Furthermore he that feareth death comyng to hym, wolde feare by lykelyhode death, if it coulde be with hym, whan deathe is suche a thing, that other it is not yet come, or els it is paste. For noo man can saie, that death is present. So this feare can neuer be ioyned with the thing that is feared. Againe that thyng that euery man maie do, no man lightly dothe, that thyng that no man can helpe him selfe in, that for the moste parte all men do. No man almost studieth or careth how well he maie liue, but howe longe [Page 102] he maie liue euerye man musethe, whan the trouthe is, that it might of all men be optained to liue wel, and noo man can further him selfe to liue longe. A like frowardenes is in our remembraunce of deathe, we busilye labour and enforce to dreame of deathe, the whiche thing we can not do: we might finde the waie to die well, and this thing we will not do. This madnes John̄ I trust, you will put of, and feare not deathe, the whiche you can not es­cape: But feare an euill death, the whiche you maie flee.

¶Amonge many commoditees of death I reken one cheifely to be set by, that it is good to die well, to es­cape therby the occasion of liuinge euill, and surely he dieth well, that for suche an intente taketh deathe gladdely.

[Page]¶More ouer consider you well, and you shall see, that in hym the whiche is curious to lyue, fortune hath a great rule, but in hym that can die gladdely, fortune hath noo power. And what a wretchednes it is to be vnder fortunes vanitee, I reporte me to theim, whome we be­holde daiely diuersly vexed as wel with immoderate lustes of to mu­che welth, as with passing sorowes of to muche trouble. Therfore to be out of fortunes thraldome sette littell by this lyfe, that is to saie, feare not deathe.

¶It pleased me to reade a paini­mes opinion, that saied. He is as foolishe that feareth deathe, as he that feareth to be olde. For as af­ter young age foloweth the old: so after olde age streighte folowethe deathe. And a madde mans pointe [Page 103] it is to feare deathe, seyng thinges vncertain, the whiche maie chance and maie not chance, bee only wor­thie of feare, but thing certain without doubt comming, must be loked for, not feared. The necessitee of deathes comminge is equalle and without remedie, soo that other to complaine, or to flee at deathe it is a plaine maddenes. For who can complaine to be in the condicion, in the whiche indifferently all men of this worde be?

¶And againe if the paine of dy­yng were a thinge to make deathe fearefull, firste it shoulde be a com­forte to remembre, that after the paine of deathe, there shall bee noo more paine, and as Epicure saith, If it be an extreme sore paine, it is shorte. For no vehement paine can bee longe. This were enoughe to [Page] make death not muche to be cared for. Euerie waie deathe is a thing neuer to bee feared of a wise man, and neuer to be out of minde bothe with good men and wise men. And as for the feare of deathe were not he (I praie you) a starke foole, that woulde wepe and waile bycause he was not borne to this life a thou­sande yeres ago (no lesse a foole is he who so euer soroweth because he can not liue a thousande yeres to come. For these .ii. saiynges be e­uen and equallye trew: you were not, you shall not be. So that one minde shulde be in vs, as wel to re­membre we shall not bee, as to re­membre we ones were not. It is no newe thing to die, our fathers, our graundfathers, our great forsiers be gone the waie that both we shall goo, and all that folowe vs muste [Page 104] come the same.

¶More ouer in as muche noo la­bour, wit, crafte, nor diligence pre­uaileth to escape death, no power, no tyches, no auctoritee helpethe, but all indifferentely bee called of death, all without choyse muste fo­lowe the traine of death, no corner can hide vs, no walles can defende vs, no waie nor meane, no intrea­tie, no praier, no suite, nothing vn­der heauen can kepe vs from dea­thes hande. Let vs than take a lu­stie courage of this desperacion, se­yng there is no remedy: let vs man fully go to it.

¶The moste feareful and coward beastes, that of nature be made to flee, whan thei be driuen in to suche straites, that thei can renne no fur­ther, thei turne theim [...] and with the power of their mighte thei enforce [Page] to escape. And surely it is euer sene that those ennemies bee euer moste terrible, the which be driuen by ex­treme force to fight. For necessiteeNecessitee correctethe and chastiseth our her­tes muche more sharply, than ver­tue can doo. Wherof a desperate minde shall do greatter actes, or at the least no lesse than a valiant sto­macke can do. In this necessitee of death we nowe be al, it is vaine for vs to flee or to ren awaie, our feare can finde no place of flighte. Lette vs imagine the trouthe as in dede it is, that we be all betraied to die. It is so John̄, that without doubt we be all kepte in a streite corner to bee ridde of this life. There is no hope of remedie. All this people that you se, howe long thinke you shall be. It shall not be longe, but all shall by the course of Nature be [Page 105] called hens to death and there hid. It maketh noo force neither of the daie nor of the place. There nedeth no questiō to be asked either where or whan, al must come to one ende, other soner or later, other before or after? What now John̄? doth not he seme vnto you a shamefull cow­arde, and a feareful wretch, a plain kikkes without an herte, that with much intercession, with many prai­ers desireth a littel delay of death? If you sawe one stand in the num­bre of many that shoulde be heade­ded, makyng most instant suite to the hangman, that he might be the last that shulde put his head to the blocke, wold you not saie, fie vpon such a wretched knaue, that so mu­che feareth deathe, beyng nowe at the pointe to die, whether he will or noo? and yet this maner nowe is [Page] with vs all. For the most part it is greattely valured with vs to die some what behinde other, none is so nighe death by age, that desireth not to differre from this daie vntil to morowe, whan in trouth suche a weake minde is in effecte dead and buried longe before the bodie fai­leth. Lifte vp therfore your herte onely bycause there is no remedie, desire not to flee whan there is noo place to ren to, lette necessitee giue you a courage, if al other strength decaieth. What a stomacke was in the saied Canius? of the which sort the stories make mencion to haue ben many amongest the painimes.

¶A tirant fiersly thretened Theo­dore the philosopher, that he shuld die, and that his bodie shulde lie to crowes vnburied: worshippefully saied, aunswered this Theodore to [Page 106] the tiraunt: Thou maist be proude of thy power. Bycause one ounce or two of bloud is in thy handes. And as for the buriall of my body. O howe folishe thou art, if thou re­ken it to be any difference, whether I rot vnder or aboue the grounde.

¶Of such couragious aunsweres the stories of pa [...]unes be ful. But muche more the bokes of Christe­ned men be full of such ensamples.

¶Christes faith made innumera­ble stronge champions, inuincible stomackes, not only toward death but againste all the cruell deuises that could be found to make death more painfull than death. The ho­ly martires were so farre from all pointes of feare, that thei semed to enforce and to striue to haue death giuen theim. Their mirthe was to suffer the horrible persecucion of [Page] tirauntes. No reason nor learning coulde worke suche strengthnes of hertes in mennes mindes, as the faith of Christe brought.

¶Loke howe sainct Paule reioy­seth in his troubles, howe he glori­eth in his scourginges, whyppin­ges, in his prisonment, in his fet­ters, all his lyfe semed to be a con­tinuall deathe, yet his herte neuer gaue ouer, but vexed by the paines daily stronger and stronger, to suf­fer a freshe. Feare of death was so farre from his minde, that he was gladde to remembre howe ones he shoulde die, and thereby passe to Christes presence whose quarell he defended in this world with all his might and power.

¶Loke vpon sainct Laurence li­yng broyling vppon the burninge cooles, as merie and as quiete as [Page 107] thoughe he laie vppon swete reed roses: Whan the turmentours tur­ned his body vpon the fierie gredi­ernes, he bad the cruel tiraunt eate of his burned side, whiles the to­ther part was a rostyng. This sai­yng declared that this holy marter feared no deathe.

¶How many thousande marters suffered incredible paines of flai­yng with hokes their skynne from the fleshe, of scrapyng with tile sto­nes the fleshe frome the bones, of rentyng and tearing membre from membre with horses, with bowed branches of trees, of beatyng with whippes till the bowelles fall out, of hangyng, of burning, of Cruci­fiyng, of infinite straunge and new deuises for paine? Howe many I saie, suffred all that cruell tiraun­tes could imagine either with hād, [Page] fier, or iron, rather than they wold ones denie them selfe to be of Chri­stes profession? Whan it was pro­claimed, that who so euer wold saie he was Christened, he shulde cruel­ly be put to death. There passed no daie, without a greatte numbre of them that boldly spoke tho woor­des, of the whiche shulde folowe so blouddie a slaughter. This was a manyfest token, that feare of death hadde no maner of place with our blessed martiers, the whiche with a constant boldnes defied and dispi­sed the mighty, cruel, and fierse em­perours, their courage to die ouer­threwe the ragynge madnes of ty­rauntes. The cause of this mirthe in soo pitious martirdomes was, that this blessed men knewe, howe Christ nother coulde nor wolde de­ceiue them, but that for their littell [Page 108] regardyng of this life, thei shulde optaine an other life, where their ioy shuld neuer haue nother chang, nor decrease, nor ende. Therefore my good Walker, mistrust you not Christe, whose doctrine the heauen and the erth hath by innumerable miracles, this many hundreth ye­res approued and confirmed to be true, the bloud of so many sainctes haue witnessed the same: and the diuels with all the damned spiri­tes, so surely beleue the trouthe of Christes teachyng, that thei trim­ble and quake there. Bee not mo­ued with the common ensample of the hole worlde, though bothe spi­rituall and temporall men, though the pope with all his cardinals by­shoppes and priestes, thoughe the princes with all their gentilmē and subiectes magnifie, esteme, loue, [Page] norishe, and by all meanes cherish this life, yet beleue you the trouth, and thinke all the worlde faulse, where Christes saiyng agreeth not with that the worlde dothe. If it wer possible, that you sawe the an­gels of heauen liue contrary to the preachyng of Christe, yet againste theim all beleue the sonne of god, and loue not to abyde in this lyfe, whan Christe callethe you hense, make a final valure of this present pleasures, whan Christ saith all be vanitees, and maie bee tourned to endles sorowes: Regarde noo ho­noure, noo promocion here, whan Christe saith, the place of honour is in heauen, and here is none ad­uancement, that is not both shame, and also may be cause of a perpetu­all wretchednes. Dispise the ease and rest that theie riches bringeth, [Page 109] in as muche Christe saithe, that of them be taken many impedimentes and le [...]s to entre into the sure qui­etnes of blessed soules. Thinke no place to be for your abiding in this worlde, whan Christe saith, here is not your countrey, but your father and your dwelling place is in hea­uen. Hast therfore hense. This is to saie bee willinge to forsake this straunge countrey. And seyng the waie to your homewarde lieth by death, take a couragious stomacke to die, and die gladly, that you may die well. Beleue I saie Christ [...] and you shall thinke it painfull to be in this life. Beleue Christe and you shal be gredie to be partaker of the heauenly ioyes, whervpon will fo­lowe a pleasant remembraunce of deathe, by the whiche you shall de­parte from your paine to that ioye, [Page] the whiche you desire. And hereof is made a glad diyng, the whiche I still name a good diyng. Thus if we can take this feare a waie, we bee well forwarde, and hereof will easily ensue the reste, that is to die gladdely. It is a true saiyng, that who so euer feareth deathe, he shall neuer doo a dede woorthie for a ly­uing man. Therfore if it were but onely for lifes sake it is our part to dispise the feare of deathe.

¶Beside this feare of deathe,Loue of this lyfe. the loue (I saie) of this life sore hinde­reth the gladnes of diyng, no man dieth gladly, that estemeth muche this life. He that rekeneth in this worlde him selfe happie, whan he hathe gotten ryches, possessions, auctoritee, promocion a roial state, a prince like courte, abundaunce of welthie fare, a rule and power [Page 110] bothe to auaunce his frende, and to vndoo his foo: this man I saie that gloriethe in his fantasye for these and suche other thinges, can not but with muche sorowe depart hense. To this mans herte the re­membrance of death is a euer gre­uous thought, his minde can not but lament whan he seeth the neces­sitee to be pluckid and drawē from these commoditees, in the whiche resteth the ioye, pleasure and glad­nes of his minde, he hath soo sted­fastlie accustomed him selfe to take this worlde for heauen, that it will not synke in his braine, to hope of an other heauen: he hath so corrup­ted his taste with thinking this life to be swete, that nedes it must be a bytter thing to make an ende of all his pleasures, and in this case bee not onely thei that haue this world [Page] at their will, but also thei be in the same case that haue naughte, and be gredie of hauing. As muche lo­ueth he this worlde that woulde faine be riche, as he that is riche. It is not the hauing nor the lackynge of abundance in goodes, that ma­keth a sorowful hert in the remem­brance of death, but it is the minde that valureth and pondreth these presente goodes to bee of a greatte price, and worthie to be taried for. This minde I saie as wel in a communer, as in a kynge, as well in a yoman as in a lorde, as well in an hermite, monke, or frier, as in a marchant plowman or vacabund, as well in beggars, as in riche mē, is the thyng that causeth sorowe in diyng. And gladly no man dieth, that loueth the welthe of this life. Wherfore the learning to die well [Page 111] requireth necessarie a lesson, howe much the goodes of this worlde be worthie to be regarded. And let the truthe haue in your stomacke his place, so that if it be true, that the thinges of this life be worthy to be loued and to bee cared for: thanne loue you them and care for theim. If the truthe be other wise, change your minde, and nother loue these saied thinges, nor care for theim. Of the truth in this matter no mā can doubte, that beleueth Christe, whom if you thinke to be god, you muste also thinke it all trouth that he saithe. It can not bee otherwise than Christe testifieth, whose prea­ching euer exhorteth vs to wilfull pouertee, the whiche is nother to loue y^• goods of this world though we haue them nor to care for them, though we haue them not: onely [Page] by Christes teachynge we shoulde care for the kingdom of heuen, the whiche standethe in the cleanes of conscience, where euer is a place and a seate for the hie maiestee of the holy trinitee. All other thinges necessarie for this life be not to bee cared for, nor yet to bee valured more than their dignitees requi­reth: that is to saie, no more than is conueniente for instrumentes and tooles to the pylgrimage and passage of this straunge countrey. For in this worlde wee haue noo home, our father dwellethe not in this region we be in this life out of our propre countrey, we shuld hast homewarde to the ioyfull presence of our owne father, that abidethe vs in heauen, the whiche hathe a greatter charge ouer vs his chil­dren here, than he hathe ouer the [Page 112] beastes or birdes, the which by his only prouision without their care, lacketh nothing for their necessitie. Muche more (saithe oure maister Christ) if we tourned al our care to godward, we shuld not be destitute of suche thinges as necessarily this presente life nedethe. And where Christ so streightly commaundeth almes dedes, saiyng, that who soe­uer helpeth not a poore man in his nede, he will not helpe him nor yet knowe hym at the fearefull daie of dome, in so muche that it pleaseth Christ to say, that euery poore man representeth the person of goddes son, so that he that regardeth not a poore man, dispiseth the son of god. In this doctrine what thinke you? Whether dothe Christ commaund almes deades for the poore mans sake, that shoulde take almes, or [Page] for the riche mans sake, that shuld giue almes? In takynge almes I fynde noo vertue and nedes it is a thing partainyng to vertue, that Christ wolde haue done. Therfore surely it is for the riche mans sake. For it is Christes lesson, that tea­cheth vs to haue noo inwarde loue to these casuall good [...]s, the whiche we muste put from vs, where we se them that want such thinges. And a profe of a perfect stomacke is ta­ken in him, that vtterlie leauethe and forsaketh al this worlde to fo­lowe Christe: the whiche byddeth the riche man, that wil be perfecte, to go and sell all that he hath, and deale all to poore men. For as hard a thing it is to plucke through the smale nedles e [...]e a greatte caboull rope, as to bringe a riche man in at heauens wycket: not that it is im­possible [Page 113] for a rich man to be saued, but because it is harde for a man in a welthy state to kepe his minde in a due order to godwarde, without beyng drowned or infected by the contagious lustes and corrupted pleasures, the whiche foloweth the fortunate life of this worlde. And nothinge is more in a riche man to be feared, than lest he set his minde to loue his riches, the whiche loue can neuer stande with the pleasure of god. Remembre the saiyng of the apostell sainct Paule: The loue of riches is the rote of all sin. Ther­fore let not this loue grow in your herte, from whense shoulde spring the fruite of damnacion. Here of my frende Walker, I trust you se, that withoute question it is Chri­stes will to haue vs littell regarde this life, and muche lesse to regarde [Page] all the commoditees appertayn­ninge to this life. It is god that saithe, The losynge of life in this worlde, is the findyng of life in a nother worlde: and that wepyng, sorowe, peine, tribulacion, pouer­tee, shame, persecucion, and final­ly deathe in this life, is laughing, ioye, pleasure, ease, riches honour, quietnes, and fynally life, in the kyngdome of god.

¶Contrarie the same maister te­stifieth, that mirthe, welthe, reste, glorie, abundaunce, strengthe, li­bertee, rule, and finally life in this worlde, is lamentyng, grefe, trou­ble, slaunder, miserie, weakenes, thraldome, bondage, and finally deathe in goddes reigne. In this tenour and key sowneth al our ho­ly scripture. Wherfore me thinke it is enough to proue to a Christe­ned [Page 114] man, that the welthye state of this worlde is vayne and ieoper­dous, because Christe so teachethe and precheth, and surely a greater profe by reson for this matter with you I will not use at this time. Let Christe bee beleued, that biddethe you gether a treasure in heauen, where your riches shall be sure frō mothes, wormes, and rusting, from theues, fier, and water. If your treasure be ones couched in heuen, streighte your herte shall also bee there: and so shal you take no plea­sure of tariyng in this life, but ra­ther it shalbe werines and tedious­nes to you to be here absente frome your hertes desire, the whiche al­waie sticketh and cleaueth to your treasure in heauen, If it so be that after Christes counsaile you haue there put all your goodes and sub­staunce. [Page] If nother we feare deathe nor loue this life. I thinke the chefe impedimentes and lettes of oure purpose to die wel, be taken awaie, and nowe we maie a littell deuise, what thinge maie helpe vs in our iourney after these stones and bloc­kes be gone.

¶In my minde nothing shal fur­ther vs more to a glad death,What furdreth most glad deth. than shall an ordinate life, that is to liue in a iuste and due maner after one rule and one forme, euer awake in a quicke remembrance of death, as though euery houre were our laste space of induraunce in this world. Whan you rise in the morning, de­termine so to passe the daie folow­yng as thoughe at nyghte a graue shulde be your bed. Let euery daie be reckened with you as your last.

This minde shall make you be­stow [Page 115] wel your life, the whiche is to you vncertaine, howe long it shall continue: ye rather in doubte you be, howe sone or howe shortely life shall be taken from you. What so euer you take in hande be thinke you, that before you ende it, death maie oppresse you workyng. This is the thing that Christ wold haue vs do, whan he soo often warneth and admonisheth vs to take heede and to loke aboute vs, because no­ther the daie nor the houre of our callynge is certaine to vs. There­fore it is our parte, of a tyme soo muche vncertaine to make a tyme sure, certaine, and present, that we neuer bee taken vnwares: by the whiche meanes we shall gladdely suffer death seeyng it is a thing so longe before prepared. For whye shulde it be a straunge thing to re­ken [Page] euery daie to be the laste? I see not but that thing, that happeneth and chanseth to some of vs, might come to any of vs, and like wise all might haue that that a fewe hath. There is no cause to denie, but as well this daie you or I might die, as we se this daie some other deed: and thoughe we bee not deed this daie, yet it is trouth that this daie we die, and daiely sithen our firste byrthe we haue died, in as muche that daiely some parte of our life, hath bene diminisshed, and euer as we haue growen, so euer life hath decresed. We were babes, we were children, we were boyes, we were young men, all these ages be loste, and tyll yesterdaie all tyme past is gone and lost. This same selfe da [...]e that we nowe liue, is deuided and parted with death. Still without [Page 116] ceassing we approche to deathe by the expence and wast of life. Thus diyng we alwaie be, though death [...]e not alwaie vpon vs. Conceyue thā this ordinate life in your mind, and bestowe your time whilest you haue the time. Aboue all thinges flee idelnes, the whiche is a thing bothe to the bodie and to the soule, like a kankeryng rustines, and as an eatyng consumpcion, it wasteth to naught both vertue & strength. A man the whiche is in the life that you be, may sone be corrupted with this contagion of idelnes, if he bee not well ware, and diligentely en­force him selfe to the contrarie. For I se you haue a maister so affectio­nate and giuen to you, that he will nother suffer you lacke any thinge mete for your helth or q̄etnes, but also he had rather for [...]ere his own [Page] commoditees, than for his seruice you shulde be disquietted: So ten­der he is in all poyntes ouer you, that if you pōder well his state and your own condicion you shall find your life better defended frome all stormes againste the mindes reste, than your maisters condicion is. He is in suche a sight of the world, tha [...] necessarilie his studie and care must moue him to satisfy the great expectacion, that his hole countrey hath of his towardenes. And for­tune one the tother side, is soo con­trary to him, that nedes he must by wisedome procure, with no smalle thought, howe he maie in penurie maintaine the outward face of his reputacion: so that for your quiet­nes his minde often labourethe, where you maie doo what you will withoute feare of the worldes dis­pleasure, [Page 117] without feare of lackyng or not hauing enough for your ne­cessaries, and muche more than ne­cessitee requirethe. Labour haue you none, but that maie be rather taken for a pastyme, thoughte to please your maister you neede not take, in as much you maie be assu­red, that he can not nor will not for the time of his life chaunge his af­fection towarde you. Therfore I saie it maie be feared in one of your state leste idelnes shoulde brede a foule slouens neste, the which were enoughe to distroye all lustines of vertue, and to make you long deed and buried in this worlde, before life forsakethe you. For my good Iohn̄, I will haue you knowe and remembre, that idelnes is called the graue of liuinge men: it is the thing, wherin life dieth, and ther­by [Page] your soule is twyse buried in you, ones in your bodie, nexte in your slouth. The which vice in ser­uing men moste reighneth, and the same is roote of many vnthryftie thoughtes, whervpon foloweth a worse idelnes than the tother is. For it is an euill idelnes to do noo thyng, but a worse idelnes it is to do not well. Suche an euill felow saincte Chrisostomus calleth a dis­solatyng, or a boide baiting place, where into the diuell entreath, as in to his own house by good right. For where vertue is not exercised, there the ennemy of grace claimeth his rule, it is not now my purpose to shewe what you shulde do, that you might not only f [...]e idelnes, but also be well occupied. This were a matter enough for a nother worke. I haue my entente at this time, if [Page 118] you see that death is not to bee fea­red, and that by continuall remem­braunce of deathe, you shall pre­paire your selfto die gladly with a good will: the whiche you can not do, oneles you be in hope of the e­u [...]rlastyng life, and this hope re­quireth some truste in the clenes of a good conscience, the whiche euer foloweth a gracious enten [...]e of li­uing well So that if you liue wel, you shall die well. And of the waie to liue wel you can not misse, if you arme your minde to bee stronge a­gainst all suddennes of deth. Praie euer continually without cessinge you muste: but what is this conti­nuall praier I wolde you learned. For of praier it is but one final por­cion, the saiyng of psalmes or ax­yng with wordes of god his grace, the b [...]raie praier is to be euer well [Page] minded, to bee euer in charitee, to haue euer the honour of god in re­membraunce to suffer no rancore, none ire, no wrathe, no malice, no synne to abide in your delite, but to be in a continuall good thoughte, the whiche you maie kepe whether you sleepe or wake, whether you eate or drinke, whether you feast or fast, whether you reste or labour, & neuer paraduenture you can praie better, than whan you muste giue your selfe to serue your maister, to whom the course of your life is due and bounden specially whan god hath giuen you such a maister, whome your seruice can not please without you be studious to please god. For well you se, that without vertue your seruice weere to your maister an vnsauerie thing but (as I haue said) it is not now my pur­pose [Page 119] to apoynte you the waie of li­uinge well: if you haue harde e­noughe to die well, I haue for my part now saied enough, and short­lie by the same you shall of yourself without further helpe finde the waie to liue wel. Now that by this I thinke my promisse fulfilled, I will at this point bed you farewel. And I praie god giue you a strong corage to passe valiantly through death, to come from thense to euer­lastyng life, by the helpe and grace of our maister and sauiour Christe, to whome let vs for euer more render al glorie praise, and honour. Amen. At Paris the .x. day of Ianuarie.