THey say, it is a point of a prowde vanitie, or a stubburne foly, to kepe sure and certaine, whatsomeuer is ons sayde, always, it semeth not to wise men, that a promis shulde be sticked by, in as moche there maye chaunce greater causes to breke a promys, then the reasons be, why promisse shulde be performed. As if I haue sayd, that I wyll suppe with you: hit is not inoughe to bynde me a­gaynste all chaunces. I may fall sycke, I may haue at home some necessary impediment, the wether may so fal, that it is no going out, many casualties may happen, that were not in mynde, whan such pro­mysse was made. Wherfore wyse men say, in all makyng of promes, there be euer vnderstonde some se­crete [Page] exceptions, such as be these: If I can, If I maye, If it be con­uenient, If no greater cause hap­pen to let me. By the whiche excep­tions, a promes neuer byndeth a man ferther, than is accordinge to be obserued and kepte.

¶If I thought (my frende Iohn̄ Walker) that you wold take myne excuse by the sayde exceptions, I wold rather by them escape my promesse, that I haue made to you, than I wold fulfyl it. For whan I sodenlye agreed to your requeste, that was to haue me write to you the way of dyenge well: I consy­derid not at that tyme, what the thynge was. After I percey­ued more difficulte in it, then was mete for my poore witte, specially beynge (as you maye see me) other wise occupied, in such studies as [Page 3] appertayne to my leasure: and of shortly this lesson to lerne the way of dyenge well, hath nede to haue a mayster, the whiche knowethe both what our life is, and what the losse of the same is. Nor no man in mynde can effectuously teache the way to dye well, excepte he be one that knoweth the way to lyue wel. And plainely the mater requi­reth a philosophers stomake and a sadde. For suche a one as Marcus Cato was, were a man mete to en­trete this thynge: he knewe what valure ley in deathe, the whiche he sought bothe with swerde, and his nayles, tearynge out his owne bo­welles.

¶I wolde thynke a Catulus or a Mercula shoulde speake lustely to you of dethe, seinge they shewed theyr couragious harte nothynge [Page] to esteme life, when the time required, eyther to dye with honour, or to lyue with shame. These men and suche other wolde shewe you the waye to go to deathe, longe before death came to you. But none of all the paynymes canne eyther with worde or with ensamples of theyr actes declare this thynge so trewly and effectually, as may he that is exercised in Christes philo­sophye, a Paule, or a Peter, or a Hierom shulde here in speke more lyuely, than al y^e subtyl clerkes of the olde grekes. Yet to me, for my parte, it is an harde thyng, eyther to play with you one of this sorte, or of that sorte. It passeth my po­wer to speake to you eyther lyke Socrates, or lyke Chrysostome. So that if the sayde exceptions be with you admittid in a promis makynge, [Page 4] I may trewely denye you the performaunce of, my graun­tinge, in as moche when I promi­sed you this thynge, there was vnderstandyd, if I coulde, & if it were conuenient: I nother can well de­clare this waye of dyenge, nor yet me thynke, it is not conuenient for me, lyuyng in this commen course of the worldely folke, to speake of deth so ernestly, as a monke of the Charter house shoulde and myght do. But by cause I knowe your importune desire, to be so set vpon this thyng, y^t nedes you wyll haue me say somewhat herein: I wyll praye you so to rede me, as the tale not onely to be wrytten of me for you, but that I my selfe am also an auditor of the same, and as moche shall I enforce to folowe the counsayle, that in my sayenge I [Page] aduyse you, as thoughe the hole worke pertayned only to my selfe. Wherin take this note for your comfortes, that I write nothynge to you, that I wyshe not were in my owne power to execute. Thus I with you, and you with me both of vs fast yoked to gethers, let vs endeuour our selfes to be in dede suche men as we commende and prayse. For as it is shame to speke one thinge and to thinke an other, so it is a more shame to write holy­ly and to lyue worldlye. And as great a rebuke there is in him that can here and praise good sayinges but doo there after he wyll not.

Now than let vs not speke only of the way to dye well, but in effecte let vs indeuer our mindes to haue the frute of this lesson, to make in dede a good ende of our lyfe. And [Page 5] here nowe withoute any ferther proces I wyll begynne to pay you my dette, and shortelye you shall knowe my mynde howe you maye dye well.

¶As I was bethynkynge me, to wryte some thyng of this mater to the satisfyinge of your desyre, I torned a boke, where my memorie gaue me, to be a story of one called Canius, that lyued vnder the ty­rante Caligula Cesar. This Ca­nius beside his hye lernyng was a man of a great spirite, the whiche he wel declared in the maner of taking his deth. It chansed hym to falle out for a certayne cause with the sayde tyrante, and many sore wordes were betwene them: at the laste whan the tone was depar­tynge from the tother, this empe­rour in his fierse ire sayde: Well [Page] thou fole, make mery if thou wylt, for I haue poynted the within few dayes to be slayne. Therat Cani­us turned him with lowe courtesy and sayd: My most gentill prince I hartely thanke you.

¶This answere came from a no­ble stomacke, whereby he shewed the mad ragis of the cruell tyrant to be so ferre intollerable, that vn­der hym dethe was to be reckened for a benefit and a good tourne: wherfore he thanked hym for his offer, as for a specyall rewarde. And great merueil men had to be­hold this Philosopher, howe me­ry he was after this tyrantes thre­tenynge. There were .x. dayes gy­uen of respite, before he shuld dye, the whiche tyme he so passed, that he neuer semed to be in lesse care, nor to haue his mynde in better [Page 6] quietnes.

¶Whan the daye came of exe­cution, the kinges geyler & hang­manne wente abowte the towne with a greatte companye of them that shoulde suffer death, the whi­che passing by this Canius house, they called hym to be broughte al­so forth amongest the other, at the whiche tyme Canius was play­inge atte the chestes with one of his companions, and hearynge theym make haaste, he rose and telled his men, sayinge to his companion: Loke nowe that after my deathe you lye not, nor make no false crakes, that you haue wonne this game. There with also he be­kenid to the gailer and sayde: I pray you bere witnes, that I haue one man in this game more than my felowe hath.

[Page] ¶In this wyse this philosopher playde with deathe, and shorte­ly his quiete harte gaue a foule checke mate to the tyrantes cruel­tie: he shewed hym selfe to be in spirite as farre aboue all kynges violente power, as these myghtye princes thynke to haue a stronge dominon ouer all theyr subiectes. The frendis and familiars of this philosopher were very sorowfull, bewaylynge the losse of suche a man, to whome: what meane you quod he? Why be you sadde?

Why mourne you for me? Is hit not your study to knowe, whether the soule of man be mortall or im­mortalle? The trouthe of this harde question I nowe shal lerne: and nowe shall I see the trouthe of all our dowtes of heuen and of god.

[Page 7] ¶Thus talkynge with his fren­des he came to the place of execu­tion, and there a lyttell, whylest other were hedded, he stode styll in a musynge dumpte. What thinke you now good Canius, quod one of his frendes? Whervpon nowe muse you so ernestly? Mary (quod he) I haue determynedde with my selfe to marke wel, whether in this short pange of death my soule shal perceyue and feele, that he goeth oute of my body. This poynte I fully entende to take hede of: and if I can, I wyll surely brynge you and the reste of my felowes word, what I felte, and what is the state of our soules.

¶Here was a wonderful caulme stomake in y^e myddest of so stormy a tempest, this mans mynde was worthye of an euer lastynge lyfe, [Page] that was not onely to the deathe studious of knowlege, but also in the selfe death founde occasion of lernynge. It was not possyble for any mannes mynde to conty­nue his studye longer, or to a fer­ther poynte than this noble philo­sopher dyd.

¶This story and certayne other lyke, maken me often to reason with my selfe, what a strength of knowlege is in mannes brayne, to serche and to fynde by hym selfe the truthe, if he enforce his wittes to lerne. For this Canius & many other were not taught of Christe, as we now be, they had not the ru­les of faythe, the whiche shewe the vndoubtefulle waie to come to the perfyghte knowelege of all preuy misteres, they were not comforted with the preachyng of god­des [Page 8] sonne to sette lyttel by this life as we nowe be. They were not plucked to conceyue a loue of ver­tue aboue nature: as the holy scripture draweth vs from this worlde to the beholding of an other place, wher vertu receiueth her crowne. Wherfore to me hit is no smalle cause of marueiling, when I here suche ensamples of naturall men, that by them selfe coulde in suche a maner rise aboue theyr nature, in settynge lyttell by that thynge, that naturallye euerye creature mooste abhorreth and feareth (for deathe is the thynge that in this worlde by nature is made mooste doubtfull, moste terrible, most heynous, and most worthy to be fered, to be eschewed, and by al meanes, ways, gynnes, or crafte to be esca­ped) To here then a natural man, [Page] without the teching of god, to rise vp in his phantasie aboue nature, to iudge of death farre other wyse than nature teacheth hym, to dis­pise the durance in this lyfe, when he knoweth no certaynte of none other worlde, to vse the strength & myght of the spirite ageynste the puisant power of all tyrantes: It semeth to me a wonderful thynge, & more wonderfull the same shuld be, if I sawe not written in holy scripture, howe that frome the fyrste creation of Adam, the good­nes of god hath ben so greatte to­warde mankynde, that he hathe gyuen vs alway sufficiente grace, to knowe the ryghte, to se the hye maiestie of vertue, to fynd out the trewe dignite of the soule, to per­ceyue the vanyte of this presente lyfe, and fynally to vnderstonde [Page 9] wherin stondethe the pleasure of god, and wherin standeth his dis­pleasure. Euer by goddes mere goodnes man knewe what was well to be done, and what was contrarye yuelle to be done. It is a lawe written in the harte of man with the fynger of god in our cre­ation, to be enduced by reason to praise alway vertue, and to thinke synne worthye of disprayse. The mynde of man hath a grace to see farther than the bodye syghte can attayne to, the mynde of man fe­leth more subtyllye than our fyue wyttes can aproche to, the losse of bloudde or of breth is a smalle tri­fell in the myndes consideration, when the mynde vsethe his owne clere syghte, and is not blynded with the darkenesse of the bodye, the whcihe stomblethe atte euerye [Page] strawe in this worlde. Euery mot choketh a worldly man. [...]orld­ [...] [...]an. Euery li­tel sownde maketh a worldly man trimble and shake. I call a world­ly man him that giueth al his care to vse his wittes in this worlde, that creapeth vpon suche thynges as be sene, harde, felte, tasted, and smelte, that clymeth not in no con­sideration aboue the myste of this valeye. The mooste parte of men euer haue bene of this weake sorte and yet stylle the mooste parte of men is the same. This worlde e­uer hathe his multitude, that ho­noreth, worshippeth, and magni­fieth nothynge besyde this shorte lyfe, and those thynges that per­tayne to this lyfe. Yet ageyn euer hath there benne some and stylle there be some, that playe the phi­losophers, the whiche studied [Page 10] to knowe the dignities and wor­thynesses of euery thynge, howe moche it shoulde be estemed, valu­rid, or regarded of vs, the whiche labourith to pycke oute in euerye thynge what is good and what is noughte.Spirit [...] men. Men of this sorte be called spiritualle menne. For you muste knowe, that a tayl­lour, a shomaker, a carpenter, a boote man, withoute bothe lear­nynge and orders, maye be spiri­tuall, whenne a mayster of arte, a doctour of diuinitie, a deane, a bi­shop bothe with his cunninge and dignities may be temporall, seing the trewe diffinition of a spiritual man is to be one, in whome the mynde and spirite chefelye ruleth. Lyke wyse the temporall man is he,Tempo­rall me [...] ▪ in whome this present tyme of this traunsitorye lyfe hath mooste [Page] rome. Thus I saye spiritualle men haue euer sene the trouthe, to ponder and valure euery-thyng in this worlde accordyngely. And as to the temporalle mynde no­thynge semeth sweter than to lyue here, so the spiritual mynd fyndeth swetenes in deathe, by the whiche this lyfe endeth. For lyke as the prince of this worlde neuer agre­ethe with god, nor yet the bodye with the soule, nor the erthe with heuyn: so he that studieth for this tyme, hath clene contrary opini­ons to hym that foloweth the spi­ryte. And as the temporalle man saythe, hit is a pleasante thynge to lyue here, and a bytter thynge it is to dye: so the spirituall man thynketh it a bytter time to indure the space of this life, & moch ioy he conceyueth by the ryddance of the [Page 11] soule from the heauye burden of this body.

¶Of these contrarye opinyons yo ushall lesse maruayle, when we haue a lyttell considered the thyng it selfe, what shoulde be death, the whiche one parte of vs so moche feareth, and an other sorte setteth so lyttell by the same: and so by a shorte processe you shall see, whe­ther the sayde Canius be more worthy of prayse for his lyttell re­gardyng the deedly punyshement than is Frances Philippe,Franci [...] Philip. that within fewe yeres passed was put to execution with vs for treason, the whiche dyed so cowardelye, in soo greatte panges of feare, that he semed extracte from his wittes, scante for quaking and trymbling the wreche coulde speke one word. The fewe wordes that he coulde [Page] with moche stutterynge sownde, were only in the declaration of his dispayre, nor nothynge was sene nor harde of hym, but wepynge, lamentynge, wryngynge of his handes, with bannynge the houre and day of his byrthe, contynual­ly sighinge, as thoughe his harte shulde haue burste for sorowe.

The difference of these affectes wyll hereafter be (I thynke) play­ner to you, whan we haue a lyttell more spoken in this matter. For nowe good Iohn̄, I wyll crepe a lyttell nygher to your desyre, the whiche you haue, of lernynge the way to dye well.

¶THIS DIENGE well is in effecte to dye gladlye. [...]o dye [...]yll. For who so euer dyeth gladlye, he departethe frome this lyfe in a sure hope to lyue ageyne, beynge nowe wery [Page 12] 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 harte to dye. Onles he be one that hath li­ued well here. For in death there can be no gladnes, excepte therbe a full truste of opteynynge the re­warde of vertue, partelye by the truste and fayth of a good mynde, partely by the mercye of god, that fulfilleth euer our insufficiency, yf we bring ought with vs worthi of his fauour. For goddes grace supplieth, where our power lacketh, if hit so be that our soules appere before him in an apparell mete for his presence, the whiche apparelle requireth a perfecte faith, and an ernest wyl of doing wel, al though we haue not alwaye done well.

The mercye of god neuer failethe [Page] hym, that fully trusteth in it: But a full truste, can not be withoute the strength of charite, the whiche euer burneth in the loue of doinge good: & faithe can not be perfect, onles there be good workes, y^e whiche maye stur vp and quycken in vs faythe to take a beleue, that by Christes actes our final demerites may growe to be perfecte. Thus a chereful harte, beset with fayth, hope, and charitie, taketh no pen­sifulnes in the remembraunce of deathe, but rather it reioysethe to remembre, that by deathe it shall passe to lyfe, neuer more to dye.

Wherfore to dye well euer, is to dye gladly, eyther to be ridde from the bondes of this prison, or to op­teyne the lybertye of heuen: bothe wayes commeth from a good lyfe passed: so that surely no man can [Page 13] dye well, that lyueth not well, for euer deth is a sorowfull thynge to the yuell lyuer, by cause he hathe nothynge to laye before the mercy of god, whervppon he maye 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 maye lette vs to be gladde of deathe, and what wyll brynge vs to a desire of dyenge gladlye, we shalle by the same pycke oute the waye to dye well. For in my mynde these .ii. be allwayes one, to dye well, and to dye gladly.

¶The gladde desyre of dyinge is letted chefely by two thynges:Two l [...] ­tes to d [...] gladly. one by the feare of deathe, the tother by the loue of this lyfe. The tone of these foloweth the tother. For he that loueth this lyfe, feareth to [Page] dye: and he that fearethe to dye, loueth this lyfe. Yet we may speke of eche parte by him selfe, and first lette vs assaye the greatteste, the whiche is the feare of death: than nexte after we will come to the to­ther, the which is the loue of this lyfe. If these two blockes be ta­ken out of our stomakes, we shall fynde an easye and a playne waye to the ende of our pourpose. For who someuer nother fereth to die, nor loueth to tary in this lyfe, he is redye alwaye to dye gladdely. But to performe my promis, lette me say somwhat of the sayde feare and loue.

¶Fyrste and chefely the feare of death takethe awaye all gladnesse of dyinge, and therby after myne opinyon, no man that dyeth fere­fully can dye well: so that to lerne [Page 14] the waye of dyenge well we muste lerne the way to die without feare. And yet howe I shulde proue, that death is not to be feared, I canne not well telle, seinge the hole po­wer of nature sheweth, that of all thynges death is moost fearefull: and to reason ageynste nature, it were parauenture not soo harde as vaine. For what canne reason preuayle, if nature resiste? It is a thynge to farre aboue mans po­wer to stryue or to wrastelle with nature, her strengthe passeth the myghte of our wyll, what helpe someuer we take of reason or of auctoritie: nother counsayle nor commandement hath place, where nature dothe her vttermooste. It is none excuse to saye, that menne feare deathe bycause they be lothe to leaue the commodities of this [Page] lyfe, or by cause they feare the threteninges of purgatorie and of hel, or els bycause they thynke apon the sore paineful panges, the whi­che be in the tyme of deathe. Nay these thinges make not chefely the feare of dying, it may well be that of suche thynges the feare is in­creased and made more fulle, but there is a feare byfore and by­syde all these thynges, the whiche feare nature (I say) gyueth, as it is wel sene in yonge chyldern, that haue no remembraunce nother of this lyfe, nor of the deadely pan­ges, nor of heuen, purgatorye, or helle. Whan we in sport threten to caste them heedlynge out at some hye wyndowe, they quake, trym­ble, and ware pale, shewyng playn and euident tokens of a naturall feare towarde dethe. And though [Page 15] by lernynge, or by a curragious mynde, somme fewe amongest vs, seme lyttell or nothynge to be mo­ued with dethe: yet thensample of these fewe can not take awaye the trouthe, that nature in all the reste worketh. For howe many be there that onely to eschewe deathe suffre all wretchednes, all beggarie, all payne▪ in pyckynge vp crommes of nouryshement to abyde a while in this lyght: And the more sham­fully, that men for the moste parte feare to dye, the greatter proffe there is, that suche extreme poyn­tes of fere agaynst all shame shuld not in so many daily appere, whan dethe approcheth, onles by nature some iuste feare were of the same. For as the excesse of feare cometh by weakenes of harte and lacke of stomake, the which is worthy to be [Page] rebuked for shamefull cowardnes: so there is a meane measure offere in dethe, that may be reckened ho­nest and iuste, bycause nature ma­keth it necessary.

Loke you howe bothe olde and newe stories kepe in memory their names that appered to dye with­out feare: as who saye, it is to be wrytten for a wonder and lyke to a myracle, beinge a thynge besyde the course of nature, to here of a man that can in deathe ouer come the passion of feare, as we wonder to here of some that lyue withoute sustinance of meate or of drynke. Bycause I saye hit is a naturalle thinge to feare dethe, we greattely meruayle of them that feare it not. Yet reason saythe, we shoulde not feare that thynge, the whiche we know not, & only yuel is worthy to [Page 16] be feared. But seinge we knowe not dethe, we may well by reason doubt, whether it be yuell or good. And nowe before we speake anye more of feare, let vs a lyttell con­syder dethe by it selfe, what thyng it is of his owne nature, and whe­ther by it selfe it be good or yuell.

¶We calle ones dethe the losyng a sonder and departyng of .ii. thin­ges, What de [...] is. the soule from the bodye: the whiche departyng no man can es­cape, but necessarilye dye all we muste that be borne in this worlde. When the body by any violence lo­seth his sensis, and is spoiled from the quicke vse of his principal par­tes, than departeth the soule from hym: and in maner the bodye lea­ueth the soule, before the soule lea­uethe the bodye. For it is not the soule by hym selfe that goeth from [Page] the body, but it is the body by his forsakynge lyfe, that causethe the soule to departe. For where lyfe is not, there the soule canne not a­byde: and as the body is liuely be­fore the soule entereth, so the same dody is deadly before the soule de­parteth. Bloudde in his measure and temperance betwene cold and hotte, kepeth lyfe in the body: the which bloud by innumerable wais of chanses may be altered and constrayned to leaue his nouryshyng, whervpon shall insue the losse of lyfe, and than streighte after folo­weth the soules goinge away. For well you knowe, that the soule is one thynge, [...]he soule. and lyfe is an other. Wheresomeuer the soule is, [...]he lyfe. there is lyfe. But it is not trewe, that where someuer lyfe is, there is the soule. For trees and herbes haue a [Page 18] parte of life, and a more parte of lyfe is in muskylles, oysters, and wormes: yet a more perfect lyfe is in these bestes and birdes, the whiche haue amongeste theym some more some lesse of lyfes perfetnes. But thoughe in theym lyfe, the whiche resteth in the vse of the sensis, that be to here, to see, to fele, to smelle, to taste, and in swyfte mo­uynge is a great worke of lyfe, the which thynges I say, though they be in the perfection amongist these beastes: yet the hande of god hath not gyuen to any creature lyuyng in the erthe water or ayre, to haue besyde lyfe a soule: the whiche is a thynge formed after his lykenes, sauynge onely to man, whome he hath putte here to rule ouer thyn­ges created, lyke as he reuleth in heuen ouer al. It is the creatours [Page] wyl, that nothynge in this worlde shall haue a soule, but man alone: the which soule bringeth with him the vse of reason, a thynge that may teache vs bothe that we haue a soule, and that god is he the whiche hathe thus made vs to be in this worlde his chiefe and mooste excellent creature. Reason dothe thus teache vs, yet besyde reason we be herein better instructed by our mayster the son of god, so that nowe we can not doubt, that in vs is a thynge, the whiche canne not dye. But of suretie we euidently se, not onely by reason, but moche better by belefe, that the ymage of god in vs is perpetuall & can not not feale any corruption, oneles suche as our frowarde wyll maye gyue, wherof groweth synne, that is the lyuynge dethe of the soule. [Page 17] But lette vs comme to our mat­tier.

¶To speake of this bodyly deth we nowe haue a greatte fordell in comparison of some olde clerkes, that were in doubte, whither there was in man any soule besyde lyfe, more than is in an horse or a gose. They were in doubt whether any thynge of manne remayned after dethe, that myght fele or perceyue eyther ioy or peyne. For as to the faynyng poetes, that spake of de­licious gardins for good spirites, and of dyuers sore turmentes for vngracious sowles after this life, most part of the olde clerkes gaue no maner of credence: and they that beleued other an heuen or an hell, to be ordeyned for mens sow­les, yet they so beleued, that moch doubtfulnes was in theyr belefe, [Page] in asmoch as their reason suffised not to fynde oute the certeyntie of goddis workes. From the whiche doubtis the vnfallible doctrine of Christe hath now delyuered vs al, so that as many as wyll gyue eare to the voyce of god, they can not mistruste their knowlege, but that without question bothe we haue a soule, and the same soule is im­mortall, a thynge that neyther in this worlde nor out of this worlde can peryshe or feale any poynte of deth, to lacke by the same any iote of his beinge. I saye oure soules contynually without ende shall e­uermore endure, the which be cre­ated and made by god after the forme of god. What fourme that is, it is as harde to shew as it pas­seth our capacitie to knowe what god is, whose shappe and facion [Page 20] our soules beareth.

¶Nowe than what shall we saye of dethe? 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, beynge after lyfe lyke to a stone, that neuer had lyfe.Wheth [...] deth [...] selfe b [...] good [...] yuel. This change of the bodies state, whether by hit selfe hit be good or yuelle, it is an harde thyng for vs to iuge, seing the trowth is, that no man lyuing expertlye knoweth what thynge deathe is: and to determyne of a thynge vnknowen, hit semeth a presumption full of folye. Ther­fore without any certayne deter­mination, we maye for oure ler­nyng debate with reson the thing, as moche as shalbe within the bondes of our capacytye,Death not go [...] and fyrste if deathe were by hym selfe good, it [Page] shoulde be no trespace for one man to kyll hym selfe or an other. For in gyuynge to other a good thyng or in takynge to our selfe a good thynge, can be no rebuke. Where the dede is good, there is well do­ynge in the doer: But euer, not onely by Christes teachynge, but also by natural reson manslaugh­ter hath bē iuged an abhominable synne. Wherfore it canne not be, that by hym selfe death is a good thyng. And ageyne an yuel thing it is not. [...]athe is [...] yuel. For Chryste dyed wyl­lyngely, the whiche wyll in god and goddes sonne coulde not haue consented to dethe, if deathe hadde ben a thynge of his owne nature yuelle. Nor yet hit coulde not be, that vertue shoulde be praysed in the gladde sufferynge of deathe as nowe be crowned in heuen many [Page 19] holye marters, the whiche coura­gyouselye toke vppon theym the deathe. And surely it shoulde not be the naturalle ende of mannes course in this life, if it were a thīg, by it selfe nawght. For yuell ma­grye mans hedde, is neuer put to him, as it shulde be yf deathe were yuell: the whiche necessaryly man is constrayned to suffre.Death [...] nother good n [...] yuell. Therfore it semeth true, that death conside­red alone by hit selfe, is nother good nor yuell. But when we here of dyinge wel or dying yuell, or of a good deathe or an yuel death: it is not deathe by it selfe that is spo­ken of, but rather the circumstan­ces, the maner, the fashyon, the cause of deathe, or that goeth be­fore death, or that foloweth dethe. These be the thynges that gyueth and taketh this name of goodnes [Page] or yuelnes, As to saye that death is good, by cause hit endethe this synnefull lyfe, and is the meane to passe frome this worlde to heuen: or els when we saye, that Iudas dyed an yuel death, it is not ment that the departing of Iudas soule from the bodye was yuell, but the maner of his dyeng, was the yuel thynge, his cursed desperation, his dampnable mystruste of goddes mercye, his dispitefull refusynge grace, made his deathe yuell. The two theues, he at the ryght hand, and he at the lefte, bothe dyed one kynde of deathe, bothe nayled to crosses, both worthy for their tres­paces: yet it is trouthe, that the tone died wel in a good deth, the tother dyed naught in an yuel deth, not for the dethe by it selfe, wherin was no difference, but for the di­uersitie [Page 22] of their .ii. myndes in ta­kynge of deathe. The tone repented hym, and asked mercy, wherof he died graciously, the tother con­tynued in his blasphemynge god, the whiche stubburne stomacke in synne caused hym to dye vngra­ciously. It is a thynge that folo­weth dethe, and is not in dethe it selfe, whervpon we loke, when we iuge to be a good ende or an yuel. For by the maner of hym that dy­eth, we coniecture the state and cō ­dition of the soule: the whiche yf we fynd in our fantasie to be in an yuelle case, as in the daunger of goddis curse, we call deathe yuel, wherby the soule passed to come to suche sorowe. And contrarye, yf we thynke the soule to be in the fa­uour of god, or to be redye to take mercy, we call deth good, the whi­che [Page] conueyde the soule to his blys. So that by it selfe deathe remay­neth indifferent to be iudged of di­uers considerations, other a good ende or an yuel ende.

¶Nowe than we may here say, he that feareth deathe,o feare ath. sheweth hym selfe to be in doubte of his soules state, or els to be certayne that his soule is in goddis curse. The whi­che ferefull mynde is in them that haue so passed this presente lyfe, that eyther they haue doone no­thinge, wherby they may hope to be rewarded in heuen: or els they haue done so vngratiously, that they can haue no trust of escaping damnable punyshement, specially yf he be a christened man. For yf he be not christened, and feareth to dye, he declareth hym selfe to haue none hygher thought of lyfe, than [Page 21] the dumbe beastes haue, the whi­che make by the lawe of nature so moche of their lyfes, that they can mynde nothynge besyde, and the losse of their bloode maketh with them an hoole conclusion of their beinge. Wherfore beastes may iu­stly flye and feare deathe, as the worste thynge that can happen to their state: but a man dothe hym selfe to moch wronge, if he thynke hym selfe in no better condicion than be these beastes. It is not in the dyuels power to do manne so great hurte as this false imagina­tion doeth. And surely vnworthy he is to haue in hym the power of vnderstandynge, of thynkyng, of prouydynge, of lernynge, of tea­chyng, of diuisyng, of remēbringe, of louyng, of hatyng, of resonyng, of counsaylynge, of infinite moo [Page] gyftes, who someuer iugeth hym selfe to haue no more than a swyne or an ape hath: Loke as by the fiue wittes the body knoweth this or that: so by these powers of mynd, the soule walkith to his vnderstandynge, and of an heuenly mattier is made this marueylous thynge, that dwelleth in mans body for a tyme, to be made worthye other of euerlastyng lyfe, or of euerlasting dethe, for the damned soule lyueth in deth without ende.

¶But yet what shall we saye to the place we left before, [...]eathe is [...]ot to be [...]eared. that natu­rally death is feared? Let it be the workynge of nature, yet I see not but the strength of mannes minde fully fastened in fayth, may victo­riousely ouer come all this feare, as we fynde manye ensamples of men that so haue done, not onelye [Page 24] of theym that haue benne helped with faith, but also of many pay­nymes, the whiche toke a courage to dispise deathe, only of a mighty and valiant minde to haue reason subdewe in them the power of all affects.

¶I fynde, a lernedde paynyme wrote that we shoulde nother care for lyfe by it selfe, nor yet for death by it selfe. He sayth that we shulde care to lyue well and to dye well, and let lyfe and deathe passe without care. For lyfe is not good, but to lyue well is good.

¶If paynymes haue this ryghte consideration of lyfe and of death, what shame is hit for Christened men to care for death? seing Christ whose wordes can not but be true, so vehemently forbyddeth vs the same, that paynymes sawe by rea­son [Page] to be done. Ageyne, seyng this death is so common a thynge day­ly in our syghte, why shoulde we we feare it. Thinges that syldom chanse may sturre vp by their rarenes great feare: thynges that be euer at hande shulde by theyr fa­mylartytie and custome nousel vs to sette lyttell by theym. Farther­more he that feareth death coming to hym, wolde feare by lykelyhode deathe, if hit coulde be with hym, when deathe is suche a thynge, that other it is not yet come, or els it is paste. For no man can saye, that deathe is presente. So this feare can neuer be ioyned with the thynge that is feared. Ageyne that thynge that euerye man maye do, no man lightly doeth, that thinge that no man canne helpe hym selfe in, that for the most parte all men [Page 23] do. No man almooste studyeth or careth howe well he may lyue, but how longe he may lyue euery man museth, when the trouth is, that it myghte of all men be opteyned to lyue well, and no man can further hymselfe to lyue longe. A lyke fro­wardnes is in our remembraunce of deathe, we busilye labour and enforce to dreame of deathe, the whiche thynge we can not do: we myghte fynde the waye to dye wel, and this thynge we wyll not doo. This madnes Iohn̄ I truste, you wyll put of, and feare not deathe, the whiche you canne not escape: But feare an yuell death, the whi­che you may flye.

¶Amonge manye commodytes of deathe I reken one chefely to be sette by, that it is good to dye wel, to escape therby thoccasion of ly­uinge [Page] yuell, and surelye he dyethe well, that for suche an intente ta­keth death gladly.

¶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 dye gladdely, fortune hath no power. And what a wretchednes it is to be vnder fortunes vanitie, I reporte me to them, whome we beholde dayly diuersely vexed as well with immoderate lustes of to moche welthe, as with passynge sorowes of to moche trouble.

Therfore to be oute of fortunes thraldome sette lyttell by this lyfe, that is to say, feare not deathe.

¶It pleased me to rede a pay­nyms opinion, that sayd, He is as foolyshe that feareth deathe, as he that feareth to be olde. For as af­ter [Page 25] yōge age folowith the old: so after old age streight foloweth deth. And a madde mans poynte it is to feare dethe, seinge thinges vncer­teyne, the whiche may chance and may not chance, be onely worthye of feare, but thinges certeyn without doubte commynge, muste be loked for, not feared. The necessi­tie of deathes commyng is equall and without remedy, so that other to complayne, or to flye at deathe hit is a playne madnes. For who can complayne to be in the condi­cion, in the whiche indifferently al men of this worlde be?

¶And agayne yf the payne of di­enge were a thinge to make death fearefull, fyrst it shulde be a com­forte to remembre, that after the peyne of deathe, there shall be no more peyne, and as Epicure saith, [Page] If it be an extreme soore payne, it is shorte. For no vehement peyne can be longe. This were inoughe to make death not moche to be ca­red for. Euery way deth is a thing neuer to be feared of a wyse man, and neuer to be out of mynd both with good men and wyse men.

And as for the feare of death were not he (I pray you) a starke foole, that wold wepe and wayle bicause he was not born to this lyfe a thousande yeres agoo? no lesse a foole is he who so euer soro with bicause he can not lyue a thousande yeres to come. For these .ii. sayinges be euen and equally true: you were not, you shall not be. So that one mynde shulde be in vs, as well to remembre we shall not be, as to remembre we ones were not. It is no newe thyng to dye, our fathers [Page 26] our grantfathers, our great fore­siers be gone the way, that both we shal go, and al that folow vs must come the same.

¶More ouer in as moche no la­bour, wyt, craft, nor diligence pre­uayleth to escape dethe, no power, no ryches, no auctoritie helpeth, but all indifferentely be called of dethe, all without choyse must fo­lowe the trayne of deathe, no cor­ner can hyde vs, no walles can de­fende vs, no waye nor meane, no intreatie, no prayer, no suite, no­thynge vnder heuen can kepe vs from deathes hande. Let vs than take a lusty courage of this despe­ration, seinge there is no remedy: lette vs manfully go to it.

The most fereful and cowarde be­stes, that of nature be made to fly, when they be dryuen in to suche [Page] straytes, that they can rounne no further, they▪ turne them, and with the power of theyr myght they in­force to escape. [...]essitie. And surely it is e­uer sene, that those ennemyes be euer moste terrible, the whiche be dryuen by extreme force to fyghte. For necessite correcteth and chasti­seth our hartes moch more sharp­ly, than vertue can do. Wherof a desperate mynde shall do greatter actes, or at the leest no lesse than a valiant stomake can doo. In this necessitie of dethe we nowe be all, it is vayne for vs to flye or to ron away, our feare can fynd no place of flyght. Lette vs imagine the trouthe as in dede it is, that we be al betrayed to dye. It is so Iohn, that without doubt we be all kept in a streyte corner to be rydde of this lyfe. There is no hope of re­medy. [Page 27] All this people that you se, howe longe thynke you shall be. It shall not be longe, but all shall by the course of Nature be called hens to dethe, and there hydde. It maketh no force neither of the day nor of the place. There nedeth no question to be asked eyther where or whan, al must come to one end, other soner or later, other before or after? What nowe Iohn? dothe not he seme vnto you a shamefull cowarde, and a fearefull wretche, a playn kikkes without an harte, that with moche intercession, with many prayers desyrethe a lyttelle delaye of deathe? If you sawe one stande in the numbre of many that shoulde be hedded, makynge most instant suit to the hangman, that he might be y^e last that shulde put his heed to the blocke, wolde [Page] you not say, fye vpon such a wret­ched knaue, that so moche feareth deathe, beynge nowe at the poynt to dye, whether he wylle or no? and yet this maner nowe is with vs all. For the mooste parte it is greattely valured with vs to dye somwhat behynde other, none is so nygh deathe by age, that de­sireth not to differre from this day vntyll to morowe, when in trouth suche a weake mynde is in effecte deed and buryed longe before the body fayleth. Lifte vp therfore your hart onely bycause there is no remedy, desyre not to flie when there is no place to runne to, lette necessite gyue you a courage, if al other strength decayith. What a stomake was in the sayd Canius? of the which sorte the stories make mention to haue ben many amon­gest [Page 28] the paynymes.

¶A tyrante fierselye thretened Theodore the philosopher, that he shoulde dye, and that his bodye shoulde lye to crowes vnburyed: wourshyppefully sayde, aunswe­red this Theodore to the tyrante: Thou mayste be prowde of thy power. By cause one ounce or two of bloudde is in thy handes. And as for the burialle of my bodye, O howe folyshe thou arte, if thou reken it to be any dyfference, whe­ther I rotte vnder or aboue the grounde.

¶Of suche coragious aunsweres the storyes of paynymes be fulle. But moche more the bookes of Christened men be fulle of suche ensamples.

¶Christes faythe made innume­rable stronge champions, inuin­cible [Page] stomackes, not onelye to­warde death but ageynste all the cruel deuises that could be founde to make deathe more paynefulle than deathe. The holye martyrs were so farre from all poyntes of feare, that they semed to enforce and to stryue to haue death gyuen them. Theyr myrthe was to suffer the horrible persecution of tyran­tes. No reason nor lernyng could worke suche strengthnes of har­tes in mens myndes, as the fayth of Christe brought.

¶Loke howe sayncte Paul reioyseth in his troubles, howe he glo­rieth in his scourgynges, whyp­pynges, in his prisonment, in his fetters, all his lyfe semed to be a contynuall deathe, yet his harte neuer gaue ouer, but wexed by the peynes daily stronger & stronger, [Page 29] to suffer a freshe. Feare of deathe was soo farre frome his mynde, that he was gladde to remembre howe ones he shoulde dye, and therby passe to Christes presence, whose quarell he defended in this worlde with all his myghte and power.

¶Loke vpon saynt Laurence, ly­inge broylynge vpon the burnyng cooles, as merye and as quiet as though he lay vpon swete reed roses: When the turmentours tourned his body vpon the fiery gredy ernes, he bad the cruel tirant eate of his burned syde, whiles the to­ther parte was a rostynge. This saying declared that this ho [...]y marter feared no death.

¶Howe manye thousand [...] mar­tyrs suffered incredyble peynes of slayinge with hookes they skyn [Page] from the fleshe, of scrapynge with tyle stones the fleshe from the bo­nes, of rentynge and tearynge membre from mēbre with horses, with bowed branches of trees, of beatynge with whippes tylle the bowelles fall out, of hangynge, of burnynge, of Crucyfyinge, of in­fynite straunge and newe deuyses for payne? Howe manye I saye, suffred all that cruelle tyrantes coulde imagyn eyther with hande, fyer, or ironne, rather than they wolde ons deny them selfe to be of Christis profession? Whan it was proclaimed, that who so euer wold saye he was Christened, he shulde cruelly be put to deth. There pas­sed no daye, without a great nūbre of them that boldly spoke tho wor­des, of the whiche shoulde folowe so blouddye a slaughter. This [Page 30] was a manyfest token, that feare of death hadde no maner of place with our blessed martirs, the whi­che with a constante boldnes defi­ed and dispised the myghty, cruell, and fierse emperours, theyr cou­rage to dye ouerthrew the ragyng madnes of tyrantes. The cause of this myrthe in so pitious mar­tyrdomes was, that this blessed men knewe, howe Christe nother could nor wolde deceiue them, but y^t for theyr lyttel regarding of this lyfe, they shoulde opteyne an other lyfe, where their ioy shuld neuer haue nother change, nor decrease, nor ende. Therfore my good Walker, mystruste you not Christe, whose doctryne the heuen and the erthe hath by innumerable myra­cles, this many hundreth yeres approuyd and confyrmed to be trew, [Page] the bloude of so may sayntes haue witnessed the same: and the diuels with all the damned spirites, soo surely beleue the trouthe of Chri­stes teachynge, that they trymble and quake thereat. Be not moued with the common ensample of the hole worlde, though both spiritu­all and temporall men, though the pope with all his cardinalles by­shoppes and prestes, thoughe the princes with all theyr gentylmen and subiectes mangnifye, esteme, loue, noryshe, and by all meanes cheryshe this lyfe, yet beleue you the trouth, and thinke al the world false, where Christes sayinge agreeth not with that the world doeth. If it were possible, that you sawe the angels of heuen lyue contrary to the preachynge of Christe, yet ageynste them all beleue the sonne [Page 31] of god, and loue not to abyde in this lyfe, when Christe calleth you hense, make a smale valure of this present plesures, whā Christ sayth all be vanites, & may be torned to endles sorowes: Regarde no ho­nour, no promotion here, when Christe sayth, the place of honour is in heuen, and here is none ad­uācement, that is not both shame, and also may be cause of a perpe­tualle wretchednes. Dispice the ease and rest that these riches brin­geth, in as moche Christe saythe, that of them be taken many im­pedimenntes and lettes to enter into the sure quietnes of blessed soules. Thynke no place to be for your abydyng in this world, when christe sayth, here is not your coū ­trey, but your father and your dwelling place is in heuen. Haast [Page] therfore hence. This is to saye be wyllynge to forsake this straunge countray. And seinge the waye to your homewarde lyeth by deathe, take a couragious stomake to die, and dye gladly, that you may dye well. Beleue I say Christe, & you shall thynke it paynefull to be in this lyfe. Beleue Christe and you shall be gredye to be partaker of the heuenly ioyes, whervpon wyll folowe a plesante remembraunce of deathe, by the whiche you shall departe frome your peyne to that ioye, the whiche you desyre. And hereof is made a glad dyinge, the whiche I styl name a good dieng. Thus if we canne take this feare awaye we be well forwarde, and herof wyll easyly insue the reste, that is to dye gladlye. It is a true sayinge, that who so euer feareth [Page 32] death, he shal neuer do a dede worthy for a lyuyng man. Therfore if hit were but onely for lyfes sake, it is our parte to despise the feare of deathe.

¶Besyde this feare of deathe,Loue this ly [...] the loue (I say) of this lyfe soore hyn­dereth the gladnes of dyinge, no man dyeth gladly, that estemethe moche this lyfe. He that rekeneth in this worlde hym selfe happye, when he hath gotten ryches, pos­sessions, auctoritie, promotion, a ryall state, a princelyke courte, a­bundaunce of welthy fare, a rule and power bothe to auaunce his frende, and to vndo his foo: this man I say that glorieth in his fantasye for these and such other thinges, can not but with moch sorow depart hence. To this mās hart y^e remembrance of deth is a euer greuous [Page] thoughte, his mynde canne not but lament whan he seeth the necessite to be pluckid and drawen frome these commodities, in the whiche resteth the ioye, pleasure, and gladnes of his mynd, he hath so stedfastly accustomed hym selfe to take this worlde for heuen, that it wyll not synke in his brayne, to hope of an other heuen: he hath so corrupted his taste with thinkyng this lyfe to be swete, that nedes it must be a bytter thyng to make an ende of all his pleasures, and in this case be not onely they that haue this worlde at their wyll, but also they be in the same case that haue naught, and be gredy of ha­uynge. As moche loueth he this worlde that wolde fayne be ryche, as he that is ryche. It is nat the hauynge nor the lackyng of abun­dance [Page 33] in goodes, that maketh a sorowfull hart in the remembraunce of dethe, but it is the mynd that valureth and pondreth these present goodes to be of a great price, and worthy to be tarid for. This mind I say, as wel in a cōmuner, as in a kynge, as well in a yoman as in a lord, as wel in an hermite, monke, or frier, as in a marchant plowmā or vacabunde, as wel in beggers, as in ryche men, is the thinge that causeth sorow in dying. And glad­ly no manne dyeth, that loueth the welthe of this lyfe. Wherfore the lerning to die wel requireth neces­sary a lesson, howe moche the goo­des of this worlde be worthy to be regarded. And let the truthe haue in your stomacke his place, so that if it be tru, that the thinges of this life be worthy to be loued and to be [Page] cared for: than loue you them and care for them. If the truth be other wise, change your mynd, & nother loue these saide thynges, nor care for them. Of the truth in this mat­ter no man can dout, that beleueth Christe, whom if you thynke to be god, you muste also thinke it all trouth that he saith. It can not be otherwise then Christe testifieth, whose preching euer exhorteth vs to wylful pouertie, the which is nother to loue y^e goodis of this world though we haue thē, nor to care for them, though we haue them not: only by Christis teching we shulde care for the kingdom of heuen, the whiche standeth in the clennes of conscience, where euer is a place & a seete for the hie maiestie of the holy trinitie. All other thinges ne­cessary for this lyfe be not to be ca­red [Page 33] for, nor yet to be valured more then their dignities requirith: that is to say, no more thā is cōuenient for instrumētes & toles to y^e pilgre­mage & passage of this strāge coū ­trey. For in this world we haue no home, our father dwelleth not in his region, we be in this lyfe out of our ꝓpre countrey, we shulde hast home ward to the ioyful presēce of our owne father, y^t abydeth vs in heuen, the whiche hath a greatter charge ouer vs his chyldern here, than he hathe ouer the beastes or byrdes, the whiche by his only prouision without their care, lacketh nothinge for their necessitie, Mo­che more (sayth our master Christ) if we tourned all our care to god­warde, we shulde not be destitute of such thinges as necessarily this present lyfe nedeth. And where [Page] Christe so streytly commaundeth almes dedes, sayinge, that who so euer helpeth not a pore man in his nede, he wil not helpe him nor yet knowe him at the fearefull day of dome, in so moche that it pleaseth Christ to say, that euery pore man representeth the person of goddes son, so that he that regardeth not a pore man, despiseth the son of god. In this doctryne what thynke you? Whether dothe Christe com­maunde almes deades for the poore mans sake, that shulde take almes, or for the ryche mans sake, that shoulde gyue almes? In ta­kynge almes I fynde no vertue, and nedes it is a thynge partey­nynge to vertue, that Christ wolde haue done. Therfore surely it is for the ryche mans sake. For it is Christes lesson, that techeth vs to [Page 35] haue no inwarde loue to these casual goodes, the whiche we must put from vs, where we see theym that wante suche thynges. And a profe of a perfecte stomake is taken in him, that vtterly leauyth and for­sakethe all this worlde to folowe Christe: the whiche beddeth the ryche man, that wyll be perfecte, to go & sell al that he hath, & deale all to poore men. For as harde a thynge it is to plucke through the smale nedels eie a greatte caboull rope, as to brynge a ryche man in at heuens wycket: not that it is impossible for a riche man to be saued, but by cause it is harde for a man in a whelthy state to kepe his minde in a due order to godward, without beyng drowned or infec­ted by the contagious lustes and corrupted plesures, the which foloweth [Page] the fortunate lyfe of this worlde. And nothynge is more in a rich man to be feared, than lest he sette his mynde to loue his ry­ches, the whiche loue can neuer stande with the pleasure of god.

Remembre the sayenge of thappo­stelle saynct Paule: The loue of ryches is the rote of all syn. Ther­fore let not this loue grow in your harte, from whense shuld springe the frute of damnation. Here of my frende walker, I trust you se, that without question it is Christes wil to haue vs lyttel regarde this life, and moche lesse to regarde all the commodities apperteining to this lyfe. It is god that sayth, The lo­singe of lyfe in this worlde, is the fynding of life in a nother worlde: and that wepynge, sorowe, peyne, tribulation, pouertye, shame, per­secution, [Page 35] and fynally death in this lyfe, is laughinge, ioy, pleasure, ease, ryches, honour, quietnes, and fynallye lyfe, in the kynge­dome of god.

Contrarye the same maister testi­fiethe, that myrthe, welthe, reste, glorye, abundance, strengthe, li­bertye, rule, & fynally life in this worlde, is lamentyng, grefe, trou­ble, slaunder, myserye, wekenes, thraldome, bondage, and fynally deathe in goddes reygne. In this tenor and key sowneth al our holy scripture. Wherfore my thynke it is inough to proue to a Christe­ned man, that the welthy state of this worlde is vayne and ieoper­dous, by cause Christe so teacheth and preacheth, and surely a grea­ter profe by reason for this matter with you I wyll not vse atte this [Page] tyme. Let Christe be beleued, that beddeth you gether a tresure in heuen, where your ryches shall be­sure from mothes, wormes, and rustynge, from theues, fyer, and water. If your treasure be ones couched in heuen, streyghte your harte shall also be there: and soo shall you take no pleasure of tary­inge in this lyfe, but rather it shal be werines and tediousnes to you to be here absente from your har­tes desyre, the whiche alwaye styc­keth and cleueth to your treasure in heuen, If hit soo be that after Christes consaille you haue there put al your goodes and substance. If nother we feare death nor loue this lyfe, I thynke the chefe impe­dimentes & lettis of our purpose to dye wel, be taken away, & nowe we may a litel deuise, what thing may [Page 37] helpe vs in our iourney after these stones and blockes be gone.

¶In my mynde nothynge shalle further vs more to a gladde deth,What dreth glad [...] than shall an ordinate lyfe, that is to liue in a iust & a due maner after one rule & one forme, euer awake in a quicke remēbrāce of death, as though euery houre were our last space of induraunce in this world. When you rise in the morning, de­termine so to passe y^e day folowing as though at nyght a graue shuld be your bed. Let euery daye be rec­kened with you as your last. This minde shal make you bestowe well your lyfe, the whiche is to you vn­certeyne, howe longe it shall con­tynue: ye rather in doubte you be, how sone or how shortly life shalbe taken from you. What so euer you take in hande bethinke you, that [Page] before you ende it, death may op­presse you workynge. This is the thynge that Christ wolde haue vs do, when he so often warneth and admonisheth vs to take hede and to loke aboute vs, bycause nother the daye nor the houre of our cal­lynge is certayne to vs. Therfore it is our parte, of a tyme so moche vncertaine to make a time sure, certayne, and present, that we neuer be taken vnwares: by the whiche meanes we shal gladly suffre deth seyng it is a thyng so longe before prepared. For why shulde it be a strange thynge to reken euery day to be the laste? I see not but that thynge, that happeneth and chan­seth to some of vs, myght come to any of vs, and lyke wise all might haue that that a fewe hath. There is no cause to deny, but as wel this [Page 38] day you or I myght dye, as we see this day some other deed: & though we be not deed this daye, yet it is trowthe that this day we dye, and dailye sithen our fyrste byrthe we haue died, in as moche that dayly some parte of our life, hath ben di­minished, & euer as we haue gro­wen, so euer life hath decresed. We were babys, we were chyldern, we were boyes, we were yonge men, all these ages be loste, and tyll ye­sterdaye all tyme past is gone and lost. This same selfe day that we nowe lyue, is deuyded and parted with death. Styll without ceas­sing we approche to death by thex­pence & wast of lyfe. Thus dyinge we alway be, though death be not alway vpon vs. Conceyue than this ordinate lyfe in your mynde, & bestowe your tyme whilest you [Page] haue the tyme. Aboue all thynges [...]y idelnes, the whiche is a thynge bothe to the body and to the soule. lyke a kankerynge rustines, and as an earynge consumption, hit wasteth to naughte bothe vertue and strength. A man the whiche is in the lyfe that you be, may sone be corrupted with this contagion of idelnes, if he be not well ware, & diligently enforce him selfe to the contrary. For I se you haue a maister so affectionate & giuen to you, y^t he wyll nother suffer you lacke any thynge mete for your helthe or quietnes, but also he had rather forbeare his owne commodities, than for his seruyce you shulde be disquieted: So tender he is in all poyntes ouer you, that if you pon­der well his state and your owne condition, you shall finde your life [Page 37] better defended from all stormes agaynst the mindes rest, than your maisters condition is. He is in su­che a syghte of the worlde, that ne­cessarily his studye and care muste moue hym to satysfye the greatte expectation, that his hole contrey hath of his towardnes. And for­tune on the tother syde, is so con­trary to hym, that nedes he muste by wisdom procure, with no smale thoughte, howe he may in penury maynteyne the outwarde face of his reputatyon: so that for your quietnes his mynde often labou­reth, where you may do what you wyll without feare of the worldes displeasure, without feare of lac­kynge or not hauynge inough for your necessarys, and moche more than necessitie requireth. Labour haue you none, but that maye be [Page] rather takē for a pastime, thought to plese your maister you nede not take, in as moch you may be assu­red, that he can not nor wil not for the time of his lyfe chaunge his affectiō toward you. Therfore I say it may be fered in one of your state, lest idelnes shuld brede a foule slo­uens neste, the which were inough to distroye all lustines of vertue, & to make you longe deed and buri­ed in this worlde, before lyfe forsa­keth you. For my good Iohn̄, I wyll haue you knowe and remem­bre, that idelnes is called the graue of lyuynge men: it is the thynge, wherin life dyeth, and therby your soule is twyse buryed in you, ons in your bodye, nexte in your slothe. The whiche vyce in ser­uynge men most reyneth, and the same is roote of manye vnthrysty [Page 37] thoughtes, whervpon folowethe a worse idelnes than the tother is. For it is an yuell ydelnes to do no thynge, but a worse ydelnes hit is to do not well. Suche an ydel fe­lowe sainct Chrysostomus calleth a dissolatynge, or a voyde baityng place, wherinto the dyuel entrith, as in to his owne howse by good right. For where vertu is not exer­cised, there the enmy of grace clay­mith his rule, it is not now mi purpose to shewe what you shuld do, y^t you might not only fly idelnes, but also be well occupyed. This were a mattier inoughe for a nother worke. I haue my intente at this tyme, if you se that death is not to be feared, and that by contynuall remembraunce of death, you shall prepayre your selfe to dye gladlye with a good wyll: the whiche you [Page] can not do, onles you be in hope of the euerlasting life, & this hope requireth some trust in the clenes of a good conscience, the which euer foloweth a gracious intēt of liuīg wel. So y^t if you liue wel, you shal dye wel. And of the way to liue wel you cā not misse, if you arme your minde to be strong agaynst al sud­dennes of deth. Pray euer continually without cessing you must: but what is this continuall prayer I wolde you lerned. For of prayer it is but one fynal portion, the say­inge of psalmes or axing with wordes of god his grace, the very praier is to be euer wel mynded, to be euer in charitie, to haue euer the honour of good in rememberance, to suffre no rancore, none yre, no wrath, no malice, no syn to abyde in your delyte, but to be in a conti­nual [Page 36] good thought, the which you maye kepe whether you slepe or wake, whether you eate or drynke, whether you feaste or fast, whether you rest or labour, & neuer parauē ture you can pray better, than whā you must giue your selfe to serue your maister, to whom y^e course of your life is due & boundē specially when god hath giuen you suche a maister, whom your seruice cā not plese without you be studyous to please god. For wel you see, y^t with out vertue your seruyce were to your maister an vnsauery thynge: but (as I haue sayd) it is not now my purpose to apoint you the way of lyuynge wel: if you haue harde inoughe to dye wel, I haue for my parte nowe sayde inough, & short­lye by the same you shall of your selfe without farther helpe fynde [Page] the waye to lyue well. Nowe that by this I thynke my promysse fulfilled, I will at this poynte bed you farewel, and I pray god giue you a stronge corage to passe valy antly through death, to come from thence to euerlastynge lyfe, by the helpe and grace of our mayster and sauyour Christ, to whome lette vs for euer more ren­der al glory, prayse, and honour. Amen.

At Paris the .x. day of Ia­nuarye.