ALL BE IT I ac­knowlege my self neyther so able as I am wyllynge, neither soo meete as I am redye to write in such a matter, as I nowe haue taken vppon me, yet tru­stynge where my wylle is to doo welle, that thoughe I faylle of thanke, I shall nat mysse of par­don, I can nat but admonyshe al my countray men in so plentifull an occasion, that as the benefites of god be great, straunge, and al­moste euery day caste vpon vs, or ere we can loke for theym, euen so we woll with thankfull hart shew our selfes to see and fele his godly goodnes, And where as suche his fatherly loue is moche aboue our desertes, that yet we agnise it, and [Page] as moche as in vs lieth, endeuour our selfes aboundantly to thanke hym for it. God is neuer wery of doynge good to man, but when eyther he woll not se it, orels seing it, refuseth to thanke hym accor­dyngly. Can he aske lesse for soo many his benefittes then a fewe bareyn thankes, which do plesure onely to hym for this cause, that he therby is made redy and moch prouoked to laade vs with some newe kyndenesse, with some newe benefyttes, with somme newe his gyftes. He ofte layeth sore to his chosen and elect people forgetful­nes of his benefitis toward them, commandynge in sondrye places, Moses, Iosue, Esaies, Hieremi­as, Ezechiell, with the reste of the prophetes, to reherse his goodnes shewed to them, and their vnkindnes [Page] vttered vnto him, thynkynge as I take it, that nothyng coulde sooner brynge them to loue hym, than thofte remembraunce of his benefytes, nothynge more allure them to repentance and chaunge of lyfe, than the iuste reproche of their vnthankefull harte in suche a throng of his giftes. I purpose nat to stande longe in olde places of scripture, and yet I canne nat without some hurte of my matter lette all examples alone. wherfore I wyl vse a few in place of many. Moses callyd all Israell to hym,Deut. 29. and sayde in this wise to them: ye haue seene what god dydde vnto Pharao for youre sake: what he dyd to Pharao his host, and al the reste of his seruauntes, ye haue sene many myracles, many strāge wonders, and yet god hath not gi­uen [Page] you hartes to feele his good­nes, eyes to see his tender loue o­uer you, ne eares to here of any of bothe. I haue led you forty yeres in the wyldernesse, and yet youre clothes are not worne: ye hadde neither breade ne drynke, and yet to thintent ye shoulde remember god to be your lorde, in lackynge bothe, you were peyned neyther with hunger ne thyrste. Sehon kynge of Hesbon, and Og kynge of Basan came with myghty po­wer agaynst you. They are slayn, and you the lordes of their landes and possessions. &c.

God also doth expostulate with the people of Israell by his mes­sanger Hieremias,Hierem. 2. saying: What vnfaithfulnesse founde your fore­fathers in me, that they departing from my lawes and loue, folowe [Page] lightnes & vanite: They haue not ones sithēs their deꝑture thought in their hartes, where haue we left the lorde? the lorde that brought vs out of the lande of Aegypt, the lorde that ledde vs throughe the wyldernes, through the deserte, a rough, drye, and deedly lande, a lande that no man had passed be­fore, and where no manne hadde dwelte. I brought you into a land passynge full of pleasure, adour­ned with gay and gorgious buil­dinges, you enioyinge the fruites and commodities thereof, went and defiled my land, and brought myne heritage to abhomination. The pristes them selfes (they were euen thenne as many of ours be nowe) sayd not ones, where is the lord. The sheperdes offēd against me, the prophetes do seruice vnto [Page] Baall, and folowe suche thynges as can do them no seruice. Esaias in many places doth also comme­morate god his benefites toward the chyldern of Israell. God doth shewe hym selfe verye gladde and wonderfull desyrous to employe his benefitis vpon them that seke to giue him thankes for so doing: and can scarse be brought to leue such as he hath ones taken to his fauour. For though their synnes be great, and their offences many yet as long as he may beare with them, he sticketh not to forgyue, so they be not dangerous and coy of theyr thankes. Dauyd lacked no sinnes, as al mē know that traueil in scripture, he lacked none: & yet he had euer one y^t forgaue him al. And not only forgaue him al, but stil laded him with new benefitis. [Page] Dauyd forgottethe not this syn­guler goodnesse of god towarde him, he suffereth not goddis loue to make any ende with hym, he styll encreaseth his fauour not so moche by any merites, as by prai­synge the vndeserued loue of god. Loue not solde vnto hym for wor­kes, but gyuen hym, that he ther­by might worke. His psalmes wel testifie, that he doth acknowledge what god dyd for him. He syngeth oft thankful dities vnto god, as among many other, thus in the se­cond of the kynges,Cap. 22. The Lorde is my rocke, my castel, my deliuerer. God is my strength, & and in him wol I trust: God is my shelde, my fortresse, my refuge. O my keper, kepe thou me from wrong, I wyl praise the, & call vpon the o lord, & so shal I be kept frō myn enmies. [Page] Who so listeth to reade all that fo­loweth, may when he wyl, I haue shewed hym the chapiter. I muste nowe folow present occasion, and talke a whyle with my countraye. ¶Englande, haste thou no cause to folow Dauid, to make himnes and dities of thankes vnto god? when wolt thou perceyue goddis loue towarde the, if thou yet per­ceyue it not? Whan wolte thou gyue hym, or to vse a more apter terme, whan wylte thou paye him thankes, if thou nowe denye thy selfe endetted to hym? Thou must confesse dette, thou canste nat de­nie it, without thy greatte shame. There be to manye wytnesses for thy nay, to take any place: All na­tions wonder at thy felicitie. All men knowe what ieoperdies thou hast escaped, howe nighe sorowes [Page] brinke thou hast ben brought, and straight howe sone thou haste ben made gladde. I wylle not calle to remembraunce thynges past ma­ny yeres syns, marke but the pro­cedinges of god with the and thin these foure or fyue yeres. Waye well the accidentes, the chaunces, the progresse, and thende of thin­ges, that haue fortuned, and than Englande see, whether thou haue not mo causes to thynke that god tendereth the helthe, welthe, and honoure of thy gouernour, and oure dere and dredde soueraygne lorde: than euer Israell hadde to thynke so by kinge Dauid, or any other. He must be well sene in fea­tes of armes, that shall fynde a place open, to wound hym, whom god is buckeler vnto. God wolle not suffre his purposes, to be al­tered. [Page] Man maye seke to destroy, that god wolle haue saued, but he shall doo as moche, as they that seke to make stronge rockes fall, with a knocke of theyr hedes. For as these labour folyshely, and doo but breake theyr owne braynes, so do they that thynke to pull downe a prynce, whome god hath chosen to reigne ouer his people, bothe declare their folye, and alsoo the goodnesse of god in preseruynge whome he loueth. There is none that trewely serueth god, that can say, he hathe bene in distresse, and nat founde succour at his hande, and yet compare theym all with our moste fortunate prynce, they haue all founde him no more pro­pence and redy to helpe them: then he hath ben to helpe his highnes.3. Reg. 19. God lefte not his seruaunt Elias [Page] fleinge the wrothe and displea­sure of Iezabell, no he being withoute hope of lyfe, and moche de­syrynge to dye, he sent hym an an­gell to comforte him, and foode to refreshe hym self withall, not con­tent with that, but spake to hym, hym selfe, as ye may rede, if ye de­syre to knowe what god sayde to hym.Daniel. 6. Danyell was caste into a denne of lyons, god sente his an­gelle to stoppe the lyons mouthe, and so Daniell was hurte in noo parte of his bodye.Iudic. 6. God sent his aungell to good Gedeon, whanne the Madianites had almost ouer throwen the chyldren of Israell. He talketh longe with Gedeon, a­bydinge his sacrifice with many his tentations. Rede the place, ye shall perceyue howe god louethe, where he lyketh.Iosue. 5. Iosue also sawe [Page] a man standyng anenst hym, with a swerd redy drawen in his hand, vnto whom he went and sayd, Art thou our frende, or dost thou take the parte of our aduersaries? An­swere was made: I am the chiefe of the lordes bande.Iudith▪ 13. Iudith also had an aungell to her companion and guyde, whan she went to slee Holofernes. I coulde brynge in many mo examples, if my pour­pose were to enlarge my mattier that waye. As howe god sent his aungell to conducte the hooste of the Israelites, whan they passed the sees, and also how he sent his angell into the fornace, where the thre chyldren laye in fyer, and felt no heate. I coulde shewe in what battailes god hath made his an­gels souldiours, but that is nat myne intent. I muste make com­parysons, [Page] and yet I truste they shal nat be odious. Rede all scrip­ture, and ye shall fynde no person that god preseruid more tenderly, than he dyd his chosen and electe kynge Dauid. For he beinge as yet noo kynge, but rather a poore subiecte of a myghtye kynge, was in many places persecuted of him and his host, and yet the goodnes of god was suche towarde hym, that he escaped all the snares that longe set malice had layd for him. A puyssant prince desyred a poore mannes deathe, it wolde not be. Mighty Saule miste of his pur­pose ageynst sely Dauid, & coulde not hurte his lytell fynger. Some percase woll thynke, here to take holde of me, and say, if god could preserue a subiect against a prince it is no meruayle, if he preserue a [Page] prynce ayenst a fewe his vnnatu­rall subiectes, a realme ayenste a fewe traytours. I muste saye as they do, it is no great meruayle, that god soo dothe, and yet I saye as I sayde firste, our soueraigne lorde kyng Henry the eight, hath moche more cause to gyue God thankes, than euer had king Da­uid, or Dauid not yet a kyng. For as he knewe that kynge Saule sought his destruction, and ther­by might do what laye in hym, to escape his hande, and also by ofte intercession, obteyn helpe and suc­cour of god, so the kynges high­nes of late stode in case farre vn­lyke, and in moche more presente daunger then he dyd. His high­nes was in great peryll, and nei­ther sawe it, ne coulde mystruste any suche thyng. For if nature, if [Page] bloude, if moste ample benefites, coulde haue wrought in some, as they do in all naturall and honest hartes, whome might his grace haue takē for his more trusty ser­uauntes, for his trewer subiectes, then Henry Corteney, late mar­ques of Exetter, then Henry Pole late lorde Montacute, than Ed­warde Neuell, late of his graces priuie chaumber? I wylle talke with the reste, whan I shall come to the place, whyche I reserue for them. What subiectes were more bounde to their soueraygne lorde, I say moch more, what men were more endetted to man, than were all these thre to his highnes? Who in more daunger than his grace, whiche neyther coulde mystruste them, ne yet without his great pe­ryll truste them. God promisynge [Page] ayde to them that call vpon hym▪ seldome suffereth innocentes, as Iob sayth, to peryshe. Wherefore Dauid hauynge cause to call for helpe, and God by his promyse bound to succour hym, coulde not but fynde god good to hym. But our moste fortunate kynge, was in moste daunger, and in no feare ne suspition of leste. Howe coulde his grace suspecte them, whom of all men he knewe hadde greattest causes to loue hym, to desyre his hyghnesse prosperytie and longe reygne? His grace dydde not vse them as men, whome he mystrus­ted, no he vsed more familiarnesse with fewe of his subiectes, than he dydde with the Marques, and syr Edwarde Neuyll. Wherfore as his grace coulde not are helpe ayenste them, whom he toke to be [Page] the rediest of all menne to spende theyr bloud, if nede shuld require, them so to do: Euen so god seinge what was in hande, thoughte it hyghe tyme suche ranke and rype traytours to be reped vp. He saw, the lesse his highnesse mystrusted the more peryll his graces person stode in, the farder they were from suspition, the nigher they were to worke mischef. Our lord be than­ked, they haue in one houre rydde this realme of many daungers, taking their leaue of life, with su­che shame, as it becōmeth al tray­ters to do, & as for the moste parte god be thanked, they are all wont to do. If lawes were gone, or of no strength at all, wolde not men onely moued by the heynousnesse of treason, thynke all deathes to fewe for these abhomynable trai­tours, [Page] all tourmentes, all peyne, all vilany to lytle for them? I am ashamed, that euer it shulde come into writyng, that there haue ben among men, some, that receiuing so hyghe fauour, and so great be­nefytes, soughte to make hym a­way, of whom they receiued them, more ashamed, that suche exaum­ples shoulde be founde amonge christian men, moste of all, that it happeneth so oft here in our coun­treye. The ciuile lawe, is moche to be commended, that the master maye calle hym ayene to bondage & seruitude, whome he hath made free, if at any tyme after his fre­dome, he shew hym selfe vnkynd. The Macedons and Athenians also, had an action, a comune plee in the lawe, ayenste suche as were but in trifles blotted with vnkindnes, [Page] as ayenste men, that in dede are enmies to al them, which haue nede of other mennes helpe. One vnkynde persone, is oftentymes the cause, that men haue no wylle to do good, where they may feare the lyke. And if it be trewe, that Gratitude, which is a perpetuall memorie of benefittes receyued, and alsoo a desyre to recompense them, be as a mother of many vertues, Forasmoche as there com­meth from her, loue and feare of god, loue and feare of our prince, loue towarde our countreye, loue towarde our parentes, frendshyp betwene man and man, venerati­on of those that bringe vs vp, and do eyther norysshe our bodyes or instructe our myndes, we muste nedes gather it to be true, that Ci­cero wryteth to his frende Atti­cus, [Page] Ingratis vitia inesse omnia, that is, all vices to be in them, that are vnkynde. This vice is moch bet­ter named in our tounge, then it is, as me thynketh in any other. Unkyndnesse, is a fytte name for so vnnaturall a vice: they that fal into it, go from the kynde of men, they lose that state and name, that nature put them in, and are tour­ned into cruell & vnnaturall bea­stes. Nowe if vnkyndnes be such a vice, in what hatred of all men, ought traytours to be, and tray­tours to theyr prynce, and suche theyr prince of whom they had re­ceyued so innumerable benefites, and whiche, so many wayes had declared his synguler fauour and loue towarde them?

¶For to come at the laste, to the archetraytour, and to speke some [Page] what of hym, whom god hateth, nature refuseth, all men deteste, yea, and all beastes to, wolde ab­horre, if they could perceiue, how moche viler he is, then is euen the worste of them, what man wolde euer haue thought, that Reynold Pole coulde haue ben by any gif­tes, by any promotion, by anye meanes in this worlde, broughte from the loue, whiche for so many the kynges high benefittes, of all men, he ought his grace the moste who wol yet beleue, that knowith it not to be true, that a manne so bounde to loue, can hate, so boūde to serue, can brede traytours, stire sedition, intende his deathe, for whome he ought with all harte to haue shedde his beste bloud, reke­nynge the losse of his owne lyfe well spente, so that his hyghnesse [Page] might therby be preserued, I wol not say from deth, but from perill and danger. Howe many fathers haue bene more tender ouer their sonnes, than hath his grace bene in bryngynge vp the, thou false Pole, thou shamefull and shame­les traytour, from thy chyldhode, euen tyll within these two yeres? What letters wrote his highnes in thy fauour to the Uenetians, at thy firste goinge into Italye? what credyte, what estymation couldest thou haue ben in there, if thou haddest come alone without his gracis commendation? what was in the, at thy firste going thi­ther, besyde thy famylye, worthye any gret estimation? Thou mightest haue come with thy byrth and familie, & haue founde fewe there that wolde haue estemed the for [Page] them, sauyng for his gracis sake. His gracis fauour, whom at that tyme the byshop of Rome and his adherentes, honoured aboue all princis in Chrystendome, wonne the thy frendes there, if they may be callyd thy frendes, whom thou so takest to be, not knowyng who be thy frendes, and who thy foes, beinge thy selfe of all men moste ennemye to thy selfe. Thou suf­fredst thy self to be callid the king of Englandes nephewe, this title beinge fals, wrought moche, and made manye in loue with the for thy nobilities sake. And yet thou gottest not so many that waye, as thou dyddest by reason it pleased the kynge of his goodnes to giue the, besyde thyne owne reuenues, yerely an hundreth pounde out of his cofers. It is a wonderfulle [Page] thinge to see the diuersitie of na­ture, howe grate and kynde [...] be, and howe vnnaturall and vn­kind some other be. Many thinke them selfe to owe lyfe, and all the reste, to him that doth but a mean good tourne for their frende, and canste nat thou, receiuyng so ma­ny, so great benefites, thy family, thy mother, thy brethern, so many wayes bounde to his hyghenesse, auoyde treason? Thou hast redde manye notable hystoryes, that might haue kept thy cancred na­ture, at the leste from treasone, yf they coulde a wrought no farther in the. Howe many slaues do we rede of, that haue liued with their maisters in great seruitude & mi­serie, whyche yet soo loued theyr maisters, that they chose eyther to dye for theym, or els to dye with [Page] theym.

¶Philotimus a seruaunt and a slaue, a lyttell before his mayster dyed, was made heire of all that he left. Marke his true stomake, thou muste nedes condemne thyn vnfaithfull fals and trayterous harte. Whan the deed corps was caste into the fyre, he remembring what a true seruaunte oweth to a good mayster, forgate, not onely the goodes that were bequethed hym, but also contempnynge his owne lyfe, lept into the fyre, thin­kynge trewe seruyce not to ende where lyfe remayneth. Here as I doo nat lyke this Philotimus to hote loue, or to saye as I ought, his rashe deathe, so I doubte nat but there be in Englande manye seruantes, that wolde a thousand tymes hasarde their lyfe, rather [Page] than their maister shuld be in any ieoperdy of his.

¶Marcus Antonius beinge o­uercome of Augustus the empe­rour, delyuered vnto Eros his seruaunte a swerde, requirynge to be rydde, ere his enmyes shuld take hym. Eros toke the swerde, and quickely turnyng it thought it lesse shame, yea, lesse hurte, to kyll hym selfe then to kyl his ma­ster. I coulde tary and fyll myne oration with suche examples, but neyther to the, Pole, it nedeth, nor to the, suche a traytour, it boteth: thou hast red them as well as I, yea thou knowest, that very dog­ges, vnto whome theyr mayster could neuer giue more then meate and drinke, haue oft died for their master, oft slayne them that slewe hym. I wyll brynge in an exam­ple [Page] or two, not that I thynke they can do the any good, but that they maye set our thyne abhomynable vnkyndenes, to thy shame & con­fusiō. It is notable, that authors wryte of kynge Lisymachus his dogge, whiche neuer left his lord and mayster, but was in all hun­tynges, in all warres, in all ieo­perdies at hande with him. At the last when he saw his master deed, and cast into the fyre, as the ma­ner of burial was then, the dogge a gret whyle mornefully yowling and lamentynge the deathe of his mayster, caste hym selfe euen into the fyre also, and there died by his mayster. Pliny writeth, that Hie­ro kynge of the Syracusans, had a dogge, which did euen the same. It is more notable, that wryters leaue in memory of a Romaynes [Page] dogge, whiche Romaine was put to deathe when Titus Fabinus & his famylye were slayne. This dogge wolde away from his mai­ster, for no strypes, for no whyp­pynge, but laye by the deed body, and styll howled wonderfull mor­nyngely, many of the Romaynes standyng about & moche meruay­lyng at the true faith & harte that that sorye worme bare vnto his inayster. At the laste, when they thought the dogge hungrye, one of the stāders by gaue him meate, whiche he straighte caryed to his maysters mouth, and left it there. Shortly after the body being hurled into the floudde of Tyber, the dogge lept in after, and gate hold of his mayster, kepynge hym a­boue water as longe as he could. If the lawes hadde prouyded no [Page] payne for treason: were not these examples ynough, to make men teare such traytors, as thou arte with theyr teethe? If men wolde spare the, wold not dogges pur­sewe a beaste thus ouerwhelmed with all kynde of treason? A beast so false to his soueraygne lorde, and suche his souerain lord? How be it, if thou be as I surely thinke thou arte, he is moche more thye frende, that wysheth the ded then a lyue. Treason can neuer lye a­lone in a traytours harte, it hath suche a rablemente with it, that deathe is pleasure, if it be compa­red with the gripes, the woundis, the tossynge and turmoylyng, the heauyng and shouyng, that trai­tours fele in their stomackes. As god helpe me, I can not thynke, but god euen of very purpose re­serueth [Page] the alyue, onely bycause thy lyfe hath many mo tourmen­tes, moche more shame in it, then any cruelle deathe can haue. God by thy lyfe declareth what rest thy trayterous soule shall haue after the eternall shame of this worlde, For he that hath to dwelle where thou arte sure to be, excepte thou amende, must be exercysed with suche panges as thou arte, & euer in his lyfe lerne what hell hath, what interteynement they haue that take vp their lodgyng there. What greatter tourmente can be wyshed vnto the, thā al the world to knowe, that thou by these ab­homynable treasons, haste cast a­way thy famylie, whiche myghte haue continued in honour, distei­ned thy bloud, whiche before was myngled with a kinges, and now [Page] is farre vnder a colyers? what greater shame can comme to the, then to be the dishonour of all thy kynne, a comforte to al thyne en­mies, a deathe to all thy frendes? All men that loue trouthe, allegi­aunce, and honestie, muste nedes be thyne enemyes, all men muste hate the, yea, thy mother her selfe shall thynke her self worthy deth, if she hate not the aboue all crea­tures. All they, whom frendeshyp and affinitie hadde in tyme paste knitte vnto the, wyshe for no trai­tours dethe so moche as they doo for thyne. O Pole, o hurle pole, full of poyson, that woldest haue drowned thy countrey in bloudde, thou thoughtest to haue ouerflo­wed thy prynce and soueraygne lorde, thou thoughteste with thy traiterous streames to haue ouer [Page] rounne all to gether. But god be thanked, thou arte nowe a P [...]le of lytel water, and that at a won­derfull lowe ebbe. Can I wysshe the any more hurt, than that thou mayste lyue longe in suche shame, in suche infamie, as I thynke ne­uer traytour was in? I thinke as obstinate a wretche as thou art, if the falle of thy familye nothynge moue the, that yet the voyce of thy countrey, whiche sommetyme wisheth the deed in thy fyrst clou­tes, sometyme hanged, sometyme in helle with thy great master, the dyuelles vycar aboute thy necke, were inough to make the chose a tree, and there to doo as Iudas the capitayn of traytours, whom thou trayterousely folowest, dyd. Hast not thou moch greater cause to say, as Iob dyd, than euer had [Page] Iob? Who euer myght better say, than thou? who ought sooner to crie thā thou? Cursed be that day that I was borne in, let that daye perish, & the night also, in y^e which it was said, there is a knaue child cōceiued. let that day be turned in to darknes, let god neuer regarde it, let neuer light shine vpō it: but euen to the worldes end be it couered with eternall darkenes. Lette the dymme cloude fall vpon it, let it be lapped in with sorowe, let the darke storm ouercome that night, let not the daye that I was borne in, be rekened amonge the dayes of the yere, nor counted in the mo­nethes. Let them that dispice that nigt, and curse the day, curse al­so the mornynge that folowed my birthe, let it loke for lyght and see none, bycause it shyt not vppe the [Page] wombe that bare me. Alas whye died I not euen in my birth? why dydde not I perisshe as sone as I came out of my mothers wombe? why set they me vpō theyr knees, that nowe do brynge them all ey­ther to deathe, or shame, felowe to any deathe? Whye gaue they me sucke with theyr brestes, that now haue lefte no bloud ne life in their bodies? Wherfore is light gyuen to hym that is in miserie, and lyfe to them that haue heuy hartis, life to them that longe for deathe, and serche for it more than euer they dyd for any treasure? Thou maist o wycked traytour say, what thou lyste, but thou canste thynke lyttel better of thy selfe, thanne all thy countrey thinkith. This I know, thou hast causes mo than a thou­sande to say all this and more to. [Page] The byshop of Rome & his god­ly sowers of treson, thought they had spun a wonderful fine threde, and weaued a gay pece of worke, whan they gate this Raynarde to play the traytour in a Cardinals apparell, thinkynge, ye and kno­wynge by their longe experience, no garmente so fitte for oone that wolde take suche an enterprise v­pon him. This is a wede, that sel­dome gro wethe, where any good corne is, but it hath the ouerhand and distroyeth it gayely. He was made, yea marie was he, a great legate, sent with moche authori­tie, but he retourned as wyse as they that thought he coulde haue wroughte myracles. The sworde was sēt to the king of Scottis before, we being than encōbred with sedition and rebellyon at home, [Page] this gay legate rydeth after, to se whether ne were able to make the kynge of Scottes to pulle it oute of the sheath, and vse it according to his intente that gaue hym the gyft. was there euer beast, so ma­liciousely sette to vndo his coun­trey, for the whiche many menne haue gladly dyed? or euer any sto­nye hart, that so enuironned with a kynges benefites, wold let none of theym enter into it? so blynde, that in suche a nomber coulde see none? so vngrate, that seinge soo many, wolde be moued by none of theym? What can thyn enne­mies, whiche are not only all en­glyshemen, but as many as euer knewe whatte honestie meaneth, what can they all wyshe the wors, than that thou mayste neuer dye, and euer fele that, that traytours [Page] of thy sorte are sure to fele? But percase, as all our countrey men do deteste and abhorre this pesty­lent Cardinal, as the vnnatural­lest beaste, that euer prince besto­wed benefite on: so, fewe or none do knowe, howe moche the mar­quese of Exetter, and the lorde Montacute, this traytours bro­ther, were bounde to the kynges highnes.

Fyrst the Marquise of Exceters father, by king Hēry the .vii. most noble father to our moste dradde soueraygne lorde that nowe reyg­neth, was for certayne treasons committed to prison, where he lay in teoperdie of losse of landes and lyfe, vntyll the deathe of the sayd kynge. And not withstandynge there were gret and weighty mat­ters layde ayenst hym, yet our so­uerayne [Page] lorde that nowe is, didde not only pardon hym of his lyfe, and restore him to his landes and honoure, but toke this his sonne into his priuie chaumber, vsynge hym there moch more lyke a com­panyon, than a seruaunt, always encreasynge his landes and reue­nues after suche sorte, that if he hadde nat bene to vnnaturall, he coulde neuer haue loued his own lyfe halfe so moch, as the kynges welth & honour. A cruell change, for most loue, to rēder grettest ha­tred. O fondnes, who might not haue ben content to serue suche a mayster, to be subiecte to suche a prince, yea, what mā being thone and not thother, being a subiect & not a prince, wolde not rather de­syre to do his duetie to so noble, so gentle, so hygh a prince, so louing [Page] a mayster, then for to take frome hym his maiestie, yea, though he were sure to bryng his trayterous purpose to effect? But what thing doth not blinde ambitiō attempt? his mouthe was euer full of these pratye sayinges, I truste to see a chaunge of this worlde, knaues rule about the kynge: but I trust one day to gyue them a buffet. he can be no subiecte, that shall buf­fet rulers aboute a kynge, no, he thought to be none, when he com­maunded Kendall his manne to make as many men in a redynes as he coulde, whiche myght serue within an houres warnynge. He thoughte to haue worne the gar­lande, when he tolde his frendes, I truste to haue a fayre daye ouer these knaues that rule aboute the kyng: I trust to se a mery worlde [Page] one daye. But yet se howe he was. deceyued, god that hath wether at wyll, wolde not so moche as gyue hym a fayre daye to dye in, all his mirthe is ended for this worlde, al ioye is paste, he is gone, and hath lefte to his sonne and heyre no­thynge but sorowe, nothynge but myserye, excepte the kynge of his mercye beare hym more loue then his father dyd. These be the fayre days that god sendeth vnto tray­tours, this is the myrthe that they come to: our lorde sende all tray­tours the lyke myrthe. Surelye they that be as these were, do but deceyue theym selfes, if they loke for any better ende then they had. God punissheth none so soone as vngrate persons, bycause he wold haue vs not vngrate vnto hym. And yet he hathe euermore gre­uously [Page] punisshed suche as shulde rebell and worke sedition against theyr hedes & rulers. Chore Da­than and Abiron, maye make all men that canne lerne to aduoyde theyr owne hurte by theyr neygh­bours, obey, where they ought to obey, serue where they oughte to serue, and not to repine, ne to take vpon them rule, where god hath appoynted them to be ruled. You may rede howe god scurged these thre, howe the erthe brake vnder theyr fete, and swalowed them vp with theyr tabernacles & all theyr substaunce, howe they went alyue into hell, there testyfyenge what punishement god hath prepared for rebelles, for traytours, for men disobedient to theyr hedes and ru­lers. What loste our fyrste father Adam by his gay enterprise, whi­che [Page] thought to haue a fayre daye, a merye tyme? What loste he for ones disobeinge, for theatynge of an apple? a small thynge, but e­uen all mankynd. He was in Pa­radise a place pleasaunt, beyonde all pleasures, almoste all howres talkynge with god almyghty, the eatynge of an apple brought him, that he durste not shewe his face. God cryeth to hym: Adam where arte thou? oute of what pleasure haste thou put thy selfe? and in to what myserye? I maye saye, O Marques, where art thou? where is the fayre day thou lokedest for? where is thye garlande? Some men perchaunce woll saye, they haue suffered for theyr trespasse, they shulde nowe be at rest. I an­swere, thynges are written not so moche for malyce to the men, as [Page] for the hatred that euery man ow­eth to treason. There is no writer that can set theyr name and fame in worse case then it is. All shame is in them, whom treson hath de­fyled. The raunsome of treason is more thā losse of life and goodes. Mens tonges and pennes, whan deathe hath done what she maye, are bounde to worke ayenste trai­tours as moch as they may. Traitours are euen styll to be rated, no lesse then if they were a lyue and styll in fulle pourpose to brynge theyr tresons to passe.

¶Nowe on the other syde, was the lorde Mountacute nothynge in the kynges debte? was not also his mothers landes loste, she a poore gentyll woman, dwellynge amonge the systers of the Syon, he a poore gentyll manne, not ha­uynge [Page] a fote of lande towarde his lyuynge? was it not a thynge wor­thy thankes, to comme from no­thynge to .iii. or .iiii. thousande marke lande, his mother to haue this for her lyfe, and he to enherite it after her decease? had not this traytour cause to haue ben a true subiecte to his prynce, a trewe ser­uante to his mayster? was he not bound aboue a great sort of men, to loue the kinges welthe and ho­nour, to serue his maiestye with all loyall harte and obeysaunce. Myghte not this fonde or rather detestable traytour, haue talked & dreamed of other thynges, then of the kynges deathe, whiche oure lord kepe of, euen as longe as na­ture with his helpe may maintein lyfe, and all other that wold other wyse, to folowe Montacute and [Page] his felowes? Myght not he haue ben content with this world, and the state he was nowe in, leauyng his lewde prophecies of the world to come of the tyme that shoulde make hym & his mery, if he might tary it? he might, if god had not ben as contente to leaue hym, as he was desyrefull to flee god, and to kepe downe his worde and te­stament. For as goddes ioye is to be with men, that take ioye of his presence, so beinge lefte and forsa­ken, though his desyre be to do o­therwise, he leueth and forsaketh. This I dare say, if these men had not ben enemies to the gospel, ha­ters of goddis worde, they coulde neuer haue fallen in to suche an abhomynable sorte of treasons. Who knoweth not how these, that are now deed, howe the Marques [Page] and Montacute abhorred not on­ly all readynge of scripture, but al so all reders of it. It was a cryme iudged greate inoughe for to put any theyr seruauntes out of ser­uyse, if they were spyed with a newe testamente in theyr handes. whether Reynolde that traytour, put this in theyr heedes, or whe­ther god thought it best, that they had chaplayns accordyng to their hartes, menne desyrefull to kepe them styll from the knowlege of their duties, from the light of god dis worde, whiche they hated a­boue all thynges, I woll not dis­cusse: the sayinge is, they bothe dyd well theyr partes. As for Rei­nolde, I am assured, he ceased not to kepe his bretherne in errour, which sent his mother word, that if he knewe her to be of the same [Page] opinion, that y^e king is of, he wold treade her vnder his fete, mother his, as she was. What beast could vse suche langage to his mother, excepte he had vtterlye forgotten the reuerence, that nature techeth all creatures toward their paren­tes? what pestilent harte reigneth in hym, that hath suche a rancour to goddis worde, suche a stomake ayenste the truthe? Thou, thou Raynolde art the very pole, from whense is poured all this poison. Thou haste slaine thy brother, the Marques and thyne other bro­ther was at deathes doore. But for as moche as it pleased god to saue Geffreys lyfe, and to tourne the vyolence of the knyfe to his saluation, to the safetie of the kin­ges highnes, and to the welthe of the hole realme, the kynges grace [Page] takethe it to be goddis pleasure, that Geffrey yet die not, and hath pardoned hym all his offences so that his clemēcie hath saued Gef­frey, whome thy knauishe letters and messangers had broughte to the galowes. Great pitie it is, so sayth he, and al the rest, that euer thou sawst lyght. Say what thou canst, poure out thy poyson, sem­ble, dissemble, the wrathe of god layeth vp sorowes for the, thou shalte neuer escape his handes, thy cappe, thy hatte wolle couer treason no longer than he lysteth: they wylle beare of but easylye, whan he begynneth to smyte. I playnely protest, I am thyn ene­my, and sommetyme wolde fayne here tell, that thou were serued as thy demerites he: sommetyme I wyshe the to lyue euer, neuer oute [Page] of shame, alwayes in infamye, with all the reste of suche compa­nyons as wayte vpon traitours. ¶The byshoppe of Rome, great captayn of errours, hath as fitte a chapleyne of hym, as he coulde haue picked out in an hole world. The byshoppe wolde nothyng to be written ageynste suche abuses, suche idolatrie, suche heresies as he maynteyneth. Reynolde wolle in noo case reade any thynge, that dothe not maynteyne al thre, they bothe agree in this, to make their abode, to sticke and vtterly cleaue in that, they sucked in, of their er­ronious nurse, Longe Custome.

There be many in England, that knowe Reynolde right well, there is not one of them all, that canne say and lye not, that he wol either abide any writer, any preacher, or [Page] any priuate cōmoner, that swar­ueth from his trade.

¶Alexander beinge al his lyfe in warres, toke it to be an excedinge foly for a iudge to pronounce his sentence, hearynge but thone par­tie, and had in custom, whan any tale was brought to hym agaynst any man, to stoppe one of his ea­res, sayenge to theym that asked hym what he ment by doinge soo, I muste kepe one eare for his an­swere, that nowe is accused. Pole hath redde moche, whiche thinge dothe steye a man in errour, and not help hym out of it, if he chaw the sence of scripture, as he lyste, and wrynge oute suche iuyce, as his fantasy corrupted afore, there nowe seketh. Saynte Paule had readde moche, euen whan he per­secuted Christis flocke, and of no [Page] thynge so moche as of scripture. You see men coulde neuer tourne his hart. God hym selfe was fain to put to his voyce, to stryke his bodye blynde, and to enlyghten ther with his soule. Saynt Au­gustine had redde moch, and was very conuersant in the scriptures, & yet he was a great whyle in the heresyes of the Manichees, and thought that scripture was of his syde. Many disputed with hym, they all founde, that stubburnesse dothe no where so moch hurte, as whan it lyghteth vpon great wit­tes, furnished with moch lerning. Plato saith, smalle wyttes do ne­uer moche hurt in a comon weale, the great be they that do the great hurte. The bysshoppe of Rome thought Pole bothe of great ler­nynge and of great parentage, so [Page] that euen polycie taughte hym a ioly poynt of folye. The bysshop thoughte to worke by him a feate mete for oone in his place. Pole cam somwhat to late into France, at the laste commotion. If he had comme in season, he wolde haue playde an hardier part than Aske dyd, he wolde surely haue ieoper­ded bothe his eyes, where Aske ventured but one. He wolde haue had not only a foote in their bote, but in spite of Aske and his com­pany, wold haue ruled the sterne. He came to late, great pite, he had not putte Aske oute of his office. Howe be it whan he sent Holland with his message to Geffreye his brother, that they shuld not sturre while he came, he thought to be at the begynnyng of the breakefast, to the whiche the Marques was [Page] bydding styl his gestes. He wold haue brought in that mery world, which his brother Montacute stil loked for, euermore afrayde leste he and his shoulde not tarye that mery tyme. Why was he afrayde trowe ye? he was no sycke man, his yeres were not soo many, but he moughte haue lyued for age a great season. He feared, it wolde chaunce as it nowe hath done, he thought treson could not so lōg be kept close. O Reynolde, you haue taryed to longe for hym. He may wyshe as many a man dothe, that ye had ben hanged the day before, you sente that message home. he woll not sturre, whyle you come. God put it in your hedde to take your viage shortly. Thy capitain and thou both, with his hole clou­try of Carnalles, wepe I dare say [Page] yet, to remember the Northerne insurrection, to here suche a rage, suche a furie of people, so swaged, so quietted, no stroke stroken. You feare, you feare, ye haue good cause so to do, leste other prynces do gather therby, both the syngu­ler loue of god towarde our moste godly kynge, and also the hatred that he beareth to your pestylente ambitiō, abhominable lyues, and doctryne moche worse then your liuing. Certes to say as I thinke, it were great pitie ye shoulde lyue any better then ye do, excepte you wolde fyrste agree, that god and his worde myght reygne, and you serue your prynces accordynge to it. He that had dwelte in the styn­kynge chanal of Paule Bishoppe of Rome, his bosome, or in the synke of Pole & his fellowes sto­makes, [Page] that day, that the newes were brought to Rome, of thende of our hurly burly in the Northe, he shoulde haue sene them stryken in a wonderfull dompe, he shulde haue sene griping at their hartes, syghes walkynge to and froo, at sorowes commaundment. Sure­ly they hadde no myschaunce this many yeres so great, as was that our good chance, to them. There came noo plage of god this longe season vppon theym, that moued them more, then that so manyfeste the goodnes of god shewed vpon vs. Ah lord, thy prouidēce is won­derful, thou blyndest, thou geuest lyght, thou hardnest, thou dost en­tre where thy pleasure is. Some runne faste, and yet come shorte, bycause they lose the waye: some tary long, and yet be formest. thou [Page] appoyntest a tyme to call in thyne electe, that wander, thou turneste theyr hartes to the, when thy plea­sure is, that straied amonges thē, whiche were and be ferdest frome the. Of all the miracles and won­ders of our time, I take the chāge of our soueraygne lordes opinion in matters concerninge Religion, to be euen the gretest. There was no prynce in Christendome, but he was farre liker to haue chaunged then our soucrayne lorde, he was theyr pyller, and bare them vppe a great whyle: they gaue hym faire titles for his so doinge, and hono­rid his name in al their writingis, was it not a wonderfull worke of god, to get his grace from them to hym? To make hym theyr ouer­throwe, whom they had chosen for theyr defēsour? I haue oft hidden [Page] my countreye menne to marke the procedynges of god, sythens this change, with HENRY the VIII. his chosen lieutenāt in England, and our onely lorde and heed vn­der Christe and his father, I styll say, as I haue sayde, who so mar­keth, howe tenderlye god preser­ueth his highnes, he is eyther ex­cedynge blynde, or els he wel per­ceyueth god to be ennemye to all thē that loue not his grace. Wher­before he was callyd kynge, and yet had ayenst all right and equi­tie a ruler aboue hym, whiche al­wayes enforced hym selfe to kepe his hyghnesse, and all the reste of his subiectes in seruitude, errour, and idolatrie. God hathe made him, as al his noble progenitours of right ought to haue ben, a full kyng▪ that is, a ruler, and natru­led [Page] in his owne kyngedome, as o­ther were. God hath deliuered his highnes from the bondage of the byshoppe of Rome, his subiectes from errors, his realme from the foule sinne of idolatry. Ignorāce, a childe that the byshop of Rome lefte here, with his monkes and friers to be fostred, & made strōge, is takynge her leaue, wolde god her passeport were made, and she sente frome whens she came. But she hath ben so cherished, so made of in this realme, that lothe she is to departe. She hath many fren­des, and trustethe by the helpe of them to be made denyzen, and soo to chaunge her apparel, and to do moche more hurt in parishe chur­ches, thā euer she dyd in cloisters. But I truste, as god hath shewed what hurte commeth of her and [Page] hers, so he wyll prouide a way, to see, that she and hers haue lesse to do. The people begynne to know what they that be curates oughte to preache, and what they arboūd to folowe, and yet they do but be­gynne. Wolde god some were ap­poynted to take them forthe newe lessons. They haue longe sithens begon to knowe their duetie to­ward god, their obedience to their prince, the loue they ow vnto their neighbours, and yet they be styll atte the begynninge. For yf they were fully taught, but in these .iii. poyntes, I dare promyse, my lyfe to lye vppon it, the fruites of this knowledge shuld be such, as wold enforce all christian princis, to fo­lowe the steppes of oure noble prince. I remember howe kynge Iosaphat sente many of his no­bles [Page] with prechers, that is, trewe setters oute of the worde of god, throughe all Iurie, and howe all the worlde feared his power, after that god was preched in his king dome. I truste as our moste pru­dente kynge ceasseth nat to sende his holsome and godly proclama­tions abrode, that so one day men shall be sent after them, to se what effecte they take, what successe cō ­meth of them, where they worke, & where they be ydle, where they haue fre passage, and where they be stopped. But leauyng newe oc­casions, whiche leade me to newe purposes, I wol returne, and fo­lowe that I toke in hande. This laste sedition, besyde many other commodities, that it wrought in this realme, hathe made the peo­ple, and in especial those where it [Page] reigned moste, very glad to here, very desyrefull to make amendes to God and their Prince, for that they offended bothe afore. I haue herde dyuers men say, that three or foure preachers may doo more good in the northe coūtray in two or thre monethes, than hath bene done in these southe parties, these two or thre yeres, only bicause the people be so redy to take what so euer the preacher shall offer vnto theym: soo that if the people be naught styll, the faute is no more theirs, for they wold fain be good. They se god louith no rebellions, no disobedience, if god had done nothynge for the kynge, sythens that tyme, was not that one bene­fyte inoughe, to bynde his grace, and all theym that loue this his realme, euermore to thynke vpon [Page] goddis goodnes alwayes to giue hym thākes, and yet styl to thinke thankes vngyuen? All bokes can shewe, no suche sedition so quie­ted, no suche rage soo peasibly as­swaged, and yet at the fyrste, as al men lyked the ende, soo was there an other thyng, that men, whiche fauour the peace and quietnes of our countrey, thought somewhat amysse. Menne were wonderfull gladde, that harneys was put of, and weapons layde downe, but they were sorie, that the deceyuers of the simple & pore subiectis, had after their pestilent pilgremages, pardon. It is ofte to be remem­bred, howe god prouided both for the sorte deceyued, and also howe vpon newe treason committed, he wolde the ranke capitaynes, to te­stifie vpō the gallowes, that trai­tours [Page] muste come to shamefulle deathe. And yet is there more, euen concernynge the same matter, to be marked. where as it plesed the kyng of his clemency and tender loue, that his grace beareth to the lyfe of his subiectes, to satisfye the rigor of the lawes, with a few of their dethes, god hath this last sommer by strange kinde of syck­nes, welle declared vnto the com­mons of the northe, that he was nat contented so fewe were puni­shed, where so many offēded. And as the sicknes plagued them sore, so I thynke god pycked a greate sorte in other countreys, suche as he knew had hartes euyl inough, thoughe their dedes were vnkno­wen. It is not to be left vnspokē, that a generall plague reignyng in al the north, and in many other [Page] parties of the realme, London, a citie for the more parte yerely vi­sited with great deathe, hadde in maner no syckenesse in it. Lette other menne laye the cause where they thinke beste, I do surely sup­pose, that as god punyshed them for their treasons, soo he shewed vnto the Lōdoners, that the way to haue hym mercyfull and good to theym, is that that they are in, though not setled, yet a great part of theym well entred. All be it we be forgetfull, and haue styll nede of some, to putte vs in mynde of goddis goodnesse toward vs, yet I woll not nowe speke of the tre­sure whiche he gaue this realme, what ioye and comforte he sent to all trewe englysshe men, whan he sent vnto our soueraigne lord, his dere and noble sonne, oure deere [Page] and noble prince Edward. I trust it nedith not, I trust there be none of vs, either so blynde, that we see not, howe moch Englande oweth vnto god, for his byrth, for his preseruatiō, for such his towardnes, as was neuer sene in chylde, by al mens assent the lyke, either so vn­grate, but he herynge of this no­ble princis growyng, and waxing to a kynge, to the sceptre of this his right inheritance, woll with al his harte, desyre god both to kepe hym longe frome the scepter, and longer in it than euer was his fa­ther before hym. I say, I wyl nat speake of his grace, neither of the goodnes of god powred vpon vs, and all ours, by his byrthe. No, I woll make as foule a chaunge as euer ye sawe or herde of. I wolle go from hym (whome the loue to [Page] god and his father reserued) we ought to loue, aboue all thynges, and intreate of theym, whome, yf they were alyue, all Englyshmen ought aboue al creatures to hate. And yet I wyl not so gladly talke of theym, as of the goodnesse of god shewid to vs by their occasiō. ¶O lorde, in what danger hath the kynges hyghnesse bene, these xiii. or .xiiii. yeres? For euen al this space, there haue ben in his gra­cis priuie chaumber, that frome tyme to time haue not only vttred the secretes of his counselle and chamber, but also haue practised with his most enemyes, and done what they coulde to hynder his graces godly procedynges? Was it not a syngular prouydence of god, that the Marques of Exet­tour, was put oute of the preuye [Page] chaumber, vppon noo deserte, I thynke at that tyme knowen, but euen that god put it in the kinges heed so to do? Is it nat to be mer­uayled, that he and Edward Ne­uyll, a couple worthy all mennes hatrede, a couple ioyned in trai­terous intentes, beinge soo longe togither about his highnes owne persone, dyd no more hurte? Is it not more meruayle, that thone be­inge put out of the priuie chaum­ber, thother attempted nothinge? Men that know not the goodnes of god towarde his electe rulers, may meruaile at al these thinges, but let vs laude god for them all, & assure our selues, that god woll not suffre a prince, whom he hath chosen, to greatter affaires, than grosse heedes can attayne vnto, to be vyolated of his trayterous [Page] subiectes. God hath ioyned with the maiestie of a kynge, suche a feare, that false hartes haue noo power, to offre wrong to a prince, thoughe all oportunities seme to serue them: wherfore if we list to meruail, let vs a litle while intrete of the disclosyng of these tresons.

Syr Geffry Pole was cōmitted to the towre, neyther the kynges hyghnes, nor any of the counsaile suspectynge either the Marques, eyther the lorde Montacute his brother, or syr Edward Neuyll, of any of al these thynges, that they were founde giltie of. Geffrey be­inge in the towre, hauynge his breste full of wytnesses agaynste him selfe, agaynste his brotherne, ayenst the Marques, was brought into such a thronge of thoughtes, into suche a conflycte of pensiers, [Page] that bloud and nature, workinge on thone syde, god & conscience on thother, he was caried into suche a perplexitie, that he coulde, nei­ther condiscende to accuse his bro­ther, his cousyn syr Edwarde Ne­uyll, and hym selfe, chyefe of all, endaungeryng all foure, with the gylte of treason, nor yet vtterlye withstande, the workynge of god and his conscyence, within hym: whiche ofte put in his mynde, ra­ther to suffer them and hym selfe to, bodely to be brought to death, then to goo body and soule to the deuyll. This motion ranne oft in his heed, but the dyuell, continu­all aduersarye to goddis honour and mans welthe, put in his fote, and soo toste this wretched soule, that of many euelles, he chose e­uen the worste of all, which was a [Page] ful purpose, to slee hym selfe. The cōmodities of his death were ma­ny, as the dyuel made them to the shewe, his brother shulde liue stil, theyr famylie continue in honour, the lorde Marques shoulde haue greate cause to loue all his bloud, whiche hadde kylled hym selfe to saue him, with many suche fanta­syes, as desperate menne fynde, to helpe them to theyr ende. He was fully perswaded to slee hym selfe. Desperation hadde wroughte her feate, nowe see howe oportunitie made all thynges redye for hym, his keper was absente, a knyfe at hande vppon the table, he rysethe out of his bed, & taketh the knyfe, and with full intente to dye, gaue hym selfe a stabbe with the knyfe vppon the breste. The deuyll lac­keth strength, where god hath a­ny [Page] thinge to do, and can better be­gynne thynges, then brynge them to effecte. The deuyll had played his parte, nowe se howe god, as he ofte dothe, tourned all the de­uels hole worke, to his glory, and Geffreyes saluation. The knyfe was blunte, and so dyd perse: but the wounde as god wolde, was not mortall, and yet for as moche as bloud came after the wounde, Geffrey began at the last, to feare god, to feare hel, to remember into what case the deuyll had brought hym, and then beganne to deteste the slaughter of hym self, to wishe he had opened al to gether, rather then to haue loste his bodye and soule after that sorte. He nowe be­ganne to caste, whiche waye he mought apease the wrothe & ven­geance of god, redy as he thought [Page] to hurle hym in to hell. He nowe caste his counte after an nother sort, drede of deathe whiche as he thoughte wolde haue folowed the wounde, beganne to teache him a new lesson, his brother, his cosen, syr Edwarde Neuylle, nowe wai­ed as moche with hym as they oughte to do, he sawe before hym the losse of his soule, and thought it moche better, they loste theyr he­des: he sawe in what daunger he shulde leaue his soueraygne lord, whose benefyttes, beganne nowe to muster before hym, and the vele of malyce layde asyde, to tourne his harte: he sawe the damages, the slaughters, that myght come to his countrey: he sawe it not pos­sible, that god shuld be any thing good to hym, whiche shulde con­ceale the destruction of soo many. [Page] In so moche that nowe he, which wolde haue dyed, to saue his bro­therne and cousyn, desyred life, for no cause so moche, as y^t he might brynge them to that they had de­serued: and thervpon of his own mynde, no man requirynge hym to it, no manne thynkynge of any suche thynge, he desyred to speake with the lieutenant of the toure, and after to speake with some of the kinges priuie coūsel, to whom whan they came, he as a man styl lokynge whan the wounde shuld haue ended his lyfe, disclosed all the hole treasons. Thus the dy­uels subtyl prouision of the knife, of his beinge alone, of perswa­ding him to abuse the knife to his distruction, vtterlye deceiued the dyuell, all his gynnes, al his craf­tis, now being turned ayenst hym [Page] selfe all the hurt that might haue come to his aduersaries, god and those that loue and seke his glory, nowe redoundyng vpon his own heed, wylle ye haue a sure token, that this is the worke of god? ye haue herde of the message, which Reynold sent to his brethern, that is, y^t they in no wyse shulde sturre vntyll his cōmyng. ye may know, who was author of so godly a message. Who but the deuil, author of al dissention, al rebellion, all trea­son, could be either of coūsell with him that sente suche a message, or with theym that wolde kepe it se­crete. If he were thautor of it, thā coulde he nat be the vtterer of it also: his kyngedome must nedes falle, if he fyght ayenst hym selfe. God, god brought it to lyghte, as one that hath taken vpon hym to [Page] defende his trewe and faithfulle ministre, kynge Henry the eight. God hath disclosed all, vsynge su­che wayes, that all menne maye knowe, it is onely he, that coulde do suche a thinge. A man wolde thynke it vnpossyble, that where no force, no violence, no tourmen­tes are vsed, fleshe, bloudde, and nature coulde suffer one brother to brynge the other to his deathe. Some woll say, he lacked no tor­mentes, as longe as he had treson waltrynge in his hart. A traitour whether he be so taken or nat, can lacke no scourginge, whan he is moste alone. He hath his whyppe in his bosom, and playeth the tor­mentour him selfe for lacke of an officer. I wol not say, but Geffrey Pole, felt suche tormentes, no I must nedes grāt, he was shreudly [Page] scourged, that thought it an ease to rydde hym selfe of it by dethe.

They be of lyke no small peynes, that make the pacient glad to slee his body, and damne his soule for the arrydance of thē. But yet as I sayd, he had no outwarde tormē ­tis, no racking, no manicles, no he was put in fere of none of al these peines, but enforced by god, as I take it, and as he hym selfe sayde at the barre it was, frankely vtte­red, not onely ayenste his brother and cousyn, but ayenste suche, as whan they came to the barre, grā ­ted them selfis giltie, without any verdite of quest. But of these last, I wyll nothing speake, all be it I take them to be as worthy eternal infamy as the fyrst, but great men of byrth, bicause blode is disteined by treson, & their family taken frō [Page] them, ar those that ought to be set forth in theyr colours. It is I saye again, a wonder to se, one brother bring an other (moche loue being betwene them, and no cause of ha­tred) to his deathe. It were a wonder surely, if one had not taken the matter in hande, whiche can when him lust, bothe vanquishe nature, and trede the deuyll with his hole power vnder his fete. They two kepte those treasons vnder locke and key. God is and euer hath bē lorde of nature, conquerer of the deuyll, and can compel both when hym lusteth, to set forth his glory. But nowe, where we see, whose goodnes it is, that treasons are knowen, and traytours made a­waye, lette vs not forgette to gyue hym thankes, that thus waketh, and in maner wayteth, to saue vs [Page] harmeles. Is it possible, that a mā not forced, shoulde swere vppon a boke, hym selfe to be a traytour, hym selfe of al men to be most worthy deathe. Syr Geffrey hath ofte taken this othe, So hath Croftes and Colyns also: the other, all the tyme of theyr arraynement, stode styffe, with castyng vp of eies and handes, as though those thynges had ben neuer herd of before, that thenne were laide to theyr charge. The Marques, of al the rest stack hardest, and made as thoughe he had ben very clere in many poyn­tes, yet in some he staggered, and was very sory so to do, nowe cha­langyng the kynges pardon, now takynge benefytte of the acte, and when al wolde not serue, he began to charge Geffrey Pole with fren­sye, with foly, and madnesse. It is [Page] moche to be noted, what answere Geffrey made to the Marques in this poynte. Some men, saythe Geffreye (as I here) laye to my charge, that I shulde be out of my wytte, and in a frensye. Trouth it is, I was out of my wytte, and in a great frenesy, when I fell with theym in conference, to be a tray­tour, disobediente to god, false to my prynce, and enemye to my na­tiue countraye. I was also out of my wytte, and stryken with a sore kynde of madnesse, when I chose rather to kil my self, thā to charge thē with such tresons, as I knewe wolde coste them theyr lyues, if I dyd vtter them. But our lorde be thanked, god wrought better with me, then I thought to haue doone with my selfe. He hath saued my soule at the leste. the knyfe wente [Page] not so farre as I wolde haue had it gone: his goodnes it is, that I haue not slayne my selfe: his mer­cye, that I was delyuered frome that frensye of kyllynge my selfe: his worke, that I haue declared my self, my brother, the Marques, with the rest, to be traytours. And where I thought, said Geffrey, rather to haue putte my soule in ha­sarde, for the sauing of these men, god I thanke hym, so wrought in me, and so chaunged my mynde, that if I had had tenne brothern, yea tenne sonnes, I wolde rather bringe them all to this perylle of deathe, than leaue my countreye, my souerayne lord, and myn own soule in suche daunger, as they al thre stode in, if I had kepte these treasons secrete. Let vs, lette vs dye, we be but a fewe, better we [Page] haue accordynge to our desertes, thā our hole coūtrei to be brought to ruyne. O what a lorde is god, whom can a traytour trust, whan one brother is so desyrefull to vt­ter an others treason? yea whan y^e traytour hym selfe, no man com­pelling hym, vttreth his own tre­son? whom may we trust, whā we our selues, desyre to disclose oure selues? Treson can not lye longer hyd, thā while it ripeth, for yf it be ones melowe, the sauour streight, for the moste parte, bewrayeth the howrde. Geffrey hath neuer bene taken for any plesant or sage tal­ker, his witte was wont to serue his tong but so so. I dare say, they that were the wisest of the kingis moste honourable counsayle, dyd moch wōder that day, to here him tel his tale, and loked for nothyng [Page] lesse, than that he shulde haue soo handlyd him selfe. God is a mer­uayllous god, he can make bothe whan him lust, and whom he wol eloquēt, wise, pithie. He can make the tōges of the domme serue his elect, whan his wyl is. The Mar­ques was styffe at the barre, and stode faste in denial of most thin­ges layd to his charge, yet in som he foyled and staggerde, in suche sorte, that all menne might see his countenance, to auouch that, that his tonge could nat without mo­che foltring deny. But at the scaf­folde, whan he sawe, mens othes, with a multitude of wytnesses ta­ken, and his sturdy denyall not to saue his lyfe, he began eyther to waye dyshonour lesse than he dyd at the barre, or els to thynke, that dishonour standith in doing trai­trously, [Page] rather than in confessyng of it, whan it is knowen to be so, deathe at hande, taught him and his felowes, to prouyde for the safetie of their soules, and to leue the regard of honour there on the scaffolde with their bodies. They dyd all thre acknowlege their of­fences towarde the kinge, and de­syred all men that were there pre­sent, to pray god to forgyue them. They be gone, our lorde I truste, which gaue them repentance, wol also take theym to his mercy, and yet saue their soules. The thinge they feared, is come vppon them, they might not tary the tyme, they plowed treason, they sowed sedy­tion, noo meruayle yf they reape deathe. Wherefore let vs, whyche in one houre, haue escaped so ma­ny sorowes, so present calamities, [Page] so imminente mischeues, saye as Iudith sayd, whan she retourned▪ with Holofernes his heed in her lappe, Laude and praise be giuen to the lord, that forsakest not them that put their trust in the. Let him be gloryfied for euer of vs, that vncalled is thus preast and redye to defend them that were nigh the brinke of pardicion, and sawe it not, vntyll he plucked them by the sleue. Hitherto ye haue hard, how traytrously these vnnatural trai­tours entēded, you haue sene how the goodnes of god, as wel nowe, as in many other thynges, hathe preserued the kynges hyghnes, & brought his enemies to shameful death, now this thinge remaineth alone, what cause coulde moue them, that were so moche bounde to theyr lorde and mayster, to fall [Page] into such horrible treasons. He li­ueth not I dare say that can finde any iuste cause for any subiecte to be a traytour to his soueraygne lorde. And I am well assured, all men that haue any spot of hone­stie in them, wol thinke these wor­thy to be taken for traytours, yf they had but ones thoughte hurte vnto his personne, of whom they had receyued so many benefyttes. There is no cause, & yet me thin­keth I fynd one, whiche although it be not iuste, yet is it of suche strength and efficacie, that it can worke almoste no lesse then it dyd in these. I say and thynke, who so euer is of theyr opiniō in matters of relygyon, that he can loue the kynges hyghnes, noo better then they dyd▪ who s [...] is a papiste, an enemye to goddis worde, he may [Page] well lacke power, or stomacke, to vtter treason, but he can not lacke a trayterous hart. what so euer he be, that thynketh the byshoppe of Rome supreme hed of our church of Englande, can neuer beare the kynge suche an harte, as a trewe subiecte oweth his souerain lord. No, I saye more, he can in no case loue his highnes, he can not chose but be a traytour. It is to be so­rowed and lamented greatly, that noble men woll thus fondely caste them selues away, great wonder, greater pitie, and greatest shame, that they, hauing the word of god in theyr owne tonge, woll not yet lerne, what a kynge is, and what a bysshop, what lordes owe vnto thone, and what they may requyre of thother. My purpose was to haue handled a good sorte of pla­ces, [Page] whiche I haue gathered out of the scripture, & doctours both, makynge for the mayntenance of the kynges supremytye, and also shakynge downe that arrogante and vsurped power of the bisshop of Rome. I had soo done, but that I sawe this boke, some what with the longest, and well perceyued, y^t thother wold haue ben moch lon­ger, then this is. I haue differred it for a while, but god wyllynge, I woll as sone as I can, for the ser­uice I owe vnto nobilitie, and the rest my contrey men, followe that whiche god wyll prycke me to, thoughe feble wyt and weake po­wer drawe neuer so fast backe. In the meane season, I humblye be­seche all men, so to take these my labours, that I maye with cou­rage set vpon thother, whiche as [Page] they woll be moche greatter, so my truste is, they shall be moche more profytable. They maye so be, and shall so be, if it please hym, whiche worketh all that well is wrought, vnto whom be all honour, al glo­rye, for euer and euer. Amen.