A breefe Aunswer made vnto two seditious Pamphlets, the one printed in French, and the other in English. Contayning a defence of Edmund Campion and his compli­ces, their moste horrible and vnnaturall Treasons, a­gainst her Maiestie and the Realme. By A. M.

Honos alit Artes.

¶ Imprinted at London by Iohn Charlewood, dwel­ling in Barbican, at the signe of the halfe Eagle and Key. 1582.

¶ TO THE RIGHT Honourable Sir Fraun­ces Walsingham, Knight, principall Secretarie to her Maie­stie, and one of her Highnesse moste Honourable priuie Councell: Antony Munday, vvisheth the happie con­tinaunce of earthly Honour, as also to be partaker of the endlesse ioy in the life to come.

COMPARING THE passed course of time (Right Honourable) with the succeding con­tinuance: I fynde that neither state, Prince or people, which might with moste authoritie make [Page] boast, either for royaltie of Gouerne­ment, or tranquilitie of yeeres: but at one time or other they haue felt the maligne stroke of Fortune, either by enuye of princely rule, ambitious desire of vnstable prefermēt, or some tragicall and wicked intent, issuing from the roote of all disloyaltie, Treason. In vaine it were to spend time in repetition of circumstaūces, to make proofe either of the one or the other: our eyes are filled with the registred reportes heereof, and our eares made acquainted, with a mul­titude of vnhappy accidents, yea, the more my greefe to thinke thereon, our natiue Countrey hath lately witnessed, a Stratagem according with former infortunes. But al­though mallice, in diuers of these vngracious acts, had purposed and appointed a wished end of his bloo­dy desire; yet notwithstanding his [Page] extremest occasions, some one or other haue beene reserued, to giue warning of such mischeeuous and iminent daungers; where through, the Prince and People haue beene happily deliuered, and mallice alto­gether vtterly disappointed. In re­compence of which true and loyall seruice, the faithfull perfourmers thereof, haue not onely attained the worthy fauour of their Soueraigne, but also haue beene enritched with the continuall looue and amitie of the Subiectes.

These things (right Honou­rable) ioyntlye considered toge­ther, with the late occasions so happily preuented, to see time growne to such an iron and repro­bate nature, contrarie to that it hath beene in the aforenamed dayes; I am not onely confounded in a number of dismaying thoughts, but also ac­count [Page] my selfe as altogether vn­happy.

It is not vnkowen to your Ho­nour, in what occasions passed, fore­telling an vnlooked for cause of daunger, to my gracious Soueraigne and her Realme: how not I alone, but I cheefely as one, gaue foorth such vnreprooueable notice of ensu­ing harmes, as bewrayed their secret trayterous intent, and also notably conuicted the aduersary. For which seruice, beyond my desert, I haue found the plentifull measure, of my Princesse fauoure and goodnes, as also the noble goodwill of her Ho­nourable Counsell, of which high calling, as God and her Maiesty hath created you one: so am I in dutie to pray for your continuall welfare, whose Honourable freendship hath exceeded my poore demerit. But when I thinke on the vndeserued [Page] ingratitude, wherewith mine owne Countreymen vnkindely rewarde me; I am forced to say, as one some­time sayd, A man is no where wurse e­steemed, then in his owne Countrey. If I had come as their aduersaryes did, for the subuersion of their peace­able estate, and bloody ouerthrowe: then might I well haue contented my selfe, to be condemned with re­proche, and thrust foorth into infa­my. But comming as I did, to open the gap of trouble secretly ment vn­to them; I finde not so much as I haue deserued, but yet a great deale more then I am able to suffer. Euery man will deskant on matters after his owne imagination, cōmend & con­demn as pleaseth his humor, but that which is more, diuers prating Boyes (wherof I cā name some) wil take vp­on thē to defēd their cause, who haue beene found such hainous offenders; [Page] if some of them were publiquely chastened, it would charme the tongues of a number more, who be­cause they perceiue them to be suf­fered; ioyne with them in euill spee­ches together for company.

My desire is therefore to your Ho­nor, that some good order may be appointed for such lewde and talka­tiue companions, and that they who are innocent of such wicked crimes, whereby (by them) they are malici­ously slaundered, may not be dealt withall after this manner; for the enemy dooth very well perceiue it, and smileth to see vs so shamefullie handled, besyde, the lyes and fables by such idle fellowes imagined, ma­keth them more bolde in theyr Li­belles, to exclaime and defame euen as pleaseth them.

To approoue my woordes true, two seditious and Traiterous Pam­phlets [Page] haue lately beene printed and dispersed abroad, the one in French, the other in English; contayning such horrible and detestable slaun­ders, bothe against Honorable, wor­shipfull, learned and godly persons, as themselues, who are the Authors thereof, if they were not altogether giuen ouer as reprobate, might be a­shamed to publish abroade. And yet will they say, they vse such mode­stie, pietie and grauitie in all their actions, as no men are able to doo the like; how voyde they are of such vertuous gifts, I will not reason my selfe, but appeale to your Honor, and a number godlie and learned men, who I knowe haue seene their vnchristian like behauiour, not one­ly in their dayly deedes and gesture, but also in their mallicious and slaunderous Libelles. These two a­forenamed Bookes (right Honoura­ble) [Page] comming to my handes, and the famous vntruethes therein with ad­uise considered; I prepared my selfe to write this breefe Aunswer, which, in dutie and humilitie, I commend to your Honourable view. How it shall please you to like thereof, I am not to enter into oppinion: neuer­thelesse, I haue good hope, that ac­cording as I meant it, your Honour will accept it, which was and is, to displease none, but to pleasure and profit all men if I might, especially your Honor, to whom I wish more then heere I can vnfold, bothe of earthly honor, and heauenly happines.

Your Honours during life. Antony Munday.

¶To the Courteous and freendly Reader.

I Commend to thy freendly iudge­ment (gentle reader) this lyttle Booke, made in answere of two seditious and Traiterous Pamphlets, the one printed in French, and the other in English: wherein, if in their writings thou findest any thing, that may seeme offensiue to thy ciuill and well ordered nature, let this be thy perswasion, such as the Tree is, such is the fruit, and such as the matter is, such are those kind of mē. Thou hast already read in my former booke, a breefe setting downe of their wicked & vnnatu­ral tresons: but shortly thou shalt haue such matter come foorth, [Page] as shall paint them foorth in their right coullours, yet not all that I knowe, for my dutie wyll not suf­fer me to shewe it, nor thy mo­destie endure to reade it. And by way of curtesie let me desyre of thee, that although at sundrye times thou shalt heare such lewde speeches of me, as I were not woorthy life, if I were so euill as to deserue them: yet that thou wilt not enter into iudgement against me, before thou be resol­ued what I am, as also what they are that mooue the slaun­ders, for I know that I am o­therwise reported of, then I haue deserued, or they can prooue. For it is the whole felicitye of the ad­uersarye, seeing hee can no way preuayle in his mischeeuous in­tents: to rayse vp slaunders and infamous speeches, that way to [Page] discredit those, whom other wayes they are not able to iniu­rie. Beholde their dealings, and be warned by them, feare God, honour thy Princesse, looue those that wish thy welfare, and in all causes commend thy selfe to the heauenly protection.

Thine to commaund, Antony Munday.

¶ An Aunswer made vnto two seditious Pam­phlets, the one printed in French, the other in English, containing a defence of Edmund Campion, and his Complices.

NOt long after I had published my Booke, called The Discouerie of Campion, there came vnto my hands a sedi­tious Pamphlet, prin­ted in the French tongue, intituled. The Historie of the death, which the reuerend Father M. Edmund Campion, Preest, of the Societie of the name of Iesus, Not for their religi­on, but for high trea­son. and others haue suffered in England, for the Catholique & Roo­mish religion or faith, the 1. of Decem­ber. 1581. adding vnderneathe, Tran­slated out of English into French. When I had thorowly perused this Booke, nothing the traiterous effects, and slaunderous speeches therein contayned, receiuing the iudgement likewise of diuers learned and godly [Page] men: aswell to correct the manifest vntruethes, wherewith this Pam­phlet is notably stuffed, as also that the godly and vertuous may discerne theyr apparant impudencie and wic­ked nature, I resolued my selfe, to shape a bréefe aunswer to such a shamelesse Libel, my self béeing ther­in vntruely and malliciously abused.

First our namelesse Historiogra­pher, because hee would ayme his course after some od manner of con­ueyaunce: taketh occasion to begin his Booke with the taking of Campi­on, The man­ner of the af [...]resayde tray [...]erous Booke. his bringing to the Tower, what happened in his time of staye there, and lastly his martirdome (as he ter­meth it) with two other holy and de­uoute Préestes, and in this manner continuing his vnaduised laboure, he beginneth as héereafter followeth.

GEorge Eliot, sometime seruaunt to Maister Thomas Roper, and sithēce belonging to a Gentlewoman, the Widdow of Sir VVilliam Peters, in whose seruice he made showe to be a sound and good Catholique: not long [Page] since committed a murder, To buylde vpon heare say, prooueth but a slen­der foun­dation. as men say, for which offence, fearing the daun­ger that was like to ensue, he went and submitted him selfe to one of the cheefe Lordes in the Court, and the better to win his fauoure on his owne behalfe, promised to deliuer into his handes the Father Edmund Campion. This promise (sayth he) was receiued, and vnto the sayde George, and an Officer was deliuered commission, to take and apprehend the said Edmund Campion. Then went they on their way, and comming into Barkeshire, to house of one Maister Yates: George Eliot met with the Cooke of the house, with whom he was very well acquainted, because they had before bothe serued one Maister. His Mai­ster was then in the Iayle at Reading, iudge then howe Campion could be within with his M [...]ster. The Cooke thinking no ill, began to tell him ma­ny thinges, and that Father Campion was in the house with his Maister: vp­on which reporte, George sent his fel­low to the Iustice, who was a very great Caluinist, and hee in meane while was brought into the house by the sayd Cooke, where, like an o­ther Iudas, Traitour and disloyall, [Page] he first attended the Sacrifice of the Masse, which was celebrated that day by the Father Edmund, as also a Ser­mon which he made: in which time, behold a goodman came running, willing them to take heede of a pre­sent treason. Scantly was all carryed away, that had serued for the Masse and the Sermon, but the Iustice was there arriued with very great force, besetting the house round about, that none should escape away. After very dilligent search through all the Chā ­bers, and other more secret places; they were determined to returne, as not finding any thing, vntill they were aduertised, either by George, who had vnderstood it of the Cooke, or by some other, of a certain corner, more darke and subtill, where they found the Father Edmund, and two other Preests hidden: who the same day, with Gentlemen and other per­sons, were sent vp to London, a spec­tacle of great ioye vnto their aduer­saries.

By that which fol­loweth, written by George Eliot him selfe: consider of the trueth of this report.Thus much of our Frenche Histo­rians woords, I thought good in this [Page] place to set downe: because the dis­proofe thereto annexed, may discouer what trueth all they of his sect fre­quent in any of their actions. This aforenamed George Eliot came home vnto my lodging, where I shewed him the slaunders that were vsed of him in the French Booke: whereupon taking good aduise, and noting the circumstances that so highly touched him, vpon his consci­ence he deliuereth this vnreproouea­ble aunswer.

George Eliot his aunswer, to cleere himselfe of the former vntrue obections.

ABout three yeeres since, it was my fortune to serue Maister Thomas Roper of Kent: with whom I had not stayed past eleuen wéekes, but Payne the Préest (of whom men­tion is made in the Discouerie of Campion, set foorth by the Author of this Booke,) entised me from thence to serue my Lady Peters, to whom [Page] the sayd Paine serued craftily as Steward of her house. With her I continued almoste two yeares, in which time (béeing my selfe bent somewhat to that religion) frequen­ting the company of a number of Pa­pists:Who fre­quenteth their com­pany, shall finde all their dea­lings dis­loyall and trayterous. I perceiued their dealings, to be as they are indéede, full of wicked treasons, and vnnaturall dispositi­ons, too bad to be named. The conceyt whereof, examining first my dutie to God, ne [...]t my looue to my Princesse, and last the care of my Countrey▪ by the grace and permission of God, of­fered me so great disliking of their dealings, that so warily and conueni­ently as I might, I weaned my af­fection from their abhominable in­fection, neuerthelesse vsing their com­panyes still, for that it gaue me the better occasion, to sée into the depth of their horrible inuentions. From my Lady Peters in Nouēber was twelue moneth, by intreatie I came to Mai­ster Ropers againe, with whom I continued till Whitsontide last: whē my conscience hardly digesting such a waightie burden, as with their deui­ses [Page] and practises it was very sore lo­den, I was constrayned to giue ouer that slauish kinde of life, and humbly committed my reconciliation to the right Honorable and my good Lord, the Earle of Leicester, to whom I made knowne the gréeuous estate of my life, which for the space of foure yéeres I had endured amongst them. Now whereas it hath pleased my ad­uersarie to set downe, that I commit­ted a murder, & to auoyde the daun­ger of Lawe, offered (to the aforesaid my good Lord) to deliuer vnto him Edmund Campion, thereby to obtaine my pardon: How vntrue this is, his honour very well knoweth, and so do a number more besyde, for in trueth, I neyther as then knew Campion, It is very vnlike, that he which neuer sawe Campion in all his life, nor knew where he was, could make any promise to bring him foorth. had neuer séen him in all my life, nor knew wher or in what place he was: it is very vnlike then I should make any such promise. But that he may learne an other time, to order his matters with more trueth & discreti­on: I wil set down bothe how I wēt, with what commission, and to what intent, & then let him haue iudgemēt [Page] according to the credit of his woorke.

When I had reuealed the traite­rous spéeches of Payne the Préeste, how and after what māner, you may reade in the Booke before expressed: I was demaunded if I knew where hee was at that time. I could not make any certayne answere, where­fore I was demaunded againe, if I would doo my endeuoure to search him out, whereto, according to my bounden dutie, I agréede right wil­linglie. Then was I appointed in company with Dauid Ienkins, one of the Messengers of her Maiesties Chamber:I sawe the warrant my selfe, and neither was Campion, Payne, or any one named ther­in, but all Preestes, Iesuits and such sediti­ous persons and to vs was deliuered a warrant, to take and apprehend, not any one man, but all Préestes, Iesu­ites, and such like seditious persons, as in our iourney we should méete with all, neither was Campion, Paine, or any one man named in the warrant: for that as the one was iudged harde to be found, so was it vncertaine where to finde him I knew well enough. Wherefore re­membring when I serued Maister Roper, that there was one Thomas [Page] Cooper a Cooke, who serued him like­wise, and also knew the aforesayde Paine: to him I thought good to go, because I had vnderstanding that he dwelt at Liuarde in Barkeshire with one Maister Yates, who was a very earnest Papist, and gaue great enter­tainement to all of that sect: thinking as it might so fall out, that we eyther might finde the sayd Paine there, or els vnderstand where he was. And considering the generalitie of our warrant, some other Préestes might chaunce to be there, in respect he was such an Hoste for all of that dispositi­on. When we came to Liuard, and had talked with this aforesayd Tho­mas Cooper, we were framing our selues to depart thence, not hauing béene within the house at all: but he desiring vs to staye Dinner, we a­lighted and went in with him, he not telling me that Campion was there with his Maister, for he was then in the Iayle at Reading, or any other Preeste, though it hath pleased our namelesse Author to write so. When we were within the house, this Coo­per [Page] brought vs into the Buttery, where he whispering me in the eare, demaunded if my fellow were with­in the Church or no,A holy kinde of Church, whereof the Deuill is Uicar. as much to say, as whether he was a Papist or no? I aunswered he was not, yet neuerthe­lesse (quoth I) he is a very honest mā, and one that wisheth well that way. Then sayde the Cooke, will you goe vp. Héereby I vnderstood that he would bring me to a Masse, whereto I consenting, leauing Dauid Ienkins, in the Butterie, he brought me vp, where after one Satwell alias Foord had sayde Masse, Campion prepared himselfe to say Masse. And there was the first time that euer I saw Cam­pion in all my life, not hauing heard by any that he was ther in the house, before I was brought vp into the Chamber. As concerning how he was taken, how he was brought vp to London, and how all thinges pas­sed in that seruice: I haue already set downe in my booke imprinted, which conferring with his false reporte, you shall finde it as much to differ, as trueth dooth from falshood.

[Page]This haue I thought good héere to set downe, in the reproofe of him who hath published such a manifest vn­trueth: and as concerning what I haue reported to be spoken by Payne, I am ready at all times to iustifye it with my death, that they are his woordes according as he spake them.

By me George Eliot.

THus may you sée how apparant these vntruethes are, which he and his sect take for their infallible ground woorke: comparing the one with the other, you shall hardly finde him to say trueth in any place,The father of lyes hath made his Children so prompt in his Art, that they cannot chuse but make knowledge there­of. but e­uen according to his owne profession, béeing gouerned by lyes and vniust actions, wherein he is growne so prompte and headstrong, that he must néedes shewe it accordingly, els he should estraunge himselfe from the ordinary course of their nature: but now againe to our Historie.

He sayth, that after Campion was brought to the Tower, he was hardly entertayned bothe for lodging and victualles: [Page] I néede not héere to laye open how, and after what manner all prisoners that come there are entertayned: for euery one well dooth know, how bountifully, liberally and truely they are serued, béeing the Quéenes Ma­iesties Prisoners, which many a poore man would be highly contented to fare in the order as they doo. But in déede hee kéepeth order very well, to make as many lyes as lynes, his Booke will be the better estéemed of them that delight therein. Now as concerning the time of his imprison­ment, his Disputations and other matters, Whereat (he sayth) he than­keth God he was present himselfe: such a one hath taken those matters in hand, that when they come foorthe, you shall sée our Historian, made the perfect Anotamye, of all vntrueth, mallice and egregious slaunders. Af­ter what manner hee hath behaued himself to Maister Nowell the Deane of Paules, Maister Doctor Day, and Maister Whitakers: Who (sayth he) hath put foorth a Booke, in answere to the Booke made by the Father [Page] Campion, but any man may see (saith he) with what ignorance and impu­dencie. Indéede ignoraunce hath so peruersely blinded them, that either they cannot or will not sée, the lear­ning, modestie and grauitie, handled in that skilfull Booke, for trueth whereof, I appeale to all the learned Diuines in England, who very well know that I reporte no otherwise then trueth is my warrant. After he hath showen some part of his accu­stomed vntruethes, in opening part of the Disputations: he commeth to reporte, whereof they were endicted, As cōspiring the death of the Queens Maiestie, ouerthrowe of the Realme of England, prouoking forraine Princes to ioine therein, and perswa­ding the people of Englande vnto manifest Rebellion: These hor­rible trea­sons, which were mani­festly proo­ued to their faces: are but fables and lyes, sayth he. all these beeing fables and no trueth, saith he, not able to be prooued any way, albeit they were garnished with sundrye false witnesses, who were corrupted and bribed onely for that purpose. I take God to my witnesse, that neither I receyued bribe, nor any manner of [Page] corrupting in the worlde, or any pre­mise of my preferment any way: but onely what I sayd and did, long be­fore that time, when I was brought to my examination, without demaūd of any such matter, promise, bribe or corruption, I declared that which was nothing but the méere trueth, as diuers at my first comming ouer can witnesse: that what I tolde them, of treasons pretended and conspired a­gainst her Maiestie and the Realme, I reported at the Araignement, and haue set downe in my Booke the very same, which, as I knowe to be true, and many other not to be publiquely named: so will I stande in mainte­naunce thereof to the death, and in the death, for the sauegarde of my Princesse, whom I pray God long to continue in honor,All good Subiectes will say as much as I doo: but as for such as will not, God cut them off, or turne their harts. and benefit of my Country, which I pray God to blesse continually, from all attempts of Traytours, from all motions of mis­chaunce that may any way annoy it: and that as God hath blessed it hither to, with the glorious beames of his [Page] sacred Gospell, through her who is the mother and maynetainer of our ioy by the same: euen so, that he wyll long lend vs her to increase it, long blesse the Realme to enioy it, and vs all faithfully to looue it, and her Ma­iestie. And whereas he sayth, they were all fables and no trueth, not able to bee prooued any way: notable te­stimony remaineth, how theyr trea­sons were manifestly prooued, bothe by their owne confessions and wri­tings, vncorrupted witnesses, and e­uident proofe of euery thing that was obiected against them, and not that they were condemned for their reli­gion, as this false reporter saythe: but for high Treason, intended, prac­tised and conspired against her Ma­iestie and the Realme, the summe whereof is so odious, that any good minde loatheth to heare it.

Agayne he sayth, That when the witnesses where produced and sworne, to witte, Munday, Cradocke, Sled and Hill, all of very base conditi­on, who were so well seene in lyes, [Page] that they seemed to be borne and nourished therein: Heere he describeth him selfe, and all chose of his sect and condi­tyon. they had the foule ouerthwart, albeit with shamelesnes and vehemencie, they mainetayned theyr accusation, against these good and innocent men. As for our base­nes or simplenes, we will not stande to contend with him: though wee knowe we haue all one father, and that we are all made of one mettall. Againe we know, God hath chosen the despised of the world, 1. Cor. 1. to confoūd them that thinke themselues moste mighty. But where he saith, We were so well seene in lyes, that we seemed to be borne and nourished therein. I can leuell at his meaning: How that bothe he and they, beléeuing in lyes, obeying the Author of lyes, and dayly fed and nourished with lyes, hate nothing so much as the trueth, so that when they are truely and faith­fully reprooued, of their owne wicked and naughtie dealings: then they storme and keepe a coyle, exclayme, defame, and vse vnreuerent spéeches, so that what toucheth them with moste trueth, is starke false, and no­thing [Page] but lyes.If he had applyed this vnto themselues, he had spoken but trueth, for they had the fowle o­uerthwart e­uerie way. If this be not his meaning. I take it so, and can prooue it so, for that bothe impudentlie and shameleslie, they denied all manifest truethes, brought and prooued against them, and neither had we a fowle o­uerthwart, or any motion of a dis­proofe: but in déede Maister Campion oftentimes would offer to trippe me in my tale, and would question with the other subtillie, according to his v­suall wunt, and if this was a fowle ouerthwart, when no reason was made or showen of any such occasion: let the learned iudge, who can dis­cerne trueth from falsehood, and tray­tours from true and loyall Subiects, but we must suffer him to kéepe his ordinarie course of vntrueth, least perhaps he shoulde chaunce to forget it.

Then he setteth downe ye Euidēces giuen, which you may sée in my other Booke, with more trueth then he v­seth the matter: reporting that which Sled neuer spake nor thought, wher­fore we let it passe among the num­ber of vntruethes. And then vnreue­rentlie [Page] he cōmeth to Maister Seriant Anderson, It is their cheefest glo­rie, to reuile and slaūder: but therein they aptly shewe themselues. and Maister Popham, the Quéenes Maiesties Attorneye gene­rall: wherein our Historian aptlie discouereth him selfe, but as Enuie braggeth and draweth no blood, so he thinking to iniure others, sheateth his venemous blade in his own brest. And all this whyle (sayth he) the good religious Campion, shewed him selfe so prudent, and aunswered with such pietie and modestie: that he not onely astonied the people there present, but also brought the Iudges into admira­tion of him, he was so present to him selfe, and defended with so great equi­tie, bothe his owne and his compani­ons cause, that it was esteemed they should be declared guiltlesse. The true construction of the former woordes, vt­tred so high­lie on the behalfe of Campion. In deede I wyll not denie, but this good irreli­gious Campion, handled euerie cause with a smoothe and cullorable coun­tenaunce, béeing verie present and quick to him selfe, in Sophistical con­ueyances, and farre fet déepe pointes of Logique: and indéede he did it with such a modest showe, as Iudas, when with a kisse he betrayed his Maister. [Page] And I am perswaded, that the people there present were astonied, to heare and perceyue that so modest a counte­naunce, coulde harbour such a false and trayterous heart, to God, his Princesse and Countrey: yea, the Iudges dyd admire, that a man as he was, professing learning and looue in outwarde appearaunce, shoulde be so ouercome by the Deuil, as to séeke the spoyle and ruine of his Princesse and Countrey. Good cause had the people to be astonied, that so wicked members as they, should be found a­mong them, who were true and faith full Subiectes, and more cause had the Iudges of admiration, to sée their owne Countreymen, in a matter so horrible to appeare before them: little dyd any there thinke to heare them declared guiltlesse, their treasons so apparant, and the proofe so euident, but rather thought no torment suffi­cient, to reward them who were so haynous offendours, and therefore woorthilie, and according to desart, they were giuen vp guiltie.

And whereas he sayth: It was since [Page] reproched to one of the twelue, A notable vntrueth, made on our secrete Au­thors fyn­gers endes. for the yll aduise vsed in searching their cause, and that he should make aun­swer: he could doo no otherwise, least he should not be thought a freend to Caesar: We adde this to the troth­lesse number lykewise, the men bée­ing all knowne to be no one of them such, as woulde make any such aun­swere, but as they sayd then, they thāked God that they had liued to doo their Princesse such seruice, as to cut off such rotten braunches, from such a quiet common wealth: so they saye styll, and wyll continue therein, let the aduersarie report what he can.

And héere he bringeth in: That the next day Collington was found not to be at Rheimes in the specified time, This is so well known to be false, that it scant deserueth a­ny aunswere at all. for that Maister Lankaster of Grayes Inne, witnessed him then to be there with him: by which meanes (sayth he) he delyuered this innocent man from death, whereto he was already con­dempned. Howe false this is, it is sufficientlie knowne, for so soone as the question was mooued, Maister Lankaster béeing by, made aunswer: [Page] and neither was Collington condem­ned, nor any of them there that was as then condemned, for that all the matters were not heard, neither had the Iewrie determined vppon any thing: wherefore you maye sée howe he kéepeth his hande in vre, with his accustomed vntruethes.

Vppon this (sayth he) one William Nicholson Preest standing by, A manifest vntrueth, as the reproofe thereof suc­ceeding doth euidentlye declare. and kno­wing well that Foorde, one of the pri­soners, was as wrongfullie accused as this other: earnestly moued with a cō ­sciēce of veritie, would as wel defend the innocencie of Foorde, as the other before had done of Collington: but it would not fadge with him, for he was takē & sent to prison. Now shal you perceiue what trueth can be gathered of this place, which if he were not so confounded in shame, he would haue showen some signe of more discretiō, rather then to set it so falsely downe after this manner. When as Alex­ander Brian, was manifestly founde, to be present at the trayterous Ser­mon which Iohn Hart made at Rhei­mes, as an especiall encouragement [Page] to them all there sitting in audience, to great disobediēce and hate of their Princesse and Countrey: the sayd A­lexander offered denial therof, which notwithstanding, Charles Sled defen­ded truly to his face. Whervpon this William Nicholson standing by amōg the people,VVilliam Nicholson, his presumptiō to defend a Craitours cause at the barre, wher­by he brou­ght him selfe into ye same p [...]edicament. would take vppon him to affirme, that Brian was not at ye sayd Sermon, graunting him selfe to be present there then: béeing euidentlie disprooued of his bolde attempt, the treason of Brian appearing so mani­fest, he was committed to prison, ac­cording as rightly he had deserued. He neither offered woorde on the be­halfe of Foord, either to defend his in­nocency, or appeach his guiltines: but euen as I haue set you downe, so it was, and no otherwise. As for the de­termination of the Pope, to replenish his Seminaries with such aboūdance of Schollers as he can cōueniently at­taine vnto. It is largely hādled in my other Booke, to his shame & all such, as follow his humour in so traiterous perswasions. Neuerthelesse, this So­phister would smooth the matter after [Page] an other manner,I would the Pope would keepe his meere looue to him selfe: for we might very well be without it. as that: The Pope dooth it for meere looue and pittie to our Countrey, to encrease such as shal profite in his seruice, and to ayde the Church (sayeth he) which is so afflic­ted. I would wishe him to kéepe that looue and pittie to him selfe, for any good Subiect loatheth to heare a moti­on, which maye offer disobedience to their Prince and Countrey, and ther­fore loatheth him who offereth them such vnchristianlike seruice.

And héere I must not forget, to an­swer his deepe iudgement as concer­ning Alexander Brian, and the Crosse made of a peece of a Trencher, which he had in his hande at the Arraigne­ment, which this fellowe sayth:A meete Auncient bearer, for such an I­dolatrous and supersti­tious thing. To be a great Crosse, and that Maister Bri­an as Auncient bearer, bare it there in the behalfe of them all, vntyll (sayth he) he was corrected for it, and be­cause he woulde not laye it away, a naughtie man by force tooke it from him, to whome Brian sayde. Thou hast taken from me my Image, neuer­thelesse, I wyll fight vnder the Stan­darde thereof to the death.

[Page]Oh most impudent and shamelesse woordes, it is so well knowne to be be vntrue that is héere rehearsed, as I néede not to waste tyme in so vaine a matter. For when he was reproo­ued for his shauen crowne, and that stubbornlie and obstinatlie hee made aunswer: He had good hope to doo it againe. The Crosse was taken from him, with so swéete a rebuke for such an idolatrous spectacle, as if he had had any grace in him, woulde haue constrayned him to be hartilie sorie for his follie.

Of him that accustometh him selfe in lyes: it is verie harde to heare any trueth.And neither spake he the woordes héere falselie imputed to him, or any matter to that intent: onelie these woordes which haue béene rehearsed, he spake verie scornefullie, and with­out any showe of wisedome or mode­stie. And because I wyll not be ouer tedious to the fréendlie Readers, the vntruethes by him auouched at their execution: I wyll bréestlie touche in rehearsall of the other Booke, which is imprinted in Englishe, as concer­ning the same matter, shortlie knit­ting vp this slaunderous Libell, to be [Page] as you maye perceyue by the confu­tation thereof, the wryter thereof to be shamelesse in his shame, one of the right broode as they all are of, and his Booke equall with him in any euyll condition: so that as the Trée is, such is his fruite, and as the wrighter is, suche are his woorkes.

In the ende, hée knitteth vp his Booke, with a breefe reporte, intitu­led: The martirdome of Euerard Haunce, an English Preest, in An. 1581. And nowe you shall heare what most impiously he alledgeth on his behalf, which is as followeth.

Euerard Haunce, beeing a Mini­ster of the Heretiques, and a bene­factour in England, beeing in a verie greenous agony of sicknesse, as it were, neere to the death: fell in a sound, wherein he remained so long, that his freendes altogeather reputed him for dead. A verie straunge vi­sion: Too straunge to be true. During the tyme he was in this traunce, he seemed in a vision to see the infernall pit of hell, and the Soules which were there tor­mented bothe night and daye, with [Page] intollerable and greeuous paines, yea, the Soules of his freendes and most fa­milliars, which he verie well knewe in their lyfe time. But that which is most straunge, Note this. he sawe there the pla­ces, assygned for some other of his freendes, who were as then lyuing in the world, and in sound and good e­state of their health. After this vision, beeing come againe to him selfe, he called for a Catholique Preest, who beeing come vnto him, how be it, his Kinsfolkes were against it greatly, as well for his Religiō, as for loosing his benefice, which was woorth much: with great sorrowe & repentaunce of his former lyfe, he made his confessiō to the Preest, & wholy renounced his benefice, embracing the Catholique faith. It so chaunced that he forsooke his Coūtrey, admonishing those verie earnestly, whose places he had seene prepared for them in hell, to amende their liues: which they refusing to do, dyed within short space after, This is as true as all the rest is. and wēt to hell to their places. Then went he to Rheimes in Champaigne, for to study Diuinitie, where hauing stayed about [Page] two yeares, Learning enough in so small a time to be a Preest. and made Preest: he felt a great zeale in him selfe, to returne in­to his Countrey, where not long since he was taken & condemned to death: and beeing executed, he was ript vp and quartered, A notable lye. and as his heart was throwen into the fire, it leaped foorth againe, three seuerall tymes.

This is one of our Historians faith­full reportes, carrying as great cre­dite as all the other doo:In my English Ro­maine lyfe. you shall reade many of theyr wunderfull miracles. these are the myracles of theyr Church, whereof in my Englishe Romaine lyfe, I wyll rehearse diuers of like aucthority and allowaunce, which albeit they wyll vrge many to woonder and meruaile, yet shall they be set downe in no o­ther order, then as them selues haue reported them, and my self haue séen. As for Euerard Haunce, what he was, how he lyued, and how he dyed, is al­ready so largelie set downe in print, that it were but double labour to rip it vp againe. Traytour he was to her Maiestie and the Realme, and so lyke a Traytour he ended his lyfe, as all the rest of them shall I hope, [Page] except God turne their heartes, as I praye hartily he maye, that they maye sée their horrible abuses, and be hartilie for their haynous offences.

¶ An Aunswer vnto an other seditious Pamphlet printed in Englishe, and named: A true report of the death and Martirdome of Maister Cam­pion, Iesuite and Preest, Maister Sherwin, and Master Brian Preests, at Tiborne the .1. of Decemb. 1581. Obserued and written by a Ca­tholique Preest, who was present thereat.

TO rippe vp all the cir­cumstances contayned in this Booke: as the whole course thereof, is Trayterous, false, and no trueth at all in it, so would it séeme yrksome to any modest eare, to abyde the rehearsall of such vnreue­rent matter. Yet neuerthelesse, I wyl bréeflie touche some pointes thereof, whereby may be coniectured what all [Page] the restis, a fardell of follie, aptlie fi­guring bothe him that writ it, they who are defended in it, and them all that are of that sect and opinion. First he findeth him selfe agreeued: That Maister Campion should be reported at the tyme of his death, Bothe the right hono­rable and woorshipful, with ye great number of people that were there present, can witnesse the fearfulnesse and timeri­ousnesse of Campion. tymerous & fearefull, as also that Sherwin is sayde to shewe more humilitie and discre­tion, and therefore (sayeth he) dyed a Protestant. I will appeale to the right Honorable & Woorshipfull that were there present, and also to Maister Hearne & the other godly Preachers: who in offering him comfortable doc­trine, to strengthen him and establish his faith, according as they heartilie desired: perceiued him to be very fear­full, wauering, & as it seemed, would haue opened something, but that this affliction of his minde would not suf­fer him. This is he, who was repu­ted: For the flower of Oxensoorde, Our repor­ter maketh Campion a wunder to the world, in rehearsing those giftes which were neuer in him. whyle he studied there, and since a­broade in other forraine Countreyes, by whome our Countrey hath gotten great honour, the fruites of his lear­ning, vertue & rare gifts, were in him [Page] so admirable and wunderfull: bothe heere at home, and abroade in Italie, Germanie, and Bohemia, an honour to our Countrey, a Glasse and mirrour, a lyght and lanterne, a patterne and example to youth, age, learned, vn­learned, religious, and the laytie, of all sortes, state and condition, for mode­stie, grauitie, eloquence, knowledge, vertue and pietie. Is it not meruay­lous to heare the impudencie of this shamelesse Reporter, howe according to our French Historian, he maketh him selfe the Image of all vntrueth? You shall heare Campion his owne confession, to those of woorship in this Cittie, during the tyme he was in the Tower: and then let this large style blazed of him, be receyued into iudge­ment accordinglie.

He confesseth that he neuer passed farder in Diuinitie then Canisius dic­tates, Campions owne woor­des, to those of woorship, whyle hee was in the Tower. whose writing is verie well known to our learned Diuines héere in England: according as he writ, he followed in study, so that if he writ false, then he followed false, if he sayde true, then he was in the truth, which [Page] of these he could not make aunswere which was most certaine. This was déepe learning and high knowledge, for him to make so prowde a Chal­lenge as he dyd, and for this Repor­ter to write so arrogantly as he dooth, inferring such modestie, grauitie, elo­quence, knowledge, and vertue, on him who was nothing acquainted with such singuler giftes.

Besides this, Campion lykewise confessed him selfe,Campions estate beeing beyond the Seas, whi­che if euerie one consider with iudge­ment, they shall well perceyue his glorious re­portes to be but fables. that when he was at Praga beyonde the Seas, he had lyttle or no helpes at all to imploye his studie, which is some reason that he could not be so profounde, so pre­sent, and so well lettered, as this gal­lant gloser fayneth him to be. For at verie sildome tymes he had any Bookes to guide him, and into such necessitie he was driuen, teaching there two Gentlemens sonnes in the Latin tongue, as when he had paper, he had neither pennes nor inke, and when he had inke, eyther he wanted pennes or paper, so that euer he was without some néedefull thing, that should haue holpen him euerie way.

[Page]All these thinges considered, maye mooue the simplest body to vnderstād, he coulde not be such a fellowe as he was takē for of some. This béeing vn­derstoode & well perceyued by many, bothe woorshipfull, learned and wise, who had conference with him: caused them to estéeme of him according, and to make reporte of his learning, as they found it.This Re­porter, be­haueth him selfe vnreue­rently to my Lord bishop of London, mislyking his iudge­ment on Campions learning, and Master Whitakers Booke. Which hath made this Reporter vnreuerently and without modestie to reprooue my Lord Bishop of London, who sayde of Campions learning as before is expressed: which this fellowe ridiculouslie applieth to follie, neither giuing him his calling of Honour, nor shewing him the re­uerence he ought to doo, but according to the nature of them all, plainlie she­weth his venemous heart. And there lykewise he scorneth at Maister Whitakers Booke, mislyking my Lords iudgement thereof: promising an aunswer thereto, as also to publish the disputations in the Tower, to the honour of Campion. I wyll not gainesay, but they may as wel shuffle foorth a shamelesse reporte on theyr [Page] owne parte, concerning the sayde dis­putations, as they haue this trayte­rous Libell, but when it commeth, I trust it shall not passe without the iudgement of those, who wil aunswer them to any thing. I will omit (sayth our Reporter) though it be much ma­teriall, A notable lye on the behalfe of Campion. Campion his vsage in his tyme of imprisonment, his constancie and patience, his fiue dayes fast from tem­porall and bodilie sustenaunce, his two nightes abstinence from ordina­rie sleepe and rest, and the time he be­stowed in meditation & prayer. This to be false and vntrue, they that can tel haue auouched it, wishing all men to estéeme it as an horrible and dete­stable vntrueth. Comparing the mā ­ner of the executiō, the English with the French: I finde them so different the one from the other, and bothe of them so far from trueth, as I accoūpt it a waste labour, to bestowe time in setting thē downe. For bothe of them make these Traitors, To be so milde, patient & vertuous, as though neuer their like was seen: wherfore the bréefe and true manner therof, which I my [Page] self haue published in my former book, shall aunswer all the errors made by them. As for the course of rayling he taketh, against those of woorship, lear­ning and iudgement: I will aunswer with the Euangelist. Blessed are you, when men shal curse you, Math. 5. speake all e­uill against you, and make lyes of you for my sake: be you glad and reioyce, because your reward is the greater in the kingdome of heauen, for so haue they dealt with the Prophetes, that were before you. Now where he saith: What charity was it to put pinnes vnder the nailes of Alexander Brian, An other manifest vn­trueth, ap­plied on the behalfe of Alexander Brian. and for his corporall sustenaunce, he was driuen to lycke the moysture of the walles. It is as all the rest are, a most deuillishe and malicious report, and that Sir Owen Hopton will affirme with many more, who sayeth it to be as false, as it is true that God lyueth in heauen.

But then let me aske him,The māner of the Pa­pists chari­tie, to Chri­stes mem­bers. what charity is it for them, so vnmercifully to torment the members of Christes body as they doo daylie, some tormen­ted three dayes, and three nightes [Page] together in the Strapado, some han­ged vp naked by the armes, and pric­ked to death with sharpe Canes, o­thers dismembred gréeuouslie, and a number persecuted with excéeding ti­ranny. A spectacle of their charitable dealinges,In my booke which shall shortly come foorth, you shall reade the cruelty late­ly vsed to an English mā at Roome, for the chri­stian faith. shall shortly come foorth in my other Booke, howe cruelly they tormented an Englishe man to the death at Roome, onelie for his faith and spotlesse Christianitie. Then you shall beholde their looue and charitie, which forced their owne Doctors in­to a troubled and vexed conscience: beholding the patience, triumphing and great ioy this faithful persecuted Martir made, bothe at his death, and continuing the whole tyme of theyr horrible tormentes.

He concludeth his Lybell, saying: God saue the Queene, thinking ther­by to shaddowe his villainous and trayterous heart: No, no, we knowe that all that say, Lord, Lord, shall not enter into the kingdome of heauen: no more are they all good Subiectes, that saye, God saue the Queene, but they doo this for a face, to couer the [Page] fowle blemish ensuing by their trea­son. God saue her Maiestie from all such as they are, her honourable Coū ­cell and the whole Realme, from that bloody Antichrist, and his wandering shauelinges.

An aunswere to his Caueat, concerning me, and my Discouerie.

AFterwarde, hée commeth with a Caueat to the Reader,I would they all bare as true har­tes to her Maiestie, as he dooth. concerning me and my Booke of the Discouerie of Campion: where he is verie lauish of spéeche of such a man, as he nor the prowdest of his secte dare auouch the woordes to his face, saying lykewise, that he perused my Booke, which on my Faith he neuer sawe tyll it came abroade. Then he beginneth to rip vp the course of my life, Howe I was an Apprentise, and serued my tyme well with deceyuing my Maister: I referre my selfe to the iudgement of all men, reading this which my Mai­ster vnrequested, hath héere set downe on my behalfe.

[Page]This is to let all men vnderstand, that Anthony Munday, for the tyme he was my Seruaunt, dyd his duetie in all respectes, as much as I could desire, without fraude, couin or deceyte: if otherwise I should report of him, I should but say vntrueth.

By me Iohn Allde.

AGaine he sayth: That wandering towardes Italie, I became a Coose­ner: For my discharge I will appeale to one of their owne secte nowe, he that went with me all the way, by name Thomas Nowel, who knoweth this to be a false and malicious slaun­der.

When I came to Roome, (he sayeth) I was charitablie releeued, but neuer admitted into the Seminarie: You shall heare the woordes of Lucas Ker­bie, Preest, one of the condempned prisoners in the Tower, taken be­fore Sir Owen Hopton, on Tuesday, beeing the .6. of March last. 1582.

[Page]AT what tyme we were excluded the Seminary, and sent for againe before the Pope, he demaunded of vs how many we were in nūber, which was presentlie giuen him to vnder­stande,I was not called by the name of Anthony Munday, but by an other name, which they set downe in their Table. in which number Thomas Nowell, and Anthony Munday, were named. He commaunded we should all be receyued into the Seminarie a­gaine, and gaue vs our desire in all thinges we requested, the Iesuites to be our Rectors, and to gouerne vs.

Then was a Table made, called: The Table of the names of all the Schollers in the Englishe Seminarie: Where euerie mans name was pla­ced by the Alphabet, and therein was the names of Thomas Nowell, and Anthony Munday, set downe lyke­wise, although he professed an other name then.

Nowe let men iudge, whether I was admitted or no, for before that time, neither my fellowe nor I might be receyued into the house, nor suf­fered to haue our Uiandes with the Schollers: but were in déede main­tayned [Page] by the Schollers, when they sawe me so wylling to returne from thence againe, which made them pro­mise vs, that they would labour both to the Pope and Cardinall for vs. This made vs the more wylling to take parte with them in their expul­sion from the Seminarie. Then were wee allowed among the number of the Schollers. At their receyuing in againe, our names were put in the Table for Schollers, obseruing all orders that the Schollers dyd, bothe in going to the Schooles, in walking for our recreation, & all other thinges we did as the Schollers did. The manner of their expulsion, the cause, and howe thinges happened, you shal reade at large in my Englishe Ro­maine lyfe.

In all the course of his Caueate, which he séemeth to publishe against my Booke of the Discouerie: he offe­reth no reproofe to any thing that I haue written therein, albeit he would haue Campion and his fellowes, to be thought such holie, wise, and dis­creet men: Me thinkes he shoulde [Page] first haue examined theyr horrible treasons, theyr trayterous practises from tyme to tyme, bothe against her Maiestie, her honourable Councell, and the Realme, and then haue sha­ped his defence according.

For in couering their faultes with­out any reason to the contrarie, and in making a man a Saint, not pur­ging him from the wickednesse plan­ted in him by the Deuill: he sheweth a rashe and partiall opinion, concea­ling their guiltinesse to him selfe, and séeking to make them famous by a fewe commixed tearmes, whose odi­ous offences, hath made them moste infamous.

Their venemous nature maye be séene in a Booke secretlie imprinted,A verie trayterous Booke, se­cretly im­printed, and made by a Catholique preest. made by a Catholique Préest not lōg since: where, in two seuerall places he calleth her Maiestie a Deuill, in an other place Macheuillian, and in an place plainlie Iezabell: these are good Subiectes, that can crie, God saue the Queene, with their mouthes, and wishe her death in their heartes, yea, they will sweare they are no such fel­lowes, [Page] when for more proofe of them selues, they set it downe in print: but such as theyr heade the Pope is,They that hādle pitch, will be defi­led there­with. such are they all, for they that once enter into oath to him, can hardlie after be good Subiectes to their Prince. Yet if they had any sparke of looue to their Princesse and Countreye, in them: they might take example by Maister Shelley the graund Priour in Roome among the Englishe men, who flatlie tolde the Pope to his face: That it neither stoode with his holynesse, nor honour, to will any Subiect to be a Traitour to his Prince and Countrey, for (quoth he) be shee neuer so euyll, wee must acknowledge her for our Princesse, and our selues for her Sub­iectes. For this, if he had not present­ly fled vpon it, he had béene murdred, or some way dispatched, so great was the mallice of his Countrey men to­wards him. Wel, I pray God to illu­minate them with his grace, that they maye see their wickednesse and blind­nesse, and though they haue strayed a long time lyke lost Shéepe, yet that they may at length come home againe [Page] to the shéepfolde, saying: We haue sinned, O Father, against heauen, and against thee, vnwoorthy we be to be called thy chyldren. God preserue her Maiestie, her honourable Councell, send his Gospel a ioyfull and frée pas­sage, turne the heartes of all Tray­tours, stop the mouthes of all backbiters and slaunderers, and make vs all his faith­full Seruauntes. Amen.

FINIS.

Verses in the Libell, made in prayse of the death of Maister Campion, one of the societie of the holie name of Iesus; heere chaunged to the re­proofe of him, and the other Traitours.

WHy doo I vse my paper, inke and pen,
and call my wits in coūcell what to say?
Such memories were made for woorthy men,
And not for such as séeke their Realms decay.
An Angels trumpe, exalts ye Subiects trueth:
When shame rings foorth ye Traitors fearful rueth.
Pardon my want, I offer naught but will,
To note downe those, at whome the Skies do skowle:
Cāpion, his treasōs do excéed my skil,
The cause, his comming, & the déede too fowle.
Yet giue me leaue in base and homely verse:
His lewd attempts in England to rehearse.
He came by vowe, the cause, his Princesse foyle,
His armour, Treason, to his Countryes woe:
His comfort, blood, slaughter & gréeuous spoyle,
The Deuill his Author had incenst him so.
His triumphe, Englands ruine and decay:
The Pope his Captaine, thirsting for it aye.
From ease to paine, from honour to disgrace,
From looue to hate, to daunger béeing well:
Thus dyd he fall, flying his natiue place,
and Countrey, where by duty he should dwell.
Our no Apostle comming to restore:
The bloody sway was sometime héere before.
His natures flowers, were mixt with hūny gall,
His lewd behauiour, enimie to skill:
A climing minde, reiecting wisedomes call,
A sugred tongue, to shrowde a vicious will.
A Saintlyke face, yet such a deuillish hart:
As sparde no trauaile for his coūtries smart.
With tongue and pen, the trueth he did suppres,
Stopping the way that Christians did desire:
Which pleased God for his great wickednes,
To stay his race, wherein he dyd aspire.
Then his behauiour witnessed the more:
What he was then, as also long before.
His fare was good, yet he a scornefull cheare,
His prison fayre, yet he a froward minde:
His councell good, yet deafned was his eare,
Perswasions large, he obstinate and blinde.
Oh stubborne mā, oh minde & nature straūge:
Whome wisdom, pittie, grace, nor looue could chaunge.
After great pause, they brought him to dispute,
With Bookes as many as he could demaund:
His chéefest cause, they quickly did confute,
His proofe layd downe, reprooued out of hand.
So that the simplest present there could say:
That Campions cause did beare the shame a­way.
After his foyles so often to his face,
It was thought good, Iustice his déedes should trie:
Upon appearaunce of so fowle a case,
Nature her selfe, wild doome deseruedlie.
Traitour he was, by prooues sufficient foūd:
The Iewrie sawe his Treasons so abound.
Her Maiestie to be depriu'd of lyfe,
A forraine power to enter in our Land:
Secrete rebellion must at home be rife,
Seducing Préests, receiu'd that charge in hād
All this was cloaked with Religious showe
But Iustice tried, and found it was not so.
Then rightfull doome bequeathed them to dye,
Whose treasons put her Maiestie in feare:
Out on the fiend, whose mallice wrought so slie
Hath wun a number, part with him to beare
But thinketh he, his enuie can preuaile?
No, little Dauid did the Giaunt quaile.
My gratious Princesse, sée your Subiects mone,
Such secret foes among them should be found:
Who serue your Grace in duety euery one,
though treasō séek to make their harts vnsoūd.
The bloody woolf prayes on ye harmles shéepe:
So treason séekes in loyall harts to créepe.
England looke vp, thy Children doo rebell,
Unreuerent actes haue entred in their minde:
The subiect séekes his rightfull Prince to quell,
Yea, to his natiue Countrey prooues vnkinde.
Campiō, who somtime yu didst swéetly sourse:
Prepares his venome to destroy his Nourse.
Eliot reioyce, that God prolonged thée,
To take the man, who meant vs all such yll:
As for thy slaunders, take them patiently,
Enuie drawes blood, and yet hée can not kyll.
Those who by words he séemde to put in feare:
Haue washt their hāds, in iudgement soūd and cleare.
My selfe as witnesse, Sled and all the rest,
who had their treasons noted in our Booke:
Account our selues of God most highly blest,
who gaue vs grace to such attempts to looke.
And hauing giuen our witnes sound & plaine:
We feare not mallice, nor his spightful train.
The well aduised Iewrie on this cause,
Who with discretion pondred euerie thing:
Behelde their treasons with such héedfull pause,
That they foūd out the depth of Enuies sting.
Whereby they saw, the stirrers of this strife:
Were farre vnwoorthy any longer life.
Yea, Elderton dooth deskant in his rime,
The high offences of such gracelesse men:
Which causeth him to yrke at euerie crime,
And gainst their treasons to prouide his pen.
Yet not without wisedome and modestie:
To warne all other that liue wickedlie.
Remember you that would oppresse the cause,
Our Church is Christes, his honour cānot die:
Though hell him selfe, reuest his griefly iawes,
And ioyne in league, with treason & poperie.
Though craft deuise, and cruel rage oppresse:
Christe will his chosen, styll in safetie blesse.
You thought perhaps, presūptious Cāpiō could,
disseuer those, whom Christ hath ioynd in one:
And that our gratious louing shéepheard would,
Before the woolfe, forsake his flock alone.
No, he preserues his Shéepe for greater good:
And drownes ye rauener in his enuious blood.
We knowe that Campion liuing did intreate,
The Subiect from his vowde humilitie:
Nowe therefore shame his dealings dooth repeate,
Throughout the world to his great infamie.
The skies thēselues, with lowring angry face:
Adiudge his déedes, woorthy of all disgrace.
All Europe woonders at this shamelesse man,
England is fild with rumor of his race:
London must néedes, for it was present than,
whē Iustice did thrée Traiterous minds deface.
The stréets, ye stones, ye steps they halde thē by:
Pronounst these Traitours woorthy for to die.
The Tower sayeth, he Treason did defend,
The Barre beares witnesse of his guilty minde:
Tiborne dooth tell, he made a Traitours ende,
On euery gate example we may finde.
In vaine they work to laude him wt such fame:
For heauen & earth beares witnes of his shame.
The rightful sentence giuen of him héere,
Will charge his conscience in the time to come:
Although they say he is excused there,
And shall not taste Gods iudgemēt & his doome.
Saint Paul dooth say, in reuerence of ye highest:
We all shall come before the seate of Christ.
There to make aunswer vnto euerie thing,
And to receyue reward accordinglie:
If well, the Cittie of our heauenlie king,
Shall recompence our former miserie.
Where we with Angels voice continuallie:
Shall laude the gaine we haue so happilie.
Then blinded mallice shall perceyue and sée,
His owne deuises Author of his rueth:
And how true Subiects haue felicitie.
In recompence of their assured trueth.
The one condemnd for his disloyaltie:
The other crownd for his fidelitie.
Can Treason then preuent our happy peace?
Or blustring winds assayle our sprouting Trée?
No, soueraine Faith sends down her due encrease,
And shroudes her Plant in swéete tranquilitie.
So that the foe presuming on his might:
Is forste to know: Faith can preuent him quite.
Let vs not feare a mortall Tirant then,
Séeing Faith & Trueth dooth eleuate our harts:
God hath reserued one to conquer ten,
Let vs then learne to play true Christiās parts.
The head of him that sought our Coūtries wo:
Dooth witnesse shame to all that seeke it so.
His youth dooth byd vs bannish filthy pride,
his fleeting hēce, to serue our Prince in trueth▪
His lew [...] profession dooth lay open wide,
To fall from God, how gréeuous is the rueth.
His home returne, his Challenge, & deface:
Saith: Subiects, keep true harts in euery place.
His Hardle drawes his sect vnto like ende,
His spéeches there, vnfolde their tretcherie:
His death dooth say: Who so his life dooth spēd
In faith and trueth, reapes ioy eternallie.
His first and last, and all agrée in one:
Ther's none to helpe vs, but our God alone.
Blessed be God, who cut him off so soone,
Thāked be Christ, which blest his seruants so:
Happy are we, that haue such comfort woon,
curssed are they that thought to work vs woe.
Bounden we be to giue eternall prayse:
To Iesus name, who did such refuge rayse.
FINIS.

¶An other vpon the same.

WHat iron hart, that would not melt in woe,
what stéele or stoone, could kéepe him drie from teares:
[Page]To sée a Subiect fall from duetie so:
And arme him selfe vnto his Coūtries feares?
In their thrée deaths, ye standers by might sée:
The ende of hatred and disloyaltie.
England may mone a Subiect erred so,
Without respect of God and Natures lawe:
And we our selues may show some signe of woe,
That treason should our brother frō vs draw.
That Antichrist should gain our Cāpiōs hart:
And make him Soldier to his coūtries smart.
The skowling skies did storme and puffe apace,
they could not beare ye wrōg yt malice wrought:
The Sun drew in his goldē shining face,
ye moistned clowds shed brinish teares wt thou­ght.
The riuer Thames against his course would rū:
To count the treasōs, Cāpion would haue doon.
Nature her selfe, with teares bedewd her face,
Duetie in countenaunce, looked pale and wan:
Shée, for to think her worke should her disgrace,
He, to be wanting in an English man.
Euen Antichriste, the eldest childe of hell:
Began to blush, and thought he did not well.
For loe, beholde, when Campion made his end,
His hardned hart, refused soueraigne grace:
[Page]His owne reproche did so his minde offend,
That treason did appeare vpon his face.
An yrksome spectacle was presented then:
In sight of God, of Angels, Saints and men.
The heauens did cléere, ye Sun like gold did shine,
The Clowdes were drie, the fearfull Riuer ran:
Nature and Vertue, wipte their watred eyne,
To sée that Iustice, cut off such a man.
Men, Angels, Saints, and all that saw him die:
Gaue thankes to God in heauenly melodie.
They saw Peruersenes had withdrawn his minde,
And Treason quite supplanted Dueties awe:
Presumptuous thoughts, did hūble Patience blind,
There was no place for Graces, well they sawe.
His falsehood, treasons and impietie▪
With blame and shame, did ende in infamie.
By whose example, euerie Subiect maye,
Be warned howe they fall in such abuse:
And all their thoughts on loyaltie to staye,
Least they likewise doo taste like sharpe refuse.
For Honour dooth exalt the Subiect iust:
When Horrour throwes ye Traitour in ye dust:
Reioyce, be glad, triumph, sing Himnes of ioy,
Campion, Sherwin, Brian, haue their due:
[Page]They are supprest that sought our great annoy,
I hope their fellowes shortly shall ensue.
For faithfull minds doo lothe yt they should liue:
Who to their Countrey, doo dishonour giue.
FINIS.

A Dialogue betweene a Chri­stian, and Consolation.

Christian speaketh first.
IS chaste Susanna in the Iudges handes?
Is Daniell left vnto the Lions iawes?
Doo Subiects breake bothe God & Natures bādes?
And Enuie séeke to put downe Peace her lawes?
Dooth perfect awe, and true Religion fayle?
Then may I feare that falsehood will preuayle.
Consolation.
No, Susans foes the Lord will cut in twaine,
and stop the mouthes of Danielles enimies:
Reioyce therfore, thou hast a noble trayne,
Armde by the Lord in most triumphant wise.
Whose life and death, thy quarrell will begin:
To vanquish falsehood, Sathan, hell and sinne.
[Page] [...][Page] [...]
Beholde of late, a Champion of their traine,
Confuted, foyled, yea, and vanquished:
With those who did like tretcheries maintaine,
In their deuises, they soone perished.
Lament not then, for Iustice holds ye swoord:
Who to them all, will like desert affoord.
Christian.
Alas I mourne, and sit with sighing minde,
To sée my natiue Countrey men rebell:
Against the onely Phaenix of her kinde,
Who dooth in grace and goodnesse all excell.
And could proud Cāpion thinke to worke her woe:
O Lord cōfoūd them all, yt séeke it so.
What were his giftes, if we recount ech one?
A pregnaunt wit, I graunt to tretcherie:
A bad Diuine, seeking promotion,
A lustie man, detesting chastitie.
A gracelesse impe, sprung vp of basest kinde:
A simple man, to beare a loftie minde.
His pithie wisedome, style and eloquence,
Comparde with those of fame and dignitie:
Dooth open plaine his fréends insipience,
His confutation prooues it woorthilie.
[Page]All the reportes, whereby his fame began:
Were neuer found to harbour in the man.
Then boast no farder of his dreadlesse minde,
Which rack nor roape, could alter as you say:
Recount his treasons, cruell and vnkinde,
And then his prayse will soone be layd away.
Your praise, his pōpe, nor al you haue in store:
Can make the man, the woorthier ere ye more.
Consolation.
Tis true in déede, their follie is in sight,
vnto their shame that take like thing in hand:
We néeds must win, our Lord himself doth fight
The Cananites shalbe expulst the Land.
Yea, all the déedes of such vngodly men:
Shalbe confounded, nere to rise agen.
Campion his quarters on the gates doo showe,
His treason, doctrine, and his lyfe too yll:
His head set vp, dooth daylie call for moe,
Of those that leane vnto like wicked wyll.
Well may they flaunt, & florish for a space:
But trueth in ende, their dealinges will dis­grace.
Not hell it selfe, our iniurie can frame,
But we shall prosper as the sprouting Baye▪
God can of stones rayse séede to Abraham,
He is our hope, and he wyll helpe vs aye.
Christian.
Fiat voluntas Dei, then saye I,
I trust in God, whether I liue or die.
FINIS.

The Complaint of a Chri­stion, remembring the vnnaturall trea­sons of Edmund Campion, and his Confederates.

O God from sacred throne beholde,
our secrete sorrowes héere:
Regard with grace, our helplesse grace,
amend our mournfull chéere.
Thy Creatures whome thou hast appoint,
to liue in Princesse awe:
Forsake their duetie, looue and feare,
and spurne at dueties lawe.
[Page]Alas, I rue to thinke vppon,
their factes so lately scand:
Howe they did séeke their Princesse death,
and spoyle of natiue Land.
Thy Treasons Campion is bewaylde,
of many farre and néere:
To thinke what vnkinde actions, thou
wouldest haue perfourmed héere.
Bohemia Land may well reioyce,
Rodulphus Court be glad:
That thou to recompence thy paine,
such due desart hast had.
Germania maye leaue off to mourne,
yea, Spayne to muse and Italie:
And Fraunce may rent that false report,
of thy surmised Tragedie.
They that would make these men to séeme,
as not her Highnesse foes:
O Lorde it is a world to sée,
the fayned fraude of those.
For when as Campion had presumde,
to challenge a dispute:
His craftie cloake was soone pulde off,
Learning did him confute.
Albeit his cauilles, skornes and coyle,
he bare with shamelesse face:
Yet trueth pulde off his craftie vayle,
and shewed his wretched case.
[Page]So that although they did withstand,
eche cause of right and reason:
Yet Iustice soone found out the depth,
of their most wicked treason.
Iustice perceiu'd, how vnder cloake,
of their Religion:
They comprehended trayterous guile,
and false sedition.
Iustice perceyued howe they sought,
within their natiue Soyle:
To mooue rebellion and debate,
to worke our secrete spoyle.
Iustice perceyued howe the Pope,
with forraine Princes might:
Would vse our England as him pleasde,
and put our Queene from right.
Howe that these men were sent before,
by his perswasion:
To make all ready gainst the tyme,
of his inuasion.
So that destruction suddenlie,
should come vpon vs all:
Those onely sau'd, had holie Graynes,
or could the watch woord call.
All this did Iustice playne discerne,
with many matters more:
Where through they had the iust desart,
that they deseru'd therefore.
[Page]God saue Elizabeth our Quéene,
God sende her happie raigne:
And after earthlie Honours héere,
the heauenlie ioyes to gaine.
And all that séeke her secrete harme,
or to annoy her Grace:
God turne their hearts, or that they may,
enioy but lyttle space.
Anthony Munday.
FINIS.
‘Honos alit Artes.’

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