I Thinke it a great grace and benefite of God M. Haddon, that your booke, which ye sette out against me a fewe yeres past, with much a doe at the length, this last daie came vnto my handes. Such care hath God put into the hart of Henrie the Cardi­nal, who is a most godly Prince and wise gouernour, to vse al possible di­ligēce, that no such bookes, as may di­steine the purenes of godly Religion, be brought in emongest vs. Had it not benne, that Emanuel Almada Bis­shoppe of Angra, a man excellently wel furnished with al good qualities and vertues, to me moste intiere, both for the streight friendshippe, as also for the long acqueintaunce be­twene [Page] vs begone and continued euen from our Auncestours, had accompai­gned the most vertuous Ladie Marie Princesse of Parma, into the low Coū ­tries of Flaūders, I had not as yet heard any thing either of the booke, or of the Writer. But he, after his arriual in­to those parties, chauncing vppon the booke, thought he could no lesse doe of friendshippe, but take vpon him my cause, and confute your reprocheful wordes. Howbeit in the worke, which he wrote with singular diligence, he tooke vppon him the defence, not so muche of me, as of Religion, of pietie, of godlinesse.

After his returne into his countrie (whiche was much later then we ho­ped) it was rumored foorthwith, that an English man, whose name was vn­knowen, had writen against Hierony­mus Osorius, and that the Bishoppe of Angra had earnestly taken vpon him the defence of Osorius, and this much [Page 2] was signified vnto me by my friendes letters. At the same time, I was pain­fully occupied in visiting my Diocese, the which notwithstanding, I was not so letted, but that I found a time to sa­lute my frind, and welcome him home by my letters, in the which I required of him, that he woulde send me your booke together with his defence. He answered me to euery point of my let­ters, as humanitie, courtesie and frind­ship required. But as touching your booke, he said he was moued in con­science not to send it, vntil he had ob­teined licence of the Cardinal. where­by ye may perceiue, how heinouse and wicked offence it is emongest vs, to reade the bookes of such men, as haue with many errours infected Religion.

This wise man, albeit he had had very exact and perfect tryal of my Religion by long experience, and saw that I was placed in the roome and dignitie of a Bishop, and therefore might of mine [Page] owne authoritie search and trie out what soeuer wilines or craft laie hiddē vnder the couert of your writings: yet durst he in no wise make me partaker of your booke, before he vnderstoode our Cardinalles pleasure. You wil here peraduenture scorne and laugh at his ouermuch superstition. But I shal ne­uer thinke any diligēce that is employ­ed to put away the contagion of such a deadlie or mortal pestilence, to be ouermuch. After many moneths at the length when he vnderstoode the Car­dinals pleasure, he sent me your booke willing me withal to spare some time from mine owne most earnest affaires, to answere you, and so did the rest of my friendes also counsel me to doe. And although it might seme a discour­tesie not to regarde the request of my friendes, yet I would not haue yelded vnto them▪ if in this your woorke my estimation only had ben touched, and not the puritie of the Catholike Reli­gion [Page 3] violated. I was also moued ther­vnto so muche the more, bicause I thought it a point of Christian charitie to trie, whether you might be brought through my diligence, to laie downe somewhat of your engraffed lightnes. For doubtlesse I may wel gather of these your writinges, that in the wri­ting thereof, ye stoode very much in your owne conceite, yea and that in some places as it were rauished with good liking of your selfe, ye stoode stil looking earnestly about you euen for the fauourable applause of your frinds. But how much your cōceit hath decei­ued you, it shal foorth with appeere.

First of al wheras ve say that I am a great framer of wordes and sentences: whether ye meane truely, or whether ye dissēble, I can not tel, but the praise that you geue me, I doe not acknow­ledge. If there be in me any cōmenda­ble grace of speache, truly it is bicause I haue bestowed my time and studie, [Page] not so much in words, as to atteine the knowledge of the highest pointes of learning. Besides that, this qualitie of speach, how simple so euer it be in me (if it be any thing at al) I haue vsed, not to the damnable forging of false Reli­giō, but with earnest and zealous good heart, to the setting foorth of true god­lines.

In the very beginning of your booke ye laie to my charge a great crime of rashnes and presumption: for thus you saie. You tooke muche vpon you, that be­ing a priuate man, separated from vs by land and sea, and vnacquainted with our affaires, durst so boldly speake vnto the Quenes Maiestie. Now Sir, I beseche you, let me learne this one thing of you. What meane you by this worde priuate? Is it a worde of reproche on­ly? Or may it not be applied also to good, vertuous, and noble men? Are there not emongest you many noble men that beare no office, neither serue [Page 4] in any place of the common weale? Saie you so Sir? Are al those that serue not in the Office of Requestes to be thrust out by you from the presence and speach of Kinges? For so you laie the name of a priuate man to me, as though ye estemed it to be a woord of villanie and dishonour: as though you would saie, that my father were some vplandish man, and I brought vp in basenes, of so smal accompte, that I was neuer woorthie to looke any King in the face, and therefore had committed a fault woorthie of gre­uouse punishment, that durst in my letters to name Queene Elizabeth, (whome I alwaies name for honours sake dewe vnto her Princely Maie­stie). But admitte I were not (as I am in deede) of a verie auncient gentle­mans howse: yet it was not the part of a man brought vp in liberal scien­ces, to esteme any kind of men, or any kind of honour more then the orna­mentes [Page] of vertue. For al cognisaunces or Armes either of nobilitie, or of ho­nour, although they be faire and good­lie in shewe, yet when true vertue is away, being false, vaine, and void of al sound fruict, are despised and holden as worthy of no account with euerie wise mā. So that, if ye meane to speake to my rebuke, charge me with some crime or grieuous offence, laie not vn­to me the name of a priuate man. For before I had the office of a Bishoppe, I was, both for fauour, authoritie, and worshippe, preferred before a great number of your calling. If the name of a priuate man did signifie dulnes or lumpishnes of witte, if it did importe any heinouse crime or dishonestie of life: then surely, he that shoulde ob­iect that name to me, should reproch­fully speake of me, and contrary to my desertes. But for so much as we see of­tentimes, that, emongest Princes those mē are in the highest places of honor, [Page 5] which are of al honour most vnwor­thy, and contrariwise those voide of al honour, whiche could most faith fully and honorably serue their Princes: it cōmeth to passe, that the name of a pri­uate man signifieth not the vnworthi­nes of the persons, but the vnluckines of the Princes. For they are so besette and holdē with the seruice of lewd fe­lowes that thei can not vse the vertue of good men. Now wheras you say, that it is nothing decent, that I being a straunger seperated from you by lande and sea, shoulde write a letter to your Queene: I beseke you Sir, teache me: were letters deuised to aduertise mē of thinges behouesul, in their absence, or in their presence? Doubtlesse in their absence. Whie then do ye blame me, that bearing very harty good wil vnto your Queene, I admonished her being absent and seperated from me by land and sea, of thinges apperteining vn­to the establishmente of her estate? [Page] If I had benne present, I wolde haue humblie besought her, not by letters, but by worde of mowth in presence, that, if she minded to saue her life and mainteine her honour, she should es­chew the companie and familiaritie of infamous personnes.

You obiecte also vnto me, that I am not skilled in your affaires. As though I talked not of such matters as are most perfectly knowen of al men.

Last of al you increase the vnwor­thines of my fact with the name of a Princelie Maiestie: as though your Quene did excel rather in richesse and puissaunce, then in gentlenes and hu­manitie, and as though I were suche a man as could not by my letters aduer­tise the greatest Prince in the Christi­an worlde of things of greatest impor­taunce. Acknowledge nowe, I pray you, your most vnaduised rashnes in this your talke, for thus muche you seme to saie. Whereas you haue ne­uer [Page 6] had the practise of the Law, neuer borne in any common weale office (I meane such office as apperteine to mē of Law) neuer offered supplications to any Prince: Who hath made you so arrogant and presumptuous, as to take vpon you to speake vnto the Queenes Maiestie, a thing graunted to me al on­ly, and to suche as I am, and that for great good cause? If you perceiue not M. Haddon, howe fonde and childish this your talke is, I must nedes deeme that you are bestraught of your senses. But if it greaueth you to see, that the Quene geueth eare to some other man that is not of your qualitie, I can not blame you. For whie, certaine it is, that you can not long enioy this your felicitie, if many wise and vertuous mē shal vnto her good wil and authoritie ioyne their seruice and industrie. For the counterfeicted attendaunce of fei­ned vertue, in the presence of true vertue vanisheth awaie. Wherfore, I [Page] geue you counsel to exclude al honest men (of whom, as I vnderstand, there is no smal number in England) from the familiaritie of the Prince, expel them, thrust them out, by proclamatiōs force them to flee out of the Realme. As for me, that am so farre of, there is no cause whie ye should be greatly careful, for so much as it can not be suspected, that I shoulde take awaie from you your gaines, after which as you shew your selfe, you gape so greedilie. But by your pacience Sir, me thinketh ye are of nature very base and abiecte, that for so meane a promotion take so great stomake and courage. If ye can not beare so meane a condition, but that you must needes in respecte of your office, laie vnto me the name of a pri­uate man, what would you doe, if you were called to some higher degree of worshippe?

You saie, that I do goe about to ap­paire the estimation of lawes, wheras [Page 7] in deede I doe thinke, that the good e­state of a common weale standeth and is mainteined by lawes, and am hartily sorie, that through these pestilēt sectes al good lawes customes and ordinaun­ces are fallen to ruine and decaie.

You saie that I appeache all the whole Realme of England, I can not tel, of what, hateful newfanglednes: the whiche is also false. For I haue heard of credible personnes, that the greatest part of that Iland doe conti­nue in the Olde Religion.

Now wheras you require of me to beare with you, bicause you haue tal­ked somewhat freelie with me, as be­ing an English mā, fostred and brought vp of the Queenes Maiestie, and of the affaires of England not ignorant: I commend your loue towardes your coun­trie, I commend your loyaltie towards your Prince, I cōmend your knowlege of things gotten by long experience, I cōmend also your freedom in speache. [Page] But beware you doe not (so muche as in you lieth) ouerthrow your Coun­trie, beware you bring not the Quene into daunger of her estate and life, and when you are pricked and yearked foorth with the goades of your owne madnes, beware you cloke not your erroneous beleefe and licentious life vnder the honest name of libertie. Ye promise assuredly that you meane to doe it, for no debate or dissension of minde, whereas there can not be deui­sed any greater dissension then this, you taking vpon you to mainteine, and I contrariwise to inuey against the most wicked and heinouse malefac­tours of the worlde.

And where you saie, that your pur­pose is to pul out of mens heartes cer­taine false opinions that they haue cō ­ceiued of the state of England: if you can so doe, you shal doe me a verie friendly pleasure. But this one thing I meruaile much at, that you say, that my [Page 8] writings might happē to cause this false rumor and infamie, that is now bruted of England. What say you Sir? Are you only ignoraunt, how long time it is sence England was firste charged with this infamouse report? How was it possible, when the holie men Iohn Fisher Bishop of Rochester, and S. Tho­mas More were openly put to death for their constancie in their faith and Religion: when the good Religiouse Fathers the Carthusians were with most cruel tormentes slaine and mur­dred: when the houses of Religion, in the whiche was appointed a mansion or dwelling place of perpetual chasti­tie, were laid wide open, and turned to prophane vses: when many other momentes of holines were vtterly ouer­throwen and defaced: how was it pos­sible, I saie, that England shoulde be without a very exceding greate infa­mie? But without cause, saie you. Be it so (if it please you) for I wil not [Page] as yet dispute for either part. Yet this muche I saie, that euen at that time there was a great brand of dishonestie burnt into the estimation of English men. But you forsooth, that shoulde haue defended al those thinges with maine pollicie and counsel, were not yet come to beare the swaie, and ther­fore the matter being destitute of such a spokesman as you are, that opinion that was by the constant reporte and brute of al men diuulged, tooke place in al the Realmes of Christendome. How is it then true, that I should caus [...] this infamie (which is so olde) by my writinges set out but the last daie?

You commend my kinde of wri­ting, the which is more then I requir [...] of you. For that I vse in matters we knowen, words not necessarie (as yo [...] thinke) you reproue me. But your re­proch I am nothing offended withal for my desire is to talke of thinges mo [...] clere and plaine, and what were to b [...] [Page 9] put into my Oration, and what to be put out, I thinke it dependeth of my iudgement, and not of yours, whiche peraduenture knowe not, what my meaning is.

You saie that, whereas I pretended in the beginning to doe some other thing, I fel at the length to taunting and defacing of Religion. That is trew in deede, if most vile and seditions he­resie may be called Religion. You say that it is to no purpose for me to goe about to discharge manie Inglish men of the enuie of the facte, for that, (as you saie) their case and cause is al one. And to proue that, you declare the manner of England to be such, that no law bindeth the people there, vn­lesse it be first decreed by the whole communaltie, receiued of the nobi­litie, approued by the Clergie, and last of al authorised by the King, and ther­fore can not stand, that a lawe being made by the ful consent and agreemēt [Page] of al, some men should susteine blame, and some others should be altogether void thereof. The law I like wel: But that it is not kept, I thīke itmuch to be misliked. If the geuing of voices were free, and not wrested and gotten out frō men by threatning and punishmēt, I would like your saing wel. But here to passe ouer with silence the lightnes and inconstancie of the multitude, which may verie easilie be brought to any incōuenience either with the ha­tred of seueritie, either with the shew of gentlenes: and withal to leaue that point vntouched, howe it is a thing impossible for euerie particular man to geaue his voice, but of force they must geue ouer their authoritie of ge­uing voices vnto a few: I would you would teach me this one thing, (for I confesse plainely, that I am a straun­ger, and nothing expert in matters of your cōmō weale) what horrible fact had the bishop of Rochester cōmitted, [Page 10] that neither the grauitie of his person, neither the dignitie of a Bishop could saue him from death? Went he about anie treason against his coūtrey? Had he conspired the death of the Prince? Had he entred into talke with foraine ennemies to betraie his owne com­mon weale? Nothing lesse. But bi­cause he most constantlie refused to yeeld his consent vnto a wicked sta­tute, the holie and innocent man was so punished, as though he had ben the most detestable traitour in the worlde. What had Thomas More committed, a verie good man, and excellentlie well learned? Had he forged the Kinges letters patentes▪ Had he embeseled the Kinges trea­sure? Had he kylled or greuously in­uried any of the Kinges subiectes? No suche matter. But onelie bicause [...]e woulde not claw and flatter the [...]ing, but rather woulde speake his [...]inde freelie: they chopped of his [Page] head before al the people, as though he had ben a fellon or traitour. But now what saie you to the Carthusiās, most vertuouse, godly, and religious Fa­thers, men in pleading at the barre vn­acqueinted, in the cōmon affaires and practises of the world vnskilful? Why were thei so cruellie handled? Why were they trussed and hanged vppon gibbets? Whie were they dismēbred and quartered in peaces? Whie were they finally burned and cōsumed with fier? dowbtlesse bicause they would not with their voice allow and make good a thing, that vnto them seemed wicked, heinouse, and vnworthie to be named. What shal I say of the holie bi­shops, whom you haue lodē with yrōs fetters and chaines, whom you haue shut vp in darke and close prisons, whom you haue robbed both of goods and honour? Haue you any thing elles to laie to their charge, but that they would not geue their asfent to your [Page 11] statutes, which semed to them vniust? And therfore it is no wonder, if other men being with such cruel and hor­rible punishments put in extreme feare be not ouer bold to declare their mind freelie in open place. For where the geuing of voices is not free, but forced of men by feare and terrour, there rei­gneth, not the coūsel of the whole, but the lust and outrage of a few. You doe not therefore sufficiently proue, that those lawes were made and allowed by the cōmon agreement and consent of al states. For it is manifest, that they were violently forced, and that who so euer did gainesaie them, was ex­tremely punished.

As touching my humble suite vnto the Queene, wherein I besought her Maiestie, that, if I were able by good argumēt to proue, that these authours or brochers of newe fanglednes did most daungerously and perniciously erre, it might please her to esteme and [Page] hold their doctrine as vngodly and de­testable: you say, that it is a false accu­sation without strength of argument: that it procedeth of stomake, and not of loue towardes the trewth: that it is grounded vpon a slaunder, and not vpō reason: that it is a reproch, and not a di­sputation laied vpō the ground worke of religion▪ You require of me the ve­rie same thing, as I required of your Quene: that is to wit, that if you were able to shew, that I had without good cause found fault with the gouerne­ment of your common weale, I should repent me of myne offence.

First of al, I take Christ Iesus to wit­nes (who only knoweth the secrettes of my hart) that I wrote those my let­ters neither for hatred, neither for dis­pleasure, neither for reproche (as you say) but for earnest good zeale and loue I beare to the trewth and to the welfare of the whole realme. For what haue Inglish men hurt me more [Page 12] then other men? What wrong or dis­pleasure haue thei done me? Trulie ne­uer a whit. But contrarie wise I haue ben informed by the letters both of Antonius Augustinus Bishop of Ilerda, a man for his excellēt vertues and singu­lar knowledge in the liberal sciences, wel deseruing the dignitie of a bishop together with immortal fame (who was sometime sent from the bishop of Rome legat vnto Quene Marie) as al­so by the letters of Iohn Metellus a Burgonion, a man, whom for his cour­teous and swete conuersation ioyned with rare giftes of learning I loue ve­rie intierly: that manie great learned men in England did geaue m [...] a verie honourable report. Wherefore there was good cause, whie I should rather loue English men, then malice or re­uile them. Neither did I euer thinke to reprooue your common weale, but the corrupt lewdnes of a fewe, which disquieteth the whole realme. [Page] And whereas you charge me with cu­riositie for medling in a straunge com­mon weale: I thinke it is no straunge common weale, but myne owne. For I did not reason of the lawes of your Realme and ciuile ordinaunces, but of Christiā religion, for the which I am not afraid to loose my life. And therefore shal I neuer thinke any thing to be impertinent to me, whereby I may mainteine and set foorth the ho­nour of this common weale. Consider now, M. Haddon, how iust your re­quest is. This is your demaund. If you can conuince and manifestly prooue, not that I am in any errour (for that were tolerable) but that I wrote my e­pistle for hatred, euil wil, and reproch: you require of me to confesse my fault and to saie that I was ouer rash, when I tooke vpon me to control your mat­ters, whiche I knew not. Can you on the other side prooue, whereas I meāt louingly, frindly, and religiously, [Page 13] that it was done slaunderously, enui­ously and vntruly? But lest you should say, I deale to straightly with you, this much I promise you faithfully. If you be able to proue, not that I wrote for any euil intent (for that is impossible) but that the rearing vp of this your newly framed religion is without all fault and blamelesse, I wil repēt me of my doyng. I am not ignorant, how daungerous a matter it is, to promise thus much to a man of law. But bi­cause I haue a good affiaunce, that you shal not be able to circumuent me with any malicious and crafty fetch of the law, and my desire is to discharge honest men of slaunderous reportes: I promise you thus much of myne ho­nestie: if you be able to proue, that those felowes be honest, godlie, and religious men, whiche I take to be lewde and wicked verlettes, I will neuer speake one word against you.

You take it in snuffe M. Haddon, [Page] that I deale so boisteously with your new maisters, saing that I doo often­times thunder out against them most horrible and fyerie reproches, yea so much, that mans hart can not deuise any thing more detestable. Wherin I perceiue that you can not well dis­cerne, what an argument, and what a reproch is. For I contended not with reprochful woordes, but with argu­mentes, such as you can not yet an­swere. Than you saie. Where are these monsters of Religion? What are thei? How long haue they continued? Where are those misshapen felowes to be found? If you thinke to shift the manifold ar­gumētes which I haue vsed, with such a glittering shew of wordes, you are much deceiued. For I loke for reasons, and not for a vaine noise of wordes. But that, that you bring in vpō this, is a very toy and mockerie. Your woords be these. Declare the thinges, name the persones, note the times, adde the circū ­stances, [Page 14] that we may haue some certaintie, wherin to stād with you, as also to with­stand you. I thinke, M. Haddon, it was longe, ere you were set to the Rheto­rike schole, and that ye were not verie apte to learne it. You would be coun­ted a Rhetorician, and yet you know not that Rhetorique is a prudencie or discretion in speaking: so that what so euer is against discretion, is not conue­nient in this arte, whiche you went a­bout to learne at an incōuenient time. There is a rule of the law, vsual in iūd­gemētes, which is this. Whē the que­stiō is, not of the law, but of the facte, the offence being secrete, we must vse al argumētes and coniectures possible, to bring the truth of the facte to light. For it must be cōsidered, of what con­uersation, of what life, of what auda­citie the partie arreined was: it must be weyed, what feare, what desire, what enuie, what hatred might moue him to committe the facte: it must be [Page] declared, what oportunitie he had, what time, what occasion, what pol­licie to cōceale, what hope to escape, what suspiciō went before, what came after, with all other circumstances, which maie before the iudges increase the suspiciō of the fact. Now sir when your maister (which as it semeth, was but meanelie seene in these matters) had taught you this rule: you thought it wolde serue in al causes, not only in iudgemente, but els where: and ther­fore you require of me such circum­stances as the cause did nothing re­quire. For my meaning was not to ac­cuse any man, but to aduertise th [...] Quene, that she should not suffer her selfe to be brought to any inconue­nience. If you or any such as you are were to be arreined, what? should we, in a matter openlie knowen and not denied, but defended to be lawful­ly done, vse such argumentes, conie­ctures and circumstances as you re­quire? [Page 15] Not so. But it were sufficient to declare, that your doinges were heinouse and vngodlie. And he that should otherwise doe, might worthely be laught to scorne as a trifling and a foolish babler. Why then Sir? If you neither vnderstande what is decent, neither consider what the cause requi­reth, neither perceiue the difference of thinges: is it meete, that I shoulde be punnished for your ignorance? I thinke not so. But whereas my mea­ning was, not to arreine any man, but only to admonishe your Prince, that she would put awaie from her selfe and her realme the peril that hangeth ouer them: could I doo any lesse, but set the greatnes of the daunger before her eyes? And bicause the greatest daunger in the wordle is, to take a false religion for a true: I shewed cer­taine markes, by the whiche a man might discerne false and diuelish here­sie, from true and godly religion. Those [Page] markes, if they be false, reproue them: if they be not manifest, conuince me of ignorance: if they offend not you, hold your peace: if vnwares I touched you at the quicke, shew your greefe.

Monsters of Religion I know there are verie manie, if they be not yet come into England, I am glad for your countreis sake: and I confesse I was in an errour, when I thought that your Iland had ben pestered with diuers and sundrie kindes of such monsters. But your bare denyal is no sufficient Consutation. You must vse manifest proofes: you must declare by good reason, that I was in an errour, and then I will saie, that you are an elo­quent felow. But if you can not doo this, but only prate and talke: I am not bounde to beleeue you. A litle after ye saie thus. You crie out against religiō, you fight against the setters foorth of religion, in these two pointes you vse much bitter talke, and yet in neither of [Page 16] them both do you tel vs either what it is, or where it is. Sir either you haue not read my letters, or if you haue, the meaning of them, whiche is verie plaine, you vnderstande not (suche is peraduēture the dulnes of your witte). Could any man set foorth more plain­ly with wordes, the infamous doinges of men, the great owtrage, and cruell impietie of their procedinges? Anon after, ye take a peece as it maie appere out of some other mās oration, and set it in for your owne, in a place nothing to the purpose. these be your wordes. This your accusation is verie pitiful, the which if I answere but with one woord, ther is no remedie, you must needes hold your peace. It is euen so, sir, you haue made a great speake. The thinges that you haue done, the deuises and practi­ses that you haue wrought, al was don in darkenes and huggermugger. Ther are no witnesses, ther remaineth no footesteps to tracke you ou [...], no signes [Page] and tokens by the which a man might come to the knowledge of your doinges. Then you saie thus. You crie, yea with gaping mowth, and that verie lamentably: that this newly deuised Re­ligiō is to be shunned, abandoned, and ab­horred, that the begynners of it were mi­schieuous persons, murderers, cutthrotes, poisoners, ouerthrowers of cōmon weales, ennemies of mankind. Surely this talke that you ascribe vnto me, is yours, and not myne, how be it I am not angry with you for the deuising of it. For such heinouse offenses would be sha­kē vp with much sharper wordes then these be. But sir how answere you these thinges? Full stowtly I warrant you, they can not be denied. Yet thus you saie. I constantly affirme, that ther is no such thing: I beleeue not you, I require to be instructed. What saie you? What proue you? Oh what an eloquent felow is this, that cā so easily with one clause or sentence, and that verie short, shut [Page 17] vp the whole matter? How manfully you stand to your defence? How wa­rily you kepe out your ennemie? In good sooth I can not but muse at your, folie, to see, vpon how smal occasion (when you haue said nothing at all) you fal to crying out, as though you had vttered some excellent matter. I said in that my epistle, that the Virgins or Nunnes consecrated vnto God, were defiled with incostuous wed­locke: I said that the images of Saincts, and of the Crosse, yea and of Christ him selfe crucified, were pulled out of their places, and broken in peaces. I said, that the olde Religion was ouer­throwne, and a new set vp in the place of it. Other thinges I let passe, re­seruing them to their conuenient places. What saieth M. Haddon to al this? Al these thinges confuteth he, like an Oratour, with one word: and driueth me to the wall, that I can goe no farder. I beleue you not, saieth he, I [Page] require to be instructed. What saie you? What proue you? Whie then what shall I doo? Whether shall I goe? M Had­don an Inglish man, a man verie ex­pert in the affaires of his countrey, [...]aieth pla [...]inly, that thinges that are commonly reported to haue ben done in England, were neuer done. If it be so, I must bring witnesses. And prin­cipally I will [...]ite you to geaue wit­nesse. If you will confesse so muche as I require of you, you shal ridde me of great trouble. If you denie it, then will I call other witnesses to testifie for me, if nede shall so require. After­ward yo bring in these wordes. You crie out as lowd as you can, heaping toge­ther all the villanous woordes in the worlde, whiche, it seemeth, you haue sorted out, and set a side for the nonce, to deface this your counterfaict religion, and to sticke and kill certaine personnes, which no man knoweth but your selfe. [Page 18] I praie you, M. Haddon, sobre your selfe a litle, but euen so longe, as you maie peruse, againe this your talke. You shall see your selfe, that you were starke madde, when you wrote these thinges. For you vtter suche matter, as neither I, nor you your selfe doo vnderstand.

You saie, that I doo deface my counterfaicte religion with woordes of villanie. I omitte the name of coun­terfaicte Religion, as though I had ben the authour or begynner of any newe Religion at all. But how should I my selfe deface myne owne Reli­gion, which I doo mainteine and with dew praise set out? This would I faine learne of you.

Then for the personnes, which you saie I sticke, I wold gladly vnderstand what they are. As for Luther with his adherētes and folowers I take them for most wicked and infamous persones, [Page] and such in dede I doo a litle pricke in my writinges. These are the persons, which you saie no man knoweth but I. And you for sooth, know them not: and yet you commend them highly, which is a point of meruelouse great ouersight in you to commend such as you know not. But you, will neither saie so, neither can you wel tell, what you wolde saie. Doubtlesse it were better, to be dōme, then to vtter such matter, as no man neither sad nor mad can vnderstand.

You accuse me that I haue defamed your most noble Iland, being thervnto brought by pelting rumours of mali­ciouse persones. Whie then, sir, you graunt, that I haue deuised nothing, but what I haue spoken, I was moued to speake by common report. More­ouer I haue alreadie declared, that I spake not against the whole Iland, as you saie, but only against the brochers of your new fangled Religion.

[Page 19] Now whereas I said, that heresie and sectes are popular, which is verie daungerous and noisome to Princes, that minde to rule like kinges, (wherin you M. Haddon, find great fault with me) if I prooue it not by good reason, I am content, you shal take me, yea and proclaime me as a slaunderer. But of this we wil talke hereafter.

The mischieuouse practise of poi­son, wherwith it is reported that cer­taine Princes haue ben killed, you pourge with two examples taken out of your auncient Cronicles. For you saie, that the Emperour Henrie the fourth was made awaie by the treason of a monke, that gaue him the blessed Sacrament infected with poison. You saie also that Iohn king of Englād was by the like man and maner poisoned. I know that both these tales are proued to be slaunderous lyes by good and ap­proued writers. But to my matter, whether it were so or not, it skilleth [Page] litle. Neither did I euer saie, that be­fore Martin Luther there was no man that could I kill in poison, or that be­sides him ther was neuer ill monke or frier in the wordle. But thus much I said, that when such offences are com­mitted in common weales, by men not so well trained in godlie life: it were expedient, that they were re­fourmed, by the puritie of this your most vnspotted discipline, by the whol­some vertue of your gospell, by the goodlie redresse that your Doctours haue brought to the wordle. The whiche being nothing so, but all to­gether to the contrarie, (for it is manifeste that within these thirtie yeares last past manie moe conspi­racies haue ben wrought against Prin­ces, then in many hundred yeares before) I maie boldly saie, that the operation of this your medicine is not so effectuall, as you take it to be. Soone after ye saie thus. But to re­herse [Page 20] these thinges particularly vnto you, is not nedeful, whiche being neerer vnto such mischiefes then I am maie the better learne out of your neighbours bookes: how often the cuppos of poison haue walked emongest the Princes and rulers of the Churche of Rome▪ and how and by whome the sedes of discorde and warres haue suffered thorough all the common weales of the Christian Domi­nion. You are a wonderful fellow M. Haddon. This obscure and intricate maner of speaking liketh you merue­lously well. I praie you what woulde you saie, when you saie that I am nee­rer vnto such mischiefes? Meane you that I am neerer, as accessarie to such faultes? If you saie so (as your wordes seeme to importe), you are not well acqueinted with my manners. If you saie, I am of that countrei, wher poi­son is oftentimes geuen to Princes in meates and drinkes, that is false also. For there is no coūtrey in the worlde, [Page] where the name of a king is more reuerenced then here. If you saie that I am neerer vnto Rome, where such thinges are sometimes vsed, surely you haue not wel learned the situations and distances of countreis. For we are much farder from the citie of Rome then you are. Whereas you saie, that the seedes of warres haue suffered, what your meaning is, I assure you I can not tel. Except peraduenture the printer mistooke, and for this woorde Dispersa, put in vnwares perpessa.

As towching the heades or prelates of the Churche, whiche were made awaie with poison: I graunt that such wicked actes haue sometimes ben cō ­mitted. For it chaunceth often, that, where a man wolde least looke for it, there reigneth most the heinouse vices of coueteousnes and ambition: out of the which two fountaines springeth al euils to the destruction of mankind. Yet this I warne you, that it is muche [Page 21] looked for, that the redresse of al these euils should procede from your Euan­gelike discipline, which pretendeth in outward shew to make an end of al enormities.

But sir, what is it, that you beare your selfe so hohly, so godly, so reli­giously, yeelding vnto God thankes with so kind and mindful hart, for the benefite of this your Gospel. Thus you saie. I humbly hold vp my handes vnto the immortal God, thanking him hartily, that it hath pleased him, by the rising of the sonne of his Gospel openly [...]mongest vs, to driue awaie the most depe darkenes of the times past: through the lack of whose knowledge, and through the affi­aunce of superstition, we walowed be­fore without care in the sinke of vice, beleeuing that by the lead of Bulles, and by the mumbling of praiers not vnder­stoode, was purged, what so euer sinne might be committed in this life. What more godlie praier could be deuised [Page] than this? You thanke God, that you are deliuered frō most perilous darke­nes, yea and that through the light and shining of the gospel, which was wri­ten and set out, not by Matthew, Iohn or any other holy Euangelist, but by Luther, Melanchton, Zwinglius, and suche other worshipful squiers lately dropte out from heauen. And so being deliuered through the benefit of this prosperous and luckie gospel from the stincking dich of al filthines, in the which you wallowed before (as you confesse your selfe) hauing affiaunce in superstitiō: you are now no more sub­iecte vnto the brandes of fleshly lust: you are no more troubled with ambi­tion: you are not occupied in the trou­blesome cares of coueteousnes: you are not puffed vp with pride and vaine glorie: you trust no more to fraude, de­ceit, and lying. For it is like, that hauīg receiued the brightnes of heauenly light, ye dispised foorth with al worldly thinges, and were inflamed with the [Page 22] desire of heauenlie life, yea and (that more is) of the diuine nature it selfe. Who cā deny, if this be so, but that so wonderful an alteration of life doth most manifestly declare the verie pre­sence of Christ him selfe? But I would faine learne this of you, whether you alone in al England, doe enioye these so great benefites, or whether thei be common to al suche, as haue receiued the brightnes of your new gospel. If you alone haue the fruitiō of this light with so great fruict of the heauēl [...] ver­tue: the glittering of this newe gospel hath brought no great commoditie to your coūtrei. for it should haue furde­red, not any one particular mā, but the whole cōmon weale. Oh say you, eue­rie one. for as the sonne rising driueth awaie the darkenes from the eyes of al men: euen so the brightnes of this gospel putteth awaie the myste that was cast ouer all mens heartes. Al thinges are now laid open, al thinges [Page] are come to light. Ther are no faultes in the worlde, no wicked offences, no heinouse crimes, no, none at al. Ther is great good cause, if this tale be true, whie we should forsake our owne countrei, and come to dwel in Englād, that we might be partakers of this your felicitie with you. For what could a man desire more of God, then alwaies to behold suche a countrei, where, for the greater part, neither coueteousnes, norsensualitie, nor ha­tred, nor pride, nor contention, nor rashnes, nor any other spot of vncleane life may take place. But, Sir, I praie you: What was the let, whie you vsed no iustice or godlines, before this new sonne beames shone vpon you? Hor­rible superstition, you saie. for we be­leeued, that through the vertue of a peece of lead, and the mumbling of a few praiers, whiche we vnderstoode not, al our offences were forgeauen vs, what soeuer we had done in this [Page 23] worlde. What saie you? is it to be thought you were al so mad, that you wolde thinke a sinne conceiued in the hart to be forgeauen through the ver­tue of a peece of lead, or by the pro­nouncing of praiers, the mind being otherwise occupied? What a great dulnes of witte was that? what a straunge folie? who had put that er­rour into your hartes? Were there no men emongest you learned in the ho­lie scriptures, to teach you, that al the hope of saluation consisteth in the grace and mercie of Christ? Trulie I hold vp my handes most humbly vnto the immortal God (as you pretend to doe) yeelding him most hartie thākes, that it was my chaunce to be borne and brought vp in Spaigne, where no man (if he be a Christian) was euer so foolish as to thinke, that there is any other waie to pourge synne, but only by the grace and goodnes of Christ. The which to atteine, the necessarie [Page] and onely meane is according to the doctrine of Christ him selfe, to detest and forsake vice, to confesse our sinnes cōmitted with bashfulnes and sorow, to withdraw our selues frō sensualitie to cōtinencie, frō vice to honestie, frō malice to charitie, to enter into a new trade of life, and to exercise our selues in holy workes. Now sir, of you tru­sted so much to lead, that ye thought it of force to blot out sinne: you were not wel in your wit. If you saie that al England was in the like blindnes, you bring a great slaunder of madnes vpon your countrie, that hath brought you vp and placed you in so great worship. No, say you, I saie not so. But I meane by the name of lead, in the whiche we saw the name and image of the bi­shop of Rome engraued, the authori­tie and iurisdiction of the Pope him sel [...]e, the which manie hundred yeres agoe, was holden and esteemed as a thing verie holie, of our Fathers and [Page 24] afterward of vs. This authoritie, which we sometime reuerenced, being now instructed by the most cleere doctrine of this gospel, I doe neglecte, despise, contemne, and thinke it to be estee­med as a thing of naught of all wise men. Whie then, M. Haddon, what needed you the name of lead to si­gnifie this authoritie? Did you it, to make it more odiouse? Or rather thought you by iesting at the woord to gette the greater applause of your compagnions? For I knowe, that pleasaunt sporters, as you be, are muche delighted with iesting, and like to contend not so much with ar­gumentes and sentences, as with sco [...]fing, and (as it seemeth to me) with an vnsauerie kind of pratling. In suche like scoffes and tauntes Mar­tine Luther your youthlie Patriarke and olde wanton was a great doer. And I dowbt not but some of your clawebackes, when he came to this [Page] place, tooke vp a great laughter, and bound it with an oth, that it was mer­uelous pleasauntly spoken, and excel­lently wel handled. For al thinges are so farre out of course and dew order, that it is a verie easie matter for a sawcie reprochful scoffer, to get the name of a merie felowe and pleasaunt compagnion.

But as concerning this matter, al­though the Bishop of Angra hath di­sputed verie learnedly of the authori­tie of the Bishop of Rome: yet wil I reason with you (as with a seculare man and ciuilian) of the said matter in few wordes. First of al let this be a The Mo­narchie of the Church.grounde worke or foundation. The Church of Christ is one and not ma­nie. Then let this be agreed vppon. It is not ynough for a Prince, whiche maketh lawes to establish a common weale, to set them out, except he also appoint gouernours and inferiour ma­gistrates. Let this also be the third [Page 25] ground. (for so much as you like wel myne opinion as touching the order of a Monarchie) that it is most expedient for a common Weale well appointed with customes and lawes, to be vnder the rule of one Prince. For many doe teare and dismembre a cōmon weale, but one by supreme authoritie vniteth and as it were with glew, ioineth toge­ther the heartes of the people. It was therfore most agreable to the best ma­ner of gouernement, when the Prince of al Princes (vnder whose euerlasting Empire are subiected both heauen and earth) intended to set vp a heauenlie cōmon weale in earth: that he should first make Lawes, and then creat Prin­ces and Magistrates, which might ac­cording to the prescribed order of Lawes and equitie, rule this common weale. Suche were the Apostles and the rest of the Disciples of Christe. Last of al, lest the band of this societie might be dissolued, and the peace of [Page] the Citie distourbed: he appointed a Monarchie, and gaue the supreme go­uernement thereof vnto Peter. Are not these thinges commonly knowen of all men? Ymagine you to obscure and darken thinges most clearely spo­ken? Trust you so muche to your ma­lice, that you thinke your selfe able to wrest the wordes of the Gospell from the true meaning, to serue the filthie appetite and lust of you and your companions? I pray you what can be spo­ken more plainely and cleerelie then Mat. 16. c.those woordes? Thou arte Peter, saith Christ, and vpon this rocke I wil build my Churche. And what so euer thou shalt bind vpō the earth, it shalbe boūd Luc. 22. d.in heauen. And againe. I haue prayed for thee, that thy faith faile not, and thou being turned, confirme thy bre­thren. And many other places of like effect, which do manifestly proue, that Peter had a Prerogatiue aboue the rest of the Apostles. But you wil saie for al [Page 26] this, that these testimonies of the holy scriptures, which we haue alleged, are expoūded farre otherwise of the new Apostles. I wil set against the authori­tie of your Apostles, the authoritie of S. Ambrose, Augustine, Hierome, Ba­sile and all other holie men, that haue with their writings geuen light to the Church of Christ. But now your Do­ctours wil answere, that although it be true that the supreme authoritie was graunted to Peter, yet foloweth it not, that it was geuen to his successours al­so. Why then I aske you an other que­stion. Did Christe set vp a Church to continue but for one mans life? Or els minded he to establish it for euer? If he appointed, that his Church should stande so little time, he didde not so great a thing, as was to be looked for of his infinite bountie and wisedome: for so muche as he bestowed so much labour and diligence, yea and shedde so muche bloud about a cōmon weale, [Page] whose cōtinuance was limited within the bounds of so short time. If he min­ded that his church should cōtinue for euer: then doubtlesse he set it in such order, as should in al chaunges and al­terations of times be mainteined and kept. If it be then euident (as it is most euident and plaine) that Peter had a Superioritie ouer the rest of the Apo­stles: it must needes folowe, that the same preeminence or principalitie, of right apperteineth to al suche as haue succeded in Peters roome and charge. Or els, in the Church of Christ, which is one, it might seeme there was ordei­ned not the order of the heauēly Mo­narchie, but the gouernement of ma­nie. And then what knot or band of concord were there in the Churche? By whose authoritie shoulde the tem­pestes risen in it be asswaged? By whome should seditious opinions and sects be rooted out? By whom should pride and stubbornes be restreined and [Page 27] kept vnder: if there had ben no man appointed in the Church from the be­ginning, by whose authoritie all men should be kept in order? No we for so much as the church of Christ is simple and one: and one it can not be, vnlesse there be in it one only Prince: further­more being euidente and plaine, that Christ ordeined one onely ruler in his Church, whom al men should acknowledge and obeie: finally being out of al doubt, that this preeminence apper­teineth to the Successours of Peter, and that none of al the aūcient Fathers endewed with the spirit and grace of God euer doubted, but that the bishops of Rome were the successours of Pe­ter (as bothe their writinges, and the common agreement of the vniuersall Church declareth): with what sprite were your newe Apostles moued to bring in this new Gospellish doctrine, to distourbe the order appointed by Christe, to breake the bande of vnitie [Page] and concord, to shake the very Rocke and staie of the Churche. But lest some man shuld thinke, that these thin­ges were wrought of them without any cause in the world, I wil briefly de­clare, what their deuise, or rather what the fetch of Satā was in this enterprise. It was vnpossible that euer the pestilēt sects should gather any strēgth, except the authoritie of the Bishop of Rome had ben first weakned. For how could the mischieuous weede haue growen any long time, whereas it was a very easy matter with the authoritie of the Bishop of Rome▪ forthwith to cut it doune, so soone as it appeared aboue the groūd. Take vs (saith the spouse of Caut, 2. d.Christ) the litle foxes, that destroy the Vineyardes. This request of the spouse who shalbe able to fulfil, if noman haue authoritie to suppresse the malice and lewdnes of heretikes, before it waxe great? For it is manifest that by the fox­es are vnderstode heretikes. And ther­fore [Page 28] S. Paul in his second epistle to the 2. Thessal. 2. b.Thessaloniās saith, that Antichrist shal not come before: he great reuoltīg or departure frō the catholike Church of Christ. It is therefor necessari for these yong Antichrists, which (as S. Iohnsai­eth) do in figure and significatiō repre­sent the great Antichriste to come, be­fore they can bring their purpo [...]ed mi­schief to passe, not only to depart them selues frō the Church, and from the su­preme ruler of it, but also to solicite and procure to the like departure all such as they mind to carie away, and make their disciples: and this is the cause that al heretikes, whose chiefe endeuour and principal intent is to ouerthrowe the catholike Church, do first of al as­saile this fortresse, do here plant their ordinaunce, doo here make their bat­tery, do here vndermine to ouerrhrow the forte. For they see, that if this fortresse were once ouerthrowen and wonne, they may frely sow the seades [Page] of al naughtines, and to the ruine and decaie of manie, flee vppe and downe through the worlde, whether so euer thei list, without any cōtrol or checke. And to passe ouer the olde Heretikes, this was the cause whie Hus [...]e ende­uoured to ouerthrow the authority of the Bishop of Rome This was also the meaning of Hierome of Prage, when he went about to weaken the authori­ty of the said bishop This was the way, by the which FrierLuther thought vt­terly to destroy the Catholike church. This was the traine, by the whiche in Englād a gap was vnaduisedly opened to al suche errours, as sence that time haue followed. Nowe the railes and barres being after this manner broken downe, and the gates laid wide open, it was a very casie matter for al vile and desperate felowes to rush in, to mangle and teare in peeoes the vnitie of the Churche, to bring in so many wicked errours, suche horrible sectes, suche a [Page 29] rable of pestilent opinions, one directly against an other▪ The Zwinglians fight against the Lutherās. The Anabaptists kepe continual warre with the Zwin­glians. What should I here reherse the heretikes called heauenly Prophetes, the Interimnists, and such other names of sectaries? What should I saie of the hatred, malice brawling, and discorde within them selues? What shoulde I speake of their variety and incōstancy in opiniōs? Yea and such as are of one sect, are not al, nor alwaies of one opi­nion. Many points of their Doctrine they correct, they alter and chaunge, the [...] turne in and out, they blot out the old, they make newe, nowe they pull downe, and now they set vp, they can not wel agree neither with other men, nor yet with them selues. What saye you to this Sir? Are not these thinges true? Can you saie, that al such as are sprōg of Martine Luther, are through­ly agreed? that there is emōgest them [Page] no debate, no discorde, no diuersitie of opinions, but contrarily moste per­fect agreement in matters of faith and religion? O M. Haddon how muche better had it benne to reuerence that peece of lead, whiche you so muche scorne at▪ then to open a way to so ma­ny, yea and those so pestilent errours? But let vs returne to your Oration. These are your wordes.

But the authority of the holy Scriptures hath thundred in our eares, and hath made vs so affraid, that casting awaie the deuises of men, we runne onely to the free mercie of God. What is this? Do you so requite Luther, to whome you are bound for this singular benefite? For it was he that draue all feare out of your hartes. What terrour is this that you speake of? What feare? What carefulnesse of minde? Suche is the faith, that Luther deuised, as being once well planted in your hearte, no feare in the worlde shall euer be able [Page 30] to shake the quietnes and securitie of your conscience. And, me thinketh, that it is not to be borne, that you saie, you doe despise the deuises of men. For you are not so farre forewarde in the waie of heauenly life, but that you make good accompte of some men. For the diuises of Luther, Zwinglius, Bucer, Caluin, and such other as were the founders of this your new cōmon weal, you haue learned them, you haue greedily snatched them vppe, yea you haue with heart and minde embraced them, striuinge within your selues, who shoulde be foremoste in them, finallie you haue decreed to frame the order of your life after their directi­on. Whereby we gather, you looke not so steddilie to heauenwarde, but that sometimes you looke downe vppon menne. And well donne too surelie. For righte and reason requireth, that you shoulde alwaies haue bothe in your eyes and heartes [Page] suche men as they were, so chaste, so holie, and so religious. But yeat this muche I tel you by the waie, your minde was not so feruently inflamed with the loue of heauenly thinges, but that you did highly esteeme some men withal. Admitte that Frier Luther had ben a holie man (euen as holie as you list to make him) that Melanchon had ben void of al earthlie affection: that Zuinglius for the meruelouse reporte of sincere and chaste life had ben ad­mitted to be one of Gods owne priuie coūsel: that Bucer had excelled al men in cleane, honest, and chast conuersa­tion: that Caluine had passed in vertue and holines Bernarde, Anselme, Au­gustine, Ierome, Basile, and al other holy men, that haue lead an angelike life here vpon the earth: yea adde vn­to these (if it please you) euen your owne Martyr, whose rare vertue you commend so highly: Admitte I saie, that these men had ben most excel­lently [Page 31] furnished with al the highest vertues, yea and most chaste withal: yet were they men, and it is not im­possible, but that they might haue ben in some errours. And yet doo you e­steeme their lawes, decrees, and ordi­nances, as a discipline of moste high wisedome, and as a most holie rule of mans life. With what face then saie you, that you despised, and reiected the deuises of men, whereas you doo ascribe vnto those menne that I haue here named, almoste a diuine perfecti­on? But now let vs consider the ende of your oration. Soone after you bring in this clause. Hauing in like manner regarde vnto the saying of the Prophete, where he commaundeth vs, that wee should confourme the innocencie of our life vnto holinesse and iustice. In this place I merueiled excedingly, not at you, M. Haddon (for it is not credi­ble, that so graue a man as you be, should lie so impudently) but at the [Page] slaūderous report of men, which with feined tales, and forged cōplaintes (ab­using vs being straungers, and ignorāt (as you say) of your affaires haue made vs beleeue that you conforme you selues, not vnto holines of life by the law of God, but vnto licentious lewd­nes through vnbridled luste and bolde presumption. And the doctrine of that mad felowe Martine Luther made it seeme the more probable, the whiche cōdemning wickedly al good workes, and burning at a sermō the Canōs and holie ordinaunces of the Church, and teaching for a sownd doctrin this pre­sumptuous affiaunce, vnto the which alone he ascribeth saluation, calling it rashly and impudently by the name of faithe, and putting quitte out of mens hartes al feare of lawes bothe of God and man, setteth out sensualitie in her ful strength and force, geaueth fleshlie lust free scope and libertie, pretendeth hoope of impunitie, boldeneth men to [Page 32] al synne and wickednes. Wherefore I thought it impossible, that a man obseruing his preceptes, should withal geue his mind to iustice, vertue and religiō, or take great care how to keepe him selfe chast and honest. For it is the part of a wise man, when he seeth the cause to doubte nothing of the euent. And it is commonly seene, that naughtie be­gynninges haue the like ending. What should I then do? Seing iust cause of in­famie, hearing it most commonly, yea and sadly reported, that you are in farre worse case, then you pretende to be: weying withal the constant fame, which is, that such as folowe this new religion, are not only subiect to fleshly and vncleane liuing, but also much in­creased in al wicked and heinouse vi­ces: should I not beleeue it? Should I stande against moste credible per­sonnes reporting it? Should I without any groūd, without witnesses, vainely contend, seing the cōmon agreement [Page] of al men confirming this opinion? I could not doe it. Wherfore if that be false, whiche was constantly and not without inward sorow of al good men reported, you must pardon me, and lay the fault vnto the lightnes and impu­dēcie of certaine men bearing you no good wil, whiche were the deuisers of this false report. But if it be true that is reported, then are you a very madde man, if you thinke by lying and facing to wash out the spot of true infamie.

Here you muse againe what I meāt to aduertise your Queene, to beware of suche as are infected with these he­resies. And here I tel you againe, that, when I come to that place, I wil doo my endeuour so to handle it, that you shal no more muse at it.

You declare vnto me the felicitie of your Quene, that she aboundeth in riches, that she liueth in prosperitie, that she feareth no treason, neither of her owne subiectes, neither of foren­ners. [Page 33] I am right glad of it, and I pray God graunt her alwaies a good, pro­sperous and flourishing reigne. Yet is it the part of a wise Prince, in calme weather to thinke of a storme, and to consider long time before, not when the mariners them selues begynne to tremble and quake▪ howe to saue her selfe: and seing with what tempestes the maiestie of other Princes hath ben ruffled in diuers and sundrie realmes, to mistrust, that her maiestie also maie experience the like fortune. Of the tempest in Fraunce, the which you say is asswaged, I saie nothing elles, but that you beare witnesse against your owne selfe. For, I praie you Sir, who stirred vp that tempest? Who armed the Frenche m [...]n against the King of The re­bellion in Fraunce.Fraunce? What discipline or instructi­on had they, whiche contrary to their oth taken in the face of the worlde, conttarie to they▪ allegiaunce to­wards their Prince, finallie contrarie [Page] to the maiestie and reuerence of king­ly name, set them selues in armour a­gainst the Kings owne person, not on­ly traiterously and villanously to dis­patch the King out of his life, but also to abolish the name of a King vtterly out of the common weale? And you say, the tempest is asswaged. As though I had said that, what so euer such trai­tors had most wickedly and rebelliusly deuised, must nedes haue a prosperous successe. No, no. Their wicked attempt was repressed by policie and force, and especially by the great grace and be­nefite of God: it is nothing long of thē, that (like rebelles) made warre against their prince. For to haue brought their purpose to a mischieuous ende, there lacked not in them any good wil, but strength and power.

My discourse of the contempte of wordly thinges and desire of heauenly things you mislike not: but you ar mad angry with me, bicause I cal such men [Page 34] enemies of Religion, as you saie were the seruaūtes of God, and sent frō hea­uen for the saluation of the world▪ and it greaueth you, that I should laugh at their vaine and folish attēpts. Tel me I pray you Sir, what take those felowes vpō them, which were sent, as you say from heauē? Doubtles, to deliuer Chri­stian men from errour, throughly to purge the Churche, to restore the do­ctrine and rule of the Apostles life, to set the truth at libertie, whiche was, as you say, oppressed with coueteousnes and ambitiō, to pul dreames and super­stitiō out of mēs harts. I said this was a great vaūt. But Sir, this kingdō of God which they tooke vpō thē to maintein▪ this glorie of God, for the which they haue entred into so gret a cōflict, doth it cōsist in words ōly, or in the workīg of vertue? Surely if we beleue S. Paul, it stādeth in the strēgth and cōstant wor­king of vertue: wherfor if they mind to proue themselues honest mē, let them [Page] restore the old modestie, humilitie, pa­tience, meekenes, obediēce, chastitie, puritie, innnocentie, the chastising of the bodie, the continual warre bothe against the tyrannie of the flesh, as al­so against al other vices: let them re­store that earnest loue and seruent charitie, that continual meditation of heauenly thinges, that godly exercise of praier vnto God both day and night for the prosperous estate and saluation of al men: Let them take vp the crosse on their shoulders, and crucifie al vn­cleanes of synnes: let them forsake al pleasures of the world: let them pul vp by the roote the very stringes of car­nalitie▪ finally let them mortifie al the vnbridled passions of their willes: that nothinge liue in them, but the power and wil of Christe, and then wil we beleeue, that they haue fulfilled their promise, and quitte them selues like true men of their worde. But if they haue done no suche thing, but rather [Page 35] by their examples of life and doctrine haue brought to passe, that men liue more frely in al kind of vice, that they are the readier to commit sacrilege, that they are the bolder to venter vpō any vile, and heinouse offence, that they are the fierser and creweller (yea more desperat then any mans hart can thinke) to doe villanie and violence to their Princes, for whose safetie they ought to hazard their owne liues: if they forgetting Religion bend them selues wholly against religion: is it not plaine, that they are not onely to be scorned and laughed at, but also to be abhorred, and detested as the most horrible and crewel pestilence of a common weale?

Wel wel, saie you, I perceiue at the length, what this your new sect is, against the which you haue so sharply whetted your eloquence. Oh what a pleasure youhaue to speake doubtfully and ob­scurely? What saie you M. Haddon? [Page] Say you that you do at lēgth vnderstād, what my new secte is? Say you that I do maintein any newfangled sect? that I do allow their wicked actes, which I accurse and detest? That I am fallen frō the faith and Religion of the holy Ca­tholike Church? And then how stand these thīgs together, that I should whet my eloquēce against that secte, which (as you sai) I folow my self? Moreouer, by what argumēt cā you proue it? You haue peraduēture heard saie, that I was a voluptuous mā, geuen to pleasure and vncleanes of life, desirous of nouelties, hastie and headlong to make sedition, debate and discord emōgest men. And therfore you thinke peraduenture▪ that I am entāgled with the like detestable vices, as your Maisters are. But cōsider, I pray you, how these thinges, that fo­low, may stād together with this your most impudēt suspition. At the length, say you, I see the aduersaries, whom you would haue to be cut of from the Quenes [Page 36] maiestie, and driuen out as the corrupters of the whole realme. Whie then, if you see, that I am earnestly bent against all such as are the brochers of new fangled sectes: if you say plainly, that I would, they should be driuen farre frō the pre­sence and familiaritie of the Queene, that they should be bānished out of the boundes of England: doubtles, neyther do these innouations like mee, neither do I allow their wicked doinges. But how do you defend them your selfe? I am, say you, of a cōtrary opinion. These professours of the Gospel are the seruantes of God, sent vs from heauen, to awake our sleapines in these daungerous times of the worlde growing now to olde age, and to stirre vp our slownes. These are wōder­ful matters that you say, if slepines may be awaked, or slownes stirred vp. So may feare beare it selfe hardily, and the pleasure of the bodie restreine vice and vncleanes of life, and mad rashnes wel and wisely gouern a cōmon weal▪ [Page] Then it foloweth. They were sent from heauē to cōfute error, to reproue impiety: and therefore they are to be sought out of the Quenes Maiesty, and to be much made of in al the cōmon weale. When ye spake these wordes, you thought to reproue me of lightnes, for beleuing otherwise, of presumption, for writing vnto the Quene. You say furthermore, that it is not necessarie to discusse particularlie euerie point of my accusation, but on­ly to gather them, as it were into cer­taine heades, and so briefely to runne them ouer. Then you add these words. I wil, if I can, put backe the very hornes of your accusation. I woulde faine see with what manhood and strength you wil beginne the matter. It foloweth. First of al, you saie we must consider the persones, bicause they promise nobly, and we must weie, whether they be of habili­tie to performe it, whether they haue so muche vertue and holinesse as they pre­tend. This would I faine see. But for [Page 37] so much as, this holinesse, which you speake of, must be declared in workes, not craked of in woordes (for so doth Christe teache vs to discerne the true Math. 7. [...].prophetes from the false by the iru [...]cte of workes, not by the bragge or vaunt of wordes) I looke you shoulde she we me the miracles that these holie men haue wrought: the which being de­clared, you shall be the better able to put backe the hornes of my disputati­on. For of the woordes I am nothing affraid, the whiche in apparence are merueilous goodly and gate. And this, I warrant you, is the first lewde point in al Heretiques, to cloke their wilie trappes with most holie wordes. For The vvi [...] lines of heretikesby what other meanes might they al­lure the mindes of the simple people, but only by a feined shew of holinesse and innocencie? For vertue naturally inuiteth and draweth al men vnto her. The whiche thing these subtile and craftie fellowes knowing wel inough, [Page] they do on the habit of vertue, the so­ner therby to creepe into the bosomes and hearts of vnlearned folkes. For as the fowlers deceiue the birdes: either with some bait, or els with instrumēts resembling the voice and tune of the birds: euē so do your doctors by setting out the gase of coūter feit holines, they bring vnto their snares the simple peo­ple, where vnwares and suspecting no deceit, thei are takē. For open dishone­sty could do litle harme, (being of her self very foul and deformed to behold) except she did beare the coūtenāce or face of honesty and innocēcy. But feel pray you, what pollicy these plausible and good felowes haue foūd out to stir vp the cōmon people. We were al so­ry to see the maners of mē corrupted, the streightnes of old disciplin relēted, the Priests wallowing in vnclean life, and abusing their dignity immoderatly to gaine and luker. Nowe, as it happe­ned sometimes in the Citie of Rome, [Page 38] the furious Tribunes of the peple, whē the like occasiō was offred thē, to stirr vp the cōmons against the nobility, did not let it passe, but the enuy which was already to much kendled, thei made to burn, putting vnderneth, the fierbrāds of their troblesom ād seditious oratiōs: in like maner these most holy persons, whom you cōmend so highly, whē thei saw into how great hatred the church men were come: thei thought to vse al meanes possible in the world to bring them into farder hatred and displesure. And so, what by finding fault with thē, and what by putting the peple in hope of a better world, they shewed them­selues as ringleaders in this seditiō and fallīg frō the church. And the better to bring their purpose to passe, they vsed many goodly and holy words, bearing men in hād, that thei wold expresse the holy life, not of the Sainctes that came neere after the Apostles rule (for of thē they made none accompte) but of the [Page] Apostles them selues. And so they had alwaies in their mowthes, Christian pietie, the puritie of the Gospell, the holines of most chast Religion, a hea­uenlie discipline, the which to disteine with any deuises or superstitions (as they terme it) of man, they tooke it to be a most heinouse offence. After that they brought all men into great hope and expectation, that the very perfe­ction of the Primitiue Churche should by their diligence be restored, and that the wonderful gifts of the holy Ghost▪ which now were thought to be starke deade, shoulde be reuiued [...]. This goodly beginning how plausible it was to the worlde, euery man may iudge. But naughtines can neuer stay long in one degree: but when it hath once begonne to slide, it russheth fore­warde, and falleth downe headlong. To gette therefore the greater fauour emongest the people, what so euer seemed to them any thing rough or [Page 39] vnpleasant, they tooke it quite awaie. To confesse their sinnes, was very tro­blesome: to punish their bodie with fa­sting, was painful: to be tyed with the bande of Excommunication, was a vexation of minde: to be shaken with the threatninges of Gods iudgement, was bitter. They did therfore most ear­nestly endeuour themselues, to take al such cares out of mens hartes. Wher­fore it is no wonder, if the simple peo­ple, being partlie offended with the misliuing of the Church men (whiche all the worlde talked of) and partlie brought into great hope of a golden worlde and most pleasant libertie, did willingly applie them selues to the fan­tasie of those men, by whom thei sure­ly trusted to be deliuered▪ from al euils, and to haue the fruition of all felicitie and pleasure. But when the fury of the cōmon people was nowe armed with this coūterfeit shew of Religion (good Christ) how garishly these your holie [Page] men ranne to the spoile of the Chur­ches? What greate slaughters of men they made? What a great alteratiō of thinges folowed by and by, with the decaie of al▪ Godlines? And yet you M [...] Haddon make them equal with Ath [...] ­nasius, Basile, Ambrose, Ierome, and Augustine. If they are to be tried by their workes, as Christ teacheth, who are rruly sent from God, and on the o­ther side, who are pricked foreward of the diuel to do mischiefe: if I can see no holie works that your prophetes haue done: if you your selfe can not declare any excellēt vertues in them: if you can bring no holie woorkes for proufe of their heauenlie vertue: what cometh into your minde, to compare men for chastitie of life most cleane, for godly religion most holie, for authoritie of sentences moste graue, with them, whom all the worlde knoweth to be, for filthines of life infamous, for their vngodlie attēptes Churchrobbers, for [Page 40] their vndiscret lawes and ordināces, frā tik ād mad mē. But it is worth while to cōsider how you proue it: thus you sai. Neither shew you any thīg, why thei may not be equal with the auncient Fathers. Yes surely, I wil shew something, and shew withal, how shamelesse you are, which compare vnbridled fleshlinesse, with cleanesse of life, impietie with godlynes, raiging madnes with godly wisedome. Then you saie.

But I wil bring you away from these odious comparisons, for this is no place to reason these matters. Yes M. Haddon, I wil be so bold as to reason with you. If this be true, that in geuīg of coūsel the manners and behauiour of the geuer, is to be weied, and that nothing indu­ceth vs more to credit the coūsel geuē, then the tried honesty of the person: I say plaīly, that it is a questiō worthy to be asked, of what maners and cōuersa­tiō thei are, that giue vs coūsel to folow their opinion. You say afterward. I wil [Page] vphold that our Doctours doe agree with the reuerende Fathers, that they take the verie same way that they did, that they teach in effecte the selfe same religi­on. I would you were able to defende, that the auncient fathers and your do­ctours were wel agreed. Then it fo­loweth. The whiche if it be true, it boo­teth not to make comparison betwen such as are alone. If it be not so, tel vs where­in they disagree. You say wel, if it be so. But before I begynne to declare, how muche the auncient Fathers dissented from your new maisters, I wil tarie a litle to see howe you can proue this goodlie agreement. S. Augustine, saie you, cōplatneth in his time, that flouddes of ceremonies ouerflowed the Churche, in so muche that the Christians were al­most in worse case, then euer were the Iewes. You neuer read that in S. Au­gustine▪ that the Ceremonies, whiche we now vse, are like to the Iewish ce­remonies, and therfore to be reiected: [Page 41] but your maisters haue brought you like an ignorant felowe to beleeue it. S. Hierome, saie you, wissheth that the holie scriptures, which your Churche hi­deth frō al men, might be learned with­out the booke, euen of children and wo­men. S. Ierome writing to Paulinus, disputeth to the contrarie, where he complaineth of the rashnes and bold­hardines of men, which tooke vppon them without any good witte or ver­tue to handle the Scriptures with to much libertie: and of the vndiscrete chatting of foolish women, which ta­king vppon them to expounde Scrip­tures, defined manie thinges verie vn­aduisedly. It foloweth. Basile imploied his vacant time in the most godlie exer­cise of reading and teaching diuinitie. It was wel don truly. for Basil was none of them that take vpon them arrogant­ly to teache doctrine that they neuer learned. Then you adde these wordes.

If Monkes had leued according to [Page] the rules of Basile, no man woulde euer haue touched them with so much as his finger. As though your quarel had ben against men, and not against chastitie it selfe. But admit that their manners were loose, their behauiour dissolute, their life wanton. What then? was there none emōgest them al, that kept their chastitie? There were without doubt. And that the loue of cleane, and chast life was not vtterly decaied e­m ngest monkes, the end of the holie fathers the Carthusians declared full wel, who, if thei would haue yeelded their cōsent to the wicked decrees, ne­ded neuer to haue suffered other pu­nishmēt but only to be married. It was not therefore the misliking of filthie pleasure, that stirred you to such bar­barous crueltie, but the hatred of cha­stitie and virginitie. And I know wel, that not only thei were chast and per­fect men, but also many other that are now bannished emong vs: the which [Page] whersoeuer they set their foote, they leaue behind them most manifest foot­steppes of bashfulnes and honesty. But admit that the greater part of them had ben drowned in vice: was it therefore good reason by and by, to ouerthrow the whol order? How much had it ben more for your honesty, to haue don as the most puissaunt King Fernandus did sometime in Spaigne and Elizabeth his wife, a Princesse cōsecrated to euerla­sting fame? as the most honorable king and renoumed Prince Emanuel: as Iohn the third his sonne, a King for his religion and godlines worthy of most high cōmendation: as Charles the fifth an emperour born to immortal glorie: as Euricus the Cardinal sonne of king Emanuel, in whom shineth a wōderful light of al vertue and holines: finally as all other moste religious Princes did: who seing the manners of monkes to tende towardes a nicenesse, sent for certaine perfecte religious menne, by [Page] whose diligence their vnbridled affe­ction and licentiousnes was tied vp, their loose manners by streighter dis­cipline restreined, and their sleapie mindes styrred vp to the most feruent loue of godlines. And so there are now emongest vs most holie and religious Monkes, whiche folow Basile, Benet, and Bernarde, and Dominique, and Frauncis, in the puritie of most chaste religion, in most earnest and zealous loue of God, in most notable examples of al vertue. Whie then would you ra­ther cut of that, that might haue ben healed? Bicause, as I said a litle before, it was not anie displeasure toward fil­thie lust or life, but the hatred of per­petual chastitie, that stvrred you to Heretiks enemies to cha­stitie.deface and vtte [...]lie to ouerthrow the name of Mounkes. For (as S. Hie­rome [...]aith) all Heretiques haue a na­turall hatred and grudge against cha­stitie. Wherefore there is no doubt, but that, if your Mounkes had liued [Page 43] according to the rules of S. Basile: the greater their perfection had ben, the more displeasure and hatred you wold haue born them. Afterward you bring in these wordes.

We reuerence the Crede of Atha­nasius as it ought to be, neither is there any controuersie betwene them and vs. What great discorde there is betwene your menne and Athanasius, I haue partely declared in that my letter, whiche you so muche reuile. Nei­ther skilleth it muche, whether you be agreed in some pointes yea or no. For I neuer saide, that your Champi­onsdissented from the opinion of the holie Fathers in al matters. But to what end tendeth al this talke? what would you prooue? For sooth, that Luther, Bucer, Zwinglius, Oeco­lampadius, Caluine and other the Mi­nisters of this your gospel, are in ver­tue, holines, chastitie, and religion, no­thing inferiour to S. Augustine, Hie­rome, [Page] Basile, and Athanasius and other holie Fathers, whose writinges seeme to send forth the verie swete sauour of the holie ghost. But how do you proue it? S Augustine you say, cōplaineth, that whole flouddes of ceremonies ouerflowed the Church: S. Ierome thought it expe­dient, that women and children should learne the scriptures without the booke: If Monkes liued according to the rule of S. Basile, no man woulde once laie his sin­ger on them: and we reuerēce the Crede of Athanasius. What then? Can you proue by these propositions, that Lu­ther and Bucer, and the rest of your Worthies are to be compared with S. Augustine, Ierome, Basile, Athanasius in vertue, cōstancie, chastitie, cleanes of life, religion and wisedom? A good­lie pregnāt wit of a yong Logician: he shaketh out his argumentes so fearsly, that he maketh them fitte to cōclude, what so euer him li [...]teth to prooue. Let this fourme of reasoning be once [Page 44] receiued, and what thing is ther in the worlde so muche contrarie to al rea­son, that maie not easily be prooued▪ As if we should saie for example: Ma­humete saieth, that God created the worlde. S. Basile holdeth the same. Basile therefore and Mahumete are moste like in godlie life. Arius con­fessed, that Christ shed his bloud for the redemption of mankinde. Atha­nasius affirmeth the same. Ergo, Arius shined in vertuouse conuersa­tion no lesse then Athanasius. Lu­ther disputeth that all good thinges are to be referred to the grace of Christe: the verie same doth S▪ Au­gustine declare most wisely. It fol­loweth therefore, that Luther hath deserued no lesse commendation of holines, then S. Augustine. See you not, vnderstande you not, consider you not, howe childishly you haue concluded, howe weakelie you haue defended your newe Maisters? [Page] Are you wont in skirmish so to put backe the hornes of your ennemies? This was the principall and chiefest point of al, in the whiche you should haue shewed al the force and strength of your witte, to haue brought al the world in admiration of you.

You saie afterward that I doe taunt and reuile the soule of Luther. As though the minde of Luther did not yet liue in al suche as folowe his do­ctrine. You cal the same Luther the man of God. I knowe not what you are M. Haddon. But if it were lawful to esteeme by coniecture, what ma­ner of man you are, I see no cause why I should greatly commend either your witte, or your life▪ for he that geaueth the testimonie of diuine vertue or hea­uenlie cōuersation to a most filthie and infamous personne, we may worthely suspecte, that he is him selfe subiecte vnto the like vices. Your woordes are these. This man of God, whome you [Page 45] reprochefully call a mad man, in open as­semble before Charles the fifte, gaue a so­bre and sownd account of his faith. That is false. You might better saie, that in the presence of the Emperour him selfe, he most impudently betraied his owne madnes. And, that he was not punished for so doing, it was, bicause he had receiued before hand the Em­perours safe conduicte for his indem­nitie, in case he spake anie thing not agreable to holie religion. You saie. This madde man stoode fast and in safetie thirtie yeares, in spite of all the politike and wise patrones of your Church, were they neuer so madly bent to make him out of the waie. In these wordes you doe not defende Luther, but you reioise and triūph at the ruine of the Church. I knowe that the outrage of Luther hath ben fortified and mainteined by the aide of Princes, and by the furie of the common people: and I confesse that it hath so come to passe for our [Page] synnes. For as God in the old time to punish the synnes of his people, styr­red vp ennemies against them, min­ding by punishment and plagues to bring them backe to honest ciuilitie and godlie religiō: euen so in ou [...] time hath he suffred Luther, and permitted his madnes to be bolstered and borne out by the helpe of manie men, mea­ning by plagues of his wisedome ap­pointed, to cal vs home againe to the feruēt loue and folowing of true god­lines. But wheras you saie, that Luther stoode fast and in safetie: surely you know not wherin safetie standeth, if you be of that mind, that it is rather a miserie to be pounished for synne, then to liue in synne. Furthermore the patrones of the Church (as it li­keth you to call them) perced him thorough with their writinges, and set out his name to all the posteritie, dishonested with the fowle spottes of his most heinouse and filthie life. As [Page 46] for the thirtie yeares, in the which you boast he stoode so faste, you neede bragge no more. For the name of Ma­humete, which hath cōtinnued aboue nine hundred yeares, remaineth yet in verie greate honour and estimation emongest suche men, as doe followe that wicked and detestable secte. But Erasmus, saie you, geaueth vnto this madde man a singular good testimonie of innocencie by these wordes. The doctrine of Luther manie men mislike, but his life they doe with one voice allow. I doe not so much esteme Erasmus, that I thinke my selfe bounde to set my hand to his testimoniall in all matters. And yet I know, that Erasmus wrote against Lu­ther, (how beit not so earnestly as the cause required). For he feared the furious and reprochfull talke of the felow.

You accuse me for saing, that Lu­ther was Popular, and withall you demaunde of me, what I meane by [Page] the worde Popular. I wil do soo much for you, that you maie vnderstād, how fitly the worde maie be applied to Lu­ther. Popular vvhat it is.They were sometimes called Popular, which sought the common profitte of the people, and endeuou­red them selues by strength and dili­gence to rescue the impotent and poore men, when wrong was offered them by such as were of greater force and power. This name therfore was in those daies much estemed and high­ly commended Now whereas it is the propertie of flatterie to counterfaicte vertue, and vnder the pretensed cou­lour of honestie and gentlenes priuily to creepe into the hartes of the simple people: the craftie and malitiouse fe­lowes, whose only bent was to attein to honour, perceiuing that suche as were Popular, were in greatest esti­mation emongest the people, and by common agreement promoted to the highest romes of honour: endeuoured [Page 47] them selues to seeme Popular. And these men considered verie curiously, not what was in dede good and profi­table for the people, but what they li­ked and longed most after as profitable vnto them. And as it fareth now a Clavv [...] backes of the court.daies with manie seruitours in court that hunte after the fauour of Kinges, they spie out diligently, not what stā ­deth most with the kinges profite and honour, but what they most couet, what they loue, and what they would fainest bring to passe, seruing only their vnlawfull pleasure and vnruled affection: euen so emongest free peo­ples did those men, whome we cal po­pular, the Grecians called them [...], that is to witte, leaders of the people: they applied them selues, not to the profitte, but to the pleasure of the people. For the profitte of the people consisteth in a good and dis­crete moderation of thinges: but through inordinate greedines of the [Page] thing that they lust after, and through the name of libertie, it is brought to naught. The common people enuied such as were men of power. These Po­pulares made lawes, by the whiche they were either depriued of their goods, or bannished out of their coū ­trie, or put to death. The people could not awaie with seueritie of lawes. The lawes therfore, that seemed any thing streight, in restreining the vnbridled affections of the people, the Populares tooke quite awaie. The people hated vertue, bicause they sawe, it stoode di­rectely against their vntamed outra­ges: the Populares with their decrees and ordinaunces dispatched all vertue out of their common weales, and so by the meanes of these Populares, the people might without cōtrol or check doe what them listed. But to cōclude, such as came to honor by this meanes, serued the filthie lust, the vicious de­sire, the vncleane affectiō, and the fu­riouse [Page 48] rage of the base people: and did so beare them selues in euerie office, that it might ful wel appere, that they were no free men, but the verie bond­slaues of the vndiscret and mad peple. And the better to bring this matter to passe they marked verie diligētly, not only what the people longed for, but also whome they enuied at for wealth and richesse: and so brought al men of power and richesse to be enuied, styr­red vp the most earnest hatred of the commons against their Princes, set fire vnto the hote rage of the multitude, therwith to cōsume and wast al such as were in high authoritie and honour in their cōmon weales. But how did they profit the peple? Ful wel I warrāt you. For euen those thinges, that the peple most thirstily gaped after, were vtterli ouerthowē. For wheras the nature of the peple is such, that thei cā not beare to much welth and prosperity: hauing once atteined the libertie: whiche [Page] they so much wished for, they fal to­gether by the eares within themselues, they rage and ruffle, they tosse and turmoile, and in the end they wrecke their angre and malice euen vpō them, that were the procurers of this li­bertie. And so, (whereas nothing can longe continew, where discord and madnes reigneth) it cometh to passe, that they leese not onely the libertie and impunitie by the diligence and flatterie of these Populars procured, but also their honest and lawfull li­bertie, whiche they might otherwise haue kepte long time. These are they, that are wont to be called Populars.

Now it remaineth, that we declare, whether frier Luther were Popular after this manner. Is there anie doubt in the wordle of the matter? What other thing, I praie you, intended Lu­ther, but only to flatter the people? Al such thinges as the people hated and lothed, did he not take them quite [Page 49] awaie? The authoritie of the Bishop of Rome, did he not vtterly deface it? The holie Canons, did he not abrogate and disannull them? Did he not stirre vp hatred and enuie against the Prin­ces of the Church? did he not quench in mens hartes al feare of lawes both of God and man? did he not make a faith, which assured men of saluation, were they neuer so wicked, yea and obstinately bent to cōtinew in naugh­tines? did he not shew to al the wordle a great hope of licentiousnes? did he not with his doctrine make those men disobedient and rebellious, which he him selfe had begoten, fostred and brought vp? Is it not wel knowē, that such as had geuen them selues wholly to his doctrine, prooued so desperate and headlong, that he him selfe could not rule them? But how worthely you defend him M. Haddon? If he be popu­lar, say you, that regardeth the health of the people, there is no man more popular [Page] then he: but if you meane, by popular, such a one as stirreth the people to ciuile dis­cord, read his booke, in the which he in­ueieth against the tumultes of the cōmon people in Germanie, and slaunder him no more. Oh what a wise mā is this? How wittily he quiteth the Prince of his re­ligiō? I cal him Popular, whose scholers by hearing his doctrine become sediti­ous. You answere me, that Luther cō ­plained of the tumultes in Germanie, whiche his scholers and folowers stir­red vp. And you are so blockishe, that you perceue not that you speke for me against your selfe. Luther, say you, spe­keth earnestly against the tumultes in Germanie. Why then he cōfesseth, that the selfe same religiō, which he had ta­ken vpō him to gouerne, which he had instructed with diuine ordinaunces, which he had brought backe: to the old puritie of the gofpel, is stirring and sedi­tious. Then did Luther brīg meruelous goodly frutes to his coūtre [...] me [...] ▪ for he [Page 50] made them not modest, but reproch­ful: not gentle, but impatiēt: not quiet, but seditious: yea so much, that he him selfe was forced to set out bookes, and to reprehēd their desperat madnes. O what a holesome gospelis [...] doctrine was this? what a wonderful light cast this diuine mā into the wordle? what a soueraigne salue laied he to the woun­ded cōsciences? Is this, to pourge the Church throughly of vices? to restore againe the olde puritie of the gospel? to proppe vp the doctrine of the Apo­stles▪ begynning to fal? to cause by his doctrine such men, as were of nature quiet, to become so prowd and insolēt, such brawlers and quarellers, that their captaine, yea their owne deere father could not hold them backe? For how manie thowsand men were slaine by ciuile warres in Switzerland styrred Heresse cause of ciuile vvarre [...] ād bloud [...] shead.vppe by Zwinglius and Oecolampa­dius? What a companie of husband men in Sueuia folowing their captaine [Page] Muncer were cut of by the nobilitie? What place was there in al Germanie free from this contagious and pestilēt discorde? The begynners and ringlea­ders thereof what were they, out of what fountaine sprang they? Doubt­lesse out of the rage, madnes, and pre­sumption, of Luther, out of the shop wher the most infamous Lutheranisme was wrought and cōtriued. But some of the forenamed personnes fel out afterward with Luther. Yea and no meruaile. For it was impossible, that such naughtie felowes being al agreed in mischiefe, should long agree within them selues: where euerie one of them sought to be the Captaine. What did Luther him selfe? did he not make se­ditious sermons? did he not stirre vp the commōs against their Princes? did he not vse verie reprochful and villa­nous talke against most honorable per­sonages? did he not most spitefully re­uile th'Emperour him selfe, Hērie king [Page 51] of England, George Duke of Saxonie, and manie other noble Princes? Is it not wel knowē, that al his sermons tē ­ded to the stirring vp of discord and se­dition? What is then more plaine and euident then that the secte of Luther is altogether Populare, seditious and troublesome? And how daungerous it is to Princes, it nedeth no declaration. For what so euer is, after this sort, po­pulare, is, (as I declared in my letters) verie much contrarie, not only to the good estate of the common weale, but also to the maiestie of Princes. If you be not of such conuenient witte, that you are able to foresee by the causes going before, what euent is like to fo­low: you wil neuer fully vnderstād it, though I should declare it with infinit examples. Is it vnknowen, thinke you Heresie ouer▪ throvve of Kings and king domes.that through the naughtines and out­rage of Luther, Ludouicus King of hūgarie was flaine in the fielde with a great multitude of Christian men? For [Page] whē Solimanus Emperour of the Turks brought against the King a great huge armie, ād great daūger was bēt against al Germany: yet the cities of Germani, being partly entāgled with ciuile wars within themselues (the which Luthers sect had caused) ād partly imbrued with the doctrine of Luther (who maintei­ned in disputatiō, that it was not lauful to withstād the force of the Turkes) ei­ther could not, or would not aide Lu­douicus. If therfore this victorie of the Turkes hath brought such great disho­nour to the name of Christians: if by it ther is laied open a gap into Christen­dom, to the vtter decaie and ruine of Austria and to the great daunger of all Germanie: if the noble kingdome of Hungarie (for the greater part of it) be brought vnder the rule and gouerne­ment of a most barbarous and crewell ennemie: for al this we maie thāke the naughtines and owtrage of Martine Luther. But peraduenture you neuer heard of this geare, and therfore you [Page 52] wil bide by it, that your new gospel is no hinderāce to Princes. What? cā you beignorant of that also, how Edward your owne king was in his childhood most traiterously made away with poi­son? know not you▪ by whom Charles the Emperour a most worthie Prince was both betraid and assaulted? heard you neuer saie, with how crewel trea­son quene Marie a womā most excel­lētly furnished with princelie vertues, was first assaulted with poison and af­terward besieged of her own subiects▪ Is it possible that you should know no thīg of the cōspiracy, in the which was contriued by a cōpanie of most filthie traitors the murder both of the quene and of Cardinall Poole a most noble, godlie, and wisemā? what nede I to re­herse vnto you the rebelliō of the frēch mē, the disloialty, the cruelty, the wast ād spoile of churches and holy thinges in Frāce? what should I say of the king of Scotlād, who was by most cruel vil lanie murdered and slaine? Now they [Page] that haue stirred vp such great broi [...]es and tumultes, they that haue commit­ted such barbarous and horrible actes, frō whens haue they their originall or begynning? Is it not euident to the wordle, that the verie fountaine and spring of al these mischiefes was in Lu­ther? And yet it liketh you to cal him the man of God, one sent from heauen for the saluation of mankind. Tel me, I praie you, what vertues appeared in him so great, that you should conceiue such opinion of him as you doe? what continencie of life? what grauitie of māners? What seueritie? what gentle­nes? what contempte of wordlie thin­ges? what contemplation of heauenly thinges? what time spent in cōtinnual praiers? what daies and nightes passed ouer in weeping and teares for the health of the people? What fasting? what gronīg and sighing? Finally what deedes of most feruēt charitie hath cō ­mended this man vnto you so much, [Page 5] that you dare saie of him, that he maie wel be compared for his excellencie in vertue and godlines, with Basile, and Athanasius, and al other holie men?

First of all, he was, as his owne paiges do confesse, of nature crewel, in his talke rough, wrathful, haughtie and prowde, yea so muche, that he estee­med not Melanchton to be a man. Then his vowe solempnely made vn­to Christ he brake it, and like a most filthie ribaude coupled him selfe with a woman, whiche had in like manner vowed perpetual chastitie vnto Christ in a monasterie of Vrgines: and by this example shewed him selfe to be a captaine and ringleader to al suche, as would doe the like. To be short, he was infamous for many other most heinouse vices and detestable crimes. But least his commendable qualities might seeme to be vtterly defaced with the blemish of manie vices: I cō ­fesse, he could with a goodlie shew of [Page] humanity somtimes hide his rough and boisteous mad nature, and so set forth hīself to the simple people. For he was a pleasant cōpagniō, and at a bāket a io­lie prater in al kind of myrth verie fine, if reprochful taūting may be called ci­uil finenes. He pleasured much in scof­fing and taūting, in reuiling the Princes and gouerners of the Church, in moc­kīg and scornīg of honest plain folkes, Prou. 3. d.such as were true Christiā mē ▪ But our lord, saith Salomō, abhorreth scorners, and cōmunicateth the secretes of his coūsel with the simple. Wherby it may be gathered that Luther was not replenished with the light of heauē. And yet you thīk hī worthy to be cōpared with the most holy fathers. Of felow ship tel me, which of al the aunciēt fathers di­steined himselfe with ribaudrie and in­cest? Which of them brought the cō ­mō people in hope of licētious liuing? Which of them stirred vp with his ser­mons sedition and hurly burly in di­uers [Page 54] and sundrie places? which of them taught mē to put the hope of their sal­uatiō in faith, that is to say, in a only rash and folish presumptiō? Which of them tied vp the wil of mā, which god wold haue to be free, with I cā not tel what bādes of destenie? which of them durst euer affirme, that God was the author or chief cause of al sinne? which of thē euer held that al good works wrought and done of holy mē by the grace and instinct of the holy ghost were vnclean and spotted with sinne? which of them euer toke away the true iustice, which by the grace and goodnes of Christ i [...] ascribed vnto faithful mē, and cōsisteth in clean life, innocēt cōuersation, and exercise of holy workes: and in steede of it substituted a newly deuised iustice such as was neuer heard of before? For whē Luther denied, that syn was quite blotted out in holy mē by the grace of Christ, he affirmed, that ther was none other iustice, but onely the singular [Page] iustice of Christe, applied to euerie particular man by faith, were he neuer so synnefull and wicked: the whiche being but one in all men, it was im­possible, that there shoulde be anie difference in the worlde betwene the iustice of anie common man, and the iustice of Paule or Peter, yea or of the most holie Virgine mother of God. And you demaund of me what those monsters of religion are. Al these thin­ges, whiche I haue here most briefely comprised, I saie, are the most horrible monsters of religion: and the father of them is not villanous, but villanie it selfe: not frantike and madde, but ve­rie frantikenes and madnes it selfe. What shew of bashfulnes, honestie or modestie could you see in this man be­ing the ouerthrower of all honestie, continencie, and modestie? What glimse of vertue could he so dasel your eyes withal, that you woulde suffer your selfe. to be so daungerously de­ceiued [Page 55] in him? And yet wil you con­tinewe in your errour as you haue be­gonne. And yet wil you acquite suche a pestilēt secte as blamelesse and with­out faulte? And yet will you liken the good holie Fathers to Luther a moste vile and infamous caitiue.

But you triumph excedingly, that he stoode so stiffe thirtie yeares toge­ther, and was neuer punished for his naughtines and owtrage. Can you imagin anie greater punishment in the worlde, then the remembrance of a synneful and filthie life? The remorse of his heinouse offences made him ter­ribly afraied. The feendes of hell tor­menters of damned sowles vexed his mind. The ennemie the diuel shooke him vp, and would not suffer him once to breath or rest him selfe. Truth it is, he woulde banket and make good cheere with his freendes, and there­with somewhat relent his intensif [...] cares. But neither chambering, nor bā ­ketting [Page] is of that force, that it is able to raise vp a mans hart weied downe with the peise of synne. But what Luthers death.kind of death died this noble holie Father? Being at supper with his frinds ouer night he quaffed somewhat free­ly, and the nexte morning was founde dead.

You saie afterward, that there were brought into England by the goodnes of God a golden couple of olde men, Martin Bucere, and Peter Martyr, whose vertues you cōmend aboue the skies. Of them I haue nothing elles to say, but that I thinke them to be verie lewde and naughtie felowes, if for no­thing els, yet for this cause onely, that you so highly commend them. for he that commendeth Luther, it is not pos­sible, that he should cōmend any thing that is godly, honest, or holy.

Whereas you put me in mind that I should somewhat temper my style, and not cal such men arrogāt and prowde, [Page 56] as you esteeme for gentle and mo­dest, signifying withal after a sort the daunger that by them might ensewe towardes me: I woulde ye would ad­uisedly consider, howe illfauouredly your woordes hang together. For if they be verie gentle (as you saie they are) then although I shall reuile them, they will neuer be moued▪withall, but wil meruelously well keepe their pa­cience and constancie. But if they wil fearcely sette vppon me with vil­lanous and reprochfull language: then are they not so gentle, as you make them to be. I knowe verie wel, that vnder the couert of a sheepes skynne Mat. 7. 6(as Christe saieth) lieth hidden the r [...]ugh and crewell nature of wolues. It is also by experience well tried, that there is nothing in the worlde more shamelesse, then these fellowes are. For when anie reason is brought against them, thei endeuour thē selues to answer [...] it, not by reason, but by [Page] multiplying of woordes. And there­fore, when they are pr [...]ssed with ar­gumentes, then beginne they to chafe and sweat, to feare and fainte, to raile and raue, and in the ende fall to plaine scolding, vntil thei haue founde for their impudent assertion some shameles shifte. But beleeue me I feare no mans slaunderous tongue. For I haue committed myne honestie and estimation to the keeping of Iesus Christ, and therefore no man shal euer be able to thrust me out of my place by the violence of his tongue. And as for your reprochful woordes, they moue me no more then the rauing of one that were frantike or out of his witte. Were it not that the loue of godlines had moued me, had I euer written so much as one letter against you? No, not one. I tooke vpon me this charge of writing, not minding thereby to mainteine my [...] owne good fame or [...]stimation, but to [...]on­fute [Page 57] your wicked and vngodlie talke. Wherefore be bolde and spare not, to taunt me at your pleasure, to perce my good name with fowl words, to tour­moile it with villanie, to rente and teare it with al dishonestie: and I geue good leaue and licence not onely to you, but also to all your Bucers and Martyrs, most gentle and softe crea­tures (as you cal them) to bende them selues as fiercely against me as thei can deuise. Wherefore there is no cause why you shuld goe about to make me affraied of them: for so muche as, vnto their tauntes, for the which I care not, I wil neuer answere: and their reasons are very peuish, and alreadi cōfuted by the bookes of many learned men: and I my self am at this point, that I fear no­thing in the worlde but only Christe.

As touching their persons, if there be any sense of humanitie in you, you see how il you haue defended thē. You say aferwarde, that it is nothing true, that [Page] you shuld stand to the holy Scriptures only: for so muche as you do receiue many sentences of the holy Fathers withal. What a doubling and incōstan­cie is this? Now you reiect many thin­ges, for this reason only, bicause they are (as you say) the deuises of men▪ and by and by, you receiue what you list, and say, that you haue not reiected al the traditions of menne. You are so doubteful, so diuers, and so slipperie, that you can not wel tel your selues, what you thinke, and what you mind to stand to. And yet when you spake those wordes, you commended them that acknowledge nothing elles but the holy Scriptures, and refuse al holy traditions and ordinaunces. These are your wordes. Truely if it were so, then folowed they the example of our Lorde Iesus Christe, then folowed they the cu­stome of the Apostles, and of the auncient Fathers in the primitiue Church. How many things you laie out at a venture? [Page 58] It is like forsooth that Christ the mind and wisedome of God the Father, by whose power and dispēsation the law it selfe was made, by whom the Pro­phetes declared thinges to come, of whom al holie men of old time recei­ued their light, was content to abyde that lawe him selfe, that he would not be so hardie, as to speake one woorde, which he founde not registred in the holy Scriptures. I besech you Sir, wher read he in the Scriptures, that a man Vnvvritē truthes.for being angry only, although he vtte­red not one reprochful word, shuld in­cur the dāger of Gods iudgemēt? wher found he it written, that a man for ca­sting his eye alitle aside wātonly, shuld Mat. 5. dbe accounted as an adulterer? By what wordes in the Law was a man forbid­den to geue a bil of diuorse to his wife? In what place was it euer writen, that a man minding the perfect obseruatiō of the Lawe, should sell all his goodes, and bestowe the money made thereof [Page] to the vse of the poore, reseruing to him selfe nothing? Haue you euer read, ei­ther in the law, or in the Psalmes, or in the Prophets, that the way to saluatiō is a narrowe waie, or that you ought, when a man hath striken one cheeke, to holde him vppe the other, or that you ought to pray vnto God for their life, that speake il of you, and woorke your destruction? But nowe to come to other pointes, of the birth and pro­ceding of God: of the regeneration of men in heauenlie life, the whiche Ni­codemus 10. 3. aa man exactlie seene in the doctrine of the lawe vnderstood not: of the time, in the whiche God would 10. 4. c.be woorshipped neither at Hierusa­lem, nor in the mountaine of Sama­ria: of the bread of heauen, whiche is the foode and sustenaunce of our life: of al these thinges what woorde haue you expressely written in any place of the olde Testamente? But when Christ spake these wordes, there was [Page 59] no Gospell yet written, neyther did any writen monumente confirme the sayinges of Christ, but looke what he ordeined by woordes, was afterward put in writing, to the ende that men should not forgette it. I doe here let passe many thinges (minding not to prosecute al that might be saied, for so muche as I haue alreadie spoken suffi­cientlie) to the intent you might vn­derstand howe vnaduisedly you haue saied, that our Lorde Iesus Christ did also obserue such a rule in his doinges. What shall I saie of the Apostles? Where had S. Paule read, that such as Galat. 5. akepte the circumcision of the Lawe, were to be separated from the com­munion of Christe? In whiche of all the holie Writers found he, that it is vnseemely for a woman to worshippe God bare headed, or for a man to co­uer 1. Cor. 11. [...]his head, when he praieth to God? What shoulde I rehearse vnto you; howe he commendeth suche men as [Page] were mindful of his Doctrine, deliue­red vnto them either by writing, or by worde? What should I speake of that, Act. 15. e.that the Apostles say in their Councel? It hath seemed good to the holy Ghost and vs? They saie not. It is writen in the holie Scripture: but, It hath see­med good to the holie Ghost and vs. Nowe as touching the holie Fathers, which peraduenture you neuer read, how durst you affirme of them, that they neuer brought in any thing for the gouernement of the Churche, but what thei had found writen in the ho­lie Scriptures? How many things re­herseth S. Basile, and disputeth that thei were deliuered from the Apostles vn­to the Churche, onely by woorde of mouth? How many such things are re­cited of Cyprian, Chrysostom, Augu­stine, and the rest of the holie Fathers? How much do they reuerence al such holy ordinaunces, as were decreed in general Coūcels? I do here omitte an [Page 60] infinite nūber oftestimonies, which do plainly cōuince this madnes of you, or rather of your Maisters, for so much as not onely the greatest learned men of our age, but also the most holy Fathers of other ages, haue in these points very learnedly disputed against your opini­on. For in times past, al heretikes in a manner held this opinion, that nothing ought to be receiued, vnlesse it were written in the holie Scriptures, min­ding withal to wrest and corrupt the holie Scriptures with their owne in­terpretation. But the holie Fathers most earnestly defended the contrary, alleaging Argumentes and Examples brought euen from the Apostles time, and by the decrees of Coūcels directed they al their doinges. Wherfore suche thinges as you report of Christ, of his Disciples, and of the holie Fathers, are al most euidently false. You say, it is not true, that your Doctours should take any thing vppon them, aboue the [Page] cōmon sort of men. Can you ymagine any greater arrogancie in the worlde, thē to presume to reforme the church, being somewhat impaired, with newe Iawes and statutes, whiche neither Athanasius, nor Basile, nor Cyprian, nor any other of the holi Fathers euer thought vpon: and to set such wordes, and countenance vpon the doctrine of their new Gospell as though they had done althinges by ordre and appoint­ment of Christ him selfe?

You say that I am not able to shew any fault or dishonestie in the worlde in their life. That is true, if we must needes stand to your opinion: For so much as emongest you neither filthie pleasure of the bodie, nor rebellion, nor any other disordre or outrage are accompted as faults.

You find faulte with me, for that I cease not to trifle daungerously, and to hinder the estimation of most graue personages, by whose diligence your [Page 61] Churche hath ben set in a maruelous goodly ordre. You could say no lesse, for such as you doe commend (being your selfe both for vertue and autho­ritie a very graue sire) must needes be verie graue men. Then you saie.

You laie to our charge that the compa­nies of virgins and monkes, which were sometimes inclosed in Monasteries to keepe the Diuine seruice of God, and to mainteine the chastitie os their bodies, were by our men let out to the vncleane pleasure of the flesh, and al other licenti­ous liuing: that their howses were laied wide open for gaine, that lawes were made, that no religion shoulde hinder the pleasure of the bodie. What you meane by their gaine, I vnderstand not. For I neuer suspected, that they did for their gaine cōmit any vile or filthy acte. But you doe in this as you doe commōly. You can not wel tel, neither what you do say, nor what you would say. Then how impudently is that spoken [Page] that foloweth? O [...]t vpon this ouer male­part and licentiouse desire, whiche you haue to peruert all thinges. We confesse, yea and with all our heartes confesse, that, through the moste holie aduer­tisement of our menne, those downge­ous of all wickednes are fallen downe, into the whiche the tender young mai­dens, and the seelie boyes were violent­ly thrust in, to their so great hinde­raunce in good manners, as I can not for bashfulnesse well declare. Oh what a shamefaste and may denlie fel­low is this? What is that, I praie you, that you woulde not for shamefastnes expresse? Nothing in the wordle. for immediatly after you bring in these woordes. Those same shoppes of lewd­nes had litle other thing in them, but on­ly a certaine pharisaical continuance of praiers in an vnknowen tongue. Their o­ther more secrete exercises might wel be likened to the old reuelles of Bacchus in Rome. Tel me I praie you (most pre­sumptuous [Page 62] and impudent railer) could you hane vttered any more spiteful reproche against the poore monaste­ries of holi virgins, if your goodly mai­denlines and modestie had not staied you? Compare you the greene arbour of Christ, the house of chastitie, the re­presentation of heauēly life, with the most horrible and filthy reuels of Ba­chus, whiche were sometime moste sharply pounished by the lawes of the Romaines? And yet you say forsooth, that your may denlie modestie wil not suffer you to expresse their secrete vi­ces. Pleasure you so much in your stin­king eloquence? Like you so wel to taunt and reuile chastitie, to ioyne the defence of your most barbarus and vile acte, with the reproche of Christ? As though the worlde knewe not, that you ouerthrow those holy Monaste­ries, not for any displeasure you beare to naughtines and vice, but for the hatred you beare towardes chastitie. [Page] And of like the greadie desire you had of the goods and possessions, with the which the Nonnes and Monkes were mainteined, holpe the matter well foreward. If you had had no face at al, no shame, no bashfulnes in the world, how could you with more vile and fil­thie language haue dishonested so ho­lie a trade of life? The exercise of Reli­gious and chast life you cal the down­geon of wickednes▪ that is to say, a sincke of al vice, a cannel of filthines, a standing poole of vnclean pleasures. Could any thing be more impudently spoken? And yet you content not your selfe with al this stincking sturre of wordes, but you say moreouer, that the tender young maidens, and the seelie boies were violently thrust into the said Monasteries, to their greate hinderance in good manners. What meane you by this? What would you say? What geaue you the worlde to vnderstande? Is there any vice so hei­nouse, [Page 63] that it may not be wel compri­sed in this your shamelesse talke? After this there foloweth the moste beastlie word of all the rest, where you cal the holie discipline of cleane life and con­tinencie, a shoppe of naughtines. As for the Pharisaical continuance of praier, which is but a tricke proceding of Lu­thers railing sprit, I wil let it passe. But wherto tēdeth the comparison, which you make with the most vncleane and detestable rebels of Bacchus? Is mans heart able to deuise any thing so abho­minable, that you may not wel cōpre­hende it within the compasse of this your moste base and vile language? Why then what is that, which you can not expresse for bashfulnes? Doutlesse nothing: wherof it foloweth, that you are vtterly void of al shame, bash fulnes and honestie. For I can not tel how it cometh to passe, that the more a man vseth the companie and familiaritie of such men as you commende, the more [Page] shamelesse is his behauiour. But to the intent you may the better see, howe heinouse and wicked an offence you haue cōmitted against your owne self: I think it good to declare the original The ori­ginall and institutiō of mōkes.of the name and institutiō of Monkes.

There are two kind of men within the folde of Christes church. The one is of them, which liuing a cōmon life, cōtent them selues with the commen­dable exercise of meane vertue and godlines. The other is of such, as ende­uour them selfe to excell in the folo­wing of heauenly life and discipline. Now for so much as the ende, whiche euery Christian man ought to set be­fore his eyes, is the likenes of the per­fection and iustice of God, the which they atteine muche sooner, which are prōpter and redier to behold the beau­tie of the wil of God: the which beau­tie no man can wel cōceiue in his hart, so long as he is as it were tied downe with the bandes of streight frindship and familiaritie of the bodie: it came to [Page 64] passe, that suche as had an earnst and feruent desire to ioyne them selues vn­to God, called away their mindes (as much as was possible) from the famili­ar acqueintance of the body, to the in­tent they mighte the better fasten the eyes of their hearts in the cleerenes of God. These are they, which (as our Lord saith) haue ghelded them selues for the loue and earnest desire of the kingdome of heauen. For the plea­sure of the bodie weyeth downe the heart euen to the earth, and with her importunitie carieth away the minde from the contēplation of the brightnes of God. The which thing is so true, H [...]b. 13. a.that, although Mariage be honorable, and the bed vndefiled, and he that de­fraudeth his wise of the right of Mari­age, committeth no small sinne, yet it is sometimes necessarie for suche as do minde to receiue this cleerenesse of God within them selues to absteine from their owne wiues.

[Page] Exod. 19. c For this cause Moyses, before he re­ceiued the law, gaue commaundemēt to al men, to absteine from the compa­nie of their wiues, vntil God had geuē out the law. For this consideration S. Paule also, when he forbiddeth the husbandes to forsake the companie of 1. Cor. 7. atheir wiues, addeth this clause. except it be for a time to geaue your selues whollie to praier. In the which place the holie Apostle teacheth plainely that the verie lawful and holy compa­nie of man and wife, doth hinder the mind, that it can not so freely and spe­dily pearce the heauēs, and there talke familiarly with God. And therefore saieth he in the same Epistle, he that ioineth his virginitie in marriage, doth wel: and he that ioyneth not, doth bet­ter. The reason, whiche the Apostle geueth, why it were better for a maide to contine we vnmarried, is this. Bi­cause that, such as are entangled with the cares of marriage, are oftentimes [Page 41] caried a waie from the remembrāce of heauenly thinges. But such as are free from mariage, are troubled with none other care, but how to please God. And, the single woman, saith S. Paule, thinketh vpon the thinges that apper­teine vnto God: how she may be holly in bodie and in soule. And a few lines after, he setteth before our eyes, the goodli fruit of this most holy freedom, which is, a libertie to praie vnto God at all times without any impediment or lette. That this so great a gifte, and benefitte ought to be ascribed, not to the merite of man, but to the mercie of God, our Lorde him selfe decla­reth, saying. Euerie man receiueth Mat. 19. bnot this word, but they only to whom it is geauen. Whereby it is manifest, that, suche as doe so conquere the ty­ranny of fleshly pleasure, that they are able to continue their lyfe in chastitie, they dooe it by a singular benefitte of God, and for that cause are most wor­thie [Page] of honoure and reuerence.

But you wil saie peraduenture, that I spend muche talke in thinges too wel knowen, and not necessarie. They are, I graunte you, thinges verie well knowen, and thoroughly debated in the writinges of holie menne. But that they are nothing necessarie, then maie you geue iudgement, when you shall perfectly vnderstande, that they are impertinēt to those matters, which I haue taken vpon me to treate of.

Whereas therefore in the Primitiue Churche, the greatest parte of men that became Christians, liued vpright­ly and godly, but yet so, that they dif­ferred little from the common lyfe of men: there was no smal number which were inflamed with most ernest desire of the greater dignitie and higher per­fection. Nowe these (being there vnto moued by the spirit and grace of God) fearing lest the luste of the bodie, and care thereof, might be some hinderāce [Page 66] vnto them, and hoping withal that thei shuld more manfully vanquish the sen­suality of the flesh, absteined thē selues frō mariage: to thentent that although their bodies walked vp and downe in the earth, yet their minds ād thoughts might be cōuersant with God in heauē. The which thing that they might the more cōmodiously bring to passe, they separated themselues frō the company and cōuersation of men, and with one accord pitched in one place: that ther might be made of al their mindes, one sure and perfecte agreemente of heart and will. And the order that was ta­ken in the beginninge at Hierusalem, that no man shoulde haue any posses­sion seuerall to him, (whiche coulde not be long kept of all, for the greate multitude of men) was of these men restored and putte in vre againe. Their lyfe was nothing elles, but on­lie a perpetual warre against the bodily pleasures and sinne; with an earnest [Page] and continual meditation of heauenlie thinges. Their bodie therefore they subdued with fasting, watching and la­bour: but their mindes they stirred vp to behold the bewtie and brightnes of God by prayers and spiritual songes, hymnes and meditation of godly mat­ters. Hereof proceded that most fer­uent flame of loue: hereof came that earnest desire to folow godlines and vertue: hereof arose the ioyning of mans wil with the wil of God: hereof sprang a certaine cleere and bright sonneshine in the sowle of man: finally hereof issued that knot or coniunction with God, then the whiche mannes hart is able to y magin no thing streigh­ter or faster.

These men were at the first called in greeke Monkes, that is to say, solita­rie liuers: not so much bicause they haunted desert places, as bicause they forsoke and despised al wordly things, and were knitte with a most streight [Page 43] band of loue vnto God al only, accor­ding to the saying of Dauid. It is good Psal. 72. dfor me to cleaue vnto God. And S. Paul saith in like manner. He that cle▪ 1. Cor. 6. dueth vnto God, is one spirit with God, These monkes therfor, which I fpeak [...] of, that they might the better att [...]in [...] vnto a state, in the whiche no man might disquiet or pul them away from this coniunction of the spirite of God: tooke such ordre of life, as I haue here declared. S. Diony sius of Areopagus whom I esteeme, after the Apostles, as prince of al Diuines, doth not only ex­pound the name of a Monke after this sort, but declareth also▪ what ceremo­nie the Bishops vsed at the professing of monkes. This name of a monke hath ben sometimes in great reuerence and estimation: and howses were builded for them to dwell in, the whiche, as Philo writeth, were at the first called Monasteries. There were also many virgins inflamed with the loue of God, [Page] the which subdewing the sensual plea­sure of the bodie, taming the affecti­ons of the mind, despising the richesse of the world: gaue themselues wholly to the seruice of Christ: and the bet­ter to bring their purpose to good ef­fecte, thei came together in one place, where they liued alwayes in the con­templation of God. S. Basile a very holie and great learned man, after ma­ny yeares drewe out a rule in writing for Monkes, to the ende they should no more alter and chaunge their dis­cipline, but be well setled and bound alwaies to one vniforme fasshion of re­ligion. His Epistles are yet extante, in the whiche he doth moste grauelie confute the slaunderouse talke of cer­taine lewde felowes, the which mis­liked his doinges herein. For the worlde was neuer, nor is nowe, nor neuer shall be without some feedmen and seruitors of Satans retinew, which endeuoure them selues to vndoe the [Page 68] Decrees and ordinaunces of holy men. This life of Monkes how highly doth Chrysostome comme [...]d it? With how greate woordes doth Augustine bring men in admiration of it? How often, how grauely, how eloquently doth S. Hierome set out the excellencie of it? Who did not only cōmend it in words, but also folowed him self that trade of life, and liued and died in the company of Monks. And so did Gregorie of Na­zianzen, the most worthy piller of Di­uinitie, the goodly paterne of vertue and eloquence. What should I here re­herse al other men, that haue excelled in learning and holines? Was ther euer any vertuouse and perfect man in the world, which gaue not exceding great commendation to the rule and life of Monks? Truth it is, that the ernest loue of this perfect religion hath ben slaked and quenched (as it happeneth) diuers times: but there neuer lacked holie men to stir it vp and kendle it againe. [Page] from thence came that wōderful good Father Benet, from thence came Ber­nard and Brunus, and after them Fran­cis and Dominike, the whiche did not only set an order in the life of Monks, but also with most earnest and feruent desire, laboured to reforme the church of Priestes which was very slacke and negligent. How many Martyrs came from thence? How many Writers? How many excellent men in al kinde of vertues? For if there was any thing in the Church in their time, that tended either to example of excellent vertue, or to a rule of high wisedome, al that may we thanke the Monkes of: or (to speake better) thanke Christ him selfe, which stirred the hartes and mindes of Monkes to follow such a goodly disci­pline of vertue and wisedome.

But, to abridge this our discourse, be­ing now made plaine, that there were euen in the Primitiue Churche, two kind of Christians: the one which con­tēting [Page 45] them selues with meane doings, liued a cōmon life without crime: the other, which tending to heauen warde with greater feruēcie, withdrew their minds from the familiariti of the body, and them selues from al resort of men, and cōsecrated their whole life, to the seruice and loue of Christ: being also euidently proued, that this life of per­fection farre passeth the other cōmon life: surely it is veri manifest, how great honour and reuerence men ought to haue borne to those houses of Virgins and Monkes. For they were in this kinde of life, which is more noble and excellent, yea and commeth farre nee­rer to the nature and likenesse of An­gelles, as it were common Scholes or working howses of heauenlie vertue, and cleane lif [...]. This is that, that indu­ced manie Christian Princes most ver­tuous and godly men, to build Mona­steries, and to endew them with pos­sessions, by the whiche the Virgins [Page] and monkes might liue and serue God continuallie. When this was donne, those princes were for victories most renowmed, for chiualrie and feates of armes most honorable, and their coun­treis excellently wel gouerned. But nowe we see in many places where men do basely swarue from the godli­nes of their auncetours, that it cometh farre otherwise to passe. For with in­creasing of rentes and reuenewes cō ­tendeth nedines: with the multitude of men, dishonesty: with pride, the weak­nes of the whole cōmon weale: finally with the shew of holines impudently faced and borne out, sacrilege.

But you wil saye, that this kinde of monks are al decaied and worne away. Not emong vs, I assure you. For sence the Kinges of Spaigne haue bent them selues earnestly towards the reforma­tion of religion: there is found so great religion and godlines in diuers Mo­nasteries, that manie younge men of [Page 70] the nobility brought vp in great welth, standing in good hope of muche wor­ship and honour in the cōmon weale, being inflamed with the loue of suche wōderful vertue as they see with their eyes, doe forsake richesse, despise ho­nour, reiecte pleasures, litle regard the teares of their parents, and flie for suc­cour into some holy cōpanie of monks, as it were from the stormy tempest of filthie vice, into the quiet hauen of cleane life. In like maner many virgins of excellent bewtie and comely beha­uiour, being sewed vnto for marriage of diuerse yong men of the Nobilitie, haue forsaken al the allurements of this life, that they might in the company of holie virgins much more pleasantly so­lace them selues in the spirituall and sweet familiarity of Christ.

But you will saye peraduenture, that these exaumples of greate ver­tue, are verie fewe in comparison of them, that are thrust into Monasteries [Page] against their wil and repining at it. And no meruaile. For why, in euerie kind, looke what is excellente, is also rare. Then whereas you talke of violence vsed in putting the Virgins into Mona­steries, it was neuer permitted by any Lawe, nor yet allowed of wise men, and the holie Councell of Trent hath from hence foorth vtterlie forbidde it, and therfore it is now no more vsed.

But what fruicte and commoditie haue these Virgins by this kind of life? Doubtlesse such as can not in wordes be expressed. For manie of them are so inflamed in spirit, that they are som­times taken quite awaie from their bo­dies, and lifted vp into heauen, where in the contemplation of the goodnes of God they reioyse excedingly, and beholding the bewtie and brightnes of God (so much as they may) are asto­nished, yea so much that somtimes thei are besides them selues. I haue good acquaintāce my selfe with a Monke, a [Page 47] simple and plaine man, the whiche, so often as mentiō is made of the loue of God, his senses failing him, he falleth v­pon the grownd, and yet in the meane time, his memorie is fresh, and is in cō ­templation of heauenlie and godlie thinges. It were an infinite matter, if I wold reherse, how manie holie men I haue seene in those companies which you laugh to scorne, and howe manie virgins I haue talked withal, which are wonderful for religion and holines.

If these thinges be true (as they are most true) why haue you taken away this so excellēt an example of religiō? Whie haue you defaced so wonderful a rule of chastitie and cleane life, in the which is conteined that, that is in the religiō of Christ the highest perfectiō, and (as I said before) most of all to be esteemed? whie haue you violētly and furiously rushed into those holy how­ses to abolish vtterly out of the worlde the very remēbrance of perpetual chastity? [Page] Oh, say you, they liued not after the rule of S. Basil. I graūt you, for emō ­gest vs also somtime, the Nūnes forget­ting their duety, waxed somwhat wanton, and some Monkes also liued very disordredly: howbeit the most holy or­der and disciplin was not for that cause vtterly taken away and ouerthrowen. Neither are the members of the body, which may be healed, so sone as they fal into any disease, forth with to be cut of. What? Thinke you it wel done, for a smal blemish or eyesore to grubbe vp the whole order by the root? Were it not better, wene you to bring the mē ­bers, that are diseased, to their naturall strēgth again? If you had vsed the same medicine, as our Prīces did: why might not the cōmendable vertues of chastity and holines haue florished emōgst you, as thei do with vs? But it was neuer no part of your thought. Neither did rea­son moue you to doe well, but hatred and couetousnes pricked you forward to mischiefe.

[Page 72] Nowe as touching the Pharisaicall continuance of praiers (for so it liketh you to terme the continual exercise in the Diuine seruice of God) this much I answere. If the defence of Religion do confist in vnreasonable and reprochful woordes, then are you to to muche to good for vs. For you haue had in that honest faculty, an excellent scholema­ster called Luther, from whom proce­ded al these termes, Pharisee, hypocrit, Papist, and such other (which I do let passe as wordes not meet to be spoken of any honest and bashfull man) with the which he reuiled holy men. And yet you to mainteine one mischiefe by an other, to defende Sacrilege with a heape of slaunders and false witnesse, you saie, that the disorder of Monkes in their Celles, and of Nunnes in their Cloisters was so great, that they might well be compared with the reuelles of Bacchus. Howe then haue you left such heinous offences vnpunished? [Page] Wherefore did you not suppresse such fowle and horrible vices with moste extreme and sharpe punishmentes? Wherefore did you not procede with al seueritie and rigor against such de­testable conueticles (for so you ful vn­reuerently cal them) wherfore did you not make them exāples to the worlde, lest the libertie of vnbridled and filthy pleasure might ouerflow your coūtrei to the vtter▪ vndoing of your common weale? Are you so rechlesse and negli­gent in the gouernemēt of your realm, that you thought it meete to appoint no punishmēt at al for that most dete­stable shop (as you cal it) of filthie vice? Wil you in that Iland, in the which a Queene (whome the king loued ve­rie well for her beawtie, witte, and courtelie behauiour) for the onelie suspicion of a great deale lighter of­fence then this is, was by the sentence of the iudges, at the commaunde­ment of the King him selfe her hous­bande, [Page 73] openlie in the face of the world, by the hand of a hangman ex­ecuted and beheaded: wil you, I saie, in that Iland suffer such heinouse of­fences, as are not to be named, to es­cape vnpunished, yea ād that in a kind of men, which are not only contemp­tible and abiecte, but also odious and hateful? It is not like.

Moreouer, this feate of pulling downe monasteries beganne not emō ­gest you, but you had it from other menne. For Carolstadius and Luther and other the head Sectaries attemp­ted this goodlie enterprise firste of al: so that you maie not robbe them of the honour thereof, and take it to your selfe. It was not therefore the hatred of vncleane pleasure, but the example of these noble personages set out as a rule in this your new disci­pline and Religion, that stirred your mindes to the ouerthrowe of perpe­tual chastitie. Besides this, the grea­uous [Page] displeasure you had conceiued against the Bishoppe of Rome for en­termedling and geauing sentence a­gainst you: the casting of your eyes vpon the goods and possessions, with the whiche the Mounkes liued: the flatterie of certaine naughtie and des­perate fellowes: the fonde pleasure and appetite to make alterations and chaunges, helped the matter wel for­warde. In olde tyme emongest the Romaines (whiche were men vtter­ly void of the light and knowledge of God) the Virgins of Vesta were had in such estimation, that euerie man did geaue them the waie, the place, and seate, with verie great reuerence. And you haue disteined the Virgins of Christe with a notorious and per­petuall infamie. Those Virgins, bi­cause they mainteined the fier of Ve­sta, the citezins did not onely honour and attende vpon religiously, but al­so reuerenced their iudgementes: and [Page 74] you haue not suffered the holie vir­gins of Christe to keepe their virgini­tie solemly vowed, to maintaine the euerlasting fier of heauenlie loue in their heartes enkendled. It was law­ful for those Virgins to marrie after thirtie yeares, and yet of their owne accord they did absteine from mar­riage: you haue maried the virgins of Christ, to whome it was in al ages vn­lawful, to filthie ribaudes. Those vir­gins, if they were at anie tyme by intisement deflowred, they were bu­ried aliue and so ended their life with a horrible kinde of death: and you haue taken them, whiche were dis­honested (as you saie) with mosto vile brothelrie, and haue for punish­ment of so great a vice pleasauntly re­warded them with sporting and da­liaunce. And yet you say.

Wherefore God hath stirred the harts of our men, that these so great bāds or cō ­panies, which laie lurking in blind stīking [Page] corners, were through their godlie ex­hortations called foorth, from idlenes to labour, from vice to vertue, from wic­ked brothelrie to most honest marriage. You say, God hath stirred the heartes of our men. I would faine learne of you, what God that was. for there are manie, as S▪ Paule saith, that are called Goddes. For to some men the bellie is a God: to some other monie is a God: yea and to some riot and ruf­fling and hawtines is a God. I would therefore faine knowe, what God that was, that put it into the heartes of your menne, to abolishe and rake vp in the earth the loue of most ho­lie and perpetuall chastitie. Was it Bacchus, or Cupide, or Mercurie? For of Christ the sonne of God, who is verie muche delyted in perpetuall chastitie and cleane life, I am right wel assured, that he neuer moued you to any such heinouse acte.

The idlenes, which you speake of, [Page 75] was not a fruteles sitting stil, void of al holie workes, but it was a continuall exercise in the contemplation of god­lie thinges.

As touching the most filthie bro­thelrie (as you cal it) you are in one sentence conuinced both of a lie, and of impudencie withall. For, if there had benne anie suche offence com­mitted of them, you woulde not haue suffered it vnpounished. And then howe impudent and shamelesse you be, the forging of so filthie a crime doth plainelie declare. It is not therefore true that you saie, that your doinges stande well with the profitte of the common weale. But contrariewise you haue bv violence and authoritie drawen out those ban­des or companies (as you cal them) from holie quietnes to a busines defi­led with wicked sacrilege: from the exercise of godlines, to the liber­tie of vice: from the discipline of per­petuall [Page] continencie to the bondage of moste vncleane voluptuousnesse. Howe be it by this, I doe not excuse your Religiouse menne. For it had ben muche better for them to suffer intolerable paines, yea and to let their lyues in tormentes, then to forsake their Faith, whiche they haue openly professed to Christe. For if they had withstood your warninges and coun­sell, your threates and authoritie with good courage and constante heartes, dowbtelesse they had died an honou­rable death for the glorie of Christe. For you are wont to punnish extreme­lie th [...] chaste and cleane lyfe: but fil­thie and vile brothelrie, as you con­fesse your selfe, you are wonte mer­cifullie to pardonne. The Carthusi­ans▪, moste chaste and holie Fathers, you put to death: but those most wic­ked bandes and companies, as you terme them, you called foorth to be [Page 76] married, and to liue in pleasure. Wherefore there is no dowbt, but that, if your Mounkes had liued af­ter S. Basiles rule, they had benne dispatched emongest you euerie one. And yet you glorie that by this your so goodlie an acte you are restored againe to libertie. As thoughe you vnderstoode, what thinge true li­bertie were. But of that we shall see hereafter. Nowe before I enter into that discourse, I wilbe so bolde as to demaunde of you one que­stion.

This libertie of the gospell, whiche you haue alwaies in your mowth, doth it take place in all thinges, so, that it maie be lawfull for euerie man at al tymes to do what him listeth? Or els is it limited by some certaine rule of lawe and reason? As for example in Matrimonie. Shall it be laweful for the husband to put awaye his wife for euerie cause that hym lysteth [Page] to alleage? No without doubte. For the euerlasting law of the Gospell will not beare it. I [...] then the band of Matri­monie beinge once knitte by the mu­tuall consent of man and wife▪ can not be dissolued: by what meanes, I praie you, may that bande, with the which Virgins are willingly consecrated vn­to Christe with sol [...]mne ceremonies, and faithful promise, be broken by the presumption of menne, without great 1. Tim. 3. band heinouse offence? S. Paule com­maunded Timothee to auoide yonge widowes. For when they haue liued rioteouslie, saieth he, to the reproche of Christe, they will marrie. What then? Is it not lawefull for widowes to marrie? Doubtlesse it is lawfull.

For the same S. Paule saieth. If her 1. Cor. 7. ghusbande be a sleape, shee is free from the lawe of her husbande. Shee may marrie to whome shee will, onely in our Lorde.

If then it be lawful for Widowes to [Page 77] marrie without sinne, what is the matter that S. Paule findeth faulte with these widowes, bicause they would marrie? for he addeth, that they haue their dā ­natiō. Whie so I praie you? what haue 1. Tim. 5. b.th [...]y donne? what offence haue they cōmitted? Bicause they haue, saith he, broken their first faith. what faith I be­seke you? Expound the meaning of S. Paule, if you can. What manner of pro­mise was this, whiche the Widowes haue broken with none other offence, but bicause they would haue married. Is it the promise, which they made to their housbandes, that they would ne­uer spot the bed of wedlocke with ad­ulterie? No. For of that promise they were quite discharged by the death of their housbandes. Whie then it folo­weth, that this promise was not made to anie man, but to the sonne of God, that they shoulde keepe th [...] chastitie both of bodie and mind perpetually to his glorie. The whiche promise when [Page] they had decreed to breake, they did a greuous reproche, not to men, but to Christ him selfe. And therfore it see­med to the Apostle, that they had de­serued, (as being condemned for the offence of a most wicked adultery) not to be receiued into the cōpany of chast widowes, but rather to be forebidden to enter into the church. And that you maie the more meruaile at it, note, that S. Paule saied not, that those wi­dowes after the first mariage had mar­ried to other mē cōtrarie to their pro­mise made, but onely that they would haue married: wherby it is geauen vs to vnderstand, that this religious pro­mise is most wickedly and heinously broken by the onlie will and desire to be married againe. It was therfore law­ful for widowes to marrie, before they had promised and cōsecrated their chastitie vnto Christe, but after the time that the promise was past, it was no more lawful. Now then sir: Think you that the offence of the Virgins is anie [Page 78] thing lesse, which haue not only a de­sire to marrie, but doe marrie in deede to the great reproch of Christ? Doubt­lesse it is farre greater: by so much as, it is a more wicked offence for an vnde­filed virgin to plaie the harlot to the dishonour of Christe, then not to kepe the chastitie of a bodie, whiche is not vntowched. How long then lasteth this libertie? So long as it is in our free choise, to take what way we wil. But when we haue once either yoked our selues in matrimonie, or els offered vp our bodies by vow to serue God in re­ligiō: as it is not laeful to break the pro­mise of matrimony, so is it not lauful to violate the sacramēt of perpetual cha­stitie. And who so euer presumeth to doe it, cōmitteth a most wicked crime, that deserueth the iudgemēt and ven­geance of God. He that hath cōstantly 1. Cor. 7. g.determined in his heart, saith S. Paule, hauing no cōstreint, but hauing power ouer his owne wil, and hath aduisedly [Page] determined in his hart to kepe his vir­gin, doth wel. He laieth no necessi­tie at al vpon vs: but by his authoritie approueth the wil of that man, which weying and considering the matter wel, and taking withall the will of the virgin (for otherwise it maie not be) dedicateth the said virgin vnto Christe, which he kepeth vnder his rule and power. But after the virgin hath once bound her selfe with the vowe of per­petual chastitie, S Paule saieth not, that she is at her choise to marrie if she wil. For if he should so saie, he should speke verie muche against him selfe. But al these thinges are verie easily confuted in the opinion of such as are addicted to Luther. For it is not lawful, say thei, for any man to bind him selfe by vowe to that religion, which he is not able to kepe. And to resist the tyrannie of fleshlie lust, they saie, is graunted to no man. This is the talke of a mā not only incōtinent and dissolute, but also wic­kedly [Page 79] bent against God. For he distru­steth the goodnes and power of God, and measureth the strength of vertue and continencie, not by the almighti­nes and power of God, but by his own weakenes and filthie appetit. And this is the propertie of al naughty felowes, by their owne beastly life to iudge the conuersation of other men. Nero was fully perswaded, that al men were as euil as him selfe, but that their vnbrid­led lust was restrained by the lacke of thinges, that it could not breake out at al times into deedes. And this opinion causeth, that when vicious men heare tel of anie man or woman that is verie continent, they doe not only not be­leeue it, but they wil deuise oftētimes some infamous crime to burden him withal. I graunt you thus muche, that neither Luther, nor Bucer, nor Zwin­glius, nor Occolampadius, nor Caluin, nor your Martyr him selfe was able to susteine the assault of the flesh. For the [Page] heauenly gifte of perpetual chastitie, is iustly denied to al suche, as haue most wickedly diuided them selues from the church. But vnto such as are with­in the boundes of holy Churche, and are desirous to be ioyned with most feruent loue to Christ the chiefe and principal worker of honestie and holi­nes, for so much as they are fensed on euerie side with the strong bulwarke of God, it is very easie to put fleshlie pleasure to flight, to pul vp the verie strings and rootes of al vncleane vice. Otherwise S. Paule had neuer geanen counsel to virgins to continew in the 1. Cor. 7. bstate of virginitie: he had neuer said, that they were farre happiest of al o­ther, that folowed the cleanes of his life: he had neuer condēned widowes, only for that they had a wil, to be mar­ried 1. Tim. 5. b [...]. Cor. 7. gcontrary to their promise: he had neuer preferred the state of Virgins before widowhod: no our Lord him selfe had neuer approued that kind of [Page 80] geldinges, whiche haue gelded them Math. 1 [...]. b.selues for the kingdom of heauen. And yet wil you here lament (like a Popu­lar felowe, a restorer of libertie) the wretched bōdage of those virgins that desire to serue Christ more painfully and more chastly, then you doe. You are altogether ignorāt, what libertie is, which doe condemne the most excel­lent kind of liberty, calling it bondage. For if it be true libertie to doe, what fleshlie lust cōmaundeth, what naugh­tines forceth, what wrathfulnes mo­ueth, what hatred perswadeth, what the mad rage of a wilful and headlong mind driueth a man to deuise and doe: then I graunt you, that they are bond­men, which haue crucified their affe­ctions, and haue fastened them selues with such streight bandes vnto Christ, that they can not be tossed to and fro with the swaie ofpestilēt and filthy lu­stes. But if libertie be a power of that True li­bertie▪part of the minde, which hath the rule [Page] and gouernment, and tendeth to come to that end, to the which both the ex­cellēcie of natural inclination, and al­so the likenes of God in the mind cal­leth it: I would learne of you, whome you thinke to be more free: that wo­man, that being, as it were, pulled in sunder with a thowsand diuers busi­nes, serueth alwaies with great care her husband, her children, and her fa­milie: or her, that being discharged of al these troubles, casteth her selfe downe at the feete of Christ, and hath no more but one onely care, how she may at al times singularly wel please Christ her heauenly spouse. That wo­man, whome the force of pleasure be­ing by law permitted, yea and of dew­tie required, constreineth oftentimes to forget heauenly thinges▪ or her, whome no force of pleasure is able (so long as she is bound vnto Christe) to hinder from the cōtemplation of God. Finally, that woman, who is thorough [Page 81] the loue of her husband drawen two waies, or her, which hath set her whol loue vpon the beawtie of Christ. Who can denie, but that liberty is then geuē to the mind in dede, when reason bea­reth rule in all the state of the minde? Whervpō it foloweth, that where rea­son keepeth downe the fleshlie lustes most, ther is the mind freest. Wherfore it must needes be, that the frutefull li­bertie whiche you haue vnseasonably brought foorth for holie Virgins and Monkes, against all right and reason, against the holie order of Christian re­ligion, is no libertie at al, but a detesta­ble and pitiful bondage. We haue ben somewhat long in the confirmatiō of this part, bicause I sawe, that vpon this l [...]wd point was laied the verie foun­datiō and growndworke of al Luthers most pestilent doctrine. For this holi [...] chaplain of Venus (I meane not Venus of Cyprus nor Paphos, nor Ericine, but Venus the Regēt of hel) when he had [Page] most filthylie spotted him selfe with leacherie and ribawdrie, he thought that not vnough, but vsed violent per­swasions with so manie as were of his re [...]new, to doe the like. And as we reade in Euripedes, that Venus tooke great displesure, bicause she was despi­s [...]d of Hippolitus, and therfore deuised craftily, to sende certaine monstruous seacalues out of the sea, to gallowe his chariot horses by the whiche traine Hippolitus was for the onlie loue of chastitie, torne al in peeces and cruelly slaine: euen so hath this hellish Venus pricked foreward Luther and Carol­stadius, and the reste of these horrible monsters, not against anie one chaste man, but against chastitie it selfe, mea­ning by them vtte [...]l [...] to abolish out of the worlde that heauenly example of chastitie, of honestie, and of virginitie.

Moreouer ther was a b [...]tter hatred cōceiued against the Bishop of Rome, whose state Luther ymagined might [Page 82] by this goodlie pollicie be verie much weakened.

Last of al Luther, according to the diuels physick (who vseth to cure one euel disease with an other woorse) de­uised to heale the infamie of inconti­nencie with impietie and misbeleefe: to thintent that, when he had perswa­ded al such as folowed him, that it was not only lawful and honest, but also that very dewtie and godlines, [...]ea and necessitie it selfe required, that al Nun­nes and Mōkes should be maried, there should no man be able to blame him for his incontinent and vicious liuing. The verie same trade and waie haue you takē, folowing the steppes of your maister, to abolish al good affection to­wardes perpetual chastitie: and now, that, that was verie vngodly and hei­nously done, you defende it to be done, for godlie and iust causes. To slide and fall procedeth of the weake­nes of man, and to continewe in anie [Page] vice il begonne, is an argument of an vnbridled mind and vnrulie affection: But to reioise and glorie in wickednes, and to geue the name of honestie and godlines to most filthie vices, is so pre­sumptuous and horrible offence, that it cā not by wordes be expressed. And yet bicause I did in my letters but only lament this so great a ruine and decaie of religiō, you laie out against me with open mowth. And yet you make out­cries, and in so doing you woulde be taken for an ernest and vehemēt man. And yet you wold beare men in hād, that the thinges that you haue done for hatred, malice and rashnes, were done charitably, prouidently, and adui­sedly. You saie.

Out vpon this ouer malepart and licē ­tiouse desire, which you haue to peruert all thinges. I saie on the other side. Out vpō your barbarous and crewel bold­nes. Out vpon your intolerable impu­dēcie. Out vpō your most wicked and [Page 83] deuilish practises, deuised and wronght by the labour, studie, and diligence of Satan. What rage hath so driuen you, what madnes hath so stirred you, that you durst set vpon so wicked an en­terprise? For you haue made open warres against honestie and chastitie: you haue furiously brokē into the holy Monasteries: you haue ouerthrowen bashfulnes, honestie, and continencie: you haue chased awaie that most ex­cellent loue of perpetual virginitie: you haue geuen the goods of religions personnes to whome you listed: and now, when you triumph at the fall of chastitie and Religion, you so vaun [...] your selues in it, as though you had by this noble victorie, gotten euerlasting fame and honour.

Image [...]. Now foloweth the disputation of the pulling downe of Images, whiche you like verie well, and are offended with me, bicause I should saie, that when the images are takē awaie, there [Page] is nothing left, wherby the mind might be stirred vppe to thinke vpon godlie thinges. The which I neuer spake. For there are manie other thinges, whiche you haue ouerthrowen together with the ymages, that moue our mindes more vehemently then they doe. But this much I saied: For so much as Ima­ges are verie good and effectuall to bring al men, especially▪ the vnlearned, to the remembraunce of the wonder­ful vertue, which shone sometimes in the holy Saintes and it were expediēt that the benefit of Christ should be re­presented vnto vs by al signes, in al pla­ces: it was wickedly done of them; that pulled downe Crosses and Images. For we doe neither praie, nor offer, nor sa­crifice vnto them: but we are by them put in remembraunce of those thinges that are of dew to be worshipped. It is, saie you, against the expresse commaun­d [...]ment of God. I would your doctours would instructe you better in Diui­nitie, [Page 84] that you might no more babble out such childi [...]h toyes. Tell me, I praie you, haue you neuer read, that there were in the tabernacle of God, Images of Cherubines set before the Arke of promise? The vele, whiche [...]xod. 25. b.diuided the inner part from the reste of the tabernacle, was is not wrought betwene, with manie Images of Che­rubines? Numer. 2 [...]. b.Was there not made the Image of a Serpent in brasse by the commaundement of God in the wil­dernes, vpon the whiche, suche as were bitten of serpentes, looked, and were healed? What Images then hath God forbidden to be made? Those Images without dowbte, by the whiche men blinded with synne went abowte to expresse a thinge, that can neither be deuised, nor painted, nor engrauen, nor expressed wyth woordes, nor conceiued with the heare, that is, the infinite Maiestie of God. Besides this, there was greate [Page] daunger, lest the people being now acqueinted with the manners of the Aegiptians, being also abowt to goe into a land, which was infected with the selfe same errours, might through familiaritie and neighbourhood of these vngodlie nations, fall into the like errour, and offer vp sacrifice vnto goddes made of stockes and stones: or at the least make the ymages of some naughty and vile men, and set them vp in the place of God. The feare of this daunger caused manie thinges to be taken quite awaie, which had ben o­therwise lawfull and tolerated. The ymage of the brasen serpent was dili­gently kept, as a goodlie monument of the benefite of God, and singular sa­crament of the saluation to come. But after manie yeares, when the people were come to such madnes, that they thought there had benne some diui­nitie in the ymage, and therfore offe­red sacrifice vnto it: it was by the [Page 85] holie King Ezechias broken and made 4. Reg. 18. a.into powder. Shew you now, that we doe goe about to expresse the nature of God by signes, or that we thinke that ther is anie godhead in dome ima­ges, and then may you wel conuince vs of blindnesse and folie. So long as you doe not this, there is no cause, whie you should feare the dotage of idolatrie (as you terme it) or laie blind­nesse to our charge with such [...] mon­struous wordes. For we doe that, that is by right and reason ordeined, by the holie Churche approoued, by sen­tence of holy Fathers determined. The gospell, say you, commaundeth vs to ab­steine from Images. That is true. But what must we vnderstand to be or­deined by this commaundement? For sooth this, that no man should offer vp sacrifice to Images, or for anie pre­tense of religion, make as though he did follow the errour, that was in o­ther men. For the faithful men were [Page] not then commaunded to ouerthrow and breake their Images, but to for­sake the detestable Sacrifices. More­ouer, what Images were those? Of Iuppiter, Apollo, Minerua, Mars, and Mercurie, and other the like Goddes, which were thought of old time to be verie true goddes in deede. But we doe neither offer vp sacrifice vnto idols, neither doe we thinke the Images of vncleane and vicious men to be worthie of any reuerence in the world. You say afterward.

But this feare being taken awaie, yet must the doctrine of Christ haue ful au­thoritie [...]mongest Christian men: in the which it is plainlie said, that God is a spi­rite, and that the true order of praying to God is, to worship him in spirite and [...]rewth. Of like we know not that, M. Haddon, and therefore doe we make God like a man both in bodie and mā ­ners. Would God, you had learned, what it is to worship God in spirite, [Page 86] and then had you neuer fallē into such vngodly opinions. You say, that the true ordre of praying nedeth not these helpes of outward thinges. Although you and such as you are, hauing nowe waded so farre in the exercise of spi­ritual life, neede not these outwarde helpes, but may without them presse euen to the throne of God: yet should you remembre, that there are manie, that are not yet come to so high a de­gree of heauenlie perfection as you be, and therfore haue neede to be hol­pen by all meanes possible. Not so, saie you, but raither while our owt­warde man is to muche occupied in these shadowes of holie thinges, the feruencie of the minde waxeth colde within. Not so, M. Haddon, but rather while the minde waxeth colde within, it is, by these outwarde re­presentations of holie thinges, to be stirred vp, to remembre those thinges that were forgotten. for, as Dionysius [Page] teacheth vs, so long as we are inclosed within the frame of this bodie, and can not altogether withdrawe our minde from the acqueintance of the bodie, we are to be stirred vp nowe and then by bodilie Images to the re­membrance of the inuisible God. This not withstanding you goe fore warde, and saie.

Let vs put examples. The old Church of the Apostles and Martyrs had none of all these monumentes, and yet was their spirite moste earnestly inflamed with the loue of God. In the wane of [...]ure Religion pictures crope in by litle and litle, and so appalled in the heartes of men that former boyling heat of Reli­gion. Not so sir, but then were Images and pictures necessarie, to stirre vp a­gaine by almeanes the feruencie of re­ligion, which was, as you say, appalled. For so long as the Image of the Crosse was printed and engrauē in the hearts of all men, this multitude of Images [Page 87] was not so necessari [...]. But you doe much like, as if a man should say, that the remedies of diseases were the cau­ses of diseases. for the picture did not cause men to forgette holie thinges: but rather it was wisely deuised, that men might not forgette them. If the vse of Images quenched, as you saie, that feruēcie of spirit, with the which men were inflamed in the olde tyme: then must it needes folow, that, when Images were first ouerthrowē of you, you were by and by verie hote in spi­rite. Tel me therefore, if it please you: When you first brake downe the Ima­ges, tables and other monumentes of Saintes: when you defaced them, mā ­gled them, and dasshed them in a thou­sand peeces: when you burned the re­likes of the most holie Martyr S. Tho­mas: was there foorth with enkendled in you so great a heat as you speake of? were you by and by wholly inflamed with fier from heauen? I beleeue there [Page] fell from aboue, not onely fierie ton­gues, but also fierie heartes and bow­elles, the heate and flames whereof wrought with you so extremely, that you are not able by any meanes to a­bide this straūge force of loue, which burneth within you. Neither do you now liue vpon the earth, but in hearte and mind you are in heauen. For euen as vpon the ouerthrow of the autho­ritie of the bishop of Rome, ther arose out of hand a new sonne emōgest you: so must it nedes folow, that vpon the pulling downe of Images, vppon the breaking of the monumentes of Christ crucified, vpon the digging vp of the graue of the holy Martyr, and burning of his bones: you cōceiued foorth with such a fier of heauenly loue in your bowelles, that there is nothing in the world to be seene in your heartes, but only that same hoat and sierie loue of God. If it be so, I commend the vehe­mencie of your spirite, I allowe your [Page 88] doing, I thinke, this worthie acte of yours deserueth immortall fame and honour. for what so euer quencheth the feruencie of the spirite, what so e­uer doth any thing breake or weaken the force of loue, it would be put back with the whole bent of the hart. Nei­ther ought we to beare anie thing in the world, that might cause a dulnes or slakenes in the minde. But if it be nothing so, if, after the breaking downe and defacing of the goodlie monumentes of vertue, you were not inflamed by and by with fier from heauen: then it is most euident, that the Images and reliques of holie men buried vnder the grownde, did no­thing hinder you from that feruent loue of God. Whie then, what (the diuell) madnes came into your heads, that you should be so earnestly bent to make a waste and spoile of thinges, whereof you could take no commo­ditie in the worlde?

[Page] At the length, you speake verie ear­nestly (as you doe often) against the di­uinitie of the schoole doctours, wher­in I can not much blame you: for you haue good cause to be offended with them, whose whole drifte both of mindes and disputation is altogether against you. For they haue receiued a pure and true Doctrine from holie men: you haue taken a pudlie and stin­king doctrine of most wicked persons. They are bound to the verie auncient Religion, that was deliuered from the Apostles: you falling from the aun­cient religion, are wickedly flitted to this new fangled secte. They, for the most part of them, doe worship Christ with honest conuersation and vpright cōscience: but you haue done and spo­ken manie thinges verie impudentlie and rashly, to the reproche and disho­nour of Christ. Nowe whereas you impute the cause of Images to them, you shew your selfe to be not only ve­ry [Page 89] shamelesse, but also very witlesse. [...]or you doe not accompt emongest the schoole Doctours Cyrillus or Athana­sius, or Ierome, or Ambrose, or Augu­stine. Whome then? Dowbtlesse such as folowed Petrus Lombardus, and be­ganne manie yeares after his tyme to expound openly in schooles his Sen­tences (as they cal them) gathered out of the bookes of the holie Fathers, and brought into one volume. Petrus Lō ­bardus flourished about the yeare of our Lord. 1141. And the second Coun­cel of Nice was kept in the yeare. 781. Neither was it firste decreed in that coūcel, that Images shuld be set vp, but that they should not be pulled down. And the herefie of such as would haue them to be ouerthrowen, was there condemned by the ful agreement of al the fathers. Of the which errour, as it appeared by the testimonials brought into the Councel, the firste brochers were certaine Manichees and Mar­cionistes. [Page] It was there declared at that time, by the authoritie of Basile, Gre­gorie of Nissa, Cyril, Ierom, Augustin, and by the custome receiued in the Church euen from the Apostles time: that the Images of Christ, of his most blessed Mother, and of other holie men had ben set vp, vpon a great good consideration, to call the mindes of men continually to remēbre the good­nes of God. In the selfe same Councel also, was read an oratiō of Athanasius, of a miracle, whiche was wrought at Berith a citie of Syria, when certaine Iewes pearced the Image of Christe with a speare. For out of the wound flowed out bloud, whervpō the Iewes were turned vnto Christe. And al­though in the Apostles time, suche si­gnes were nothing necessarie, and as then it was not lawful through the ty­rannie of Princes to builde Churches, and to bewtifie them with comely or­naments: yet doe the auncient monu­mentes [Page 90] declare, that euen at that time The I­mage of the Crosse. [...]there was some vse of Images. As for the Images of the Crosse, there is no doubt, for so much as the most aunciēt monumentes both of Aethiopia and India make mention of them.

In that part of India, which is with­in the riuers Indus and Ganges tow­ardes the east, there is a towne called Mailapur, and belongeth to the great kingdō of Narsingua, where the bodie of S. Thomas was buried. Ther, not many yeares ago, was digged out by the prouidēce of God a great Crosse made of stone: whose top and both sides, an arke hewen out of the same stone co­uered: wherein were engrauen letters of verie great antiquitie, whiche no man could reade but such as were ler­ned in the aunciēt letters of the Brac­mans. The meaning of the letters, as it was afterwardes founde, was a sto­rie of the death of S. Thomas: whiche declared, howe a holie man named [Page] Thomas, in the time of King Sangam ruler of those landes, was sent of the sonne of God to visite those coun­treis, and to bring the people vnto the knowledge of God: and how the en­nemies of religion crucified him vpon the same Crosse▪ And the Crosse euen at this daie is smeared with spottes of bloud.

Eusebius also writeth, that, in a ci­tie called Philips Cesarea, there was a brasen Image of Christ set vpō a foote, of a good heith, and before it an other Image of a woman▪ the whiche being sometime sicke of a bloudie fluxe, was cured by the benefit of our Lord. This Image was made in manner of a wo­man suppliaunt and holding vppe her handes vnto the Image of Christ. He declareth furthermore, that neere vn­to the [...]oote of the said Image there was wont to growe a certaine kind of herbe, the which when it was growē so high, that it touched the hemme of [Page 91] the garment of Christ, it conceiued a great vertue, and was verie soueraigne against diuers and sundrie diseases. The selfe same Eusebius reporteth, that he him selfe had seene the Images of the Apostles excellently wel painted, the which manner he cōmendeth highly.

It is also writen that Constantine the Emperour sawe in a vision Peter and Paule, whose Images when he be­held afterwarde, being shewed vnto him by Syluester the Pope, resembling in al pointes that, that he had seene, he was excedingly astoined.

What saie you M. Haddon? Are you not ashamed of your ignorance? It is euident, that there were Images set vp in places of common resort, euē in the times of holie men (which you graunt to be happie tymes) especially after it was lawful to buyld great and sumptuous Churches: it is euidēt, that they were misliked and resisted of ve­rie olde heretikes, and worthely main­teined [Page] by most excellent men both for holines and learning: finally it is euidēt that the second Councel of Nice ac­cursed and excōmunicated al suche as dyd condemne the Images of holie men, and the monumētes of Christ: and wil you vnaduisedly ascribe the cause, and original of them vnto the schoole­doctours, which beganne to dispute of diuinitie in schooles manie yeares, yea many hundred yeares after that tyme? what dulnes is this? what negligence? what ignorance of antiquitie? But to let passe your ignorance in stories, what maie be said of your vndiscreete boldnes in these your doinges? For whereas Images are so effectuall in bringing vs to the remembrance of thinges, that euē thei that reade bokes continually, that serue God with great feruencie, that may be brought to re­membre heauenly thinges by many o­ther monumentes, yet are they cheer­fully preuoked to the loue of godlines, [Page 92] by looking vpon the outward signes of heauēly thinges, and Images of ho­lie men: what came into your heades, to pul away frō the vnlearued people, which haue not so many staies to lean vnto, these healpes and succour of me­morie, these monumentes of perfecte religion? For (to passe ouer with silēce al other monumentes) where shal you find one emongest an hundred, that is not moued by looking vpō the Image of Christ nailed on the Crosse? that is not inwardly stirred to deuotiō by the remembrance of so great goodnes and mercie of God? that is not sometime wholly molten and resolued into teares? Wherefore then will you take awaie from the vnlearned and weake, this goodlie healpe, with the whiche, the learned them selues, yea and suche as are well hardened in the exercise of godlinesse, are oftentimes moued? Especially, for so much as you are neuer the feruenter in faith and [Page] charitie, after this your so honorable an enterprise, for the which you take so much vpon you.

But how wittily you conclude all this question with a twoforked argu­ment, saying, that our pictures, if the spirite be present, neede not: if it be absent, they boote not. Not so sir, but if the spirite be present, they doe no hurt, if it be absent, thei maie do much good. For what so euer reneweth in vs the remembrance of the goodnes and mercie of God, profitteth vs not a litle, and prepareth the waie verie wel to atteine to the grace of the spirite it selfe.

IN good faith I am a­shamed to vse so many wordes in the confu­tation of that your booke, for the which you stoode so muche in your owne conceite. But for so much as you haue hudled vp together so manie thinges in it, whiche I must nedes laie abrode ech thing by it selfe, I could not comprise so manie and so diuers pointes of vngodlines and he­resie in fewe wordes.

But to come vnto other matters, you meruaile, that I should lament in those my letters, that all holie thinges, ceremonies, godlie custumes, solemne feastes, and Sacramentes of Religion were vtterly decaied. You saie there­fore. What doe I heare? Is it like that [Page] there should liue anie kind of professours of Diuinitie in the Christian worlde, the which would vtterly abolish holy things, ceremonies, and all Sacramentes of the Churche? By these your wordes, M. Haddon, a man maie coniecture, that it were such a horrible acte to doe it, that the verie remembrance of it ma­keth you to tremble and quake. For you thinke it a thing impossible, that anie man (which is called by the name of a Christian) shoulde be so wicked and barbarous, so farre from true faith and religion, so spitefully bent against al godlines, that he would goe abowt to dishonest, to depraue, to corrupte and deface the solemne custumes of the Churche, the religious vsage of holie thinges, the inuiolable reuerence of ceremonies. Looke what you graūt vs we take it, and we thinke you to be worthie of no meane commenda­tion, bicause you thinke that their of­fence is not meane, which do despise [Page 94] auncient ceremonies. Otherwise you would not haue asked with a certaine admiration, whether there were anie kind of professours of Diuinitie in the Christian worlde, that would commit an offence so wicked and barbarous. And although you vsed craft, wheras you saied, that the ceremonies were not al ouerthrowen) as though it were no fault to take awaie some, and to re­taine some): yet I doubt not, but when it shal appeere euidētly, that the verie principal sacramentes haue ben quite ouerthrowē by such as beare the name of Christian men, it shal seeme euen to you a very horrible offence. You mer­uel (and not without cause) at the gret­nes of their heinouse act. But I meruail excedingly, not at the wicked acte of a sort of desperat felowes, but at the foly of a graue and wise mā. What say you? Are you only ignorāt in al Christendō, what hath ben done? Are you only a straūger and vnacqueinted in matters [Page] so notoriously well knowen? Heard you neuer saie, how Luther a passing holie man (as you thinke) hath geauen a prowd saie to plucke awaie al the sa­cramentes of the church? Neither can it be saied, that he keepeth the sacra­mētes, the which wickedly and lewd­ly appaireth the vertue and strength of them. If you neuer vnderstoode this, what saie you to that? heard you ne­uer tel, that Carolstadius, Zwinglius, Oecolampadius, and last of all your owne Martyr (to passe ouer a great nombre of others) did rent and teare the blessed Sacrament of the aulter with most vile and reprochful wordes? It is like you neuer heard of it. For how had it ben possible, that M. Had­don a chast and vpright man, a mā most zealously bent towardes religion, (if he had vnderstoode, that Peter Martyr had ben disteined with so fowle a crime) could haue fownd in his heart, I saie not to commend him, but only [Page] [Page] haue anie strength or power towardes saluation: it is not possible, that anie thing shoulde healpe towardes salua­tion, whiche is void of the grace and mercie of Christ. But Luther denieth, that the grace of Christ is procured by them. Wherupō it foloweth, that ther is conteined in them no sownd fruicte of iustification, but onlie bare Images and tokens. And therfore it is to no purpose for you to keepe them, if you beleeue Luther. But bicause it were tedious to make a discourse vpon all the rest of the Sacramētes I wil speake only of two, which are of gret weight and importaunce towardes saluation. The one is the confession of synnes, wherin is conteined the sacrament of penaunce: (it maie please your fine and piked eloquence to beare with these termes of plaine schoolemen) the other is the Sacrament of the Aulter.

Confessi­on. And to speake somewhat first of Confession, I saie and affirme, that there is no remedie appointed in the [Page 96] Church so effectuall to put awaie the diseases of the sowle, and to recouer the health thereof by the grace of Christ, as confession is. The whiche we prooue by reason, and trie also by daile experience. I saie nothing here, how in the time of the old lawe, in the sacrifices which were oftentimes of­fered vp for the purgation of synnes, there was a certaine confession of vn­clene Num. 5. alife made vnto the Priestes. Nei­ther do I think it needefull to rehearse in this place, how ernestly such ascame to the baptisme of Iohn, did first con­fesse Math. 3. btheir sinnes. Neither wil I declare as now what is writen in the Actes of the Apostles as towching cōfession of Act. 19. d.synnes, which was made vnto the dis­ciples of Christe by suche as became Christians. That commaundemēt also of S. Iames concerning confession I Iacob. 5. dwil passe ouer with silence. Neither wil I here alleage those place in the which Christ hath most vndowbtedly [Page] committed the rule and iurisdictiō of sowles vnto the Priestes, the whiche, as you know verie well by the studie of the law, can not be executed, with­out The pro­fit of cō ­fession.the examination of the cause. This one thing wil I saie, that the pro­fitte of this wholesome cōfession is so great, that anie wise man maie easily coniecture, without anie testimonials, that it was ordeined by the prouident wil and bowntiful mercie of the holie Ghoste. For first of al, how muche the knowledge of euerie mans owne selfe auaileth to saluation, it can not wel be expressed with wordes. For euen as selfe ignorāce blindeth the mind with errours, and maketh it prowd and in­solent: so doth the remembrance of the wekenes and miserie of man bring men to the learning of wisedome. Fur­thermore, for so much as no man can atteine the grace of God, except he doe firste lowly abbase and plucke downe his minde: there is nothing to [Page 97] be regarded with greater care, studie, and diligence of such as desire to get the grace of Christ, then a most fer­uent loue and earnest desire to come vnto this vertue of humilitie, in the Humilitiewhich resteth the verie foundatiō of Christian pietie. And this humilitie is caused in vs by setting before our eyes the deformitie of our synnes, by shame which riseth in vs by beholding the ilfauourednes of then, by dew consi­deratiō of the daunger, into the which we ranne headlong. But al these things are conteined in the confession of our wickednes and synnes. For confession conteineth in it selfe a discrete exami­natiō and acknowleging of our selues, a learning of humilitie and modestie, a bashful rehearsal of the synne commit­ted, a feare of the daunger hanging ouer our heades. By this confession, such as lie downe, are stirred vp: suche as be faint, are cheered foreward: such as be prowd, are pulled downe: such as [Page] be vnlearned, are instructed wyth wholesome lessons. And this is well knowen, that when the time draweth nere in the which confession is to be made, men are more modest and cōti­nent then at other times. And the har­der it is to bring manie men vnto it, the better it is seene, that it was order­ned by the prouidence of God. For whereas there is naturally in al men a certaine loue of honestie, and a care­ful desire to conceale dishonestie, no man could be brought to open the de­formitie of his sinnes vnto Priestes, vn­lesse he were driuen therevnto by or­der, disposition, power and wil of the holie Ghost. Moreouer what stronger bridle can be deuised to asswage and represse the haughtinesse of men of power, to restreigne and moderate their rash and wilfull presumpteous­nes? For we see the highest Princes, when they haue caste them selues downe at the feete of the Priestes, to [Page 98] be sore afraied of their rebukes, to be restreigned by their lawes, to be instructed by their aduertisementes, to be reclaimed by their commaundemētes frō vnlawfull lust and libertie to good order and ciuilitie. This Sacramēt cau­seth The ef­fectes of cōfession.bashfulnes, it draweth out teares, yt endeth aduouteries, yt restoreth money embeseled, it quencheth ha­tred, yt maketh peace, yt quieteth rage, it setteth in comelie order the whole conuersation of the inwarde man. But now, if a man not conten­ting him selfe to be confessed once in the yeare, wil oftentimes confesse all the vncleanes of his minde, wil exa­mine his conscience diligently, to the end that he maie cōfesse with the gre­ter fruict, wil keepe an earnest battaile against synne: he shal see a dailie amē ­demēt in him self, with a more cleane, chast and vpright conuersation. I take Iesus Christ my Lord and my God to witnesse, that by the often coming [Page] to this most wholesome confession I haue risen and escaped from a merue­lous nombre of sinnes. In so much that, if I haue at anie time repressed the ple­sure of the flesh, if I haue despised vn­cleane lustes, if I haue ben earnestly bent towardes the loue of chast life, if I haue ben enkēdled with anie sparcle of the loue of God: I maie thanke this Sacrament of it, by the whiche the holie Ghost hath imparted vnto me a great deale of his mercie and goodnes. Neither haue I only receiued this so great commoditie of confession, but whome so euer I do see geauen to this most holie exercise, (of the whiche there is a meruelouse numbre emon­gest vs) I perceiue that they are deli­uered from al worldlie pleasures, that they flourish in all vertues, and that they become better and better dailie, to the gréat wonder of manie men.

And this is that, that moueth me to vse moste earnest perswasions with my [Page 99] subiectes, to induce them to resort of­tentimes to confession: wherof I re­ceiue no smal profitte. For manie of them haue nowe withdrawen them selues from the companie of vnchast women, manie haue remoued them selues from exactinge of vsurie, manie haue recōciled them selues vnto such, as they did beare mortal hatred vnto. And I know, that emongest vs, many worthie Bishops both for learning and vertue doth the like. Neither are we such as can contēt our selues with the confession of synnes only, but we re­quire also the fruictes of penance, the whiche we are wont to call satisfacti­ons, Satisfaction.how so euer it plese your maisters to scorne and scoffe at that word. But beleeue me, we are nothing troubled with the laughter of vngodlie mē. We herken to S. Iohn, which commaūded such as had alreadie confessed their synnes to doe the worthy fruictes of Math. 3. [...]penāce. We willingly receiue the selfe [Page] same wordes pronownced and repe­ted by that most high maister of iu­stice, the redeemer of mankind. For while we obei the commaundemētes of Christe, we so litle esteeme the tauntes and scoffes of lewd felowes, that we are not only not moued with their reprochful talke, but also we re­ioise excedingly in it.

Now then, seing that this sacramēt is of so great importaunce to saluatiō, seing that we see so great fruicte to be gathered out of it, if we doe feruently desire the saluation of al men: can you blame me, if I sorow and lament, that this great gate of saluatiō is closed vp to manie Christians through the lewd­nes and misbelefe of a few men? I talk not with you now, for so much as you kepe, as you saie your selfe, the sacra­mentes of the Churche. But if some man of an other disposition shal be so crewell and vngodlie, that he wil at­tempte [Page 100] to damme vp this waie to sal­uation, casting before it piles or heapes of earth, wil you suffer it? Will you, seeing such a detestable offence, so re­fraine your selfe, that you wil not crie out vpon it? Blame not me then, if I doe, as you your selfe wil doe, if it be true, that you saie, that you doe keepe and obserue diligently the sacramētes of the church. But if you speake other­wise then truth, I will not much mer­uaile at it, for your doctours are excel­lent framers, not only of impietie, but also of vanitie.

But you will saye peraduenture, that muche euyll and myschiefe ari­seth by the occasion of this confes­sion. If it be so, it is not muche to be merueiled at. For there is nothing in the worlde soo holye, the whiche men agreed in wickednesse maie not abuse to naughtines and mischiefe. But it foloweth not by and by, that for the defaulte of a fewe lewde [Page] personnes, thinges ordeined of God for the saluation of men should be vt­terly cast awaie. For so, ther had ben no good thing left this daie in the worlde. For al thinges, that are by na­ture wholesome, are vnto corrupt and vicious men hurtful and pestilent. And to let passe all other thinges, howe manie men are wont to abuse the verie mercie of God, when he differ­reth to punish them for synne, to the increase of their damnation? And yet is not God for all that remoued from his good will and purpose to deale mercifully with vs.

But some will saie: we confesse vnto God only. Yea, but God, for so much as he can not be perfectely seene of vs, hath appointed his Deputies vpon the earth, to exercise his authoritie and iurisdiction, to threaten and feare, to geaue gentle admonitions, to in­courage, to raise vppe, to geaue sentence: in so muche that, who so [Page 101] so euer doth despise them, are to be ta­ken (and that for great good cause) as though they did despise God him self, and refuse his order and commaunde­mēt. Furthermore it were dāgerous to leaue euerie man to his owne wil in this case. For howe manie shall you find, that shalbe able to search out and consider their owne synnes? that wil confesse them with such shamefastnes and contrition of heart, as Dauid saith is a moste acceptable Sacrifice vnto God? that wil geaue sentence lawful­ly vpon them selues, for that they are in their owne causes verie parciall iudges? It remaineth therefore, that he, that lyueth not vnder the obedi­ence of the Church, and wil not abide the iudgement of a Prieste: neither would he at anie tyme be confessed of his synnes vnto God, as he ought to be▪ Dowbtlesse Basile the great sawe ful wel, what profitte ariseth by this confession, when in his Ethikes he as­cribed [Page] vnto it the very beginning and foundation of iustice. So thought O­rigen, when he willed vs that we shuld not delaie it from daie to daie: but so soone as we were fallen, we should foorthwith haue recourse vnto the Priest. Such was the iudgement of all holie men, the which exhort vs so of­ten to this godly exercise. Neither did the bishop of Rome first ordeine this Sacrament: but being before ordei­ned and commonly receiued, he de­creed verie prouidently, that it should be put in vre at the least once in the yeare, lest it might be neglected to the great decaie of godlines.

But to cōclude this matter, I would faine learne of you, howe you thinke Esai. 1 [...]. b.that place of Esaie to be vnderstanded, where he saieth, that it shall come to passe after the birth of Christe, that a wained child shal thrust his hand into the Cockatrise hole, and pul him out. If you wil folow the Iewes, you shall [Page 102] vnderstand it thus: that euen as the Poetes reporte, that Hercules being yet in his cradle caught twoo great snakes that were sent vnto him by Iuno, and dasht them together: so shal euery sucking babe take venemous ser­pentes in his handes out of their holes and kil them. But if you wil expound the place like a Christian man, by the children you muste vnderstande those menne, to whome Christe hath geauen power to treade vppon ser­pentes and scorpions, that is to saie, vppon the beastlines of synnes, vpon the crafte and creweltie of Diuelles, that lie lurking in the secrete couerte of sowles. And although they be simple as children, yet are they en­dewed with suche great power and strength, that they can easilie pull owt those vipers out of the moste priuie corners and innermost creekes of mennes heartes and kill them, that they may not infecte and poison such, [Page] as haue ioyned them selues to Christ by earnest and true faith. Nowe this thing as it maie be done of the Priestes of Christ manie waies, so there can no waie be deuised by anie wise man more commodious then that, whiche is by the wholesome confession of synnes. for in confession the Priestes doe thrust their handes into the inner­most partes of mens heartes, that they may draw out the serpentes of synne, and dassh them against a stone, and kil them.

The Sa­crament of the Aulter. But now let vs come to that won­derful Sacrament of the Aulter. But before I enter into this matter, it li­keth me to set here a goodlie saying of Simias written of Plato in his booke intituled Pho [...]do. Plato bringeth in Si­mias reasoning thus with Socrates. Me thinketh, Socrates, as I iudge you think also, that it is impossible, or surely ex­ceding hard, for a man, so long as he is in this life, to vnderstand the truthe [Page 103] cl [...]rely and perfectely. The which al­though it be true, yet me thinketh it were the parte of a weake and faint hearted man, not to discusse and exa­mine by reasoning on both sides, what so euer is wont to be disputed in these darke matters, vntil at the length, the matter being diligently weyed and considered, we may be able either to lerne the truth of other, or els to find it our selues. If we can not atteine vnto this, yet at the lest wise, we must haue great regard, emongest the reasons of diuers men to take some one that see­meth better and surer: with the which as it were with a boate we maie go­uerne our life in these waues with some daunger, vntil we may either find an other ship of more assurance and lesse daunger, or els be instructed by the wordes and aduise of God him selfe, how to directe our course with­out anie errour. Thus much said he. But to what purpose, say you, haue [Page] you alleaged this place out of Plato? That you may vnderstand, that men of excellent wits did euen in those daies perceiue, how litle we ought to trust to mās reason, and how earnestly we ought to praie, that our life might be gouerned, not by the staie of our owne wit, but by the rule of the woorde of God. So we doe, say you. Would God ye did. But it is not so. But rather when it is lest cōuenient, you wil weakē rea­son and take it awaie quite, and runne like mad mē into darkenes: againe whē reason is to be bridled by the faith of Christ, you yeald so much to reason, that what so euer reason is not able to atteyne, you will foorth with geaue it ouer. Now for somuch as reason is driuen into a narrowe and streight roome, and the boundes of Christian faith are passing great and endles: it is a token not onely of a naughtie and wicked man, but also of a blunt and dul wit, to directe his life, not by faith, [Page 104] but by reason. For what man a liue is able to trie out perfectly the causes of the lest thinges in the worlde? to des­cribe exactely the first spring, the in­crease, the varietie, the beawtie, the fruict, the profitte and vse of trees and plātes? to expresse in wordes the ordre and waie, by the which eche thing in his kinde is holdē together and made to cōtinue? what man in the world is able to atteine by wit, to search out the se­cret force and cause, how a liuing thīg is made, nourished and knit together with bones and sinewes? by what cū ­ning or subtilty the vaines are spread through the whole body, how the ar­teries are so wonderfully wouen one within an other, and how they do cō ­uey the spirite of life to al the partes of the body, being so meruelously accor­ded the one to serueth' other▪ ād so fine­ly cōpacted together within thēselues. Then to come to the nourishment, in­crease, mouīg, goīg, diuersity, ād multi­tude [Page] of liuing thinges, and the naturall knowledge and pollicie that ech thing hath to keepe and defend it selfe: what man was euer able to find out by vn­doubted reasons the very ground and perfecte knowledge of these thinges? Great learned men haue disputed ve­rie much as touching the mind of mā: of the nature, disposition, wit, reason, inuention, memorie, and other powers of it: but of al this disputation we re­ceiue none other commoditie but this, that we may wel perceiue by their long studie and diligent search, howe great darkenes and ignoraunce there is in mans reason. For we see in them a goodlie endeuour of mind to consi­der the nature of mans mind: but of the perfecte knowledge of the thing, which thev seeke for, we are neuer the neere. Wherevpon it is gathered, that no man is able to know him selfe perfectly.

And yet there are some men so hard [Page 105] that, if a thing be tolde them, which is wont to grow or to be done in farre Countries, they wil not beleue it: as though the thinges whiche they see with their eyes, and yet are igno­rant of the causes, were lesse to be wō ­dred at, then those thinges, which are reported to be done in other places. But now to omit to speake of the firm­nes of the earth, the passing great wid­nes of the sea, the nature of the ayer that enuironeth vs, the burning of the skie, the due proportion and agreemēt of these bodies, the chaunge and alte­ration of one nature into an other as it were by course and order of Lawe: What shall we saie of the brightnesse, bewtie, hugenes, and compasse of the heauen? You, if ye leane vnto reason onely, what woulde you haue done in this case? Ymagine you had ben borne and bred in the darke countries of Ci­meria (as the Poetes feine) and some man had tolde you, that there were a [Page] huge greate frame conteining within his compasse al the whole world, mer­uelouslie decked and garnished with many fiers, of such hugenes that al the landes and seas in comparison of it, are but as a pinnes point, of such swiftnes in mouinge, that within the space of fower and twentie howers it turneth the whole bodie round about, of such force and violence, that seuen other huge bodies of the same nature, which are conteined within his compasse, ha­uinge a contrarye course, it beareth them al backe with his onely mouing, if a manne shoulde tell you this tale, would you beleeue him? No truly, if you trust onely to reason and senses.

For so would you perswade your sel­ues, that the thinges, the causes wher­of vou are not able to conceiue, were impossible, (before you see them with your eyes).

What if he shoulde tell you of the sonne shine, a thing both healthful and [Page 106] comfortable to al liuing creatures, and of the goodly order, which the sonne keepeth in goinge by litle and litle to­wards the North, and again how he re­turneth by the same way to the south, casting his bright beames vpō al things in the world? What if he should report how the moone with her increase and decrease diuideth the times of the yere and how she geueth ripenes to al thīgs which the land and sea bringeth forth? What if he should declare, how diuers­lie the heauenly bodies aboue are mo­ued and tourned, and how notwith­standing they are all reduced to a most perfecte harmonie and agreemente? Would you beleeue it? No truely, if you can be perswaded in nothing, except it may either be proued by rea­son, or perceiued by sense.

It is surely a token of a base mind to esteme the knowlege of things, by the narrow and streight measure of mans vnderstanding, and not according to [Page] the almighty power of him that made them. And out of this dulnes or weak­nes of nature procedeth al such opini­ons, as are contrary to holy Religion. For all heretikes, either they esteeme the almightie power of God by their owne weakenes, or els they measure the infinite mercie of God by their own naughtines. As though thei were able to make any resemblance in the world of the power of God, or vnder­stand how great the goodnes is of that moste bountifull Father, whiche doth with special regard, as it were, walke vp and downe throughout al his crea­tures, and prouidētly mainteineth eche thing in his kinde and nature. And to passe ouer all other thinges, me thin­keth, that in that last geuing of shape and fourme to euery liuing thing, I see a miracle, which sheweth plainly the power and cūning of that most excel­lent workeman, in whose handes the liuing creature was made and fashio­ned. [Page 107] Neither dothe the multitude of liuing thinges minish the estimation of Gods worke, but rather augment and increase it. For the benefites of almigh­tie God, the more they are in number, and the better they are knowen, the better is the greatnes of his power and mercy sene, although the reason of his workes be not vnderstood. What shal I here speake of those thinges, that are for the excellency of their nature farre aboue the sense and vnderstanding of man? Who wil beleue that there is an infinite multitude of heauenly spirites, whiche being of vnderstanding moste cleere, of holines most pure, of vertue and power very excellent, of comelines and bewty most like vnto God, are al­waies occupied in the Seruice of God? euermore singing and praising his Ma­iestie, continually burning with the flame of the loue of God? What? Can you conceiue by reason, how the only sonne of God, the veri expresse Image [Page] of the Father, the brightnes of ouerla­sting light, being equal with the Father in nature, power, kingdome, and maie­stie: toke vpon him the shape of man, suffered in his mortal bodie labour, mi­sery, punishment for vs, redemed with his bloud our soules which were fouly spotted in sinne? If these thinges are to be weyed by mans reason onely, they are nothing like to be true: but if we will consider them according to the faith, which we haue of the bowntiful goodnes of God, there is nothing more credible. For passing great benefits are to be required and loked for of passing great bountie. He that spared not (saith Rom. 8. f.S. Paul) his owne sonne, but gaue him vp for vs al: How gaue he not vnto vs al things with him? Wherfore to such as beleue vprightly, I thinke ther is no­thing els nedeful to be considered, but how the thing, that they are willed to beleue, standeth with the bountie of God: the which doing, it is not pos­sible [Page 108] that any man should doubt of any mysterie of our saluation.

These thinges being thus determi­ned, I will now talke, not with you, M. Haddon, of whome, as you saie, the Sacramentes of the Churche are kepte: butte I will take soome one of them to talke withall, that rayleth with blasphemouse mouth against the blessed Sacramente of the Aulter.

And bicause I wil seeke no further, let it be your golden Martyr, whom you commend so highlie. Ymagine there­fore, that I talke with him after this sorte.

O moste vile and naughtie felowe, what came into thy minde to go about to deface, to violate, and to depraue that moste holy Mysterie, the monu­mente of the loue of God towardes vs, the comforte of our bannishment, the staie of the frailtie of manne, the bankette of heauen, ordeyned for vs in that last Supper by the handes of [Page] Our Lord him selfe? Was there none in so many hundred yeres but thou and thy Maisters, that durst attempt so hei­nouse, vile, and barbarouse an acte? Was there none that vnderstoode the sense of the holie Scripture, the mea­ning of the Gospell, the order of the blessed Sacramentes, but you? Were so many holy Martyrs, so many Reli­gious persons, so many great wise men (in whome shone the beames of the brightnes of God) ignorant in matters of so great importance? It is like for­sooth, that the light of the holie Ghost shewed it selfe first vnto suche saucie, desperate, rash and presumptuous var­lettes, as you are, and suffered so many thousandes of holie and vertuous men to lye in darkenes and ignorance. Tel me, I pray thee, what great thing had Christ done for vs, if at what time he determined to leaue to his Disciples a speciall pleadge of his loue towardes thē, he had left them nothing els, but a [Page 109] bare remembrance of his death in the consecration of that bread? It had ben a signe only, meet to be nūbred em [...] ­gest those that you defaced and ouer­threw, and nothing worthie to be ce­lebrated with so great reuerēce of that moste holie and euerlasting Prieste. Moreouer I wold faine learne of thee, whether it be a wicked offence to call to remembrance the death of Christe, so long as a man is in sinne? No truly, but cōtrariwise we can deuise no bet­ter medicine, then that is, to driue awai sinne, and to recouer our health by the grace of Christ. What moued S. Paul then, if there be nothing elles in this sa­crament, but only a bare remembrāce of that death that Christ suffred vpon the Crosse, to threaten so grieuous and horrible paines to suche, as woulde re­ceiue this heauēly bread vnworthily? 1. Cor. 1 [...]. 4.Who so euer shall eate, saieth he, the bread, and drinke the cup of our Lord vnworthylie, shal be giltie. What? Is [Page] it such a greiuous offence, when I am sicke, to thinke vpon the medicine, with the which only I may be healed? What other thing did I, when I recei­ued that bread, (if there be nothing els in it, but a remēbrance of those woūds, by the which only my wounds may be healed) but cal to remēbraunce the on­ly remedy of life? Wilt thou blame me, when I am sicke, bicause I seeke the re­medie of my disease, and humblie call for succour? Thou canst not do it. And yet▪ if I receiue that, bread vnworthily, that is to say, as thou expoundest it, if I remember being in synne, that Christ suffered death and crewel tormentes for me: S. Paule maketh me terribly a­fraid, by charging me with a crime. But with what a crime I pray thee? Some light or cōmon crime peraduēture, the which offendeth not verie much. No, such a crime as is of al other most hei­nouse 1. Co. [...]1. f.and wicked. He shalbe giltle, sai­eth he, of the bodie and bloude of our [Page 110] Lorde, that is to say, he shalbe gyltie of no lesse crime, then if he had crucified Christ. For what cause? Bicause as the wicked souldiers, pricked forewarde with vnbeleefe, put to death the Lord and maker of al thinges: so do they, that presume to touch with vncleane mindes that moste excellent cleanes, seeme to bring vpon them selues the selfe same plague for the likenes of their heinouse offence. For bothe of them do alike despise Christe, and vn­reuerently abuse his holines and ma­iesty. For otherwise what harme were it to synful men to receiue that bread? None at al. The Apostle therfore, bi­cause he sawe, how grieuouse a faulte it was, to touch the bodie of our Lord with an vncleane soule, denoūced the punishment, to fray al men from doing such a pr [...]sumptuous acte. And there­fore he saith anon after: Let a manne first trie him selfe, and so eate of that 1. Co. 11. g.breade, and drinke of that cuppe.

[Page] Mat. 26. e Mar. 14. c Luc. 22. b. [...]. Co. 11. c. And, what can be more plaine then the wordes of our Lord? This is, saith he, my bodie: and doe this in remem­brance of me. How then? Wilt thou presume to take the wordes of Christ, being nothing doubtful, but plaine and euident, and expoūd them maliciusly? Wilt thou set the meaning of S. Paul at naught, which expoūdeth the myste rie exceeding plainly and wel? Wilt thou preferre this thy vnsetled fantasie and mad gare, before the most sincere meaning of the Apostle of God? If he be giltie of the bodie and bloud of our Lord, which receiueth this bread vn­worthelie: He that slaundereth and depraueth it, he that reuileth and (so muche as in him lyeth) rendeth it in peeces, he that treadeth vnder his foot [...] the bodie and bloude of Christe, he that goeth about to take away and vtterlie to abolishe the vertue of that so wonderfull a Sacramente: howe shall he be punnished according to his [Page 111] wicked and horrible facte?

What is it so? If thou vnderstande not, by what meanes the moste holie bodie of Christ is in this Sacramēt, not placed or limited according to the measure and proportion of the greatnesse thereof, but presente in the eyes of a faithfull heart through the almightie power of the woorde of God: if thou see not that merueilouse chaunge of earthly breade into the nature of hea­uenlie bread: if thou perceiue not, by what meanes the most excellent Ma­iestie of Christ, which filleth al things, multiplieth the giftes of his whole bo­die, that he may therewirh feede and refresh the faithfull soules, and glewe them all together with charitie within them selues, and tye them fast to him selfe with the band of euerlasting loue: is it therfore reason, that thou shouldst slaunder and depraue this so wonder­ful a benefite of God? What thing doest thou vnderstande? What thing [Page] doest thou conceiue by discourse and reason? What thing is there in all the worlde, whiche thy minde is able to perceue exactly, and to know perfect­lie? Why then doest thou not order thy life, by cleere faithe, and not by troubled reason? Tel mee, I pray thee, doest thou mistrust Gods power or mercie, or elles doth the greatnesse of the benefite trouble thee? Neyther can the power of God be hindred by any let or staie, neyther can his mercy be limited with any bowndes: and the greatnes of the benefite is a very good proofe of the truth thereof. For why, there is nothing more agreeable to the greate bountifulnesse of God, then the greatnes of the thing, which he gea­ueth.

Then I aske thee an other question: What is the cause, thinkest thou, why I doe beleue, that the bodie and bloud of Christe is after a wonderfull man­ner conteined in this Sacrament, and [Page 112] thou beleeuest it not? It is not sure­ly, bicause I will suffer my selfe to be abused for lacke of witte. For thou doest not passe mee either in witte, or learning. But this is the cause. Thou trustest thy senses, and I directe al my doinges according to the faith of holie Churche. Thou doest caste of the yoke, and spurne against it: but I doe of myne owne accorde put my heade into the moste sweete yoke of Christ. Thou doest refuse his benefites, but I doe praie vnto him to encrease my faieth.

Moreouer, we see this by daily ex­perience. The more a man yeldeth to vice and vncleanes of life: the feinter is his beleefe as touching this dreadfull Mysterie. Wherevppon it is conclu­ded, that he, that geaueth him selfe wholie ouer to the pleasure of the bo­die, and therefore falleth from the vnitie of the Churche, wil beleue no­thing at all of it. But on the other [Page] side we see, that the chaster and clea­ner life any mā leadeth, the more sure and constant is his belefe in this point: in so much that he persuadeth him self, that he beholdeth in this Sacrament, euen Christ him selfe nailed vpon the Crosse.

Surely this agreement of the mind and wil of man, is a thing to be woon­dered at. The mind seeketh the thing that is true: the wil desireth the thing that is good: and the wel gouerned wil foloweth the iudgement of the truly directed mind. It foloweth therefore that they only see the truth perfectly, which are wel ordered in their life and conuersation: for vicious and naughty men are cōmonly tourned away from the truth, bicause they haue their mind disordered with vnruly desires.

Now therefore consider to whom it is better to geaue eare. To those ho­ly men, the which being of mind most pure, of life most chast, in holie Scri­ptures [Page 113] most excellently wel learned, haue from the time of the primitiue Church folowed this faith: or elles to these madbraines and frantik felowes, to these filthie licentiouse ribawdes, to the newe vpstart doctours, which haue most wickedly and heinously vi­olated this faith? This Sacramente the holie Fathers, whiche were taught of the Apostles, called Synaxim, that it to say, a bringing together, bicause it Synaxis.linked the mindes of men together wi in themselues, and brought them to be ioyned al in Christ. In like māner they Euchari­stia.called it Eucharistiam, that is, a than­kesgeuing: bicause there is no benefite of God in this life, for the whiche we are bound to yeald vnto his Maiestie greater praise and hartier thankes. For The effe­ctes of the Sacramēt of the Aulter.it supporteth the state of the sowle, it establisheth the powers of the minde, it clereth the vnderstāding, it strēgth­neth faith, it stirreth vppe hope, it en­kendleth charitie, it inflameth hartes, [Page] it filleth the godlie and deuout mindes with meruelouse great sweetenes and comfort. With this heauenlie foode, S. Cyprian (so often as any tempest or persecution was towarde) thought it good to fortifie them, that were ap­pointed to suffer tormentes for the name of Christe. And therefore dyd he the sooner admit into the Churche againe, such as were yet penitentes, that is to witte, menne separated from the Church for a tyme, to do penance for some offence committed: to the intent that, being strengthned by this cōmunion of the body of Christ, they might stand valiātly to the end against al the power of Satan. For the holy mā was of this mind, that the foode of this heauēly bread gaue such strēgth ād courage, as could not be brokē or weake­ned by any force of our enemie the de­uil. What should I here rehearse other holy Martyrs without nūbre, al holie writers, the faith and agreemēt of the [Page 114] vniuersal Church continued euen frō the Apostles time to our daies? And yet wilt thou keepe open war, against the ordinaunce of Christe, against the doctrine of S. Paule, against the inesti­mable greatnesse of the fruictes in this mysterie cōteined, against the experi­ēce of such wōderful profit and sweet­nes, against the pure and sincere faith of the Catholik Church? And yet wilt thou reprochfully reuile the body and bloud of Christ, and depraue like a mad mā the most excellent and highest be­nifit, that euer the goodnes of God be­stowed vpon man? And yet wilt thou reioyse in thy wickednes, and poison many other men with the contagion of this thy most pestilent heresie?

These thinges, M. Haddon, thinke them not spoken to you, but to your Martyr. And now let him stand a side, and I wil thus reason with you. Could you, M. Haddon, knowing, as you doe verie wel, not only the vertue of [Page] this wonderful Sacrament, whiche is of al other the greatest, but also the strength and operation of al other Sa­cramentes: being withall of that opi­nion, that to despise the Sacramentes, is a moste heinouse trespasse: when you vnderstoode, that there was a man in the worlde so lewde and wic­ked, that he woulde goe aboute to take awaie and abolish this most wor­thie pleadge of the loue of God, this most sure staie of all Christian Reli­gion, conteming in it all the graces and benefittes of God: could you, I saie, speake familiarly vnto him? could you salute him gentelly? could you shewe him anie token of loue? Haue 2. Ioā. 1. c.you neuer reade in S. Iohn, that he that saieth, good morrowe, to wic­ked menne, is become partaker of their wickednesse? But you haue not onely spoken familiarly to this Mar­tyr, but also commended him aboue the skies: and you haue saied, that [Page 115] that same golden couple of olde men, were brought into your Iland by the prouidence of God, to shine ouer you (which had alreadie the goodly brightnesse of the newe sonne risen emongest you) with a muche clee­ter light.

Are you so sottish, M Haddon, that you vnderstande not, howe muche you haue disteined your estimation by that countenaunce and shewe of gentlenesse towardes him? For what can be more infamous, then to be fa­miliare with a frātike and naughtie fe­lowe? But if you like his Doctrine al­so, then is it plaine, that you keepe not the Sacramentes at al: for so much as you haue vppon an vnsetled pange, without al order, wisedome, or discre­tion, taken awaie the greatest Sacra­ment, and that, that is of al other most wonderfull. Whie then say you, that you wonder, if there be any kind of professours in diuinitie in the worlde, [Page] that despiseth and setteth at naught the Sacramentes? But let vs now con­sider the description of your Church, the which you set before our eyes to behold, that we may vnderstand by it, that you haue had none other maister in Religion, but only the holy Ghost. You say thus.

First of all, bicause faith is by hearing, we sende downe into all partes of our realme teachers of the holie Scriptures, to instructe the people in all pointes of godlines, and to infourme them in the true woorshipping of God. Out of what fountaine sprang these Doctours? If they came out of the schoole of Lu­ther, Bucer or Caluin: they can teach the people no godlines, being them selues open enemies to all godlinesse. It were therefore muche more tole­rable, to haue no doctours at all, then to be infected with the most corrupt Doctrine of wicked menne. If they sprang out of any other heade, then [Page 116] is it manifest, that there is not emon­gest you any one and simple Do­ctrine, but diuerse opinions fondly iarring within them selues. It fol­loweth.

Then haue we a common order of praier out of the holie Scriptures, confir­med by the authoritie of a Parlament, (for so doe they terme the consent of the estates of our Realme) from the which we suffer no man to depart. By what order, lawe, or authoritie is this done: that a Councel, or as you cal it, a Par­lament, should so impudently vsurpe the office of the Catholike Churche, to make orders for praiers, prescribe how religion ought to be vsed, and not suffer any man to depart from the or­der which it hath decreed? For in ho­lie thinges it is not lawfull for these menne to geaue lawes, but to take lawes. For otherwise they shall di­sturbe the common weale, if they wil not content them selues with their [Page] owne vocation, but will thrust them selues into other mens doinges: and they shal marre Religion, if they will in matters apperteyninge to them onely, that susteine the personne of the Churche, take vppon them to meddle, and transpose the dignitie of Priestes to them selues. You say after­warde.

Prouiding both in the one and in the other, so muche as we coulde, that the commaundement of the holie ghost be obeied, the whiche, willeth that such as speake in the Churche, should vse the word of God: and that there should be one common and agreable Doctrine emongest them all. You doe verie wel vndowbtedly. But wherehence riseth this so great debate and hourlie bour­ly for Religion in your Churches? Wherefore are the confessions and Credes so often chopped and chaun­ged in places, where Luther hath had a great name?

[Page 117] And we prouide, saie you, that the Sacramentes be ministred verie neere vnto the prescribed order of the holy scri­ptures, and according to the example of the old Church, in the whiche our Lorde Iesus Christ first ordeined them himselfe with his Apostles. O valiant men, wor­thie to be commended aboue the hea­uens. O glorious attempte. O liuelie courage of lustie blouddes, the which thought yt not ynoughe to approche neere vnto the holines of the olde Church, but they would presse euen at the verie hard heales of them. It fol­loweth.

All these thinges are set out in our owne mother tongue, bicause it is a great madnes for a man to babble out before God, he can not tell what: and it is dire­ctely againste the most wholesome do­ctrine of S. Paule, and all the auncient examples of the Apostolike Churches. It is not you only, that teache such as Praier in the vulgar tongue.vnderstand not the Latine, to praie in [Page] their owne tongue. For we also doe not suffer such, as are ignorant in the Latine speach, to serue God, but only in their own mother tongue: and there are manie bookes of praiers and holy scriptures writen, not by Parlament, as you call it, but by holie Priestes: the whiche (being firste examined by the prelates of the church) are sent abroad euerie where, and by them are chil­dren, women, and simple folkestrained in the knowledge of their dewtie to­wardes God. And the thinges that are thus written, they are not taken out of euerie mans fantasie, but out of the holie Scriptures, and out of the wri­tinges and examples of holie men. So that there lacketh not omongest vs anie discipline of manners, nor exam­ple of vertue, nor good bringing vp in true religion, to al such, as coulde not imploie them selues to the studie of learning. We haue also manie sermōs, by the whiche men are stirred vp to [Page 118] the loue of godlines and religion. But Discreti [...] in prea­ching.in preaching we vse much discretion and warines, that none of those que­stions be opened emongest women and ignorant folkes, which are not ve­rie necessarie vnto saluation, and yet maie quickely intangle their mindes with verie troublesome dowbtes and scruples. For as S. Gregorie of Nazian­zene saieth verie wisely: it is not con­uenient to reason and dispute of God, neither to al men, neither in the pre­sence of all men, neither at all times, neither of all matters, neither without good discretiō. For there is required to Thinges requisite in a preacher.the doing of this thinge a meru [...]lous cleanes of sowl and body, a veri calme and wel setled mind, good time, cōue­nient oportunitie, earnest zeale, much fearfulnes and exceding great modera­rion. For ther is no man so simple, that he can not vnderstand the difficultie of euery question: but there are few so witty, that they cārid thē selues out of [Page] the briers, when they are once fallen in. And this is the cause, whie manie men are confounded in questions, but few escape out of their snares. More­ouer such is the arrogancie and pride of certaine ignorāt felowes, that they become intolerable, if they can atteine neuer so litle knowledge in any thing, which they knew not before, specially if it be in expownding the holy scri­ptures. For they wil iudge so presump­teously of the highest pointes of Diui­nitie (the which they vnderstand not) as though they were called to be of Gods priuie counsaile: the which rash­nes hath bred manie wicked and trou­blesome errours, and caused much dis­sension. But the end of the law, saieth S. Paul, is not the vaunting of learning, [...]. Tim. 1. bbut charity from a pure hart, and good conscience, and faith vnfained. He therfore that can bring to passe, that al men maie be, linked the one to the other in charitie, fournished with ver­tues, [Page 119] established in true faith: although he beate not into the heads of the vn­learned people a hundred questions towching predestination, yet shal he shew him to be a very good preacher. Not ne­cessarie t [...] haue the scripture [...] in the vulgar tongue.Therfore for so much as this ought to be our only intent, how to plant cha­ritie, innocencie, and faith in the hartes of men: and that maie very well be taught without this translation of the holy scriptures: what neded it, to take the thinges that were cōteined in the latine tongue without perill, and to translate them into the English tongue with great daunger? Mary sir, say you, it is against the most wholesome do­ctrine of S. Paul How so I praie you? If you marke well the meaning of S. Paul, you shal see, that his wordes are nothing contrarie to our pourpose.

But first of all it is to be knowen, that in S. Paules time al Christian men in a manner were endewed with such vertues and qualities, as fewe men in [Page] our daies can atteine vnto by studie and faith. Then it is also to be conside­red, that there were in those daies di­uers giftes and graces of the holy ghost geauen vnto such men, as were infla­med with the loue of Christe. How­beit, although they were taught and schooled of the holy Ghost, yea and wel instructed to be humble and mo­dest: yet were they in no small daūger of pride. The which is not to be won­dered at, for so muche as S. Paul him selfe the maister of heauēlie wisedom, the perfecte example of humilitie and modestie affirmeth, that the pricke of [...]. Cor. 12. b.the fleshe was a thing necessarie for him, lest the knowledge of the secrets of God might puffe vp his mind. Now as manie were puffed vp with those gyftes, so were such, as had the gyfte of tongues, somewhat more insolent then other men: and they would praise God in diuers tongues, whiche other men vnderstoode not, without any in­terpretour. [Page 120] There was also an other great inconuenience, which was, that he, that spake with vnknowē tonges, would not tarie till an other man had made an end of speaking, but at one time a great many together woulde praise God in straunge tongues. And these three discōmodities were caused in their assembles, for lacke of discretiō in those good men. The first was the arrogant setting out of the gyftes of God: the secōd was the disquieting of such as would teach: the third was the breaking of order, which of all thinges becometh the Church of Christe best.

But S. Paule very wisely remoueth al these thinges. For to place humility, he putteth al men in mind of that most wretched state in the which they had liued before, when through the mociō of the ennemie the diuell they went suppliantly afterydols: that they might the more easily gather by that, that 1. Cor. 1 [...] a.those gyftes ought to be referred, [Page] not to their desertes, but to the infinite mercie of God.

He teacheth them also, that other mē were not to be dispised, the which, although they had not receiued those gyftes, yet were they not vtterly void of the gyftes of God: for so much as no man can confesse our Lord Iesus from his heart but by the benefite of the 1. Cor. 12. a.holie Ghost.

After that he declareth how that the gyfte, which euerie man hath re­ceiued, he hath receiued it, not for him selfe only, but for all other: and that it ought therfore to be imploied to the profit of the vniuersal Church.

Then he sheweth how emongest al the gyftes of God, charitie hath the highest roome and dignitie, that they might thereby vnderstand, that it skil­leth not much, how manie tongues a man knew, or ells how great miracles he was able to worke, but with how great zeale and diligence he furthered [Page 121] the Churche.

Last of al making a comparison be­twene the gyfte of tongues and pro­phecie, he despiseth not tongues, but perferreth prophecying far before the tongues. And these are the places, by the which the Apostle brought the mē of that time frō a certaine kind of light­nes, to the loue of grauity ād modesty.

But that disorder of talking together 1. Cor. 14. f.and hindering one an other in suche sort, that the profitte of teaching was thereby lost, S. Paule tooke it a waie, when he saied. But if any man speake with tongue, let it be done by two, or at the most by three, and let one ex­pounde. For you maie prophecie by one and one, and you maie speake by one and one. And lest anie man might saie, that he was violently moued by the spirite, in such sorte, that he could not refraine him selfe from speaking: the Apostle saith, that the spirit of pro­phetes is subiecte vnto the Proph [...]tes. [Page] Wherin he teacheth them, that it laie in them, whiche were moued by the holy Ghost, to moderate the gyfte of the holy Ghost.

Finally he setteth an order, (of the whiche he had saied much before) by 1. Cor. 14. f.these wordes Endeuour your selues to prophecie, and forbid no man to speke with tongues. But let al things be done honestly and orderly. The Apostle for­biddeth not to vse straunge tongues: but yet he preferreth before tongues the gyfte of prophecie, that is to saie, the declaration of the wil of God, and the edifying of the Church: and he cō ­maūdeth, that al thinges be done with verie good order.

Now there are two pointes to be cōsidered in this place: the one is, that, emongest many things, which maie be done at one time at our pleasure indif­ferently, looke what thinges maie be omitted without offence, are to be o­mitted, when any daunger that maie [Page 122] thervpon ensewe, and the time so re­quireth. And therfore, although in S. Pauls time al mysteries might be com­municated to al men: it foloweth not, that they shold, in our daies (when ther is no like capacity in al mē to cōceiue them) be cōmitted to al men indifferēt­ly without any respecte of personnes.

The other point is, that the meaning of S. Paul in al that disputation was, to keepe downe pride, to set vp charitie, and to cōmaund, that order should be kept. He therfore that geueth occasiō of pride, that slaketh loue and charity, that distourbeth good order, although he seeme to folowe the wordes of S. Paule, yet goeth he directely against the meaning of S. Paul.

These thinges being thus determi­ned, I wil aske you a question: what came into your braines, to be so desi­rous to take al the volumes of the holy Scripture, and without anie necessity, ye with no smal dāger of the vnlerned [Page] people, to cōmit them to euerie iacke­straw to expounde? did you it, to re­streyne the pride of such as are base? No: you haue rather puffed vp their hartes incredibly, causing them to cō ­ceiue a false opinion of wisedome in them selues. Was it done to cause a more feruent charitie emongest them? No: you haue rather forced the weake mindes to fall out within them selues, through your diuers, yea and contrary expositions of the law of God. Was it done to set all thinges in good order? No: you haue rather ouerthrowen all good and aunciēt order. For now eue­ry man is a prophete, euerie man is a shepeheard, euery mā is a doctour, eue­rie man will prate in euerie place very vnsemely of matters of diuinitie, euery mā wil babble what him listeth of the highest Mysteries, the lowest pointe whereof is farre aboue his capacitie. This is by like your prouidence, wher­by you haue taken quite awaie that si­lence [Page 123] which was vsed of olde time in the churches: that bashfulnes, whiche became honest matroues meruelously wel: that modesty, which kept the sim­ple people verie wel in their dewtie. And so it is come to passe, that wheras you pretend to folow the wordes of S. Paul, you bend your selues ernestly against his meaning.

What lacked there, I praie you, in the olde time, that was necessarie to keepe honest heartes in a sobre disci­cipline? Were there not lerned Priests, the which were able to choose out of the holie mysteries so muche as was needful to saluation, and so muche as they might declare vnto the ignorant people without da [...]nger? Were there none to supplie the place of the vnler­ned man, and to answere Amen? Was the sownd and wordes of the Latine tongue so straunge, that no man vn­derstoode it in all your Churches? Needed there the authoritie of the [Page] Apostle to breake vp that disordered confusion of many tongues together, when there was heard, in the commō praiers of the churches, but one kind of speach only, and that by long cu­stome verie well knowen and com­monly vsed?

If the vse of one common tongue ioyneth the mindes of men in one, then was there nothing more agreable to the rule of Christ, then that the ser­uice of God should be openly saied in one only tongue, the which was in all churches of the west part of the world learned in scholes, and practised in the dailie affaires: and nothing lesse con­uenient, then that the seruice is now saied in so manie tongues as there are nations, emongest whome men with­out learning, without witte, without religion take vpon them the office of expounding the holie Scriptures. Wherfore neither was our simplicity so vnprofitable, as you wise men [Page 124] thought it was: neither is your proui­dent warines so wholesome, as your maisters imagined it would haue ben. For out of it are risen errours, and dis­orders, and a false opiuiō of wisedome (whiche is the greatest madnes in the worlde) with manie other discommo­dities.

Then you goe forewarde in the declaration of the doctrine of your Church, saying. We vse at the laying on of handes, the celebration of mariage, the churching of women after child bearing, the visiting of the sicke, and the burying of the dead, solemne and publike seruice set out according to the truth of the ghos­pell. Al the rest you comprehend verie briefely in one sentence, perswading your selfe, that it is sufficiently decla­red, that you are not destitute, neither of Sacramentes, neither of anie other thinges apperteyning to religion.

You confesse plainely after that, that you haue shaken of from you, [Page] the yoke of the high Bishop or Pope: bicause it was heauier, then that either you or your fathers could beare it. Your fathers and auncetours I know, did beare it verie well and with great commēdation: but you [...] graunt, were not able to beare it. For how had it ben lawful for you, to breake violent­ly into the monasteries, to disanull the rules of monkes, to deflower the holy and chast Virgins, to deface like vn­godlie and furious men al orders of re­ligion, to laie your greedy and violent handes vpon the Churche goods ap­pointed to holie vses, to pul [...]owne all monumentes of vertue and godlines, to ouerthrow the auncient Churche, and to botch vp an other at your ple­sure: if this yoke had not ben first taken of from your neckes? You bring in a litle after.

Neither doe we acknowledge anie Bis­shop, but onlie our Lord Iesus Christe, to whom the holy scriptures appoint this pe­culiar [Page 125] honour. O worthie saying, full of wonderful godlines, and contey­ning in it a most euidēt proufe of hea­uenlie life. What shal we doe to these mē, which are so holie, so vtterly void of al care of this present life, that for the desire and loue of the presence of Christ him selfe, they can not abide to see any Vicare of Christ vpō the earth. But lette vs see a litle. This name of Christ, doth it import the dignitie and office of a bishop only, or elles doth it comprehende also the authoritie and maiestie of a King? Surely it can not be denied, that by the worde and mea­ning of Christ, in this name of Christ is conteined the power both of a bishop and of a King. Whie then doe you ac­knowledge any other king, beside our Lord Iesus Christ? Whie are you not so free and earnest, to shake of this yoke that remaineth? Whie suffer you this freedome of your gospell to be hindered through the power and au­thoritie [Page] of a King? Whie doe you not (as it hath ben already attempted in o­ther places, whiche are infected with the selfe same religiō) bend your selues earnestly to make away the maiestie of a King? for as you acknwolege one only high bishop, so is it necessarie to obei one only King. If you thinke it mete to haue an other king in th' earth, as Vicare of that high and almightie king: what is the c [...]use, whie you wold not haue an other bishop as Vicare of that most high and holy bishoppe? But you wil say. We haue bishops, but we wil haue no high bishop: Whie then, it is not the name of a bishop, but of a high bishoppe, that offendeth you. Wherefore thinke you then, that the authoritie of a Kinges power (whiche dowbtles is the highest) is to be borne in England? Are there not magistrates emongest you? Is there not a publike counsel? Haue you not Princes and Lordes? Then take awaie the contro­uersie [Page 126] of the name, and ther are in Eng­land a great many, (as there are also e­mōgest vs) the which haue the autho­rity of kinges, although thei be not cal­led by the name of Kinges. Ymagin [...] therfore, that they were certaine litle kinges. What needed it then, being so many kinges emongest you, that there shuld be any one high or supreme king, to restraine by his authority the other inferiour kings? For if you thinke that this word (high) mai not be born in the dignitie of a bishop: why do you not in like māner detest the name of highnes in the Maiestie of a king? No, say you, it was very wisely prouided, that al the magistrats and Princes in Englād shuld haue one supreme Prince, whom they shuld al reuerēce, and by whose power ād autority they shuld be al restrained: for otherwise, it cannot be chosen, but that there would be stirred vp muche trouble and discord, to the great peril of the whole realme. I thinke you say [Page] truly. And therefore I affirme in like manner, that in the Churche, whiche ought to be alwaies one, it is necessa­rie, that there be one supreme power of a high bishop, whose authoritie all other Bishops should reuerence. For otherwise it must needes be, that there arise much debate and manie pestilent sectes, to the great ruine and decaie of the Churche, and that the Church be brought therby into verie great daun­ger. For if within the space of fourtie yeares, sence a great peece of Ger­manie, and afterwardes England fel from the Bishop of Rome, so many s [...] ­ditions haue risen emongest the Prin­ces of your Religion, that they cā not possibly agree, neither with other mē, neither yet within them selues: what ende, thinke you, wil ensew, in case al Christendome (the which God forbid) being thereunto procured and moued by your diligence and vnreasonable meanes, should rebel with the like out­rage [Page 127] and madnes? It remaineth there­fore, that, as in England there is one supreme power, whiche comprehen­d [...]th al other Princes vnderneth it: so there be also in the Churche one su­preme authoritie, the whiche al other inferiour powers must willingly and diligently obeie. For otherwise it is not possible, that the crewel tem­pestes risen in the Churche should e­uer be slaked, or the flames of discord quenched, or the ciuile warres ended. Now, for so much as Christ is the au­thour of peace: Whosoeuer wil saie, that they wil haue but one only bishop which is our Lord Iesus Christe, and by the religious pretēce of this worde, wil open a gap to so manie opinions, and to so much pestilent dissensiō: thei are lyers. No, they doe rather fight a­gainst Christ, and worshippe Satan the authour of debate and discorde. But contrarie wise, such as honour and re­uerence the bishoppe of Rome as the [Page] Vicare of Christ, for that respect only, bicause he is the lieutenant of Christ in the earth: they doe in deede ac­knowledge only Christ to be the high Priest.

And yet you saie, that, by this your rebellion and contempte, you doe not cut and māgle the coate of Christ, but only geue a touch at the Bishop of Romes cloke. And by and by after you bring in these wordes. Neither doe we laie open the waie, as you saie, to sedition, but we doe dāme vp the path, the▪ which goeth downe, through his lic [...]ntious lead, to the great decaie of good manners. Of this lead, and of your notable reproch I haue spokē before, with as much mo­destie, as the matter would suffer me. But of this your base, vile, and shame­lesse boldnes, when you say, that you haue not rent and torne the coate of Christ, but rather, that you haue, by this your most wicked rebellion, made a goodlie prouision, that good man­ners [Page 128] should not decaie, I can not wel tel what to say to you. Dare you, seing euerie where, as you doe, that there are so many diuisions of pestilēt sectes, with so much debate and discord: that there is no certaine faith emōgest you, no agreemēt in Religiō: that your con­fessiōs are changed almost euerie day, your beleefes and Creedes corrected: that the olde places of doctrine are dis­anulled, and new set vp: that manifold sectes ariseth daily, and the old Church is diuided in many parts: how dare you, I say, report, that this your falling from the Church hath not māgled the coate of Christe? When you see with your eyes, that pride, arrogancie, disobe­dience, stubbernes, saucie talke, slaun­derous report, fleshlie pleasure, naugh­tines, dishonesty, tumult and sedition goeth vp and downe freely and vncō ­trolled, wheresouer your maisters put their foote: with what face dare you say, that you haue after this rebellion [Page] set the manners of men in good and seemelie ordre? The thing it selfe spea­keth, dailie examples declare, neither doe the open assises, no neither secret parlars hold their peace.

But let vs now see, howe worship­fully you confute that my discourse as touching the Monarchie of the holie Church. You say. In the best time of the Church, there was one God and one faith. That is true. But now neither is there one God, nor one faith emongest the ministers of your gospel. For one offe­reth vp diuine honour to pleasure, an other to madnes: some to the bealie, and some to railing. Luther hath one faith, Bucer an other, Zwinglius hath one, and Caluin an other. And yet you say.

Peter had his Prouince, Paule had his, and Iames his, and other had other Pro­uinces. And yet did not this separation of their persons disioine the vnitie of their saith. What conclude you then? maie [Page 129] it be gathered by these things, that you saye, that Peter, when he was resident in one Prouince, had no preeminence ouer the rest of the Apostles? That is not wel cōcluded of these things, that you haue spoken. For now euery Bis­shoppe hath his Prouince, and the Bis­shop of Rome hath his. And yet are we all subiect vnto him by the lawe of God. It foloweth.

In processe of time, many of the Bishops of Rome, were Martyrs, and were sacri­ficed vnto God by prophane and vngodlie Princes: but Crownes had they none, vn­lesse it were the Crownes of Martyrdome. This extraordinarie soueraintie of Pope­dome, they knew not. Yes M. Haddon, it is wel knowen, that the most blessed Princes and soueraignes of the Church of Rome them selues, to witte, Cle­ment, and Euaristus, and Lucius, and Marcellus, and Pius, the which attey­ned the Croune of Martyrdome with very great glory, whom neither ambi­tion, [Page] nor any other vnlauful desire mo­ued to seke for that supreme honoure: do beare witnes against you. For their writinges declare plainely, that their iudgement was, that the soueraintie of the vniuersal Churche, was euer in the Church of Rome. What should I here reherse Ireneus, Augustine, and al other holy Fathers? What shoulde I here vnfolde the memorie of al the an­tiquitie? Of the new writers reade, if it please you, Eckius, the B. of Roche­ster, Cocleus, Pighius, and such other most excellēt men both for vertue and learning, and you shall see, how igno­rant you are in this mater of the supre­macie. They dispute and contend, not with reprochful wordes, not with lies not with impudēcy: but with testimo­nies of the holie Scriptures, but with the authorities of the holy Fathers, but with examples of the vnspotted anti­quitie: and they presse their aduersa­ries, and proue them to be not onely [Page 130] wicked felowes, but also very mad and frantike mē. But how is it possible, that you should vnderstand these thinges? What time could you spend in the stu­die of Diuinitie, being a mā alwaies cō ­uersant in the law court, and hindered with many affaires? And so, me thin­keth, that you are not so muche to be blamed, as your maisters, the whiche haue nouseled you in so mani errours. How be it you are also to be blamed for two points. The first is lightnes, for that you haue so lightly geuen credite to naughty mē. The other is impudēcy, for that you haue so rashly auouched thinges, that you neuer read. Tel me, I pray you, where haue you read, that Gregorie did abandone this supreame dignitie of the B. of Rome? And yet you put it in your oratiō affirming it ful stoutly, and are neuer a whit ashamed of your lying. At the length you con­clude thus. Wherfore if the best state of the church, was without this Monarchy: [Page] may also lack it ful wel: yea we ought to lacke it, not only bicause it is expressely forbidden by the Gospel, but also bicause it standeth wel with reason. What a rash­nes and impudencie is this in you, to conclude an Argument after this sorte without al reason? You must bring in your conclusion vpon thinges, that are true, knowen, and agreed vppon, not vppon thinges that are false and not graunted. If you be ignorant in this, you are a very dolt: if you know it, and yet will goe about to conclude your argument vpon false propositiōs, with­out any proufe going before: you are to be taken as a very shamelesse sophi­ster. For emongest the guyles and sub­tilties, which the babling sophisters are wonte to vse, this is accounted for one of the first, to goe aboute to conclude what them listeth, vppon thinges, that are not true, neither graunted, neither agreed vppon. If the best state of the Church, saie you, was without this Mo­narchie, [Page 131] we may also lacke it full well. What, if the best state of the Churche was neuer without this Monarchie, may you then lacke it? I thinke not. If it be then proued by writinges and records, yea and by the ful agreement of al the holy Fathers, that the best state of the Church was neuer without this Monarchie: if you are able, neither to cōfute the authorities, neither to make any good proufe for your selfe, neither to bring any sure ground of antiquitie, but only in bare wordes to saie, what ye list: doe you not see, that all you [...] talke is fainte and weake, and that it is pitifully shaken and battred of it selfe without gonneshotte? And yet, as though you had already contriued the whol matter according to your hearts desire; you say moreouer: Yea we ought to l [...]okd it. How proue you, that it is of du [...]tie? What fruict can you shew of this your wicked rebellion? What light haue you shewed to the worlde [Page] by this your outrage and madnesse so wonderfull, that you may wel say, that you haue discharged your duetie and office commendably.

Nowe, whereas you say, that the Gospel forbiddeth it expresly, you de­clare the verie true cause of all your doinges. For it seemeth, that you are minded to doe that onely, that the Gospell of Christe forbiddeth you to doe. How be it you woulde not saie so, but rather that you do by the war­rant of the Gospel refuse the authority of the B. of Rome. Suche is your elo­quence, that you are not able marlie times, to vtter your owne meaning. But by what testimonie of the Gospel, by what authority haue you proued it? Bring foorth the place, presse vs with the wordes, cōuince vs with the com­maundement, shew where the Gospel hath forbidden, not darkely, but by ex­presse and plaine words, that we shuld not acknowledge any one man as the high Vicare of Christ in the earth.

[Page 132] You saie moreouer, that it standeth with reason: whereas you neuer she­wed before, how reason and this your lewdnes may stande together. And yet, as though you had moste plainely and inuincibly proued the matter: you do not only cōclude veri much besides the purpose, but also vaūt your self be­yond al modestie. Some il hap come to that felow your Schoolemaister, that brought you vp so il. It is like, he toke vpon him to make you eloquent: and he made you not only a babe, but also an vntoward and a [...] Wherfore I would geue you [...] to take an action against him, to make him repaie his waiges, that he tooke of you. For you bestowed your time ve­ry il with him, the which might haue ben better spent in drawing out writes and processes in the Law. But let vs see, what reason you bring. You saie. Neither can the head so far frō the mē ­bers disagree cōueniently. What are you [Page] Conueniē ­ter dis [...]i­dere. are M. Haddons vvords in Latine. yet to learne to speake Latine? What meane you by this? What is to disa­gree conuenientlie? For the thing that is in it selfe conuenient, is nothing disa­greeable. Whereas you saie therfore, that a thing doth disagree conuenient­ly, you speake not pure and cleane La­tine, but you vse a monstruouse kinde of Latine speache. For this cause I am not ashamed to confesse so often, that I doe not vnderstand, what you saie. I suspect, you would saie in this place, that it is not possible, that the heade should [...] be ioyned vnto the mem­bers being so farre a sunder. If you say so, you are much deceiued, if you be­leue that the cōiunction of the church consisteth in the nighnes of places, and not in the consent of faith, and agree­ment in one Religion. But if you doe comprise vnder this disordered kinde of speach, some other more secret my­sterie: When you haue exponnded your self, then peraduenture I wil an­swere [Page 133] you. You say afterward. Espe­cially for somuch as this Monarchie or only soueraintie, for the which you laboure so much, we haue it at hand at home with vs in Englande, so that we neede not to seeke it abroad. It is not my part to re­hearse al your woordes after you, like a childe. But I will aske you this one thing, what only power or souerainty is that? We haue, say you, the abso­lute authoritie of a Kinges Maiestie, wherein is conteined fully and wholly the Princelie estate of our common weale. What, would you also, that the supreme authoritie of the Church should be subiect vnto this Kingly Ma­iestie, as you saie? For no man euer said, that your common weale ought to be gouerned by the authoritie of the Bishop of Rome, in matters cōcerning the state of your ciuile affaires: but on­ly, that the Churche of Englande can not refuse by any means without great offence the authority of the Bishop of [Page] Rome. For this doe we contend and, as you saie, labour so earnestly. This is that, which you saie is nothing neces­sarie: for so much as the Kinges Maie­stie hath an absolute authoritie emon­gest you, and therefore you neede not seeke any other abroad. You say ther­fore expressely, that your Quene doth rightfully take vpon her the gouerne­ment of Englande in spiritual matters. And the more hardelie to presse me therewithal, you reason with me after this forte. But surely this seemeth vnto you, a thing not to be borne. And in this place you are so chaused, that you laie Sa­crilege vnto Princes charges, bicause thei wil rule the lawes of the Church▪ and vn­reuerently handle holy thinges. Anon after, you counsell me like a sage and graue man, that I shoulde tempre my choler, saying vnto mee. O Maister Ierome be not ouer much disquieted. Such great choler and wrath is not seemely in a Philosopher. In this place, M. Waul­ter, [Page 134] if you dally, you dally very stalely. If you speake in earnest, it is nothing true that you saie. Neither was it an­gre (whiche is a sodaine rage stirred through the opinion conceiued of dis­honestie) that could haue moued me to write those my letters, for so muche as I was neuer prouoked to displeasure with so much as one rough worde of any English man: but it was the loue of most holy Religion, and the good wil I beare towards the Quene, that moued me to send those letters, and to aduer­tise her to eschew the danger that hanged ouer her and her Realme. Neither is there any token of anger to be seene in my talke, excepte you will cal a iust and lamentable complaint of the state of our moste vnhappie time, angre. But that that foloweth, howe pretily it was spoken? Take breath a little. As thoughe you had with this your wonderfull force of talke so disquieted me, that I coulde not take my breath. [Page] Then that other saying of yours, what a pleasante grace it hath: Come to your selfe againe. This is a foule rebuke. For it seemeth to M. Haddon a wise man, whose iudgement was alwaies simple, pure, and vncorrupted, that I am out of my wittes. Or els he would neuer warne me, to come to my selfe againe. You saie afterwardes. You shall see all shal be wel. That do I loke for in ded [...]: how be it I am sore afraid, left you be­ing an eloquence man and wonderfull in perswading▪ may force me to beleue thinges, that are not proued vnto me. Yet I looke for your reason, by the which you wil proue, that it is lawfull for your Quene to meddle in Ecclesia­stical matters, and to lai [...] suche lawes vpon Churches, as her listeth. What saie you Sir? The Kinges Maiestie, saie you, maistereth al persones in England. What els? So doth the French King the French men, and the Scottish King the Scottes. I commend your briefe­nes [Page 135] in reasoning. For you conclude al in one worde, as often as you list, and that meruelouse wittily. But yet you take such thinges, as are neither true, neither of force to conclude those thinges, that you would proue. For first of all, the gouernement of a King is not violent, neither tyrannical: and suche as he hath taken vppon him to mainteine▪ like a louing Father, he doth not maister them like seruaūts: neither doth he imploye his regimente to his owne commoditie, but to the safety of his subiectes. It is therefore false, that he doth maister them, except he wold rather be accounted a tyranne, then a King. Moreouer, admit it were true, yet doth it not folow, that he doth go­uerne them in al matters. That there­fore, that you should haue proued, you lai [...] for a ground, as though it were al­redy proued and graūted: the which is one of the gretest faults, that mai be in a disputer. Last of al, neither doth the [Page] french King gouerne the french men in spiritual matters, neither the Scotish Kinge the Scottes: and if he doe (the which is nothīg true) then doth he not his owne office, but vsurpeth an other mans. Yet you say. But the Quene put­teth not her hand vnto holie thinges. Why so, I pray you, M, Haddon? Is it bicause she thinketh it not lawful? Or els bicause she wil not? If she thinke, that it is not lawfull, then doth shee speake directely against you. If she be occupied with other affairs, and ther­fore committeth holie thinges to men of the basest sort, shee doth otherwise then her estate requireth. For she thin­keth, that there is some other thing to be preferred before holie things. You say. The ciuile affaires are cōmitted to the ciuile magistrates, the Church matters to the Bishops. What Bishops meane you? Are they those Bishops, that you haue violētly thrust out of their Bishopriks, and cast into the iayles? or els are they [Page 136] suche as you haue caught vppe in the streates, and frō the alebēches, and haue placed thē in the roome of those most holibishops? O what an honorable presence of Bishops is that, for all subiects to reuerence, and al il men to be afraid of? But I would faine learne of you, what goodly glosse of vertue was that, that moued you to place those base felowes in this roome and dignitie? Was it their meruelouse and chast life, which you can not abide? Was it the knowledge of holie Scriptures, the which thei had learned in tauernes, or in scholes, where perhappes they had ben Maisters? Was it their wonderful eloquence, where with thei were able to withdrawe the cōmon people from licentious liuing to continency, which they them selues abhorre? For it is to be thought, that they that depriued those godlie and learned Bishoppes of al their dignities, would not haue done such wrong vnto the vertuous men: [Page] vnlesse they had meant to set other in their places, that did very farre excede them in all godlines, learning and elo­quence.

But I wold demaūd one thing of you: if they be so holi, so lerned, and so elo­quēt, wherfore did you not cōmit vn­to them aboue all other this care and charge to write against me? Wherfore would you betray to the worlde your owne ignoaāce and babishn [...]sse? Was there suche a scarcity of learned Bis­shops, that you must needes take vpon you a charge that was none of yours, no nor seemely for you to medle in? For, to mainteine Religion, appertei­neth to a Bishop, not to a man, that is to urmoiled in the suites and questions of the ciuile Law. If they did not ex­cel in such vertues and qualities as are to be required in Bishops, what a fro­warde malice was that to thrust out the good Bishops, and to put such base felowes in their roomes and dignities? [Page 137] You politike wise man, doe you not see that that common weale is neere to vtter ruine and decaie, wherin such honours as are dewe to honestie and vertue are geauen to base varlettes? But be it, that they had ben promoted to this honour for their excellent qua­lities (for I can not wel gesse the truth of the matter: and it maie be that thei were, before thei came to that digni­tie, put to schoole to Bucere or els to your Martyr:) but sir, I demaunde of you, by what right or iustice was it done? Howbeit as touching iustice you haue already satisfied me, when you affirmed, that within the cōpasse of the Queenes Maiesties authoritie is conteined, what so euer concerneth God or man. But yet I pray you tell me, with what ceremonie, with what solemnitie, with what Religion was it done? Who laied handes on them? who cōsecrated them? I would know what holines and puritie you vsed in [Page] the doing of it. For it is like, that such fine and deintie felowes as you are, were offended with our ceremonies, (the which peraduēture might seeme vnto you very stale and old) and there­fore you deuised other much trimmer then oures, the whyche you haue brought not neere, but, as you terme it, exceding neere to the very paterne of the gospel.

You say afterward, that the Church matters are ordered by the bishops: but when there i [...] ought to be decreed, the di­uines do determine it. It is euident, that you cal thē diuines, who were brought vp vnder Bucer or Caluin. Why then haue you diminished the right of bis­shops? for it perteineth to the bishops to determine: the diuines haue no more to doe, but only to assist the bishoppes with their aduise. But you in geauing ouer the right of the bishops to the di­uines, declare, that your bishops are no diuines. Your bishops therfore are (as [Page 138] the common report is) not only poore scrapers and base felowes, but also vt­terly ignorant in the holie Scriptures. And menne say, that the principall cause whie they are chosen, is, that they muste content them selues with some scantling of their reuenewes, and leaue the rest to be rifled of you vnder pretence of the Queenes escheker. If this be not true, you muste not blame me, a man (as you say your selfe) vnac­queinted in the affaires of Englād: but the false report of your il willers. Yet, this I warne you, that you and such as you are, doe susteine the great dint of this infamie. For when you choose suche Bishops, you make menne su­specte, that you are greedie and coue­teous.

You conclude at the length, that both the administratiō of the bishops, and decrees of the diuines are autho­rised by the confirmation of the Que­nes Maiestie. Whie then, if there [Page] shalbe anie thing done by the bishops, or els determined by the diuines, that is not for the Queenes profitte, that shal not be ratified.

Here you speake darkely, I can not tel what, of the Kinges of Israel, as though the Priestes in olde time had done al thinges, that concerned reli­gion, after the prescribed ordre of kin­ges: the which is false. You say after­ward. Then the gospel succeding and di­uiding these powers, in the first place it setteth the authoritie of Kinges, and vn­der it other powers by the authoritie of Peter and Paule, whose names you abuse to set vp the kingdom of the sea of Rome. Flatterie.O what a plague and destruction of common weales, what a whirle wind and tempest to your most flourishing Ilād, what an vtter ruine and decaie of al kingdomes and peoples is this, that is comprised vnder the naughtines, au­dacitie, crueltie, and coueteousnes of flatterers? What wild beast can anie [Page 139] man deuise in the worlde more hor­rible and crewel, then it is? For what so euer the pleasure of Kinges stan­deth vnto, be it neuer so wicked, hei­nouse and vngodly, be it not only hurt­ful to the common weale, but also cō ­trarie to al good and godly ordre: it is made forthwith by those clawbackes, whome thei cal to their counsel, to be dewtiful, iust, commēdable, religious, most wholesome to the cōmon weale, and most acceptable to God. The which thing is wel knowen to haue chaunced vnto king Henry, who was vntil that time both for his vertue, wit, and deedes a moste noble and renow­med Prince. For when as the king had cōceiued an earnest loue, and also an earnest displeasure, and was desirous both to satisfie his loue, and also to re­uēge the displeasure taken of the Pope (who forbad the new mariage) he was brought, by the persuasion and autho­ritie of a certaine wicked man, to be­leeue, [Page] that he was suprem head of al the Churches that are within the realme of England. This thing was the vn­doing of the bishop of Rochester, and More, and of other holie mē, that abid extreme punishments: if a most hono­rable death constantly suffred for the glory of Christ and establishing of reli­gion may be called an vndoing. From hence as out of a flou [...]dgate issued so many pestilent opiniōs, such a broile of sectes and heresies, suche outrages of lewd felowes into the state of the Church of Englād, to the great decay of the auncient custome.

But what was the place, the which that most vile corrupter would abuse to proue it? Submit your selues, saith S. 1. Pet. [...]. c.Peter, to euery wordly wight for gods sake, whether it be to the King, as to the more excellēt personage, or els to the rulers, as sent frō God, for the pu­nishment of malefactours, and cōmen­dation of good men▪ what other thing [Page 140] doth S. Peter in these words but only cut of al occasion of disordre and out­rage? for he would not, that, by the pretensed name of the libertie of the gospel, the cōmon weale should be dis­ordered, or the society of men by ciuil policie gathered together be dissolued. And therfore doth he bind al Christiā men to the lawes and ordinaunces of menne, so that they be not against the lawe of God. He commaundeth ser­uantes to obey their maisters, be they neuer so crewel: womē to obey their husbandes: husbandes to honour their wiues: children to obei their parentes▪ parentes to loue their children, and to prouide for their bringing vppe and mayntenaunce. Finally the holie A­postle commaundeth, that ordre both in commaunding and obeying be kept (whether it be publike or priuat) with­out any grudging or pretending of ex­cessiue libertie. The which ordre was to be kept of Christian men with so [Page] much the more diligence, as it was cō ­uenient, that their vertue should shine more then the vertue of other menne. Ro. 13. a.The selfe same thing doth S. Paule, when he warneth vs to submitte our selues to the magistrates, and to obey the lawful cōmaundementes of Prin­ces. He teacheth maisters and ser­uantes, parents and childrē, housbands and wiues the very same lessons.

I demaund now of you, what good­ly pregnant wit is this of yours, or ra­ther of them that brought you into so great an errour: that they would picke such a meaning, as you speake of, out of these words of S. Peter? Did this word, More excellent, moue you to doe▪ it? Surely that were a manifest token of a verie great folie, and extreme madnes. For so do we saie in common sp [...]ach; that that man doth excell in nobilitie, or is More excellent, whiche is in deede verie noble, although he be not of all other moste noble. So [Page 141] doe we saie also, that a man excel­leth, or is More excellent then other, in vertue, or learning or authoritie, the which passeth other in these qualities, although he passe not al the worlde in them. The selfe same signification and meaning hath the Greeke word [...] and such is the vse of it. Moreouer when we saie, that an [...] man excelleth in some one thing, we doe not by and by in so saying yeald, that he doth ex­cel in al thinges: but in that thing only, whereof we spake. If mention were made of the ciuile law, and we would saie, that M. Waulter Haddon did ex­cel in the knowledge of the ciuile law▪ we did not in so saying geaue him au­thoritie to expounde the holie Scrip­tures, wherein he is altogether igno­rant.

I woulde now demaunde of you, what matter was S. Peter about, when he said that the king was the more ex­cellent personage? Was he about the [Page] gouernment of Churches, or thinges apperteining to religiō? No doubtles, but abowte ciuile gouernement, the which he would not haue to be disor­dered by anie sedition.

What goeth S. Paul about, when he commaundeth vs to submit our selues to all powers? The selfe same thing, Rom. 13. a.that S. Peter doth. And to confirme that, he sheweth that all power is or­deined and appointed by God. And to teache vs, that this is our bownden dewtie by the law of God, he saieth: Geaue therfore to al men their dewe. Tribute, to whome you owne tribute: custume, to whom you owe custume: feare, to whome feare is dewe: and ho­nour, to whom honour apperteineth. It liketh not the Apostles to haue anie sedition or broile in the cōmon weale; or anie thing that maie distourbe the peace and good order. And therfore, although Princes were at that time verie ill affected towardes the moste [Page 142] holie ordinaūces of Christ: yet in mat­ters apperteining to the ciuile gouern­ment, they cōmaund al Christian men, not only to obey their Princes, but also to make their hūble praiers vnto God 1. Tim. 2. afor their good estate. S. Peter therfore gaue not vnto the king, in calling him more excellent, the supreme autho­ritie in the Church: (neither did anie man euer dreame of▪ that besides you) but he graunted vnto him the supreme power in the ciuile gouernment.

Tel me, I praie you, who helde the kingdome at that time, when S. Peter wrote these thinges? either it was Ca­ius, or Claudius, or Nero. For Tiberius (which was also a naughtie and vniust man, as we maie coniecture) was dead before. Is this your iudgement then M. Haddon, that Peter and Paul did com­maunde, that the President of the Churche shoulde doe nothing, but by order of Caius, or Claudius, or Ne­ro: that he should reteine such Priestes [Page] onlie, as they wuld haue and put away the rest, if it liked the emperour: that he should, if there chaunced any diffi­cultie or hard question in the Church, referre it to Cesar: or that (to be short) he should minister all the ceremonies and sacramentes of our religion accor­ding to Nero his pleasure? If these thinges be voied of al wit and reason, then is that your opinion, whervpon these thinges doe necessaliy folowe, suche, that if you would studie for it, you can not deuise anie thing more foolish and vnreasonable.

But you will saie, that this sentence of S. Peter perteineth not to suche Princes as are enemies to the faith of Christ, but only to Christian Princes. If you saie so, then are you of this mind, that S. Peter gaue this cōmaun­dement to the Christians, that, so long as such men reigned, as were not well affected towardes the name of Christ, they shoulde not acknowledge their [Page 143] authority, they should not regard their officers and magistrates, they shoulde despise their lawes, they shoulde like rebelles disorder the peace and tran­quillitie of the common weale. The which it were a verie great madnes to speake. For then to what pourpose should S. Peter bring in this sentence 1. Pet. 2. c.afterward. That you maie, saieth he, by well doing▪ put the ignorance of foolish men to silēce. Doutlesse, if they had not obeied vngodlie Princes, no man would haue ben put to silence by them: but euerie man would haue set vpon them, (and that for their desert) as vpon peace breakers and enemies to al good order.

If then neither the signification of the word requireth it, neither wil rea­son beare it, neither the comely diui­sion of the orders ecclesiasticall and temporal by anie meanes in the world suffer it, that kinges should beare anie swaie in the Church: what a straunge [Page] kind of flatterie was this in you, to yeld vnto kinges a full power and su­preme authoritie in Churches? But what a shameles part is that in you, to affirme by the authoritie of S. Peter and Paul, that the authoritie of kinges is aboue al other authorities? I graunt you, that kinges are by the authoritie of S. Peter set ouer al rulers and gouer­ners in the ciuile gouernemēt: but not ouer things apperteining to religiō, not ouer the holi ordināces of the church, not ouer the sacramentes and seruice made to appease the wrath of God.

And whereas you saie, that we doe abuse th' authority of S. Peter and Paul to set vp the kingdome of the sea of Rome, it is false. For we leane to the wordes of Christ, when we defend the authoritie of the bishop of Rome: and who so euer doth violently wrest the most plaine woordes of Christe, we iudge him to be a presumptuous felow, we take him for an vnreasonable, [Page 144] naughtie and wicked persone. But be­fore I procede vnto other matters, I thinke it expedient briefely to signifie these thinges vnto you.

Laie men plagued of God for taking vpō them the office of Priests. Num. 16. a Dathan and Abiron, for vsing vio­lence towardes the Priestes of God, were with a terrible noise and sodeine earthquake deuowred with all the cō ­panie of their wicked complices. Core in like manner with the rest of his con­spiracie, for taking vpō them impudēt­ly and wickedly the office of Priestes, 2. Re. 6▪ a.were cōsumed with sodeine fier. Oza, by cause he presumed a litle to staie vp with his hād the Ark of promise being like to fall, was sodeinly stryken dead. Ozias the king, by cause he wold haue 2. Paral▪ 26. d. Daniel. 5▪ g. vsurped the office of a Priest, was dissi­gured with the lepry. Balsesar the king of Babilō, bicause he tooke the vessels that were appointed to holie vses, and did vse them to riot ād bāket in, lost in one night his kingdome, his riches, and his life. But you, neither doe you feare [Page] the euerlasting goulfe of hell, neither doe you tremble at the thunder and fier of Gods wrath, neither are you a­fraied of any punishment dewe vnto your rash presumpteousnes, neither do you regard the leprie of perpetual in­famie, neither doe you take anie care, lest ye be robbed and spoiled of the ri­ches of the euerlasting kingdome to­gether with the losse of your wordlie dignitie, and temporal life.

But all these thinges not withstan­ding, you leaue not to raile at the Po­pes dignitie. What (a mischiefe) hatred is this towardes the Pope, so crewell and so bitter, that you repete one thing so often? You say thus. But you contend not only for the Popes sc [...]ptre, but also for his holy ordinaunces and Decrees▪ (as you esteeme them) by the decaie whereof you thinke that all feare is vanished a­waie out of mens heartes. This is true. For being once agreed that the autho­ritie of the Pope is good and godly: it [Page 145] foloweth, that we must obey his ordi­naunces and lawes. For as Kinges, to whome God hath cōmitted the ciuile gouernement in the common weale, not contenting them selues with the holie scriptures, suche as concerne the state of the cōmon weale (for so much as al things that maie happen in diuers kindes of cōmon weales, could not be comprised in them) haue made other statutes and lawes, the which all men are bownd to obey by the law of God: so the Bishops of Rome, to whome is committed the rule and gouernement of the vniuersal Church (although you swel and burst at it) doe make decrees, not only by word, but also in writing, as the times require: the which all we, that beare the name of Christian men, are bownd to obserue and keepe.

As for the feare, the whiche, I saied, was taken quite awaie by you, I doe impute it, not only to the de­caie of the Canon lawe, but muche [Page] more to the neclecting and despising of the lawe of God. For I saie, that thrugh the decrees of Luther the fear of Goddes iudgement and euerlasting damnation is vtterly quenched. I haue heard, saie you, that verie manie men haue ben by the Canons excedingly en­ritched: but I haue not heard, that manie haue ben instructed in the feare of God. What M. Haddon? Such as folow the studie of the ciuile lawe, are they al in­structed in the feare of God? No truly. And yet you woulde not haue the whole ciuile lawe to be burned for that. For the ordinaunces of Princes are not to be disanulled for the malice and crafte of the interpretours: but the lewdnes of such as turne all lawes to their owne gaine and aduantage were most seuerely to be restreined. And yet you saie, that you doe obserue the decrees of Popes, bicause they are not a litle profitable. The whiche thing [Page 146] truly I meruaile muche at, for two cawses. First, bicause in this pointe you dissent from the most holie fa­ther Luther, who, as you saie, was sent from heauen. For he burned all the Popes decrees in suche sorte, that he left not one of them. Then, bi­cause all your trade so dependeth of heauen, that you esteeme all wordlie thinges no better woorth, but to be cast awaie.

Whereas you saie, that I doe ac­cuse your Doctours, bicause they haue cawsed a certaine vnrestreined libertie in suche as they teache: I graunt I am yet of that opinion, and howe true it is, I will declare here­after.

You complaine afterward, that I mocke those your holie men. Your woordes are these. I woulde haue you to remembre, what your great Maister of eloquēce wrote sometime verie wise­ly: that it is an vngodlie costume to daly [Page] against the Gods, whether it be done in earnest or in sport. You are to supersti­tious, M. Haddon, and I see now, that Luther is a holie God with you, and that you praie, that Bucer wil be mer­cifull vnto you, and that you thinke, that you must appease with sacrifice the maiestie of your Martyr also. For these men do you esteeme as Goddes: and therefore I looke when you will erecte aulters vnto them. For els, what other Goddes did I euer iest at? Then by like these are the Goddes, of whose displeasure you warne me to beware. But whereas you saie, that I do vse ie­sting wordes againste Christe, in that point you folow your maisters, which are in the mysterie of lying very hand­some craftesmen.

You chalenge me to dispute, a thing ful vnseemelie for your persone. For you vnderstād not the scriptures, no, Luther him selfe could not, (being, as he was, altogether blinded in vice and [Page 147] wickednes) discerne, what great light was in them. And this is the cause why he is caried to and fro, so diuersly, so dowbtfully, and so vncertanly, that to this daie no man in the world is able to saie for certaine: this was his opinion. For at one time he affirmeth, that all standeth in only faith: and he bringeth me in such a faith, as, if it be once re­ceued, al good works are put to flight. At an other time being ouercome by the very force of truth it selfe, and ad­uertised by his frindes to auoid the en­uie of men, he seeketh out the good works againe. I would you wold read ouer my bookes of Iustification: and I iudge, you should not neede to be to seeke in anie point, concerning this matter, which you now speake of.

We beleeue, saie you, the gospel. You do wel. But the deuils beleeue also and quake for feare. But what saieth the gospel? That there is no dāger, saie you, of damnation to them, that are grassed in Rom, 8. a.[Page] Christ: that liue not according to the flesh but according to the spirit. For I wil not goe farre from the verie woordes of the holie scriptures, lest I maie seeme in some point to deale not vprightly. That see­meth in deede, M. Haddon, to be the propertie of a perfect lawier, to main­teine the writen word of the law, and to goe sometimes directely against the meaning of the lawe. But, I praie you, what words are those, the which you Ro. 3. dmight in no wise leaue out? S. Paul, say you, after a long and earnest disputation concludeth, that he thought, that we are iustified by faith without the woorkes of the law. What S. Paul hath concluded, I know very wel: but what you wold conclude, I doe not yet perfectely vn­derstand. We must needes yeld, saie you: we are not able to discredite the gospell. But yet we must take that withal out of the selfe same S. Paul: faith that worketh Galat. 5. a by charitie. If we doe keepe these thinges ioyned together: you maie not separate [Page 148] them, and so reason againste an errour, whiche hath none other author besides your owne selfe. By these your wordes I doe coniecture, M. Haddon, that your opiniō is, wheras S. Paul saieth, that no man is iustified by workes, and againe, that we must kepe that faith that wor­keth by charity: (although these things maie seeme to disagree the one with the other) yet that we maie not in anie wise depart from the verie wordes of the gospel. And how so euer the ioy­ning together of these thinges maie seeme to be a hard matter: yet for so much as S. Paul is the authour of it, it were a presumpteous acte to go about to separate what S. Paul hath ioyned.

But I am of a cōtrary opiniō, that this only argumēt is sufficient to proue, that S. Paul neuer spake these thīgs, bicause they hāg not together. For what thing standeth better together and is more agreable, then the reasoning and do­ctrine of S. Paul? And nothing is lesse [Page] agreable then this: that iustice is not geauen without that faith, that woor­keth by charitie: and, that no man can Onlie faith iusti­fieth not.be iustified by works. Not the hearers of the law, saieth S. Paul, but the doers Rom. 2. b.of the law, they shal be iustified. They therfore that doe the thing, that is cō ­maunded in the law, by the authoritie of S. Paul are iust before God. If that be true, what is more cōtrary to the mea­ning of S. Paul, then to saie, that no mā is made iust by workes? You therfore knit those things together, that cānot be ioyned. But I would stand in it, and proue by this reason only, if I had none other, that S. Paul wold neuer speak it.

Whereas you saie, that I doe fight or contend against an errour, it soundeth to my commendacion. For what good­lier thing can I doe, them to plucke vp pestilent opinions by the roote?

But when you bring in vpō this, that of the selfe same errour, which I con­tēd against, ther is none other authour [Page 149] bisides myne owne selfe, we had nede of Oedipus to expound it. You haue a meruelous liking in darke sayinges. Heard you it euer reported, that I should say, that the workes of holie menne were defiled and spotted with synne, and that for this cause no man could atteine iustice by holy workes? This is the errour whiche I doe stand against. But you wil not once say so, and yet you are so babish, that you can not vtter, what you thinke. But the fambling of your tongue we wil lette passe, and consider howe fowly you are ouerseene in weightie matters.

You saie, that woorkes are not a­uaileable to iustification, and yet, you say, that workes are not to be despised, for so much as we haue both these o­pinions grounded vpon the authoritie of S. Paul. The principal deuisours and Archbuylders of your newe gospell, whome you worshippe as Goddes, of whome you learned these mysteries, [Page] went further then so, and said plainly, Luthers most dā ­nable do­ctrine touching Workes.that al the workes, the which holy mē doe, are not only vnprofitable, but al­so vncleane and spotted through the contagion of originall synne. For they doe not beleeue, that originall or en­graffed synne, the whiche we tooke from the spring, is quite blotted out in the baptisme of life: but that it grow­eth still, and casteth out such a deale of vncleane vice, that all the doinges of holy men, although thei be done by the mocion and instincte of the holie Ghost, yea and referred to the glorie of Christ, yet they are deadlie synnes, and deserue of iustice the punishment of euerlasting damnation, without the great goodnes and mercie of Christ. If it be but litle ciuilitie, as you saie, (and as yt pleaseth your great lawier to write also) to iudge of a lawe, vnlesse it be thoroughly weighed and consi­dered: reade diligently the bookes of Luther, Melanchthon, Caluine, and [Page 150] other your learned men, and you shall see, that this was their opinion, or ra­ther that the whole somme of the do­ctrine, whiche they professed, stoode vpon this opinion, that they condem­ned al workes as wicked and synfull.

You see here an extreme despera­tion of atteining vnto iustice. For if no man can be iust, but he only that kee­peth the law, as S. Paule saith: if not he Rom. 2. b. Mat. 7. 6.that saith Lord, Lord, shal enter into the kingdome of heauen, as our Lord him selfe declareth plainely, but he that doth the wil of the Father: if iu­stice, as the Prophetes witnesse, is a shunning of all vices, and an earnest desire to folowe vertue and honestie: if iustice cōsisteth in cleanes of life, in innocencio, in good and seemelie or­dre of the mind, in holy conuersation, in newnes of heauenly life, and in the cōtinual exercise of charity: and we be able, neither to keepe the commaun­dementes of God, neither to forsake [Page] vice, neither to folowe honestie, nei­ther to doe the woorkes of charitie, if it be so, that, (wil we, nil we) we must needes beare the yoke of synne: by what meanes in the worlde shall we be able to assure our selues of the state of iustice, through the grace and mer­cie of Christe, if Christe hath not yet broken the force of synne in vs by the merite of his bloude, as your maisters say? You see here, after what sort that man, that was (as you say) sent from heauen, hath cut of by his deuises all hope of atteining vnto iustice. But see on the other side, how wittily he hath deuised a remedie, and how al the rest haue folowed him.

He saieth, that no man hath anie particular iustice through the grace of Christ, but that the iustice of Christe him selfe is applied to all beleeuers by faith, in such sorte, that the iustice of Christ is no lesse accōpted and estee­med in euerie faithfull man (be he ne­uer [Page 151] so wicked) then if it were that mās owne iustice, that staieth vppon faith onely. He sayth therefore, that it co­meth to passe through this faith, by the which euerie Christian man assureth him selfe that he is in the fauour of God, that the iustice of Christ is impu­ted to be the iustice of that man, that beleeueth. You haue here the law of Luther, so muche as concerneth this present place, thoroughly scanned, so that you can not iustly complaine of any wrong done vnto Luther.

Nowe consider you on the other side, what a meruelouse easie waie he hath deuised to atteyne vnto iustice. For to whome shal it not be a very ea­sie matter (if he wil beleeue Luther) to say thus with him selfe? This geare goeth gaily wel with me. I am in high fauour with God for my faithes sake. It is so, that the iustice of Christ is be­come mine owne iustice. I am there­fore as iuste as Paule, as Peter, yea [...] [Page] the moste blessed mother of God her selfe: for so much as no man hath the cō ­mendation of any particulare iustice through the grace of Christ: but there is one only iustice applied indifferētly to al such as keepe the faith: the which bicause it can not be higher or lo­wer, greater or lesser, it foloweth, that I am so iuste my selfe (although there remaine synne in me) as he that is most iust.

You see now, how by the diligence of this excellent felow, all feare is put to flight, presumption set on tip toe, boldhardinesse confirmed in her full strēgth and force. For so much as ther­fore a man can not be earnestly pro­uoked to doe any vertuouse acte, be­ing either in extreme despaire or elles in extreme presumption: and Luther hath in parte cutte of all hope of iu­stice, and in parte hath brought his disciples into a moste presumpteous affiaunce of atteyning vnto it, by de­uising [Page 152] an other iustice that was neuer hearde of before: is it not euident, although to eschewe enuie he spake sometymes manie thinges concer­ning the woorkes of iustice, that he quenched all loue and desire of well doing? For, I praye you, by what meanes wil you encourage a faint man to doe anie honest thing, if he haue learned before of some graue person, that such as endeuour them selues to doe anie vertuouse acte, doe but loose their labour?

Agayne, howe will you driue the feare of euerlasting damnation into them, that are altogether carelesse, and presume so muche of their owne iustice, that they beleeue, that no man doth passe them in any excel­lencie of iustice? Wherefore no man in the worlde wil euer bend him selfe to doe holie woorkes (if he hearken to the Doctrine of Luther) for so much as it is impossible, that any man, [Page] being either in extreme despaire of honestie, or elles in extreme presum­ption of saluation, should earnestly en­deuour him selfe to folow godlines.

But, you wil say, that it may be, that Luther did exhorte his countrey men to good workes in his Bookes and ser­mons. I know that wel. So did Epicure him selfe, when he had with Decrees taken away al vertue, yet woulde he dispute now and then of vertue very notably. I consider not, what the light felowe saith sometime, either through the inclination of nature, or elles for feare of enuie: but I see, what is most agreeable to his decrees and doctrine. This is most vndowbtedly true that, when thinges are either vtterly des­paired, or certainely assured, there is no man, that wil take any great paines in folowing of vertue. Therefore, for so much as Luther hath shewed him selfe to be the authour both of this ex­treme desperation, as also of that, ex­treme [Page 153] presumptiō: who doth not see, that, by him, al good and godly works hath ben quite ouerthrowen? Wher­fore this was in him a great fault, a cru­el deede, a shamelesse acte, a wicked crime, an intolerable villanie: but yet was that other muche more heynouse and detestable, that he woulde wrest the godlie and wise saying of S. Paule after his owne pleasure, and abuse the testimonie of the holy Apostle to con­firme his shameles opiniō and doctrine.

But let vs now see, howe you will make Luther the defacer of all vertue, labour, diligence, and industrie: to a­gree with S. Paule, the high Schoole­maister of al holines, religion and ver­tue? S. Paule, say you, saith, that there is nothing auailable to saluation, be­sides faith that worketh by charitie. The selfe same Paul saith, that no man is iustified by woorkes. It is therefore euidēt, say you, that these two points are ioyned together.

[Page] But I say on the other side, that, for so much as these things do disagree ex­cedingly the one frō the other, it is im­possible, that euer S. Paul should ioyne them together. But that it may be fene how il your maisters vnderstād S. Paul: it is to be cōsidered, what his meaning was, what he went about, what inten­tion and purpose he had, as in al his Epi­stles, so especially in this, whiche he wrot to the Romains, out of the which you haue taken these testimonies cor­ruptly vnderstood.

A sound and catholike do­ctrine touching vvorkes. What was then the purpose of S. Paul in this Epistle? Doubtlesse this, to withdraw men from all affiaunce in worldly things to the faith of Christ.

He teacheth therfore, that there was no sure staie of saluation, neither in na­ture, neither in the ordinaunces of the olde Law. For it was neither nature, neither the law, that toke away iniqui­ty, and brought in iustice, in the which only stādeth our saluation and honour. [Page 154] For only iustice procureth the fauour of God towards mankind.

And first that nature of it self holp [...] nothing towardes iustice, he proueth by this argument: bicause all menne, which staied vpō nature ōly, although they were endewed with excellente witte, yet they were spotted with ini­quitie; with vncleane lustes, malice, couerousnes, dishonestie of life, cruel­tie, and with other vices vnsemely to be named. As though he shoulde saie thus. If the excellencie of nature, if the sharpenesse of witte, if the force of the mind and reason had holp [...] any thing towards iustice: then had the Gentils, which excelled in nature, in wie, and in reason, ben well appointed and fur­nished for al helpes and states of iustice. But the brightnes of iustice shone not emongest them: (for they were full of iniquity and vices without number) wherefore the excellencie of nature holpe them nothing to liue iustly.

[Page] Then turning him self to the Iewes, he vrgeth the selfe same argument, but more earnestly and with greater force. For he had entered into a most ernest cōflict with the Iews, as touching the ceremonies of the old Law: the which the Iewes, thought necessarie to kepe stil, beleuing that the soules were pur­ged by them. Against whom S. Paule disputeth, declaring that al the ordinā ­ces of the Law, which were but only shadowes of Iustice, vanished away at the coming of the true and perfect iu­stice: and that suche as referred the cause of iustice vnto those shadowes, appaired the honour of Christe. For they distrusted the power and merite of Christ. And therefore writing vn­to Gala. 5. a.the Galathians, he saith. If you be circu [...]cided, Christe shal doe you no good. In like manner writing to the Hebrews, he saieth, that the Law [...] Hebr. 7. c.broughte nothinge to perfection, but that it stirred vp men with shadowes [Page 155] only and Images to the hope of the sal­uation to come. And those ceremo­nies and sacrifices ordeined by the law, the which in this place and in the epi­stle to the Galathians, he termeth the woorkes of the Lawe, writing to the Hebrewes, he calleth them the iusti­ces of the flesh. S. Paul therefore spea­keth Hebr. 9. 6.of this part of the Lawe, whiche cōsisteth in shadowes of iustice, which conteineth the cleansing of the bodie, and reacheth not vnto the soule, whē he saith, that no man is iustified by the woorkes of the Lawe. This was the meaning of S. Paule, and the conclusi­on of that so long and earnest disputa­tion, which you speake of. As though he would saie thus. If Circumcision, if the sprinkeling of asshes, if the offe­ring vppe of brute beastes, if the other cleansinges of the Law did make men iust, it should folow, that al the Iewes which obserued and kept orderly the holie ceremonies of the Lawe, attes­ned [Page] vnto iustice. But it is euident, that al such lewes as leaned and trusted vn­to the lawe only, were naughty men, vncleane liuers, backbiters, murderers, and wicked persones. Wherefore they receiued not the fruit of iustice by the law. And so it remaineth, that no man is iustified by the workes of the lawe.

If you haue any wit at al, this reason concluding so aptely maie teach you, what workes S. Paule meant, when he saied, that no man is iustified by the works of the law. For otherwise what could any man haue said more vnapt­ly, woorse hanging together, and lesse to the purpose? If S. Paule had said, that the Iewes had excelled in cleane liuīg, in godlines and innocētie, and yet that such vertuos dedes had helped nothīg towardes iustice: if he had vpon these thinges concluded, that they were not iustified by the workes of the law: you might well haue gessed, that by the works of the law, he had vnderstoode [Page 156] the deedes of vertue and godlines. But S. Paul neuer spake any such word. No, he declareth plainly by the testimonie of the law it selfe, that such as bestow­ed much diligēce and labour about the ordināces of the law, wer very naugh ty and wicked men: whereupon he cō ­cludeth, Works of the lavve do not iu­stifie.that the works of the law did not iustifie. What then? Think you that S. Paul doth cōclude his argumēt vpon things that are not proued and agreed vpon, as you do? If you presume to say so, then shal you falsly charge the wise­dome of the holy man with the crime of rashnes and folie. The whiche thing how far it is from S. Paul, is wel know­en to al suche as studie his writinges with a pure intētion. For what can be deuised more witty and better appli­ed, fuller of wisedome and more ear­nestly endited, then the reasoninge and style of S. Paule? His Argu­ments are al so wellinked within them selues the one dependeth of an other [Page] so aptly, they are knit together so fine­ly, the seconde cometh in vppon the first, the last answereth vnto the mid­delmost so necessarily, he chaineth all the whole discourse in one, with such an excellent order and cunning, that it is not possible to finde any one pointe in al his talke, that agreeth not won­derfully wel with his meaning expres­sed in any other place before. It is therfore gathered by the reason it self of S. Paule, (which concludeth verie aptly) what workes of the Law those are, by the which, he saieth, no man is made iust. They are those workes, the which S. Paule plucketh at euermore in his disputatiō, against the which he contendeth moste earnestly, from the afsiance of the which he endeuoureth to withdraw the Iewes: for the cause of the which he was cruelly assaulted of the Iewes, and oftentimes put in great peril of his life.

Now if you desire to know, wher­fore [Page 157] these sacrifices of the Lawe, are called the woorkes of the lawe: howe those workes also, which are done by the strength of reason only, (vnto the which men leane and trust to muche, and therefore require against al reason a reward for them, not accordinge to grace, but of duetie) are to be accoun­ted emongest the workes of the Law: how the workes of godlines, charitie, humanitie and vertue are to be refer­red vnto the power and holinesse of faith: in how great blindenes thei are, the whiche not vnderstandinge these places of S. Paule, and wresting them from their true meaning, abuse them to proue, that the workes of holy men are not only vnprofitable, but also wic ked: I haue declared these thinges plainely ynough in my bookes writen of iustice, which are now abroad: and therefore I thinke it not nedefull to re­pete them againe in this place. I doe not therefore pul in sunder such things [Page] as are ioyned together by reason: but the things, that are disagreable and cō ­trary the one to the other, I can no [...] [...] ­bide to see them hudled vp together without reason. For, seing that S. Paule doth most earnestly exhorte vs to the loue of vertue, innocēcy and charitie: saying, that euery mā shalbe rewarded according to his workes: seing that he affirmeth, that al such as are ioyned vn to Christ, are washed and clensed of al vncleanes of syn, and are become ho­ly: yea and that they are for cleannes of life and brightnes of vertue compa­rable to the sterres: what thing in the world could haue bē spokē more cōtra­ry to this saying, so oftē and so cōstant­ly repeted, then to affirme, that suche, as the Apostle reporteth to be cleane, holy, cleere, most excellētly beutified with the brightnes of heauēly vertues, are spotted with sinnes, and that their workes are not only nothing auailable towards the heap and perfection of iu­stice, but also that thei are vnclene, sin­ful, [Page 158] and disteined with the contagious infection of our corrupted nature?

Rom. 8. a. But let vs cōfider the place of S. Paul it selfe, which you alleage. S. Paule, say you, warāteth, that there is no danger of dānation in such as are ēgraffed in Christ. But we take that withal, that foloweth in the same place: such as liue not accordīg to the flesh, but according to the spirit. You doe wel to take in that withal. But let vs see▪ what are they, that walke, as S. Paul saith, accordīg to the flesh? Dout­lesse thei are those, which are, as S. Paul Gal. 5. c.writing to the Galathians saith, corrup­ted and defiled with auoutrie, with the filthie pleasure of the bodie, with vn­cleanes of life, with cursed superstiti­on, with hatred, with making debate and strife betweene men, with stir­ring vppe troubles and discorde, with pestilente sectes, with enuie, mur­der and creweltie, with drunkenes, and glottonie, with these and other the like vices, of the which saieth the [Page] Apostle, I tel you now, as I haue also told you before, that who soeuer doth such thinges, shal neuer possesse the in­heritaunce of God. He excepteth no man, he saied not, vnlesse they haue faith: for it is like that this light of the new Gospell had not yet shined in his eyes. And what they are, that liue ac­cording to the Spirit, the Apostle de­clarerh, saying, that they are suche, is enioye the most sweete and plesaune fruit of the Spirite. Nowe the fruit of the spirit, as he saith, is charity, glad­nes, peace, constancie in vertue, gen­tlenes, bowntifulnes, faith (not mea­ning that slacke faith, but such a faith, as is ioyned with obedience) mekenes, continencie, and other the like com­mendable vertues, against the whiche no man can procede by law. And yet a manne might doe it, in case they were spotted and defiled with any sinne. S. Paule therfore doth in no wise pro­mise the inheritance of the euerlasting [Page 159] kingdom to them that leane to the on­ly faith of Luther: but to suches as doe good workes, and direct all the doings of their life to the glorie of Christ.

Here wil you crie out againe, and protest the faith of Gods and men, that this is a notable slaunder, and not to be borne: and that you did not put suche affiaunce in onely Faith, but that you determined withal, that good workes were also necessarie vnto saluation. I will not as now dispute, howe farre from al reason it is, to put any hope or affiaunce of saluation in a thing, that is vncleane and wicked. And therfore, if al workes, as Luther saith, are defi­led with sinne: then are thei not to be wrought diligētly, but to be neglected and despised. But omitting this matter, we wil consider, how these works, be they neuer so euil, yet must thei nedes be had of you: (for this pointe haue I searched out with much diligēce.) Bi­cause, say they, they folow faith of ne­cessitie: [Page] not for that, that workes doe make the way vnto saluation, (for as of them selues they came not into iudge­ment) but bicause there is in them a certaine fruit of Faith. For as a tree of it self bringeth forth fruit by the stregth of nature, so dothe faith of necessitie bring forth workes. These two points of doctrine do your maisters teach: but­both the one and the other is false.

For first of al, the works themselues do deserue either saluatiō or dānation: and the workes shalbe weied by them selues in the balāce of Gods iudgemēt. Psal. 61. d.Otherwise Dauid woulde neuer haue said, that God wil [...]ēder vnto euery mā Ro. 2. b.according to his workes: S Paul would neuer haue said, that God wil rewarde euery man according to the qualitie of his worke good or il: he would neuer haue staied men with that threat, that 2. Cor. 5. bwe must all stand before the iudgemēt seat of Christ▪ to make account euery Ro. 14. d.man, of what so euer good or euill he [Page 160] hath cmōitted in this life: and that euery mans own works shalbe most exact­ly tryed: to make short (for so much as the testimonies, that may be alleaged, are infinite) the most holy iudge him­selfe would neuer haue said, that such as haue done well, shal goe into life e­uerlasting, Mat. 25. dand such as haue done euil, into euerlasting fier.

Then that other point is also false, that good workes do necessarilie arise out of Luthers faith. I graunt you, that good workes do folowe my faith, but not yours, M. Haddon, if you beleeue Ro. 10. c.Luther. How so say you? Bicause faith cometh by hearsay, ād hearsay cometh by the worde of Christ. For so much The faith of the chu [...] che is fru [...] ful.therfore as my faith, that is to say, the faith of the holy Churche is grounded vpon the wordes of Christ, and Christ him self saith, that al such as do not re­pente, shall be condemned: that saith and credit, which I geue to the words of Christ, causeth me to do penaunce. [Page] Io▪ 15. b. Againe when our Lorde saieth: [...] shalbe my friendes, if you will do th [...] thinges, that I commaunde you to doe if I beleeue the wordes of Christe, and desire earnestly to be receiued into his frindship: I wil endeuour my selfe to the vttermost of my power, to do such thinges as are by him commaunded. And whereas Christ telleth vs before, that not he that calleth him Lorde, Mat. 7. 6.shal come to haue the possession of the kingdome of heauen, but he that orde­reth al his workes according to the wil of the euerlasting Father: If my faith be not faint, if it be liuelie and strong and inflamed with the desire of that kingdome: I am stirred vp by this faith to directe al my doinges according to the wil of God. See you not now, af­ter what sort this faith conteineth ho­ly workes within her wombe, which are engendred of the fruictefulnes of her.?

Now let vs see the faith of Luther, [Page 161] whether it be able to bring foorth any Luthers faith fruitles.fruicte, that is quicke. No without doubt. First of all, bicause al workes as he saieth, seeme they neuer so holy, are disteined with synne. And no man maketh any account or estimation of a thing that is vncleane and spotted with synne. Moreouer bicause (as he mainteineth) the force and strength of inordinate lust is so great, that he thin­keth it impossible to withstand it by any meanes in the world. Seing then it is impossible for any man to ende­uour him selfe to doe any good wor­kes, vnlesse he doe firste destroie the kingdome of synne: and the kingdome of synne can not possibly be destroied, if it be true that Luther saith: it remai­neth, that no man can possibly do any holy workes. For who is so mad, that he wil bestowe his labour in any thing in vaine and without fruicte? Last of al bicause Luther hath determined such a kind of iustice, as needeth not [Page] the healpe of any doing or worke. For if I persuade my selfe, that the iustice of Christ is applied vnto me by faith, no lesse then if it were mine own iustice: and that I haue atteined vnto that moste high and perfecte iustice of Christ, although I lyue and continue in syn: with what desire, care, or hoo­fulnes should I be pricked forewarde to doe any good worke? Forsomuche therefore as Luther both despiseth ho­ly works, and cutteth of al hope of ho­nestie and holinesse: and by this faith, which he hath deuised, taketh away al feare of punishment: is it not euident, that he is the ouerthrower of holy workes, the destroier of honestie and godlines? although he pretēded some­time to stirre vppe his disciples to the loue of vertue? Wherefore it is mani­festly seene, that this man of God, whō you cōmend aboue the heauens, what with bringing good workes into con­tempt, and what with causing men to [Page 162] despaire of honestie, and by teaching a vaine affiaunce in his newly deuised iustice, hath quite taken away al desire of doing and working.

Let vs now come to your other cō ­plaīt, in the which you say, that I make no end of babling, while I lament the vnsensiblenes of Luther, which tyed vp the wil of man with necessitie of destenie. Truly, say you, I am not wonte to be moued with angre, and yet now I can hold my selfe no longer. It is my great fault, M. Haddon, that I haue by this my babling as you terme it, caused you (being so gentle and soft by nature as you are) to rage like a mad man. Wel let vs then heare the talke of this felow which is iustly prouoked to plaie the bedlome. What saie you sir?

This slaunder, say you, is not only bloc­kish and ignorant, but also blasphemou [...]: and suche, as the verie stoones them selues, whiche you speake of, if they could speake, would not tourne it against [Page] our men. I know, M. Haddon, that that place of Rhetorik is wel applied to this vehement kind of speach, whiche you now vse. And therfore I looke, when you wil bring in those stones, and make them to speake. You say afterwarde.

But haue you an eye vnto the Scri­ptures a litle while, and repent you. Tru­ly I haue a diligent eye vnto them: but I haue not as yet gone to schoole with doctour Walter. Now therefore I am attētiue, if I may, by your good instru­ctions come to a cleerer vnderstāding of the secrets of God. I wuld ye would vtter vnto vs this wonderful stuffe of your high wisedome. Well: what say you then?

Predesti­nation. God the Father hath chosen vs in Christe, before the foundations of the world were laied, to the ende that we should be holie and vnreproueable before him. How knowe you, M. Walter, I pray you, that you are one of the cho­sen? Againe which be they, that are ho­ly [Page 163] and vnreprooueable before God? Doubteles they are such, as are void of al synne. But by Luthers doctrine, you can not be without sinne. For he saith, that sin is not al put out, but that a cer­taine steime of vice breaketh out of it, as it were out of a burning fornace, the which deuoureth and consumeth all thinges round about it: whereupon it foloweth, that no man is vnreprooue­able. But if you peraduenture will say, that you speake not of your selfe, but of al mankinde: if no man in the worlde be deliuered from al synne (as Luther teacheth) then doth it fol­lowe, that no man can be vnreproue­able.

You heare, say you, the election or choise of God out of the gospell, the which you so muche detest in your talke: and you heare the tyme also. Doe I detest the election of God? With what face dare you saie so? In what place? in what woordes? before whome? who [Page] is your witnesse? who was made pri­uie? in which of all my writinges can you conuince me to haue spoken any such word? Haue you such a pleasure, to babble out, what so euer cometh vpon your tongues end?

Neither is this necessitie of Gods ele­ctiō say you, an occasion whie we should yeald our selues wholly to felowe the plea­sures of the bodie and vncleane vices (as it pleaseth you full vngodly to sport) but that we should be holie and vnreproue­able before God through charitie: as it is declared by the expresse woordes of the gospell. Although I vnderstande you not verie wel, yet I thinke you make with me. For I saie the verie same thing, that we are not compelled by any necessitie to doe euil: for so much as God hath geauen vs (as it is mani­festly prooued by many places of the Free Wil.Scripture) a free choise of life and death. Wherefore we are free, and not tied with any fatal necessitie.

[Page 164] But here again forgetting what you said before, you alleage certaine places out of S. Paule, by the which as I ima­gine, you intende to take from vs our freedome of will.

Phil. 2. b. It is God, saie you, that woorketh in vs both to will and to doe. S. Paul in these woordes hath tyed vppe our wil, and re­streined our power. Neither did S. Paul euer thinke it, neither did your mai­sters vnderstande the meaninge of S. Paule. Muche lesse is it to be thought that you, being farre inferior to them, should be able to atteine to the Apo­stles meaning in this matter. We graūt this to be true, that our thoughtes and works (such as are wel begon and en­ded) ought to be referred vnto god, by whose power thei are don. For except God had called me backe, when I rāno into all mischiefe: excepte he had ad­uertised me by the instincte of his spi­rit, that I shuld not cast my selfe head­lōg into euerlasting thraldome: except [Page] he had with his wholesome grace and sure aide so strengthened me, that I might be able to doe the godly worke which he commaunded me to doe: I could neither haue done, neither yet haue thought any good thing: but what so euer studie or diligence I had em­ploied either in deuising, or els in do­ing any good worke, it had benne all in vaine. Yet this much we say, that we may, not yeald our assent to the in­spiration of God, that we may, not re­gard his liberalitie, that we maie, re­fuse his gentle offer, yea and leese, thorough synne and wi [...]kednesse, the Apo [...]. 3. d.grace, that is alreadie goten. I, saith our Lorde, doe stand at the doore and knocke. He saith not, I doe breake o­pen the doores, or I doe pul them out of the hinges, or I doe breake in by violence: but only, I doe knocke▪ that is to say, I doe warne: I doe declare the peril that may ensewe: I do shew the hope of saluation: I doe promise [Page 165] healpe: and I doe allure men vnto me by benefites. Yet you saie.

What then? Is there no difference be­twene vs and a stone? He must needes be more vnsensible then a stone, that wold gather after that sort. As though I had gathered this, M. Waulter, out of the sobre meaning of S. Paul, and not out of the dronken dreming of Luther: as it shal appeere hereafter.

The selfe same S. Paul, saie you, cal­leth vs the coadiutours of God, and commaundeth vs to woorke our salua­tion in feare and trembling. See you not then, by the verie woordes of S. Paul, that the freedome of will is buyl­ded vpon his authoritie, the whiche Luther goeth about to ouerthrowe? For wherefore shoulde he haue saied, that we are the coadiutours of God, if a man coulde doe nothing towardes the woorke, that God woorketh in vs? Wherfore should he haue warned vs to woorke our saluation, if it were [Page] not in our power to doe it? But you, euen as in that ioyning of faith that woorketh by charitie, and of woorkes that are vnprofitable, laboured in vaine to glew together by the testimonie of S. Paul such things, as can not possibly be ioyned: in like manner you would bring to passe, by this your singular wit, the which we simple idiotes can not reache vnto, that freedome and bondage should be knit together with a most fast knot of frindship, and that by the sayings and meaning of S. Paul. And therfore at one time you alleage certaine places of S. Paul, that maketh for freedome: at an other time you bring other testimonies, the which, as you thinke, confirmeth bondage. But I might proue by this argument alone, that you could neuer so muche as sus­pecte, what great wisedome was in S. Paul: (as in whose heart rested the spi­rite of Christ) bicause you labour to prooue, that he spake such thinges, as [Page 166] are verie contrarie.

And yet you saie, that I doe abhorre the Gospel. In deede I do abhorre Lu­thers Gospell: and when I name Lu­ther, I meane Melanchthon also, and Bucer and Caluine, and the reste of your Bassaes. For although they be di­uers channels of waters, yet came thei al out of one fountaine. But whereas you abuse the testimonies of S. Paul to auowch your vngodlines, me thinketh it is a thing not to be borne. You saie afterward.

You shall know by three wordes of S. Paul. What shall I know? I am able to Philip. 4. c doe al thinges in Christe, whiche streng­theneth me. And S. Augustine com­prised the selfe same sentence in other wordes verie finely: God, saieth he, crow­neth his owne woorkes in vs. Verie well. But to what purpose bring you these thinges? Be we of them, thinke you, that take parte with Pelagius? Did we euer saie, that we coulde doe [Page] anie good and commendable woorke by our owne strength and diligence? No truly. And yet you in this place, as though you had wonne the field, be­gynne to vaunt your selfe without all modestie, and saie.

What is it? See you not how the proui­dence of God is fortified by the authoritie of the holy scriptures? And yet you vn­derstande, that it is not the mother of synne, but the nourse of all vertue. O M. Haddon, what agew fitte is this that holdeth you? What damned sprites are these that vexe you? What plagues of synne are these that folow you vp and downe? Where haue you heard or read, that I doe denie the proui­dence of God, or that I doe affirme, that out of it there shoulde arise anie euil in the worlde? Is this no furie? Is this no madnes? Is this no impudencie? You coulde neuer gather anie suche thing out of my writinges: vnlesse you thinke perhaps, that the prouidence of [Page 167] God can not stand by anie meanes, ex­cept the freedome of mans will be ta­ken quite awaie. If you thinke so, you are worse then mad. If you thinke not so, and yet wil charge me falsely with­all: you are past al shame. And yet you saie.

But let vs goe vnto the fountaines them selues, out of the which although there flowe most sweete honey, yet hath your most corrupted mind sucked out of them verie pestilent poison▪ O M. Waul­ter, how much it easeth your stomake, to vomite out this railing poison, with the whiche you are glotted? S. Paul writing to the Galathians saied: would Gala. 5. b.God they might be cut of that trouble you. In like manner doe I praie vnto Christ my God, the authour and gea­uer of vncorrupted and vpright life: that all such as come to hādle the holy scriptures, with an vncleane minde, with fowle eyes, with an vngodlie in­tent, maie at the length repent them [Page] selues: or els, if they wil not, that they maie be put to most sharp punishment and horrible death, raither then to bring so much mischiefe into the com­mon weale of the Church.

In this place, (good Christ) what a stirre you keepe? how wonderfully you laie about you? how you vaunt your selfe in wordes like a conque­rour? You doe, in your owne conceit, not only beate backe the hornes, as you saied before, but also ouerthrow and discomfite a whole armie. You bring diuers places of S. Paule, which are nothing necessarie, to prooue that there is a prouidence. After that you laie out against me with open mowth, as though I should cōclude that by the prouidence of God, if there were any, a man were bereft of his senses. The which is in deede a verie shameles lie. For you neuer read anie such word in my oratiō. Neither doth it folow, that a man should be like a blocke, of gods [Page 168] prouidence, but of Luthers madnes, by the which, cōtrarie to gods prouidēce, he taketh awaie the freedome of the will. But you peraduēture thinke, that the lewdnes of Luther is so ioyned with this prouidence, that who so euer speketh ernestly against Luthers mad­nes, he must needes appaire Gods pro­uidence. But I am of a contrarie mind, that who so euer foloweth the lewd­nes of Luther, doth so much as in him li­eth, ouerthrow the prouidēce of God.

But what meaneth this? Wherfore declare you not in plaine words, what you wold haue? wherfore vse you such darke parables? wherfore forsake you the name of Babilonical bondage, and take vp violētli the name of prouidēce? Luther saied, that free wil was either a thing of a title only, or els a title with­out a thing. He saith, that mā doth suf­fer, and not doe: that he is drawen, and doth not deliberat: that he is onli an in­strumēt, the which God turneth, as him [Page] listeth: that God driueth him foreward and pulleth him backeward as his ple­sure is: and that he vseth him as a sawe or a hatchet: and that man hath no po­wer or strength in the worlde to doe either good or euyl. But he correcteth him selfe afterward in this manner. I did il, saith he, to saie that free wil be­fore grace is a thing of a title only: I ought rather to haue saied simply, that free wil is a feined deuise in thinges, or els a title without a thing. For so much as it is in no mās power once to thinke anie good or euil (as it is in the article of Wicleffe condemned at Constāce) but all thinges doe come to passe of a mere and absolute necessitie. He am­plifieth these things afterwardes with manie wordes, and streineth him selfe verie sore, to prooue that the mind is alwaies tied, the wil bownd, the po­wer to doe taken awaie, yea in suche sort, that we can not possibly not only doe, but also not so much as thinke [Page 169] vpon anie thing good or bad. These thinges taught Melanchthon also, and so did Caluine with great copie of woordes, and other, whome I here omit. To be short, the somme of this doctrine was, that ther is no difference betwene vs and anie other woorking toole. These are the thinges, whiche your Doctours teach openly.

But I faie, (and al good men, al holy men, all men endewed with godlines and vertue auowch my saying to be true) that to teach this your doctrine is a heinouse offence, a desperat bold­nes, a detestable owtrage, a coursed acte. For graunt me this doctrine to be true, and I saie, that lawes are taken quite awaie, counsells put to silence, honest craftes ouerthrowen, learning defaced, ciuile gouernement disorde­red, the determination of right and wrong confounded. I saie moreouer (for it foloweth of necessitie) that man is bereft of his senses, spoiled of coūsel, [Page] depriued of reson, and brought to that passe, that there is no difference be­twene him and a stone cast out of the hand. I saie also, that the warninges of the lawe of God, the commaunde­mentes, counsells, exhortations, and thre [...]tninges, the rewardes assigned vnto vertue, and the punishmentes ap­pointed for sinne and wickednes, were to no purpose enregestred in the holie scriptures for the perpetuall remem­braunce of them. All these inconue­niences folow vpō the doctrine of Lu­ther necessarily. There foloweth also an other incōuenience, the which, (to conceiue it only in heart) is the most horrible blasphemie, that euer could be spoken or ymagined, that God the most holy and vpright iudge, in whom no iniquitie can possibly rest, doth vn­iusli punish that offence, of the which him selfe was (as Luther saieth) a per­swader, a forcible mouer, yea the doer. For euē as, when a murder is cōmitted, not the sweard, but he that committed [Page 170] the murder with the swerd is arained: so, right and reason would, that not I, which was forced to doe a mischiefe by a certaine fatal violence, the which I could not withstand, but he that vsed suche forcible meanes towardes me, shuld beare the blame of it. I saie ther­fore, that this point, out of the whiche foloweth so many and suche horrible mōsters, is so heinouse and wicked, that if al the rest were gathered together, in cōparison of this, they might seeme to be very light. For it doth both ouer­throw quite the societie and good or­der emongest men: and it doth falsly charge that our most holie Lord and bowntiful father with the crime of vn­iustice and creweltie. This therfore do I saie, iudge, define, determine, taught by infinite testimonies of the holy scri­pture, moued therūto bi the monumēts of al holy mē that euer wrote either of old time or in our daies, instructed by many disputatiōs of the most excellēt [Page] philosophers, endewed also with vp­right reason, the whiche was wont to be called the lawe of nature and God: that this absolute or fatale necessitie, with the which Luther tied vp all the doinges and thoughtes of men, with­out exception, can neither stand, nor enter into the mind of anie reasonable man: and that, who so euer deuised it first, was of al men, that euer liued vp­on the earth, most vile and wicked.

This is that, which I saied. This I would haue you to confute, and to de­clare, either that Luther neuer spake it, or els if he did, to prooue that he did it vpon good cōsideration. The which thing of like you doe not (peraduēture for feare of enuie) and therefore you shifte your selfe into a disputation of Gods election, and you goe about to prooue by the testimonie of S. Paul, that there is a prouidence: as though I had disputed against the prouidence of God, and not against the madnes of [Page 171] Luther. Can anie man in the worlde deuise a more fond or foolish order of disputation and cōfutation, then this is?

You are ouer bold and rash to abuse the epistle of S. Paul to the Romaines, being, as you are, altogether ignorant in it. And yet, as though you had with this your leadden sweard killed God haue mercie on his sowle, when you had brought in that example out of S. Paul of the children that were yet vn­borne, you ranne vpon me like a mad man. This is the language, that you vsed.

What saie you good sir? Behold the ele­ction once againe, and that according to the pourpose of God. Behold the time of the election which was, before the chil­dren were borne. What shall we then saie? that there is anie vniustice in God? S. Paul detesteth that saying, but Ierome Osorius dowbteth not to auowch it. O M. Haddon, what madnes is this that vexeth you? What saie you? What [Page] thinke you? What a shamelesse lust of lying is this? When saied I so? in what wordes? Shew the place: reprooue me by witnesses: conuince me by good proofe. Before you doe this why rage you? Whie take you on like a mad man? Thinke you, that Luther, that mad felowe and filthie varlet, and the heauenlie doctrine of S. Paul are so neere ioyned together, that who so euer is against Luther, must needes be against the most holie ordinaunces of S. Paul also? Oh (saie you) it is the voice Rom. 9. c. of God to Moyses. I will haue mercie on whome so euer I haue mercie, and I will haue compassion, on whom so euer I haue compassion. S. Paul bringeth in vpon this: that it is not in him that will, nei­ther in him that runneth, but in God that taketh mercie. After this you re­cite the example of Pharao, but you shew not plainely, to what ende you alleage it. And then, as though you [Page 172] had alreadie declared by the testimo­nie of S. Paule, that the freedome of mans wil was taken awaie, you con­clude after this sort.

What saieth Ierome Osorius? For sooth he saieth: if manes reason be tied vppe, if freedome of deliberation be taken awaie, if the will be settered with euerlasting bandes: that it must needes folowe, that man is altogether bereft of his iudgement and senses, that there is no difference betwene him and a stone, yea that God is made to be the authour of euill.

And that it standeth not with rea­son, that we should be pounished, for that offence, whiche we committed, not with our will. That is true, M. Haddon, neither haue you confuted my argumentes, neither haue you brought anie testimonie of S. Paule, the which might cause me to chaunge my minde. And yet as though you had determined the matter all at [Page] pleasure, you rowse your selfe, and en­tring into a more earnest vaine of speach, you bring those woordes, that folowe, out of the innermost corner of your cunning. You saie thus.

Doe I make anie thing of my selfe? doe I alter or chaunge anie thing? do you not acknowledge your owne wordes, whiche are partly false, and partly wicked? These things while you declaimed them like a fine Rethorician, and vaunted your selfe somewhat insolently with a cer­taine lustie kind of talke: you make that same glistering glosse of wordes to shine a great deale the brighter by put­ting in (as your manner is) a taunt or re­proch. Your wordes are these.

Of like you are that prowd reasoner, whose haughtines S. Paul rebuketh very sharply. Will you being an earthen vessel, made of dyrt and claie, demaund of the potter, to what vse he hath so made you? These and the like tauntes you caste out against me, and you warne [Page 173] me withall, that I doe not ouer­throw, thorough this my intolerable pride, such as leane vppon the proui­dence of God. These are the thinges, which you vtter in exceeding great choler.

O goodly golden vessel, made by the excellent woorkemanship of Bucer, I pray you disdaine not the poore ear­then vessels: for it is in them, to be­come golden vessels. In a great house, saith S. Paule, there are vessels, not on­ly of gold and siluer, but also of wood 2. Tim. 2. cand earth. And some are made for ho­nour, and some for reproch. If any man therefore will pourge him selfe from these, he shalbe a vessel for ho­nour, made holy and meete for our Lord, and prepared to all good worke. You see how S. Paule declareth, that it is a very easie matter for vs, if we wil, to be chaunged out of woodden and earthen vessels, into vessels of gold and siluer. And by what meanes this [Page] thing may be brought to passe, he de­clareth plainly, when he saieth: If he wil pourge him selfe from these. From whom? From them doubtlesse, which as he said a litle before, had ouerthro­wen the faith of certaine men. But that you may vnderstande, howe ill your maisters haue expounded those testimonies of S. Paule, whiche you haue hudled vppe together, I thinke it necessarie to set out at large the mea­ning of S. Paule. The which thing, that it may the better be done, it is to be considered, to what ende S. Paule brought al those argumentes.

A learned expositiō of S. Pauls Wordes. When he had therefore described in moste ample manner the blesfull state of those menne, the whiche des­pising the pride of mans nature, and forsaking the ordinaunces of the law, whiche was now disanulled, betooke them selues wholly to the seruice of Christ: yea and so gaue them selues thereunto, that they walked, not ac­cording [Page 174] to the fleshe, but according to the spirite: that is to saie: they put away all filthinesse of vncleane life and naughtinesse, they cutte of the verie stringes of carnalitie, and fol­lowed the woorkes of vertue, godli­nesse, and iustice with an earnest de­sire: when he recorded after this sort in his mind the graces and gyftes, with the which the mindes of those menne were adourned and bewtified, that were receiued into the protection of Christ, and ordered by the guydaunce of the holy ghost: he reioysed incre­dibly. But the greater this ioye was, the more grieuously did he sorow at the remēbraunce of the most bitter chaūce and fal of his owne countrie menne, whiche had for their crewel treache­rie and horrible blindnes of heart lost such great richesse. But for so much as many men tooke occasion by this fall of the Iewes, to appaire the estimatiō of Gods truth and faithfulnes: saying, [Page] that it could not stand with the con­stancie of Gods truth, that that nation, which was fostered in great expecta­tion of libertie and felicitie, whiche was called by Gods owne promises to the hope of the heauenly and euerla­sting kingdome, shoule be tourned out of al good thinges, and left in most hor­rible darkenesse: and that it might be gathered by this, that either the light was not yet brought into the worlde by Christ, or that God was not sure of his promise: for so much therefore as certaine rash and vndiscrete felowes vsing these argumentes went abowte therby most vnworthely and slaunde­rously to disteine the glorie of God: S. Paule disputeth earnestly for the glory of God, and proueth by very good and grounded reasons, that God was sure of his worde, and that he had perfour­med al suche thinges, as were promi­sed, abundantly. And so much doth he signifie, when he saith. Not, that [Page 175] the worde of God is fallen. Nowe the Rom. 9. b▪prouse of this defence he taketh out of sower places.

The first place is the description of a true Israelite, to th' intent that, when it was vnderstoode, that the Gentiles gathered together vnto Christe were nombred in the stocke of Israel, it might appeare, that God had in their saluation and honour excedingly well fulfilled his promises.

The second place was that, in the which he declared, that maine, euen of them that came of the very stocke of Israel, were saued. For in that great shipwracke, certaine remnantes es­caped through faith, out of that most crewell tempest and waues of infide­litie.

In the third place he teacheth, that ther was no stay in god, but that al the Iewes might haue come to saluation. For God had his treasures and richesse alwaies in readines to bestowe them, [Page] and allured them with often calling v­pon them to repaire towardes him, and to receiue the fruicte of his bountiful­nes: but they being through the assi­aūce of their law brought into a pride, and through pride into verie madnes, with harts vnkind and obstinately bent to liue in synne, refused the liberalitie and gentle calling of God.

Rom. 11. c. Last of all he foretelleth, that the time shal come, when the ful multitude of the gētiles are come in, that al Israel shalbe saued. And with these argu­mentes, (whiche he handleth at large) the Apostle declareth very plainely, howe fast and sure God hath alwaies continued in his faithful promise. Of the which we wil touch those pointes onely, that apperteine to this present disputation.

First therfore he ioyneth the descri­ption of a true Israelite with the decla­ration of equitie and iustice: and decla­reth, that the nobilitie of a true Israelit [Page 176] consisteth, not in the communitie of bloud, but in the propagation of faith: and that he is the true sonne of Abra­hā, that is borne according to the pro­mise of God, the whiche faith behol­deth: and not he that is borne accor­ding to the flesh, in the which earthie men do glorie. Not they, saith S. Paule, Rom. 9. c▪that are the sonnes of the flesh, but thei Gen. 18. b.that are the sonnes of promise, are coū ­ted in the seede. And this is a word of promise: I wil come about this tyme, and Sara shal haue a sonne.

But lest it might be said, that Isaac was therfore preferred before Ismael, bicause he was begotten of a free mo­ther, he bringeth in like manner an other example of twoo twinnes. For Iacob and Esau were begotten and borne both of one father, of one Mother, and in one hower: and yet was Iacob placed in the inheri­taunce of his Father, out of the whiche Esau was caste by the pro­uidence [Page] [...] of God. If you will respect [...] of their birth, it [...] Esau should haue benn [...] [...] bicause he came first into the [...]orlde. If you consider the me­rites of woorkes, it was determined in Gods secret counsel, before thei were borne, and before they had done anie thing good or euyl, that Iacob should haue the preeminence. S. Paule set­ting this similitude before our eyes, confirmeth, that this nobilitie of Israel is to be ascribed, neither to any stocke of man, neither to auncetrie, neither to any merite going before: but to the grace of God, the whiche according to election goeth before al merites of vertue and godlinesse. For Iacob re­presented such, as stay them selues vp­pon faith, and looke for the grace and mercie of God: but Esau resembled them, the which haue no respect vnto the grace of God, but are puffed [...] with an affiaunce, whiche they [...]aue [Page 177] [...] woorkes.

[...] lesson therefore we gather out [...]sounde and Cath [...] like con­clusion. [...] place of S. Paule: that it is not [...] stocke on Petegree of manne, nor woorke▪ nor the Lawe, that maketh [...]ru [...] Israelites, but the election, calling, and grace of God.

But let vs see. This so notable a mer­cie of God, which is bestowed vppon vs without any desert or merit of ours, is it geauen without any choise? No t [...]uly. For then were there chaunce and vnaduisednes in the iudgement of God, the whiche no man can once thinke without great offence. S. Paule therefore to put awaye that dam [...]able opinion, saith. To the end that the de­t [...]rmination Rom. 9. c.of God might stand accor­ding to election: it was saied not by [...]orkes, but by the caller, that the el­der should serue the yonger.

Election. [...] woorde Election, [...] oddes or difference [...] with [...] [Page] that there was somewhat in the thing chosen, which was not in the thing re­fused. For the purpose of God is a pre­uented iudgement, in the which God according to election and foreknow­ledge of thinges, which he seeth shall come to passe, some he apointeth mer­cifully vnto glorie, and other he adiud­geth to euerlasting damnatiō. Neither is the wisedome of God, which com­prehēdeth in his endlesse knowlege al things, that hath ben, that are nowe, or shalbe hereafter, cōpelled to looke for the euent of things, when he wil geue iudgement.

What was that then, whiche God chose before? was it any worke, or me­rite that was woorthy of the grace of God? No truely. For, if it were so, grace were no grace. It is certaine, that through the mere mercy of God al on­ly, we were diliuered frō the darkenes of syn, and set in the possession of iu­stice. For he was nothing in our debt. [Page 178] But rather for the hatred towards the law of God engraffed in the nature of the body (which was after synne made subiect vnto the tyrannie of inordinate lust) we were al most worthy of euer­lasting punishment.

Moreouer although that most high and euerlasting bountie woulde, as S. Paul saith, that al men should be saued: 1. Tim. 2. ayet the order of iustice wil not beare, that such as vnkindly refuse the bene­fites of God, and continue in that wic­kednes to the end, shuld receiue them. They therfore are most iustly excluded from the benefites of God, whiche are at defiance with the boūty of God, and will not in any wise be receiued into his fauour. Now wheras God knew before the beginnings of the worlde, that it should come thus to passe, of his mercie he chose them, which he sawe woulde not at the ende stubborne­lie refuse his so greate benefites. And thus it cometh to passe, that some [Page] are by his iust iudgemente refused, and other are by his great mercie called to enioy [...] his euerlasting riches.

But you wil saie peraduenture: what Sir? Saie you that any merite of man goeth before the grace of God? No forsooth. For the very yelding of my minde, by the which I geue my assent vnto the warninges and inspirations of God, and do not refuse his benefites, is to be referred to the grace and mercie of him, that called me, and bowed my mind: and in the receiuing of my salua­tion and dignitie there is no merite of mine. For if I be a poore needie man, and oppressed with extreme necessity, what merite is mine, if I be susteined, and enriched by the liberalitie of some bountiful Prince, which ought me no­thing? What doth the Physition owe me▪ the which of his own accord hath healed my wounds, bicause I haue suf­fered my selfe to be healed of him? Againe what is he in my debt, whiche [Page 179] seeing me beset on euerie syde with theeues, deliuered me from present death? Nothing at al. So therfore it cometh to passe, that such as be recei­ued into the fauour and grace of God, are saued by mercy: and such as be ex­cluded from the grace of God, are re­pelled by his most iust iudgement. Rom. 9. c.

It foloweth in the text of S. Paule. What shall we then saie? Is there any vnrighteousnes in God? God forbid. For he saith vnto Moyses. I wil haue mercie on whom I haue mercie: and I wil haue compassion on whom I haue compassion. S. Paule geueth a reason, wherfore no man can possibly laie any vniustice to God. For the defence of Gods iustice standeth altogether in his mercie. For that often repetition of Gods mercie signifieth his great con­stācie in geauing mercie. And the mer­cy of God quiteth his iustice of al slaū ­den. As though oure Lorde him selfe should saie: I am by nature so merciful, [Page] that I pleasure in no thing more, then in pardoning of syns, and in keeping a most cōstant and euerlasting mercie to mainteine them, whome I haue recei­ued into my protection. It may there­fore be sene very wel, when I do pun­nish syn▪ that such as are cōdemned, do perish through their owne default. For if thei would come to good order, thei might obtein the like mercy and be sa­ued. But forsomuch as of their own ac­cord, thei estemed more darkenes then light, bondage then freedom▪ pouertie then riches, death then life: it was iust, that they shoulde be throwen downe headlōg into bitter paine and torment. And so by this place which S. Paul al­legeth after a heuēli sort, of the assured nes of Gods mercie, we see his iustice vtterly discharged of al slander. Wher­fore in the calamity of the Iews no mā could finde any lacke of truth in God, but he might well blame the vnfaith­fulnes and wicked stubbornes of them, that would not be saued by the mercie [Page 180] of God Then to cōfirme this saying, ād to teach vs that al hope of saluatiō is to be referred to the merci of God, which is so freely offred to al mē: he saith. It is Rom. 9. c.not therfore in hi that willeth, neither in him that rūneth, but in God that ta­keth mercy. Wil importeth a desire: rūning signifieth an earnest endeuour to honestie: the which both are com­prehēded in the benefit of God. For it is he the which with often calling vpō me causeth me to wil: it is he also, the which geueth a cheerefulnes vnto my wil. Howbeit, neither my desire, ney­ther my cherfulnes, shal haue ani good successe, vnlesse he of his mercie shall bring both my wil and my earnest en­deuour to perfection. For our strength is appaired, our hopes vanish al to no­thing, so often as the mercie of God for our vnkindnes of heart, departeth from vs. When I therefore doe any good woorke, it is to be ascribed nei­ther to mans will as being naturallie [Page] inclined to honesty, neither to my ear­nest endeuour: but only to the mercy of God. But that it might appeare yet more plainely, that the Iewes fell not through the vniustice of God, as vngodlie men reported, but through their owne vnfaithfulnesse and wilfull sinne, he reherseth the like example of naughtines and lacke of beleefe. For God vsed the like meanes in callinge Pharao to honestie, and fraying him from vnbeleefe. But he of a pride and stubbornes, which was in him, would abuse the mercie of God, to his farre greater punishmente and damnation. Vppon this, S. Paule bringeth in these Exod. 9. d.wordes. For the Scripture saith vnto Pharao: for this haue I stirred thee vp, that I maie shewe my power in thee, and that my name may be declared in al the earth. In the which place, two thinges are to be noted.

The first is, that Pharao was not dri­uen to suche outrage by any violence [Page 181] o [...] force of Gods behalfe, as S. Paule declareth him self unon after. The other point is, that the wickednes of Pharao was therfore tolerated a great while of God, the most wise and bountiful Lord of al things, (which out of euil thinges draweth euermore some good, and bringeth thinges disordered into good order) that by shewing one example of [...]ueritie, he might kepe a great many men in wel doing. And this may ap­peare much better, if we will trie the wordes at the Hebrew fountaine, for this sentence might very well be tran­slated after this sorte. For this cause haue I suffred thee to stand, that I may sh [...]we my power to theo, and that my name may be honoured in al the earth. He sayeth not, I haue taken away thy wittes from thee, and I haue caused thee to be madde, that thou shouldest continually rebell against mee: but, I haue suffred thee a greate while, and haue differred thy due punnishmente, [Page] that I mighte reserue it to the greater setting out of my glorie, and the salua­tion of many men.

He called Pharao both to faith and also to honestie. But for so much as Pharao regarded not the goodnesse of God, but ranne on like a wild colt vp­on an vnbridled affection: it stode ve­rie wel, not onely with Goddes iu­stice, but also with his mercie, that many menne should by the most iust example of Pharao be put in feare, and so brought to good ordre. For as the gouernours of common weales doe vse to out of with constant seue­ritie, such as they can not redresse by lighter punishmentes, to the ende that they may by the terrour of that pu­nishment keepe the rest of the citizins in ordre: euen so doth that most high gouernour shew sometimes an exāple of seueritie vpon them, that wil not be refourmed, but wil vpō sinne wickedly cōmitted heape a shamelesse defence: [Page 182] that he maie by the deathe of those lewd persons benefite the whole, and that he may, in punishing the wicked, shew many points of his high mercie.

What is the cause then, that we see that word so often repeted: And God hardened the heart of Pharao. To har­dē is, to g [...]ue vnto wicked men, which do abuse good thīgs vnto malice, some matter with the which they may en­creace their syn and stubbornes. Kno­west thou not, saith S. Paule, that the goodnes of God mooueth the to pe­nāce? But thou, according to thy hard­nes and vnrepentaunt hart, doest trea­sure vp to thy self displeasure. In like maner therefore God caused not that hardnes in Pharao: but Pharao refused the mercie of God, and of a certaine hardnes and frowardnes, that was roo­ted in him, abused the clemēcy of God vnto greater syn, and so encreased the heape of Gods wrathe towardes him euery day more and more.

[Page] Now marke how wonderfully the Apostle linketh together his argumēts▪ First of al he declareth, that to be a true Israelite cometh not of mans nature, but of the grace of God. Then he con­firmeth the iustice of God, by the greatnes of his grace, which is offred freely to al men, that wil vse it. For by that mercie it is euidently seene, that such as perished, perished through theyr owne default: and this doth he declare more plainly by the example of Pha­rao, the whiche refused the mercie of God, and was willingly forlorne: that it might be gathered by this, that the Iewes fell in like manner through their owne wilful blindnes, bicause their hearte was to obstinatly bent and har­ [...]lened in wickednes: and that their dā ­nation is not to be imputed vnto God, which called them to saluation▪ but vn­to their owne naughtines and stubbor­nes, whiche refused the goodnes of God. Vpon this the Apostle bringeth [Page 183] in these wordes. Wherefore he taketh Rom. 9. [...].mercie on whome he wil, and harde­neth whom he wil. The which is not so to be taken, as though the thing that God willeth, he willeth it without great good reason. For the wil of his euerlasting wisedome can not be sun­dered from vnderstanding, reason, and aduisement. And his will is to rewarde the faith of the chosen, not as of dew­tie, but according to grace. His wil is also to withdraw his helpe and aide, from such, as refuse it, ād to suffer them to be of a corrupt iudgement. Hereup­pon S. Paule sayeth: Then you wil say Ibidem.vnto me: Wherefore doth he yet com­plaine? For who shal withstand his wil? In these wordes S. Paule bringeth in the person of a presumpteous man, the which iudged rashly of the counsel of God, and vnderstandeth this sentence of the scripture naughtily: and he ma­keth him to speake very vngodly, that he may the better stop the mowth of [Page] vngodlines it selfe. If this be true, saith euery wicked person, that God taketh mercy on whom he wil, and whō him listeth, he refuseth him, and hard­neth his hart, and no man can resist his wil: then he that synneth, sinneth of ne­cessity. If he do syn of necessity, wher­fore doth God so often cōplaine of the hardenes and crueltie of wicked men?

This synful and presumpteous talke S. Paule cōfuteth two waies. First of al, he sheweth, that it is a presumpteous act, to iudge of the iugemēt of god. For euen for this cause only, that a thing is don bi god, although we vnderstād not the reason of it, yet must we assuredly thinke, that it was done, not without great reason. Then he declareth the counsel of God, by the which he hard­neth, that is to saie, beareth long time with the wicked, and at the length lea­ueth them destitute of his aide and healpe, that he may suffer them to pe­rish Rom. 9. d.to the profite of manier. O man, saieth the Apostle, who art thou, that [Page 184] reasonest with God? Doth the thing, which is fourmed, saie vnto him that fourmed it, why hast thou made me so? May not the potter make of one lump of claie one vessel to honour, and an o­ther to dishonour? In which place you may cōsidre by the name of a pot, that it is not a worke which is determined without reason, but such a thinge, as is done by workemāship. Wherin he ge­ueth you to vnderstand this much. If the potter, as a potter, doth what so e­uer he doth, by art: much more doth God al things, by art, reson, and coūsel. S. Paul therfore speaketh after this sort. O man wilt thou not loke circūspectly about thee? wilt thou not acknowlege the frailtie of thy nature? wilt thou not cōsidre the wisdom and power of god? Wilt thou not dreade his Maiestie? If there were any sense in earthen ves­sels: surely suche vessels were not to be borne withall, as woulde dispute with the potter, whiche made them, [Page] of the workemanship wherwith they were made. Much lesse is the presum­pteousnes of a seelie man to be borne▪ the which improueth the iudgemente of that most excellent gouernour, and in an endlesse and incomprehensible wisedom findeth lacke of cunning and skill. Art thou at that point in deede? The thing, the cause and reason wher­of thou art not able to atteine vnto by wit, wilt thou by and by stand vnto it, that it is void of al reason? The potter maketh by arte one vessel for honour, an other for dishonour: and loke what is made by arte, no man may wel finde fault withal. And wilt thou saie, that the thing, which is made of that most high and perfecte wisedome, (in the which neither rashnesse, neither vniu­stice may rest) is made vndiscretely and vniustly? By these wordes S. Paul intend [...]th only to put vs to vnderstād, that it is a very grieuouse offence, to trie the iudgements of God by the ba­lance [Page 185] of mans reason, and to doubt of his iustice. He doth therefore onely keepe downe vnreasonable presump­teousnes, and fraieth rash and prowde 'menne, by denouncing vnto them the iudgement of god.

After that he declareth, what is to be holden as touching this question. These are his words. If so be, that God Rom. 9. [...].willing to shew his wtath, and to make his power knowen, hath suffered the vessels of wrath with much patience, which were shaped to destructiō, that he might shew the ritches of his glory towardes the vessels of mercie, the which he hath prepared to glorie. It is an vnperfecte speach, the whiche manner of speaking S. Paule vseth oftē tymes. There lacketh either this, or some other thing like to this. And yet wilt thou reprooue the wise and iust counsel of god?

Now in these wordes, first of al it is to be noted, that God framed not the [Page] vessels of wrath. Truth it is, that God made nature vnto the vessels, but not synne, not vngodlines, not the rest of vices, which deserueth to be punished most sharply by the seueritie of Gods iudgement, (whiche the holie Scri­pture calleth wrath). For it cometh to passe by the wil of euery wicked man, that he is made the vessel of wrath, which would not be made the vessel of mercie. The whiche thing S. Paule meanīg to set forth more plainly, saith: He suffered. And being not satisfied with that word he saith moreouer: He suffred in much patience the vessels of wrath. What is this? What griefe is that so great? What torment is that so crewel, that, to the bearing of it, God neded patiēce, yea and that no mea [...], but exceding great patience? Doubt­les it is that, which is (if God were sub­iect to any griefe) of al griefes, that may be deuised, the greatest: to wit, it is vi­cious liuing, wickednes, and an obsti­nate [Page 186] wil to cōtinue in synne. For there is nothing els, that disagreeth with his vertue, goodnes, and wisedome: there is nothing els, that is directely against his most holy ordinaunces and lawes: to be shorte, there is nothing elles, that God doth moste extremely hate and derest. So that, it is no wonder, if a verie great patience were (to speake of God as of a man) needefull, to beare such a bitter torment. God therefore caused not this hardnesse of heart in Pharao, but he suffred with a certaine great patience the wilfull stubbornes of that most wicked man, whiche grieued his heart. The which thing to expresse the beter, S. Paule saith: Vessels made to destruction. He saith not: The vessels which God him selfe hath made to destruction: as he saieth a litle after of the vessels of mercie, the whiche God him selfe hath prepared to glorie: that you may vnderstande, that Godlie menne are [Page] appointed vnto glorie by the wil and mercie of God, and that wicked men are thrust out violētly into euerlasting tormentes, through euerie mans owne Esai. 50. dwilful synne: as Esaie saith. Goe into the fier, whiche you haue kendled for your owne selues. But to what ende, I praie you, did that most high Lord suf­fer so long time and with suche great patience the vessels of reproch? To shewe, saith the Apostle, his wrath: that is to say, to shewe the seueritie of his most holie iudgement, and the po­wer of his maiestie. Againe, I aske you: to what pourpose was it, to de­sire Rom. 9. c.to declare that vnto menne? To shewe, saieth he, the ritches of his glorie towardes the vessels of mercie, the which he hath prepared to glorie. For he doth al thinges for the chosens sake.

Now it remaineth, that we doe cō ­sider, what fruict doe the chosen take by setting the iudgemente of god, be­fore [Page 187] their eyes? Very great without doubt. For first of al, while the cho­sen see the wicked punished according to their desertes, it putteth a certaine feare of Gods iustice into their hartes, whiche causeth them to absteine from euil doinges. For the foundation of Prou. 1. a.true wisedō [...] is laied vpon the feare of God. Moreouer the vertue of the good being assaulted both by the priuy awaites, as also by the forcible attēptes of wicked personnes shineth a great deale the brighter. For vertue maketh a great shew of her selfe, when it is neither corrupted by the example of vicious menne, neither tourned away from the exercise of godlines through naughtie counsell, neither drawen from the loue of most holie Religion by threatninges or tormentes. Againe when they consider by the fal of the wicked, out of howe great thraldome they are delyuered by the mercie of God, they embrace their parent and [Page] redeemer with a much more feruent desire and earnest loue. Last of al the very holines it selfe of the euerlasting lawe, and the ordre of Gods iustice being set before the eyes and sight of good menne, bringeth them to a clee­rer vnderstanding of God, and causeth the mercy of God vsed towardes holy men to be the better knowen: and so increaseth their ioye. To the intēt ther­fore that the good might take so great and so manifold fruicts by the dānation of the wicked: god would not vse any such violence towardes the wicked, that they should cōmit sinne as being driuen vnto it of necessitie: but he suf­fred moste patiently their wilful fro­wardnes and stubborne obstinacy, that he might in the end tourne altogether to the glory of his chosen.

If you haue not vtterly lost al sense of a sobre man, you may see plainely, that free wil is not by the saying of S. Paule taken away, but rather verie [Page 188] surely established. These thinges the Apostle prosecuteth afterwarde more at large, and declareth at the length, howe the Iewes fell from God tho­rough their pride, arrogancie, vn­faithfulnesse, and obstinacie. For they were so puffed vp with a vaine affiaunce of a shadowed iustice, which stoode vpon the woorkes of the lawe, that they despised very stubbornly and wickedlye the true iustice, whiche consisteth in cleannes of life, in holi­nesse, in charitie, in peace, in ioye, and in other the like fourniture of hea­uenly vertues whiche by the holie ghost are planted in the mindes of god­ly men.

Now for so much as this is the say­ing and meaning of S. Paul, what rage was that, that came into that mad mās brain, the which wēt about by the au­tority of S. Paul to persuade such an o­pinion, as both ouerthrew good order emongest men, and falsly charged God [Page] with vniustice? For what right is it, that wicked men should be punished for a wicked acte, whiche they cōmit­ted, not willingly, but being violently driuen vnto it by an euerlasting and external power.

Luther say you, set out a Booke, in the whiche he spake earnestly against the hurly burlies in Germanie. What if some one of them, whom he rebuked, should haue said vnto him euē then: ô Luther, why dost thou blame vs innocēt men? whie keepest thou such a stirre? whie plaiest thou the madde man? we haue learned of the, that it is not in vs to do any thing good or euil: in so much that we are not free, so much as to thinke such thinges, as we would. For God worketh al things in vs, as you say: and we are only certaine working tooles, the which god thrusteth out with his hand, whether so euer him listeth, and wrēcheth vs foreward and backeward at his pleasure. These tourmoiles ther­fore [Page 189] ādseditiō, for the which you blame vs, God al only, as you teach, hath stir­red vppe. For so much as therfore, that most mighty Lord, whose power can not be hindered by any strēgth of man, is the mouer, the deuiser, yea the doer of this stirre, whie blame you vs for it? Whie reuile you vs? Whie labour you vainly to withdraw vs from this sedi­tion? If anie man, I saie, of that multi­tude, whiche Luther tooke vp with suche sharpe woordes, had saied thus much vnto him: I praie you, what an­swere woulde he haue made? With what honest shifte woulde he bothe maintaine his doctrine, and defend the iustice of God?

But to let Luther passe: what saie you sir Luthers aduocate, which saie, that he was sent from God: how maie you (if you approoue his doctrine and rules) punish male factours? If there be no freedome, if mans will be tied, if al power be taken awaie, if the verie [Page] thoughtes be fettered, if al things, both greatest, and least, and middlemost, be bownd with an euerlast necessitie, if God be the authour and doer of all things both good an euyl: vndowbted­ly those seelie wretches, which you (as I take it) commaunde to be had awaie to execution, haue done nothing. By what right doe you punish the inno­cent men? What reason haue you to put gyltlesse persones to death? who made this lawe, that the doers of fel­lony should be acquited, and the tooles or instrumentes of fellons cōdemned? with what kind of speach, are you able (if you minde to maintaine this do­ctrine) to rid that most high Iudge of the infamie of vniustice. Is this no vil­lanie? Is this no madnes? Is this no pre­sumpteous part of a rash and an vnbrid­led mind? And yet wheras Luther doth at one time both distourbe the order of mans life, and lay vnto gods charg, (like a most shameles varlet) the crime [Page 190] of vniustice: he is not afraied to saie, that he standeth in defence of Gods glorie, whiche he goeth about to de­face and ouerthrow.

You saie, that I doe condemne the first fownders of this doctrine, as no lesse wicked and vngodlie, then if they Protag. and Diag. thought there vvas no God.were like vnto Protagoras or Diago­ras. I am not so blunt, that I woulde saie so. I thinke them not onlie com­parable with Diagoras in wickednes, but also incōparably worse then euer he was. For I take it to be more tole­rable, to thinke that there is no God, then to thinke that God is a malefa­ctour and vniust.

Now as towching prouidence (that I maie once cōclude this matter) I saie no more but this. If the prouidence of ProuidēceGod be a counsell determined by the foreknowledge of thinges, if the word of election, if the purpose of God, that is to saie, the preuēted iudgement and euerlasting decree do import a reason [Page] and meaning: then doth he confesse the prouidence of God, which bele [...] ­ueth, that there was nothing apointed and ordeined of God from before the begynning of the worlde without ve­rie great counsell, iustice and reason. And contrarie wise, thei that saie, that God hath sorted out of the common lumpe of mankind such as he woulde directe vnto euerlasting glorie, and Protestāts denie Gods pro­uidence.such as he would apoint vnto euerla­sting dānation, vpō none other reason or cōsideration, but bicause him listed so to doe: how so euer they maintaine the prouidence of God in word, they denie it in deede. For he that taketh awaie the meaning and reason, taketh awaie prouidence.

But will you see, how like a babler you prosecut the rest of your matters? Your woordes are these. At the length when you haue scholded your fill, you be­gynne to conclude somewhat, making a totall somme of all suche thinges, as you [Page 191] complaine haue ben ouerthrowen by our men: and you aske what thing hath suc­ceded in their roome. O M. Haddon I haue iust cause to complaine. For I see none other thing set vp in the steede of them, but only that woorshipfull acte of yours, in the which you glorie so muche, and therfore you repete it verie often. For the superstitious ydle [...]es of lurking hypocrites, saie you, we haue set vp the necessarie busines of Christian profession: for wandering pleasures, most honourable marriage: for the dreames of mens inuentions, the holie Scriptures of God the Father, and of our Lorde Iesus Christ. The wast and hauoke of holie thinges I see: but what you haue re­stored in their roome I see nothing, as I told you before, except it be, for most godlie quietnes, most wicked stirring: for the loue of chast life, filthie and incesteouse ribaudrie: for the puritie of most holie doctrine, most pestilent errours of desperate felowes.

[Page] Would God, saie you, ye had here bro­ken of your most reprochful epistle: Of like you are not ashamed of your tauntes, which you haue gathered together with­out anie cawse in the world. I assure you, I am wearie of the rehersal of them. To what purpose is it, to repeate so often, without argumēt, without comely grace, without any likely hod of truth, those your so shameles and vnreasonable errours, in the eares of the Quenes maiestie, yea in the eares of al Christ endume? How stā ­deth this geare together, M. Haddon? Saied you not before, that I was an ex­cellent framer of wordes and senten­ces? Confessed you not, that you liked wel my kind of vtteraunce? Haue you not called me often times in this your booke Cicero his scholer? Wherfore then saie you now, that my epistle was written without anie argument (as for the comelie and pleasaunt grace I wil saie nothing?) By like, when you com­mended mine eloquence, you spake [Page 192] not in earnest and as you thought. You dalied with me, Sir pleasaunce, you dalied: and the ladie Venus, in the honour of whome you haue propha­ned and vnhalowed the tēples of cha­stitie, hath besprinkled you with her comelie and pleasaunt graces. How­beit I thinke this very much to be mis­liked in this your pleasauntnes, that it can not be well perceiued, when you speake in earnest, and when you sport. But peraduenture you thinke it a cō ­mendation of a sharpe witte, to speake darkly, and therefore you vse it in dis­putation also. But howe often you caste me in the teeth with the name of Cicero? As though I shoulde be ashamed of hym, or els thought my selfe hable to expresse in my wri­tinges anie parte of his witte, vehe­mencie, and copie: as though I had studied Cicero only, and had not spent verie muche time in other▪ the hi­ghest pointes of learning. But you like [Page] a foxie lawier and wilie proctour, haue made a verie good prouiso, that no man maie wel laie the name of Cicero to your charge. For you speake no­thing in cleane speach, nothing plain­ly, nothing distinctely, nothing order­ly, nothing grauely, nothing eloquent­ly. What so euer liketh you, you put it in: and then you prooue it, not by ar­gument and reason, but by railing and shameles talke. At the length as though you had wonne the field, you pricke me with the bristles of your reproche­ful tongue, you presse me with a num­bre of apish questions▪ you triumph like a noddie before the victorie. Whervp­on you saie thus?

What saie you good sir? And then? S. Paul detesteth it: Ierome Osorius is not afraied to auouch it. As though I affir­med that thing, whiche you there de­nied, or els meaned to dispute with S. Paul, and not with Luther. And again. What saieth, Ierome Osorius? And again. [Page 193] Doe I make anie thing? Doe I chaunge anie thing? And with these woordes for sooth, you would haue seemed to be a vehement speaker [...] this of the, M. Haddon, if you can (bicause your [...] lucke was to chaunce vpon such a maister, which brought you vp so foolishly and so ignorātly) that these questions are then both gra [...]e and ve­hement in deede, when the aduersarie i [...] cōuinced by some firme and sure ar­gument. For otherwise they are verie [...]olish and to be laughed at: for so much is they haue no vehemēcie or strength in the worlde, but only a declaration of a certaine pitifull pang or heat of the stomake. So God healpe me, as I could not sometime (although your talke seemed vnto me verie much to be pi­tied) hold my selfe frō laughing. And so I am fully discharged of my promise, whiche I made you, that, in case you could driue me either by grownded reasons, or els by true exāples to geaue [Page] my assent vnto you, I would not refuse it. For neither haue you brought anie argument, neither alleaged any ex­ample, that was to the pourpose: and y [...]t, as though you had borne your self like a pretie man, you rage and reuel in wordes, and keepe a meru [...]lous pitifull and frantique stirre. I can not deuise, what wicked sprite it should be, that put you in mind to take this charge of writing vpon you. Yet I meane not, but that you maie doe, as you thinke good: neither wil I limite you in suche sorte, that you maie not in writing shew your selfe to be as foolish, as you list. And to put you in good comfort, take this of my worde, that no man, which is of anie iudgement, wil find fault with you, for be­ing to much a Cice­ronian.

IT foloweth now, that we make answere vn­to your other com­plaint, in the whiche you seme to take that part of myne epistle very grieuously, wherin I reckened vp the impudencie, the robberies, poy­soninges, conspiracies and other de­testable vices, so manie, that my mai­ster Cicero, as you faie, neuer hea­ped vp moe against Verres, with the whiche I shoulde saie, that England was atteinted. Wherin you shew ve­rie plainly, that you read those my let­ters with litle heede. For it was ne­uer my meaning, to condemne all Englande of suche vices. For I knowe, there are in that Iland ve­rie manie godlie and religious men, [Page] which neuer fel from the holy church, but would gladly yeald their liues for the glorie of Christ, if neede so requi­red. Yea manie haue alreadie by their most honourable death set out their faith excedingly: manie haue abiden imprisonement, reprochful woordes, with diuers other incōmodities: manie being loth to see suche a decaie of re­ligion, wander from place to place of their owne accord like banished men and outcastes, and haue liefer to keepe a continual combat with miserie and needines, then to beholde with their eies so heauy a sight. The which thing verie manie other men would do also, if you would suffer them. Moreouer and this I heare that ther are certaine places within that Ilād, vnto the which the infectiō of this morreine is not yet come: and it is reported that there are manie noble men also, which are vn­towched. A frind of myne, an honest and credible person, which hath some [Page 195] doinges in England, tolde me this for certaine, that there are moe in the realme, that continue in their faith stil, then there are of such as haue forsaken it: howbeit they dare not professe it openly, for feare of them, that are in authoritie. For it is lawful for them, so long as they are not required to pro­fesse their faith openly, to keepe it to them selues, vntill such time, as, they must either maintaine their religiō by suffring death, (if they be put vnto it) or els reserue them selues to a better worlde, to the ende that all good men decaie not at once. And as for them, whose heartes are not blinded with pride, which are caried awaie, not so much of malice and naughtines, as of simplicity of mind (of the which there are verie manie) maie verie easily be brought home againe. Wherefore I saied not, that al the Iland was geuen to suche vices, neither haue I laied downe al hope of the recouerie of the [Page] whole: no, I trust to see within these few daies such an alteration of things, that the verie remembrance of this most pestilent plague shalbe vtterlie abolished.

Furthermore I meant not in those my letters (as I tolde you before) to make anie enditement or accusation, but to aduertise your Prince, that she should not suffer her self to be infected with the pestilent sectes of desperate felowes: the which thing that I might doe it the better, I declared certaine tokēs, by the which true religiō might be discerned from false religiō, and true Prophetes frō false Prophetes. In the doing wherof if I lacked discretion, we shal see anon. Thus much haue I spokē concerning my letters, the which you saie were writen without good argu­ment, and without anie comely grace. Wherin I find a great lacke of grauitie in you: for it is not the part of a graue mā, to be moued with a talke, which is [Page 196] void of all good argumēt. And yet you (as a man maie wel cōiecture by your writinges) after you had read my let­ters, fell into such a pelting chafe, such a rage and madnes, that you betraied your griefe by reprochfull and railing talke: yea you went so farre in it, that you were not ashamed to bewraie to the worlde the verie stammering and stuttering of your tongue.

You confesse also, that my letters were caried vp and down throughout al Christendome, the whiche shoulde not haue ben done, if they had ben written without anie good grownd.

But let vs see, how you, which saie that I had no argument to staie vpon, will answere that myne argument, by the whiche I prooued, that the puritie of the Gospel was not restored by your maisters, for so much as emon­gest the disciples of your Gospel there raigneth a numbre of most detestable vices. Tushe, saie you, it is all false, [Page] that you report of the dishonestie of the men of our side. Such is your impudēcy, M. Haddon, that you will denie the thing, which is knowen and commōly bruted, yea which is sealed and cōfir­med by the testimoniall of the whole worlde. Doe you not cōfesse the broi­les and tumultes of Germany? See you not with your eyes, how volupteous­nes flieth to and fro auancing her selfe? how licentious liuing getteth vp and down vncōtrolled? how the churches of religious men are prophaned with bloudshead? how al places of deuotiō are rifled and robbed how treason and wilie practises are wrought againste Princes by your sectaries? how al pla­ces, where so euer your maisters set vp schoole, are distourbed with hur­ly burlies? How then dare you saie, that that thing was neuer done, which you not only heare of other men, but also see it done daily with your owne eyes?

[Page 197] Admit, say you, that this were true: yet could it neuer com of this cause which you gather. I would faine learne of you, how it should not come of this cause. There was alwaies, say you, darnel so­men emongest the good corne. There was alwaies seedes of diuerse kindes, of the which some were choked in the thornes, and some were dried vp by the heate of the sonne. The false Prophettes did al­waies bende them selues against the true Prophets: our Lord Iesus Christ fownde Caiphasses; the Apostles found Nerons: the Martyrs, that folowed them, founde Decies. But to omit these thinges as o­uer stale, I wil bring you home to your owne doores. In your Churche is there not synne committed openly? Do not men offend in the sight of the worlde? You de­ny it not. Wel then, throwe away your ar­gument, the whiche either it is of no force, or els, if it be, it is against your owne selfe firste, and against your Chur­che.

[Page] By this talke you thinke, that you haue tourned the eadge of our dag­ger. But you see not, howe manie faultes there are in it. Firste of all I deny not, that it was euer so (as I said plainely in my letters) that there were manie vices in euerie common weale, and that the seades of naugh­tines were sowen emongest the good corne. But I required (and that instāt­ly) to vnderstand, how these menne of god had discharged their duetie, which tooke vpon them to purge the corne, and to plucke vppe al such weedes are were noisome to the corne. The which thing when I saw they perfor­med not, yea, when I saw that through their diligence vice came vp a great deale ranker then it did before, I ga­thered by that, that their doctrine was nothing wholesome. That the true Prophetes susteined the enmitie of false Prophetes, Christe of Caiphas, the Apostles of Nerons, the Martyrs [Page 198] of Decies, I graunt you: but that ma­keth much more for the confirmation of myne argument. For vertue was euer enuied of the wicked, hatesull to viciouse, assaulted by the vnfaith­ful. Vertue e­uer assaul­ted, and yet pre­uaileth.And yet was it alwaies of suche puyssaunce, that it preuailed against al crafte and policie, against all sub­tile practises and priuie awaites, a­gainst the force of wickednesse and vice, and brought to the world a good­ly and wholesome ordre. For they that gaue eare to the Prophetes, that folowed Christ, that kept the faith of the Apostles, that reuerenced the cō ­stancie of the Martyrs, were not pre­sumpteouse, wicked, disordered, and vicious: but they were wise, modest, gētle, courteous, decked and beutified with diuerse and sundry vertues. For the vertue of holy mē, the more it was assaulted, the greater and goodlier in­crease it yealded of godlie fruict. But your doctours whiche were sent, as [Page] you say, from heauen into the worlde, hauing the aide of great Princes, being garded by the common people, yeal­ded no fruicte of honestie, chastitie, or meekenesse to such as folowed them.

I speake not of your aduersaries, by whom you wil complanie peraduen­ture, that your brethren haue benne wrongfully withstoode, euen as the Martyrs were some tyme by the De­cies: but I speake euen of them, that loue Luther, Bucer, Zwinglius, and your Martyr, that praise and reuer [...]ce them, yea that esteeme them as gods: I say, that they them selues, whiche procured to haue these wise men to be their schoolemaisters, prooued ne­uer a whit the better: whereby it is concluded, that their doctrine was no­thing wholesome, euen to suche as did not only not disalowe it, but also esteemed it very highly.

Now whereas you demaund of me of our Church (for so you speke) whe­ther [Page 199] it be voide of al synne: I haue al­readie lamented the synful life of our men very oft. There raigneth, I graūt you euen at this day emongest vs both coueteousnes and ambition in manie: neither is volupteousnes grubbed vp by the rootes.

Why then, say you, the argument, which I vsed, may easily be tourned against our own selues. How so I pray you? If there should arise some great prophet emōgst vs, which would take so great a charge vpon him, as to purge and fine the gospel to restore the aun­ciēt discipline, to proppe vp the Chur­che, which tendeth to ruine, with hea­uenly doctrine, to bring his disciples to liue like Apostles: if we should folow hi and yet that notwithstāding liue in vice as we did before, then were this a good argument, both against our pro­phete, as also against our owne selues. But the brightnesse of this so cleere light hath not yet shined vppon vs: [Page] wherefore it is no wonder, if we con­tinue stil in our accustomed synnes. But to you, whome the sprite hath replenished with a certaine new light, which might very easily haue ben in­structed in heauenly thinges, by suche men, as were sent frō heauen for your saluation, whiche are by the goodnes of God already deliuered from super­stition and hypocrisie which despise al wordly thinges, and wil suffer nothing to be mingled with the puritie of your Doctrine, vnlesse it be drawen out of heauen: to you, I say, it were nothing seemely to haue any daungerouse dis­ease or cracke of vncleane vice. For, if you haue: your doctours, whome you commende aboue the skies, you shame them for euer, and their Do­ctrine you declare by your doinges to be not only vnprofitable, but also hurt­full and pestilent. But for so much as you desire to vnderstande the state of our Churche, I will declare it vn­to [Page 200] to you, so briefly as is possible.

The state and belefe of the Ca­tholike Churche. Firste of all, we doe moste con­stantly hold and mainteyne the Gos­pol, not of Luther, Melanchthon, Ca­rolostadius, Zwinglius, Caluine or Bucer, but of Matthew, Marke, Luke and Iohn: and we keepe one faith, not this newly deuised faith, whiche is ioyned with a rash and vayne pre­sumption: but that faith, which was taught by the Apostles, and is not cor­rupted through the naughtines of out­ragious and mad men.

In lyke manner we are inclosed within one Churche, whiche was sownded by Christ, instructed by the Apostles, fortified by the aide of the Martyrs, sette out by the Doctrine of holie menne, defended and kepte alwaies inuincible by the power of the holy Ghoste in spite of the malici­ouse and violent attemptes of all Ho­re [...]iques: and without this Churche, we beleeue assuredly [...], that there [Page] is no hope of saluation.

This Church we acknwolege to be so linked in one meaning, in one spi­rite, in the agreeable confession of one faith, yea to be fast glewed together with such agreemēt in religiō, that no man can possibly by deuising new opi­nions (such as may concerne the prin­cipal points of religion) rend and teare it into a numbre of sectes iarring and squaring the one with the other with­out al reason and ordre.

And bicause we know by the gos­pel, by the testimonie of Martyrs, by the faithful and agreable report of ho­lie menne, by reason and common ex­perience of thinges, that it is not possible, that the Churche should be one, excepte it haue one supreme Gouernour the Vicar of Christe▪ whiche may by his inu [...]olable autho­ritie ioyne together thinges separa­ted, knitte vppo thinges loose [...], and keepe all me [...]ne in one faith and [Page 201] vnifourme order: we do most willing­lie obeie the Bishop of Rome, which as Christes deputy exerciseth this so great office in the earth, and what so euer is cōmaunded vs by him, we do it with­out any refusal. And the very experi­ence of thinges maketh vs to do it the more willinglie, bicause we see, that, where so euer this authoritie is taken awaye, there breaketh out by and by many pestilent and troublesome sects. That this power is builded not vppon any decree of man, but vpon the ordi­naunce of Christe him selfe, it is moste euidently proued, not only by the au­thoritie of the holie Scripture, but also by the testimonie of all the antiquitie, (wherein we are not ignorant).

We refuse not the authoritie of any lawfull power. For we beleeue, as S. Rom. 13. aPaul teacheth vs, that al lawful power is ondeined by God: so that, who so euer resisteth a lawfull power, is to be taken as though he didde resist [...] [Page] not men, but God him selfe. For this cause we beleue, that not only the de­crees of Popes, but also the ordinances of Kings (such as are not cōtrary to the law of God) are most diligently to be obserued and kept. Emongest the ordi­nances of mē this choise we make. Al such as cause a slackenes in the keping of the law of God, we reiect, as the de­uises of men: but al such as prouoke vs to be more earnest in the obseruation thereof, we iudge to haue ben ordei­ned, not without the instinct of the holy Mar. 9. f.Ghost. For Christ saied: He that is not against you, is for you. For this cause, we thinke that the rules of Ba­sile the great, of Benet, Bernard, Bru­nus, Frauncis, Dominike, and other the like singular good and holie men, suche as tende to the perfection of a Christian lyfe, are not to be sette at naughte. For they are all written to this ende, that suche as binde them selues vnto them, may the more wil­lingly [Page 202] keepe the chastitie of body, and cleanes of heart▪ the which two things are conteined in the counselles of the Gospell) and may with a great deale more freedome and cheerelinesse sing and prayse God daie and night, and so with the more facilitie folow the lyfe of Angels here in earth.

If we see any decaie in their man­ners through loosenes or negligence, we thinke it expedient to prouide out of hand, that it may be streightly boūd vp by the rigour of the olde discipline, and not to ouerthrow the place, where men may liue so godly and so wonder­full a life. And bicause we can not be weaned from the acqueintaunce of the bodie so much as it were to be wis­shed we coulde: bicause we vnder­stande, that the beginning of mans mi­serie procedeth of negligence and for­getfulnes, what so euer thing mai bring vs to remember the bowntifulnes and mercy of God, we vse it very diligētly.

[Page] Therfore euen as we make the signe Crosses.of the Crosse vpon our forehead (the which manner S. Basile referreth to a tradition of the Apostles) so doe we set vp Crosses not onely in Churches, but also in our howses and highwaies, to the end, that the remembraunce of so great a benefite should neuer depart out of our minde. For if God, when he deliuered the peple of Israel by the diligence of Moyses out of the weake dominion of Pharao, gaue order vnto them, that they shoulde alwaies haue, before their eyes, in their handes, and in such places of their howses as were in sight, some monument of that bene­fit: how much more diligently ought we to doe it, which are redeemed, not by the meane of Moyses, but hy the benefite of that most bountifull Lord, which was offred vp for vs, from euer­lasting darkenes and damnation, into euerlasting light, libertie, and glorie?

For the same cause were the Ima­ges [Page 203] of holy men set vp of olde time (as Images o [...] Saintes.it is declared before) that men behol­ding them, should be moued the ofte­ner to bend their mindes to thinke vp­pon those men, whiche walked more feruently in the steppes of Christ, and to dispose them selues the soner to fo­low their godlines and vertue. For in holie men, we doe not so much reue­rence the men them selues, as the ma­iestie of Christe, whiche dwelleth in their heartes. For they are the sonnes of God, the brothers of Christe, the heires of the euerlasting and heauenlie kingdome: the whiche state all suche haue atteined by the benefit of Christ, as haue so nailed their senses vpon the Crosse, that there liueth none other thing in them, but only the spirit, will, and pleasure of Christ: as S. Paule said: Gal. 2. d.I liue, now not I, but Christ liueth in me. And so we honour in holy men a most excellent gift of God, a verie ex­presse Image of God, yea (after a ma­ner [Page] of spech) certain Gods, in the brightnes of whome we extol and praise for euermore the moste high and euerla­sting benefite of God.

The Catho like faith. Now the faith, in the which we liue, is such, that it doth neither minish our hope in attempting any good woorke, neither wipe away quite all feare or doubt of saluation: but it bringeth the wel disposed mindes in hope of godli­nes and vertue, and it driueth withall now and then a certaine feare into all such, as think vpon the rigour of Gods iudgementes. For Christe, which by his bloud hath drowned synne (as it is writen) into the deapth, and hath fur­nished all suche, as are come vnto him with a liuely and true faith, with the giftes of holines, puritie and iustice, hath appointed euerlasting damnation to them, that refuse to obeie his com­maundemente. For he was made the Heb. 5. c.cause of euerlastinge saluation, not to euerie man, that boasteth of faith, but [Page 204] to suche as obeie him (as Sainct Paul [...] saieth).

Workes. Wherefore we beleeue, that the woorkes of holie menne are not di­steyned with anie vncleanes of synne (for that were a derogation and dis­honour to Christe, for so muche as they are donne by his grace and po­wer) and we knowe for certaine, that suche as thinke not, that the lyfe of manne is to be spente in doing ho­lie woorkes, (if they continue in that lewde opinion) shalbe tormēted in hel for euermore.

We confesse, that men being desti­tute of the aide and grace of Christe, can neither doe, nor endeuour, no nor thinke any thing, that is auaileable to euerlasting saluation: and therfore we beleeue, that all hope of saluation, all the meane to atteine vnto true ho­nour, all the staie of lyfe euerlasting resteth in the mercie of God. And Free vvill.yet we beleeue this assuredlie, that it [Page] lieth in vs, either to refuse, or els to ac­cept thankefully this benefite, when it is offered vnto vs. And as we doe not deface, neither the signes of the holie Crosse, neither the Images of Christe, neither the monumentes of holy men: so do we thinke, that the reuerent or­dre Ceremo­nies.of al ceremonies, and the religious vsage of holie Sacramentes (I meane not any newefourmed ordre, deuised and trimmed by the witte of fine M. Haddon, but that most old and aunci­ent vsage, whiche was approoued by the ful agreement of the holy Fathers, as it may easily appeare by their wri­tinges) is moste reuerently and inuio­lably to be obserued and kept.

Penance. When we fall, we thinke it expedi­ent foorth with to haue recourse to the Churche, and to the iudgement of the Confessiō.Priest. There is made a due examina­tion of the sinne, and it is seene howe great the deformitie of it was: wher­vpon the mind, which is now ashamed [Page 207] of such vncleanes, doth the more ear­nestlie hate and detest the offence cō ­mitted, and a [...] keth pardon humbly, and is absolued by the sentēce of the Priest, whiche representeth the personne of Christ: but yet so, that he must discret­ly submit him selfe to such order as the Mat. 10. d.Priest will inioyne him. He that hea­reth Luc. 10. c.you saith our Sauiour Christ, hea­reth Io. 13. c.me, and he that despiseth you, de­spiseth me.

Our Lords Supper. After this we come with feare and trembling, and with a good affiance of the mercie of God, vnto that most ho­ly and dreadful Sacrament of the body and bloud of Christ, in the which ban­ket we are so refreshed and strengthe­ned, that we doe withstand the tyran­nie of bodily lustes with a greater force and courage. And bicause it were a daungerouse matter to leaue all this to the wil and discretiō of euery man (for there are many sicke men, which will not be healed: and the life of the com­mon [Page] sorte is not so well gouerned by will, as by lawe and discipline) it hath ben ordeined vpon great considerati­ons, that all Christian men should be constreined to laie this so soueraigne a salue to their wounds at the least once euerie yeare. There are many, which come vnto this Sacramente often­times: but yet so, that they examine them selues before diligently, as Sainct Paule teacheth, and endeuoure them selues to wassh out all the spottes of synne by the merite of Christ, which they may most easilie obteine, if they will confesse and forsake their fore­mer lyfe. It is a wonder to see, what a multitude of menne is fedde enerie Sonnedaie and Holie daie in the yeare, with this Diuine and heauenly foode, and howe by the helpe of it they are stirred more earnestlie to seeke after heauenly richesse. For we see in them, that are oftentimes refreshed with the moste holy bodie of Christe, that the [Page 206] darkenes of sinne is driuen away, the light of heauen riseth, vertue and god­linesse are planted in them, the moste goodlie fruictes of iustice are powred vpon them abundantly.

The office of bishops Bishops, such as are able to preach, (the which hath ben litle regarded of some to the greate hinderaunce of the Church) do preach oftētimes. Such as are not able to discharge it themselues, appoint certain religious and wise per­sons, men wel learned, not in the rules of Bucer or your Martyr, but in the holy scripture, and in the bokes of the ho­ly Fathers, to instruct the people with chast, pure, and religious doctrine. And as we see it come to passe, especially in such as are bleare eyed, that, if they be either put into an extreme dark place, or els loke ouer steddily vpō the sonne beames, thei leese their sight: euen so, if mē either be altogether turned away frō the light of God, or els wil looke to intentiuely vppon it, before the blea­rednes [Page] of their minde be healed, they are striken stone blinde. Wherefore it is very wisely and warily prouided of vs, that we neither suffer the common people to lacke the light of Gods word any time, neither do we dasel their eies so muche with the brightnesse thereof (which they are not able to abide) that they may be therewithall miserablie blinded. We bring therfore none other thing in our sermons, but that, which we iudge effectual to bring men to the loue of godlines and folowing of cha­ritie, to the hatred of sinne and forsa­king of vncleanes of lyfe. And for this cause doe we set before their eyes of­tentimes, the crowne of euerlastinge glorie, and the paine of the euerlasting torment. But the daungerous questi­ons of darke and secret matters we do for good consideration leaue vntow­ched in such sermons as are made vnto the people. The authoritie of Bishops is great: in so much that, it is not very [Page 205] hard for them to restreine the vnbride­led lust of disordered persons, and to remoue them, that be obstinate in sin, from the Communion of the Church. Neither are such menne chosen to be Bishops, as may be either for basenesse despised, or for folishnes set at naught, or for notoriouse vices reprehended, and so do much hurt by their example.

The times of the yere The times of the yeare are so con­secrated and diuided with ordinarie and solemne ceremonies, that at all tymes there is somewhat done in the Church, which may renew in vs the remembrance of Gods graces and be­nefites.

Aduent. And, to beginne at the Moneth of Decembre, we are then styrred vp to remembre that time, in the which the holy Fathers of the olde time loked for the coming of the Sonne of God into the earth, and besought him with con­tinuall prayers to hasten it, and had a most earnest desire to see it: that we [Page] might the better vnderstande, howe muche we are bound and endebted to God, which hath graunted vs the ioy­full fruition of that moste excellent fruit, which the old Fathers, very holy men, and of God intierly beloued, so griedily lusted and longed after.

Christmas When the daie of Christes birth is come, we keepe watches, and singe hymnes and Psalmes by note: our or­gans also and others instruments sound euery where to the honour and praise of God: euery thing doth then stirre vs vp to beholde the Sonne of almightie God, the most excellēt Lord and maker of al the world, lying naked and crying in a mangier in the weake fourme of a sucking babe. We heare then with the eares of our heartes the voices of An­gels bringers of that glad tydinges: and we endeuour by faith to doe our ho­mage with the sheape [...]erdes vnto the King that is borne vnto vs: and fixing our selues in the contēplation of him, [Page 208] wee receiue the fruicte of incredible ioye.

Nevvyeres daie. The first day of Ianuarie, the Chur­che putteth vs in minde, to beholde the wound, which our Sauiour recei­ued that daie, and the Mysterie of cir­cumcision, and the moste dreadefull name of Ihesus, which is the pleadge of our saluation, and the lesson, which was then geuen vs, of that most per­fect obedience: and so by the strength and signification of this moste holie name, we labour muche more cheere­fully to atteine to the saluation, which is promised vs.

Tvvelse daie. What should I here saie of the most bright starre, which appeared to the Gentiles in the furthermost partes of the East?

C [...]delmas How might I expresse the incredi­ble ioy and pleasure of the holie man Simeon, when he bare the child in his armes? What should I here rehearse the exceeding gladnesse and cumfort, [Page] the which Anna the widowe concei­ued, or els the godli prophecies which shee pronounced, when shee beholde the Child? All these thinges hath the Churche set before our eyes with so­lemne pompe, and procession, and can­dels burning, to the intent, they should sincke the deeper into our heartes.

Now when the time of fasting dra­weth Lent.nero, we behold how Christ was baptised by Iohn in the floud Iordane: we here the voice of the Father: we consider the fast, wherwith the sonne of God punished his owne bodie: we record the tentations and wilie practi­ses of Satan against him: we endeuour our selues, as muche as we can, to set out the victorie of Christ: we call to minde the homage of Angels, which brought him meate and serued him. By this exāple of Christ we are taught, that we ought to kepe ftil that puritie and cleanes, whiche we receiued in the holie fount of Baptisme: that we [Page 209] should receiue the voice of the father commaunding vs to obeye him, with heart and minde: that we should sub­dewe the body with fasting, and en­counter with our old enemie the di­nel: to the end that▪ at the length, the battaile being fought, and the victo­rie by the mightie protection of God atchieued, we might be refreshed with heauenly foode and comforted by the ministerie of Angels. The holy Weeke.

When the time approcheth, in the which we mind to celebrate the sup­per of our Lord▪ to do so holy a worke with the greater deuotion, we pre­pare our selues much more diligently then at other tymes: and we doe it with gladnes and feare together. Then doe we consecrate the holy Oiles, by the which are fignified diuers gyftes and graces of the holy Ghost, accor­ding as S. Denyse and other holy Fa­ther write: and we minister the body of our Lord to al such as are readie to [Page] receyue it: and we wash the feete of poore men, not only with water, but also with many teares sometimes: and by this example we cause suche, as looke on, to powre out teares abon­dantly. But when we behold atten­tiuely Christ hanging on the Crosse: when we consider, how he was scor­ned, reuiled, tormented and put to death: when we pray for the saluation of all menns: when we come bare­footed to worship Christ in his Image: when we bring in God him selfe com­plaining of our misliuing: when we craue pardon for our synnes in moste humble and lowly wise: what man, thinke you, is then in the Churche, which is not foorth with stirred vp to forsake synne, and to folow a better or­dre of life?

But when Easter day is come, we vse suche honour and pompe, we sing Easter.suche Hymnes and Psalmes, to ad­uaunce the victorie and triumph of [Page 210] Christ raised from death, to set out the sacke and spoile of his enemies, to ma­gnifie his euerlasting kingdome and empire, that we may seeme for verie ioye and gladnesse to be besides our selues.

Ascension His ascension also we recorde in such sort, that we thinke it our part, to bend our selues, as much as we can, to clymme vp together with Christ into those goodlie dwelling places of hea­uen.

Witson­tide. What may be saide of that inesti­mable benefit, wherin the holy ghost enkendled the Disciples of Christe with the loue of God, and enflamed them with fyerie tongues, to the end that they should go throughout al the world, and wrap vp that heauenly fyer in the bowells of faithfull men? With howe great ioye and gladnesse is that feast also obserued and kept in all the Church? The feasts of Saincts

Moreouer whē we keepe the memo­rie [Page] of holy men, in whose heartes the maiestie of Christ dwelled, with dew reuerence: (for it is not lawful to se­parate them from the companie of Christ, whom he him selfe taketh vnto him as felowes and comparteners of al his goods) we are stirred vp to a hope of a certaine diuinitie, when we cast with our selues, how they, that are of the selfe samè nature that we be of, for the likenesse which they had with God in vertue, haue most happily at­teyned the state euen of Goddes.

The feasts of our Ladie. And as we doe most highly prayse the holines of other (as it becometh vs to do) so do we especially honour, re­uerence, and worship that singular pa­terne of cleanes, virginitie, and godli­nes, that heauēly and meruelous tēple of the holy ghoste, that most holy and immortal tabernacle of the euerlasting promise, out of the which riseth the sonne of iustice, to put away with the brightnes of his beames the darkenes [Page 211] of the whole worlde: and wee doe with right good affiaunce cal for the helpe of the sayd most blessed Virgin in our distresse and necessitie, and wee finde, that her prayers doe vs muche good often tymes before her Sonne.

The seruice of the Church is so or­dered, that, the yeare tourning about, there is no benefite of God, the remē ­braunce whereof the holy Churche wil suffer to be forgotten. And the Churche doth represent the memo­rie of al these benefites in such sorte, that it seemeth, that they are not so much declared in words, as expressed in doinges. For as the excellent Poete saith:

Al these thinges, which I haue here declared, with manie other of lyke [Page] sorte, whiche I haue omitted (for I thinke it not necessarie, to rehearse particularly euery point) are not (I graunt you) matters of perfection. They are certayne introductions and necessarie helpes for vs, whiche haue some what to doe as yeat with this mortall condicion, as we feele by ex­perience. For so often as these ordi­naunces of the Churche are litle Re­garded, the minde waxeth dul, dili­gence fainteth, the loue of religion slaketh, and so by litle there creapeth into our heartes a certayne forgetful­nes of vertue and godlinesse. Agayne, when we bende our mindes earnest­ly to sette vppe agayne those godlie ordres, we feele, that the loue of re­ligion and godlinesse is stirred and en­kendled in vs. And no meruaile. For why, the brightnesse of that light, which hath so wonderfully lightened your mindes, is not yet risen vnto vs: neither are we so weaned from the [Page 212] acqueintaunce of the body, that we may be without all these outward si­gnes of heauenly thinges any tyme without greate daunger. This is the ordre of the Churche, which is holy, simple, and one: this is the rule and Discipline, by the whiche all wee, whiche haue not yet atteyned vnto the highest degree of wisedome, are instructed.

Now I haue declared these thinges, it remayneth, that I tourne my talke vnto those your heauenly felowes, and men of God, the which being not contented with this beaten and com­mon discipline, haue taught their disci­ples a newe trade and doctrine which is more wonderful then this. Geue me leaue therefore to talke with them af­ter this sort.

It is a great matter (right woon­derfull Sirs) and a harde enterprise, whiche you haue taken in hande: a thinge of so greate importaunce [Page] in deede, as none of al those holy Fa­thers, whose vertue and witte we esteeme very much did euer attempt the lyke in all their life: to cure an old forgrowen disease with a new kind of medicine. When you sawe that the old discipline was fallen, that manners were decaied▪ that vnlauful lust rāged vp and downe without restraint, that the Church tended to ruine: you did, (as it became holy men sent from hea­uen) take it verie heauily. Wherein I can not blame you. For it was a mat­ter worthie of many teares and much bitter weeping. But you rested not so: bicause it were a token of a feint heart and weake stomake, to pitie the fal and ruine, and not to procure any other remedie for suche a mischiefe, but onely a fewe teares. You did not therefore, as we are woont to doe, sorowe and lament so great a mishap, and powre out teares vnto God for it: but you thought it good to prouide [Page 213] by your labour, studie, and wakefull diligence, that the Church should not be quite ouerthrowen. And who can denie, but that this is a token of an ho­nourable hart and a valiaunt cowrage. But let vs see, after what sort you haue perfourmed this so great, so weightie, and so worthie an enterprise.

I must therfore repete a sentence, whiche I vsed in my letters, for the whiche M. Haddon, a man brought vp in your rules and doctrine, quarelled with me verie sharply. What: haue you thought it expedient to heale the woundes, which the Christian cōmon weale hath taken, by such meanes, as the most holy Fathers vsed of old time in propping vp the Churche, when it was like to decaie? No, saie you: for they were the deuises of men: and so great a mischiefe coulde not be reme­died by mans healpe, but only by the staie and mightie power of God. And therfore you determined to forsake all [Page] wordlie healpes, and to sticke only to the word of God. Verie wel. For that is it in deede, which healeth the mind, fortifieth the strength, geaueth light to the soule, and bringeth it to euerlasting glorie. Wherfore I long to see some worke of this your word of god (wher­in you glorie so much) which maie be so notable and so vndoutedly wrought by God, that it mai appere to the world by it, that you did not without good cause set all other remedies at naught, and lay all the hope of your saluation vpō the only staie of this your gospel. But for so much as the kingdom of god that is to saie, the gospel and power of the word of God cōsisteth, not in the vaunt of woordes, but in a meruelous vertue: and this vertue standeth, not in vndiscret and sawcy talke, not in filthy and licentious liuing, not in bitter ha­tred and flamboldnes, but in modestie, cōtinencie, and charitie, in the workes of iustice, and loue of godlines: my de­sire [Page 214] is to surueie narrowely this your wōderful gentlenes; courtesie, softnes, patience, continencie, charitie, holines of life, and other the like vertues, which maie witnesse, that the Church hath ben preserued by you. But this can not be, saie you, before all suche thinges, as hinder this our great and godlie pourpose, be taken quite away. For it is the office and dewtie of the worde of God, to pul downe the olde howse, before the fowndacions of the new howse be laied. I take this also to be verie well and wisely spoken. For euen as a medicine pourgeth oholer or other noisome humours, which do molest the body, before it doth repaire nature being feeble and brought low: so was it expedient for you, to expell pride, coueteousnes, leacherie, and other disseases of the sowle, be­fore the Churche coulde receiue the comfortable nourishment of vertue and godlines. This deuise of yours I [Page] like verie well. But now I desire to know, how these hurtfull and pestilēt humours haue ben pourged by you. Oh, saie you, ther was nothing in the world so much against godlines, as su­perstition: wherfore our principal care was, to take awaie al superstition. You are not to be blamed for that: for in deede there is nothing so muche con­trarie to true vertue, as is false and counterfeicte vertue. Wel now, I will not demaund of you, howe you haue taken awaie superstition: for that is verie euident. You haue defaced the authoritie of the Bishop of Rome: you haue ouerthrowen the howses of Monkes and Nunnes: you haue laied hand on such goods, as were apointed to holie vses: you haue rifled churches: you haue bestowed the goods of them vpon whome you listed: you haue mi­nished the reuerence of the auncient ceremonies: you haue defiled the reli­gious vsage of Sacramentes: you haue [Page 215] throwen downe Images, monumētes, Crosses, and aulters: you haue condē ­ned the deuout teares and good works of holie men as naught and vngodlie: you haue disanulled the holie decrees, lawes, and ordinances of the Church: you haue cut of all hope of true ver­tue and honestie, by a certaine tyran­nical estate or inuincible kingdome of synne, which you haue ful clerkely by your doctrine set vp. Neither were you cōtented with this wast and spoile of thinges, but you haue also taken quite away the freedome of mans wil: and contrarie to nature and reason, cō ­trarie to the equity and iustice of gods lawe, you haue tied vp all the doinges and thoughtes of men, good and bad, wholesome and vnwholesome with a certaine fatall necessitie. These are the thinges (with manie other of like sort) whiche, I see, are by you, as the lettes and staies of wholesome doctrine, pulled downe, defaced, destroied, [Page] mangled and minced in peeces.

I doe not now bewaile the decaie and wast of holie thinges. For if the health of the church could not other­wise be recouered, if the Gospel could not otherwise be brought to his olde brightnes and dignitie, I could easily beare this losse, and it woulde not grieue me to see those thinges, that stande whole, the whiche you haue not yet destroied, to be vtterly rased withall.

Wherfore if you haue left anie thing vntowched, sette vppon it also, if it like you, shake it, pull it, hourle it downe vpon the grownde, so that you restore vs that auncient feruencie of godlines, that loue of iustice and equitie, that amplenesse of charitie, that contempte of wordlie thinges, that earnest desire of heauenlie life, with the whiche the Churche was inflamed of old time in the Apostles daies. This is the puritie of the Gos­pel, [Page 216] this is the excellent worke of the worde of God, in this standeth the whole perfourmaunce of your pro­mise. You can not discharge your dewtie and bande with anie meane vertue. For when I see the sacke and spoile, whiche you haue made, to be so great, howe might I thinke it to stande with right or reason, that you shoulde recompence it with anie meane commoditie? Wherfore I will aske you once againe, although M. Haddon be offended withall, I will earnestly demaunde, yea I will most instantly require of you, what thing is restored by you in the steede of all those thinges, whiche you haue pulled downe? I will repete the selfe same woordes, that I vsed in those my letters, whiche M. Haddon so muche reuiled.

What is ouerthrowen I see, but what is set vp, I see not: what is grub­bed vp by the roote I perceiue, but [Page] what is planted I perceiue not. Tell me, I praie you, what it is, to repaire the doctrine of the Gospell when it tendeth to decaie? What it is, to bring al thinges verie neere, as M. Haddon your disciple saieth, to the rules of Christian godlines vnto the most holie doctrine of the Apostles? what it is, to driue awaie with a newe light and brightnes the darkenes of errours, and mist of synne, in the which men liued? I think it be, to bring to passe, that men maie haue no wil to looke down vnto the earth, that they may be desirous to looke vp to heauenward, to become modeste and humble, to be inflamed with the loue of holines and chastitie, to be decked and beawtified with the cōmendable vertues of meekenes, pa­tience, grauitie, and constancie, to be verie obedient to the Rulers of the Churche, to yeald verie great honour and loue to the gouernours in the cō ­mon weale, to emploie their whole [Page 217] life, deuises and practises to a common profitte, to be zelously bent to wardes godlines and Religion, finally to make and prepare the way to heauē by god­ly vertues.

I demaund of you therefore, whe­ther there be anie one man amongest al those, that so much esteeme and re­uerence you, yea that sette you vp as Goddes, endewed with such a seruent loue of heauenly thinges, with suche chastitie and cleannes of life, that he wil not suffer him selfe to be disteined with any spot of dishonestie: with such patience and gentlenes, that, although he be prouoked with railing and di­spiteful language, he wil not only not offende in worde, suche as wronged him, but also wish them al good things and prosperitie: with suche louingnes and charitie, that he wil bestowe all his substance to the common profitte; with suche grauitie and constancie, that he wyll neuer be disordered: [Page] witn suche a burning loue of euerla­sting life and glorie, that he wil forsake all the light and vaine pleasures of the worlde, that he will pitch downe his Crosse, and dash against it all his vn­lawfull lustes: that he wil thinke vpon Christ only, and sit downe at his feete: that he wil loue God ernestly, and be, as it were, violently caried vp to hea­uen in mind and thought. With al these vertues did the Churche sometimes flourish: with these fier brādes of god­lie loue were men of olde time infla­med: from this most seruent loue of godlines coulde they not possibly be brought by anie terrour or tormentes. And this tooke you vppon you, to pourge the gospell thoroughly, to put to flight superstition vtterly, and to en­kendle againe the light of the aunciēt Church, which was put out.

Be therfore as good as your word, perfourme your promise, discharge your debt, into the whiche you are in­curred. [Page 216] Restore that puritie of mind, restore that chastitie of bodie, restore that feruencie of godlines, restore that continencie, and gentlenes, that peace and concord, that band of charitie and frindship, bringe your countreimen againe to that state, from the whiche we are al fallen: that you maie by such a wonderful alteration of thinges, and heauenlie example of vertue put vs to silence, to whome this newfanglednes is both suspected and hateful. As for vs, it is no meruaile, if we haue not as yet atteined this great and high perfectiō in vertue. For you haue not yet set out this goodlie light to vs. I aske this question therfore of such only, as take your part, how holily, how vpright­ly, how religiously they liue. For rea­son would, as I saied before, that we should looke for no meane matters at your handes. For you haue taken vpon you a charge of so great honour, magnificencie, and profite to the [Page] worlde, as possibly there can not be deuised a greater. Wherefore vn­lesse your adherentes and disciples doe so much excell in vertue and ho­nestie al other men, that are vertuous and godlie, (and yet be not of your schoole) that they maie dymme the light of their vertue, and put them out of conceite: you haue not fulfil­led your promise. For if the selfe same degree of honestie might haue ben kept and mainteined by vs, without the losse and ruine of those thinges, vpon the whiche you haue laied your violent and griedie handes: if the ver­tue of your brethren doe not verie much passe the vertue of our men: shal it not appeare to the worlde, that you wise men haue taken a great deale of paines in defacing of those thinges, which you haue ouerthrowen, to no pourpose or profite? Shall it not be seene, that those thinges were not the lettes or staies vnto you, for the which [Page 219] coulde not exercise iustice and god­lines?

What if your Disciples are not on­ly neuer the better by defacing those thinges, but rather much more disode­red and outragious, muche more wic­ked and vicious? What, if licentious li­uing be now lesse punished, if mischie­uous hardines be now greater, if more debate and greater broyles haue bene stirred vp, sence you haue set your sel­ues to be teachers of men? What, if moe robberies and shamefuller actes are now cōmitted emongest you in e­uery parte of the realme (if it be true, that is reported)? What, if there be wrought more traiterous practises a­gainst the maiestie of Princes, euen by such as haue geauen them selues fully and wholly to your doctrine?

But I wil let your maisters goe, and will vrge you, M. Haddō, once againe? What can you alleage? What exam­ple can you bringe of that auncient [Page] vertue? How can you mainteine and defend this newfanglednes? And yet you will auowch, that your Churche differeth nothing at al from the order and discipline of the Apostles. You saie manie things in deede: but no mā, which is in his right wit, will euer be­leeue you. It is not ynough to a [...]firme, what so euer you list, in wordes. I loke for the examples of this heauenly ver­tue, and not for vaine woordes. If you see vnlawful lust set at libertie, disor­der flinging vppe and downe without checke, the highe waies beset with theeues and murderers, tumultes stir­red vp, cōspiracies wrought, and daun­gerous practises deuised against com­mon weales euerie where: if all these mischiefes be not only not taken away after the time that the doctrin of these felowes, whom you so highly com­mend, tooke place, but rather muche more increased: with what face dare you saie, that this your newe doctrine [Page 218] differreth nothing from the doctrine of the Apostles?

You saie, that I require a perfection which can not be had in this life. It is like ynough sir, that I doe speake of light offences, such as continent and honest men may fal into euery houre, and not of most vile, filthie, and infa­mous crimes, such as haue cawsed all holie things to be wasted, spoiled, and cōsumed with fyer, without any fruict of godlines and Religion, the whiche thinges these felowes promised to restore.

You require of me, that our church as you cal it, and yours maie be set to­gether and compared, that it maie ap­peare at the length, whether of them both is more established by the autho­ritie and doctrine of the Apostles. Your request is not reasonable. For I saie not, that there is no spot of vn­cleanes at all emongest vs. But I saie and affirme, that it is verie ill done of [Page] you, that those spottes are not taken awaie emongest you by the diligence of your Apostles. We haue pro­mised nothing, we haue not pleadged our faith and truth, that all thinges should be brought againe to the olde perfection by our diligence: no man can call vs into the court, and charge vs, that we haue not stoode to our promise. But these men, who, as you saie, were sent from heauen, haue takē this much vpon them: to restore the puritie of the Gospell, to bring againe charitie, holines, cōtinencie, with that most earnest longyng after the euerla­sting glorie, to bring al other such ver­tues, as ar cōteined in the word ofgod, to light, which were before buried in darkenes, and to set vp once againe a heauenly cōmon weale vpō the earth.

But that you maie see, what courte­sie and fauour I wil shew you in this conflicte, I will not require of you to examine and trie your manners by [Page 221] the streight discipline of the Apostles, and by that exacte rule of most holie and perfect religion: but to compare the state of this your Church with the grauitie, vertue, religion, and worship­ful behauiour of your auncetours: the which thing if I can intreat you to do, you shall vnderstand that there is so great oddes betwene your gospellishe doctrine, and the honorable religion of olde England, as can not be expressed in wordes. Why then sir, what a thing is this? If you were neuer able, af­ter the tyme that you gaue your sel­ues to these newe and vngodly opi­nions, to reach to any part of the ho­nour of your auncetours: by what meanes, I praye you, shall you be able to atteyne to that auncient per­fection of the Churche, whiche flou­rished in the Apostles dayes to the great wonder of the world? Are you so voide of all witte and reason, that you thinke it ynough to say, that your [Page] Churche differreth nothing from the Apostles doctrine, as though mē were bound by and by to beleeue you? No sir, that must be shewed and prooued, not by braggyng and light behauiour, not by boasting and reprochfull wor­des, but by wonderful examples of iu­stice, innocencie, chastitie, cleanes, religion, and charitie, by a most holy life, a most vertuouse conuersation, and a most feruent loue of godlinesse. Yea, M. Haddon, I tell you once a­gaine, that it is not sufficient for them, that haue promised to bring the loose manners of our tyme to that most flo­rishing state of the primitiue Church, to be meanly vertuous: they must ex­cell, they must be wonderfull. The whiche thing bicause they do it not, but rather, whersoeuer they put their foote, they leaue the grownde em­brewed with muche naughtinesse and vice: it is very euident and plaine, that they could not perfourme so much, as [Page] they had promised. For they haue brought into the common weale, for the cleannes of the Gospell, fowle vi­ces: for peace and loue, debate: for modestie, pride: for religion, wicked­nes: for liberty, bondage: for good or­dre, licentious liuing: for pleasaunt calmenes, a most crewel storme. And yet you like a godly man lay before me the iudgement of God, to make me a­fraied: in the whiche you say, that I poore wretch (for so it pleaseth you to terme me) shal yeald an accōpt of this so heinouse and wicked offence before the iudgement seat of Christ, bicause I haue presumed to rebuke those holie, continent and religious persons.

In deede there is good cause, why I should feare. For M. Haddon a wise man, and such a one as hath familiar cōference with God at al tymes, wold neuer haue said it, vnlesse it had bē de­clared vnto him before, by some hea­uenly reuelation. Reason would ther­fore, [Page] that I should tremble and quake for feare of that iudgement, the which you your selfe feare neuer a deale, and yet you threaten me very seuerely withal.

You say, that I doe not only laugh at your Gospell, and deface your Do­ctours, (whiche are very heauenlie menne) but also violently wrest Hie­remie. The which thing how false it is, I wil declare hereafter.

You say afterwarde, that all that testimonie of Hieremie concerning false Prophetes perteyneth vnto vs. Howe so sir? Hearde you euer say, that there was any newe Prophete e­mongest vs, that went about to tourne vs away from the auncient Religion? That warranted vs of peace and ioy­litie, as though he had had commission from Christe so to doe? That taught the people, that synne should escape vnpunished? You retourne once a­gayne to speake your pleasure by the [Page 223] holy Church, the ordre wherof I haue alreadie declared: in the whiche al­though there be some diseases, yet they are suche as may be cured. For we refuse not the medicine, the which without the Church can not be found els where.

After that you commend your own Church highly. The publike fermons, say you, you commit to certaine seely friers: and they declaime after their owne fas­shion, in other matters they are dome. As touching preaching, I haue said al­ready, that this charge is in no wise to be neglected of the Bishoppes: nei­ther doth the holy Churche beare with such negligence: but rather ex­horteth and chargeth al Bishops most streightly, to folow the office of prea­ching and teaching with all diligence. And it is no reason, that the negligēce of a fewe men should be imputed to the whole Church, the which is so ca­reful to take good and wholesome or­dre [Page] with euery particular man, that he should doe his dewtie. Moreouer, there are, as I sayd before, many Bis­shops emongest vs, the which preach oftentymes, and stirre vppe their sub­iectes to the loue of godlines. But ad­mitte it were alwaies so, that the ser­mons were made by Monkes: doubt­lesse it is more tolerable, that godly and religious persones should be appoin­ted by the Bishops to doe that office, then that base fellowes, and suche as are poisoned with most pestilent and erroneous doctrine, should be made rulers ouer Churches.

Whereas you say, that at our ser­mons the audiēce is brought a sleepe, I graūt it must needes happen so some­times, when he, that preacheth, can not be so eloquent and fine, as you are. What then? Bicause some man nap­peth a litle sometime, therefore shall not the rest awake them selues, and geaue diligent eare to the sermon? [Page] shall no preacher be able to moue and exhort his hearers to serue God with greater loue and feruency?

In the ministring of Sacramentes, say you, the Priestes only are doers, the rest are but lookers on. Of lyke you are not pleased with that. You haue no liking in modest and seemely ordre. You would peraduenture, that there should be made a disordre and confu­sion of offices, and that al men should take vppon them the office of priest­hood. But we thinke, that that come­ly ordre was ordeyned by God, that Priestes only should minister the Sa­craments, and that the rest should take the profit of them with silence, and not medle them selues with the diuine seruice.

As concerning the vnknowen ton­gue, in the which the seruice is saide, I [...]ue spokē sufficiently already: wher­fore, bicause I wil not repete one thing often tymes, I referre you to those [Page] thinges, that are said before.

Let vs now enter, say you, into the masses, in the which you would haue the very marow of religion to be powred out. That is very true. For they conteine in them a most seruent lifting vppe of the heart vnto God, moste holy and deuout prayers, the monumentes and remembraunces of Christe, whiche represent vnto vs his life, his passion, his death, and merites, the ordre and woorking of our saluation, and the appeasing of the displeasure of God. And (that I may say nothing elles) in them is offered vppe the moste holie bodie of Christ, the selfe same Sacri­fice, that taketh away the vncleane spottes of synnes, that yealdeth vppe thankes to our most mighty Lord and bountiful parent, that enkendleth god­ly mindes, and inflameth deuout hearts with the loue of euerlasting life and glorie.

You say moreouer, that no mā enter­medleth [Page 225] with the Gospell emongest vs. You say wel in that. For we can not abide, that euery man should be a Reader, euery man a Doctour, euerie man a Prophet. But we thinke it ex­pedient to prouide, that al thinges may be done honestly and orderly.

Where you saie, that all exhortati­ons out of the Gospell are whisshed omongest vs: that is false. For we haue continuall preaching, and there is ex­pounded, what so euer cōcerneth sal­ualtion, (not vnlearnedly, nor yet vn­sauerly, as you imagine:) and the hea­rers keepe silence after a very modest and comely sorte.

You come, saie you, to the Lordes Table once per aduenture euery yeare, and that more for a solemne ceremonie, then for a contrite heart. This gesse of yours is very vaine also. Truthe it is, that al men are bownde by lawe and order to come vnto our Lordes Table once in the yeare: but such as doe it but once [Page] in the yere, are not wont to be cōmen­ded. And emongest vs there are of such as feaste them selues at this hea­uenlie banket very often, an exceding great number. Whereas you say, that it is done for a solemne ceremonie on­lie, and not for a contrite heart, you doe but gesse as your manner it. And for so muche as your gesse prooueth false, it seemeth, that you may woor­thilie be numbred emongest the false Prophetes. When you saie, that in this supper the supper of our Lorde is not remembred of vs, you speake with out the booke, euen as you didde be­fore. Howe be it, as touching the Supper of our Lorde, I can not wel tell, what to saie to you. For as yet I am not perfectlie infourmed, whe­ther you folowe the wicked opini­on of your Martyr, or no. If you doe folowe him, with what reuerence or trembling can you come to the Sacra­ment of the Aulter, seeing that you be­leue, [Page 226] that there is none other thing in it, but onely a naked and bare remem­brance of the death, which Christ suf­fred vppon the Crosse for vs? If you folow him not, wherefore do you not abhorre and detest the naughtie and wicked felowe?

You find fault with vs also, bicause we haue no publike or open confes­sion of our synnes emongest vs. I woulde faine learne of you, how that synne, which is committed secretely, is to be confessed in the face of the worlde.

I haue, saie you, declared your vsage. You blamed me, bicause being vnac­quainted with the affaires of England, I declared suche thinges, as are no­toriouselie knowen and caried by let­ters, by talke, by moste constante reporte of all menne, into all Coun­treis and Coastes, euen to the further­most partes of the world, to the great griefe of all such as heare them: and [Page] yet you speake rashly of our matters, whiche you haue neither seene, nor vnderstoode, (and therefore you vse this word, peraduenture) and as though you knew very exactly, al those thin­ges, which you haue spoken, you saie boldlie, that you haue declared oure vsage, and that very plainely.

After that you tourne againe to the commendation of your Church. You speake much of your continuall prea­ching, of the despising of mans traditi­ons, of your Psalmes, and Hymnes, and Lawdes, with the which you honour the Lord. Anon after you saie thus. Then foloweth the holy table of the Lord, which is occupied euery holie daie. The minister of God calleth vp all such as haue prepared them selues to that so heauenly a banket. Do you call that a heauenlie bāket, the which your Martyr, whom you set out with heauēly praises, went about to bereafe of al heauenlinesse? Furthermore you tel vs not, how sober [Page 227] they are, when they come to this sup­per, how wel they are clad with their mariage garment, with what examina­tion with what feruencie and wakeful diligence they prepare them selues vn­to it. And of your Minister you saie neuer a worde, by what meanes, with what ceremouie, after what ordre of Religion, by whome he came to that dignitie.

You talke muche of the puritie of your sermons, whereas in deede there can not possibly be any puritie in such a corrupt and pestilent doctrine.

Last of al you declare not, what [...]ite this your religion bringeth. For you shew vs not your wonderful cha­ [...]itie, your puritie and holines of life, your meruelous woorkes of godlines and charitie. And yet you saie thus.

I might in this place make an opposition [...] cōparison, lest I lacked wordes, where­with I might, if I would, trimme it and [...]t it out. I would be glad to see you [Page] doe it, M. Haddon. Howe greate a praise had that bene vnto you, if you had laied together diuers examples of hothe sydes, and shewed, howe this churche whiche you set foorth so so­lemly, is most like vnto that auncient and primitiue Church, which was de­dicated by the bloud of Christ, and in­structed in the doctrine of th' Apostles, in vpright and heauenly conuersation, in innocentie, vertue, constancie low­linesse, pacience, chastitie, in modest and seemelie behauiour. If you had don this, you had dispatched the whol matter. Wherfore did you not braue­lie set out that opposition or compari­son, which you speak of? Wherfore did you not set out to the world the wor­thie actes and holie woorkes of your maisters? Wherfore did you not cler [...] that point, in the which consisted the very groūd and pith of the whol mat­ter? I assure you, you had had the daie of vs, if you had declared, how much [Page 228] these newe Prophettes dooe passe in heauenlie vertues, and had shewed withall that there is no difference be­tweene them and the olde Disciples of Christ. What, could a man of such a wonderfull witte and singular elo­quence, as you are of, lacke wordes, in the defence of so true and so honest a cause as this is?

But that conclusion of yours liketh me meruelously wel. You saie thus. A man may see more sorowing and sigh­inge in one holye Supper of the Lorde, which our men doe resorte vnto, then in sixe hundred of your solemne Masses. First of al if you thinke, that al Sacra­mentes are to be ministred with teares and sighes, you are fowly ouerseene. For there is a time of sorow, and a time of gladnes, as Salomon saith. Then it cometh to passe oftētimes that we may think of heauēly things more earnestly ād more attētiueli without sorow then with sorow. Last of all I would faine [Page] learne of you, what these your sighes doe meane. Doe thei signifie a desire and longing after the olde Religion a­gaine? Or els serue they for a cloke to couer your new disguised Religion? Or els is there no suche matter at all? For Erasmus and certaine other lear­ned men, haue geuen this marke vnto your Religion, that none of you al wil once sigh, no not vppon such daies as are to be kept with teares and sorow. And Luther him selfe, the foreman of all this rable, he neuer wept nor soro­wed, at the remembrance of the bitter paines and tormentes, whiche Christ suffered for vs vppon the Crosse. For he was a man fortified with incredible hardnes, and a deadly enemie to wee­ping and teares.

As for the diuerse expositions of our Doctors, which you speake of, thei are altogether impertinent to our matter. For there is no disagreeing omongest vs in suche matters as concerne the [Page 229] grownde of our faith and Religion. But to what end tend al these thinges, M. Waulter, to what purpose do you bring them? Be it, that these your so­lemnities be kept of you with so great pompe and ceremony, as you wil your selues: yet can I not see hitherto, that you haue by these your solemne sacra­mentes newly deuised by the goodlie witte of you and your companions, by this Religion set vp with such diligēce and prouident carefulnes, by these dai­lie sermons, by this sighing and soro­wing, brought the Churche to suche a state, as your Maisters promised you to doe. Wherefore you must pardon me, if I require one thing of you many times, if I be to importunate in asking it. Restore, I saie once againe, restore vnto vs the puritie of the Gospell, lai [...] abroad those goodly wares of heauen­ly vertues, set out to the world the no­table lessons of this worthy Religion, that, when we see by your wonderful [Page] workes and honourable dedes, that the mightie power of the holy Ghoste is within you, we may be astonished se­ing your miracles, and confesse, that those Prophetes, whiche taught you, were sent from God.

Marke diligently, I pray you, what our Lorde hath saied as concerning a Deut. 18. d.false Prophete. The Prophete, saith God, the whiche being seduced with pride, shall presume to speake in my name, the thinge which I commaun­ded him not to speake, or elles shall speake in the name of other Goddes, shall be put to death. If so be, that thou shalt thinke in thy hearte, howe may I vnderstande the woorde which A mark to discerne a false Pro­phete by.our Lorde hath spoken? Thou shalt [...] haue this token. The thing, which that Prophet foretolde in the name of our Lorde, if it come not so to passe, our Lord spake it not: but the Prophet de­uised it of a pride of his own heart, and therfore thou shalt not feare him.

[Page 230] What thinge can be more euident and plaine, then this signe? What more prouidently spoken for our saluation? Being now warned and instructed by God, I geue no eare to wordes, but I tourne mine eye to workes: I loke to see, howe faithfully these Ptophetes haue fulfilled their promise. It remai­neth therefore, that wee consider, what Luther, Melanchthon, Bucere, Caluine and the rest of your Champi­ons haue promised and taken vppon them, what hope they haue brought their adherentes into by their goodlie wordes. Doubtlesse thei caused men to conceiue this hope, that thei would bringe the doctrine of the Gospell to the olde perfection, that they woulde set Religion vp againe, as it was at the first, that they woulde stai [...] vppe the Church, which tended to decaie.

Now this puritie of the Gospel, this holinesse of Religion, this sure staie of the Churche, by what power and [Page] strength is it mainteined? By fayth, gentlenes, chastitie, peace, concord, lowlinesse, obedience, charitie, god­lines, and the great loue of God. But they haue brought into the world, for faith and religion, Church robbing: for gentlenes, crueltie: for chastity, loose liuing: for peace, whourlibourlie: for concord, ciuile discord: for lowlines, pride: for obedience, contempte of lawfull autho [...]itie: for charitie, bitter hatred towardes all good menne: for godlines, wicked impietie: for godlie loue, the vtter decaie of all such holie thinges as stirred vs vp to the loue of God. They are therefore so muche shorte of the perfourmaunce of those thinges, which they haue in large and ample manner promised, that they haue rather by their laboure and dili­gence so woorshipfullye employed, lefte all thinges, whiche they tooke vppon them to refourme and bringe to the olde perfection, in much worse [Page 231] case, yea muche more depraued and disordered, then euer they were be­fore. Wherefore these men were not sente from God. And so it is conclu­ded by the Lawe of God him selfe, that they deserue no such commenda­tions, as you geaue them, but rather e­uerlasting damnation.

I demaunde of you once againe.

The vertue and puritie of the Gospell, doth it consist in good woorkes thinke you, or elles in woordes? Doubtlesse if we beleeue our Lorde him selfe, we must saie, that it standeth rather in woorkes, then in a goodlie shewe of woordes. For so muche therefore as these your Maisters haue confirmed this new Gospel, not by good workes, not by woorking of miracles, not by continencie of lyfe, not by vprighte cōuersation, not by feruencie of mind, not by burninge desire, and longinge after heauenlie things, but by boasting and bragging woordes: is it not mani­fest, [Page] that they are not partakers of the kingdome of heauen? Is it not cleere, that they were not sent from God? Is it not verie euident, that they were false Prophetes?

But let vs retourne vnto Ieremie. And first of all, where you saie, that I would, for a certaine pride, which is in me intolerable, be esteemed as one of Gods priuie counsel, I would faine learne of you, whereof you gather that. Heard you euer saie, that I prea­ched anie newe Gospell? that I pro­fessed anie newe doctrine, the which in the olde time was neuer heard of? that I withdrew the people from the olde faith and auncient order with goodlie promises? that I mainteined anie opinion deuised by myne owne selfe so constantly, as though it had proceeded from God him selfe? No truly. What reason moueth you then to saie, that I take this so great a name vpon me, whereas in deede you see no [Page 232] token of such intolerable pride in me? You saie afterward.

You molest Ieremie againe, and will not suffer the reuerende Prophete to take his breath. If I haue molested the holie Prophete, I haue commit­ted no small offence against my selfe. But let vs see, how you will prooue it. You procede thus. You alleage these woordes of the Prophete. If they had stoode in my cownsell, and had open­ly declared my woordes vnto the peo­ple, truly they had tourned them from their euyll waie, and from their naugh­tie deuises. The wordes of the Pro­phete are verie cleere. I can not tell therfore how you goe about by your woordes to make them darke. It fo­loweth.

Let vs take our beginning out of Ie­remie, whiche was a worthie Prophete. You can saie none other. If you could M. Haddon, I doubt you would doe it. You goe forewarde.

[Page] Did he fraie al the Iewes from vice? Did he bend them al to vertue? Marke wel the whole ordre and processe of his pro­phecie, considre the watling that he ma­keth, which is in deede very lamentable. Hitherto you reason, not against me, but against the most godlie Prophete, to prooue him a vaine man: for you make him to speake contrarieties. He had saied before, that the word of God was of such force, that it brought men from vice to vertue. He lamenteth af­terward, that, although he were stir­red vp by the might and power of the word of God, yet he could not possi­bly bring the people from their wic­kednes. Wherefore he speaketh con­trarieties, and disagreeth exceedingly with him selfe. As you did therefore in S. Paule, euen so doe you now. You improue not my saying, but you make the man of God to speake contrarie to him selfe. But I saie on the other side: that it may most easily be prooued by [Page 233] this reason onely, that you could not vnderstand the meaning of the Pro­phete, bicause you thinke, that he dis­senteth from him selfe. For it is not pos­sible, that there should be any disa­greement in the worde of God, of the which Ieremie was a minister. And yet you, to impugne more openly the meaning of the Prophete, you earnest­ly alleage the example of S. Peter, yea and of Christe him selfe, by whose preaching, say you, not al suche, as heard them, were fraied from their synne, vice, and wickednes.

And at the length you goe so farre, that you affirme, that whereas one man yealdeth to the warning of God, an other doth not, it is not in the free wil of euerie man, but that it was so ordeined before the beginning of the worlde: and so you confirme againe that fatal violence or necessitie. And whereas you heare the complaint of our Lord him selfe, whiche is very la­mentable, [Page] wherein he bewaileth the infidelitie of the Iewes, which would not be receiued vnder his winges, be­ing thereunto very mercifully moued: yet do you impute their damnation, not to the wickednes of the naughtie men, but vnto God as the author ther­of. The which impiety of yours is al­ready sufficiently confuted, (so much as the place required.) But neither you neither your maisters doe vnderstand the Prophets: and therefore they ima­gine, that the Prophets should speake contrarieties.

Thinke you, that God by Ieremie gaue that token to discerne a true Pro­phete from a false: that al such, as were present at the sermons of a true Pro­phete, should foorthwith be with­drawen from wickednesse, the which thing the false Prophetes could not doe? If you imagine, that the Pro­phete spake so, you are much decei­ued. For our Lord him selfe, by whose [Page 234] spirite all the holy Prophets were en­kendled and stirred foreward, spea­king vnto those men, that were obsti­nately bent in synne, that shutte their eyes, and stopped their eares will­fully, that the light of heauen might not shine vppon them, or the Worde of God moue their heartes, made them not to forsake their wickednesse. And therefore he complayneth of the Capharnaites, and suche other as withstoode his Doctrine verie obsti­nately.

What is that then, that Hieremie said? Dowbtles this. That such as be­leeued the Prophetes, suche as hadde them in good estimation, suche as tooke their sayinges to be the verie answeres of God, (if those Prophetes were sent from God) there is no doubt, but that they were easily brought from vnbeleefe to faith, and from vice to an honest ordre of life. The whiche thing when it folowed not, [Page] it was a moste sure argument, that they were not sent from God. For example.

Phasur the Priest was in high repu­tation. Ier. 20. a.He bent him selfe earnestly a­gainst Hieremie. Hananias desired to be called and esteemed as a Prophete. He was in lyke manner an enemie to Hieremie. Hieremie in those daies threatned the people, that ther hāged a great plague ouer them: but the other signified vnto the people with manie circumstances of words, that al should be wel. Many men folowed them, but very fewe folowed Hieremie. Nowe sir, when there was such a great dissen­sion betwene these twoo factions, by what token might a man discerne, whether of them was sent from God? By the vertues and vices of suche as folowed either part. Therfore if it had ben diligētly marked at that time, that such as folowed Phasur and Ananias, or other the lyke falfe and deceitfull [Page 235] Prophetes, prooued neuer the better, but rather walowed stil most filthily in the selfe same vice, as they did be­fore: might it not haue ben easily per­ceiued, that those Prophetes, vnto whom they had addicted them selues, were not sent from God? And con­trarie wise if it had ben noted, that those fewe which folowed Ieremie, which resorted vnto him, which gaue diligent eare vnto his doctrine, did for­sake sinne, embrace godlines, and feare the iudgementes of God: they might haue iudged very well, that he was sent from God, and that the thinge which he spake came not from him selfe, but that he vttered suche thin­ges onelye, as he hadde learned of God.

Wheras therfore ther were at that [...]yme many men, whieh tooke vppon them the name of Prophetes, and said: thus saith our Lorde: when in deede they had neuer heard the voice of our [Page] Lord: and clawed the common people and brought them in hope of a merie worlde, and said peace, peace, whē no peace, that is to say, no great quietnes, and abundaunce of thinges, but an ex­treme calamitie hanged ouer the state of the Iewes, and the common people, whose eyes were wholly bent vppon them, who esteemed them as menne of God, were nothing the better for them, but continued still in as muche wickednes, as they did before: doubt­lesse it was euident, that those menne were false Prophets and craftie crow­ders, and that they did poison suche, as they tooke vpō them to instruct, with pestilent errours.

The lyke might be said of the tyme of Christe and his Apostles. There were Priestes, and Pharisees, and Sa­ducees, and Herodians, all contrarie to the Doctrine of Christe. Suche, as folowed Christe, and applied them selues with al diligence to learne his [Page 236] doctrine, withstood synne, and were inflamed with the desire of godlinesse and vertue: but suche as folowed the Priestes of that time, and the Pharisees, were disteined with many foule vices. By this token therfore it might be per­ceiued, that Christ wrought by the ho­ly ghost, and spake the worde of God: and that the Priestes and Pharisees tooke a pride vpon their owne con­ceite which proceded of an vnsetled and vndiscrete mind.

We may say the like of the Apostles, who had much a do with false Priestes and Philosophers, whiche were fro­wardly bent against the truth. For such as herkened vnto the Apostles, were beautifully fournished with the orna­mēts of true vertue: but such as went vnto the contrary part, were clogged with most hei [...]ouses vices. Any man therefore, that was in his right wittes, might well perceiue by the restimo­nie of Hieremie, that the Apostles [Page] were sent from God: and that their ad­uersaries were moued and stirred for­ward by the enemie the diuel.

That this is the meaning of the Pro­phete, al men, which are not obstinat­ly set in their owne mad and frantike opinion, may see very plainely. For o­therwise the wisedom of God, which spake in the holy Prophete, should speake against it selfe: the which thing if a man should but once conceiue it in his heart, it were a most [...] wicked synne, and horrible offence. Wee may nowe applie it vnto these newe Prophetes.

There was a certayne woorshipfull Prophete, whom you thinke vndowb­tedly to haue ben sent from heauen. Many men went after him, and com­mended him highly, and garded him both with their bodies and armes, and fournished him with their gooddes. I will therefore demaund not of al, but of such onely, as did not onely loue [Page 237] Luther as a bowntifull and helping man, but also esteemed and reueren­ced him as a Prophet sent from heauē, and receiued his doctrine most wil­lingly both with eares and heartes: whether they were foorthwith chaū ­ged in hert, and whether they became any thing the better for it. No, they were rather made by the hearīg of him much more presumpteous and proud, much more incontin [...]nt and seditious, much more dispiteful and outragious, yea so farre foorth, that Luther him self, which had schooled them, was not able to kepe them in order. That ther­fore might haue ben a full proofe, that Luther stoode neuer in the counsell of God. For if he had stoode in the coun­sell of our Lord, and had declared the verie wordes of God vnto such as fo­lowed him and were named after him, dowbtles there should haue ben seene some wonderfull alteration of life in them.

[Page] The like maie be saied of Melanch­thon, Zwinglius, Bucer, and Caluine, and other the like Prophets. For these men were none such, as might by good example of their cōtinent and honest conuersation asswage the heate of in­cōtinency in those that folowed them: but rather out of their schooles proce­ded verie often vicious and incōtinent men: yea and not only incōtinent, but also violēt churchrobbers, destroiers of good lawes, wily practisers of treason against princes, felowes mischieuously bent to deface al places of holines and deuotion by manslaughter, bloudshead and fier. Wherfore the teachers of this doctrine were not sent from God: for if they had ben sent from God, doubtles they had tourned those men, that honoured them as goddes, from their wicked life.

Moreouer, for so much as there is no disagreement in the spirite of God, if they had ben sent from God, there [Page 238] must needes haue ben a most perfecte cōsent and agreement emōgest them. But the world knoweth, that there is a most bitter dissension emongest them: wherfore it foloweth necessarily, that they were not moued by the instincte and inspiration of the holie ghost, but driuen with burning fyer brandes of the findes of hell, and that they ap­plied them selues, not to instruct men, but to ouerthrow them.

You saie, that there is a meruelous goodlie agreement emongest you. I speake not of you as nowe. For it maie be, that you maie by feare of pounishmente staie for a lytle time the furie of raging felowes, (the whiche remedie, when the minde is not well settled, can not endure longe.) But of others, see you not, howe great dissension there is emon­gest them, that sprange of Luther? See you not, howe they fall out a­bout woordes? How they alter and [Page] chaunge their opinions? Howe con­fusely, doubtfully, and intricately they speake? With what fond reasons they labour in vaine to prooue that thing, which they are bent to mainteine: in so muche that they can neither agree with other men, neither yet within them selues? They choppe and chaūge their Creedes, they affirme now one thing and now an other, they are esta­blished in no one opinion. They can neuer agree within them selues, to whome they maie referre the deter­mination of dowbtes.

You referre the matter to your par­lament (as you terme it): or els to your babling Bucerans, as the Bishoppe of Angra not vnsittely termeth them. Diuers men referre the decision of questions in religion to diuers Confes­sions of the faith, which are wont now and then to be altered and chaunged. Thinke you, M▪ Haddon, if, as I doe now reason with you in writing, so I [Page 239] mighte be presente wyth you, and presse you with wordes, and wind you to and fro by the force of argumentes, that you were able to stande to your tackelinges? No without dowbt. But you woulde deuise a hundred diuers shiftes of descant to face out the mat­ter, and seeke out all the starting holes and blind corners in the world: in such sort, that it might easily appeare, that neither your tongue, neither yet your wit were in perfecte good plight. Howbeit one poore shifte you would finde, (which is a singular good helpe to you in all your distresses) that is, to brawle, chide, schold and reuile. You saie afterward.

That you maie acknowledge the autho­ritie of this Churche, if you dowbt of it, I referre you to the Apologie. I know you haue writen an Apologie, wherwith you labour to set out your Churche meruelously. If you haue written it more wittyly and finely, then this [Page] booke, which you set out against me, surely you haue done me great wrōg. For you made light of me, and there­fore did not vouchesafe to put out the vttermost strength of your eloquence, when you encountered with me. If you vse the like stile and the like argu­mentes, that is to saie, if you contend with the like arrogancie and reproch­ful language: I haue not so much time to spare, that I wil desire to take it once in my handes. For you define nothing, you speake▪nothing sincerelie, you conclude nothing by good argument. You saie at the length.

Confute it if you can. But you can not. That was verie arrogantly spo­ken. Who hath made you so loftie and high sprited? Your eloquence? Or elles the loue of the truthe? If you truste to your eloquence, you are a very babe. If you beare your selfe vppon the truth, you imagine manie [Page 240] thinges to be true, that are not.

You saie, that one hath barked a­gainste your Apologie. I haue not reade it, and yet I knowe, that your Apologie, whiche, you saie, can not possiblie be confuted, is alreadie ex­cellentlie well confuted, by a manne of muche grauitie, godlines, and lear­ninge. which thing you denie.

But this lesson haue you learned of your maisters: who beinge openlye conuinced, fall a crying, being sette a gogge, kepe a raging stirre: and when they are able to saie nothing to the grownde of the matter, they heape together manie woordes without or­der and besides the pourpose, and yet they vaunte them selues emongest their adherentes beyond all measure and modestie. But I regard not your brauerie and Iustines, I esteeme not your haughtie and prowde vauntes: I weye the truthe, reason and argu­mentes. And suche is the noblenes of [Page] this your Ilād, the glorie and renoum [...] of your kingdome so bright, that nei­ther can anie vice lie hidden in it, nei­ther yet anie vertue vnknowen.

Wherfore you labour but in vaine to conceale that thing, whiche is euerie where cōstantly reported. What you say touching the immortality of soules, I wote not. I neuer saied, that your maisters denied the immortalitie of sowles. Howbeit I am not ignorant, by what degrees or steppes men are wont to clymme vp vnto the highest point of that most detestable opinion.

Whereas you saie, that there hath ben manie men emongest you, which haue confirmed the truth of the gospel by banishment, nakednes, hungre, yea by sheading their bloud and yealding their liues: I graunt it. For so did the Bishop of Rochester, so did Moore, so did the holy Carthusians (to passe ouer a numbre of others) these men died a most honourable death for the glorie [Page 241] of Christ. So doe your holy Bishops, whō you haue defeated of their goods depriued of their dignities, and cast in­to prisons. So do we see many others, Bishops, Priests and Monks, very god­lie and Religiouse persons, driuen out of England and Ireland, liuing like ba­nished men and outcastes: the which, if they had not ben able to escape out of your clammes, had peraduenture ben put to a most orewel death, by the ministers of this your Gospel.

If you meane any other of your men, heare what S. Cyprian saith: that, such as being without the bowndes of the Church, doe suffer death for the glory of Christe, they doe not receiue the Croune of Martyrdome, but beare the punishment for their vnbeleefe. If thei therefore, that breake vp the inclo­sure of the Church, and seperate them selues from it, although they yeld their bloude and liues for the Religion of Christ, which the Church holdeth, are [Page] not to be accounted as Martyrs, but as naughty packes and Church robbers: what is to be thought of such, as being without the Church, are not ashamed to spil their bloud and liues in the main tenance of rebellion and vngodlines?

I am nowe come to that place, whiche is by you, (who are a man na­turally abhorring the sleightie occu­pation of flatterie and lying) verie clerkely handled. Your woordes are these.

You confesse that you haue gone further in the matter, then you had thought to doe. Truth it is, that you haue gon a great deale further, then it became you to doe: especiallie in the most learned and pru­dēt eares of the Quenes Maiestie, whose sharpe witte and iudgement you woulde haue ben afraid of, if you had wel weigh­ed with your selfe, how much pitthinesse there is in her. O right excellent Syr Waulter, you appeare nowe in your owne likenes. Tel me, I pray you, doe [Page 242] you not see, that excessiue praysing [...] doth not aduaunce the dignity of Prin­ces, but rather vtterlie peruerte their minde and iudgement oftentimes? Do you not know, that the most fine and sharp wit, loueth truth, and abhorreth excedingly all lying and flatterie? For what other thing is it to praise Princes excessiuely, but to set them out to the world as mocking stocks? Truly if your Quene be so witty, as I may wel think shee is, not by your talke, but by the reporte of other men, she will tourne you out of her courte and companie as an open and detected flatterer, and wil not suffer her selfe to be most im­pudently mocked of you.

If you set out her wit, if you com­mende her knowledge in the Latine [...]nd Greeke tongue, if you praise her courtlie grace and comlines of speach, i [...] is well donne. But when you make her no meane Diuine, when you aduaunce her witte so muche, [Page] as though I ought to be terriblie afraid of it, you assault her Maiestie by verie wilie and craftie meanes. Is this your loialtie? Is this the part of a kind hert, mindefull of the benefites bestowed vppon you? Is this well done, that a most noble Quene, a Princesse endu­ed with most excellent wit and singu­lar qualities, should be gibed and scor­ned of you, M. Haddon, who haue, as you saie your selfe, ben fostred and brought vp by her Maiesty? Did you so little esteeme her iudgemente, that you thought her meete to make your laughing stocke? To pull her downe from the setled staye of her minde by your clawing and flatterie? To de­ceiue her for your gaine and lukers sake?

If, when you sette for this bootie, you had made your entrie more co­uertlye, your fowle flatterie needed not to haue benne repelled with so greate inforcemente. For a manne [Page 243] mighte haue thoughte, that you had misdowbted the sharpenesse of the Queenes witte, and therfore hadde deuised to vndermine secretelie, that you might the better haue scaled the forte, whiche you haue desired to take.

But now, wheras you mock so opēly, ascribīg vnto her maiesty, such cōmen dable qualities, as can not possibly stād, neither with her age, neither with her nature, as being a woman, neither with her tender and delicate bodie, neither yet with her estate, (which is other­wise employed to weightie and care­full affaires): is it not manifeste, that you make lighte of her witte? Doe you so recōpence the benefits which you haue receiued of her bowntiful­nesse? If shee be so wise as you make her to be, if shee haue so many excel­lente vertues, as I desire her Maie­stie to be alwayes decked and bewti­fied withall: the moderate praises, [Page] whiche I geaue her, shee wil accepte with good hearte; but that immode­rate flatterie of yours shee will refuse and reiecte: neyther will shee suffer her selfe to be mocked of suche pre­sumptuouse felowes to the greate a­batemente of her estimation and ho­nour.

As towchinge the quietnesse of thinges, whiche you talke of at large, I saie this muche. It is the parte of a madde man, yea of one, that is igno­raunte of the common frailtie of man, to trust to much in prosperitie, and not to cast long time before by causes pas­sed, such aduersities, as peraduentur [...] hange ouer his heade. Moreouer, there canne be no quietnosse, where the faithe of the holie Churche is shut out. For the minde is troubled, yea and oftentimes shaken quite out of the hengies, by the remorse of synne, the which the most presumptuous and bolde felowes in the worlde are not [Page 244] able to suppresse, (although many are able to dissemble it).

As for the comparison of your Church with the Primitiue Churche, which you saie may be confirmed by the Histories, I saie that, either you haue not read the Histories, or els you are past all shame. You shoulde haue brought some example or testimonie out of the Histories, with the whiche you might ouercharge vs. But you can neuer doe it, forsomuch as all the antiquitie maketh against you.

Whereas you saie, that your nobi­litie is verie well agreed, would God it were so: but it is otherwise repor­ted commonlye. I passe ouer manie thinges of purpose, partly bicause they are nothing to the purpose, and partly because they are alreadie confuted be­fore. But wheras you saie these words: Ah be not disquieted gentle Syr: I ac­knowledge your pleasaunt manner of speach. As for your heauenly kindred, [Page] of the whiche you saie, you are verie desirouse: you doe well in it. But I woulde you had some other menne of this stocke and kinred, more skilful in­terpretours of the law of God. Then how wittilie was that spoken of you?

Wherefore saie you, that menne haue benne caried awaie by vs from that most aunciente and holie Religion, whiche was grownded vppon the bloude of Iesus Christe, and hathe continewed alwayes one euen vntill our daies, and that they haue benne trained in an other Religion, which is moste cursed and detestable?

Then you adde, Doe you beleeue these thinges, as you haue spoken them? No trnely doe you not. These thinges were very merrily spoken of you, M. Had­don. Doubtlesse your pleasant gyrdes procede of ameruelous wit: especially when yon thinke your self to be cocke sure. For then, as though your discourse had escaped the rockes, you pleasure very much to sport and dalie.

[Page 245] But whereas you saie, that I doe not beleeue those thinges whiche I haue saied, you are fowly deceiued. For I doe bothe beleeue and confesse them, neither shal the outrage and vn­brideled wilfulnesse of a sort of rascall varlets euer bring me from the cōstant confession of my faith. What argu­mentes of yours thinke you, to be of such force, that thei might cause a mā, which is in his right wittes, not to be­leue that, that is confirmed by the te­stimonie of holie Scriptures, by autho­ritie of the holie Fathers, by the re­cordes of al the antiquitie? You saie, afterward.

For in the olde and beste time of the Church, neither was their any Popedom, neither leaden redemption for synne, neither the marte of Purgatorie, neither woorsshippinge of Images, neither run­ninge vppe and downe to visite Sainctes, neither offering in the Masses for the liue and for the dead, with other like. [Page] These shamefull pointes, whiche dooe disshonest Relligion, at what times they crope in, and by whome they were deui­sed, you are not ignoraunie. But you dissemble it, to serue the eares of your companie.

Belke out M. Haddon, streine your selfe, as muche as you can, ridde your stomake of this surfeicte, of most bar­barouse furie and rage: cast vppe your poison, spewe out your venime: and then shall you openly triumph emon­gest your compagnions with this pee­uish and vaine talke. When you haue said nothing, prooued nothing, allea­ged no true testimonie of the antiqui­quitie: when you haue broughte no­thing elles but railinge for argument, madnesse for reason, impudencie for true exaumples: you keepe such a ra­ginge stirre, as though you hadde al­readi [...] wonne the fielde with greate honour.

But we on the other side are wont [Page 246] to declare, by authoritie of the holie Scriptures, by testimonies of the holy Fathers, by fetching the Monumentes and Recordes of al the Antiquitie, fi­nally by reason, by vse, by experi­ence, by a number of examples, that thys kinde of gouernement hath all­waies bene in the Churche: and that, who so euer goeth about to appaire it, is a breaker of peace, an ouer­thrower of Religion, a woorker of sedition, a puller downe of the Chur­che, whiche is one, and a fettor vp of diuers and sundrie churches, diuersly sundered and diuided within them sel­ues, a bringer in of infinite most filthie vices, and trowblesome errours.

As for the mart of Purgatorie, which you speake of, we answere you, that there is no such thing. If at any time in so many hundred yeares ther hath ben any bying and selling of holie thinges vsed, the holie Churche alloweth it not, but banisheth it out of the bounds [Page] of the Christian common weale, as a most pestilent and pernicious abuse.

Likewise of Images, we say, that al we, that liue in the holy catholik faith, are able to prooue both by reasons, ar­gumentes, and examples, that euen frō the primitiue church, (especially after it might be done for tyrannes) there hath ben Images set vp in churches, to the euerlasting remembraunce of ver­tue, to moue men to godlines and re­ligion, to the glorie and honour of Christe, the whiche is seene in the wonderfull vertue of holie men. We saie moreouer that the errour of those men, that threw downe Images, was condemned by manie authorities of the holy Fathers, by diuers decrees of generall councels: the whiche thing your maisters, be they neuer so shame­les, can not denie, vnlesse they wil first burne al the writinges of holie fathers, al histories and records, all the decrees of general Councels.

[Page 247] What shoulde I here reason of the reuerence and honour, which was of old time geauen vnto sainctes? Could you neuer spare a litle time from the fine woorkes of Accursius, to bestow in the reading of Gregorie Nazian­zene, Basile the Greate, Hierome and Ambrose? If you coulde doe it, you shoulde see it in their bookes, howe many times godlie personnes came to­gether in the olde time, what resortes and assemblies there were made, what eloquent Orations were pronounced in the commendation of Sainctes, how greate multitude of the common peo­ple pressed thither to heare them. But nowe, if I woulde shewe you, with what feruente zeale and deuotion ve­rie many men were wont to continue all night at the Tombes of Martyrs, it were a hard matter to expresse it.

None of al the holy Bishops in those daies, did once put backe the common people from hearing the cōmendation [Page] of Martyrs: no man disswaded them from that moste earnest deuotion to­wardes the Saintes: no, they did rather exhort al such as were present, to visit their Monumentes, to praise and ho­nour them, to obserue and keepe such woorshippe, as was dew vnto them. For they sawe in those assemblies, when the name of Martyrs was sette out with heauenlie prayses, that not the nature of the bodie, but the grace of God, and the almightie power of Christe him selfe was dewlie honou­red in them. For if the Christian menne in those daies kept the signes of the holie Crosse, and the Images of Sainctes, whiche were of deuoti­on sette vppe in Churches, with such reuerence: if they were oftentimes put in minde by those signes to plucke vppe their heartes, and to remember the vertue whiche those domme Ima­ges did represente: was it not muche more conuenient, that the liuely Ima­ges [Page 248] of Christe shoulde be honoured with greater feruencie, and that all suche as serued God truely and hear­tilie, (to doe this honour the better) should visite the Tombes of Martyrs, and Churches builded in the honoure of them? And is it not euidently sene, that the Sainctes are by the operation of the holy Ghost shapen to the likenes of God and that they beare a very true and expresse Image of Christ?

Purgatory proued by Luther. As touching your pastime that you make with Purgatorie (for you must needes haue a snatche at euery thing) can there be broughte any grauer te­stimonie against you, then that, which the manne, that was sent (as you saie) from heauen, hath geuen openlie? Who is that saye you? It is that Luther, whome you honoure and reuerence, whome you make a God, whome you affirme to haue ben borne for youre saluation. Hee sayed more then once or twise, and abidde [Page] by it, that there was a Purgatorie, and that he did not weene, thinke, or be­leue it, but certainely knowe it to be so. For proufe whereof, he constant­lie alleaged that place of S. Mathew, Matt. 12. c.where Christe said, that the synne of suche, as did wilfully resist the testimo­nie of the holie Ghoste, shoulde neuer be forgeauen, neither in this worlde, neither yet in the worlde to come: by the which wordes it is signified, that some hope of forgeuenes is mercifully shewed by God vnto many men euen in the worlde to come.

[...]. Macab. [...]2. g. He alleged also that place out of the Machabees, where Iudas made oblati­ons for the synnes of such as were de­parted. With these and other the like argumēts and allegatiōs he was earnest to proue that there was a Purgatorie.

How then? If Luther saied there was a Purgatorie, and you will war­rant it, that Luther was sent from God: and, if he were sent from God, so long [Page 249] as he was in that embassage, he coulde not lie: it is manifestly prooued by his authoritie, (the whiche you maie not gainsaie) that there is a purgatorie. If there be no purgatorie, Luther lied. If Luther lied, he was not sent from God, but from him, that is the father of lying. Choose therefore whether you like better. For either the autho­ritie of Luther shal cōfirme, that there is a purgatorie, or els the feined tale of purgatorie, (as you terme it) shall con­uince Luther of vanitie and madnes.

But he afterward denied purgato­rie. That is no wonder. For not only he, but all his ofspring saie nowe one thing, and now an other: they correct and alter manie thinges, neither can they staie them selues in anie one de­gree, but rather when they haue once begonne an errour, they heape and in­crease it with a numbre of other er­rours.

But I would faine learne of you M. [Page] Haddon: whether of these two opini­ons, whiche are mainteined both by Luther, think you to be the truer? The later, saie you. Well then the former he receiued not of God. Then was he not as yet sent from God. But after he had disteined him selfe with incestu­ous wedlocke, after he had allured his contrei men to rebellion, after he had defied chastitie and all holines, after he had stirred vp such broile and sedi­tion in the common weale, that he coulde not appeace it him selfe after­ward, when he had railed against the state of the church with most reproch­full and shamefull language, when he had vttered most horrible and diuelish blasphemie, when he had wasted, spoi­led, and burned all holie thinges, when he had committed all these outrages and villanies: then was he thought a meete man to be taken into gods pric­uie counsell, and a persone woorthie, to whome God, besides all other se­cretes, [Page 250] shoulde mercifully reuele that mysterie also of the deuising of purga­torie. Then did this great wise man vnderstand at the length, that S. Augu­stine, which held that we should praie vnto God in our Sacrifices for the dead: that S. Cyprian, which laied this most grieuous punishment vpon such, as appointed Priestes in their testamēt to be tutours or gouernours to their children, that there should no sacrifice be offred vp for them in the churches: that S. Chrysostome, whiche referred this ordinaunce to the tradition of the Apostles: that S. Denise (to passe ouer a numbre of others) which wrote ve­ry diligently of the care, that is to be had for the departed in the faith, and of praiers, that are to be made vnto God for their deliueraunce: Luther, I saie, vnderstood, from heauen that al these men had ben in great errour and folie.

Trulie the capitaine of this your faction had a great commoditie of his [Page] naughtines and folie, if, after the rei­sing of such broiles and troubles in the worlde, he was deliuered by the be­nefite of God from that errour, in the which those holie Fathers, most God­lie and wise men, excellently wel lear­ned in the Scriptures, linked vnto Christe with a most streight band of heauenlie loue were quite drowned.

If no man can thus perswade him selfe, vnlesse he be peeuish, frantike and starke mad, void not only of al godlie religion, but also of common sense: who doth not see that this opinion of Luther is wicked ād detestable, taught and set out by none other, then by the enemie the diuell.

But this, saie you, is not witten in the scripture. What then? The thing, which the Apostles taught by word of mowth, which their schollers deliue­red to the posteritie, whiche hath ben most constantly holden and beleeued from the primitiue Churche till our [Page 251] times, whiche hath ben approued by the beleefe and full agreement of the whole Church for so manie hnndred yeares, shall Luther a seditious mad selowe, after so manie ages garishly auowch it to be a feined matter? Shall men, whiche take vpon them to be both Godlie and religious, folow him as a God of heauen, that attempteth most desperatly to assault heauen? For he maketh warre against heauē, which taketh vp armour against the faith of the Church.

No, no, saie you, you would not thinke, what manner of man he was. For he, I tel you, woulde allowe nothing, vnlesse he fownde it written in the holie scriptu­res. Well sir, I will not nowe handle that matter, whiche is by the holy Fa­thers discussed long a goe: howe the gospell consisteth not only in thinges written, but also in customes and or­dinaunces receiued without any wri­ting, deliuered vnto the Churche by [Page] worde of mowth and order of the A­postles: how much the sure and groū ­ded 1. Tim. 3. c.authoritie of the Church, which is the piller and staie of truth, is to be esteemed: of howe great value and importaunce the agreement of all ho­ly men in one minde without anie varietie ought to be: all these thinges I will nowe omit, and aske you one question, how Luther, when he saied there was a purgatorie, to prooue it, alleaged the testimonies of the holie scripture, if there were no testimonie in the scripture, that proued that there was a purgatorie?

Then againe when he saied, that there was no Purgatorie, by what testimonie of the Scripture thought he, that Purgatorie might be vtterly disprooued? Brought he anie one place, by the whiche he might con­uince that there is no Purgatorie? Dowbtlesse not one. Such therefore was his presumption, that, what so [Page 252] euer came into his head, that woulde he constantly affirme: and againe, the selfe same thing, if it misliked him, would he vtterly denie.

And yet his disciples for sooth find no fault at all, neither with his incon­stancie, neither yet with his lewd fas­shions: but what so euer the drowsie blowbol draueled out ouer his pottes, that toke they vp so griedily, as though it had ben good gospell.

Purgato­rie. But lest you should saie, that it can not be shewed by the testimonie of the scripture, that there is a purgatory, although it be not necessarie, yet, be­sides those places, whiche are wont to be alleaged for the proofe thereof, I thinke it good to bring a fewe: of the whiche that is one of S. Marke: where our Lorde, when he had saied, that hel (into the which al such shalbe throwen downe, as esteeme more their bodilie pleasure, then their dew­tie towardes God) shoulde haue this [Page] propertie, that the worme of them, that shall be tombled down headlong into it, should neuer die, and their fyer neuer be quenched: he brought in Marc. 9▪ gfoorthwith these wordes: for euerie man shalbe seasoned in fyer, and euery sacrifice shalbe seasoned in salt. In this place there are two thinges to be no­ted. One is, that there is a worme, that is to saie, a vexation or torment of cō ­science gnawing and molesting the minde, the whiche shal haue an ende: and that there is a torment of fyer also, the whiche in like manner shall haue and end in some men. For other­wise our Lorde woulde neuer haue Esaie. 66. abrought that place out of Esaie: their worme dieth not, and their fyer is not quenched. By the whiche place we are taught, that there is one torment euerlasting, and an other that lasteth but for a time. For so muche there­fore as this worme and fyer is a tor­ment or vexation of minde, and of [Page 253] tormentes there is one, whiche is ap­pointed by the iudgement of God to last but a time, and the other to con­tinew for euermore: is it not euident­ly prooued, that there is a purgatorie? (for so is the place of punishment cal­led, in the whiche by the sentence of God the sowles are purged within a certaine time of suche spottes of ve­nial offences, as they had gathered in this life.)

An other thing worthy to be noted is this, that no synne shal escape vnpu­nished. For euen as in the old lawe it was not lawful to offre vp any Sacri­fice without salt, so is it not lawful for our soules to approch vnto the throne of Gods maiestie, vnlesse their vnclea­nes be before clensed by salt and fyer, that is to say, by the rigour of Goddes iudgement, and by dewe punishment: that, when al the spottes of vncleane affection be put out and quite consu­med, the faithful sowles may come to [Page] haue such a puritie and cleerenes, that thei may be able to receiue the bright­nes of God in them selues, and be like­ned and confourmed to the glory of God. For although by the mercy of God synne is taken quite away in such as stay them selues vppon a liuelie saith, yet are they for the most parte so bounde with some knot of the law, that they must needes satisfie the iu­stice of God. For almightie God is mercifull, but so [...], that he is not vn­mindfull of his iustice: he is also iust, but in suche sorte, that in the mini­string of his seuere iudgement he sheweth manie pointes of great mer­cie.

Moreouer this puritie or cleannes, which is gotten by the grace and be­nefite of Christ, hath certaine degrees, so, that he that is cleane, may be yet cleaner, and come vnto a cleerer knowledge of the nature of God. And the encrease of this cleannes consi­steth [Page 254] in salt and fyer, that is to say, in such pounishment, as is appointed to pourge the remnantes of synne: that the Sacrifice may be purer and holier and more acceptable to God. Where­fore it is necessarie, that the Sacrifice, whiche is to be offered vppe vnto God with suche rites and orders, as are appointed by Christe our high Priest, be first cleansed, yea and per­fectely well pourged, by laying on some pounishment vppon synne, ei­ther in this lyfe, or elles in the lyfe to come. For euen as God, when he pardoned Dauid, quited him not of all 2. Reg. 12. d.punishment, (for he lost afterward his sonne, and was chased out of his king­dome by the heynouse treason of his sonne Absolon, and his howse was dishonoured in the face of the world) in lyke sorte, although God forgea­ueth synnes, yet, that notwithstan­dinge, hee wyll require some pe­naunce, that there maye be made a [Page] satisfaction or amendes for the offence committed. The which satisfaction re­steth not in the weight or estimation of it selfe, but in the infinite merite of Christ. For otherwise there should be no end of punishment, for so muche as the offence was endles: in so much as the maiestie of God was offended, (which is endles.)

Vnto this penaunce, which is to be abiden of al such, as haue not thorugh­ly pourged the vncleannes of their 1. Pet. 4. dsinnes in this life by dew labours, loo­ked S. Peter, when he said, that the iust should hardly be saued, wherefore the wicked were sarre from that, that they could assure them selues of saluation. That there is a most certaine hope of saluation offered vnto the iust, he de­nieth not: but that it is geuen, vnlesse they take great paines and trauaile be­fore, that he denieth vtterly.

S. Peter againe in the selfe same e­pistle, to teach vs, that the entraunce [Page 255] vnto saluation is not shut vppe to the 1. Pet. 3. ddead, saith, that Christe preached the gospell to those sowles, that were in custodie or ward. He saith not, that Christ going downe to hel declared that ioyfull and glad tydinges to the holy Fathers onely, but also to menne which were committed to ward, that is to say, to men which were shut vp in prison for offences committed. And left it might be thought, that those mē, whome Christ at that time instructed with a more cleere and exacte know­ledge, had ben before vtterly voide of [...]aith, he added: Such as had been some Ibide [...] ▪time vnbeleeuing. And againe lest some man might suspect, that that sen­tence had ben spoken by them, the which, although they had sometyme cōmitted some offences, yet had spent the greatest part of their life in faith and religion, he saith: that the gospel, that is to say, the tidings of euerlasting saluation was brought to them, which [Page] in the daies of Noe made light of the counsel and aduertisement of the ho­ly man: the whiche notwithstanding, (before thei were cōsumed in the flud) were better aduised, and gat pardon of their synnes and offences: but yet so, that for their long offence, they suffred in hell a long penaunce. Out of the which place it is gathered by the au­toritie of S. Peter, that such, as repent them selues in lyke māner of their vn­cleane and synful liuing in the ende of their life, and depart out of this bodie with a burning faith, shal after the same fasshion be kepte in prison, vntil they haue suffred suche punishment as God hath appointed, and vntil being more cleerely instructed in the thinges ap­perteyning to God, (in the whiche in­struction and receiuing of the light stā ­deth, as S. Denyse saith, the somme of the purgation) they may be caried vp into those ioyfull dwelling places of heauen.

[Page 256] S. Paule also writing to the Corin­thians, saith. What shal they do, which 1. Cor. 15. d.are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Wherefore are they baptized for them? To be baptized in in this place, is to offer vppe him selfe as a satisfactorie or pourging Sacrifice to wasshe and clense the spottes of sowles. Wherevpon our Lorde him Luc. 22. [...]selfe shewed, that he was very sore pained with the earnest desire that he had of baptisme, that is to say, of that most wholesome wasshing, wherein he should offer vp him selfe a Sacri­fice vpon the Aulter of the Crosse for Mat. 2 [...]. [...]the synnes of mankind. And of the two brethren, whiche sought to haue the highest roome with him in his king­dom, he demaūdeth, whether they be [...]eady to beare him cōpanie in the same baptisme. To be baptized therefore for the dead is nothing els, but to honour God with some pourging Sacrifice or offering for the saluation of the dead, [Page] and to offer vp with good heart euen the Sacrifice of our body for their sal­uation.

The which thing S. Paule did, as it appeereth, not only for the dead, but 1. Cor. 15. d.also for the liuing. For immediatly af­ter he saith thus. Wherefore doe we also put our selues in ieoperdie euerie day? I doe die dayly for your glorie, which I haue in our Lord Iesus Christ. By the whiche place it may be gathe­red, that S. Paule, so o [...]ten as he aduen­tured his life for the state of the holy Church, so often did he administer the Sacrament and Sacrifice of this bap­tisme: the whiche thing he did then 2. Tim. 4. [...].most worthely, when he died a moste honorable death for the glory of Christ and saluation of al men. For he sayde, that he was to be offered vp as a Sa­crifice, at that tyme especially, when death, by the which he should be deli­uered out of the prison of his bodie, approched neere. By the which place [Page 257] it is euidently prooued, that many o­ther also haue offred vp most holy Sa­crifices for the dead, that is to say, for the saluation of the deade. The which thing if it were alwayes done in vaine, then might it be concluded, that such, [...]s are deade, should neuer returne a­gaine to liue.

But now, for so much as it was not done in vaine, (for otherwise S. Paule would neuer haue borne withal) it fo­loweth necessarily, that prayers made for the saluation of the dead are not superfluous, and that the sowles of such, as are departed this lyfe, are hol­pen by the prayers, vowes, and Sa­crifices of the lyuing. The whiche sowles so departed, for so much as thei [...]re neither buried in euerlasting dark­nesse (for then could they not get out by any mans prayers) neither yet pla­ced in heauen (for there should they not neede any mans prayers) it fol­loweth, that they be in some other [Page] place, which we are wont to call pur­gatorie.

Many other thinges might be spo­ken to this purpose. Many things haue ben verie well alleaged of diuers god­ly and holy men to confirme this mat­ter: but if there had ben no such thing, yet the faith of the holie Churche, which hath alwaies continewed vn­defiled euen from the Apostles tyme till our daies, might haue suffised vs abundantly. But you, when you see most euident testimonies, when you are not able to shift our argumentes, when you are conuinced by the auto­ritie of the holy Fathers, when you may see the agreement of the whole Churche, yet wil you of an vncre­dible stubbornesse continewe in the wicked opinion, which you haue once taken.

What shal I here say of prayers and vowes made in Sacrifice for the liue [Page 258] and the dead? Is there any tyme, in the which it is not lawful for Christiā men to vse charitie, the perfection of whose Religion resteth in charitie? Can there be deuised any greater deede of charitie then that, wherein we praie vnto God most seruently for the saluation of our brethern? Is there any tyme more meete and conueniēt to doe this holy woorke, then that is, when we goe about to appeace the maiestie of God, not with the Sacri­fice of brute beastes, but with the bodie and bloude of Christe? Is there any thing more agreable to the ordre of our Religion, which doe beleeue, that suche as departe out of this mor­tall bodie with true faith, doe not die, but lyue, then to ioyne them with suche, as remayne in this lyfe: and to praye vnto Christe, whiche was offered vppe for vs, both for the lyuing, as also for them, that are depar­ted out of this life?

[Page] Cal you this godlie point of Reli­gion, this holy worke of most feruent charitie, this wholesome Sacrifice of­fered vppe not onely for vs, but also for our brethern, vnto whome wee are knit with an euerlasting bande of loue, call you this, I say, the disho­nestie of Religion? Is this no outrage? Is this no madnesse? Is this no impu­dencie?

To refuse lawefull authoritie, to breake the aunciēt ordre of the Chur­che, to deflowre holy virgins, to robbe good matrones of their chastitie, to cancell the verie remembraunce of of vertue, Religiō, and iustice, to quēch the loue of honestie and gentlenes, to prophane and robbe Churches, to take holy men, and some to murder, some to spoile and put to all the villanie in the worlde, some others to bannishe out of their countrey, to awrecke the malice your beare towardes god­lines vpon the relikes of Sainctes, to [Page 259] vaunt your selues like helhoundes in the waste and sacke of holy thinges, shal this be accompted as honest and gloriouse, shall this be esteemed as a matter worthie of immortal commen­dation and praise? And to be bound to obeie authoritie grounded vppon the commaundement and ordinaunce of Christ, to conserue the band of peace and concord, to honour and reuerence the iustice and mercie of God ioyned together in one, to cal to remembrāce the goodly monumentes of holines, to offer vp that most holy and noble Sa­crifice (the vertue whereof we cā nei­ther expresse with woordes, neither yet conceyue in heart) for the liuing and the dead, and for the good estate of the whole Christian cōmon weale: shal this be such a dishonestie as may not be borne? And yet you are not afraied to cal al these thinges the dis­honour of Religion, and to say, that I am not ignorant, by whome these [Page] thinges are cropen in, but that I dis­semble it to serue the eares of my compagnions.

Of lyke, Sir, all these thinges, whiche you mislike, and call the dis­honestie of Religion, were deuised and brought in, by brothels and baw­des, or elles by suche felowes, as serue the bellie, luste, or vnstedfastnesse of the people for their commodities sake, and not by the spirite of Christe, and by most continent and holy menne, in whome was the spirite of Christe. But you are neuer able to prooue that you say. For both reason and the te­stimonie of all antiquitie, as also the authoritie of holy Fathers doe vrge and presse you, yea and conuince you of impudencie: but wee haue putte backe the violent pusshe of this your vngodlynesse and malice, with argumentes most sure, with te­stimonies most graue, with examples most true.

[Page 260] Whereas you say, that I speake o­therwyse then I thinke, to serue the eares of my compagnions, I see well, you are wel acqueinted with my be­hauiour. I am lyke to be suche a man, as would spend my tyme with all di­ligence to learne to flatter, and to write, not what I thinke, but what I imagine may be best liked of my com­pagnions. I besech Christe the iudge of the liuing and of the dead, if I write not, in matters concerning Re­ligion, those thinges which I thinke, whiche I iudge to be true, whiche I beleeue assuredly, that he suffer me not to enter into that most gloriouse and euerlasting Citie of heauen, and that he let me not to haue the ioyfull fruition of his owne light and bright­nes for euermore.

For what is the Popedome els, but a ministration of an authoritie, which is lawefull and ordeyned by God? What is our beleefe of Purgatorie, [Page] but a declaration of Gods iustice and mercie together? What is the honou [...] geuen vnto Sainctes, but a reuerent consideration of the worke of God, in the which appeereth the almighty po­wer and bountifulnes of God muche more, then in the making of heauen, yea or in al the works of nature. What are the praiers made in our Sacrifice for the liuing and the dead, but a work of moste perfecte holinesse, of moste excellent Religion, of moste seruent charitie?

These be dishonest points, which you haue takē a way. There is good cause, why you should glorie in it, and haue your name recorded with honor to al the posterity. for you haue brought in, for obeying of holy and lawful autho­ritie, rebellion: for the feare of purga­torie, a rash a [...]fiaunce of licentiousnesse vnpounished: for dewe woorshipping of Sainctes, the contempte of holi­nesse and iustice: for the religious ob­seruation [Page 261] of the most holie sacrifice, and charitable behauiour of men, a despising of religion and forgetting of charitie: yea moreouer and this, you haue brought in a scornfull laughter exceding al modestie, together with a sawcie talke passing all ciuilitie. Are these thinges comelie, M. Haddon? Are these thinges honourable? Are these thinges to be commended? Are these thinges to mabe a shewe of?

But you saie, that the Bishoppes of Rome keepe warres, that in Rome is kept a market of purgatorie, that holie thinges are there set out to sale, that manie men are to muche incombred with superstition in the woorshipping of Sainctes, that Priestes liue not very continently, and that they abuse their sacrifices now and then to their luker and gaine.

First of all as towching warres you must thinke, that we can not of reason and equitie condemne all warres. For [Page] they are some times begonne for the defence of Religion, and maintenance of a iust cause.

As for the buying and selling of ho­lie thinges, if in so manie hundred yeares some suche matter haue ben vsed, it is no wonder. For (as you saie your selfe) it can not be chosen, but that sometimes in the good corne there will growe some weedes. And if anie such abuse haue ben, it is now ta­ken quite awaie.

If superstition trouble mens mindes now and then, it is verie easily taken awaie by the labour and diligence of Bishops. The vicious and vncleane life of Priestes is verie seuerely punished. And there are at this time emongest vs a great manie moe of them, that liue verie continently, then of such, as will disteine them selues with vicious and vncleane liuing.

Last of all, to passe ouer all other, the vertuous, godlie, and religiouse [Page 262] example of this most holie Pope Pius the fifth, (whome neither ambition, neither coueteousnes, neither the fa­uour of the people, neither yet the rashnes of men, but the holie Ghoste hath placed in this roome of highe honour and dignitie) bringeth to passe, that all thinges waxe better and bet­ter euerie daie, and that verie manie are stirred to the loue of true godli­nes.

But admitte there were no suche matter at this time, as I talke of: admit that al went to naught, and that there were no man to refourme the church where it is decaied: should it be well done by and by to euerthrow all such thinges, as haue ben wisely ordeined, so soone as men doe abuse them to naughtines? No truly: but rather to prouide, as neere as we maie, that holy thinges maie no more be abused. For otherwise all would decaie, and there wold folow a meruelous disorder and [Page] confusion of thinges in the Churche.

If you, as you haue for the misbe­hauiour of a fewe monkes (as you saie) taken quite awaie the whole order, and for the lewdnes of certain Pristes ouerthrowen the dignitie of Priest­hood, and authoritie of Bishopps: so you woulde procede, (for it standeth with as good reason as the other doth) and for the default of a Magistrate, or Prince, or King, which hath not done his dewtie, take awaie the orderly go­uernment of the common weale, to­gether with the Kinglie honour and authoritie: the worlde shoulde come againe to that confusion, which (as the Poetes report) was, before that nature was disposed and set in comelie order. For what thing is so holie, the whiche men maie not abuse sometimes to doe much harme and mischiefe? For, that we maie goe no further, wedlocke it selfe, (which you preferre before per­petuall virginitie) is it alwaies kept in [Page 263] such chaste, godly, and religious order, as it ought to be? Doe the housbādes neuer looke besides their wiues? Doe the wiues neuer beguyle their hous­bandes? Are there no aduowtries cō ­mitted nowe and then emong? Yeas questionles are there: and manie fowle and shameful actes are done of maried men oftentimes, with great rashnes and impudencie. Shall we therfore, for the lewd demeanour of some maried persones, breake the band of man and wife, and take awaie the holie state of lawfull wedlocke? No truly. For then woulde men and women runne vnto it without order, and there woulde be no differēce betwene them and brute beastes. Wherfore although all our doinges were voide of al good order, honestie, and religion: yet are not such thinges, as haue ben for a most godlie pourpose deuised and ordeined, forth­with to be disannulled, but rather or­der woulde be taken, that thinges, [Page] which are amisse, might be amended. Neither are suche thinges, as maie be cured, to be cut of: neither yet, if the festered and corrupt partes of the bo­dy must needes be pared of, is it ne­cessarie for that to destroie the whole bodie, whiche maie be recouered: nei­ther is the state of a common weale to be altered, so soone as anie disor­der happeneth in it, but rather reason woulde, that al such matters, as are de­caied, should be brought again to that comelie order, in the whiche they were at the begynning.

Aristotel telleth, that there was a certaine man called Hippodamus of Milesium, which wrote of a common weale. Emongest other matters he re­citeth a lawe of his, by the which he decreed, that a great rewarde shoulde be geauen out of the common trea­sure to him, that coulde deuise anie lawe profitable for the commō weale. This decree Aristotel misliketh. For he [Page 264] thinketh, that there woulde be an end in making of lawes, bicause the often Often chaun­ging of lavves daunge­rous.chaunging of them is wont by litle and litle to bring them into contempt: and the lawes being once despised, the good estate of a common weale can not long continewe. Wherefore that excellent learned man counsel­leth al such, as make lawes, to foresee, that there be not more euyll in the of­ten altering of the lawes, then there is in that disorder, which they goe about to refourme by the new lawe. For he thinketh it more safetie to keepe indif­ferēt good lawes, then to make others not muche better. Wherein he hath good reason. For whie, that constant and perpetuall reuerence towardes the lawes causeth a certaine feare and bashfulnes, and linketh men together within them selues with a sure and in­uiolable band of equitie. But this fond appetite that men haue to alter and chaūge the law (without fom weighty [Page] cawse) engendreth a presumpteouse boldnes, and maketh a waie by subtile and wilie meanes to take the lawe quite awaie, and to bring in tyrannie. And although there came none other inconuenience of it, yet at the least it disordereth the common weale.

Nowe this, whiche is to be feared about the innouation of lawes, is to be determined about religion so muche the more constantly, the greater the perill is to offend in religion, then in anie other thing. This thing cōsidered the fownders of common weales of olde time, punished such, as brought in anie new tricke of religion out of other places, with death or banishmēt, and decreed, that the rites or fashions of the countrey shoulde be most con­stantly reteined. Wherin, although they had shaped them selues a religion after a very bad sort, and liued in great errours, yet was this their ordinaunce not altogether voide of good reason [Page 265] and consideration. For if it were possi­ble, that some one religion might be more commendable then some other, he, that should take awaie an old reli­gion, whiche were not vngodly, to set [...]p an other religion, that were but a litle better, should do a shrewd tourne to the common weale.

Whie so, saie you? Bicause he should bring in a custome to alter Religion, and, by consequent, to bring Religion into contempt. And so it might come to passe, that diuers and sundrie reli­gions coming in one after an other, being either deuised by craftie wittes, or els taken out of other countreis, might moue great debate about the establishing of religiō: and while euery religiō should disprooue one an other, the matter might by litle and litle so fall out at the length, that all religion hould come to naught.

The which thing being true, (that we maie retourne to our disputation [Page] againe) how is this to be taken, that a religion, which, is most true, holy, and auncient, approoued and confirmed by the testimony of God, by the bloud of Christe, by the faith of holie men, shoulde be discredited by reason of a new gospel deuised bi the wit of a sort of filthy varlets? Is it not a consequent (as we now see it fal out euery where) that there arise a nomber of religions of diuersse [...]ortes, all vngodlye and naught, yea and iarring within them selues? That they arise one against an other? That euerie one of them dis­prooue the folie of others? That neuer a one of them being able to mainteine it selfe by grownded reason, and strōg argument, they come all at the length to be despised and set at naught?

By these steppes or degrees are mē come to that point at the length, that manie a one raiseth vp the damned sprites of Arius, Sabellius, and other most detestable heretikes from holl▪ [Page 266] and reneweth their errours, whiche were before buried: some others thinke, that there is no Religion true it all, and perswade them selues, that the worlde is not gouerned by God. This fruicte haue the brochers of your newly deuised and fresh tapped gospel brought into common weales, that [...]uerie man maie professe him selfe▪ to [...]e a setter vp of a newe Religion, and [...]ake vp the sweard against all other, [...]hat are deuisers of the like pestilent [...]ectes: whereby it is like at the length, [...]hat al order of Religiō maie be taken quite awaie. O what bountifull and [...]rofitable felowes are these, whiche [...]aue so woorthely prepared a waie to [...]l mischiefe and vngodlines?

And yet you asked me, what came [...]to my head, to affirme, that these [...]ectes are daungerous and hurtful vnto Princes. Tel me sir, I praie you, such as [...]aue presumed to doe so great villa­ [...]i [...], as to ouerthrowe the wonderful [Page] example of chast and cleane life, to de­face al monumentes of religiō and ho­lines, to burne the holie Canōs or rules of the Church openly at a sermon, to rase the state of the church with their weapons (where they might be suffred to doe it) to bring the people to hate the lawe, and so to plaie outragious and mad partes, to despise all lawfull authoritie, to set God and al godlie or­der at naught, to fil the Churches and chapples of religious men with bloud, to egge and allure the simple people through the hope of to much libertie to take vp armour: think you not, that these felowes (when so euer they shal finde occasion) will tourne the selfe same furie and rage vp [...]n the Princes them selues? Is it not wel knowen (as it is sa [...]ed before) what they haue wrought and practised against the em­perour in Germanie, against the estate and life of King Henrie in Fraunce, against Edward, whome they made [Page 267] awaie with poison, and afterwarde against Quene Marie in England? Is it not knowen, how traiterously and furiously they bent them selues against the maiestie of these Princes? What shal I here saie of the King of Scotlād, whome the worlde knoweth to haue ben most crewelly murdered? What? Haue they not wrought the like trea­son against many other Princes also?

I leaue out a number of examples of this barbarous villanie, whiche I could here recite. And, although there were none suche, yet woulde I not dowbt to saie so much, as I haue saied. For it is not the part of a wise man▪ when he seeth the cawse, to dowbt of the euent, whiche foloweth necessa­rily of the cawse. For when I see the common people void of feare, vnrulie and fearce through a pretensed name of libertie, outragiousely following their owne vnbridled wil and plesure, haughtely flingyng vp and down, bea­ring [Page] them selues vppon a false opinion of Religion: maie I dowbte, but that they are most spitefully bent against al authorititie, wherby they thinke, that their libertie, (which they so griedely long after) maie be hindered?

These are the thinges, M. Haddon, these are the thinges, that doe disho­nest Religion, and not those matters, which you speake of. For what is more comely and honest, then to obey such authoritie, as is ordeined by God? To dread and feare the iudgemēt of God? Reuerently to consider the mercie of God, in them, whome he first trieth by dewe punishment, and so admitteth them into life euerlasting? To call to mind the monumentes of iustice, god­lines and holines? To yeld vp humble praiers vnto God in the most holie sa­crifices, for the good estate of the li­uing, and for the saluation of the dead? But in the meane time, while you dowbte not to saie▪ that these most [Page 268] godlie orders are the thinges, that doe dishonest religiō, you marke not how great the dishonestie of your religiō is.

For, that I maie saie nothing [...]ls, can there be anie greater dishonestie of re­ligion, then that all Sacramentes and ceremonies, al decrees and ordinaun­ces of the Churche, al priesthood and holie orders shoulde be vnder the rule and gouernement of a woman? I meane not hereby to disgrace your Queene, whome I desire to see so beawtified and fournished with most excellent vertues, that her name maie remaine as a thing of holie remem­braunce vnto all the posteritie. Nei­ther doe I so muche blame her, as you, whiche haue by your flatterie brought her to this inconuenience, that she taketh her selfe to be gouer­nesse of the Churche. Tel me sir, if it like you, where haue you readde, that euer anie Prince tooke vpon him the office or charge of the high Bishoppe? [Page] No rather, all suche Princes as loued godlines and iustice, whose name is for their noble actes set out to the poste­ritie for euer, did reuerence the iudge­mēt of Priestes, refused not to be obe­dient vnto Bishoppes, and thought like verie wise men, that it would tourne to their euerlasting commendation, if they were gouerned by them. So did your great Cōstantine, the most woor­thie ornamēt and beawty of your Ilād: so did our Theodosius, so did Lewis King of Fraunce, so did a number of o­thers, which with most noble victories enlarged their Empiere verie farre: when they had subdewed al countreis with armour, they did so obey the de­crees and ordinaunces of Bishops, that they seemed to glorie not so much in their Empire, as in that obediēce. But you haue brought al holie thinges not only vnder a king, which (as I shewed before) were to be esteemed as a most heinous offēce, but also vnder a quene, [Page 269] against all right and reason, against the inuiolable reuerence of most pure re­ligion, against the ordinaunces of al­mightie God: you haue taken awaye the most holy dignity of the high bis­shoprike from the lawful bishops, and haue transposed it to be administred by a woman. The which, I say, was a most wicked deede, a most barbarouse acte, a most detestable and cursed of­fence. Whereby it may be gathered, that mans heart can imagine no mis­chiefe so horrible and diuellish, that these flatterers wil not take vpō them to practise it, with desperate boldnesse and impudencie.

Here do I passe ouer many thinges, and vnto the railing words, which you heape together against me, I answere you nothing, for in deede I regard them not. Neither is it my meaning to confute your railing wordes, but to take vppon me the defence of moste holy Religion, for the which it were [Page] a goodly matter for me to die. Al other thinges therefore I let passe, that I may come to that place, in the which you drawe bloud of your owne body, yea and geaue your selfe a deadly wound with your owne handes. Your wordes are these.

What then? This holy doctrine of the gospel, in the which we haue continued more then thirtye yeares together (the most troublesome space of six yeares ex­cepted) in the which the Queenes maie­stie hath passed ouer all her life, in the which she hath founde God so mercifull vnto ber, in the which the states of the realm are fully agreed, in the which ma­ny noble statutes and lawes haue ensewed: this true and sincere worshipping of al­mighty God, which is so diligently enuiro­ned and fortified on euery side by the Quenes maiesty, shal the voice of a seely felow of Portugal breake it downe? What a deale of matter you heape vp toge­ther, M. Haddō, how vnaduisedly you [Page 270] speake (that I may not say, how rashly and madly). for first of al, this, whiche you cal the holy doctrine of the gospel, is the doctrine of Luther, Zwinglius, Bucer, Caluin, and other the like brain­sicke felowes, which haue, not only by their most pestilent decrees and ordi­naunces, but also by the example of their filthy and vicious liuing, quite o­uerthrowen al chastitie, holines, mo­destie, meekenesse, and obedience: which haue broken and cast away true faith, and in steede of it haue set vppe a rashe and presumpteouse boldnesse: whiche haue taken awaie libertie (al­though in their talke they pretende otherwyse) and for that haue rewar­ded their adherentes with a licence to lyue in naughtinesse vncontrolled▪ whiche haue taken awaie the gyft of iustice (which is the greatest and lar­gest grace that man maie receyue of God) and for true iustice haue brought in a fevned and counterfeyte iustice [...] [Page] which, of a mad and vngodly minde, haue not ben ashamed to impute the cause of al synne and wickednesse to God that most perfecte goodnes, from whome no euil can proceede: which, (whereas they tooke vppon them to scoure or purge the gospel throughly, and to repaire the Churche agayne, which tendeth to ruine) haue not on­ly not perfourmed so muche, as they prowdly and rashly promised to doe, but haue moreouer beraied the Chur­che (the vncleanes whereof religious menne could not beare before) with much filthinesse of vice and naughti­nes, and haue brought it to be rent and riuen in peaces.

What should we thinke to be the cause, wherefore, when any man infe­cted with the contagion of this do­ctrine is taken emongest vs (whiche is counted here a very straunge matter) although he set neuer so sad or graue countenaunce vpon it to make a co­lour [Page 271] and shewe of holinesse, yet will the concealed trickes of a disordered and carnal mind shewe them selues, and manie fowle vices, whiche were before hidden vnder the couert of hy­pocrisie, wil foorth with appeere. For the more a man geueth him selfe to this doctrine, the more is he contrarie to bashfulnes and continencie.

I omit to speake of your earnest talke, wherein you say, that this newe broched Church, which is disteined with innumerable vices, may be com­pared with the Churche of the Apo­stles, which was most flourishing with heauenly gyftes, with religion and ho­linesse.

As for that comparison of myne, wherein I shewed, what great diffe­rence there was betwene the twoo Churches, I would not haue you vain­ly and without any fruicte to find fault withal. For as yet you haue not con­futed it, neither shal you euer be able [Page] to doe it. And who so euer shall at­tempt to do it, shall doe nothing elles, but only set out to the world his owne madnes and impudencie together, and cause al men to laugh at his folie, and abhorre his malice.

That I may therfore omit that foo­lish and shamelesse talke of yours, I would you would compare this your Church, but onely with the Churche of your auncetours: the which thing if you doe, you shall finde, that there is brought in for the religious conuersa­tion of your forefathers, a presump­tuouse boldnes: for their grauitie and constancie, a light and vnsetled ha­rishnesse: for their continencie, sen­sualitie: for their manhood nicenesse. And will you call this the holy Do­ctrine of the gospel, which hath ouer­throwen and defaced so many holie thinges, and in steede of them hath brought in such a deale of naughtines and disordre?

[Page 272] The firste founding of the protestantes Churche. Call to remembraunce I pray you the first founding of this your Chur­che. For you maie not wel dissemble suche thinges, as are commonly tal­ked of all menne, and in writing com­mended to the euerlasting remem­braunce of all the posteritie. Wan­tonnesse and loue were the first set­ters vppe of it: the breache of lawe and ordre, and a hatred towardes the Pope for geauing sentence agaynst the offender enlarged it: the flat­terie of lewde felowes with the healp of lying walled it: inordinate desire and coueteousnesse fensed it: the pu­nishinge of holie and innocent per­sonnes halowed it: the putting of al menne in feare confirmed it: final­lye the Doctrine of suche menne, as were sent into those coastes not from Godde, but from Satan, infected it with moste pestilent and seditious er­ [...]ours. Dare you call this a religious, [...]odly, and holy doctrine, whose begin­ning, [Page] proceding, increase, and ende you see (vnlesse you be in extreme and miserable blindnesse) to haue ben set vppon, folowed, and finished with naughtinesse, incontinencie, hatred, coueteousnes, creweltie, outrage and madnes?

Then, what a fopperie is that, to say, that you haue continewed in this doctrine, more then thirtie yeares to­gether? O reuerēt horeheaded gospel. O auncient heauenly doctrine. O old vnspotted religion. But you thinke, that you being a wittie and wilie in­terpretour of the law forsooth, neede not recke much for the antiquitie of your doctrine. For you seeme to plead prescription, and therefore you content your selfe with the space of thirtie yeares, within the which tyme you thinke, that the ordre of your re­ligiō may be lawfully possessed. How­beit if you take awaye from thyrtie yeares the space of six yeares, whiche [Page 273] you call a troublesome time) it is eui­dent, that this your holy Gospel is not yet fully thirtie yeares olde.

But admitte that the thirtie yeares were fully expired, if this title of pre­scription be good, then may the Ara­bians much better mainteine their sect, then you can yours. For you defende your heresy by the prescriptiō of thirty yeres: but they wil vphold the wicked superstitiō of Mahumet by the possessi­on of more then nine hundred yeares.

You saie moreouer, that the Quenes Maiestie (for such a pleasure haue you [...]o flatter, that you neuer call her the Queene, as though in the name of a Quene, there were litle dignitie, or [...]ls [...]er Maiestie should decaie by and by, [...]f you should cal her Quene). You sai [...] [...]herfore, that the Quenes Maiesty hath [...]assed ouer al her life in this doctrine. That this is true, I haue none other warrant but your word. But if it b [...] so▪ [...]he fault is not so much in her, her [...] in h [...] [Page] teachers, who had the bringing vp of her, when shee was of age tender and weake, and therefore the more meete to be abused by such subtile and craftie felowes.

Last of all, it is not as yet euidently seene, so long as shee is not free from your tyrannie, which vnder her name, as men saie, doe possesse the kingdom, what waie she woulde take in al these matters. Of thys I am righte well assured, that her singular wit is not by nature so obstinately bente to main­teine an opinion once conceiued, or so muche geauen to naughtie and false doctrine, that it is not very flex­ible to yealde vnto good reason, and verie willing to forsake false doctrine, and to folowe that which is true and incorrupted. Wherefore I doubte not, if she be so wittie, as you say shee is, but that shee will (so soone as euer shee may doe it for your importunitie) turne from this your wicked doctrine, [Page 274] to the honest, godly, and profitable do­ctrine of the Church.

And wheras you adde these words: In the which shee hath found God so merciful vnto her: Me thinketh, you vnder­stand not in what thing the testimonie or proufe of Gods mercy standeth▪ For it standeth not so much in the glory of the people, or in the prosperouse suc­cesse of worldli matters, as in the peace [...]d quietnes of cōsciēce, in a mind beu­tifully decked with the giftes and gra­ces of God, in faith and vpright cōuer­ [...]atiō, in true and vncorrupted doctrine, [...]n that state of life, which is abundantly [...]rnished with heauenly vertues. Fur­ [...]hermore, if shee haue had God very [...]erciful vnto her, and haue not tryed [...]r fealt as yet his iudgement, she ought [...]o be so muche the more carefull, that [...]e do not offend him, and that she doe [...]ot abuse his mercy and clemencie to [...]e contempt of his most pure and holy [...]eligion. And to make so much of fiue [Page] yeares prosperitie, it argueth a' [...]er­ueilouse great rashnes in you. When Solon warned Cresus, that he shoulde not trust to much to prosperouse for­tune: he taught him, that the prospe­ritie not of fiue yeares, but of manie yeares, is to be feared: and he shewed withal, that no man is to be accounted happie, so long as he liueth. This Cre­sus being afterward ouercome by Cy­rus and set vppon a pile of wood to be burned, called with a lowd voice vpō Solon, by whome he had ben warned before of the cōdition of mans frailtie, and of the sodaine alteration of world­lie felicitie. Cyrus hearing the name of Solon, demaūded of Cresus what that Solon had ben. To whome Cresus an­swered that he had ben the wisest man in al Greece, of whom he had learned this lesson, that it is the greatest mad­nes in the worlde to be lifted vppe to much with prosperitie. Cyrus foorth­with, caused Cresus to be taken doune [Page 275] from the pile, and vsed him very ho­nourably, and him selfe in all his pro­speritie held a goodly meane.

These and the like examples are so wel knowen, and daily experience ge­ueth vs such occasiō to know the vn­certaintie of this our condition, that there can not be any greater token of madnes or folie, then to waxe proude, when the worlde serueth vs at will. For who so euer is puffed vp with the prosperouse successe of things, neither doth he vnderstand, how sodainlie all the wealth of the worlde vanisheth a­waie, and from howe high a griese or step many of the greatest Princes haue sallen, to the great wonder of al men: neither doth he consider, what a vio­lent kinde of seueritie that supreame Iudge vseth, whē he mindeth to shake as it were with a whirle winde, and throw down the estate of such as trust to much to them selues. Who is able to saie, that al things shal prosper with [Page] him, euen vntil his dying daie? Who is able to assure him selfe of one daie, yea of one hower voide of all calami­tie or mishappe? For as darkenes en­seweth vppon lighte, as the tempest is wonte to come vppon the water­men and mariners vnwares: euen so doth heauy chaunces oftetimes marre the flourishing state of fortunate men, and ouerwhelme them in the waues of al aduersity, and driue them against the rockes of euerlasting thraldome and miserie. And the more carelesse men are, the more grieuously are they pai­ned, when any suche calamitie falleth vpon them.

Wherefore it is the parte af a wise man, to consider long time before all suche mischaunces, as maie happen euery daie and hower, yea euerie minute of an hower: but it is a token of a foolish and madde felowe, in pro­speritie to forget the weakenesse of manne: especiallie whereas we see [Page 276] oftentimes, that almightie God nowe and then suffereth suche, as he is most offended withall, to haue the longer enioying of their apparente felicitie, that he maie of a sodaine strike them, that will not repente, and geue them the deeper wounde. And therefore our Lorde warneth vs, that we be Gen. 7. [...].not like vnto them, which in the daies of Noe liued a rechelesse life, and so cō tinued euē vnto the time, in the which they were oppressed sodainly with the floud, which they could not possiblie auoid. He teacheth vs also by the so­daine Gen. 19. [...].fiering of those Cities, that his iudgement catcheth improuidēt men, as it were with secrete grynnes or snares, in such sort, that they can not escape from euerlasting pounishment and tormentes.

If these thinges be true, what a madnes was that in you, for fiue yeres prosperitie, to vaunt your selfe so ar­rogantly and vainely? To triumph [Page] so insolently? to build so great an argu­ment of Gods fauour towardes you vpon so slender a ground? See you not howe manie nations there are in the worlde vtterly voide of the faith of Christe, whose estate is a great deale more flourishing then yours is? If this argument were any thing woorth, see how easily the Turkes shall be able to auouche their pestilent secte, wherein they are drowned. You mainteine your cause with fiue yeares felicitie: but they wil proue their Religion to be true by their great victories, and by the very prosperouse successe, which they haue had in all their affaires for the space of many yeares.

Last of al, are you wel ascerteined, what alteration one day, or rather one hower, may bring vnto your state? Wherefore are you then so bragge? Wherefore do you vaunt your selfe so farre beyonde all modestie, as though you were free and past al daunger, yea [Page 277] as though you were altogether exem­pted from the bondes of the condition of man in suche sorte, that you coulde not possibly be ouertaken with any so­daine mishap?

As for the agreement of your coun­cel in bringing the auncient Religion to be set at naught and forgotten, (if it be so as you saie) and in makinge the Quenes Maiestie Superintendent in al spiritual matters, I haue already decla­red, that neither of them both coulde be donne without incurringe the grie­uouse displeasure of God. If you think, that you shall escape vnpunished, bi­cause it is delaied, take hede, if you re­pēt not, while you haue time, lest you doe increase through this your pre­sumption, the plague, that hangeth ouer you.

As for the hope, which I conceiued (as you saie) of your Quene, and ther­fore wrote those my letters vnto her, it repenteth me not, as yet of my do­inges. [Page] If I haue donne any good, it will appeare at the lengthe. If I haue donne none, yet the significa­tion of my good heart towardes her, can not be but wel taken of her, if shee wil continue in her accustomed cour­tesie and gentlenes.

You saie, I shall not bring her to be of myne opinion, no, althoughe I should write sixe hundred millions of Philippicall Orations. I would faine knowe, how you are able to auouche that. Thinke you, that she is of nature so barbarous and sauage, that although I doe detecte the craftie dealinge and priuie practises of naughtie felowes, and prooue them vnto her by Argu­mentes inuincible, by reasons more cleere then the sonneshine at noone­tide, if I set before her eyes the filthines and lewdnes of this counterfeict religi­on, which they haue most wickedlie and heinously deuised, if I declare vnto her in plaine words, how childish your [Page] reasons are, wherwith you goe abou [...] to mainteine their cause, and how il fa­uoredly thei hang together: think you, I sai, that she wil, notwithstāding althis rather imbrace your most detestable opinion to her certaine and vtter vn­doing, then cal to mind againe the true Religion, which hath ben forgottē for a time through the default and naugh­tines of such as should haue put her in remembrance of it, to her most assured saluation and glory euerlasting? If rea­son shal ouercome he [...] if the authoritie of holie Fathers shall cause her to yealde, if the Lawe of God shall put it into her heart, that shee wil desire to forsake and detest this your secte: yet haue you so good affiaunce in your owne force, and so little estimation of the sharpenesse of her witte and iudgemente, that you dare warrant, that vnlesse you geaue her leaue, shee shall neuer retourne (doe what shee can) vnto that godly order of Religion, [Page] whiche her moste noble Progenitours obserued and kepte very honourably, to their great profit and immortal glo­rie? Shall you Syr, haue her at your commaundement and becke: shal you take order with her: shal you prescribe her what shee shal beleue, in such sort, that for feare of falling into your dis­pleasure, she shal not regard her owne life and dignitie: but shal rather suffer her selfe to be carried awaie into euer­lasting tormentes and damnation, then to gainsaie your opinion, be it neuer so vngodlie, heinouse, and wicked, yea and mainteined with neuer so fond and peeuish kinde of talke?

But be it. Admitte she be so much an vnderling vnto you, that shee dare not for her life once dissente from you in any thing. What if shee shalbe mo­ued by the instinct of the holy Ghost? What if Christ him selfe shal stirre her heart to consider and enioye his gra­ciouse giftes? What if God wil set vp [Page 279] such a light before her heart, that shee may see how certaine wicked persons woorke priuie treason against herlyfe and persone? And, that I may say no­thing els, what if she shall receiue but onely such a smal quantitie of the light of God, that shee may see, that Luther with his disciples and folowers, were neuer moued by the holy Ghoste, but pricked foreward by the fendes of hel, and that they came not to instructe men with wholsome doctrine, but to infecte them with moste pestilente er­rours? What? Wil you this notwith­standinge, holde her backe, will you shackle her in such sorte, that she shall not possibly geue eare to the holy warninges and counsels of God? To con­tinue in a wicked opinion being once conuinced as erroneouse, is the parte of a dul and blunt wit: to be afraid of the vniust displeasure of her own sub­iects, is a token of a base and coward­lie heart: but to refuse the gift of Gods [Page] mercy, to reiect his gratious aid, when it is offred, is an argumtē of an vngodli ād naughty mid. So shal it com to passe, that you, while you desire to put the worlde to vnderstand what a perilous felowe you are, shal falsely charge that Princesse, whome you reporte to be moste excellentlie fournished with all vertues, passingly well adourned with many singular qualities, with dulnes of wit, with feintnes of heart, and with the crime of impietie.

Truely M. Haddon she is very much beholdinge vnto you for your goodly seruice, if you haue by your diligence, so besette her on euery side, that, al­though she see her self tombled doune headlong into euerlasting death and damnatiō, yet she may not be so hardy in her hert (if you saie nay to it) as once to which or step aside, to auoide the daunger, that hangeth ouer her, lest in so doing, shee might trouble your pa­tience (more grieuouslie perhappes [Page 280] then a man would thinke). And yet am I moued to refreine to write vnto her, [...]ny more of the same matter for verie iust and good causes. For I think I haue very wel discharged my duety, both in my letters which I sent vnto her, as al­so in this answer, which I write against your booke, if it happe to come to her hands. Either therfore the things that I haue already written shall haue suffi­ciente force and strength to make her heart to yelde, or els I shal not be able to doe it, although I write againe. And in deede, I haue not so much vacante time, that I may spend it without any fruict or profite.

Let vs now come to your good coūsel, wherin you aduertise me, that I should not once hādle the holi scriptures. you cōmend my wit, and my eloquēce you do not mislike. But you say, that I am to be reckoned emongest the Ora­tours and Philosophers, and not emon­gest the Diuines, My bokes of nobility [Page] (for it is like you neuer read any othe [...] bookes of myne) you sale you like ve­ry wel. I am right glad, that my wr [...] ­tinges are commended by a manne so finely learned, and so trymly nourte­red: and your friendly counsell I take it in good worth. And therfore it liketh me to speake vnto you (Syr newe Di­uine) Damasip­ [...]us had no [...]hing of a [...] but [...]ely a [...]ard: The [...]ber [...]erfore [...]ing [...]rd, [...] avvai [...] Philo­phie.with the selfe same verses, as Ho­ratius feineth him selfe to haue vsed to Damasippus a new Stoike.

But howe came you to be so well ac­quainted with me? Who tolde you, that I haue not bestowed a great deale more studie in Diuinitie then in Cice­ro, Demosthenes, Aristotle and Plato. You cōmend my wit. what then? think you that the study of Diuinitie is mete for dul heads onely and drawlatohes▪ You like my eloquēce: [...] you there­fore [Page 281] that the holy Scriptures would be handled of rudesbies only and homly felowes? Wheras you geue authoritie to women, to tinkers and tapsters, to the rifferaffe of al occupations, to ian­gle and prate at rouers in Scripture matters: wil you forbid me, being not only a bishoppe and Prieste, and long tyme exercised in the holy Scriptures with some profitte, but also a man (as you report your selfe) both wittie and eloquent, to followe this most godlie trade of learning? Then by what e­quitie, by what power, by what auto­ritie doe you this? shal it be lawful for you being a man of lawe, to geaue o­uer the statutes made for walles, lights, and eues gutters: to despise and cast a side your obligations, bargaines, and couenantes: to lay away the drawing of writes and suites in lawe: and to take vppon you in Diuinitie as bold as blind baiard▪ and to me, to whom it a [...] ­perteyneth by office to instructe the [Page] Church committed vnto me in the ho­ly Scriptures, wil you not geue leaue, to bestome much tyme and diligence in the studie of them? You are in­iurious two waies. For you doe both violently intrude your selfe into other mens possessions, and wrōgfully thrust me out of myne owne by your vniust iniunctions.

Now those threates of yours, howe weighty and graue are they? What a great terrour doe they put into me? You say thus. If so be that you mind to vaunt your selfe to certaine men, and so to assault vs any more, I warne you now before, that you come with farre better furniture, then you haue done at this tyme.

You tel me moreouer, that, in case you be dead before, yet there shal not lacke such, as shal breake the dint of my stroke, Whereby I see, that you could neuer so much as gesse, what my mea­ning is. I knowe, that there are in that [Page 282] Iland many excellēt men both, for wit, learning, and godlines, which wil ne­uer molest me, for so much as they a­gree with me in religion meruelously wel: (although you thinke it a matter not to be borne.) Then if any man doe write against me, in case he wil cōtend with reason, argumētes and examples, I wil not refuse to dispute with him. But if he fal to railing and reprochfull wordes, I can not possibly be persua­ded to make him answere. For neither am I moued with any reproch, neither can I looke, that that victorie should tourne me to honestie, where the maner of fight is so vnhonest. If I shal see, that there is any hope to win you and suche as you are to God, I will not doubt to trie both by letters and pray­ers, what good I am able to do. Other­wise I wil not suffer my tyme, wherof I haue litle to spare, to be so [...]l be­stowed. Tit. 3. c.For so doth S Paule teach vs, that after one or two warnings wee [Page] should shonne the companie of suche menne as are obstinatly bent in erro­neouse and wicked opinions, for so much as they are condemned by their owne iudgement. Wherefore I geaue you leaue, to bende your selfe moste fiercely against me with taūtes and re­proches. Rore as much as you list, crie out as lowd as you can. For neither is it conuenient for my person, neither yet comely for the office I beare, to be moued with railing wordes, or elles to make answere to euerie slaunder. I neuer reuiled you, whome I knewe not.

As for my epistle, which you rend and teare with spitefull languague, it hath not one reprochful word in it, vn­lesse perhaps you wil cal the most iust bewailing and most true declaration of errours and wicked vices a reproche. And yet like a wilde bore thrust tho­rough with a venemous dart, you rāne vpō me, as though you had ben wood. [Page 283] But I was not only nothing disquieted with your reprochfull words, but also moued to laugh at your fond talke. I take my God to witnesse, that, if the loue, which I beare to true Religion and godlines, had not earnestly moued me, I had neuer put pen to the paper to write against your booke. But if you knew, how much I pity your case, and what a hartie desire I haue of your sal­uation, (for I would with all my hart, as the dewty of a Christian man requi­reth, yeald my selfe to die for the sal­uation of you and your countrei men) you would surely be at one with me. For I was not moued by anie euyl wil I beare you, but it was verie charitie, that prouoked me instantly to write. I praie Christ our most bowntifull and almightie Lord, I humbly besech him, by his precious bloud shead for the sal­uation of al men, by his woundes and most bitter passion, by his death, by the which he ouercame death, by his vi­ctorie [Page] whiche he atchieued ouer the kingdome of Satan, to deliuer that kingdom, in the which hath ben some­time a dwelling place of vertue, re­ligion, grauitie and iustice, and is now disordered thorough the lewdnes of desperate felowes, from errours and heresie: to make the brightnes of his light to shine ouer them: to bring them againe to the faith and vnitie of most true Religiō: to carie them backe vnto the fold of the catholike Churche: to gouerne and mainteine them by the assistance of his holy spirite: that al we, which are now sundered in opinions, maie at length agree in the vnitie of faith, and loue of true Religion, and so come to that euerlasting glorie, to the great reioysing of al the holie companie in heauen.