The Argument.

¶ Mans ſoule is deerely beloued vnto God hir Father. And yet for hir ſondry good graces, ſhe is tempted of ye diuell by iij diuers meanes, at iij. ſeuerall ages in this mortall lyfe, if ſhe reſiſt and ouercome the ſame, ſhe is therby adopted to the fruition of ma trimoniall ioy in heauen, with Chriſt the ſonne of God.

The firſt Hiſtorie.

SOme time there dwelt in Rome a mightie Emperour, which had a faire creature to his daughter named Athalāta, whom diuers great Lords and many noble Knights deſired to haue to wife. This Athalāta was wōnderous ſwift on ſoote, wherefore ſuch a law was ordained that no man ſhould haue hir to wife but ſuch as could out runne hir and take hir by ſwiftneſſe of foote.

And ſo it befell that many came and ranne with hir, but ſhe was ſo ſwifte that no manne might ouertake hir by courſe of running. At the laſt there came a Knight named Pomeis, vnto hir Father, and ſaid to him thus. My Lord, if it might pleaſe you to giue mée your daughter to wife, I will gladly runne with hir. Then ſaid hir father, there is ſuch a • aw ordained and ſett, that who ſo will • aue hir to wife, muſt firſt runne with hir, & if he faile in his courſe, that he ouer take hir not, he ſhall looſe his head, and if it fortune him to ouertake hir, than ſhall I wed hir vnto him.

And when the emperour had told him all the perill that might fall in the winning of hir, ye Knight voluntarily graū ted to abide that ieoperdie. Then the Knight lette ordaine him thrée balles of gold againſt the running. And when they had begun to runne a litle ſpace, the young Ladie ouer ranne him, than the Knight threw foorth béefore hir the firſt ball of gold. And when the damoſel ſaw the ball, ſhe ſtooped and tooke it vp, and that while the Knight wanne before hir, but that auayled lyttle, for whan ſhe perceiued that, ſhe ranne ſo faſt that in ſhort ſpace ſhée gat before him againe. And than he threw foorth the ſecond ball of gold, and ſhe ſtooped as ſhe did before to take it vp, & in that while the knight wanne before hir againe, which this young damoyſell ſéeing, conſtrained hir ſelfe and ranne ſo faſt till at the laſt ſhe had him at a vaū tage againe, and was afore him, and by that tyme they were nigh the marke where they ſhould abide, wherefore ye knight threw forth the third ball béefore hir, and like as ſhe had done before ſtooped downe to take vp the ball, and while ſhe was in taking vp ye third bal, the knight gat afore hir, and was firſt at the marke. And thus was ſhe wōne.

The Argument.

As God allotteth diuers men diuers callings & eſtats of liuing in this world, ſo is euery man • ryed by the rules of life & doctrine, whether his pract • e agree with his profeſsion, in p • ofiring himſelfe without preiudice of others, wherin if he ſo bold himſelfe • ōtent, for ſuch a ſonne, the heauenly, father hath planted a tree of heauenly treaſures, in the life euerlaſting.

The ſecond Hiſtorie.

THere dwelt ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour and a wiſe named Anſelme, which bare in his armes a ſheld of ſiluer with fiue red Roſes. This Emperour had in▪ ſonnes, whom he loued much, he had alſo continuall warre with the King of Egypt, in the which warre he loſt all his temporall goods, except a vertuous tree. It fortuned after on a daye, that hée gaue battaile to yt ſaid King of Egipt, wherein hée was grieuoſly wounded. Neuertheleſſe hée obtained ye victory, not withſtanding he had his deadly woūd, wherfore while hée laie at poynt of death hée called vnto him his eldeſt ſonne & ſaide, My moſt déere and welbéeloued ſonne, all my temporall richeſſe I haue ſpent and almoſt nothing is left mée, except a vertuous trée the which ſtandeth in the middeſt of mine Empyre, I giue to thée al that is vnder ye earth and aboue the earth of the ſame trée. O my reuerent Father (quod hée) I thanke you much. Then ſaide themperour, call to mée my ſecond ſonne. Anone his eldeſt ſonne greatly ioying of his fathers gift, called in his brother, and when hée came, than ſaide themperour. My déere ſonne (quod hée) I may not make my teſtament for as much as I haue ſpent all my goods, except a Tree which ſtandeth in myne Empyre, of the which Trée I béequeath to thée all that is great and ſmall. Then anſwered hée and ſayde. My reuerent father I thank you much. Then ſaid the Emperour, call to mée my third ſonne, and ſo it was done. And when hée was come, ye Emperour ſaid. My déere ſonne, I muſt die of theſe wounds, & I haue but onely a vertuous Tree, of the which I haue béequethed thy bretherne their porcion, and to thée I bequeth thy porcion, for I will that thou haue of the ſaid tree all that is wet and dry. Then ſaide his ſonne. Father I thanke you. Soone after that ye emperour had made his bequeſt he died. And ye eldeſt ſonne anone toke ſeaſon of the trée When the ſecond brother heard this, hée ſaide. My brother, by what law or tytell occupy yee this trée Déere • brother (quod hée) I occupy it by this title, my father gaue mee all that is vnder the earth & aboue of the ſaid tree, & therfore by reaſon this trée is mine. Unknowing to thee, quod the ſecond brother, hée gaue mée all yt is in bredth, lēgth, & deepnes, of ye ſaid trée, & therefore I haue as great right in the trée as you. This hearing ye third ſonne came to thē & ſaide. O yée my beſt belou'd bretherne, it beehoueth you not to ſtriue for this trée, for as much right haue I in this trée as yée, for wel yée wot by ye law, that ye laſt wil & teſtamēt ought to ſtād, for of truth hée gaue mée of the ſaid trée all that is wet and drye, and therefore by right ye trée is mine, but for as much as your words are of great force, & mine alſo, my counſaile is that wée be iuſtified by reaſon, for it is not good nor commendable that any ſtrife or diſſenciō ▪ ſhould bée among vs. Héere beeſide dwelleth a king of reaſon, therefore to auoid ſtrife, goe wée there vnto him, and eche of vs la • e his right beefore him, and like as hee will iudge, lette vs ſtand to his iudgemēt. Then ſaid his brethren, this counſaile is good, wherefore they went all thrée vnto the King of reaſon, and eche of them ſeuerally ſhewed foorth his right vnto him, like as it is ſaid beefore.

When the King had heard their titles, hée rehearſed them all againe ſeuerally, firſt ſaying to the eldeſt ſonne thus. Thou ſaiſt for thée, quod the King, that thy father gaue thee all that is vnder the earth and aboue the earth of the ſaid Trée. And to the ſecond brother hee bequethed all yt is in bredth, length, and déepnes, of that trée. And to the third brother hée gaue all yt is wette and dry. And with that hée layd ye law for them, & ſaide that the laſt will ought to ſtand. Now my déere ſonnes, briefely I ſhall ſatiſfie all your reaſons. And when hee had thus ſaid, hée turned him vnto the eldeſt brother, ſaying thus. My déere ſonne, if you liſt to abide the iudgment, of right it behoueth you to be letten bloud of the right arme. My Lord, quod hée, your will ſhall hée dene. Then called the king forth a diſcréet Phiſition, commaunding him to let him bloud. When the eldeſt ſonne was thus letten blood, the king ſaid to them all three. My déere ſonnes, quod hée, wher is your father buried. Then anſwered they and ſaid: Forſooth my Lord in ſuch a place. Anone the King commaunded to digge in the ground for the body, and to take a bonne out of his breſt, and to bury the body againe, & ſo it was done. And when the bonne was taken out, the king commaunded that it ſhould bee laied in the blood of the elder brother, and it ſhould lie till it had receiued kindly the blood, and then to bée laied in the Sunne and dried, and after that it ſhould bée waſht with cléere water, his ſeruants fulfilled all that hée commaunded. And when they beegan to waſh, the blood vaniſhed cleane away, When the king ſaw this, hée ſaid to the ſecond ſonne. It béehoueth that thou bee letten blood as thy brother is. Then ſaid hée. My Lord thy will ſhall be fullfiled, and a non hée was done vnto like as his brother was in all thing, & whē they began to waſh ye bone, the blood vaniſhed away. Then ſaid ye king to the third ſon. My déer child it behoueth thée alſo to bée letten blood. Hée anſwered & ſaide. My Lord it pleaſeth mée well ſo to bée. When the yongeſt brother was lettē blood, & done vnto in all thing like as his two bretherne were before, whē the kings ſeruaunts began to waſh the bone, they might neither for waſhing ne for fretting doe away ye blood of ye bone but euer it appeared bloody. When the king ſaw this he ſaide: It appeareth openly that this blood without doubt is of the nature of this bone, thou art his true ſon, & theſe other two ben baſtards I giue to thee the trée for euermore.

The Argument.

God ſo loued ſinfull man, that he ſent his onely begotten ſon to redeeme him out of the captiuitie of the wicked world, to reſt with him in the ioyes of heauen.

The third Hiſtorie.

IN Rome there dwelled ſome time a noble Emperour named Diocleſian, which aboue all worldly goods loued the vertue of charitie, wherfore he deſired greatly to knowe what fowle loued hir birds beſt, to the intent that he might thereby grow to more perfect charitie. It fortuned after vpon a day, that this Emperour walked to the foreſt to take his diſport, wher as he found the neaſt of a great bird (that is called in latin Struthio Camely, in Engliſh an Oiſtridge) with hir bird, ye which bird, the emperour toke we him, & cloſed him in a veſſel of glaſſe. The dam of this litle bird followed after vnto ye emperours place, and ſlew into the hall where hir birde was cloſed. But when ſhe ſawe hir bird, and might by no meanes come to hir, ne get her out, ſhee returned againe to the foreſt, & there ſhe abode three daies, and at the laſt ſhee returned againe to the Pallys, bearing in hir mouth a worme that is called Thumare. Whan ſhe came where hir birde was, ſhee let the worme fall vppon the glaſſe, thorough vertue of which worme, ye glalſſe brake, and the bird eſcaped, and ſlew foorth with his dam.

Whan the emperour ſaw this, he praiſed much the dam of the birde, which ſo diligently laboured for the deliueraunce of hir byrd.

The Argument.

¶ A cleane ſpirite and vndefiled ſoule, is the daughter of God ſo tender and deere vnto him, that he beſtoweth hir not vpon the rich man wanting the wiſdome of God, but vpon the poore manne that is wiſe and liueth in the feare of God, which if ſhe at any time tranſgreſle by frailtie of fleſh, than for the recouery of hir health by the medicine of amendement of lyſe, to ſuch a one though poore, ſhall his ſoule be not onely in this lyfe eſpouſed with much ſolace & ioye ech of other, but in the world to come ſhall liue with Chriſt in ioy and euerlaſting bliſſe.

The fourth Hiſtorie.

SOmetime dwelled in Rome a worthy Emperour and a wyſe, which had a fayre daughter and a gracious in the ſight of euery man. This emperour bee thought him on a daye to whome he might giue his daughter in marriage, ſaying thus. If I giue my daughter to a rich man, and he be a foole, then is ſhe loſt, and if I giue hir to a poore man and a wittie, than may he get his liuing for him and hir by his wiſedome.

There was that time dwelling in the citie of Rome a Philoſopher named Socrates, poore and wiſe, which came to the Emperour & ſayde. My Lord diſpleaſe you not though I put foorth my peticion before your highnes. Themperour ſayd, whatſoeuer it pleaſeth thee tell foorth. Then ſayd Socrates: My Lord ye haue a daughter whome I deſire aboue all thing. Themperour anſwered and ſaid. My friend, I ſhall giue thée my daughter to wife vpon this condicion, that if ſhe dye in thy feloſhip after that ſhe is wedded to thée, thou ſhalt without doubt léeſe thy head. Then ſaid Socrates. Upon this condition I will gladly take hir to bée my wife. Themperour hearing this, let call foorth all the Lords and ſtates of his Empyre, and made a great feaſt at their wedding. And after the feaſt Socrates led home his wife to his owne houſe, where as they liued in peace and health long time. But at the laſt this Emperours daughter ſickned to death, when Socrates perceiued this, hee ſaide to himſelfe. Alas and wo to mée, what ſhall I doe, and whether ſhall I flée, if the Emperours daughter that is my wife ſhould dye: and for ſorrow this Socrates went to a forreſt there béeſide and wept bitterly. The while he thus wept and mourned, there came an aged man bearing a ſtaffe in his hande, and aſked the cauſe of Socrates why he mourned. Socrates anſwered and ſayd. I wedded themperours daughter vpon this condition, that if ſhe died in my feloſhip, I ſhould leeſe my lyfe, now ſhee is ſickned vnto the death, & I c • n find no remedie nor help, and therefore I mourne more than any creature can thinke. Then ſaide the olde man, be of good comfort, for I ſhall help you if yee will doe after my counſell. In this forreſt be three herbes, if ye make a drink of the firſt to your wife, & of the other two a playſter, and if ſhe vſe this medicinall drincke and plaiſter in due time without doubt ſhe ſhall recouer to perfect health. Socrates fulfilled all as the olde man had taught him. And whā his wife had vſed a while that medicinall drinke and plaiſter, within ſhort tyme ſhe was perfectly whole of all hir ſickeneſſe And when the Emperour heard that Socrates wrought ſo wiſely, and how diligently he laboured for to heale his wife, he promoted him to great dignitie and worſhip.

The Argument.

¶ Many foliſh Idiots of this world doe commonly flow & flote in abundance of worldly wealth & pomp, with thinking they ſhall liue heere alwaies, are labored vnto by the preachers of gods word to be admoniſhed of their momentany felicities, and ſo to prepare themſelues in beſtowing well theyr ſhort time heere, to emoye the bleſſings of euerlaſting felicitie in the world to come.

The fift Hiſtory.

SOmetime there raigned in Rome a mightie Emperour and a wyſe, named Frederike, which had one onely ſonne, whome he loued much. This Emperour when hee laye at the point of death, hée called vnto him his ſonne, and ſayde. Déere ſonne, I haue a ball of Gold which I giue thée vpon my bleſſeing, yt thou anone after my death ſhalt giue it to the moſt foole that thou maieſt finde. Then ſaide his ſonne. My Lord without doubt your will ſhall bee fulfilled. Anone this young Lord after the death of his father, wēt & ſought in many Realmes & found many rechleſſe fooles, bicauſe hée would ſatiſfie his Fathers will, laboured farher til hee came into a realme where the law was ſuch, that euerie yeere a new King was choſen there, and this King had onely the guiding of that Realme but a yeere, and at the yéeres ende hée was depoſed and put in exile in an Ilande, where as hée ſhould wretchedly finiſh his life.

When the Emperours ſonne came to this Realme, the new King was choſen with great honour, and all maner of Muſical inſtrumēts went before him and brought him with great reuerence and worſhip vnto his regall ſea •• . And when the Emperours ſonne ſawe that hée came vnto him and ſaluted him reuerently and ſaid. My Lord, loe, I giue thee this ball of gold, on my fathers behal • e. Then ſaide hee, I praye thee tell mee the cauſe why thou giueſt mee this ball. Then anſwered this young Lord and ſaid. My father charged mee in his death bedde vpon paine of forfaiting of his bleſſeing, that I ſhould giue this ball to the moſt foole that I could find, wherfore I haue ſought many Realmes, and haue found many fooles, neuertheleſſe a more foole then thou art, found I neuer, & therefore this is the reaſon. It is not vnknown to thee yt thou ſhalt raign but a yeere, and at the yeeres end thou ſhalt bee exiled into ſuch a place where as thou ſhalt die a miſcheuous death, wherfore I hold thée for the moſt foole that euer I found, that for the Lordſhip of a yéere, thou wouldeſt ſo wilfully leeſe thy ſelfe, and therefore before all other, I haue giuē thee this ball of gold.

Then ſaide the king, without doubt thou ſaieſt truth, and therefore when I am in ful power of this realme, I ſhall ſend béefore mee great treaſure and riches wherewith I may liue & ſaue my ſelfe from miſcheuous death, when I ſhal bee exiled & put downe. And to this was done, wherfore at the yeeres ende, hee was exiled and iued there in peare, vpon ſuch goods as hee had ſent beefore, & hée died afterward a good death.

The Argument.

The euill diſpoſed whcked wiſe men of this world are heere aduertiſed of their greedie groping after the ſweet temptation of the diuel, wherein ſuch doe reioyce, till death comming ſodaynly vpon them, then fall they into the horrible pitte of deſolate darckeneſſe, due to their deſerts.

The ſixt Hiſtorie.

¶ Diocleſian reigned in ye citie of Rome in whoſe empire dwelt a noble Philoſopher, the which ſette vp by his craft an ymage in the middeſt of the Citie of Rome, the which ymage ſtrethed out his arme and his formoſt finger, whervppon ſtoode this poſie written in Latine, Percute hic. Strike heere. This ymage after the death of this Philoſopher ſtoode ſtill a long time, and many great clarkes came thether for to read the ſuperſcription that was on the finger, but none of them vnderſtoode what it ment, wherfore ther was great wondring among the people. And at the laſt a long time after there came a ſtrange clarke out of farre countries, and whē hée ſaw this ymage, he read ye ſcripture, ſtrike héere.

And then vpon a day whē he ſaw the ſhadow of ye hand, hee tooke a mattocke & brake vp the ground vnder the hand where the ſhadow was, according to the vnderſtanding of the ſuperſcription, and anone hée found an houſe all of Marble vnderneath the ground, wherin he entred and came into a hall, wherin hée found ſo much riches, ſo manie Jewells, and ſo great maruailes, that he neuer ſaw ne heard of ſuch, nor ſo many béefore that time. At the laſt hée ſaw a table redy couered, and all maner of things neceſſary therto ſet there vpon. Hee beheld further and ſaw a carbūcle in the hall yt lightened all ye houſe. And Againſt this Carbuncle on that other ſide ſtoode a man holding in his hand a bow with an arow ready to ſhoote. The clark maruailed much when he ſaw all theſe things, and thought in himſelfe, if that I tell this foorth, ther will no man beeleeue mee, and therefore I will haue ſomewat of theſe goodes in token of proofe. And with that hée law a knife of golde vpon the table, the which hoe tooke and would haue put it in his booſome. But anon the Archer ſmote the Carbuncle and brake it, where with the whole houſe was ſhadowed and made darke. And when the clarke perceiued it, he wept more bitterly then any man might thinke, for he know not by what way he might goe out, for as much as ye houſe was made darke through ye breaking of the carbuncle. And that darknes abode ſtill for euermore after. And ſo finiſhed the clarke his life there in that darkneſſe.

The Argument.

We are generally here put in mind that the diuell beſeeging ye world, our champion Chriſt Ieſus is ready to take our quarell in hand, who defending & ſauing vs from the inuaſion & circumuention of ſathan, is yet accuſed for vs as a tranſgreſſor, and is for our ſakes moreouer, content to ſuffer death for our full iuſtification.

The ſeuenth Hiſtory.

IN Rome dwelled ſometime a mightie Emperour named Titus, a wiſe man & a diſeréete, which ordained in his daies ſuch a law, that what knight dyed in his empire, ſhould be buried in his armour, and who ſo euer preſumed to ſpoile any knights armour after he were dead, he ſhould die without any withſtanding or gaine ſaying.

It befell after within fewe yéeres that a citie of the Empire was beſeged of themperours enemies, wherfore that Citie was in perill of leeſing, for none that was within that Citie might not defend themſelues by no maner of craft, therefore great ſorrow & lamentation was made through out all the Citie. But at the laſt within few dayes there came to the Citie a young Knight and a well fauored, valiaunt in feates of Armes, whome the worthy men of the Citie beholding, and vnderſtanding his proweſ • e, cryed with one voyce. O thou moſt noble Knight, wée beſéech thée if it pleaſe thy worthineſſe to help vs now at our moſt néede, lo ye may ſee this Citie is in perill of léeſing. Then anſwered he and ſayd. Seye not ſirs, that I haue none armour, and if I had Armour I would gladly defend your Citie. This hearing a mightie man of the citie ſayd to him in ſecrete wiſe.

Sir, héere was ſometime a doughtie knight which now is dead & buried with in this citie according to the law, & if it pleaſe you to take his armour ye might defend this citie & deliuer vs frō perill, and that ſhall bee honour vnto you and profit vnto all the Empyre.

When this young knight had heard this, he went to the graue and toke the armour and arayed himſelfe therwith, & ſought mightely againſte his enimies, and at the laſt he obtained and had the victory, and deliuered the citie from perill and whan he had ſo done, hée layd ye Art • our again • in the graue. There were ſome menne in the Citie that had great indignation and enuie at him, bycauſe he had obtained the victorie, and accuſed him to the Judge, ſaing thus Syr a law was made by themperour that w • o • o • uer •• ſpoiled a dead Knight of his Armour ſhould dye, this young Knight • ennd a • d ad Knight & tooke away his A • mour, therfore we beſeech thee that thou pr • ceede in the lawe againſt him, as againſt him yt hath offended the law. When the Juſtice heard this, hee made the Knight to bee takē and to be brought afore him. And whē hee was examined of this treſpaſſe againſt the law, hee ſaid thus. Sye it is written in the law, that of two harms the leaſt is to bée choſen, it is not vnknowen to you that this Citie was in perill to bee loſt, & but I had taken this armour, I had neither ſaued you ne the Citie, therefore me thinketh yee ought rather to honour & worſhip me for this good deede that I haue done, than thus ſhamefully to reproue me, for I am led as he that is ready to be hanged, and alſo good ſirs an other reaſon I may laye for mine excuſe. He that ſtealeth or robbeth violently, purpoſeth not to reſtore that thing that he robeth, but it is not thus with mée, for though I tooke the armour of the dead knight for your defence and ſauegard, when I had obtained the victory, I bare it againe to the ſame place, and ſo the dead knight hath that is his by the law. Then ſaide the Juſtice, a thefe that breaketh a houſe that he may ſteale and beare away ſuch as he may find, and though he bringe againe that he hath taken, I aſke of thée if that the breaking of the houſe be lawfull or not. The knight anſwered ſometyme the breaking of an Houſe may bée good, where as it is made in féeble place, which ſhould cauſe the Lorde of the houſe to make his wall ſtronger, that the théeues after that breake not the walls • o lightly in a •• o • ing of more harme.

Then ſaide the Juſtice, if the breaking of the houſe be good, neuertheleſſe in that breaking, violence is done to the Lorde of the houſe. And ſo though thou d • dd • ſt good with the Armour of the dead Knight, neuertheleſſe thou diddeſt wrong to the dead knight in taking away his armour. The knight ſayde, I haue told you that of two harmes the leaſt is to be choſen, and that harme wher through great goodnſſe commeth, ought not to be called harme, but it ſhould rather be called good. For if that any houſe within the citie were on fire and began to burne, it were more better to throw it to the ground and thrée or foure houſes thereby, thē they ſhould be ſet on fire alſo, whereby all the citie might be brente. Right ſo if the Armour of the dead knight had not beene taken, the citie and ye all had bene loſt. And when the Juſtice heard that he anſwered ſo well and ſo reaſonably, hée might giue no iudgment againſt him. But he yt which had accuſed this knight ſlew him, for whoſe death, there was great wéeping throughout all the citie, and his body was worſhipfully buried in a new tombe.

The Argument.

¶ The fornication of wicked worldly men is here detected by the prouidence of God, and by his gratious fauour deliuered out of the thraldom of ſinne vnto the libertie of life euerlaſting.

The Hiſtory.

THere raigned ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour & a wyſe named Betolde, which ordained a law that what woman were taken in aduoutry hir huſband beeing a liue, ſhée ſhould bee caſt into perpetuall priſon. There was that time a knight that had a fayre lady to his wife, which committed aduoutry hir huſband being a liue, and was with childe, therefore by the law ſhee was put in priſon, wher within ſhort tyme after ſhee was deliuered of a fayre ſonne. This childe grew vp till hée was ſeuen yeeres old, his mother dayly wept hartely. And when the child ha • d this hee ſaid to his mother. O mother why wéepe yée thus, and for what cauſe are you thus perplexed. Then ſaide his mother. O my ſwéete ſonne, I haue great cauſe to mourne, and thou alſo, for aboue our heads is people walking, and the ſunne ſhineth in cléerenes, and great ſolace haue all men that are aboue vs, and wee bée héere continually in ſuch darknes yt I may not ſée thée, ne thou me, alas yt euer I conceiued thee. Then ſayd the ſonne, ſuch ioye, ne ſuch light as yée ſpake of, ſawe I neuer, for I was borne here in this darknes, therfore if I had meate and drink ynough, heere would I liue all the dayes of my life, therefore mother weepe yée not, but ſhow mee ſolace. This lamentation that was betwéene the mother & the ſonne, heard▪ the Emperours Stewarde that ſtoode aboue their heads, wherof he had great compaſſion, and wept vnto the Emperour, and kneeling, beeſought him of his grace, that the mother & the ſonne might bee deliuered out of priſon. The Emperour as a mercifull Lord graunted that they ſhould bee deliuered. Neuertheleſſe if they treſpaſſed ſo in time to come, they ſhould bée puniſhed with double paine, and after that they were deliuered, this woman ended hir life in that Citie.

The Argument.

¶ Chriſt proclaimeth the ioyfull feaſt of heauen, wherin the Lambe, to ſay, the poore Preachers of the Goſpell, hauing their ſight or knowledge i • gods word, are ſuppo • ed of the blind lay •• , and ech doe mutu • lly comfort other, till they approch vnto the proclaymed feaſt of perpetual felicitie.

The Morall.

SOmetime in Rome dwelt an Emperour named Pompe • , which aboue all other things was mercifull. This Emrerour procliamed throughout all his Empire a great feaſt and that poore and rich ſhould come to this feaſt. And whoſoeuer came to that feaſt ſhould not onely bee well fed, but alſo hee ſhould haue great giftes. When the herawld had warned all maner of men to come to this feaſt, at that time there ware two poore men lying by the way, the one was lame, and the other was blinde, This blinde man ſayde to the lame man. Alas and wo to vs both, how ſhall wée doe, for themperour hath proclaimed a feaſt, and who ſo euer commeth there ſhall not onely bée well fedde, but alſo hee ſhall haue great guifts, and I am blinde, and thou arts lame, how ſhall wee doe. Then ſayde the lame man to ye blinde man, I ſhall tell thée counſell, if thou wilt doe after mée, thou ſhalt let for nothing. I am lame and feeble & may not goe, neuertheleſſe I may ſee, & thou art blinde and ſtrong, and maiſt not ſee, take thou mée vpon thy beack and beare mee, and I ſhall leade thee the right way, & thus ſhall wée both come to the Emperours feaſt. Then ſayde the blind, after thy counſell let vs doe, come on my back & I ſhall beare thee, and yu ſhalt lead • mee the right way, and ſo they did that they came both to the feaſt, & recuied great rewards and giftes among other men. And thus ended their liues in peace.

The Argument.

Heauen & hell are heere • ōpared to two cities, to the • e two cities are two contrary waies. To heauen (which is the city of all heauenly treasure & felicitie) is a narrow, cr • ked, craggy, and painfull way, hauing three enemies the d uell, the world, and the fleſh. To hell, (being the citie or cincke of ſorrow and ſadneſſe.) a • ay • e way, broad, plaine & eaſ • e, hauing three gu •• es, to wit, pride of life couetiſe of the eyen, concupiſcence of the fleſh.

The tenth Hiſtory.

SOmetime in Rome dwelt an Emperour named Folliculus, the which was right wiſe, mercifull & rightfull in all his works This Emperour builded in the Eaſt a noble Citie, wherein hée put all his treaſure and precious ſtones and riches to bee kept.

Unto this Citie the waie was ſtonie and full of brambles and ſharp thorns, and thrée knihgts were armed ready to fight with thē that would come to that Citie. Therefore themperour ordained yt whoſoeuer ouercame theſe knightes ſhould enter the Citie, & take at his wil of the emperours treaſure After that, this Emperour did make in the North weſt, a citie wherin he ordained all maner of paine, formēting, ſorrow & miſchiefe, for malefactors, to the which was a broad way, verte delectable, growing full of Roſes and ſayre L •• kes, and in that way were thrée knights, euer waiting if any man came towards ye citie of the north, to ſerue him with all maner of delicates and neceſſary prouiſion.

And if it fortuned any man to enter within that Citie, ye cuſtome was ſuch that the people ſhould take & binde him hand and foote, and caſt him in priſon, there to abide ye comming of ye Juſtice. When this was cryed through out all the Empyre, there were two Knights dwelling in a citie there beeſide one named Ionatas, who was a wiſe man, the other hight Pirrius, which was a foole, neuertheleſſe there had continued betwne them great loue. This Ionatas ſayde to Pyrrius. Déere friend there is a common crye made throughout al lāds, that the Emeperour hath made a Citie in the Eaſt wherein hee hath put all his treaſure, & who ſo euer may enter that citie, ſhall take of the treaſure that hée liſt, therefore my counſell is that wee goe to that Citie. Then ſayd Pyrryus thy counſell is good, and I deſire to fulfill it.

The wiſe Knight ſaide, if it bée ſo that thou wilt follow my counſell, I pray thée that faithfull friendſhip may continue beetwéene vs, and in token of loue, that thou wilt drinke my blood, and I ſhall drinke thine, that none of vs depart ne faile other in this iourney.

The fooliſh knight ſaide it pleaſeth mée right well all that yée ſaye, wherefore they were both letten blood, and eche of them dranke others blood.

When this was done, they went foorth together on theyr iourny, and when they had done thrée dayes iourneis toowardes the Citie where the treaſure was, they came to a place where was two wayes, one was ſharpe, ſtonie, & full of thornes, the other was plain and fayre and full of ſwéetneſſe and delites. Then ſayde the wiſe Knight to his fellow. Deere friend héere are two wayes, one ſharpe and thornie, neuertheleſſe if we go this way we ſhall come to this Citie that is ſo riche, and there ſhall we haue that we deſire.

Then ſaide the foliſh Knight to his felow. I wonder greatly of you that you ſpeake ſuch thinges, for I will rather beeleue mine eyes than your wordes, I ſee heere openly, and ſo doe yée, that here is a hard way and full of thornes, and as I haue heard ſaye, there bée three Champions armed in this waye: redy to fight againſt all men that goe that way towardes the Citie of the Eaſt, and therfore I will not goe that way, but here is (as ye may ſee) another way playne and eaſie to walk in, and in this wa • there are three knights readie to ſerue vs and giue vs all maner things neceſſary to vs, & therefore by this way will I goe, and not by that other way. Then ſayde the wiſe knight, certainely if we goe by that way, we ſhall be ledde into the Citie of the North, wherein there is no mercie, but perpetuall paine and ſorrow, and there ſhall we be taken and bound and caſt in priſon.

Certainely ſayde the fooliſh Knight, this way is the ready way, and as I beléeue it is more profitable then the other way. Then went they both foorth ye fayre way, and anone thrée knights met with them, which receiued them curteouſly for one night, and gaue them all maner of thing that was neceſſarie to them. And on the morow they tooke their tourney foorth towarde the Citie, And when they were within the Citie, anone ye Emperours officers met with them and ſaid: deere friends why come ye hether, in ſo much that ye know the law of this citie is ſo cruel of long time heere before, ſooth • y ye ſhal be ſe • u • d now after the law Anone they tooke ye wiſe knight and bound him and put him in priſon, and after that they tooke the fooliſh knight and bound him faſt and caſt him into a dich. Sone after it befel that the Juſtice came to the Citie to giue iudgment on them that had treſſpaſſed the law, and anone all the priſoners wer brought foorth before the iuſtice among whome theſe two knights wer brought foorth, one from priſon, & the other from the dich. Then ſaid the wiſe Knight to the Juſtice: Reuerend Lorde, I complaine of my fellow that is guiltie of my death, for when we two came to ye two wayes whereof the one ledde to the Citie in the Eaſt, and the other to this citie, I told him all the perill of this Citie, and the reward of that other Citie, and he would not beleeue mée, and ſaid to mée in this wiſe, I beléeue mine owne eyen better than thy words, and becauſe he was my fellow, I would not lette him goe alone in this way, and thus came I with him, wherefore hee is the cauſe of my death. Then ſaid ye fooliſh knight, I complaine that hée is the cauſe of my d • ath, for it is not vnknowen to you • ll that I am a foole, and h •• wiſe man, and therfore he ſhould not to •• ghtly haue folowed my folly, for if h • had forſaken this way, I ſhould haue followed him, and therfore he is cauſe of my death. Then ſaide the Juſtice to the wiſe knight, becauſe that thou with all thy wiſedome and great vnderſtanding ſo lightly contented and followed the wil of the foole and his fooliſh works, & thou foole becauſe that thou wouldeſt not do after the coun • aile ne fullfill the holeſom words of this wiſe man & beléeue him, I giue iudgmēt that ye be both hanged for your treſpaſſe. And ſo it was done, wherfore all men praiſed greatly the Juſtice for his diſcrete iudgment.

The Argument.

The ſoule of man beeing poſſeſſed in the princely territory of Paradyſe, was by the diuell prouoked to ſinne againſt hir creator, and for the ſame tranſgreſsion ſo beeing thence into this wide world exiled, loſt that hir former heritage: But by Chriſtes precious death and paſsion was reſtored vnto a more happie heritage of euerlaſting felicitie.

The 11. Hiſtory.

THERE dwelled ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour named Fredericke, which had no childrē ſaue one only daughter, to whom this Emperour after his deceaſe béequethed all his Empyre. This vnderſtanding an Earle yt dwelt there béeſide came vnto this young Lady & wooed hir, and prouoked hir to ſinne all that hée might, wherefore this young ladie in ſhort proceſſe of tyme enclyned to the Earle, and this Earle anone lay with hir and defiled hir, and after that ſhée departed from hir heritage, and exiled hir out of hir Empyre, wherefore ſhée made a great lamentation, and fled vnto a realme there beſide, where as ſhe dayly wéept and mourned. It befell after on a day yt while ſhe ſat mourning by the hye way ſide, there came riding by hir a fayre young knight vpon a good horſe, which came toward hir a great pace, and very courteouſly ſaluted hir & aſked ye cauſe why ſhe mourned ſo ſore. Then anſwered ſhe and ſaide.

My reuerend lord I am an Emperours daughter deſcended of roiall blood, my father is dead which left me all his Empyre, bicauſe he had none other heyre, and after his deceaſe an Earle there beſide deceiued me, deſlowred my virginitie, and after that he put me violently out of mine heritage, ſo that now I am fayne to begge my bread from dore to dore, and this is the cauſe of my ſorrow. Then ſayde the knight, farre damoſell I haue great compaſſion on thy beautie and on thy gentleneſſe, therfore if thou wilt graunt me one thing, I ſhall fight for thée againſt the Earle, & I proteſt vnto thée the purchaſe of the victory. Then ſayd ſhée, alas good ſir, I haue nothing that I may giue vnto you but my ſelfe. And I aſke no more of thee ſaid ye knight but yt thou wouldeſt be my wyfe and loue no man ſo much as mée. Then ſayde ſhe, Reuerend ſir, that I will doe gladly, and more if I might.

Then ſaid the knight I will that thou doe for mée one thing, that if it fortune mée to dye in fight for thée, and obtaine the victorie, thou ſhalt take my bloodie ſhert and hang it vpon a beame in thy chamber, and this ſhalt thou do for two things. The firſt is, that when ſo euer thou beholdeſt the ſhert, thou ſhalt wéep for mee. The ſecond is, that what ſo euer man come to woo • thee to be his wyfe, then ſhalt thou haſtely runne vnto thy chamber and béehould my bloodie ſhert, and thinke heartelye within thy ſelfe thus.

The Lord of this ſhert dyed for my loue in baftayle, the which recouered my heritage, God forbid that I ſhould take any other man after his death. Then ſaide ſhée. Reuerend ſir, all this ſhall I fulfill by the grace of God. And when the knight heard this, hee aſſaylled to fight againſt ye ſaid earle and obtained the victory, and the Earle was ouercome and fledde: and this yong lady was brought and receiued agayne into hir heritage.

Neuertheleſſe this knight was deadly wounded in that battayle, whereof hee died, but or hée died hée béequeathed his bloody ſhert vnto this damoſell, deſiring hir to keepe hir promiſe. Whē this yong Lady heard of his death, ſhée wept ſore, & made great lamentation for his death. And in his ſhert was cūningly wrought this verſe. Think on him and haue in minde: that to thee was ſo kinde. Anon when ſhe had receiued ye ſhert, ſhée hāged it vpon a beame in hir chamber, and as oftentimes as ſhe beheld it, ſhe wept bitterly It béefell not long after yt the ſtates of hir Empire came to hir & deſired hir to take a huſband. But then ſhe went to hir chamber & beeheld the bloody ſhert, then wared ſhée ſorofull & ſayd oftentunes, woe & alas thou ſufferedſt death for my loue, & thou alſo recoueredſt againe myne heritage, God forbid that I ſhould take any other man moe but thee. And thus ſhee anſwered euery man that came to hir, and ſo they went away diſapointed of their purpoſe, and ended hir life in peace and reſt.

The Argument.

¶ Wee are • eere generally aduertiſed of honorineg the Saboth day, how for the redeeming of time to bee occupied in Ghoſtly contemplation profitable to the ſoule and bodie. The preachers of Gods word oft times for ſayinge trueth purchaſe inconuenyence, if wee beeſtow our talents in the amplyfying of fayth and furdering one another with good workes. Wee ſhall then inheritie the • r • i • on of eternall bleſsing prepared for the elect of Chriſt Ieſus.

The 12. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime dwet in Rome a mightie emperour named Apolloninus which ordained for a law that eury man vpon paine of death ſhold celebrate the daie of his Natiuitie. This Emperour called to him a clarke that hight Virgill, and ſayde. My déere maſter, there bee many hamous offences done in my Empyre contrary to the law, therefore I pray thée that thou by thy cunning would make ſome crafte wherby I might know who treſpaſſeth againſt the law priuely or appertly.

Then ſaid Virgill. My reuerend Lord your will ſhall be done. Anone this Virgill through his craft made an Image, in the middeſt of the Citie of Rome, which denoūced & told the Emperours meſſengers who treſpaſſed againſt the law, & who not. There was that tyme dwelling in the Citie of Rome a ſmith yt hight Focus▪ which for nothing would celebrate the natiuitie of the emperour. It befell vpon a night as the ſmith lay in his bed, hee thought vpon the Image that had accuſed ſo many men beefore, and dread leaſt the Image would accuſe him, wherefore hee roſe and went to the ymage and ſaid. I make a vow to God, if thou accuſe mée, I ſhall breake thy head. And when hée had thus ſayde, hee went home. The Emperour on the morow after following ſent his meſſenger to that Image (as before times he was accuſtomed) to know & vnderſtand who had treſpaſſed againſt the lawe. And to them then ſaid the Image, lift vp your • yne & beehold what is ingrauen in my forhead. And then they looked vp and ſaw this poſie written. Tempore mutan • ur homines determinatur. Times bee chaunged & men bée worſe & worſe. For who will ſay the truth, ſhall haue his head broken, therfore goe yée foorth to your Lord and tell him all that yee haue reade and ſéene. The meſſengers went foorth and told the Emperour all that they had heard and ſeene.

Then ſayde the Emperour, arme your ſelfe and goe to the Image, and if that you finde any man that haue mencioned or threatned to hurt the Image, binde him hand and foote & bring him to mee. Then went ye meſſengers foorth to the Image and ſaid to it. Tel vs the truth if any man haue threatned thée, and we ſhall auenge thée anone. Then ſaid the Image. Take the ſmith Focus, for hée is the man that will not honour the natiuitie of the Emperour: ſtraight way the meſſengers led foorth the ſmith béefore the Emperour and there vpon examined him why he kept not ye day of the Emperours natiuitie in reuerence & honour according to ye law. Then anſwered ye ſmith & ſaid. Reuerend Lord I beſeech you that yee will heere mine excuſe and if I aunſwere not reaſonably to all maner of poyntes that yée will aſke mée, I will yeld mée fully to your grace. Then ſayd Themperour, I ſhall heare thée, and that is rightfull I ſhall doe. Then ſayd the ſmith, It behoueth mée to haue v • ii. d. euery day in the wéeke, & yt I cannot get without great labour, and therefore I may in no maner wiſe keepe that day holy day more than other dayes: Then ſayd the Emperour. Why behoueth it thee to haue theſe viii. d. Then ſaide the Smith, I am bounde to paye dayely ii. d. and ii. d. I lend, and ii d. I léeſe, and ii. d. I ſpend. Then ſayd the Emperour, tel mee more e • preſſely of theſe viii. d. Then ſayd the Smith. I am bound euery daye to pay ii. d. to my Father, for when I was young, my father ſpent on mée ii. d. dayly, and therefore am I bound to help him, and pay him againe his ii. d. for his ſuſtentation. Alſo ii. d. I léeſe on my wife. Then ſaid ye Emperour, why leſeſt thou that ii. d. on thy wife. Then ſayd • hée, where ſaw ye euer woman but ſhe had one of theſe points, eyther ſhee is wilfull, or contrary to hir huſbande, or of hotte complection, and therefore that I giue hir I léeſe. Alſo ii d. I lend to my ſonne, wherwith he is ſuſtained, that whan I come to age and pouertie, he may paye me againe ii. d. like as I doe my Father. Alſo I ſpend ii. d. on my ſelfe in meate and drincke, and that is little ynough. Then ſaid the Emperour, thou haſt anſwered well & wiſely. Not long after it befell that the Emperour dyed, and this Smith Focus was choſen to be Emperour, bicauſe he ſpent his viii. d ſo wiſely and ſo profitably and thus he ended his life in peace and reſt.

The Argument.

Man being blinde through ſin, & either by infirmitie of fraile fleſh, or ſuggeſtion, tr • ſpaſsing with euill and lewde company, though God of his mercie be fauorable vnto him in this life time by reaſon of the foreſaid reſpects, yet if he ac • uſtomably walke himſelfe in the dr • nck of this worldly wickednes, his wil • ul blindnesse ſhal not ther excuſe him but accuſe him in the day of iudgement moſt grieuouſly to haue offended God in abuſing his mercie offered, and therefore leaſt worthy to haue the reward of the ſimple ſoule, that repentantly, yea with modeſtie, lineth toward the fruition of euerlaſting bl • ſle.

The 13. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime in Rome dwelled a noble emperor which amō •• other vertues loued beſt m • t •• , wherefore he ordamed a law, that euery bline: man ſhould haue an hundred ſhillings by the yéere of his treaſure. It beſell •• a day that there came cer ••••• men to a Lauerne to drincke Wine, and after that theſe men had ſitten in the Cauerne thrée dayes, the ſourth day they were greatly in the tauerners debt, and had no mony to pay for theyr wine, wherefore the tauerner came to thē & charged them that they ſhould not voy • e till they had payed for their wine. Then ſaid one of the drinckers to his felowes. Syrs quod he, themperour hath made ſuch a law, that euery blinde man ſhall haue an hundred ſhillings of his treaſure, therefore let vs caſt lottes among vs, and to whom the lot falleth, let •• d eyes be put out, and ſo may he goe to the Emperours pallayes an • get •• an hundred ſhillings,

And this greatly reioyſed them, I ſaid that the 〈◊〉 was right good, wherfore they can lottes among them 〈◊〉 otte •• l on him that gaue the 〈◊〉 , and than his fellowes for • hwith put out his ey • l. And whan he was blinde, hée went to themperours pallayes,▪ aſked of th • ſteward an hundred ſhilings, according to the Emperours law.

Deere friend ſayde the ſteward, thou mighteſt ſee with both thine eyes yeſterday, & thou alſo vnderſtandeſt the law amis, for the law is made for men that are blinde through infirmities, or by the will of God, & yeſterday thou badſt thy ſight in the Tauerne, but wilfully thou haſt loſt thine enne, therefore go to the tauerne againe to thy felowes & diſcharge there that tho ••• weſ • , for heere getteſt thou not a • arthing. Then went this wretched man forth and told his ſelowes of the ſtewards anſwere, and with that came in the tauerner and diſpoyled them of all their clothes and b • t them, and thus droue them with ſhame out of the citie, and ſo were they neuer ſéene there after.

The Morall.

Déere friends this Emperour is ou • ſauiour Chriſt, which ordained for a law that euery blind man ſhould haue an hundred ſhillings of his treaſure. This blinde man betokeneth euery ſinner, which ſinneth through infirmities, or entiſing of the diuell, the world, and the fleſh, which ſhall receiue an hundred ſhillings, if he be inwardly repentant of his ſinnes, that is to ſaye, he ſhall haue an hundred times more ioye, according to ſcripture, ſaying thus. Centuplum accipi • e▪ & vitam eternam poſidebitis. Ye ſhall receiue an hūdred times more ioy, if ye be repentaunt and turne from ſin, and alſo ye ſhall haue euerlaſting life. Theſe men that came to the Lauerne to drinke wine, be ſinners, which often times come to the Tauerne of our aduerſary the diuell and drincke of his carnall appetites, that is to ſay, they there conſume and waſt away all ghoſtly vertues, which they receiued when they receiued the sacramēt of baptume, wherefore the diuell our enimie diſpoyleth them and maketh them to léeſe all their good déeds that euer thy wrought before they caſt lotts, that is to ſay, they caſt among them the cuſtome of ſinne, and this lot of ſinne falleth on ſuch as are worſhipfull and without mercie, & ſuch a man wilfully becommeth vlind, that is to ſay, he becommeth wilfully a foule ſinner like Iudas, that betraied our Lord without any ſuggeſtiō or entiſing, and therefore ſuch men ſinne more grienouſly when they come before the ſteward, that is to ſay, before the prelates of the church, they may not lightly obtain the ioyes of heauen, for why, they be not in the right way to leaue their ſinne. Therefore ſtudie wée with all our diligence, to pleaſe God, that we may obtaine euerlaſting life: which is layd vp in ſtore for all thoſe that liue modeſtly, looking for the eternall ſaluation. Unto the which bring vs our Lord Jeſus Chriſt.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶ A certaine Initiat vow of loue beeing made beetweene the ſoule of euerye faithfull chriſtian & the fayre daughter of Ieſus, eternall life, wee haue to conſider the mercifull & gracious couenant of God towards the faithfull and carefull of his couenant, & theyr owne vow was ſtudie to bee furniſhed with all diuine vertues, ſo as they are the prefixed daye of promiſe vndeſiled, which ſhall then wiſely purchaſe the prouided place of euerlaſting glory for all them that ſeeke the glory of God and their ſoules health.

The 14. Hiſtorie.

IN Rome dwelled ſome 〈…〉 mightie emperour named 〈…〉 mius, which had onely a daug 〈…〉 a damoſell, fayre and gracious in the ſight of euery man, which had to name Aglaes. There was alſo in themperours pallayes a gentle knight that loued this lady aboue all thing in the world. It béefell after vpon a daye that this knight talked with this lady & vttred in ſecrete w •• e his diſire to hir. Then ſayd ſhée courteouſly, ſith • ée haue v • tred to mee the pri •• ty of your heart, I ſhall in like wiſe for your loue vtter to you the ſecretes of mine heart, and truely I ſay that aboue all other I loue you beſt.

Then ſaide the knight. I purpoſe to viſit the holy Land, and therefore giue mee your trouth, yt this ſeauen yeere yee ſhall take no other man, but onely for my loue to • arry for mée ſo long, & if I come not againe by this day vn. • eere, 〈…〉 ke then what man yée lyke beſt. And 〈…〉 e wiſe I ſhall promiſe you yt with 〈…〉 ſeuen yeere I ſhal take no wife. 〈…〉 ſaid ſhe, this couenāt pleaſeth mée 〈…〉 When this was ſaid, eche of them 〈…〉 othed other, and then this knight 〈…〉 ke his leaue of this Lady and went foorth to the holy land. Anone after that the Emperour treated with the king of Hungary for the mariage for his daughter. Then came the king of Hungary to the Emperours pallays to ſée his daughter, and when hee had ſeene hir, he liked maruaclouſly wel hir beautie and hir goodneſſe, ſo that the Emperour and the King were accorded in all things as touching the marriage, vpon the condicion that the damoſell would conſent. Then called ye Emperour t 〈…〉 young Lady to hin and ſaid. O my fay 〈…〉 daughter, I haue prouided for thée t 〈…〉 a King ſhall hee thy huſband, if thée 〈…〉 ſo aſſent, therefore tell mée what 〈…〉 ſwere thou wilt giue to this.

Then ſayde ſhee to hir father, it 〈…〉 ſeth mée well, but of one thing dee 〈…〉 ther I you beſeech, i • it might plea 〈…〉 to graunt mée for the loue of 〈…〉 haue auowed my chaſtitie onely 〈…〉 for this vii. yeere, therefore déere 〈…〉 I beeſeech you for all ye loue that 〈…〉 tweene your gracious fatherhoo 〈…〉 mee, that yee name no man to bée m 〈…〉 band till theſe vii. yéere bée ended, & 〈…〉 I ſhall bee ready in all things to full 〈…〉 your will. Then ſayde the Emperour, ſith it is ſo that thou wilt no huſbande haue this ſeuen yeere, I will not breake thy vow, but when theſe ſeuen yeeres beene paſſed, thou ſhalt haue the king of Hungary to thy huſband:

And then themeperour ſent foorth his letters to ye king of Hūgary, praying him if it might pleaſe him to abide vii. yéere for the loue of his daughter, and then • hould hee ſpéede of his intent without 〈…〉 yle. Heereof the King was pleaſed, 〈…〉 d graunted to abide ye promiſed day. 〈…〉 when theſe vii. yéeres were ended 〈…〉 a day, ye yong Ladie ſtoode in hir 〈…〉 er mindow and wept ſore, ſay 〈…〉 us. Woe and alas, as to morow 〈…〉 e promiſed to bee with me againe 〈…〉 e holy lande, and alſo the King of 〈…〉 ary to morow will be héere for to 〈…〉 mée, according to my fathers 〈…〉 , and if my loue come not at a 〈…〉 e houre, then am I vtterly de 〈…〉 of the inward loue of him.

〈…〉 en the day came the king arayed 〈…〉 towardes the Emperour with a 〈…〉 at company to marry his daughter, and was royally bee ſeene and arayed in purple. And while the king was ryding on his way, there came a knight ſo • ainly riding by him, to whome hee ſayde thus.

Déere friend whence art thou, and whence commeſt thou. The knight anſwered and ſayd, I am of thempyre of Rome, and now am come late from the holy land and am ready to doe your ſeruice ſuch as I can. And as they rode talking by the way, it béegan to rayne ſo faſt, that all the kings apparell was almoſt ſpoyled. Then ſaide the knight. My lord, quod hée, yée haue done fooliſhly, for as much as yée brought not with you your houſe. Then ſayd the king why ſpeakeſt thou ſo, my houſe is large and broad & made of ſtones & morter, how ſhould I then beare with mée my houſe, thou ſpeakeſt to mée like a foole. When this was laid they rod farther till they came to a great water and a déepe, the king ſmote his horſe with his ſpurres and leapt into the water, ſo that hée was almoſt drowned. Then the knight ſaw this, & was ouer on that other ſide of the water without perill, hee ſayd to the king. Yée were in perill, and therefore yee did fooliſhly bicauſe yée brought not with you your bridge. Then ſaide the king, thou ſpeakeſt meruaylouſly, my bridge is made of lime & ſtone, and containeth in quantity more then halfe a myle, how ſhould I then beare with mee my bridge, therefore thou ſpeakeſt fooliſhly. Well ſaid the knight my fooliſhneſſe may turne thée to wiſdome.

When the king had ridden a little farther, he aſked the knght what time of daye it was. Then ſayde the knight if any man haue liſt to eate, it is tyme of the day to eat, and therfore my reuerēt Lord I pray you to take a modicome with mée, for that is no diſworſhippe to you but great honour to mee before the ſtates of this Empyre. Then ſayde the king, I will gladly eate with thee, They ſate both downe in a vyne garden, and all that were with the King and with the knight dined. And when dinner was done, and that the king had waſhen, the knight ſaide to the King. My Lord quod hée, yee haue done fooliſhly, for yt yee lead not with you your father and your mother. Then ſaide the king, what ſaieſt thou, my father is dead, and my mother is olde, and may not trauaile, how ſhould I then bringe them with mee, therefore to thee I ſay the truth, a foliſher man then thou art ſaw I neuer. Then ſaid the Knight, euery worke is praiſed at the ende. When the Knight had ridden a little farther and was • y hand to themperours pallaies, ye Knight aſked ſeaue to goe from him, for this cauſe, hee knew a neerer way to the palays to the young Lady that he might come firſt and leade hir with him. Then ſaid the king, I pray thée ſir tell me by what place purpoſeſt thou to ride. Then ſaid ye Knight I ſhall tell you truth, this day ſeuen yeere I left a net in a place, and now I purpose to viſit it and draw it to mee, & if it bée broken I will leaue it, and if it be whole then will I take it to me, and keepe it as a precious Jewell, and when he had ſayd what him liſt, he toke his leaue of the king and redde foorth, and the King kept the broad high way.

When themperour heard of ye Kings comming, he went towards him with a great company, & royally receiued him, cauſing him to ſhift his wet clothes and attyre him againe with new clothes. And when the Emperour and the king were ſet to meat, the Emperour welcomm • d him with all the chéere & ſolace that hée could. And when they had dined themperour aſked tidings of the King. My Lord ſaid hée, I ſhall tell you what I heard this day by the way.

There came a knight to mée and reuerently ſaluted mee, and anone after there came a great raigne, which greatly ſpoiled my apparell, & anone ye knight ſaide, ſir thou haſt done fooliſhly, for ſo much as thou broughtſt not wt thee thy houſe. Then ſaid themperour, what clothing had ye knight on him. A cloake qd the king. Thē ſaid themperour, forſooth that was a wiſe man, for ye houſe wherof hée ſpake was a cloake, & therefore hée ſaide to you that yée did fooliſhly becauſe yée came without your cloake, for if you had brought with you acloake, then had not your clothes ben ſpoiled with raine. Then ſaide the king, when wee had riden a little farther, we came to a déepe water, I ſmote my horſe with my ſpurres and almoſt I was drowned, and hée 〈◊〉 on the other •• de of the water and found no peril, and then ſaid he to mée, ye haue done foliſhly, for ſo much that ye ledde not with you your bridge. Forſoth, ſaid themperour he ſayd truth, for he called the bridge your • quires, that ſhould haue ridden before you and aſſayde the déepenes of the water. Then ſaid the king, we rode farther, & at the laſt he prayed me to dine with him, and when we had dined he ſaide, I did vnwiſely, for I ledde not with mée my father and my mother. Sothly ſaide the Emperour he was a wiſe man and ſaid trouth, for he called your father & mother bread and wine, and other vitailes. Then ſaid the king we rode farther and anone after he aſked mée leaue to goe from mée, and I aſked diligently whether he went. And he anſwered agayne and ſayde. This day vii. yéere I left a Nette in a priuie place, and now I will ryde to viſit it, and if it bee broken or torne, than will I leaue it, and if it bée whole as I left it, then ſhall it bée to mée right precious, and I ſhall beare it with mée. Whan themperour heard this he cryed with a lowde voice and ſaid. O ye my knights and my ſeruaunts come ye with mée ſpedily vnto my daughters chamber, for ſothly that is the nette whereof the knight ſpake. And anone his knights and his ſeruāts went vnto his daughters chamber and found hir not, the ſoreſayde knight had taken hir with him. And thus the knig was deceiued of the damoſell. And hée went home againe to his owne country aſhamed.

The Argument.

¶By this hiſtory is figured as apeareth in the morall, the ſoule of euery good chriſtian to him holden as his daughter. But beeing ſeduced, caryed away, and defiled by ſathan our fowle enimy, ſhe is reduced by the helpe and valiant prowes of our heauenly champion Chriſt Ieſus vnto his former habitation. Yet man being vngrateful to his Redeemer forgetteth his dutie, and for good, rewarding euill to his champion Chriſt Ieſus deliuering him to be iudged by the law as an offender, but when the champion auoucheth what he hath done for man & his ſoule, than is he with ſhame of his ingratitude conſtrained to haue remorſe & call for grace to repent & amend his life by the death & paſsion of this champion Chriſt poſſeſſeth lyfe of euerlaſting ioy and bliſſe.

The 15. Hiſtory.

SOmetime dwelled in Rome a noble Emperour named Agias, which had retaining vnto him a Knight called Gerard, which was a worthy warrior, neuertheleſſe he was as méeke as a Lambe in the Emperours courte, but in the field he was like a Lion.

This Emperour had a faire daughter, whome the ſtrong and mightie Earle of Paleſter carryed perforce away and defiled, neuertheleſſe it diſpleaſed more themperour the defiling of his daughter than the carrying of hir away, wherefore he called vnto him his counſayle and ſayde. Déere friends it is not vnknowen to you the deſpite and violence done to mée in deflowring of my daughter, and therefore I purpoſe to giue battaile to the Earle, wherefore I pray you to be ready at a day, that ye may procéede with me in battaile. And they ſayde, Lord we be readie to liue and dye with you in battaile.

When the apointed day of battaile came, they met on both ſides, and a cruell ſharp conflict was proſecuted on both ſides, and all that were of themperours part were ſlaine. And as themperour himſelfe ſhould haue bene ſorceably aſſayled, the knight Gerard put himſelfe among his enimies before themperour, and fought manfully, and ſo Themperour eſcaped, and the knight aboad and ſlew the earle, neuertheleſſe this knight had diuers wounds. This notwithſtā ding he aboad ſtill till ye blood ran downe to his foote.

And when his enimies ſaw that the Earle was ſlaine, they fledde, and the Knight with his people •••• owed on the 〈…〉 till hée came to the place where themperours daughter was, and •• dde h • r with him. And thus with triumph and victory he ••• urned again • to themperour. For ••• which victory and reobtaining of themperours daughter he was greatly pea ••• d of all people.

Not long after it befel that this knight had a ſu • e to moue themperours court, wherefore the knight came vnto themperour & prayed him méekely to be fauorable in his cauſe, and furthermore he prayed him to doe the reaſon touching his honeſt demaund.

When Themperour had heard him, he called to him a Juſtice and ſayd. • ir Juſtice our will is, that you performe all equitie vnto this knight, and that that the Law will. And whē the knight heard this, he cryed with a lowd voice. Alas, alas, who heard euer ſuch a thing of an Emperour, thou wert, ſaid hee in battaile, where thy head ſhould haue béene ſmitten off, and I in myne owne perſon and none other man, put my ſelfe in ieopardy for thée, and ſaued thée, and now thou haſt aſſigned an other man to bee Judge in my cauſe, alas that euer thou wert borne. And with that word the knight put of all his clothes & ſheweh his wounds that hée had receiued in the batt ••• e, vnto all the men yt were there preſent, and ſayde. Lo • , what I haue ſuffered for thee, Oh Emperour, and I put none other man in my ſt • de, and now thou aſſigneſt an other man in my cauſe. For ſooth I ſay to thée, that I neuer ſerued ſuch a Lord béefore.

When the Emperour heard this, being almoſt confounded in himſelfe, ſaid thus. O Déere friend all that thou ſayeſt is trouth, thou ſauedſt mée from death, thou diddeſt reobtaine my daughter againe, and for my ſake thou haſt ſuffered many wounds. For ſooth it is right that I in my owne perſon come downe and make an end of thy cauſe, ſuch as may bee honour and ioye to thée.

And when themperour labored buſily in this matter, and made thereof an ende according to the knights entente, wherefore all men greatly commended the Emperour,

The Argument.

The ſoule of man is heere warned to eſchew the pleaſant baites and ſubtill craft of the diuell, that ſhee yeeld not to his allutments, leaſt ſhee bee ouercome of him, and hee get the vantage of this mortall courſe from hir, and bereue hir of the ioyes in the lyfe to come.

The 16. Hiſtory.

THere dwelt ſomtimes in Rome a witty emperour namid Pompey, which had a fayre daughter called Aglas. This daughter had many vertues aboue all other women of that Empyre.

Firſt, ſhee was faire and gracious in the ſight of euery man. She was alſo ſwift in running, that no man might ouertake hir by a great ſpace. When Themperour vnderſtood theſe two vertues in his daughter, hée was right ioyfull, wherefore hée made to proclaime throughout all his Empyre, that what man poore or riche would runne with his daughter ſhould haue hir to wyfe with great riches, if hée might ouerrunne hir and come ſooner to the marke then ſhée, and if ſhée ouer runne him and come ſooner to the marke then hée, his heade ſhould bée ſmitten off.

When the ſtates of that Empyre, as Dukes, Earles, Barrons and knights heard this crye, they offered themſelues one after an other to runne with hir, but euer this young Lady ouer-ranne them all, wherfore they loſt their heads according to the law. That time there was a poore man dwelling in Rome, which thought within himſelfe I am a poore man and come of poore kinred, there is made a common crie, that what man ſo euer might ouerrunne the Emperours daughter by any wiſe, ſhould be promoted to great honour and richeſſe, therefore if I might ouercome hir by any maner waie, I ſhould not onley bée promoted to great honour but alſo all my kinred. This poore man prouided himſelfe of thrée Jewells, whereby hee might winne hir. Firſt he made a garland of red roſes and of white.

Secondly, he made a faire girdle of ſilke runningly wrought. Thirdly hée made a purſſe of ſilke imbroder • d with precious ſtones, and within the purſſe was a ball of thrée coulours, and vppon this purſſe was wrought this poſey. Who playeth with mee, ſhall neuer bee wery of my playe.

Then put hée theſe thrée things in his boſome, and went foorth to the pallayes gate crying and ſaying. Come foorth fayre Lady come foorth, for I am redy to runne with you and fulfill the lawe in all things.

When themperour heard this, hée commaunded his daughter to runne with him. This yong lady went to hir chamber window, and when ſhe ſaw him, ſhée deſpiſed him and ſayd. I haue ouercome many worthy knights, and now muſt I runne with a chorle, neuertheleſſe I ſhall fulfil my fathers cōmaundement.

Anone the damoſell arayed hir for to runne with him. And at the laſt they ranne together, and within ſhort ſpace the damoſell went farre afore him.

When this Jugler ſaw this, hée threw foorth ye garland of flowers béefore hir. And when the damoſell beheld and ſaw that, ſhée ſtouped downe and tooke it vp▪ and ſet it vpon hir head, and that while the Jugler went afore hir. And when this yong damoſell ſaw this, ſhee wept ſore, and for ſorow ſhee threw the garland in a ditch and ranne after him diligently, & at the laſt ſhée ouertooke him, and lift vp hir right hand and gaue him a buffet, ſaying to him thus: Abide thou wretch, it beeſéemeth not thy fathers ſonne to haue mée to his wife. And this young Lady went béefore him a great ſpace. And when the Jugler ſaw this, hée toke ont ye girdle of his boſome and threw it beefore hir. And when ſhée ſaw that, lightly ſhée ſtouped downe & toke it vp, and anone gyrde hir therewith, and then the Jugler went againe béefore hir.

And when ſhe ſaw that, ſhe made great lamentation, and tooke the girdle with hir téeth & tare it in thrée péeces, and then threw it from hir, and then ſhee ranne faſt after him & at the laſt ouer tooke him, and then ſhee toke vp hir hand & gaue him a great blow, ſaying theſe words. O wretch, thinkeſt thou to ouercome mée, and with that ſhée ranne béefore him a great ſpeace. The Jugler • as ſlye and ſub •• il, and aboad till that ſhée was almoſt at the marke, and then hee threw forth beefore hir the Purſſe, and when ſhee ſaw this Purſſe, anone ſhee ſtouped downe and tooke it vp, and opened it, and found the ball, and red the poſey, Who playeth with mee, ſhall neuer bee weary of my play. And then began ſhe to playe, and ſo long ſhe continued in playing till that the Jugler was before hir at the marke. And thus he wanne thmperours daughter.

The Morall

Déere friends this Emperour is our ſauiour Chriſt, and his fayre daughter is mans Soule, which was made cleane with the water of regneration or baptiſme, and was alſo ſwift in running, that is to ſaye, in vertue, while that ſhe is in cleanneſſe, ſo that no deadly ſinne might ouercome hir.

This Jugler that is of ſo ſubtill and craftie liuing is the diuell, the which ſtudieth day and night to deceiue innocents.

Hée prouideth him of thrée thinges: Firſt, of the garland which betokeneth pryde by this reaſon, for why a garland of flowers is not ſet vpon the arme nor vpon the foote, but vpon the head, that it may bée ſéene. Right ſo pride would be ſeene: againſt proude men ſpeaketh ſainct Auguſtine, ſaying thus.

Quemcun que ſuperbum videris, filium diaboli dici non dubites. That is to ſaye, what proude man that thou maiſt ſée, doubt yée not to call him the ſonne of the diuell.

Do thou therefore as the maiden did, bewayle thy ſinnes and take of the garland of pryde and caſt it in the ditch of heartie repentaunce, and ſo ſhalt thou giue the diuell a great buffet and ouercome him.

But when this Jugler, that is to ſay, our ghoſtly enimie, the diuell ſéeth himſelfe ouercome in one ſinne, than he returneth & tempteth a man in an other ſinne, and caſteth before man the girdle of lechery.

But alas there be very many gyrd with the gyrdel of lechery, of the which gyrdle ſpeaketh ſaint Gregory ſaying thus. Gyrde we our loynes with the gyrdle of chaſlitie, for who ſo euer is gyrt with this gyrdle ſhall not leeſe the courſe of lyfe.

Then caſteth the Jugler foorth (that is to ſay, the diuell) the purſſe with the ball. The purſſe that is open aboue and cloſe vnder, betokeneth the hart, which euermore ſhould be cloſe in the bottome againſt earthly things, & open aboue to heauenly ioy, & the two ſtrings that openeth and ſhitteth the purſſe, betokeneth the loue of God & of our neighbours. The bal which is round & moueable to euery part of his difference, betokeneth couetiſe, which moueth euer both in yong and in olde, and therfore ye poſey was good & true yt was wrought on the purſſe, Who ſo playeth wt mée, yt is to ſay, with couetouſneſſe ſhal neuer be ſatiſfied. Therfore ſaith Seneca: Cum omnia pectam ſeneſcunt, ſola cupiditas iuueneſcit. When that all ſinne was olde, than couetiſe all onely waxeth young. Therfore let vs take héed that wée play not with this ball of couetouſnes, & thā without doubt wée ſhal obtaine & gaine the game with the tennes Ball in the bliſſe of heauen yt neuer ſhall haue ende. Unto the which bliſſe bring vs hee that ſhed his precious blood for vs.

Amen.

The Argument.

The preaching of Gods word euery good prayer & practiſe as it is a ſoūding melody in the eares of God, and hath a tyme of felicitie for the delectation of mans minde, yet there is now and than ſtirred vppe ſome one or other ſiniſter meanes, by ſathā our whiſtling aduerſary that the ſame is hindred for a tyme tyll the prouidence of God ſend forth godly preachers which with the hooke of gods word do win againe the loſt felicitie, & ſo recouer the fall of ſuch ſoules as were ſeduced into the perpetuall feloſhip or angells in heauen.

The 17 Hiſtorie.

SOmtime in Rome dwelled a mightie Emperour and a wiſe, named Theodoſius, which aboue all other thinge hée loued beſt two thinges, namely, the Muſicke vpon the Harpe, and paſt •• e of hunting. It befell after vpon a day as this Emperour hunted in a foreſt, he heard ſo ſwéete a noyſe of harp sthat through the ſwéetnes therof he was almoſt rauiſhed of his witts, wherefore he ſought about the foreſt to ſinde that melody, and at the laſt he eſpyed at the ende of the forreſt a poore man ſitting beſide a water playing on a harpe ſo ſwéetly, that themperour before that day heard neuer ſo ſwéete a melody. Then ſaide themperour, good friend, procéedeth this melody from thy harpe or no. The poore man anſwered & ſayd. My reuerend Lord I ſhal tell you the trouth. Beſide this water my wife and my childe and I haue dwelled. xxx. yéere, & God hath giuen me ſuch grace, that when ſo euer I touch my harpe, I make ſo ſwéete melody, that the fiſhes of this water come out to my hand and ſo I take them, where with my wife, my childe, and I be ſuſtained dayly in great plenty. But al • s & welaway, on the other ſide of this water there commeth a whiſtler & whiſteleth ſo ſweetly that many times the fiſhes forſake mée and goe to his whiſtling, and therefore my reuerend Lord I beſech you of help againſt his hiſſing & whiſteling. Then ſaid themperour, I ſhall giue thée good help & coū ſaile, I haue héere in my purſſe a golden hooke which I will giue thée, take thou it & binde it faſt at the ende of a rod, & with ſome worme for the bait vpon the hooke, then caſt thy rod into the water forthwith, & ply thy play vpon thy harp, and when thou perceiueſt the fiſh to byte on the baite, draw them vp to the lande with that hooke, & then his whiſteling ne hiſſing ſhall not auaile. When the poore man heard this, he reioyſed him greatly, and did all thing as hée had taught him. And whē this poore man began to touch his harpe the fiſhes came to the bayte & than he tooke them vp with his hooke, & liued there by in better eſtate long time, and at the laſt ended gratiouſiy his life in peace and reſt.

The Argument.

¶ Mans ſoule the daughter of our Sauiuiour is ſo deere vnto him, that he being careful for the conuerſation of hir in ſtate of ſincere li • e, is yet ſeduced by the ſugeſtion of the fleſh, which beeing a greeuous tranſgreſſor, is by earneſt repentance and amendemēt of life enforced to b • ing the ſaid ſoule againe vnto dutifull obedience towards God & man, that thence forwards cō tinuing, ſhe may attayn vnto the • o • es of euerlaſting bliſledneſſe. &c.

The 18. Hiſtorie.

THere dwelled ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour and a wiſe, named Polemus, which had no childe ſaue onely a daughter, whom he loued ſo much, that daye and night hée ordayned to haue hir garded with armed knights. And aboue theſe knightes he ordayned a comptroller well erperienced in euery thing for to teach and inſtruct them how they ſhould doe. Hée ordayned alſo a ſteward for to guide his houſehold. And when all this was done, on a night as hée lay in his bed hée béethought him that hée would goe viſit the holy land. And then when all thing was ready for his iourney according to his purpoſe, hée called vnto him his ſteward and ſayd. My truſty ſeruant I purpoſe now to goe ſee the holy land, and therfore I leaue my daughter in thy kéeping, & alſo I charge thée yt ſhe lack nothing, but that ſhee haue all maner of ioye and gladneſſe that pertaineth to a virgin. Secondly, I leaue in thy kéeping fiue knights that beene hir kéepers, and charge thée yt they lack nothing which to them beehoueth.

Alſo I leaue to thée my greyhound commaunding that thou nouriſh and féede him as it appertaineth, and if thou fulfill all this that I haue ſayd, yu ſhalt at my comming againe receiue a great reward. Thē ſaid ye ſteward, my dere Lord in all yt I may I ſhall fulfill your will. When this was ſaid ye emperour, tooke his iourney toward ye citie of Ieruſalem and the ſteward a long time kept well and truely themeperours ordināce, and charge enioyned him. But at the laſt it befell vpon a day that this ſteward had eſpyed this yong Lady walking alone in an Orcheyard with whoſe loue hee was ſodainly ſurpriſed, wherfore ſtraitway againſt hir will hée deſ • oured hir.

And when he had committed ſinne with 〈◊〉 , hee gaue hir • ll language and hated hir▪ more after th • n euer hee loued hir 〈…〉 , and dr 〈…〉 hir out of ye pallais, wherfore this da 〈…〉 by this meanes being driuen to 〈…〉 and great po 〈…〉 , went from dore to dore & begged hir bread. But when the knightes that were hir kepers heard of this, they re • or • ed ſhamefully ye ſteward of that ſinfull deede. Then the ſteward waxed wroth, and for great hate that he had in his hart, he diſpoiled ye h • ights of their goods, & droue them fro ye pallayes. And when they were thus robbed & exiled, ſome for lack of liuings became theeues, and ſome mankillers, which through this inconuenience they wrought great harme.

Soone after this, ther came tidings that themperour was arriued in far lands comming homeward. And when the ſteward heard this, hée was greatly troubled and moued in himſelfe, and thus thinking in himſelfe, hée ſaid thus. This may not bée but néedes I ſhall bée accuſed for my treaſpaſſe yt I haue committed againſt themperours cōmandemēt, hée is my God and mercifull Lord, therfore better it were that I goe & méete him with all honour and humilitie, and accuſe my ſelfe to him, & aſke him mercie, then any other ſhould preuent mée & accuſe mée to my Lord of my treaſon. Then the Steward ſtreight put of all his clothes ſaue his hoſen and his ſhert, and tooke three ropes with him in his right hand, and bare foote went and met the Emperour. But when themperour had eſpied him comming a far of in ſuch maner, hee wondred greatly. And when the ſteward was come ſo néere that hee might ſpeake to the Emperour, hée fell downe on his knees and ſaluted him reuerently. Then ſaid ye Emperour, what is beefalne thee that thou m • eteſt mée after ſuch a ſort, for ſo much as thou art my ſteward, thou ſhouldeſt haue mette mée with a great company of knights. A my Lord, quod hée, there is beefallen mée an heauie caſe, for the which it béehoueth mee thus to méete your highnes. Then ſaid the Emperour, what caſe is that, that is béefallen thee. My reuerend Lord, quod hée, it be houeth firſt your 〈…〉 neſſe to aſke of mee why I bring with mee theſe three ropes. Then ſayd themperour, why beareſt yu theſe thrée ropes in thy hand. Then anſwered this wofull ſteward and ſaid. This firſt corde I bring with mée to binde my hands and féete ſo hard, till ye blood braſt out on euery ſide, for that I haue well deſerued▪ The ſecond rope I bring with mée to draw mee by a horſe tayle vppon the pauement, till that ye bones bee bare without fleſh, for yu ſhall bée due to mée for the great treaſon I haue done againſt you. The third rope that I haue brought is to hang mee with, vppon an high galous, ſo long that the byrds light on my head, and on my body, and feede them ſelues of my fleſh, and theſe things are due to ſuch treſpaſſers and breakers of the lawe as I am, and therefore my reuerend Lord haue mercy on mée, for I dare not knowledge my treſpaſſe till I bee certaine of thy mercy and pittie. Thē ſaid themperour, I ſée in thée great méekneſſe and contrition, therefore tell foorth thy treaſpaſſe, ſoothly thou ſhalt finde mercy and grace. Alas, alas, then ſaide hee, I haue defiled thy daughter, and driuen hir out of thy pallais, and now in extreame neceſſitie ſhee beggeth hir bread from dore to dore. I haue alſo diſpoiled thy knights of all their goods, and now ſome of them by meanes they lack liuings beecome théeues and robbers, & ſome mankillers, and the comptrowler of the knights I haue ſlayne. But I haue fedde thy graihound with the beſt meate as long as I might, and tied him with a chayne, but at the laſt hée brake his chaine & went his way, ſo that now hee runneth about in the country.

When the Emperour heard this, hée was ſore aſtonied and ſaid. Haſt thou de • loured my daughter whome I loued ſo well, and alſo exiled my knights, and ſlaine their comptrowler, and the greyhound which I loued beſt, of whome I gaue thée charge is gone alſo, certes were it not that I had forgiuen it thée, and that thou humble thy ſelfe ſo greatly, I ſhould put thée to the moſt vileſt death that could bee thought. Therfore depart hence foorthwith and bring againe my daughter, then mayſt thou marry with hir, & if any harme heereafter beefall to •• r in thy default, then ſhall I double thy puniſhment. Alſo bring thou againe my knights, and reſtore to them their goods, and let them in their ſtate and office as they were before. And also ſeeke dilig • tly my greyhound till thou ſinde him & then make him t • ſt, ſo that in ſhee heereafter may bee ſound no default. And when the ſteward heard this, hee bowed with moſt humble ſubmiſſion downe his head and thanked the Emperour of his great 〈…〉 .

And then hée went ſoorth and ſought through all the Empyre ſo long till hée had ſound ye Emperours daughter and the knights, and alſo ye greyhound, and brought them againe. And after that he had got to wiſe ye yong lady with great honour & ioye, and alſo reſtored againe the knights goods. And at the laſt hee ended his life in peace and reſt.

The Morall

This Emperour béetokeneth our Lord Jeſu Chriſt. His daughter béetokeneth the ſoule of man, made after the ſimilitude of our Lord God. And ye v. knights béetokeneth ye v. wits, armed with the vertue of baptim for ye preſeruation of ye ſoule. The comptrouller of ye knights is reaſon which ought to rule ye wits. The greyhound is ye fleſh of man. The ſteward betokeneth euery man to whōe god hath giuen life & ſoule to keepe vnder paine of léeſing euerlaſting life. But a wretched & wicked man remembryng not that is to come, full often corrupteth and poluteth his ſoule with ſinne, and repelleth hir from hir Pallayes of heauen, and then wandreth ſhee from dore to dore, that is to ſay, from ſinne to ſinne. Hee diſpoiled theſe v. knights of their goods, that is to ſay, the v. wittes of theirs, or rather gracious vertues, taking away the naturall light from their eyes, exhorteth them diſorderly, and alſo mouyng▪ the eares to liſten vnto ſlaunder and backbiting, and ſo forth of all the other wittes, and thus ſome bee made theeues, & ſome mankillers. The maſter of theſe v. wittes is flame when ſo euer man is ruled by will, and not by reaſon. The greyhound, that is the fleſh, wherein a man deliteth, was fedde and bound with a chaine of reaſon, which hee breaketh full o • t and runneth out, and doth much harme.

The comming againe of this Emperour from the holy land betokeneth the comming of our Lord Jeſu Chriſt at the day of dome to iudge all mankinde.

Therefore doe wee as the ſtewarde did, accuſe wee firſt our ſelfe of our ſinnes leaſt the diuell & the world accuſe vs, then it is to late to aſke mercie, therfore put wee off our clothes betime, that is to ſay, our ſinfull life, and take wee thrée ropes in our hands.

The firſt rope that ſhould bynd our hands and feete, beetokeneth the rope of true repentaunce which not onely • ught to binde our hands & feete, but alſo both our hearts within vs and our outward conuerſation in ſuch auſteritie of life, yt the blood braſt out on euery ſide, that is to ſay, that ſinne might iſſue and voide it felſe. Héere to accordeth Ezechiell ſaying thus. In quacun que hora egerit pen • tentiam pecator ſaluus erit. When ſo euer the ſinfull man doth repent himſelfe he ſhall be ſaued. The ſecond cord for to draw the treſpaſſer, is acknowledging of our ſinnes which ſhould draw vs from the beginning of our life vnto our liues ende, by the party reconſiliation to our ſelues to God & man, vnto the time that the fleſh be fallen from the bones, that is to ſay, till the luſt of the fleſh bée turned away by the ſtones of repentaunce. For in like wiſe as the ſtone by nature and kind is hard, right ſo the way of repentaunce ought to bée hard. The third rope that ſhould hang the felon, is the rope of amendement of life. For as the ſcripture ſaith, t • ere is more ioye in heauen ouer one ſinner that turneth vnto the Lord in time, than ouer &c. Like as the stewa • d brought againe Themper • urs daughter. • o it behoueth vs to ſéeke about by fruitfull faith, yea to finde our ſoule that we loſt, and bringing hir againe to the church, to rule well our fiue witts, to ſéede our greyhound as we ſhould, and make our liſe ſo cleane and pure, that we fall not againe to ſinne, for feare that it fortune to vs worſe, and that we haue no leaſure to aſke mercy againe at our néede. And it we fullfil all this truely vnto our liues ende, without doubt wée ſhall obtaine euerlaſting life. To the which our Lord bring vs all.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶ The violating of our innocēcie in not ••• nitating the law of God, is heere deſcribed with being adiudged after the ſleſh▪ yet by the merits of Chriſt our ſauiour, we obtaine our ſaluation.

The 19. Hiſtory.

IN Rome dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour and a wiſe named Edſenne, which ordained a law for yt whoſoeuer rauiſhed a maide, ſhould be at hir diſcretion wherewith ſhe would put him to death, or that ſhe would take him to hir huſband.

It befell after that a man rauiſhed in a night two faire matdeus, the firſt damoſell which he rauiſhed deſired that he ſhould dye, and the ſecond deſired him to hir huſband. The rauiſher was taken & ledde before the Judge, that ſhould ſatiſfie both theſe damoſells through his wiſdome and equitir of the cauſe. The firſt damoſell deſired the death, according to the law. Then ſaid the ſecond, I deſired to haue him my huſband, for like as thou haſe the law for thée, ſo in like caſe I haue it for mée, and neuertholeſſe my petition is more better than yours, for it is more charitable, therefore me thinketh in my reaſon that the Juſtice ſhould giue ſinſence in fauour and furtherance of my deſire. Then the Juſtice vnderſtanding the great mercy of the ſecond damoſell, gaue iudgement that he ſhould take hir to his wife, and ſo it was done.

The Argument.

The mother of the childe of grace and of the reprobate, is heere declared which of them ſhall be ſaued, and which of them dampned, is not yet reuealed vnto the world, till the day of iudgement.

The 20 Hiſtorie.

SOmetime there dwelt in Rome a mightie Emperour and a rich named Lipodius, which tooke to wiſe a faire virgin & a gentill, ye daughter of the king of Aſsiria, this yong lady conceiued and beare a childe. And in the byrth of hir ſonne ſhe dyed. And anone after hir deceaſe this Emperour maried an other wife, and had by hir achilde alſo. And immediately after that theſe children were borne, he ſent them both into a ſtrange land for to be noriſhed. Then ſaid the mother of the ſecond childe. My reuerend Lord tenne yéeres bée now fully expired ſince I bare my childe, and yet ſawe I him neuer but once, and that was the firſt daye of his byrth, therefore I beſéech you my Lord to ſend for him, that I may once reioyce mée of his ſight. Then ſaid the Emperour, I haue an other childe by my firſt wyfe, and if I ſend for thy ſonne than muſt I ſend for both, and than anone he ſent for them. And when they were come they were of paſſing faiture and well trayned, well inſtructed & paſſing like in all maner thinges: ſo as hardly the one might bee knowen from the other, but by the father onely diſcerned. Than ſaid the mother of the ſecond childe. A my Lord, tell mée which of theſe is my ſonne, and he called to him his ſonne yt he begate on his fieſt w •• e. Whan the Empreſſe hea • d this, ſhée gaue all hir care to nouriſh him, and deſpiſed the other child. When the Emperour ſaw this, he ſaide to his wiſe. Certainely I haue deceiued thee, for him that thou loueſt ſo much is not thy ſon, but that other is thy ſonne.

Than ſette ſhée all hir care vpon the ſeconde, and forſooke the firſt.

When the Emperour ſaw this, hée ſaide. Truely I haue deceiued thée without doubt, this is not thy ſonne, but one of them two is thy ſonne. Then ſayde the mother. A my Lorde for his loue that dyed for mankinde, tell mée without cauellacion, which of them is my ſonne. The Emperour anſwered and ſayd, certainely I will not tell you till they come both to mans ſtate, for this reaſon. Firſt I told you that this was your ſonne, and him haue you cheriſhed as thy ſonne, and forſaken that other, and when I tolde you that this was your ſonne, than deſpiſed you the firſt and cheriſhed the ſecond, therefore I will that you bring vppe and cheriſh them both, till that you may haue ioye of them.

When thempriſſe heard this ſhe nouriſhed them both a like. And when they were both come to age, the Emperour made a great ſupper, and before all his geſtes hée tolde his wyfe openly which of them was hir childe.

Than reioyſed the Empreſſe greatly, and with hir ſonne ſhée ended hir lyfe in peace and reſt.

The Argument.

The vngodly of this world will take no paines to liue vertuouſly, and yet often tymes are they enriched for the moſt pait with the guifts of fortune, neither carefull of the reward laid vp for pure vertue in heauen, nor fearing the torments of hell deputed for the rich and vicious worldlings.

The 21. Hiſtory.

SOmetime there dwelt in Rome a noble Emperour named Polenus, which had thrée ſonnes whome hee loued much. It béefell vpon a daie when this Emperour lay vpon his bed, he bethought him to which of his ſonnes he might giue his Empyre after his deceaſe. Then called hée to him his thrée ſonnes and ſaide. Which of you three that is ſloweſt ſhall haue mine Empyre after my deceaſe. The firſt ſonne anſwered and ſayde. Thyne Empyre by reaſon ſhall bée myne: For I am ſo ſlow that if my foote were in the fyre, I had rather it ſhould be brent then I to take it out.

Then ſaid the ſecond, I am (quod hée) more apt to the Empyre then thou, for though ther were a rope about my neck wherwith I ſhould bée hanged, and if I had a ſharp ſword in my hand for great ſlouth yt I haue I would not put ſoorth my hande to cutte the rope for to ſaue my life: And when theſe two brethren had ſaid, the third ſaide for him thus, I ought to be Emperour béefore you both, for I paſſe you in ſlouth, and that will I proue thus. I lye vpright in my bed, & there droppeth water vpon both mine eyen, & for great ſlouth that I haue I moue not my head neither to the right ſide of the bedde nor to the lefte ſide, for ſauing of my ſelfe. When the Emperour heard this, hée béequethed the Empyre vnto the youngeſt ſonne as to the ſloweſt of the bretheren.

The 22. Hiſtorie.

ALexander the mightie Emperour ſometime ruled, which beſéeged a citie of the kinge of Egipt with a great hoaſt, neuer the leſſe this Emperour loſt many mightie Knights without any hurt of ſtroke. And thus frō day to day his people dyed ſodenly, whereat this Alexander wondred greatly & was full ſorowfull therof in his minde, and anone let call afore him the wiſeſt Philoſophers that might bée found, and praied them to tell him why his people dyed thus ſodainly without woūd. The Philoſophers anſwered and ſaid.

My Lord it is no wonder, for vpon the walls of that Caſtell within the Citie is a Cocatrice, through whoſe ſight your men dye, for they are infected with the venime that commeth of his eyen, and there vpon they dye.

Than this Alexander aſketh if there wer any remedy againſt that cocatrice. The Philoſophers anſwered and ſaid. My Lord, there is good remedy, which is this, pleaſeth it you to ſet vp a large myrrour of cléere glaſſe ouer againſt this Cocatrice, between your hoaſt & the wall of the citie, & when the cocatrice beholdeth him ſelfe in the myrrour, the deadly nature of this venimous ſight ſhall returne againe to himſelfe, & thus he ſhall die, and your men ſhal be ſaued. The Emperour wrought by the counſell of the Philoſophers, and let ſet vp ſtraight a large myrrour of glaſſe, and thus was the Cocatrice ſlayne, and the Emperour with his hoaſt made an aſſault to the Citie, and obtained the victory.

The Argument.

The ſoule of man being occupied in the body with the fleſh, ſhe ſeeketh by ſiniſter meanes to ouerthrow the ſoule with hir vncleane luſts, after ye world, wher though the ſoule for a time ſuffereth ſhipwrack of worldly felicitie, yet the Lyon of the tribe of Iuda is of power, not onely to comfort him in neceſsitie, but alſo to reuēge his miury, & make him to repoſſeſſe with his former eſtate a more firmer euerlaſting felicity in the world to come.

The 23. Hiſtorie.

A Mightie Emperour ſometyme ruled the Romaynes maned Archelaus, the which in his olde age eſpowſed a fayre young ladye, whome a young knight loued, & had to doe with hir as oft as him liſt.

It béefell on a night that this Emperour beethought him in his bedde to viſit the citie Ieruſalem, wherfore without any more delay he ordain • d al thing neceſſary to his iourney, and tooke his leaue of the Empriſſe and of the ſtates of thempyre, & went towards the ſayd Citie.

When the Empriſſe heard this, ſhée tooke the maſter of ye ſhippe and ſayd: If thou wilt conſent to mee & bée true, aſke of me what thou wilt & thou ſhalt haue it. The maſter of the ſhippe was corrupt with couetouſneſſe and ſaid. O my déere ladye, what ſo euer you will commaund mée I ſhall without fayle fulfill it, ſo that yée will reward mée for my labour. Then ſaide the Empreſſe, or thou doe ought for mée I ſhall giue thée what thée liſt to haue, ſo that thou wilt ſweare to bée true to mée & kéepe my counſaile.

The maiſter of the ſhippe anone made his oath to bée true to hir.

Than ſaide the Empreſſe. My Lord goeth with you in your ſhip, therefore when he is in ye middeſt of the ſea, caſt him out that hée may bee drowned, and yée ſhall obtaine your reward without any withſaying.

Then the maſter of the ſhippe ſware a great oath and ſayde. By the great God Jubiter after hee commeth once within my ſhip, yée ſhall neuer ſee him more. Then the lady paide him as much gold as he would haue, & foorth he went to his ſhippe.

And within ſhort time after the emperour tooke his ſhip, and when he was in the middes of the ſea, the maſter of that ſhippe toke Themperour & threw him ouer borde into the ſea.

Then the maſter returned againe and tolde the Empreſſe that the Emperour was caſt into the ſea, whereof ſhee was full glad.

This Emperour yt was thus caſt into ye ſea had learned in his youth to ſwim, and ſwam foorth till hée ſaw an Ilande in the ſea, but euer in his ſwimming when hée was faint & like to haue béene drowned, hée prayed to God to bée his help, and wept ſore, tyll at the laſt hée came into a little Iland wherein was nothing but Lyons and Lybberds and diuerſe other beaſts that ſwam thether from other lands.

When this Emperour had taken land in that yle, hée ſpyed a yong Lyon fighting with an olde Lybbard, and the Lyon was almoſt ouercome. The Emperour had great compaſſion on the Lion and drew out his ſworde and ſlew the Lybbard. The Lyon euen from ye tyme foorth followed the Emperour, & would not leaue him for nothing, but • uery day the pray that this Lion toke he brought and layd it béefore ye Emperours féete, and anone the Emperour ſmote fire on the ſlint ſtone, and boyled the body in the ſkinne, and thus was he fedde long tyme, tyll at the laſt hée walked to the Sea ſtrand, where he ſaw a ſhip come ſayling by, & anone with an high voice hée cryed. And when the ſhipmen heard the voyce, they wondred what it might bée, wherfore they ſayled toward him, and when they were come to him hée ſayde good friends take mée with you, and I ſhall pay you a good fraight. And anone they tooke him into theyr ſhip, and the Lyon followed him ſwimming in the Sea after the ſhippe: And whan the Lyon was in point to haue bene drowned, the ſhipmen had pittie on him, and tooke him into the ſhippe. And when the Emperour came to lande hée payd his fraight, and when he had payd them he went foorth tyll hée came neere his owne Pallais, wher he heard trumpets and Claryons, with all maner of other minſtrelſie, and as hee hearkened what it might bée, there came from the Pallayes a Squire towards him that was of his knowledge, but the Squire knew not him, to whome the Emperour ſayde thus. Good friend I praye thée tell mée what melody is this that I heare. The Squire aunſwered and ſayde. The Empreſſe is married this daye, and there bée all the ſtates of the Empyre at hir feaſt, and therefore they make ſuch melodie to make hir geſtes merry.

Then ſayde the Emperour to the ſquire, where is hir huſband that was the Emperour before. The ſquire ſaid that he was gone to the holy lande, and was drowned by the way in the Sea. Then ſayd the Emperour, I pray thée ſir that thou wouldeſt doe my errande to thempreſſe & to the Lord that would be hir Huſband, that I may come into the Pallayes and ſhow theyr maieſties ſome diſport with my Lion.

The ſquire graunted to doe his errande, and went in and tolde the Lord and the Ladye, that at the gate was a goodly olde man that deſyred to come in and play with his Lyon afore you. Then ſayde the new wedded Lorde, bring him in, and if he be worthy percaſe hée might gette his meate for his playe.

Whan the Emperour with his Lyon was brought in, the Lyon anone without any comfort or ſetting on, ranne vppon the young knight that was newly maried and ſlew him, and when hée had ſo done, he ran vpon the Empreſſe & deuoured hir to the hard bones before all the Lords of the Empyre. And when the ſtates ſaw this, they were greatly agaſt and began to flee. But the Emperour wt his fayre ſpeach comforted them & ſaid. Lo this is the vengeance of god, for this is my wyfe that hath vſed aduoutry long time with this knight that lyeth héere dead, and ſhe practized my death with the maſter of the ſhip, and héere vpon the maſter threw mee into the Sea, but God ſaued mee from the death, and bicauſe I holp once the Lyon at a néed, hée forſooke mée neuer ſith, and now as ye ſee all when I come into my Pallays without any comfort of mée, hée hath ſlaine both the adoultere • s, and therefore vnderſtande ye for trouth that I am your Lord the Emperour.

Anone when they heard this, they lift vp theyr eyen and béehelde him, and at the laſt they knew him for theyr Lord, wherefore they were greatly reioyſed and prayſed God for ye miracle, which had ſaued their Lord and Emperour. And they liued after in reſt and peace.

The Argument.

The ſoule of manne eſpouſed to Chriſt in baptiſme, yet dyeth by meanes of ſinne, leauing behinde hir ſonne called reaſon, or rather the word of God, which healeth the diſeaſe of man hir ſinfull father, and beeing ſent for to cure the maladie of hir ſtepmother, will, refuſeth to adminiſtrate ghoſtly comfort vnto hir.

The 24. Hiſtory.

SOmetime in Rome bare ſway a mightie Emperour named Gorgonie, which had married a courteous Lady and a fayre, to his wife. This yong Lady in due proceſſe of time conceiued and bare a ſonne, a fayre child & an amiable. When this child was ten yéere old, his mother the Empreſſe died. And anon after the Emperour maried an other wife. The ſecond wife loued in no wiſe the Emperours ſonne, but dyd him all the ſhame and reproch that ſhe might. When the Emperour perceiur • this, willing to pleaſe his wife, exiled his ſonne out of his Empier. And when this child was exiled, he went and ſtudyed Phiſicke, ſo that within ſhort time h •• 〈3 lines〉 when he heard that h •• ••••• ••• ſuch a Phiſition, he ſent for •• Spand •• letters, praying him that he would c ••• •• him without any delay. And then the ſonne willing to obey and ſulſill h • s •• thers commaundement, in all haſt came vnto him. And when he had ſ • ene his father, and felt his ul •• s and his veines, all the i • kneſſe he had was ſoone healed with his medicines from all manner of dangers.

Soone after that, the empreſſe his ſtepmother began to ware ſicke, and many phiſitions ſaid that ſhe would dye. And when the emperour heard this, he praied his ſonne to helpe hir of hir ſickneſſe. Then ſaid his ſonne, certainely father, I will lay no • and on hir. Than the Emperour began to ware wroth & ſaide. If thou wilt not obay my commandement, thou ſhalt h • refoorth depart m • empyre. His ſonne anſwered and ſaide: If •• e d • e ſo (dee • e father) ye do vnrightfully, for well you kn • w, that you • x • l • d •• ée, out of your Empyre through hir ſuggeſtion, and mine abſence was cauſe of your ſorrow and ſickneſſe, & in likewiſe my preſence is cauſe of hir ſickneſſe, and therefore I will not meddle with hir, & alſo I w • ll • ſ • no mor • medicines, for of • entimes phiſitions are deceiued, and therefore I dare not •• ye hand on hir, leaſe m • n would ſay, (if it fortuned hir to dye) that I w • re the cauſe thereof. Then ſayde the Emperour: She hath the ſame ſickneſſe that I had.

His ſonne aunſſhered & ſayd, though ſhée hath ye ſame ſickneſſe, neuertheleſſe y •• bee not both of on • complection. For whatſoeuer I did to you, yée helde you content, and when yée ſawe mée come within the Pallace, yée reioyced of my comming, and greatly were ca • ed to ſée him that yee b •• gat.

But when my ſtepmother ſaw mée, ſhée ſw • il • d for anger, and toke cor • ie at hir heart, and therfore if I ſhould ſpeake to hir, hir ſorrow ſhould increaſe, and if I ſhould touch hir, ſhee would bée from hir ſelfe. And alſo a Phiſition pro • iteth naught, but whereas the ſicke patient delighteth in him.

And when the Emperours ſonne had ſayd his mind, hée eſcaped and went his way.

The Argument.

¶ Ieſus Chriſt the ſonne of God, ought to bee cheriſhed and foſtered in our harts by faith and fruitfull good lyfe. Which is taken from vs when we are vnthankfull vnto him, in gods graces. Wherfore the prechers of gods word as good Phiſitians, are comfortably ſent vnto vs for the admoniſhment of vs in perſeuerance to amendement of lyfe, and conſtancie in Chriſtes merits, ſo to harbour him in our harts, as he may therby beſtow on vs the promotion of heauenly bliſſe euerlaſting.

The 25. Hiſtory.

SOmetim • dwelt in Rome a mightie Emperour named Folenus, who had taken to wife the Kings daughter of Germany, ••• re lady & a courteous, which w 〈…〉 ſhort time conceiued and bare a ſonne. 〈…〉 th • s childe was borne, ye ſtates of the Empyre come to the Emperour, and euery one of them beeſought the Emperour to nouriſh his ſonne. The Emperour anſwered and ſaid. To morow ſhall be a to 〈…〉 y, and there ſhall ye all be, & which of you doth beſt, & obtaineth the victory, ſhall haue the keeping of my ſonne.

And if • ee traine him vp well. I ſhall promote him to great dignitie & honour. And if he doe the contrary, he ſhall d • e the fouleſt death that can bée thought. Then ſayd they. Deere Lord, all this pleaſeth vs well.

On the morow when euery man was come to the tourney, the ſtates luſted & held tourney with great valiance a long time, till at ye laſt there ſame a worthie knight named • oſias, that ſo couragiouſly bare himſelfe among thē, yt he obtained the victory. And immediatly after the tourney was all done, this • oſias, toke the childe and led him forth with him.

And béecauſe this Emperours ſonne ſhould be receiued in his coūtry, he ſent before to his Caſtle & commaunded his officers that it ſhould bee royally prouided for, and prepared both without and within, & that ye childs lodging ſhould be in the middeſt of the Caſtle, and alſo that ye ſeuen Sciences ſhould bee pourtrayed about the childs bed, that when the Childe waked out of his ſleepe, hée might lye in his bedde and beehold the ſame. This knight had a fruitfull and a wholeſome well by the childes beddes ſide, wherein bée vſed to bath himſelfe & the knights wife bare the keye of this well, and there was a window where at the Sunne might comfortably ſhine vpon him. It fortuned vpon a daye the Lady that kept the keye, left the window open through negligence.

Which beeinge ſo done, there came a Beare and ſawe the Window open, and went to the well, and bathed him therein, of whoſe bathing the well ſau • u • ed after for the great h • a • e which was ye 〈◊〉 in the chafed beare, wherefore who ſo euer dranke thereof waxed leperous with in ſhort time. And ſo it fortuned within a little ſpace, that by meanes of vſing the ſame water, ye Lord the Lady and all their houſehold were lepers, and notwithſtanding it appeared not ſodainly. And in ye meane time there came a great Eagle in at the window where the Emperours ſonne lay, and • are ye childe away out of his cradell. And when the knight perceiued this, hée wept bitterly and ſaide. Alas alas and woe to mée, wretched creature, that euer I was borne, what ſhall I doe, for now I am the ſonne of death, for I am become a lothſome lea • er, and ſo in my wife and all my houſehold. And while he was thus mourning, ther came to him a Phiſition & ſaid to him. Sir, if ye will doe after my counſa • le, it ſhall not repent you. Firſt it beehoueth you & your wife, & all your houſehold to bée letten bloud, and after that to bée bathed and waſhed cleane. And then ſhall I lay to my medicine.

And when yée are whole, then ſhall you and your houſehold walke to ye mountaines, and ſéeke the Emperours ſonne, for the Eagle hath let him fall in ſome, place. The knight wrought all thing by the counſaile of this Phiſition, and incontinent after was letten bloud and receiued the medicine, and then hée was all whole and his wife & all his houſehold, wherfore hée toke his horſe, accompanyed with thrée Squires, and rode foorth to ſéeke the childe. And at the laſt hée found him whole and ſound lying in a valey, wherat he greatly reioyced.

And for the great ioye & gladneſſe that was in him for finding of ye Emperours ſonne, hée led the Childe home to his father. And when the Emperour ſaw his ſonne in good health, hée was right glad, wherefore hée promoted him to great worſhip, and ſo after that long time liued he ther in heauenly ſtate, and at the laſt he ended his life in peace and reſt.

The Morall.

This Emperour betokeneth the father of Heauen, his ſonne beetokeneth our Lord Jeſus Chriſt, whome many men deſired to nouriſh, at ſuch t ••• s as they receiued the ſacrament of his death and paſſion. Hee nouriſheth him that delt • uſteth with the diuell, & ouercommeth him through godly life. The knight that tooke this childe with him, beetookeneth a good chriſtian man that euermore abſteineth truely from doing euill, and laboreth cōtinually to doe good to all men. Therfore doe wée as ye knight did, ſend wée béefore meſſengers to prepare and make cleane the Caſtle of our hearts, from all ſpo • s of ſin by fruitfull faith, and ſo ſhall this childe Jeſus reſt and light in the middeſt of our hart.

The well beetokeneth mercy, which ought to bée next our Lord. For who ſo euer is without mercy & truth may not nouriſh that bleſſed childe Jeſu. But it happeneth ofte that the Knights wi • e (that is the fleſh of m • n) beareth ye key of mercie, & ofte leaueth that well open, and then commeth the beare) that is, the diuell, & leaueth the loathſome filth in the well of mercy, & who that taſteth thereof ſhall be infected with leproſie of ſin. The window wherein the Sun ſhineth, is the grace of the Holy ghoſt, by whome • en liue & are comforted ghoſtly. By this window the Eagle commeth in, that is to ſay, the people of allmightie G • d, and toke away the childe Jeſus from the heart of man, and then manne hath great ca • ſ • to wéepe, but what ſhall we doe when the Childe is gone, but ſend for a ſubtill phiſition, that is to ſay, a diſeréet miniſter of the word of God which ſhall giue him counſayle & let him blood & all his houſehould, that is to ſay, to put out ſin through acknowledging thereof, & reconciling himſelfe with earneſt repentaunce vnto his heauenly Father.

Then muſt hée bath himſelfe with teares of contrition, and Compunction of heart, and after that, take the medicine of amendement of life, and ſo liue pure and cleane from all manner o • ſin, and when he hath done thus, he muſt leape on the Palfray of good perſeueraunce from euill, and ryde foorth with his thrée ſquires, that is to ſay, faſting from euill, prayer vnto God, and well deſerued towards man, & then without doubt, he ſhall finde the childe Jeſus in the •• ley of humilitie, and not on a hill, that is to ſay, pride. And if he doe thus doubtleſſe he ſhall haue might & power to nouriſh that bleſſed childe Jeſus, for whoſe nouriſhing, the father of heauen ſhall promote him vnto euerlaſting ioy. Unto the which ioy, God bring vs all.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶ Chriſt the king of euerlaſting glory, hath proclamed mutuall ioy & bliſſe in heauen, as well to the poore as to the rich, But the rich oft times coueting all, looſeth that prerogatiue which the poore in hart enioy by the prouidence of god. Yet as he is a righteous God, he ordayneth both for the rich and the poore, in ſuch ſorte, that if they will, they may together ioyfully be ſatiſfied with the fruition of his abundant graces.

The 26. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime dwelt in Rome a mightie Emperour named Fulgentius, which gouerned his people nobly, & • oued them ſo much, that he made to proclayme throughout all Nations, whoſoeuer ſhould come to him rich or poore at a certain day, ſhould haue their petitions whatſoeuer it were.

When the mightie men heard this, they were glad, and came at the day aſſigned, & euery man put foorth their petitions, vnto the Emperour, and immediately their petitions were granted & fulfilled, inſomuch that a great part of the reuenewes of the Empire was diſtributed among them. Thē euery man was ioyfull, and went home againe and tooke ſeaſon of ſuch lands and Caſtells as the Emperour had giuen them.

Straight way after, the poore men in the Emperours dominions, gathered them together and ſaid. A common crye was made, that all men both • oo • e and rich, ſhould come to the emperours pa • l •• ce, & there they ſhould haue what ſoeuer they aſked. The rich men haue bene there lately, and obtained the •• petitions. Therefore goe wée now and trye •• we may obtaine any good of the Emperour. The counſell was approb •• e & allowed among them all, wherfore they went forth tyll they came to the emperours pallaice, and there they put forth their petitions according to the emperours proclamation.

When the emperour had heard them, he ſayd to them. Deere friends, I haue heard all your petitions, & it is trouth that my proclamation was, that euery man indifferently ſhould come and haue their petitions, but the rich and mightie men haue ben here before you, to whom I haue giuen all that I had, ſaue onely the royaltie of my Lordſhip, & ſo haue I nothing left to 〈…〉 you, whereat the poore men pitiouſly reply • d •• h • ood and gratious • ouereigne, haue cōpaſſion on vs, & let vs not go hence empt • a way, for we know wel, yt it is our owne defalt, yt wée came not rather with theſe other rich and mightie men, but •• th it is ſo, wée aſke your grace that wée may obtaine ſomewhat by the which wée may liue. Than ſayde the Emperour. Good friends though I haue giuen moſt of my lands, rents, tenements, and cattells to the rich men that came before you.

Neuertheleſſe I haue kept ſ • ill in mine owne hands the Soueraigntie and dominion ouer them, and that I doe giue to you, and ſo ſhall they be your ſeruaunts, and be obedient to you all. And when the poore men heard this, greatly hereat reioyſing, knéeled downe to the Emperour and thanked him ſaying. Lo though wée come late, yet wée be made Lords ouer all theſe other. And with this they tooke their leaue & went home againe. But when ye rich & the mightie men heard that, they were greatly moued and ordained a common parliamēt among themſelues. And thus it was ſpoken among them. Alas, alas, how may we ſerue them that ſometime were but peſants and our ſubiects in all maner thinges, and now they bée made lords ouer vs. Therefore goe wée all with one aſſent to Themperour & pray him of remedy. When this was ſayd, their counſayle was commended, and foorthwith they went to the Emperour and ſaid to him. Reuerend Lord what may this bée, thoſe that were our ſeruants be our lords, we beſéech you méekly that it may not be ſo.

Than ſaid the Emperour. Good friends I doe you no wrong, for my crye was common, that what ſo euer you aſked of me you ſhould obtaine your petition, and ye aſked nothing of me but lands, rents and honours, and all that haue I graunted you at your owene will, in ſo much that I kept nothing for my ſelfe, and each of you were well content at your away going, & after that came ſimple and poore men, and aſked of mée ſome goods according to my proclamation, and I had nothing to giue them, onely the Souer aigntie and Dominion ouer you, which I kept in my handes, and when the poore menne ſo cryed on mée, I had nothing to giue them, ſaue onely the authoritie ouer you, and therfore ye ſhould not blame mée, for yt ye aſked ye had. Than ſayd they. A good and gracious Lord, we pray you effectuouſly of your counſayle in this caſe, and of your help. The Emperour anſwered and ſayd. Sirs, if ye will work after mée, I ſhall giue you good and profitable counſayle. Than ſayd they, wée be readie to fulfill whatſoeuer ye ſaye to vs for our profit. Then ſaid Themperour. My good friends, ye haue of mée both landes and tenements, with other moueable goods, and that great plenty, the which by my counſayle ye ſhall depart with to the poore menne, that they may graunt you the ſouera • gntie and dominien which they haue. And anone theſe rich men gladly graunted to this, and departed all their goods among the poore men, and than they gaue them againe the authoritie ouer them, like as they had of ye rich men. And thus were they both content, and the Emperour was greatly commended of all the people, bicauſe he accorded both the partes ſo wiſely.

The Argument.

The Emperour of eternall glorie Chriſt hath two daughters, the one faire the other foule, the faire daughter is this world, and the pleaſures thereof: the ſoule is pouerty & trouble. The fayre daughter is deſired of many, the foule daughter of fewe, who ſo loueth the world ſetteth not by god nor heauenly things, but by the vanites of this world, who ſo loueth God & heauenly things will ſuffer in Chriſt all perſecution & trouble for the obtaining therof, diſpiſing the world & all that therein is.

The 27. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime in Rome dwelt a mightie Emperour named Domician, which had two daughters, the one of them was paſſing fayre, but the other foule and euill fauored, wherfore hée lette crye throughout all his Empyre, that what man would haue his faire daughter to wyfe, ſhould haue nothing with hir but hir beautifull and comely perſonage. And who ſo would marry his foule daughter ſhould haue all his Empyre after his death. And when ye proclamation was made, there came many Lords that deſired to marry his faire daughter. To whome the Emperour anſwered thus. Sirs, quod hée, yée wote not what yée deſire, right well yée know that if yée marry hir, yee ſhal haue nothing with hir but hir beautifull & comely perſonage, and farthermore if I giue hir to one of you and not to an other, then will yée ſtriue for hir, therefore if yée will néedes haue hir and forſake my ſoule daughter, it ſhall béehoue you firſt to Juſt for hir, & hée that winneth hir, ſhall wed hir.

Than the nobles & ſtats of the Empire greatly reioyſed, and anone onely for loue of ye beautiful damoſell they would iuſt and alſo fight, wherefore thy ſet a daie of battaile, and many worthy men were ſlaine on both ſides, neuertheleſſe one obtained the chiefe victory, and eſpouſed that faire Lady.

The ſecond daughter which was foule and euill fauored, ſéeing hir ſiſter ſo béeſtowed with great ſolempnitie mourned & wept dayly, therefore the Emperour hir father came to hir and ſaide.

Déere daughter why mourneſt thou thus. Alas déere father, quod ſhée, it is no wonder though I mourne, ſéeing my ſiſter is married with great honour & gladneſſe, and euery man is ioyfull of hir, & no man loueth my company, and therfore déere father, what I may beſt doe, ſothly I wot not. Then ſaide the Emperour. O my déere daughter, all that is mine is thine, and it is not vnknowen to you that hée which marrieth thy ſiſter had nothing wt hir but hir beutiful corps, & therfore I ſhal proclaim in mine own perſō through all my empire, that what man marrieth thée, I ſhall make him aſſurance by letter patent of all mine Empyre after my death. Then this young Lady though ſhée was foule & euill fauored, neuertheleſſe ſhée reioyced in the promiſſe of hir father, immediatly after ye proclamation was made; ther came a yong knight & a gētil which eſpouſed the lady, and after the death of the Emperour ſeaſed vpon all the Empyre into his iuriſdiction and was crouned Emperour and ſhée Empreſſe.

The Argument.

¶ Deuotion, prayer, and thankes giuing vnto God for his giftes, is a ſounding Muſick delectable in ye eares of God, Wee are warned not after our firſt offending, to returne to our vomit with the dogge, no, rather let vs bath our Soules in the Well of ſorowfull and harty repentaunce and perceiueraunce of good lyfe, that wee may ly • e with Chriſt in euerlaſting ioye and bliſſe.

The 28. Hiſtory.

SOmetime in Rome dwelt a mightie Emperour named Andromick, which aboue all thing loued the harmony of Muſicke. This Emperor had within his Caſtel a wel of ſuch vertue, yt whoſoeuer were dronk by drinking, the water therof ſhould incontinēt make him freſh againe, & deliuered frō all kinde of dronkenneſſe. There was alſo dwelling in this Emperours court a Knight named Ydrony, whom ye Emperour loued much, but often times hée was dronken, which vice the Emperor heted aboue all thing. And when this knight perceiued himſelfe dronken, then would hée goe to the well and drinck of that water and refreſh himſelfe, ſo that what ſo euer The Emperour ſayde to him hée would aunſwere him ſo reaſonably, that no dronkeneſſe might bée ſéene in him, and for his witty anſwere hée was greatly béeloued of the Emperour. Neuertheleſſe his fellowes of the court enuied him much, and imagined amonge them ſelues how they myght withdrawe the Emperours loue from him.

It fortuned on a daye that this Emperour went to the Forreſt and heard a Nightingale ſing ſo merrely, that often times after hée would riſe earely in the morning, & ſometimes from his meate, and walke to the wood for to heare the ſwéetneſſe of hir ſonge, wherefore many of his men ſard among themſelues. Our Lord delighteth ſo much in the Nightingales ſonge, that hee rekoneth little of our profit, in ſo much that thorough two things his loue is withdrawen from vs that is to ſaye, by Ydrony the knight, and by the ſwéete ſong of the Nightingale.

Then ſaide an olde knight that was among them. Syes quod hee, if yee will doe by my counſell, I ſhall deliuer you of the knight Ydrony, and of the Nightingale without hurt or death.

They ſware and ſaide, what ſo euer yee bidde vs doe, wée ſhall ſtraight way fulfill with all our heart. When this knight heard this, within a while after it chāced he eſpied this Ydrony dronken, wherfore, hee locked faſt ye well, and as this knight Ydrony came to refreſh himſelfe, he found the well faſt locked.

The Emperour had a great matter to treate of, wherefore in haſt he ſent for this knight, bicauſe of his great wiſdome to haue his counſell. And when hée came beefore the Emperour he was ſo dronken that he might not once moue his tongue, neither had witte, reaſon, nor vnderſtanding to anſwere ye Emperour to his matter.

But when the Emperour ſaw this, he was greatly gréeued, for ſo much as hée hated that vice, wherefore he commaunded anon that from ye daye foorth he ſhould no more bée ſéene within his land, vpon paine of death.

This hearing his ſoes, were very glad and ſaid vnto the olde knight. Now wée be deliuered of this knight Ydrony, ther is no more to doe but that wée might finde the way to be deliuered of ye Nightingale, in which the Emperour delighteth ſo much.

Than ſayd this olde knight, your eares ſhall heare, and your eyes ſhall see, that this Nightingale ſhall be deſtroyed in ſhort tyme. Not long after this olde knight eſpied that the Nightingale vſed to ſit vpon a tree euen aboue ye foreſayd wel, wheras hir make came & coupled with hir, neuertheleſſe in ye abſence of hir make ſhe tooke oftentymes an other make and coupled with hir, when ſhée had thus done, than would ſhe deſcend to the well to bath hir ſelfe, that when hir make came, he ſhould féele no ſauour ne euill odour of yt ſhe had done. When the knight had ſéene this, on a tyme hee locked the well, and when the Nightingale would haue deſcended to bath hir ſelfe after hir coupling with ye other make, ſhee found the well cloſed, wherfore ſhe flew vp into ye trée againe and mourned ſore in hir maner, and left hir ſweet ſong. Then came hir make & ſaw that ſhe had done againſt hir nature, he returned againe & in ſhort time brought a great multitude of Nightingales which ſlew his make, & tare hir all to péeces.

And thus was the wiſe knight put away and the Nightingale ſlayne, and the Emperour put from his pleaſure, and ſolace ſuch as he was wont to haue.

The Argument.

¶ The ſoule of euery good Chriſtian man, hath to prepare him armed vertues to withſtand the aſſaultes of the diuell, we are heere put in minde of our deliuerance out of thraldome by the precious bloud ſhedding of Ieſus Chriſt, which is a terrour to all the hagges of hell, not to dare to aſſault vs, ſo long as we liue firme in Chriſtes faith, and beleeue in him, the bulwark of our ſaluation.

The 29. Hiſtorie.

IN Rome there dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour named Darmes, which had a mightie ſtrong Citie & excéeding ſtrongly walled about, & a Bell hanging in the middeſt of the Citie, and when ſo euer this Emperour went to battayle with out the Cittie, this Bell ſhould be ro • ng, but there ſhould no manne ring the Bell but a virgin. Within ſhort time after it béefell, that Dragons, Serpents, and many other venimous beaſtes empoyſoned much people, ſo that the Citie was almoſt deſtroyed, wherefore the ſtates of the Citie went with one aſſent to the Emperour and ſayde. Lord what ſhall wée doe, lo, our goods and our Citie is almoſt deſtroyed, and you and wée be in perill to periſh, through theſe fell beaſts that conſume vs, therfore take wée good counſaile, or elſe wée are but loſt.

Then ſaide the Emperour, what ſay you is beſt to be done in this matter, and how may wée beſt be defended. Than anſwered one of the wiſeſt and ſayde. My Lord, heare my counſaile, and doe there after, and yée ſhall not forethinke it, ye haue (quod he) in your place a Lyon, and ſet vppe a péece of timber for the purpoſe, and therevpon let the Lyon be nailed & made faſt, and when other venimous beaſtes ſée him thus vſed and dealt withall, they will dread, and ſo ſhall they forſake this Citie, and we ſhall be in reſt and eaſe. Then ſayd the Emperour, it pleaſeth me well that he be hanged in ſauing of you. Than tooke they the Lyon & vſed him in maner as aforeſaid. And when the other Lyons & venimous dragons came toward the citie and ſaw ye Lyon thus hanging, they ſled away for dread, and durſt come no nearer.

The Argument.

¶ Heere is ſignified the thraldome of man vnto ſathan by ſinfull life, till Chirſt the ſonne of God deſcended with the power of the holy Ghoſt to ſet him at libertie, and put him in poſſeſsion of the pallais of euerlaſting felicity.

The 30. Hiſtorie.

IN Rome dwelled ſometime a mighty emperour & a merciful, named Menalay, which ordained ſuch a lawe, that what miſdoer were taken & put in priſon, if hée might eſcape & come to ye Emperours pallais, he ſhould be there ſafe for all maner felony, treaſon, or any other treſpaſſe that he had done in his life. It was not long after but it befell that a knight treſpaſſed, wherefore hée was taken & put in a ſtrong & darke priſon, wher hée lay long time, & had no light but at a litle window, whereas ſcant light ſhone in, that lightened him to eate his ſimple meate that was brought him by his keeper, wherfore hée mourned greatly & made ſorrow that hée was thus faſt ſhette vp from the ſight of men. Neuertheleſſe when the kéeper was gone there came dayly a Nightingale in at the window and ſang full ſweetly, of whoſe ſonge this woefull knight oft times was fed with ioye, and when this byrd ceaſed of hir ſong then would ſhee flye into the knights boſome, and there this knight fedde hir many a daye, of the vittayle that God ſent him.

It beefell after on a day, that this knight was greatly deſolate of comfort. Neuertheleſſe the byrd that ſat in his boſome feeding vpon kyrnells of Nuts, and thus hee ſaid vnto the byrd. Sweet bird I haue ſuſtained thée many a day, what wilt thou giue me now in my deſolation to comfort mée, remember thee well, that thou art ye creature of God, & I alſo, therefore help mée now in my grert néede. Whē the byrd heard this, ſhee flew forth frō his boſom, & taryed from him three daies. But the third day ſhe came againe, & brought in hir mouth a precious ſtone, & laid it in the knights boſome: And when the had ſo done ſhe toke hir • light & flew from him againe.

The knight meruayled of the ſtone and of the Byrd, and ther with hée toke the ſtone in his hande and touched his giues and fetters therwith, and anone fell of all his fetters & chaines wherewith hée was bound. And then hée aroſe and touched the dores of the priſon and anone they opened, and ſo hée eſcaped and ran faſt to the Emperours pallais. When the kéeper of the priſon perceiued this, hée blew a horne thriſe, and raiſed vp all the folke of the Citie, and lead them foorth crying with an high voice. Loe ye théefe is gone, follow wée him all. And with that hée ran béefore all his felowes toward the knight, and when he came nigh him, the knight bent his bow and did ſhoote an arrow wherwith hée ſmote the kéeper in the lungs and ſlew him, and then he ranne to the Pallays, wheras hée found ſuccour, according to the law.

The Argument.

¶ A poore man exalted to dignitie, is here admoniſhed not to be vnthankfull, and to render euill for good. But euen to the moſt ſimple ones to bee gratefull for any benefit, elſe ſurely the God that giues thee this promotion, will make the brutiſh creaturs of the earth thine enimies, & depoſe thee frō thy dignitie, & he that hath helped thee, bee hee neuer ſo baſe, may then in ſine, haue better fauour with God and man then thy ſelfe, wherfore bee warned of ingratitude, by this example, and know thy ſelfe, thy God, and thy friend.

The 31. Hiſtory.

THere dwelt ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour named Ebolides. It fortuned on a day, that this Emperour walked into the Forreſt, where he mette ſodainly with a poore man, & ſo ſoone as this Emperour ſaw him, hée was greatly moued with mercie & ſayd. Good friend whence art thou. My ſoueraine Lord quod he, I am your ſubiect, borne in your land, and now in great pouerty and néede. Then ſaid ye Emperour. If I knew that thou wert true in euery thing, I ſhould promote thée to great riches, therfore tell mée what is thy name.

My Lord quod he, I am called Lenticulous, and I plight you my troth & true ſeruice, & if I doe otherwiſe, I ſubmit mée vnto you & to all maner of puniſhment that yée can put me to. When the Emperour heard this, he promoted him incontinent to great riches, & not long after that he made him a knight & ſteward of his land. And whē hée was thus exalted to riches & honor, hée waxed ſo proude, that he deſpiſed both his ſuperiors & his inferiours. Not long after it béefell yt this ſteward rode by a forreſt, where as hée met with the foſter, and charged him that hée ſhould make an hundreth pitts in the ground, and couer them ouer with gréene graſſe and ſmal bowes, that if wild beaſtes fortuned to goe in the forreſt that ſame way, that they ſhould then fall in, and ſo ſhould they bee taken and brought to the Emperour. The Foſter aunſwered and ſayde. Sir as yée haue ſayde it ſhall bée done. Not long time after it fortuned that this Steward rode to this forreſt againe to ſe if theſe pittes were made, and as hée rode hée bée thought him how welthy a man & how mightie in power hee was made, and how all thing in the Empyre obeyed to him, and was redie at his will.

As hée rode thus thinking, hée ſaide to himſelfe. There is no GOD ſaue onely I, and with that hée ſmote his Horſe with his ſpurres, and ſodainly hee fell into one of the déepe pittes that he had ordained béefore himſelfe, for the wilde beaſtes, & for the great déepeneſſe thereof hée might not ariſe againe by no maner of craft, wherefore hée languyſhed in great perplexitie. And ſtraight way after him came a hungery Lyon and fell in the ſame pitte, and after the Lyon an Ape, and after the Ape a Serpent. When the Stewarde was thus walled with theſe thrée beaſtes he was greatly moued, and feared much.

There was that time dwelling in the Citie a poore man named Guy, that had no good ſaue onely an Aſſe, wherwith dayely hée carryed ſticks and wood that fell from trées and ſuch as he could get in the Forreſt, and thoſe he brought to the market and ſould them, and in this wiſe he ſuſtained himſelfe & his wife as well as he might.

It fortuned that this poore Guy, went to the • orreſt as he was wont, and • s he came by the déepe pitte, he heard a man cry & ſay. O déere friend what art thou, for gods ſake helpe mée, and I ſhall recompence thee ſo well, that thou ſhalt euer after be the better.

When this poore Guy heard that it was the voyce of a man, he meruayled greatly, and ſtoode ſtill on the Pittes brinck and ſayde Loe good friend I am come for thou haſt called mée. Than ſayde the knight, déere friende I am Steward of all the Emperours lands, and thus by fortune I am fallen into the Pitte, and heere be with mee thrée beaſtes, that is to ſay, a Lyon, an Ape, and an horrible Serpent, which I feare moſt of all, and I wot not of which of them I ſhall be firſt deuoured, therefore I pray thee for gods ſake get me a long cord wherwith thou maiſt draw me out of this deepe pit, and I ſhall warrant thée to make thée rich in all thing for euermore héere after, and but I haue help the rather, I ſhall be deuoured of theſe beaſtes. Thē ſaid this poore Guy I may full ill entend to helpe thée, for I haue nothing to liue on, but that I gather wood and carry it to the market to ſell, wherewith I am ſuſtained, neuertheleſſe I ſhall leaue my pretended labour and fulfill thy will, and if ye rewarde mée not it ſhall be great hinderance to mee and to my wife. Than the ſteward made a great oath and ſayde, that hée would promote him & all his, to great riches. Then ſayde Guy, if you will fulfill your promiſe, I ſhall doe that you byd mée. And with that went againe to the Citie and brought with him a long rope and came to the pit and ſayd. Sir ſteward, lo, I let downe a rope to thée, binde thy ſelfe about the middle therewith, that I may pul thée vp. Than was the ſteward glad, and ſaide. Good friend let down the rope. And with that he caſt the ende of the rope downe into the pit. And when the Lyon ſaw that, he caught the rope & hild it faſt and Guy drew the Lyon vp, wening to him he had drawen vp the ſteward, and when he had ſo done the Lyon thanked him in his maner, and ranne to the wood. The ſecond time that Guy let downe the rope, the Ape lept to it and caught it faſt, & when he was drawen vp, he thanked Guy as he could, and ranne to the wood. The third tyme he let downe the rope and drew vp the Serpent, which thanked him, and went to the wood. The ſteward cryed with an high voice. O déere friend now I am deliuered of thrée venimous beaſtes, now let downe the corde to mée, that I may come vp. And this poore Guy let downe the rope, and the ſteward bound himſelf faſt about the middle, and anone Guy drew him vp. And when he was thus holpe out of this déepe pitte, hée ſaide to Guy as followeth.

Come to me at thrée of the clock to the pallaies, and than I ſhall make thée rich for euer. This poore Guy reioiſed therof and went home without any reward. Than his wife demaunded of him why hee 〈…〉 no wood wherewith they 〈…〉 that day. Then told hée hir all the 〈…〉 as it be • ell, how ye ſteward 〈…〉 into the prt, and alſo the Lyon, the 〈…〉 the ſerpent, that he had made in the ſaid forreſt, and how he had holpen him with a cord, and ſaued him from deuouring of ye three ve •• mous beaſtes, and how he ſhould goe to the Steward and fetch his reward on the morrow.

When his wife heard this, ſhe reioyſed greatly and ſaide. If it ſhall be ſo good •• r ariſe to morrow at a due houre, & goe to the pallayes and receiue your reward, that we may be comforted thereby.

So in the morning Guy aroſe & went to the Pallays and knocked at the gate, Than came the Porter and aſked the cauſe of his knocking. I pray thée quod this Guy, goe to the ſteward and ſay to him that here abideth a poore man at the gate that ſpake with him yeſterday in the forreſt. The porter went and tolde the ſteward as the poore man had ſayd; Than ſayde the Stewarde, goe thou againe & tell him yt hée lyeth, for yeſterday ſpake I with no man in the forreſt, and charge him that he goe away, and that I ſée him there neuer after. The porter went foorth and told poore Guy, how the ſteward had ſayd, and charged him to goe away. Then was this poore Guy ſorowfull & went home, and when he was come he told his wyfe how the ſteward had anſwered him.

His wyfe comforted him in all that ſhe might, and ſayd. Sir goe ye againe and proue him thriſe. Then on the morow this Guy aroſe & went to the palays againe, praying the porter to doe his errand once againe to the ſteward. The porter anſwered and ſayd, gladly I wil doe thine errand, but I feare mée ſore that it ſhall be thy hurt.

And then went he in and told the ſteward of the comming of this poore man. When the ſteward heard that, he went out and all to beate this ſilly Guy, and left him in peril of death. Whē his wife heard this, ſhée came with hir Aſſe and led him home as ſhe might, and all that ſhe had ſhe ſpent vpon ſurgions & Phiſitions to help him. And when hée was perfectly whole, he went to ye forreſt as hee was wont, for to gather ſticks and ſmall wood for his liuing. And as hée went about in the Forreſt, hee ſaw a ſtrange Lyon driuing before him Aſſes that were loden with chaffer and marchandiſe. This Lyon droue forth ye Aſſes before Guy, which dread ſore the Lyon, leaſt he would haue deuoured him, neuertheleſſe whē he beheld the Lyon better, he knew well that he was the ſame Lyon that he drew out of the pit. This Lyon left not Guy till all ye Aſſes with the marchandiſe were entred into hys houſe, and than the Lyon dyd him obeyſaunce and ranne to the wood.

This Guy obtained theſe fardells, and found great riches therein, wherefore he made to proclaime in diuerſe Churches, if any man had loſt ſuch goods, but there was none that challenged them. And when Guy ſaw this, hée tooke the goods, bought therewith houſe and land, and ſo was made rich. Neuertheleſſe he haunted the Forreſt as he did béefore. And after that as he walked in the forreſt to gather wood, he eſpied the Ape in the tope of a trée, the which brake bowes buſely with hir téeth & clawes, & threw them downe, ſo that in ſhort time Guy had laden his Aſſe. And when the Ape had ſo done, ſhe went hir way, and Guy went home. And on the morrow Guy went to the forreſt again, and as he ſate bynding his faggots, he ſaw the Serpent that he drew out of the pytte come toward him, bearing in his mouth a precious ſtone of thrée coulours the which ſtone the Serpent let fall at Guyes féete and when ſhe had ſo done ſhée kiſſed his féete and went hir way. This Guy tooke vp the ſtone, and meruailed greatly of what vertue it might be, wherefore hée aroſe vppe and went to a Jeweller named Peter, and ſayde. Déere brother I pray thée tell mée the vertue of this precious ſtone, and I ſhall reward thée well for thy labour.

Whan this Jeweller had well béeholden and vnderſtood the nature of the ſtone, he ſayd. Good friend if thee liſt to ſell thy ſtone, I ſhall giue thée an hūdreth mark. Then ſayd Guy, I will not ſell my ſtone till thou tell mee truely the vertues thereof. Then ſayd the marchant, without doubt this ſtone hath thrée vertues the firſt vertue is, that whoſoeuer beareth this ſtone vpon him, ſhall haue ioy without ſorrow: the ſecond vertue is, that he ſhal haue plenty without want: the third vertue is, he ſhall haue light without darkeneſſe. And it hath alſo an other vertue, that no man may ſell it but for as much as it is worth, and if he doe the contrary, the ſtone returneth againe to the firſt owner.

When Guy heard this, hée was right ioyfull, and ſayd to himſelfe, in a good houre I drew theſe beaſtes out of the pyt.

Not long after it béefell that this Guy by the vertue of this ſtone was made paſſing riche and bought greate poſſeſſions and liuelode, wherefore with in a while he was made knight.

It was not long after the Emperour had knowledge how ſir Guy, had a ſtone of ſuch vertue, wherefore hée ſent for ſir Guy, commaunding him to come to him in all haſt, and ſo hee did. And when ſir Guy was come to the Emperour, the Emperour ſayde to him. My friend, I haue heard ſaye yt ſometime thou werte in great pouertie, and now thou arte made rich by ye vertue of a little ſtone, therefore I pray thée that thou ſell mée that ſtone. Syr Guy anſwered and ſayd, that may I not doe, for ſo long as I haue that ſtone, I am ſure of thrée things, that is to ſaye, of ioy without ſorrow, plenty without want, and light without darkeneſſe. When the Emperour heard this hée had greater deſire to buy that ſtone then hée had beefore, and ſaid to him, Sir Guy, of two things thou muſt chooſe one, that is, chooſe whether thou wilt forſake this Empyre and all thy kindered, or elſe ſel me thy ſtone.

Then ſayde Syr Guy.

My Lord, if it muſt néedes bée thus, bée it at your will, neuertheleſſe I ſhall tell you the perill of this ſtone, if yée paye not therfore as it is worth, without doubt if will come to mée againe. Then ſaid the Emperour, ſothly I ſhall giue thée ſufficient, for thou ſhalt receiue of mée therefore a thouſand pound, and ſo it was donne. Syr Guy receiued the mony and went home. On the morrow early hée opened his cofer & found the ſtone, and then hée told to the Lady his wife how hée had ſould the ſtone to the Emperour and deliuered it, & how he found it againe in his cofer. Thē ſaid his wife, good ſir in all yt haſt yée can goe agayne to the Emperour and take him the ſtone, leaſt that hee bée diſpleaſed, and through mallyce repute ſome deceipt in vs.

Then went foorth ſir Guy againe to the Emperour and ſayde to him. My Lord yeſterday I ſolde you a ſtone the which if it pleaſe you I would faine ſée. The Emperour went for the ſtone to his treaſure and found it not, wherefore hée was right ſorowfull, and came againe and told Syr Guy how it was loſt. Then ſayde Syr Guy, My Lord grieue you not, for I tolde you yeſterday that I might not ſell it, but if I had the valew thereof, and yeſterday I receiued a thouſand pound of you therefore, and this day I found it in my Cofer againe, and therefore if I had not brought you the ſtone againe peraduenture you would haue ſhewed mée your heauie countenance, and with that hée ſhewed foorth the ſtone, whereat the Emperour maruailed greatly & ſayd. Syr Guy by thy troth that thou oweſt to mée, tel mée how thou cameſt by this Stone.

Then ſayde ſir Guy, By my faith that I owe to you, I ſhall tell you the very troth as touching this ſtone.

Your ſteward that is promoted vp of nought, let make many déepe pittes in your Forreſt, and it fortuned not long after, yt hée fell downe into one of them himſelfe, and might not ryſe againe for déepeneſſe of ye pit, it fortuned alſo the ſame day, that a Lyon, an Ape, & a ſerpent fell into the Pitte with him, at which time I was a verie poore man, & tooke great pains for my liuing, & as I walked into the forreſt wt mine Aſſe for to gather wood, hée cryed to mée that I ſhould help him out of the pitte, and ſaue him from death, for there were in ye pit with him thrée venemous beaſts, that is to ſay, a Lyon, an Ape, & a foule Serpent, and then hee promiſed mée by his worde to promote mée and all my kinne to great riches. And whē I heard that, I was glad, & lette downe a long corde vnto him, ſuppoſing to haue drawen him vp, and then I haled vp a Lyon, and after that an Ape, and then a Serpent, and at the laſt your Steward. The Lyon gaue mée ten Aſſes charged with marchandiſe, the Ape gaue mée as much wood as mine Aſſe might beare, and the Serpēt gaue me this ſtone that I haue ſold you, but your ſteward beat mée and wounded mée full ſore for my good déede, that I was borne home vpon myne Aſſe.

When the Emperour heard this, his heart was greatly moued againſte the Steward, wherefore hée examined him of that falſe déed, but he was dome and would not ſpeake, for ſo muche that hée could not deny his falſehood.

Then ſayde the Emperour, O thou wretched creature, vnreaſonable beaſts as the Lyon, the Ape, and the Serpent, rewarded him for his good déede, & thou that arte a reaſonable man haſt almoſt beaten him to death that ſaued thée, and tooke thée out of the pitte, therfore for thy falſehood & wickedneſſe I iudge thée to bee hanged this daye on the gallowes, and all thy goods and landes I graunt to Sir Guy, and alſo I ordayn that Sir Guy ſhall occupy thy place, & bée Steward, and ſo it was done. When Sir Guy was thus rewarded by the Emperour, and made ſteward, hée was well beloued of euery man, as long as hée liued, and at the laſt ended his life with honor and good peace.

The Morall.

This Emperour betokeneth the Father of Heauen, the poore man béetokeneth euery man that commeth into this worlde, féeble and naked from his mothers wombe, and at the laſt is promoted to great riches and worldly honor, as the Pſalmiſt ſaith. De ſtercore erigens pauperem. God lifteth vp the poore man out of the myre, and many ſuch men know neither God, ne themſelefe, but cauſe to make deepe pittes, that is to ſaye, vnkindeneſſe and mallyce they ordaine againſt ſimple menne, in the which pit the diuell cauſeth them oft to fall, according to a text in Eccleſiaſtico. Boueam qui alteri facit, ipſe incidit in eam. That is to ſaye, who maketh a Pyt for an other man, himſelfe falleth therin, which text was well proued by Mardocheus.

This Guy that went dayely to the forreſt with his Aſſe to gather wood betookeneth euery iuſt and godly man, fearing God in the forreſt of this world, the wood that he gathereth b • etokeneth his ſimple meaning to liue • ell, that hee carryeth on his Aſſe, which béetokeneth the bodie of man, wherewith his ſoule may ioye and liue in the ta ••• na-cle of Heauen. And as the Steward, the Lyon, ye Ape, and the Serpent that fell into the Pitte, right ſo when a ſinfull man falleth in the pitte of ſinne. The Lyon of the ſtocke of Iude (that is Jeſu Chriſt) decendeth with him as oftentimes as ye ſinner hath will to come to grace. Therfore ſaith the Pſalmiſt. Cum ipſo ſum in tribulatione. That is to ſaie, I am with him in tribulation. This Guy draweth vp the Lyon, that is to ſay, Jeſu Chriſt out of the pitte by the corde of vertues. Hée drew vp the Ape alſo, that is to ſaye, contrary will to reaſon, that hée might obay to reaſon. For of all manner beaſts ye Ape is moſt lyke to manne, right ſo among all the ſtrengthes of ye ſoule, will ought to bée lykened vnto reaſon, and to obey reaſon. Hee drew vp alſo a Serpent, by the which is vnderſtoode repentaunce, for two cauſes. For the Serpent beareth in his mouth venim, and his tayle is a medicine. Right ſo repentaunce beareth at the beginning bitterneſſe to the doer, neuertheleſſe it is full ſwéete and medicinable vnto the ſoule at the ende, & therfore euery luſt man ſhould draw to him the ſerpent of repentaunce.

And at the laſt hée drew vp the Stewarde from the pyt of ſinne, according to Chriſtes ſaying.

I am not come onely to call the righteous, but ſinners to repentance.

Alſo it is written, that Seneca which taught an Emperour many lawes and vertues of truth, and at the laſt like as this Steward dyd, ſo dyd this Emperour ſeeke the death of his maiſter Seneca.

Alſo Chriſt gaue power to Iudas to worke myracles, like as hée did to other Diſciples, neuertheleſſe hée beetrayed him at the laſt.

Right ſo now a daies bée many children of Beliall which delight more to doe harme thē good, in eſpeciall to them that wou • d inſtruct them perfectly both for the ſoule and for the body.

The Lyon gaue to the iuſt and godly poore man tenne Aſſes charged with marchandiſe, that is to ſaye, our Lord Leſu Chriſt giueth to euery righteous man tenne commaundements charged with vertues, by yt which hée groweth to the riches of heauen.

The Ape alſo gathered him wood as oft as the iuſt man worketh the fruites of faith. For wood voluntaryly is profitable for two thinges, that is to ſaye, to make fire and to builde houſes.

Right ſo perfect charitie heateth the Angell, according to ſcripture ſaying. Quia magis gaudium eſt angelis, &c.

That is to ſay. More ioye is among angelis for one ſinner doeing repentance &c. Charitie alſo reyſeth the houſe of heauen againſt the comming of ye ſoule. The Serpent alſo gaue him a ſtone of thrée diuers coulours: the which betokneth our Lord Jeſu Chriſt, whome wée ſéeke by repentaunce. Therefore ſayth ſaint Ierome in the ſecond table thus. Poſt naufragium eſt penetendum. That is to ſay. We ſhould repent vs after our treſpaſſe. That Chriſt is the ſtone, may be proued by him ſelfe ſaying.

Ego ſum lapis viuus. That is to ſaye I am a liuing ſtone, Chriſt hath three coullours, which betokeneth the power of the father, the wiſdome of the ſonne, and the humilitie of the holy Ghoſt.

Therefore who ſo may get this ſtone, ſhall haue the Empyre of heauen, ioy without ſorrow, plentie without any want, and light without darkeneſſe: Unto which light bring vs our Lorde Jeſu Chriſt that dy • d for all mankinde.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶ By the natiuitie of Chriſt proceedeth ioyfull gladneſſe to the world & ſaluation vnto mankind. Yet man is vnthankfull vnto God contrary to his promiſe made in Baptiſme: we are warned in all worldly tempeſtes to cleaue vnto Chriſt by faith & hope, to continue in well doing and to impugne the mallis of the diuell: the prechers of gods woord are ſent of god to confound the diuell by ſound doctrine and good life, life & death is ſette beefore man, we ought then to choſe that life that may be for our euerlaſting comfort.

The 32. Hiſtorie.

IN Rome dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour named Anſelme, which had wedded the kings daughter of Ieruſalem, a fayre Ladie and a gracious, in the ſight of euery man, but ſhe was long tyme with the Emperour or ſhée bare him any childe, wherefore the Nobles of the Empyre were right ſorowful, becauſe their Lord had none heyre of his bodie begotten. Till at the laſt it befell that this Anſelme walked after ſupper in an euening in his garden, and bethought himſelf how he had none heyre, and how the king of Ampluy warred on him continually for ſo much as hée had no ſonne to make defence in his abſence, wherefore he was right ſorowful and went to his chamber and ſlept. And at the laſt him thought hée ſaw a viſion in his ſléepe, that the morning was more cléerer than it was wont to bée, & that the Moone was much more paller on the one ſyde, than on the other.

And after he ſaw a bird of two colours, and by that byrd ſtood two beaſts which fed that little byrd with their heate. And after that come many • o beaſts, & bowed their breaſts toward the byrd, and went theyr way.

And than came ther diuers byrds that ſoung ſo ſwéetly & pleaſantly that the Emperour awaked. In the morning earely this Anſelme remembred his viſion and wondred much what it might ſignifie, wherefore he called to him his Philoſophers, and alſo the ſtates of his Empyre, and tolde them his dreame, charging them to tell him the ſignification therof vpon paine of death, & if they tolde him the true interpretation therof, he promiſed them great reward.

Then ſayde they. Déere Lorde tell vs your dreame, and wée ſhall declare vnto you what it betokeneth.

Than the Emperour tolde them from the beginning to ye ending as it is afore ſayd. When ye Philoſophers heard this, with glad cheere they anſwered & ſayd. Lord, the dreame that ye ſaw, betokeneth good, for the Empyre ſhall be more clearer than it is.

The Moone that is more pale on the one ſide than on the other, béetokeneth the Empreſſe, that hath loſt part of hir coulour through the concepcion of a ſonne that ſhe hath conceiued. The little byrd betokeneth the ſonne yt ſhée ſhall beare.

The two beaſtes that fedde this bird betokeneth all the wyſe men and riche menne of this Empyre ſhall obey thy ſonne. Theſe other beaſtes that bowed theyr breſtes to the byrde, béetokeneth that many other nations ſhall doe him homage. The Byrd that ſoung ſo ſwéetly to this little Byrd, betokeneth the Romaines, which ſhall reioyce and ſing, bycauſe of his byrth.

Lo this is the verye interpretation of your dreame. When the Emperour heard this, he was right ioyfull. Soone after that the Empreſſe trauailed in childe byrth & was deliuered of a fayre ſonne, in whoſe byrth was great ioye made without ende.

When the king of Ampluy heard this, he thought in himſelfe thus. Loe, I haue warred againſt the Emperour all the dayes of my life, and now hée, hath a ſonne the which will reuenge all thée wronges that I haue done and wrought againſt his Father when hée commeth to full age, therefore it is better that I ſend to the Emperour and beſéech him of trewſe & peace, that his ſonne may haue nothinge againſte mée when he commeth to manhoode. When he had thus ſaid to himſelfe, hée wrote vnto the Emperour, beſéeching him to haue peace. When the Emperour ſaw that the king of Ampluy wrote to him more for feare then for loue, hée wrote againe to him, that if he would finde good and ſufficient ſuertie to kéepe the peace, and bynde himſelfe all the dayes of his lyfe to doe him ſeruice & homage, and to giue him yéerely a certaine trybute, he would receiue him to the peace.

When the king had read the tenour of the Emperours letters, he called his Counſayle, praying them to giue him counſayle how he might beſt doe as touching this matter. Then ſaid they. It is good that ye obey the Emperours will and commaundement in all things.

For in the firſt he deſireth of you ſuerty for the peace, and as to this wée anſwere thus. Yée haue but a daughter, and the Emperour but a ſonne, wherfore lette a marriage be made béetwéen them, and that may bée a perpetuall couenant of the peace. And alſo hée aſketh homage and rents which is good to fulfill. And than the king ſent his meſſengers to the Emperour, ſaying that hée will fulfill his entent in all thing, if it might, pleaſe his highneſſe yt his ſonne and the Kings daughter might bée wedded together. All this pleaſed well the Emperour, neuertheleſſe héeſent again, that if his daughter were a cleane Uirgin from hir byrth vnto that daye, hée would conſent to that marriage. Than was the king right glad, for his daughter was a cleane virgin.

Therefore whan the letters of couenāt & compact were ſealed, the king furniſht a faire ſhip, wherein he might ſend his Daughter with many noble knightes, Ladies, and great riches vnto the Emperour for to haue his ſon in marriage. And whan they were ſayling in the ſea toward Rome, a ſtorme aroſe ſo extremely and ſo horribly that the ſhippe all to braſt againſt a rock of ſtone, and they were all drowned ſaue onely that young lady, which fixt hir hope and hart ſo greatly on God, that ſhe was ſaued. And about thrée of the clocke the tempeſt ceaſed, and the Lady droue foorth ouer the waues in that broken ſhippe which was caſt vp agine, but an huge whale folowed after, ready to deuoure both the ſhippe and hir, wherefore this fayre young Lady whan night came ſhée ſmote fyre with a ſtone, wherewith the ſhippe was greatly lightened, and than the whale durſt not aduenture toward the ſhippe for feare of the light. At the cocke crowing this young Lady was ſo weary of the great tempeſt and trouble of the ſea, that ſhe ſlept and within a little while after the fire ſurceaſed, and with that came the whale and deuoured this virgin.

And when ſhée wakened and found hir ſelfe ſwallowed vp in the whales belly, ſhe ſmot fire, & within a little while ſhée wounded the Whale with a knife in many places, and when the Whale felt himſelfe wounded, according to his nature béegan to ſwim to land.

There was that time dwelling in that coūtry an Earle that was a noble man named Pyrris, the which for his recreation walked by the Sea ſhore, and as hée was walking thus, hée ſaw where as the Whale was comming toward that lande, wherefore hée turned home againe, gathered many ſtrong men and women and came thether againe, and fought with this Whale, and wounded him ſore, & as they ſmote, the Mayden that was in his belly cried with an high voice and ſayd.

O gentle friends haue mercy and compaſſiō on me, for I am a knights daughter and a true virgine from ye houre of my byrth vnto this daye. When the Earle heard this hée wondred greatly, and opened the ſide of the Whale and founde the young Lady, and tooke hir out. And when ſhe was thus deliuered, ſhée told him foorthwith whoſe daughter ſhée was, and how ſhée had loſt all his goods in ye ſea, and how ſhée ſhould haue bene married vnto the Emperours ſon. And when ye Earle heard this ſhée was right glad, wherefore hée comforted hir the more, and kept hir ſtill with him till ſhée was well refreſhed. And in the meane time hee ſent meſſengers to the Emperour, letting him to wit how this knights daughter was ſaued. Then was the Emperour right glad of hir ſauety and comming, & had great compaſſion on hir, ſaying: A good Mayde for the loue of my ſonne thou haſt ſuffered much woe, neuertheleſſe if thou be worthy to be his wife ſoone ſhal I proue. And when he had thus ſayd, hée let bring foorth thrée veſſells, the firſt was made of pure Gold well béeſette with precious ſtones without and within, full of dead mens bones, and therevpon was engrauen this poſey. Who ſo chooſeth mee ſhall finde that he deſerueth.

The ſecond veſſell was made of fyne ſiluer, fylled with earth and wormes, and the ſuperſcription was thus.

Who ſo chooſeth me ſhall ſinde that his nature deſireth. The third veſſell was made of Lead, full within of precious ſtones, and therevpon was inſculpt this poſey. Who ſo chooſeth mee, ſhall finde that God hath diſpoſed for him.

Theſe thrée veſſells the Emperour ſhewed to the Mayden and layde. Loe here daughter, theſe bée noble veſſells, if thou chooſe one of theſe wherin is profit to thée and to other thē ſhalt thou haue my ſon. And if thou chooſe that wherin is no profit to thée nor to none other, ſothly thou ſhalt not wed him.

When the Mayden ſaw this, ſhèe lift vp hir hands to God and ſayde. Thou Lord which knoweſt all things, graunt mée grace this houre ſo to chooſe, that I may receiue the Emperours ſonne. And with yt ſhée beeheld the firſt veſſell of gold which was grauen royally, & reade this ſuperſcription. Who ſo chooſeth mee. &c. ſaying thus. Though this veſſel be full precious and made of pure gold, neuertheleſſe know not I what is with in, therefore my déere Lord this veſſell will I not chooſe.

And then behelde ſhée the ſecond veſſell that was of pure ſiluer, and reade the ſuperſcription, who ſo chooſeth me, ſhall finde that his nature deſireth. Thinkeing thus within hir ſelfe, if I chooſe this veſſell, what is within I know not, but well I wot there ſhall I finde that anture deſireth, & my nature deſireth the luſt of the fleſh, and therefore this veſſell will I not chooſe.

When ſhe had ſeene thoſe two veſſells, & giuen an anſwere as touching two of thē, ſhée béeheld the third veſſell of lead, & read the ſuperſcription, who ſo chooſeth me, ſhall finde that God hath diſpoſed. Thinking within hir ſelfe this veſſell is not paſſing riche, ne thorowly precious, neuertheleſſe the ſuperſcription ſaith, who ſo chooſeth mée, ſhall finde that God hath diſpoſed, & without doubt God neuer diſpoſed any harme, therefore as now I will chooſe this veſſell, by the leaue of God.

When the Emperour ſaw this, he ſaid, O good Mayden, open thy veſſell, for it is full of precious Stones, and ſée if thou haſt well choſen or no. And when this yong Lady had opened it, ſhe found it full of fine gold and precious ſtones, lyke as the Emperour had foretold hir béefore.

And than ſayd the Emperour, O my déere daughter, becauſe thou haſt wiſely choſen, therefore ſhalt thou wed my ſonne. And when he had ſo ſaid, he ordained a marriage, and wedded them together with great ſolempnitie, & much honour, and ſo continued to theyr liues ende.

The Argument.

¶Manne by Baptiſme promiſeth to liue in the feare of God, and forſake the diuell. Chriſte ſorroweth for our ſinnes, he requireth dutifull ſeruice of vs at vi. ſeuerall ages, but we are alwayes vnreadie for him, yet the mercie of God is ſo fauorable towards vs that hee ſpareth vs euen till the laſt age of manne, vouchſafing if than wee repent vs and call for grace, beleuing in his mercies, he will receiue vs into the throne of his heauenlye grace. &c.

The 33. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime in Rome there dwelt a mightie Emperour named Calopo du, which tooke a fayre ladie to his wife, they were not long together but that this Empreſſe conceiued & bare him a ſonne, a goodly childe and a fayre, when he was of age, he was ſet to ſchole. And when he came to twenty yéeres of age, he deſired his Fathers heritage, ſaying. Déere father, ye are an olde man & may not gouerne your Empyre, therefore if it pleaſe you to giue it mée, it ſhall be to your profit. Then aunſwered the Emperour and ſayde. Déere ſonne, I dread mée ſore that when the Empyre is in thy power thou wilt not fulfill my will ne my deſire.

Then aunſwered the Empreſſe (for ſo much as ſhe loued hir ſonne better than hir huſband) and ſayd. My Lord quod ſhée that may not bée, for thou haſt but one ſonne, therefore as I beléeue he wil fulfill thine entent in all thing, this Empyre may help him well, and therefore it is not beſt to graūt him the Empire. Then anſwered the Emperour & ſayd. I will firſt haue of him a letter obligatory, that whē ſo euer he doth any thing againſt my will, that than I ſhall depriue him of the Empyre without any withſtanding.

The ſonne graunted to this, and let make the obligation, and ſealed it. And when this was done, this yong Emperour waxed ſo proud, that he feared neither God nor man, and dyd very much harme. But euer his father ſuffered it paciently, for he would not be corrected by no man. Till at the laſt there fell a great dearth in ye Empyre, ſo that many men dyed for want of foode. This olde Emperour was all alone himſelfe and began to haue néede, wherfore hée went to his ſonne for to haue ſome ſubſtance, which his ſonne graunted and ſuffered for a tyme.

But within ſhort time his father began to waxe ſicke, wherefore hee called his ſonne, and prayed to him to giue him • draught of muſt. His ſonne anſwered and ſaide. That will I not doe, for my muſt is not good for your complection. Than ſayd the Emperour, I pray thée ſonne giue mée a draught of thy wine. His ſonne anſwered and ſayde, that hee ſhould haue none, for my wyne is not yet fined, & if I touch it, it will trouble, & therfore I will not broch it till it bée cléere and fined. Then ſayde his father. Giue mée ſome of the ſecond tonne.

That will I not doe, quod he, for ye wine is paſſing mightie & ſtrong, & ſuch wine is not good for a ſick man. Than his father praied him hartely for a draught of the fourth tonne. Than anſwered hée and ſayde, thereof get ye none, for it is féeble and without any ſuſtentacion, & ſuch wyne is not good for you, for it is not comfortable.

Than ſaid his father, now good ſonne giue mee thā of the fift tonne. That wil I not quod hée, for that tonne is full of • ées or dregges, and ſuch is not for men nor vnnethes for hoggs. When his father ſaw he might get nothing of him, & after was as whole as euer he was, than went he to the king of Hieruſalem and made his complaint of his ſonne, & ſhewed him the letter obligatory which his ſonne had made, wherefore his father might put him out of the Empyre without any withſaying. Whan the king heard this, he called ye Emperours ſonne to aunſwere his father. And whē he came he could not aunſwere to his father with no reaſon, wherefore the king put him from his Empyre, & ſeaſoned his father therein againe, and ſo he contineued all the dayes of his life.

The Argument.

¶ Man beeing captiued by ſathan, the worlde refuſeth to doe for him: till the godhead of the heauenly Father, bearing an earneſt affection vnto him dyd eſpouſe him and imbrace him within the boſome of inward and entyer loue, aduentured what he might to ſet mankinde at libertie, yet grudgeth the world that we ſhould alway ſerue our God and forſake the world therfore to eſchew all the ſnares therof, wee are taught in this hiſtory.

The 34. Hiſtory.

IN Rome dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour named Antony, vnder whoſe raigne the Rouers on the Sea hadde taken priſoner a mightie mans ſonne of an other Region, and brought him to the Emperours priſon, beeing bound. When this young man was thus in priſon, hee incontinent wrote to his father for his raunſome, but his father would no raunſome paye, ne none other thing ſend to comfort him.

This when his ſonne heard hée wept ſore and might not be comforted for the vnkindneſſe of his father.

This Emperour had a fayre daughter which viſited euery day this priſoner, & comforted him as much as ſhée might. To whome the priſoner anſwered and ſayde. How ſhall I bée merry, or how may I ioye, thus for to lye faſt bounde in priſon from the ſight of man, and not withſtanding this, it gréeueth me more that my father will not pay my raunſome.

When this mayden heard this, ſhée was moued with pittie, and ſaid. Deere friend, I am ſory for thee, neuertheleſſe, if thou wilt graunt mee one thing, I ſhall deliuer thée from this anguiſh, and paine. What thing is that quod hee.

That thou wilt take mée to thy wyfe.

Then ſaide the priſoner, I promiſe you ſurely to fulfill your intent and deſire, and for the more aſſurance I plight you my troth.

When hée had ſo done, it was not long after the Damoſell deliuered him out of priſon, & fled away with him home to his fathers houſe. When the father ſaw his ſonne and ye Mayden together he aſked the cauſe why hee brought the Mayden with him.

Then ſayd his ſonne. Sir, this Damoſell deliuered mee out of priſon, & therfore ſhée ſhall bee my wyfe. Then ſaid his father, I will not conſent that ſhée ſhall bée thy Wife, for two reaſonable cauſes, which I ſhall foorthwith ſhew thée.

The firſt is this, it is not vnknowen to thée that the Emperour hir Father might haue hadde for thy deliueraunce great foyſon of riches, and for as much as ſhe was vntrue to hir owne Father and true to thée, it ſéemeth well yt thou ſhouldſt not truſt long in hir, for who is falſe to hir owne Father, by reaſon ſhould bée verye falſe and vntrue to an other manne. The ſecond reaſon is this. The cauſe why ſhee deliuered thée out of priſon, it was neithar for pittie nor for loue, but for carnall luſt that ſhée had to thée. For at thy deliueraunce ſhe made couenaunt with thée to be thy wife, and had of thée thy troth, & therfore ſonne (ſaith hée) it is not rea • on yt ſhée ſhould bee thy wife. The Maiden anſwered to this queſtion and ſaide.

As for the firſt reaſon that thou layeſt againſt mee that I ſhould bée vntrue to my father, that is falfe, for my father hath plentye of riches, and thy ſonne is but poore, and therfore I holpe him for pittie, and for none other cauſe, and neuertheleſſe thou that art his father wold not pay his raūſome that hée myght bée deliuered out of priſon.

Loe for this cauſe I haue deliuered him therefore I am kinder to him then thou that art his owne father, and he is more béeholding to mee then to thée.

Unto that other reaſon, whereas thou ſayeſt that I deliuered him béecauſe of carnall luſt. I anſwere and ſay playnely that it is no troth.

For all manor of carnall loue is cauſe of ſtrength or elſe of fairneſſe, but thy ſon is not ſtrong, for his impriſonment haue done away his ſtrength.

Hée is not fayre, for by the payne that hee hath had in priſon he is brought low and vnlully to the ſight, and therefore pittie onely moued mee to deliuer him and not carnall luſt.

Then ſayd the ſonne vnto his father.

Déere Father for as much as I was in perill of death, and wrot vnto thee that thou woldeſt pay my raunſome that I might bée deliuered, and thou wouldeſt not help mee, but this Damoſell of hir gentilneſſe and for pittie hath ſaued me from death, and deliuered mee out of priſon, and therefore sothly ſhée ſhall bee my Wyfe, therfore foorthwith hée marryed hir with great honour, & with hir ended his lyfe.

The Argument.

¶ It is the ordinance of God that no man ſhall labour for worldly promotion by couetouſneſle▪ and falsehood. Man for his firſt tranſgreſsion ſhould haue bene adiudged to perpetual torment in hell, had not the ſonne of god voluntarily offered him ſelfe to the death, to ſaue mankinde and deſtroy ſathan • is enimie, ſo that thereby he might place him in the habitacle of heauenly ioyes euerlaſting.

The 35. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime in Rome there dwelt a noble Emperour of great liuelood named Alexander, the which aboue all vertues loued the vertue of bountie, wherefore hée ordained a law for great curioſitie, that no name vnder p • yne of Death ſhould turne a Playce in his diſhe, at his meate, but onely eate the whyte ſayde and not the black, and if any man would attempt to doe the contrary, he ſhould dye without remedie, but or he died he ſhold aſke thrée requeſts of the Emperour what him lyſt, (except his lyfe) which ſhould be graunted him.

It befell after on a day that ther came an Earle & his ſonne of a ſtrange coū trie to ſpeake with the Emperour.

And when this Earle was ſet to meat, hée was ſerued with a Playce, and hée which was hungry and had an appetite to his meate, after he had eaten ye white ſyde, hée turned the black ſide and béegan to eate thereof, wherfore ſtraight way hée was accuſed to the Emperour, béecauſe hée hadde offended againſt the law.

Than ſayd the Emperour. Let him dye according to the law, without any delay. When the Earles ſonne heard that his father ſhould dye, immediately he ſate him down on both his knées beefore the Emperour and ſayd. O my reuerend Lord, for his loue that dyed vppon the croſſe, let me dye for my father, Than ſayd the Emperour.

It pleaſeth mée well that one dye for the offence of the law.

Then ſayd this Earles ſonne, ſith it is ſo that I ſhall dye, I aſke the benefits of the law, that is to ſaye, that I may haue three petitions graunted, or I dye. The Emperour anſwered and ſayde, aſke what thou wilt, there ſhal no man ſay thée nay.

Than ſayd this young knight. My Lord, ye haue but one daughter yt which I deſire of your highneſſe that ſhe may lye with mée a night or I dye. The Emperour granted, though it were againſt his will in fulfilling of his law.

Heuertheleſſe this knight deflowred hir not as that night. Therfore pleaſed hee greatly the Emperour. The ſecond peticion is this, I aſke all thy treaſure. And immediately the Emperour graū ted bicauſe he ſhold not be called a breaker of his owne law▪

And when this Earles ſonne had receiued the Emperours treaſure, he imparted it both to poore and rich, by meanes whereof he obtained their good wills.

My third petition is this, I aſke my Lord that all the eyes may be put out incontinent which ſawe my father eating of the blacke plaice. Wherefore the Emperour let make inquiſition immediately who it was that ſaw the Earle turne the black Plaice. And they that ſaw him turne the playce bethought thē & ſaid within themſelues. If we knowledge that we ſaw him do this treſpaſſe than ſhall our eies be put out, and therfore it is better that wée hold vs ſtill. And ſo ther was none found that would accuſe him. Whan the Earles ſonne ſaw this he ſaid to the Emperour. My Lord quod he, yée ſee that there is no man accuſeth my father, therfore giue ye right full iudgement. Than ſaide the Emperour. For as much that no man will knowledge that they ſaw him turne the place, therefore I will not that thy father ſhall dye.

Loe thus the ſonne ſaued his fathers lyfe, and after the deceaſe of the Emperour married his daughter.

The Morall

Déere friends, this Emperour betokneth the father of heauen, which ordained a law, that no man ſhould furne the black ſide of the Plaice, that is to ſaye, there ſhould no man labour for riches or promotion by couetouſneſſe and falſehood.

The Earle that came to the Emperour betokeneth Adam our fore father, which came out of the lande of Eden, to the Court of Paradiſe, & turned vp the black ſide of the Plaice when he eate of the Apple, wherefore he ſhould haue bene condempned to euerlaſting death.

But his ſonne, that betokeneth our lord Jeſu Chriſt: For he tooke ſleſh of Adam, and profered himſelfe voluntarily to dye for him. The Father of Heauen graunted that hée ſhould goe dwone to dye for mankinde.

Neuertheleſſe or he dyed he aſked thrée petitious of his father of heauen. The firſt was this, that hée might haue by him his daughter which betokeneth the Soule of man, and bring hir with him into the boſome of heauen, according to the wordes of Oſee ſaying.

De ſponſabo cam mihi. That is to ſaye, I ſhall wed hir to my wife.

The ſecond petition was this, all the Emperours treaſure, which betokeneth the treaſure of heauen, according to this ſcripture. Sicut diſpoſuit mihi pater.

That is to ſay, like as my father hath diſpoſed for mee, ſo I diſpoſe for you.

The third petition was this, that all their eyes ſhould be put out, that is to ſay, that the diuell which dayly accuſeth man might be put from the light of heauenly grace.

And thus ſaued he mankinde and led him vp with him vnto the Pallayes of heauen. Unto the which pallayes bring vs our Lord Jeſus.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶ The Father of Heauen of his meere grace promotith ſome poore men, raiſing them from the duſt to ſit amongſt Princes.

But extolling themſelues without regard of gods goodneſſe, they are made abiects vnto him, the diuell worketh deceipt in his members▪ againſt the godly. Chriſt came downe from heauen to miniſter the water of eternall life vnto man, and by his death and paſsion to re • i • e our ſoules, (which before were dead) vnto the firme ſtate of eternall felicitie.

The 36. Hiſtory.

IN Rome there dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour named Le m •• us, which on a day rode to a forreſt to diſport him, where as he mette ſodainly with a poore man to whome he ſayd▪ thus▪ Friend whence commeſt thou, and who art thou.

My Lord quod he, I come from the next Cittie, and your manne I am. Than ſayde the Emperour, thou ſéemeſt poore, therefore if thou wilt be good and true I ſhall promote thee to great riches and honour.

Then anſwered the poore man & ſayd. My Lord I promiſe you faithfully to bée true to you as long as I liue.

The Emperour anon made him knight and gaue him great riches. When hée was thus promoted, hee waxed ſo proud that hee thought himſelfe more able to bée an Emperour then his Lord, wherfore he made ſuggeſtion to diuerrſe lords of that Empyre that hee might vſ • rpe and take vpon him through ſtrength of them to bee Emperour. When the Emperour heard this, anone hee exiled him and all thoſe that were conſenting to him, ſo that they liued abiects in great wretchedneſſe and ſrrow, and then the Emperour ordained other men in their ſtéedes, and gaue them all ye poſſeſſions of the traytors.

And when the baniſhed men heard that ſtraungers had taken poſſeſſion of their lands and goods, anone they conſpyred againſt them, and through treaſon requeſted them to a banquet.

And they as 〈◊〉 thinking vppon no ſuch treaſon, came at the day aſſigned and were ſerued with • iu • ••• ſ • s, which were poyſoned, wherfore as many as taſted of that vice dyed incontinent.

When the Emperour heard this, he was greatly moued, and aſſembled his counſell, to wit what was beſt to be don of this treaſon & of their death. Then ſaid the Emperours ſonne. My Lord I am your ſonne, & yée bee my Father, & therfore I ſhall giue you good counſell and profitable to all men.

Not far hence is a little nation wherin dwelleth a fayre Mayden and a gracious in the ſight of euery man, which hath an orchard wherein is a well, the water therof hath ſuch vertue, that if it be caſt vpon a dead man, ſtraight way he ſhall liue againe and recouer his life. Therefore my • ord I ſhall deſcende vnto that nation and ſeeke that water whereby they that were ſlayne at the Banquet might bée reſtored againe to lyfe. And when the Emperour heard this, he was greatly reioyced and ſayde. Sonne, thy counſell is good. And ſtraight way the Emperours ſonne went into the ſaide nation, and fell inconceit with the Mayden, in ſo much that hée entred in the garden and aſſayled to taſt the water of the well. And when hee had ſo done, he made fiue déepe trenches in the ground, in the which the water ranne till it came where the dead men lay buried, thervpon when the water touched them, they aroſe from death to life.

Then the Emperours ſonne led them vnto his Father. And when the Emperour ſaw this, hée was right ioyefull, wherfore hee crowned his ſonne with a Laurate crowne, in tooken of victorie, & ſo ended his life in reſt and peace.

The Argument.

¶ The Father of heauen extendeth his goodneſſe diuers waies towards frail man, yet hee taking contrarie waies, liueth in ſpirituall fornication, for the which being exiled from the ſtate of felicitie, he is cōpelled to leade a miſerable and painefull life. But beeing reconciled by the death of his ſauiour, he poſſeſſeth the heritage of heauenly felicitie.

The 37. Hiſtory.

SOmetime in Rome there raigned a mighty emperor named Dunſtain in whoſe Empyre there dwelt a gentill Knight, that had two ſonnes. One of his ſonne matched himſelfe againſt his fathers will with a common harlotte. The knight hearing this, exyled his ſon from him. And when he was thus exiled, he begot on this woman a ſonne. And ſoone after that he wared ſicke and in penury, wherfore he ſent meſſengers to his father, beſeching him of his mercie. This hearing his father, had compaſſion and ruth on him wherfore he was reconciled

And when hée was thus brought againe to his fathers grace, hee gaue his chtide which he hadde gotten tofore on this common woman to his father. And he full kindely receiued it as his ſonne, and nouriſhed it.

When his other ſonne heard this, he ſaid to his father, father quod hee, it ſéemeth to mée that thou arte out of thy right minde, which I will proue by this reaſon. For hée is out of his righte minde, that receiueth a ſalſe heare and nouriſheth him, whoſe Father hath endomage and diſeaſe toſore.

For my brother which begat this childe haue done thée great iniury when hée marryed the common woman againſt thy will and commaundement, therefore me ſéemeth that thou art out of thy right minde.

Then anſwered the father and ſayde. Bicauſe thy brother is reconciled thou art enuious to mée, and alſo vnkinde to thy nowne brother, willing to put him from my felowſhippe for euermore, and ſothly no vnkinde man ſhall haue mine heritage except he be reconciled.

But yet thou neuer reconciledſt to him of his vnkindeneſſe, for thou mighteſt haue reconciled him, but thou woldeſt not, therefore of mine heritage getteſt thou no part.

The Argument.

¶ we ought in euery vocation and calling to beehaue our ſelues iuſtly and to vſe the poore man with equite, we muſt not iniury the rich man.

The mightie men are to be honoured and not defrauded of their dignitie & eſtate being men of cinceare life: they that did contrary to the meaning of dutifull behofe heerin are worthie of euerlaſting death.

The 38. Hiſtorie.

SOmetime there dwelt in Rome a mighty Emperour named Donate, which dyd let make thrée Images of the which one held out his hand ſtraight vnto the people and had on his finger a ring of Gold.

The ſecond Image had a beard of gold. And the third had a mantell of Purple, commaunding vpon paine of death that no man ſhould beare theſe Images of the ring, the beard, nor the mantell. It befell afterward vppon a time that one Dyoniſe tyrant, came into the temple and toke away ye ring from the firſt Image, the beard from the ſecond, and the mantell from the third. And when he had thus done, he was foorthwith accuſed vnto the Emperour and brought before him, and ſtraightly examined of that treſpaſſe, why hée diſpoyled the Images againſt the Emperours commaundement. Than aunſwered Dioniſe and ſaid as followeth.

My Lord it is lawfull to anſwere for mée, when I entred into the Temple, the firſt Image held foorth his hand ſtraight to mee, as who would ſaye, I giue thee this ring, and therefore I toke the ring at the guift of the Image, béeing loth to refuſe his gentle offer.

And when I law the ſecond Image hauing a beard, I thought thus with in my ſelfe.

I knew ſometyme the father of this Image which had no bearde, and now his ſonne hath a beard which is againſt reaſon, the ſonne to haue a bearde and the father none, and therefore I tooke from him his bearde, that he ſhould bée like his father.

After that whan I ſaw the third Image clothed in a mantell of Golde, I thought that a mantell of gold was not behoueable to him in winter, for gold is naturally colde, which might be cauſe of his death, and therefore I tooke it from him bicauſe it was to colde in winter, & to hotte in ſommer. When Dioniſe had excuſed him by theſe reaſons, the Emperour anſwered and ſaid. Thou haſt anſwered wickedly for thy ſelfe, what ſhold cauſe thée rather than any other man to diſpoyle theſe Images, for as much as I commaunded that no man ſhould take any thing away from them, & thine owne mouth hath condempned thée. Anone the Emperour called to him one of his Squires, and charged him to ſmyte of his head, and ſo it was done.

The Argument.

¶ Man ought to nouriſh Chriſt in his hart by faith and fruits of good lyfe The reward of ſuch as haue care vppon the conſeruation of Chriſt & his inſtitutions, we muſt watch leaſt wee enter into temptation, theſe thinges concidered; we ſhall then by gods gracious good prouidence, at • ayne vnto the reward of his heauenly and euerlaſting bliſſe.

The 39. Hiſtorie.

THere dwelt ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour named Euas, which had a fayre yong Lady to his wife, vpon whome he had begotten a fayre ſonne. Whan the ſtates of the empyre heard this, they came vnto the Emperour & beſought him to haue the keepeing of his ſonne.

Immediately the Emperour ſent a Herould throughout the citie, proclaiming that in whoſe houſe were firſte founde fyre and water, the good manne of that houſe ſhould haue his ſonne in kéeping, and to nouriſh. And than the emperour made a proclamacion, that who ſo euer had his ſonne to kéepe, ſhould nouriſh him cleanly, & féede him with wholeſom meats and drinckes. And when the childe came to age, than ſhould the keeper be promoted to great honor, wherefore many men let make redy fire and water, in hope to haue the childe. But on the night when euery manne was a ſléepe, there came a tyrant named Sulapius, that quenched the fire and threw out the water.

Neuertheleſſe among all other there was a man named Ionathas, that laboured ſo diligently that hée kept both day and night fire and water. In a morning earely the Herauld at the Emperours commaundement went through the Citie and ſought in euery houſe for Fyre and Water, but hée could finde none tyll hee came to Ionathas houſe, where as hée founde both Fyre and Water readie, wherefore hee was brought béefore the Emperour, and deliuered him his ſonne according to his proclamacion. When Ionathas had the Emperours ſonne, he led him home vnto his houſe.

And ſoone after he ſent for maſons and carpēters, & let make a ſtrong chamber of lyme and ſtone. And when the chamber was made, he ſent for painters and let paint on the wall within the chamber x. Images, with this poſey paynted aboue their heads.

Who ſo defileth theſe Images, ſhall dye a cruell death.

And than he lette draw on the dore agallous, & figure of a man hanging thervpon, with this poſey paynted aboue his head. So ſhal he be ſerued that nourſheth the Emperours ſonne amiſſe.

Alſo he lette make a chaire of golde, & himſelfe ſitting therein, crowned with a crowne of golde, with this ſuperſcription aboue his head.

Who ſo nouriſheth the Emperours ſonne cleanly, thus ſhal he be honoured.

Whan this was done, often tymes as hée was a ſléepe hée was greatly tempted to defyle theſe ten excelent Images, but anone hée reade the ſuperſcription aboue their heads, & than all the temptations ceaſed. And when the Emperours ſonne was euill kept, than went he to the gallows and read that poſey which was writtē aboue his own head, and for dread thereof kept the child better, and was diligent to giue attendāce on him.

And when he beheld the chayre and himſelfe ſitting therein crowned with a crowne of golde, hée was right ioyfull, thinking to haue a good reward for keeking of the Emperours ſonne. Whan the Emperour heard of his diligent demeanour aboute his ſonne, hée ſent for him and for his ſonne, thanking him for his well keeping and nouriſhing of him, and after promoted him to great honor and worſhip.

The Morall.

This Emperour betokeneth the father of heauen. The Empreſſe béetokeneth the bleſſed virgin Mary.

The Emperours ſonne betokeneth our Lord Jeſu Chriſt. The Herauld that was ſent throughout the Citie betokeneth ſaint Iohn Baptiſt, which was ſent before our Lord, to prepare the way for him, according to holy ſcripture. Ecce mitto Angelum, &c. Loe I ſende myne aungell before mée &c. The ſtates that deſired the Emperours ſonne to nouriſh beetoken ye Patriarkes and Prophets, which deſired greatly to nouriſh our Lord Jeſu Chriſt, and alſo to ſee him, but they might not ſee him ne nouriſh him, for fyre and water which ſhould haue béene cauſe of their ſight, was not with them perfectly.

The fyre betokeneth the holy Ghoſt, which had not yet appered in them, for they were not waſhed with the water of Baptiſme. Alſo yée may vnderſtand by the fyre perfect charitie, and by the water true contricion, which two now a daies faileth in many men, and therfore they may not haue the little childe Jeſus in their hearts.

Ionathas that watched ſo diligently betokeneth euery good Chriſtian man, which ſtudieth euer to watch in well doeing, yéelding to GOD for ſinnes the fyre of charitable repentaunce, & the watter of contrition.

But oftentimes the tyrant which béetokeneth the diuell, putteth out the fire of charitie from out of mens harts and caſteth out the water of contrition, ſo that they may not nouriſhe the little childe Jeſus. Therefore lette vs watch as lonathas dyd, that w • e enter not into temptation. And call wee vnto vs Maſons, that is to ſaye, deſcrete Preachers, which can make in our hartes a chamber of ſtone, that is to ſay, a ſure Faith and hope. Than call wée to vs Painters, that is to ſaye, miniſters of Gods word, which canne painte in our harts ten Images, that is to ſay, the x. commaundements, which if thou kéepe and obſerue dayly, without doubt thou ſhalt bée honoured in heauen.

And if thou kéepe well the Emperours ſonne, thou ſhalt ſit in a chayre of Gold, crowned with a crowne of Gold. And if that thou nouriſh him not well, without doubt thou ſhalt bée in daunger of torment in hell. From the which preſerue vs our bleſſed Sauiour Jeſus.

Amen.

The Argument.

¶The ſoule of man eſpouſed vnto Chriſt the fleſh procureth the ſame to ſinne. The Chriſtian ſoule by faith withſtan death temptation. The redemption of mankinde from ſinne & death. The deceits of vnthankfull heartes. The ſpirit healeth the defectes of the fleſh, after a pure repentaunce followeth perpetuall ioye and felicitie, both of ſoule and body.

The 40. Hiſtory.

IN Rome dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour named Menaly, which had wedded the Kinges daughter of Hungary, a fayre Lady and a gracious in all hir woorkes, and ſpecially ſhée was mercifull. On a tyme as the Emperour lay in his bed, hée bée thought him that hée would go • viſit • e ye holy lande. And on ye morrow he called to him the Empriſſe his wife and his owne onely brother, and thus he ſayde. Deere Lady I may not ne I will not hide from you the priuities of my heart, I purpoſe to viſit the holy land, wherefore I ordaine thee principally to be Lady & gouernour ouer all mine Empyre and all my people. And vnder thee I ordaine héere my brother to be thy ſteward for to prouide all things that may bée profitable to mine Empyre and to my people.

Then ſaid the Empriſſe. Sith it will none otherwiſe bee but ye needs yée will goe to viſit the Citie Ieruſalem, I ſhall bee in your abſence as true as any turtle that hath loſt hir mate, for as I beeléeue, yée ſhall not eſcape thence with your life.

The Emperour anone comforted hir with faire words and kiſſed hir, and after that tooke his leaue of hir and of all other, and ſo went foorth vnto the citie of Ieruſalem.

And anone after yt the Emperour was gone, his brother became ſo proude, yt he oppreſſed poore men & robbed rich men, and yet did he worſe thē this, for dayly he ſtirred the Empriſſe to commit ſinne with him. But euer ſhe anſwered again as an holy and deuout woman, & ſaide. I will quod ſhee, neuer conſent to you ne to none other, as long as my Lord liueth. Neuertheleſſe this knight would not leaue with this anſwere, but euer when he founde hir alone hee made his complaint to hir, and ſtirred hir by all the wayes that hee could to ſinne with him. When this Ladie ſawe that he would not ceaſe for no anſwer ne wold not amend himſelfe, when ſhée ſawe hir tyme ſhée called to hir three or foure of the worthieſt men of the Empyre and ſayd to them thus. It is not vnknowen to you that my Lord the Emperour ordained mee principal gouernour of this Empyre, & alſo he ordained his brother to bee ſteward vnder mee, and that hée ſhould doe nothing without my counſel, but he doth all the contrary, for he oppreſſeth greatly poore men, and likewi • e robbeth the rich men, and yet he would doe worſe then this, if hee might haue his entent, wherefore I commaund you in my Lords name that you binde him faſt and caſt him in priſon.

Than ſaid they, ſothly he hath done many euill déedes ſith our Lord themperor w • nt, therfore we be redy to obay your commaundement, but in this matter ye muſt aunſwere for vs to our Lord the Emperour. Than ſaid ſhe, dread ye not, if my Lord knew what he hath done as well as I, he would put him to the fouleſt death that could be thought. Immediately theſe men ſette hand on him and bound him faſt with yron chaines, and put him faſt in priſon, where as he lay long tyme a • ter, till at the laſt if fortuned there came tydings that the Emperour was comming home, and had obtained great worſhip and victory. When his brother heard of his comming, hée ſaid: Would to God my brother might find mée in priſon, for than would he enquire the cauſe of myne enpriſonment of ye Empriſſe, & ſhe will tell him all the trouth, and how I procured hir to commit ſinne, & ſo for hir I ſhall haue no fauour of my Brother, but looſe my lyfe, this know I well, therefore it ſhall not bée ſo. Then ſent hée a meſſenger vnto the Empriſſee, praying hir for chriſtes paſſion that ſhee would vouchſafe to come vnto the pryſon dore, that he might ſpeake a word or two with hir. The Empriſſe came to him, and enquired of him what hee would haue. Hee anſwered and ſayde.

O lady haue mercy vpon mée, for if the Emperour my brother finde mée in this priſon, then ſhall I die without any remedy. Then ſaid ye Empriſſe, if I might konw that thou wouldeſt be a good man and leaue thy folly, thou ſhouldeſt haue grace. Then dyd hée promiſe hir aſſuredlie to bee true and to amend all his treſpaſſe. When hee had thus promiſed, the Empriſſe deliuered him anon, and made him to be bathed and ſhauen, and apparelled him worſhipfully according to his eſtate, and then ſhée ſaid vnto him thus. Now good brother take thy stéede and come with mée, that wee may méete my Lord. Hée anſwered and ſayd, Lady I am redy to fulfil your will & commaundement in all things. And than the Empreſſe toke him with hir and many other knights, and ſo rod foorth to mee • with the Emperour, and as they rode together by the way, they ſawe where a great hart ranne afore them, wherefore euery man with ſuch hounds as they had chaſed him on horſe backe, ſo that with the Empreſſe was left no creature, ſaue onely the Emperours brother, which ſeeing that no man was there but they two, thus hee ſaide vnto the Empreſſe.

Loe Lady, heere beſide is a priuie forreſt, and long it is agone that I ſpake to thée of Loue, come now and conſent vnto mee that I may lye with thee.

Then ſayde the Empreſſe a foole what may this bee, yeſterday I deliuered thée out of priſon vpon thy promiſe, in hope of amendement, and now thou art reto • rned to thy folly againe, wherfore I ſaye now to thée as I haue ſayde before, there ſhall no man doe ſuch thing with me ſaue onely my Lorde the Emperour, which ought of very duty ſo for •• doe. Then ſayde • ee, if thou wilt not conſent to mée, I ſhall hang thée héere vpon a trée in this Forreſt, where no man ſhall finde thée & ſo ſhalt thou dye an euill death. The Empreſſe aunſwered méekely and ſayde. Though thou ſmite of my head and put mée to death with all maner of torment, thou ſhalt neuer haue mee to conſent to ſuch ſinne. When hee heard this, hée vnciothed hir all ſaue hir ſmock, and hanged hir vp by the haire vpon a trée, & tyed hir ſtéede beſide hir, and ſo rode foorth to his fellowes, and tolde them that a great hoaſt of men met him, and tooke the Empreſſe away from him. And whē he hadde tolde them this they made all great ſorrow.

It befell on the third day after there came an Earle to hunt in that Forreſt, and as he rode beating the barks, there ſtarted a Foxe, whome his hounds followed faſt till they came néere the trée where the Empreſſe hanged.

And when the dogges felt the ſauour of hir, they left the Fore and ranne towarde the Trée as faſt as they could. The Earle ſéeing this wondred greatly and ſpurred his horſe and folowed them till he came wher as ye Empreſſe hanged. Whan the Earle • aw hir thus hanging, he maruailed greatly, for as much as ſhe was right fayre and gracious to behold, wherefore he ſayde vnto hir in this manner wiſe. O woman who art thou, and of what countrie, and wherefore hangeſt thou héere in this manner wiſe.

The Empriſſe that was not yet fully dead, but in point ready to dye aunſwered and ſaid, I am quod ſhe a ſtraunge woman, and I am come out from far countrie, but how I came hither God knoweth. Than aunſwered the Earle and ſaid. Whoſe horſe is this that ſtādeth by thée bound to this trée. Than anſwered the lady and ſaid, that it was hirs. Whā ye earle heard this, he knew well yt ſhe was a gentle woman, and came of noble linage, wherfore he was the rather moued with pitty, & ſaid vnto hir. O faire lady thou ſe • eſt of gentle blood, & therfore I purpoſe to deliuer thée from this miſchife, if thou wilt promiſe to goe with mée & nouriſh my faire yong daughter, & teach hir at home in my caſtell, for I haue no childe but onely hir, & if thou kéepe hir well thou ſhal • haue a good reward for thy labour. Than ſaid ſhe. As far ſoorth as I can or may, I ſhall fulfill thine entent. And when ſhe had thus promiſed him he tooke hir downe of the trée, and led hir home to his caſtel, and gaue hir the kéeping of his daughter that he loued ſo much, and ſhe was cheriſhed ſo well that ſhée lay euery night in the earles chamber, and his daughter with hir, and in his chamber euery night there brent a lamp, the which hanged beetwéene the Empreſſe bed and the earles bed. This lady béehaued hir ſo gently, that ſhe was beloued of euery creature. There was that time in ye earls court a ſteward, which much loued this Empriſſe exceedingly aboue all things, and oftentymes ſpake to hir of his loue. But ſhée anſwered him againe and ſayd.

Know yée déere friend for certainetie, that I haue made a ſolempne vow to God, that I ſhall neuer loue any man in ſuch maner wiſe but onely him whom I am greatly beholden to loue, by gods commaundement.

Than ſayd the Steward, Thou wilt not than conſent vnto mée. My Lorde quod ſh • , what needeth thee any more to aſke ſuch thing, the vow yt I haue made, truely I ſhall keepe & hold by the grace of god.

And when the ſteward heard this, hée went his way in great wrath and anger, thincking within himſelfe, if I may I ſhall be reuenged on thée. It befell vppon a night within ſhort time after that the Earls chamber dore was forgotten and left vnſhet, which the ſteward had anone perceiued. And when they were all a ſleepe, hee went and eſpied by the light of the lamp where the Empriſſe and the young Mayden laye to gether, and with that he drewe out his Knife and cut the throte of the Earles daughter, & put the bloody knife into the Empriſſe hande ſhee beeing a ſléepe and nothing knowing thereof, to the intent that whan the Earle awaked he ſhould ſee the knife in hir hande, and that hée ſhould think that ſhe had cut his daughters throte, wherfore ſhe ſhould bée put to a ſhameful death, for this miſcheuous déede. And when this damoſell was thus ſlaine, and the bloody knife in the Empriſſe hand, the counteſſe awaked out of hir ſléepe and ſawe by the light of the Lampe the blouddie knife in the Empriſſe hande, wherefore ſhe was almoſt out of hir wittes, and ſayd to the Earle, O my Lorde, behold in yonder Ladies hand a wonderfull thing.

Anone the Earle awaked and beheld on the Empriſſe bed and ſaw the bloody knife as the countiſſe had ſayd, wherefore he was greatly moued, and cried to hir and ſayd. Awake woman out of thy ſléepe, what thing is this that I ſée in thy hand. Anone the Empriſſe through his crye awaked out of hir ſleepe, and in hir waking ye knife fell out of hir hand, and with that ſhe looked by hir & found the Earles daughter dead by hir ſide & all the bed be ſprent with blood, wherefore with an huge voyce ſhée cryed and ſayd. Alas alas and welaway, my lords daghter is ſlayne

Than cryed the coūtiſſe vnto the Earle with á pitious voyce & ſaid. A my lord, let ye diueliſh woman be put to the moſt foule death that can be thought, which thus hath ſlaine our onely childe.

And when the countiſſe had ſayde thus to the Earle, ſhe ſayde to the Empriſſe in this wiſe. The high God knoweth that thou miſcheuous woman haſt ſlain my daughter with thine owne hands, for I ſaw the bloodie knife in thy hand, & therefore thou ſhalt dye a foule death. Than ſayde the Earle in this wiſe. O thou woman, were it not that I dread God greatly, I ſhould cleaue thy bodie with my ſword in two parts, for I deliuered thée from hanging, & now thou haſt ſlaine my daughter, neuertheleſſe for mée thou ſhalt haue no harme, therefore goe thy way out of this cittie without any delaye, for if I doe finde thée here this daye, thou ſhalt dye a moſt euill death.

Than aroſe this wofull Empriſſe and dyd on hir clothes, & after leapt on hir palſry and rode toward the eaſt alone without any ſafe conduct. And as ſhée rode thus mourning by the way ſhe eſpyed on the left ſide of the way a payre of gallous and ſeuen officers leading a man to the gallous to be hanged, wherfore ſhe was moued with great pittie, and ſmote hir horſe with the ſpurres & rode to them praying them yt ſhe might redéeme that miſdoer, if he might be ſaued from death for any meede. Than ſayd they, Lady it pleaſeth vs well that thou redéeme him. Anone the Empriſſe accorded with them and payed his raunſome, and than he was deliuered. Thus ſayde ſhe to him. Now déere friend be true till thou dye, ſith I haue deliuered thée from death.

On my ſoule quod he, I promiſe you euer to be true. And when hée had thus ſayde, he followed the Lady ſtill till they came nigh a citie, and than ſaid the Empriſſe to him.

Good friend quod ſhée, goe foorth thy way afore mée out of the Cittie, and take vp for vs an honeſt lodging, for ther I purpoſe to reſt a whil • ▪ This man went foorth as ſhe commaun ••• • tooke vp for hir a good lodging and an honeſt, whereas ſhe abode long tyme. Whan the men of the Citie perceined hir bewtie, they wondred greatly, wherefore many of them craued of hir vnlawfull loue, but all was in vaine, they might not ſpeede in any wiſe. It fortuned after on a day that there came a Shippe full of marchandiſe, and ariued in the hauen of that Citie. When the Ladys heard this, ſhe ſaid vnto hir ſeruaunt. Goe to the ſhippe and ſee if there be any c • oth for myne vſe. Hir ſeruaunt went foorth to the ſhippe, whereas he found many precious clothes, wherefore hée prayed the maſter of the ſhippe that-hée would come into the Citie and ſpeake with this Lady. The maſter graunted him and ſo he came home to his lady beefore and warned hir of the comming of the maſter o • ye ſhippe. Anone after ye maſter of the ſhip came and ſ • luted the Ladye worthyly. And the lady receiued him according to his degrée, praying him yt ſhe might haue for hir mony ſuch cloth as might b • profitable for hir wearing. Anone hee graūted yt ſhee ſhould haue, and ſoone they were agreed, wherefore the ſeruaunt went emmediately again with the Maiſter of the Shippe. And when they were both within the Ship boorde, the Maiſter ſayd to the Ladies ſeruant. My déere friend to thée I wold open my counſaile, if I might truſt in thee, & help mee, thou ſhalt haue of mee a great reward. Then anſwered hée and ſayd. I ſhall (quod hee) bee ſworne vnto thée on the holy Euangeliſt, that I ſhall kéepe thy counſaile and fulfill thine intent, as far foorth as I can.

Then ſaid the Maiſter of the ſhippe, I loue thy Lady more then I can tel thee, for hir fayreneſſe is ſo great, that I would giue for the loue of hir all the gold that I haue, and if I may obtaine the loue of hir through thy help, I ſhall giue thée what ſo euer thou wilt deſire of mée.

Then ſaide the Ladies ſeruaunt tell me by what meanes I may beſt ſpeede. Then ſayd the Maiſter of the Shippe. Goe home to thy Lady againe and tell hir that I will not deliuer to thee my cloth, except ſhe come hir ſelfe, but bring hir to my Shippe except the winde bée good and able, for then I purpoſe to lead hir away. Thy counſell is alwayes good quod the Ladies ſeruant, therfore giue me ſome reward, & I ſhall fulfil thyne intent.

And when he had receiued his reward hee went againe to his Lady and tolde hir that by no meanes ye Maſter of the ſhippe would not deliuer him the cloth but if ſhée came hir ſelfe. The Lady béeléeued hir ſeruaunt & went to the ſhip. And when ſhe was within the ſhip bord hir ſeruaunt abode without.

When ye Maiſter ſaw yt ſhe was within the Shippe, and the winde was good, hee drew vp the ſayle and ſayled foorth. When the Lady perceiued this, thus ſhée ſayde to ye maſter. O Maſter (quod ſhee) what treaſon is this that thou haſt done to mée. The Maiſter anſwered and ſayde. Madame certainely it is ſo that I muſt needes lie with thée, and afterwarde eſpouſe thee. For ſooth quod ſhée, I haue made a vowe that I ſhall neuer commit ſuch ſinne but with him vnto whom I am bound by right and by the law. Soothly quod he, if yée will not graunt mée with your good will, I ſhall caſt you out into ye middeſt of the ſea, & there ſhall yée die an euill death. If it be ſo quod ſhe, that I muſt néedes conſent or elſe dye, than I pray thee to prepare a priuie place in the ende of the Shippe, whereas I may fulfill thine entent or I dye, but firſt I pray thée that I may ſay my prayers vnto the father of heauen, that hée may haue mercy on mée.

The Maſter béeléeued hir, wherfore hée let ordaine hir a Cabbin in the end of the Shippe wherevnto ſhée ſette hir downe on both hir knees and made hir prayers, ſaying on this wiſe. O thou my Lord GOD yt haſt kept mée frō my youth in cleaneneſſe, keepe mée now that I be not deſ • oured▪ ſo yt I may ſerue thée euer with a cleane heart and minde. When ſhée had thus ended hir oryſon, ther aroſe ſodenly a great tempeſt in the ſea, ſo that the Shippe all to braſt, and all that were within periſhed ſaue ye lady yt caught a Cable & ſaued hir ſelfe, & the Maſter of the Ship an other, neuertheleſſe ſhe knew not of him, ne he of hir, for they were driuen to diuerſe coaſtes. This ladie landed in hir owne Empyre beeſide a Citie where in ſhée was worſhipfully receiued, and ſhee lyued ſo holy a life, that GOD gaue hir grace and power to heale ſicke folke, of all manner of diſeaſes, wherfore there came much people to hir, both crooked, blinde, and lame, and euery man through the grace of God and hir good demeanure, were healed, wherfore hir name was knowne thorough diuerſe regions. Neuertheleſſe, ſhe was not knowen as Empriſſe. In the ſame tyme the Emperours brother (that had hanged hir beefore by the heyre) was ſmitten with a foule Lepry. The knight that ſlew the earles Daughter, and put the bloody knife in hir hand, was blynde, deafe, and had the palſey The thiefe that béetrayed hir to the Maiſter of the ſhippe, was lame and full of the Crampe. And the Maſter of the ſhippe diſtraught out of his wittes.

When the Emperour heard that ſo holy a woman was in ſuch a Citie, hée called his brother & ſaide to him thus.

Goe wee déere brother vnto this holy woman that is dwelling in the Citie, that ſhe may heale t • ée of thy lepry. Would to God (quod hee) that I were healed. Anone the Emperour with his brother went toward the Citie. And when ye Citizens heard of his comming they receiued him Worſhipfullye with proceſſion. And then the Emperour enquired of the Citizens if any ſuch holy woman were among them that could heale ſicke folke of theyr diſeas. The Citizens anſwered and ſayde, that ſuch a one was there.

Then was the Empreſſe called foorth before the Emperour, but ſhée muffled hir face as well as ſhée could, that the Emperour hir huſband ſhold not know hir, & when ſhée had ſo done, ſhée ſaluted him with great reuerence, as it appertained to his eſtate.

And hée againe in lyke wiſe, ſaying thus. O good Ladie, if thou lyſt of thy grace to heale my brother of his lepry, aſke of mee what thou wilt, and I ſhall graunt it thee, for thy reward.

When the Empriſſe heard this, ſhée looked about hir and ſaw there the Emperours Brother, a foule Leprie, ſhée ſaw there alſo the knight yt ſlew the earles daughter blynde and deafe. The thiefe that ſhée ſaued from ye gallowes lame, and alſo ye Maſter of ye Ship diſtraught out of his wittes, and all were come to hir for to be healed of their ſickneſſe, but they knew not hir: for all yt they knew not hir, ſhee knew them well. Then ſayd ſhée vnto the Emperour thus.

My reuerend Lord, though yée would giue mee all your Empyre, I may not heale your Brother, nor none of theſe other, but if they knowledge openlye what they haue done.

When the Emperour heard this, hée tourned him towardes his Brother and ſayde vnto him. Brother, accknowledge openly thy ſinne before all theſe men, that thou maiſt bée healed of thy ſickneſſe. Then anone he began to tell how hée had ledde his lyfe, but hée tolde not how he had hanged the Empriſſe in the Forreſt by the haire of hir Head, moſt diſpightfully.

When he had knowledged all that him lyſt, the Empreſſe replyed and ſaide.

Sothly my Lord, I would gladly laye vnto him my medicine but I wot right well it is in vaine, for he hath not made a full confeſſion. The Emperour hearing this he tourned towarde his brother & ſaide againe in this wiſe.

What euill ſorrow or vnhappy wretchedneſſe is in thée, ſeeſt yt not how that thou art a foule lepry, therefore knowledge thy ſinne truely that thou maiſt be whole, or elſe auoide my company for euermore.

A Lord quod hée, I may not tell my life openly, but if I be firſt ſure of thy grace. What haſt thou treſpaſſed againſt mee quod the Emperour. Than anſwered his brother and ſaide. Myne offence againſt thée is gr • euous, and therefore I aſke mercie. The Emperour thought not on the Empriſſe for as much as he ſuppoſed ſhe had beene dead many yéeres béefore, hee commaunded his brother to tell foorth what hee had offended him, & hée ſhould bée forgiuen.

And whē ye Emperour had thus forgiuen his brother, hée béegan to tell openly how he had deſired ye Empriſſe to comemitte adultry with him, and hée hadde hanged hir by the haire in the Forreſt, bycauſe ſhée would not conſent by any meanes to him.

And when the Emperour heard this, hée was almoſt béeſide himſelfe, and in his rage he ſayd thus. O thou moſt wreched creature, ye vengeaunce of God is fallen vpon thee, and were it not that I haue pardoned thee thou ſhouldeſt dye the moſt ſhamefull death that could bee thought. Then ſayde the Knight that ſlew the earles Daughter. I wot not (quod hee) of what Lady ye meane, but I wote that my Lord found on a time ſuch a Ladye hanginge by the hayre in the Forriſt, and brought hir home to his Caſtell, and hée tooke hir his daughter to keepe, & I prouoked hir as much as I could to ſinne with mee, but ſhee would in no wiſe conſent to mee, wherfore I ſl • w the earles Daughter that laye with hir, and when I had ſo done, I put the bloodie Knife in the Ladies hand that the earle ſhould thinke ſhée had ſlaine his daughter with hir owne hands, and than was ſhe exiled thence but where ſhe became I wot not.

Than ſayde the theife I wot not of what Lady ye meane, but well I wotte that ſeuen officers were leading mée to the gallowes and ſuch a Lady came riding by and bought mée of them, & than went I with hir, and afterward I béetrayed hir vnto a maſter of a ſhip.

Such a Lady (quod the maſter of the ſhippe) receiued I, and when wée were in the middeſt of the ſea, I would haue layne with hir, but ſhee ſate downe to hir prayers, and anone there aroſe ſuch a tempeſt that the ſhippe all to braſt, and wée were all drowned ſaue ſhée and I, but what afterward befell of hir I wote not.

Than cryed the Empriſſe with a loud voyce and ſayde. Soothly déere friends yee doe now truely confeſſe and declare the trueth, wherefore I will now apply my medicine, and anone they receiued their health.

When this lady the Empriſſe had thus done, ſhe opened hir face to ye Emperour and he foorthwith knew hir, and ranne to hir and imbraced hir in his armes, and kiſſed hir oftentimes, and for ioy he wept bitterly ſaying.

Bleſſed be God, now haue I found that I deſired. And when he had thus ſayde, he lead hir home to his Pallayes with great ioye, and alter when it pleaſed almightie GOD, they ended both their liues in peace.

The Argument.

¶Euery ſupreme magiſtrate and other inferior, is to be honoured and reuerenced. Euery true Chriſtian man ought to conſider his dutie heerein, euery falſe Chriſtian peruerteth the wayes of the godlye, the reward of ſuch is hid vp in hell, but the iuſt ſhal inherite the bleſſed life euerlaſting.

The 41. Hiſtory.

IN Rome dwelt ſometime a mightie Emperour namid Martin, which for entier affection kept with him his brothers ſon, whom men called Fulgencius. With this Martin dwelt alſo a knight that was ſteward of his Empyre, and vncle vnto the Emperour which enuied this Fulgentius, ſtudying day and night how he might bring the Emperour and this child at debate: wherfore ye ſteward on a day went to the Emperour & ſayd: My Lord quod hee, I that am your true ſeruaunt am bound in dutie to warne your highneſſe, if I heare any thing that toucheth your honour, wherfore I haue heard ſuch things that I muſt needs vtter it in ſecrete to your Lordſhip béetwéene vs two. Then ſayde the Emperour: Good friend (quod hée) ſay on what thée liſt.

My moſt déere Lord (quod the ſteward) Fulgeneious your coſ • n, and your nigh kinſman hath deſamed you wonderfully and ſhamefully, throughout all your Empyre, ſaying that your breath ſtinketh, and that it is death to him to ſerue you of your cuppe. Than the Emperour was grieuouſly diſpleaſed, and almoſt belide himſelfe for anger, & ſayde to him thus: I pray thee my good friend tell mée ye very trouth if that my breath ſo ſtincketh as he ſayth. My Lord (quod the ſteward) ye may beeléeue mee, I neuer perceiued a ſwéeter breath in my dayes than yours is. Then ſayd ye Emperour, I pray thee good friend tell mée how I may bring this thing to a good proofe.

The ſteward anſwered and ſayd. My Lord (quod hée) yee ſhall right well vnderſtand the troth, for to morrow next when hée ſerueth you of your cuppe, yée ſhall ſee that hée will turne away his face from you, bicauſe of your breath, and this is the moſt certain proofe that may be had of this thing. Forelooth quod the Emperour, a truer proofe can not be had of this thing. Wherefore anone when the ſteward heard this, hée went ſtraight to Fulgencious and toke him a ſide, ſaying thus. Déere friend, thou art my kinſman, and alſo nephew vnto my Lord the Emperour, therefore if thou wilt bée thankfull vnto mee, I will tell thée of the vice whereof my Lord the Emperour complayneth oft, and thinketh to put thée from him (except it be ye rather amended) and that might bée a great reproofe to thee. Then ſayd this Fulgencious. A good ſir for his loue that dyed vpon the croſſe, tell mée why my Lord is ſo ſore moued with mée, for I am ready to amend my default in all that I can or may, and for to be ruled by your good & diſcréete counſaile. Thy breath quod the ſteward ſtincketh ſo ſore, that his drinck doth him no good, ſo gréeuous is vnto him thy ſtincking breath of thy Mouth. Then ſayd Fulgentious vnto the Steward. Truely, that perceiued I neuer till now, but what thinke you of my breath. I praie you to tell mée the verie truth. Truely (quod the ſteward,) it ſtinketh greatly and foule. And this Fulgentious béeléeued all that hée ſaide, and was right ſorowfull in his minde, And praied the Stewarde of his counſell and helpe in this woefull caſe. Than ſaide the ſtewarde vnto him, if that thou wilt doe by my counſell, I ſhall bring this matter to a good concluſion, therefore doe as I ſhall tell thée.

I counſell thée for the beſt, and alſo warne thée, that when thou ſerueſt my Lord the Emperour of his cuppe, that thou yt turne thy face away from him, ſo that hée may not féele thy ſtincking breath, vnto ye time that thou haſt prouided thée of ſome remedie therfore.

Then was Fulgentious right glad, and ſwere to him that he would doe by his counſell.

Not long after, it béefell that this young man Fulgentious ſerued his Lord as hée was wont to doe, and therewith ſodainely he tourned his face from his Lord the Emperour, as the Steward had taught him.

And when the Emperour perceiued the auoyding of his head, hée ſmote this young Fulgentious on the breaſt with his foote, and ſaide to him thus.

O thou leude varlet, now ſée I well it is true that I haue heard of thée, and therfore goe thou anon out of my ſight, that I may ſée thée no more in this place. And with that this yong Fulgencious wept full ſore, & auoided the place, and went out of his ſight. And when this was ſo done, the Emperour called vnto him his Steward and ſayd.

How may I ryd this varlet from the world, that thus hath defamed mée? My moſt déere Lord quod the ſteward, right well you ſhall haue your intent.

For héere béeſide, within theſe thrée miles yée haue brickmakers, which daily make great fires for to burne brick, & alſo they make lyme, therfore my Lord ſend to them this night, & charge them vppon paine of death, that whoſoeuer commeth to them firſt on the morrow, ſaying to thē thus: My Lord commaū deth you to fulfil his will, that they take him and caſt him into the Forncis with the ſtones, and this night commaunde you this Fulgentious that he goe earely in the morning to your workmen, and that hee aſke them whether they haue fulfilled your wil which they were commaunded, or not, and then ſhall they according to your commaundement, caſt him in the Fyre, and thus ſhall hee dye an euill death.

Surely quod ye Emperour, thy counſell is good, therfore call to me that varlet Fulgentious. And when this young man was come to the Emperours preſence, hée ſayde to him thus: I charge thée vpon paine of death, that thou riſe early in ye morning & goe to ye brenners of lyme & brick, and that thou bee with them earely before the ſunne ryſe thrée myles from this houſe, and charge them in my behalfe that they fullfil my commaundement, or elſe they ſhall dye a moſt ſhamefull death.

Then ſpake this Fulgentious. My Lord, if God ſend mée my lyfe, I ſhall fulfill your will, were it that I ſhould goe to the worlds ende.

When Fulgentious had this charge, he could not ſléepe for thought, but that hée muſt ariſe earely for to fulfil his Lords commandement. The Emperour about midnight ſent a meſſenger on horſeback vnto his bricke makers, commaunding them vppon paine of death, that who ſo euer came to them firſt in the morning ſaying vnto them, the Emperours commaundement, (which is before rehearſed) that they ſhould take and bynd him and caſt him into the fire, & burne him to the bare bones.

The Bryck makers anſwered and ſayde, it ſhould bée done. And then the meſſenger returned home againe incontinent, and told the Emperour that his commandement ſhould bée diligently fulfilled.

Earely in the morning following, Fulgentious aroſe & prepared him towards his way, & as hée went, hée heard a bell ring to ſeruice, wherefore hee went to that Church for to heare Seruice, and after the ende of ſeruice he fell a ſléepe, and ther hée ſlept a long while, ſo that the prieſt ne none other might a wake him.

The ſteward deſiring inwardly to heare of his death as he did hope, about one of the clock he went vnto ye workmen, and ſaide vnto them thus, Syrs quod hée, haue yée done the Emperours commaundement or no.

The Brickmakers anſwered him againe and ſaide. Nay ſurely wée haue not yet done his commaundement, but anone it ſhall bée done, & with that they layde handes on him. Then cried the ſteward with an high voice, and ſaide. Good ſirs ſaue my Lyfe, ſor the Emperour cōmaunded yt Fulgentious ſhould bée put to death. Then ſaide they, the meſſenger told not vs ſo, but hée bad vs that whoſoeuer came firſt to vs in the morning, ſaying as ye before rehearſed, that wée ſhould take him and caſt him into the Fornace & bourne him to aſhes. And with that word they threw him into the fire.

And when he was bournt, Fulgentious came to them, and ſaid. Good ſirs haue you done my Lords commaundement, yea, ſoothly ſaid they, and therefore go • yée againe to the Emperour and tel him ſo. Thē ſaid Fulgentious. For Chriſtes loue tell mée that commaundement.

Wée had in commaundement ſaide they vpon paine of death, that who ſo euer came to vs firſt in the morninge, and ſaide like as thou haſt ſaide, that wée ſhould take him and caſt him into the Fornace. But béefore thée, came the Steward, and therefore haue wee fulfilled on him ye Emperours commaundoment, and now is hee bournt to the bare bones.

And when Fulgentious heard this, hée thanked God that hée had ſo preſerued him from death, wherfore hée tooke his leaue of the workmen and went againe to the Pallaice.

When the Emperour perceiued him, hée was almoſt diſtract of his wittes for anger, and thus hee ſayde: Haſt thou beene with the Bryckmaker and fulfilled my commaundement? Soothly my gracious Lord I haue béene there, but or I came there, your commaundement was fulfilled. How may that bee true, quod the Emperour?

Forſooth ſaid Fulgencious, the ſteward came to them afore mee, and ſayd that I ſhould haue ſayde: and when they heard that, they tooke him and threw him into ye forneis, and if I had comen any rather, ſo would they haue done to me, and therfore I thanck God that hath preſerued me from death.

Then ſayd ye Emperour, tell mée the trueth of ſuch queſtions as I ſhall demaund of thee. Then ſaide Fulgentious vnto the Emperour. As I béeleue you neuer ſound in mee any falſehoode, and therfore I wondred greatly why ye had ordained ſuch a death for mee, for well ye know that I am your own brothers ſonne. Then ſaide ye Emperour to Fulgentious: It is no wonder, for that death I ordained to thee through counſell of the ſteward, bicauſe thou didſt defame mée throughout all my Empyre, ſaying, that my breath did ſtinck ſo grieuouſly, that it was death to thée, and in token hereof, thou turnedſt away thy face whē thou ſeruedſt mée of my cuppe, and that ſaw I with mine eyes, and for this cauſe I ordained for thée ſuch a death, and yet thou ſhalt dye except I heare a better excuſe.

Then anſwered Fulgentious and ſayd, A my moſt deere Lord, if it might pleaſe your highneſſe for to heare mée, I ſhall ſhew you a ſubtill and a deceitfull imagination. Say on quod the Emperour. The ſteward (quod Fulgencious) that now is dead, came to mée and ſayde, that ye tolde him that my breath dyd ſtinck, and there vpon he counſailed mée that when I ſerued you of your cuppe I ſhould than turne away my face, I take God to witneſſe I lye not. When the Emperour heard this, he beleued him & ſaid. O my neuew, now I ſee through the right wiſe iudgement of God the ſteward is brent, and his owne wickedneſſe and enuie is fallen on him ſelſe, for he ordained this malice againſt thee, and therfore thou arte much bound to almightie God that hath preſerued thée from death.

The Argument.

¶ Tyrants and vngodly perſons walke without knowledge of the truth, tyll they come to the Church of God, the wicked perſecute the godly. But they are preſerued by the mightie prouidence of god, ſo we ought not to ſleep in ſinne. A figuratiue ſpeach of three ſeuerall meanings, videlicet, Take, Yeelde, and Flee, the ſignificacion thereof.

The 42. Hiſtorie.

THere dwelt ſometime in Rome a mightie Emperour named Delphinus, which had no childrē ſaue onely one daughter, which was a fayre creature and welbeloued of hir father. As this Emperour walked on a day on hunting in the Forreſt, ſodainly he rode out of his way, and loſt his men, wherfore he was greatly diſcomforted, for he wiſt not whether he rode, ne in what place he was, till at the laſt when he had rydden thus all the day alone, in the euening he ſaw a houſe, and thether hée rode a great pace, & knocked at the gate.

Immediately the good manne of the houſe heard him and aſked the cauſe of his knocking, and what he would haue. Deere friend quod the Emperour, lo it is night as ye may ſe, therfore I deſire you of lodging for the loue of God. When he had thus ſayd, the goodman of the houſe vnware that he was the Emperour, aunſwered thus and ſayd Good friend quod he, I am the Emperours Foſter, and haue plenty of veniſon and other vittailes for you.

When the Emperour hearde this, he was right glad in his mind, neuertheleſſe he told him not that he was the Emperour. And the Foſter opened the gate, and receiued him as worſhipfully as hée could, and ſet him to his ſupper, and ſerued him honeſtly.

And when he had ſupped, the Foſter brought him to his chamber, and when time was he went to bed. In the ſame night it befell that the Foſters wife was trauailing of childe in another chamber faſt by, and was deliuered yt ſame night of a faire ſonne.

And as the Emperour lay in his bed ſléeping, him ſéemed he heard a voice ſaying to him thriſe, theſe words. Take, take, take. And with that hée awoke, & meruailed greatly what it might bée, ſaying to himſelfe thus: A voyce biddeth mée take, take, what ſhall I take? And immedately he fell a ſléepe againe, and the ſecond time, hée heard a voyce, ſaying vnto him theſe wordes. Yelde, yelde, yelde. And with that he wakened againe, and wondred greatly, ſaying vnto himſelfe. What may this ſignifie? Firſt I heard a voyce that ſayed, take take, and nothing I receiued.

And right now I heard another voice that ſayde, yeld, yeld, yeld, what ſhoulde I yelde.

And as he laye thus thinking to him ſelfe he fell a ſléepe againe. And when he heard the third voyce, ſaying theſe wordes thrice, flee, flee, flee, for this night is a childe borne that after thy deceaſe, ſhal be Emperour. When the Emperor heard this, he wakened & wondred greatly what it might bee.

In the morning carely ſolowing, ye emperour aroſe, & called to him the foſter and ſaid. Deere friend, I pray thée that thou w • lt tell me if any childe be borne this night to thy knowledge. My wife quod the Foſter, this night is deliuered of a fayre ſon. I pray thée ſayd the Emperour ſhew me thy ſonne. When the Emperour had ſéene the childe, he ſaw a marke in the childes viſage, whereby he might know him an other time, and than he ſayd to the Foſter thus,

Déere friend, knoweſt thou who I am, nay ſouthly quod the Foſter, for I ſaw you neuer before this time, as farre as I am remembred, neuertheleſſe it ſéemeth that ye be a gentleman.

Than anſwered the Emperour and ſayd, I am quod he the Emperour your Lord, whome yée haue lodged this night, wherefore right hartely I thanke you.

This hearing, the foſter fell downe vpon both his knées at his féete, & beſought him of mercy, if that he had offended his hightneſſe in any thing, praying him of forgiueneſſe. Then aunſwered the Emperour and ſaid, be thou nothing afrayed, for I thanke thee hartely of thy good chéere, and thy ſonne that was borne to night I wil haue for to nouriſh and bring vp in my court, aud to morrow I ſhall ſend for him.

O my gratious Lord quod the foſter it is not agréeable that ſuch a noble Emperour ſhould nouriſh the childe of his ſubiect and ſeruaunt, neuertheleſſe your will be fulfilled, for when your meſſengers come I ſhall deliuer them my ſon. Whan this was ſayde, the Emperour tooke his leaue and rode home towarde his pallaice.

And whan he was come home, he called vnto him ſuch ſeruaunts as hée truſted beſt, and ſayd to them thus.

Goe yée, quod hée, vnto my Foſter, with whom I was lodged this night in the forreſt, and receiue of him his ſonne, of which his wife was deliuered thys night, and vpon payne of death I commaund you that yee deſtroy him by the way, and caſt his fleſh to the dogges, but bring with you the hart to mee. And except ye fulfill my commaundement, yée ſhall dye the moſt fouleſt death that can be thought. Anone his ſeruaunts went to the forreſt, and receiued the Foſters ſonne and brought him with them, and when they were come néere vnto the pallaice, one of them ſaid. How ſhall wée doe, that we may fulfill our Lords commaundement in diſtroying of this child. Some aunſwered and ſaide, that the child ſhould bée ſlaine, and ſome would haue ſaued his lyfe, & while they ſtroue thus among themſelues, one of them that was moſt mercifull ſaide vnto the other. O my good friendes, heare my counſayle, and ye ſhall not forethinke it. If ye murther this innocent childe, wée ſhall greatly offend almightie god, and therefore héere bée young Pigges, kill wée one of thē, & then may wée take with vs his hart, and preſent it vnto the Emperour ſaying, that it is the heart of the Childes blood. Then ſaid they, thy counſaile is good, but what ſhal we doe with ye Child. Good friends (quod hee) let vs wrap him in ſome clothes, and late him in ſome holow trée, for peraduenture God will help him & ſaue his lyfe.

And when hée had thus ſaid, they did gladly after his counſaile in all things, and killed the Pigge, and went theyr way and carried home with them the Pigges hart to the Emperour, ſaying vnto him thus: Loe, gracious Lord, wée haue deſtroyed ye Child as ye cōmaunded vs, and with that they ſhewed him the Pigges heart. The Emperour ſuppoſing that it had bene ye Childes hart, tooke it and caſt it into the fire, deſpitefully ſaying.

Loe, that is ye hart of him which ſhould haue ben Emperour after me. Lo, what it is to beeléeue in dreames & viſions, which be nought elſe but fantaſies and vaine thinges. The ſecond day after that ye Childe was put into the hollow tree, there came an earle for to hunt in the forreſt, and as his houndes chaſed an harte, they came to this hollow trée where the Childe laye, and whan they felt ye ſauour of the Childe, they would goe no farther.

The Earle ſéeing this, maruailed greatly why his houndes abode there, and ſmote his horſe with his ſpures and rode a great pace till he came to them. And when he came vnto the trée wherin the Childe was laide, he looked in at an hole & ſaw there the childe lying, and then was hée right glad, & tooke vp the Childe in his armes full louingly, and bare him home vnto his Caſtle, ſaying vnto the Counteſſe his wiſe. Loe, my deere wiſe, this day by fortune I haue found a very faire Childe in an holow trée as I hunted in the forreſt, whereof I am right glad.

And beecauſe that I neuer begat ſonne daughter on thee, ne thou neuer yet conceiued a childe, therfore I exhort thée that yu wilt faine they ſelfe trauailing with childe, and ſay that thou haſt borne this childe. The Counteſſe fulfilled right gladly the earles will and deſire, and ſaid. My moſt déere Lord, your will in this thing ſhall bee done.

Not long after this, newes went throughout all the country, yt the counteſſe was deliuered of a fayre Sonne, wherfore euery man reioyſed much.

The Childe beegan to grow and was right well beloued of euery man, & moſt ſpecially of the earle and of the Counteſſe. It beefell after, when the Childe was xv. yéeres of age, the Emperour made a ſolempe feaſt vnto all ye Lords of his Empyre, vnto ye which feaſt this earle was called, and at the day aſſigned he came and brought his Childe with him which was at ye time a fayre yong ſquire, and • aruer at ye bord before the Earle. The Emperour greatly béeheld him, and eſpyed the token in his forehead which hee had ſéene beefore in the Foſters houſe, wherfore hée was greatly moued, and vexed within him ſelfe and ſaide vnto the Earle in this wiſe. Whoſe Sonne is this, certes ſaid the Earle, hee is my ſonne. Than ſaide the Emperour. By the ſaith and trouth that thou oweſt vnto mée, tell mee the trouth.

The earle ſéeing that hée might not excuſe himſelfe by no manner wiſe, but that néeeds hee muſt tell him ye trouth, than told hée him altogether, how hée had found him in the forreſt in an hollow tree. This hearing, the Emperour was almoſt diſtracte of his wittes for anger, & called vnto him his ſeruants, which he had ſent before to deſtroy the Childe.

And when they came béefore him, hée made them to ſware vpon a booke that they ſhould tell him the trouth what they had done with the Childe.

Gracious Lord ſaide they, wée yéelde vs vnto your grace & goodnes, for without doubt pitie ſo moued vs, that wée might not deſtroy him, and then wée put him in an hollow trée, but what afterward befell of him, certainely we know not, and in his ſteade we kilde a Pyg and brought you the hart thereof.

When the Emperour had heard the very trueth of this matter, hee ſaid vnto the earle. This yong man quod hee, ſhall abide heere by mée, the earle immediatly graūted, though it was greatly againſt his will.

And when the feaſt was ended, euery man tooke his leaue of the Emperour, & went whereas they liſt.

And at that time it fortuned that the Empriſſe and hir daughter ſoiourned in a great countrie, far fro thence by the commaundement of the Emperour. It befell not long after ye Emperour called vnto him that yong Squyre and ſaide, it béehoueth thée (quod hee) to ride vnto the Empriſſe my wife with my letters. I am ready at your commaundement my Lord, ſayde hee, to fulfill your deſire.

Immediately the Emperour lette write letters, whereof his intent was this. That the Empriſſe ſhould take the bearer of theſe letters, and let him bée drawen at the horſe taile, and after that ſhée ſhould let him bée hanged till he were dead, and yt vpon paine of death.

When the letters were all made & ſealed, then the Emperour tooke them vnto ye yong ſquire, commaunding him to ſpede him on his iorney. And ſtraight way the yong Squier receiued thé gladly, and put them • ure in his bore, & rode foorth on his iourney. When hée had rydden thrée or foure daies on his iourney, in an euening hee came vnto a Caſtle wher as dwelt a knight, and gently deſired him of a nights lodging.

The knight ſeeing and beeholding the good fauour of this young ſquier, graū ted him lodginge, and made him good cheere and well to fare, and afterward brought him vnto his chamber, & when hée was there, hee went to bed: And immediatly fell on ſléepe, for hée was full wery of his • ourney, and forgot his boxe with the Letters lying openly in his chamber.

When the knight ſaw the bore, hee opened it, and ſound the letters ſealed with ye Emperours ſigne manuel, & was greatly tempted to open them, & at the laſt, hée opened them full ſubtylly, and than hee redde how the Empreſſe vpon paine of death ſhoulde put the bearer of them to death, and then he was right ſorrowfull, and ſaide within himſelfe, Alas (quod hee,) it is great pitie to deſtroy ſuch a fayre young man, & therefore if I may, it ſhall not bée ſo.

And immediatly after, the knight raced out that writtinge, and wrote in the ſame paper a letter, ſaying theſe words. Upon paine of death I commaund thée that thou take the young Squire bearer of theſe letters, and let him be wedded without any delaie vnto my daughter and yours, with all the honour and ſolempnitie that can bée thought, and whan they bée marryed that yée take him as your owne ſonne, and that hée keepe my roome till I come vnto you myſelfe.

Whan ye knight had thus written, hée cloſed ye letters ſubtylly and put them into the bore againe.

Early in the morning ye young Squire aroſe and very haſtely made him redie, and toke his leaue of the knight, & rode foorth on his iourney, and the third daie after, he came vnto the Empriſſe, and ſaluted hir right worſhipfully in ye Emperours beehalfe, and toke hir the letters. And when the Empreſſe had redde them, anone ſhe ſent foorth hir meſſengers through the countrie, commaunding the ſtates and gentilmen to come vnto hir daughters wedding, at a certaine daie aſſigned.

When the daie was come, thether came manie great Lordes and Ladies, and anone, this young Squire eſpouſed the Emperours Daughter, with great honour and worſhippe, according to the tenour of the letters, & was right well beloued and moſt honoured among the people.

Not long after it befell, that the Emperour came into that Countrie, and when the Empreſſe heard of hir Lords comming, ſhee toke with hir, hir ſonne in law, with much other people, and went towardes the Emperour, for to welcome him.

When the Emperour ſaw this yong Squire leading the Empriſſe his wyfe, he was greatly moued within himſelfe and ſayde. O thou curſſed Woman, bycauſe thou haſt not fulfilled my commaundement, thou ſhalt dye an euill death.

A my déere Lord (quod ſhée,) all that ye commaunded mee to doe I haue fullfilled. Nay curſſed woman ſayde the Emperour, it is not ſo, for I wrote to thée that thou ſholdeſt put him to death, and now I ſee him aliue.

My Lord quod the Empriſſe, ſaueing your grace, you wrote to mee yt I ſhould giue him your dauhter to wyfe, and that on payn of death, in witneſſe wherof loe here your letters with your owne ſeale manuell.

When the Emperour heard, this, hée wondred greatly and ſayd. Is he eſpowſed then to my daughter. Yea ſoothly ſayd the Empreſſe, long agoe with much ſolempnitie and great worſhippe, and as I perceiue your Daughter is with childe.

Than ſayde the Emperour. O thou lord Jeſu Chriſt it is great folly to ſtriue againſt thy ordinaunce, therefore ſith it is ſo, thy will muſt needes be fulfilled. And with that he tooke his ſonne in law it his armes and kiſſed him, which after his death was Emperour, and ended his life in reſt and peace.