GOOD Madame, I thinke my selfe much bounde vnto your La. that you would vouchsafe to make some pause, and to suspende your iudgement before you passed anie absolute verdicte against me. It is much I cōfesse in this swift censuring and preiudiciall age of ours, wherein mens willes & affecti­ons stande for statutes. Seeing then you are so desirous to know the trueth, I will not (I assure you) hyde any thing from you that I can call to minde. And howe so euer for want of memorie (things being passed so long agoe) I may happelie faile in some wordes, time, or circumstance that are not materiall. I dare auowe vnto your La. that for the substance of the thing it self there is no vntrueth in it at all: But euen that which I will iustifie vppon mine othe, if I should be therevnto called before the Parleament, or be­fore the Lordes, which for my better clearing herein (be­ing by this false and slaunderous accusation so much in­iured as I am) is the thing I doe desire: protestinge vnto you, that I was so farre from beeing acquainted with anie of the lewde practises of Hacket and his accomplices, (as Maister Sutcliffe and the Pretended Conspiracie would seeme to insinuate) that I doe not remember that euer I did so much as see the man aboue once in my life.

As for Copinger (though I confesse, I had heard of him before by my cousine Middlemore, that dead is, who had in part discried vnto me the humour of the man, and the sick­nesse [Page] of his braine) yet the first time that euer I sawe him, or had anie acquaintance with him, was on a Sabbath in Hillarie teaime before his fall 1590. At which time mee­ting him at the Blacke friers in the after noone, when the Lecture was done, he called me aside, telling me that hee would gladly speak with me, that his name was Copinger. I asked him what kinne he was to Maister Ambrose Copinger that serued sometime the Earle of Warwike, he said, his owne brother, I tolde him I loued him the better for that. And so he would needes drawe me on with him to his lodging.

By the way, as we went, he asked me sundrie questions concerning my trouble, & the matter of my endightment, and howe I spedde. I tolde him, I hoped well, the rather because mine owne heart was a witnesse to me of mine in­nocencie. And then he fell from that to other matters, wherein he made me remember my cousine Middlemore his wordes: for me thought he beganne to talke somethinge wildly and strangely of th'ouerthrow of the BB. and th'ex­pelling of dumme ministers all at one clappe, with sundrie other reeling vagaries without sence, whereof I can not nowe call to minde euerie particular. But this among the rest I wel remember, that he tolde me he was in good hope, ere it were long, to bring my L. Treasurer about to lyke of his devise, [...]to which effect he saied, he had written to his Honor of late, and looked for answere shortlie, vnto all which (musinge with my selfe that he would thus bold­lie rushe vpon these matters, especiallie to a man that hee neuer sawe before) I saide little, Onelie I wished that in so great and waightie affaires as those, he would be sure of his grounde and warrant before he attempted anie thing, and doo nothing of his owne head without th'advise of those that were wise and feared God. I warrant you (sayeth he) I will be sure of my grounde: I will looke to that.

When he came to his lodging, he tolde me it was a day [Page] of priuate fast with him, and therevppon was verie impor­tunate with me to haue prayed: which when I refused, be­cause (as I tolde him) I would bee loth to take anie such thing in hande vpon a suddaine without premeditation, he casting me a cusshen to kneele on, fell him selfe to pray af­ter his manner: a thing wherein my Cousine Middlemore had tolde me before he tooke a singular delight, hauinge some conceite and opinion of his gifte that way.

Loth I am (my good Lady) to be an ouerswift and ha­stie censurer of anie mans praier, especiallie in this cold and prophane age of ours, wherein men let not blasphemous­lie to scorne and deride, as it were, the verie giftes and gra­ces of Gods spirit. But, if I shall tell you simplie and plain­lie what I thinke, this prayer of Maister Copingers (though it were full of outwarde zeale and fernentnesse, if not too feruent, because he vsed many of these ohes, loude sighes and groninges, when as I conceiued the matter in weight, did nothing answere those patheticall outcries) was not, me thought, squared after the rule of knowledge, neither in methode, matter nor manner, nor yet savouring of that humilitie and discretion, as were to bee wished in so zea­lous a professour as he made shewe of. It was very long and tedious, pestered with many impertinent discourses and needlesse repetitions of one and the same thing, stuffed and enterlarded with sundrie bitter imprecations, about which he and I had no small adoe, and some hote bicke­ring within a while after. But the issue was, that hauinge caught some colde, and beeing nothing well before, this long kneeling and late tarying in that snowie and frostie season, did not helpe anie with to diminishe, but rather to increase my griefe, and brought me to a fitte of an ague.

Not long after this, when I had something recouered my selfe, I went to visite Maister Cart. in the Fleete, vnto whom I signified what had passed betwixt Maister Copin­ger [Page] and me, and of the newe acquaintance that he would needes fasten and enforce vpon me. But he bade me in anie wise beware and take heed of him, for he feared him great­lie that certeinlie all was not well with him, and that he hadThat is, some crazing of the braine. laesum principium, at the least, telling me howe faine he would haue propounded & fastened some of his fooleries and phantasticall reuelations vpon him. But (sayeth he) I haue returned him such an answere, as I beleeue hee will not greatlie like of, neither seeke to me in haste againe for resolution.

After this hauing beene in the countrie, when I came vp againe to London, Maister Copinger meeting me in the streetes, tolde me that he had bene sundrie times at my lod­ging to seeke me, but nowe I was come, he would visite me one of these dayes, and therevpon would needes knowe of me when he should be sure to haue me within. I tolde him I had much busines, and therefore could not well set him downe anie certeine time, but seeing I was a Legier heere, there would be time enough to meete before the Tearme were done. But he not satisfied heerewith, did not giue ouer, in a maner day by day, yea and sometimes, as I vnder­stoode, three of foure times a day, to seeke me at my lod­ging. Nowe perceyuing belike that I did as much as in me lay, of purpose to shunne and avoid him (as in deede vpon the warning of Maister Cart. and the former speeces of my Cousine Middlemore I did) he came one morning betime to my lodging before I was out of my bedde, and there he tolde me he had diuers things to shewe me of importance You shall see (sayeth he) that I haue not dallied or slept this geare, for I haue dealt, I tell you, with the highest. And therevppon hee pulles me out of his bosome a bundle of papers, whiche were, the most of them, the copies of such letters, as he had eyther alreadie written, or els had a purpose to write to se­ueral persons for the furtherance of the cause, as he tearmed it. Among the which I remember there was one to my L. [Page] Treasurer, one to the Countesse of Warwicke, and within that, one to her maiestie. Th'effect of all which, to my re­membrance, was of certaine horrible practises, treasons, & conspiracies intended against the Queene. And all these were onely indefinitlie set downe in a kinde of generalitie, without naminge or pointinge at anie particular, eyther of time, place, person or circumstance. More hee had recor­ded among those papers of his, th'aunswere that he tolde me he had receiued by woord of mouth, both from my L. Treasurer and the Countesse to this effecte, as I remember, Let not Copinger builde vs castels in th'ayre, or feede vs with phan­sies, fables, or dreames, but let him bring vs some grounded matter wherevpon we may worke, and he shall well perceyue, he shall be bac­ked against the greatest subiect in the lande, &c. Withall I re­member he tolde me that that Letter to her Maiestie the Countesse kept still in her handes, and would in no wise deliuer it, till shee sawe some better matter to ground vpon. Sundrie other copies of letters he shewed me at that time, as namelie one as I thinke to his sister Randoll, one to Maist. Egerton, one to Maister Cart. one to Maister Fuller, another to Maister Lancaster, two to Maist. Vdall, with some others that I can not nowe call to minde. Neither, to speake the trueth, did I giue any great eare vnto them, hauing at that instant some speciall busines, and therefore could the more willinglie haue spared his cōpanie. Yet this I noted among th [...] rest, that there were fewe of those letters of his without some piece of imprecation or other, which sounded strange in mine eares.

Nowe after he had thus shuffled ouer his letters and pa­pers vnto me, he fell to discourse with me at large of cer­teine straunge revelations and apparitions that he had of late, as namely, Once in his bedde when his brother Maister Ambrose Copinger, and another Gentleman lay by him, He tolde me him selfe, that they that lay by him bee­ing [Page] awaked with the loude noise and groaning that hee made, as men something amazed at the strangenesse there­of, did call on him aloude, verely thinking him not to bee well in his wittes, Whereas in trueth (sayeth he) I was inward­lie rauished in spirit, did groane in soule, and was talking with my God, who did most comfortably and gloriouslie appeare vnto me: yet they would by no meanes beleeue it, but thought verely I had bene beside my selfe, &c. And then he fell to vse many protestati­ons, yea and imprecations vnto me, to perswade me of the trueth hereof: namely, that he for his part was as sure that the Lorde had reuealed sundrie thinges vnto him, poore worme of th'earth (for those were his words) as he was sure of his death. And euen here it was that I tooke occasion to deale with him so roundlie about those kinde of cursinges and imprecations that were so vsuall with him, aswell in his prayer, letters and speaches, as, The Lorde confounde me, Let vengeaunce consume me, Let th'earth open and swallowe me, &c. Whereof I was so farre (I tolde him) from seeing any war­rant or exāple in the worde, that on the contrarie I thought they could not be vsed without a grieuous sinne and of­fence vnto the Maiestie of God. Concerning all which his defence, me thought, was most silie and pitifull, hauing no­thing in the worlde to salue it with but onely Extraordina­rie, Extraordinarie.

Wherevpon he fell in some earnest manner to question and expostulate with me, what I thought, whether all ex­traordinarie callings were nowe ceased, & whether it w [...] not possible that a man should haue anie particular reuela­tions in this age, aswell as in former times, greatly comp [...]ay­ning that Maister Cart. and Maister Egerton, with all [...]he godlie preachers about the Citie, aswell those in prison, as at libertie, should be of that iudgement, That we were not to rest vpon anie of those extraordinarie reuelations in this age, but rather to accompt of them as deceitfull suggestions of Sathan, &c.

To which effecte I remember, as his custome was to haue his bosome full of papers, copies of letters, and such like, (because he saied he loued to keepe his reckonings about him, that he might walke surelie) he drewe out certeyne notes, either of his owne hande, or of some of theirs, wher­by was manifestlie refuted that fond opinion of his concer­ning reuelations: all which, as he shewed me one by one, so he forgate not to tell me still by the way, howe weake their reasons were, to this end (as it should seeme) that he might thereby, with more ease, fasten this conceite vppon me, and drawe me, if he could, to be of his minde.

Wherein, Madame, as in manie other things, albeit there bee good cause why I should be reasonably acquainted with mine owne weakenesse, yet finding my selfe (vpon the conference I had with Maister Cart. and others) sufficient­lie armed, as I thought, to withstande a greater assault then this, I dealt plainlie and roundly with Maister Copinger, and did assure him for a full and flatte resolution, that for mine owne part I was altogither of the iudgement of those god­lie Ministers he spake of, not that I did therein or in anie thing els, relye my selfe wholy vpon men, were they neuer so reuerend, but that I sawe no warrāt for those his dreames and imaginations out of the worde. And nowe that the Lord had thus at large reuealed his will vnto vs, euen suf­ficient to make the man of God perfect, if mine owne Fa­ther were aliue and should tell me of anie other reuelations then that, I durst not hearken or giue eare vnto him, being a thing verie daungerous and deceitfull for anie man to ground vppon. And therefore if I were as you, Maister Co­pinger (for those, I assure you, were my wordes vnto him) I would rather suspecte this that you speake of to be some meere illusion of the Deuill, then any sounde reuelation from God, &c. Well, saith he, Maister Throk. (striking his hande vpon the deske that was by me) what so euer you and others doe thinke of the [Page] strangenesse and impossibilitie hereof, I am out of doubt of the trueth of it, being more then once, or twice, and that after many conflictes, agonies and trialls, assured thereof, euen by the holy ghost him selfe from heauen: and that the Lorde him selfe hath appointed me, for some speciall work of his to his glorie: In which speeches of his me thought I sawe some wilde and strange cast of his countenance.

Nowe when he sawe that after all these his perswasions, protestations, and fearfull imprecations, he could by no meanes fasten vpon me any liking of these his extraordina­rie reuelations (though he often alleadged Maister Knox, and some others vnto me) he grew in th'end to this, that there was a worke to be done, for the Church, which the Lord would not haue wrought by such men of great giftes as Maister Egerton, Maister Cart. and my selfe were (for so it pleased him to couple vs togither.) But this must be effec­ted, forsooth, by men of base accompte, of no giftes, & such as are (as it were) the verie abiectes of th'earth: For euer, saieth he, the Lorde woorketh the greatest woorkes by the weakest instruments. And herevpon it was that he began to commende and extoll this Hacket vnto me, as a very rare & notable man, and yet such a one as could not reade a letter on the booke: One that in deede had bene (as he saied) a vile and prophane wretch in his dayes, but was wonder­fullie altered and come home. A man that would not sticke in all humilitie to acknowledge the sinne of his former life with detestation, and was nowe become a conuert, for­sooth, and a diligent hearer of the woord. To this effect (I assure you) and with manie moe wordes then I can well vtter, did he blaze out the praises of this newe prophet of his. And then, seeing some others come vp to me about busines, he snatched vp his papers, and thrusting them into his bosome, he tooke his leaue for that time.

But you must vnderstande, Madame, that before this [Page] conference of ours, he wrote vnto me, and finding belike that my answere was not to his satisfaction, he founde this meanes to steale vpon me, as I haue described. His letter was to the very same effecte as his speeches were, to witte: That he hoped to liue to doo some seruice to the Church of God. That what so euer perswasions men vsed vnto him to desist and breake off his course, yet he had no cause to be discouraged, because he had his warrant from heauen: Further, that with the Lorde the greatest workes were euer brought to passe by the weakest instrumentes, &c.

Implying & enforcing still that this Hacket, forsooth (whom all this while I neuer sawe nor heard of, but by Copingers re­port) must be the man that must doe the feate, because hee was a weake one and vnlearned.

Vnto this letter of his (purposelie to aduise him to be­ware what he did, and to looke before he leapt) I wrote him that answere which they haue nowe in their handes, and which Maister Copinger kept in his bosome among other pa­pers, euen the same that desperate Maister Sutcliffe, and the Pretended conspiracie, haue thus printed and published by patches and pieces, with so manie &c. I muse they would not publishe it altogither, as it was, vnmangled, It had sure bene a great deale fairer play, especiallie in a cause that con­cernes (as is pretended) a mans life, credite and good name. I thanke God, Madame, if they doe not adde or enlarge, or if they doe not curtaile it, clippe it, enterline it, and trans­forme it, I doe not feare the view of that letter to be presen­ted at anie time, before the Lordes, and my selfe to be cen­sured and punished, as they in their wisedomes shall thinke my ouersight that way to deserue. For vnlesse I greatlie de­ceyue my selfe, the very shreades of that letter, which they haue thus dismembred, renting one clause from another, yea, and, by their leaue, altering and ouerstrayninge some wordes too, doe notwithstāding (if they be rightly weigh­ed) sufficienlie cleare me in th'eies of all vnpartiall and in­different [Page] minded men. And yet it may be they knowe that the whole letter would haue cleared the suspicion much more, Therefore vtterly to suppresse that whiche would cleare a Puritane most was for them the wisest though per­aduenture not the conscionablest course.

It may be (and it is like enough if they haue all his papers) that they haue also another short letter of mine in aunswere to another of Maister Copingers, who writing vnto me thus: Deare brother, I hope, ere it be long, you shall see an alteration: I an­swered him euen vnder the same letter, both in one paper thus: Such an alteration as would breede a reformation and not a confusion, I would be hartilie glad of, and I doe daily pray for. See­ing they are so ful of their printing, I would wishe they had bene so kind-harted to haue printed this too.

Nowe that your Honor may the better iudge, whether I be herein injured or no, or whether it be vpon the spleene (as it were) without cause, that I doe thus complaine, It may please you a little to consider with me of these fewe parti­culars ensuing.

First, whereas Maister Copinger in his letter seemed to be sorie that I should be one of those that did condemne his course, and I assured him that as I was not ouer hastie to condemne him in a matter that I knew not of, nor had anie acquaintance with, but only hearde of at the second hand, as it were, by certeine buzzes & flying reportes abroad, &c. All that former part of my letter, & those wordes that make so manifestly and apparauntlie for my clearing, and where­in I doe vtterlie disavowe all knowledge and acquaintance with those courses of his (because they would so faine haue me seeme guiltie) is quite left out & suppressed: not a word of that I warrant you.

Then whereas the whole drift and scope of my letter is a meere disswasion of Maister Copinger to goe on with anie sole or singular course of his owne head, and that hee take [Page] both his eyes in his handes, and be sure of his grounde be­fore he striue to put any thing in execution: they haue la­boured to invert all, strayning and stretchinge both my words and meaning quite against the haire, as may appeare by their marginall note striue to put in execution? whereby they would make the world beleeue (if they could) that Throk. was no disswader, but rather an encourager and eg­ger on of Copinger, to put in execution that which before he had conceiued in his braine.

And nowe to mende the matter, in the necke of this comes Maister Su [...]cliffe with his vie, offring me full as hard measure as all this comes too, and thereof I make your La. the iudge. For whereas in the feeling and experience of mine owne weaknesse and wantes, I dare not boast nor take vppon me the name of a sanctified heart, he verie kindly, I thanke him, settes his brand vpon me in the margine in this manner: A sanctified Puritane. The thing that I doe appa­rantlie disavowe and renounce as not daring to boast of, it pleaseth him, in his girding manner, to vpbraied me with, as if I did arrogantlie assume it vnto my selfe: so that you see I can escape him no way. Nay it seemeth he is so eger and sharpe sett to snappe and bite at me, that he will not giue me leaue to speak sometimes the very language of Cha­naan: no not as the holy Ghost him selfe speaketh in the Scripture, but I shall beare a blowe for it. Him selfe know­eth (I doubt not) better then I, that it is th'vsuall phrase with the Hebrewes to say, The first Moneth: The fifte Moneth-The seauenth Moneth: The nienth Moneth. And albeit I holde it not vnlawfull to name and write the Monethes as we vsuallie doe, as March, Aprill, May, &c. So yet for a man once or twice in his life to vse the phrase of the holy Scripture, and say, The fift Moneth, should not, me thinkes, in equitie (if it be rightly weighed) deserue so great a reproch. And I muse if Maister Sutcliffe should comment vpon the tenth chapter [Page] of Ezra, where it is said, That the people sate downe and trembled before the Lorde the twentieth day of the nienth moneth. And a­gaine, Th'auncient heades sate downe to examine the matter, the first day of the tenth Moneth. I muse, I saye, if he should com­ment vpon this, whether he would therevpon make such a marginall glosse, as he hath done vpon my poore letter, This is the newe absurde Consistorian stile.

Wherein yet your La. may see howe easelie a wise man may ouerslip him selfe in his distemperature. For if it be true that this manner of writinge, The fourth Moneth, The fift Moneth, The eight Moneth, &c. (which is so ill taken and so scornefullie disgeasted by Maister Sutcliffe) bee not onely the phrase of poore Maister Caluin, or Beza, or barelie a Ge­neuian deuise (for then, I feare me, he would goe nighe to treade it vnder his feete, and rent the record with his teeth,) but also th'usuall phrase of the Bishops them selues, in the translation of their great Bibles, commaunded and enioy­ned to be reade in Churches. If this, I say, may be prooued (as it is manifest and apparaunt to all that will not wilfullie muffle them selues) then must it needs be that he hath here­in, in a sorte, done him selfe a piece of iniurie, and that in le­ueling thus greedilie at me, he hath vnaduisedly rushed vp­pon some of his dearest friendes, whom I am sure he would be loth to offende. If he say that they doe but translate so, and I doe write so: It will be but a silie & slender voydance of the matter. For, I hope, he will not say that his Graue fa­thers doe either in their writing or in their trrnslation vse anie, Newe, absurde, Puritane or Consistorian stile, which, hee knowes, they might easelie avoied, if there were anie such absurditie in the matter as hee would beare vs in hande, and translate for The first Moneth, March. For the seconde Aprill, and so of the rest, if it pleased them. Therefore if Maister Sutcliffe should say neuer so constantly, nay if hee should sweare vnto me, that this maner of writing were absurd and [Page] Consistorianlike, he must pardon me, I could not beleeue it, my reason is, because the Bishops them selues doe vse it. And where doe they vse it? Euen there, where I presume they would be most afraied to vse anie straunge, absurd, or vnwarrantable speach, to wit, in the holy scriptures of God, which they know are to bee handled with all pietie and re­uerence, as may most tende to th'edification of the people of God. If then it be in no sorte absurde in them, no more, say I, can it be in me, seeing the very same phrase that I haue vsed but once onely in my Letter, they haue vsed in their translation aboue twentie times, and yet it were heard, he knowes, to coumpt them eyther Precisians or Disciplina­rians for all that.

By this, Madame, and the rest, your La. may easilie see, that I am both vncharitablie and vnchristianlie dealt with. And yet to speak indifferentlie, I ought not in some regard to thinke much of it, or take it to harte, when so reuerend a man as Maister Egerton is, (for whose holy prayers I doe not doubt but her Maiestie and the whole State doeth pros­per the better) can by no meanes escape the stinge of their envenomed mouthes.

It may be your La. hath heard howe learnedly & round­lie Maister Sutcliffe did confute him of late in Pawles, euen since the publishing of his last declamation, and that to his face before D. White, and others. I was not by my selfe, but if it be as I haue heard, the speeches were so opprobrious, as I am halfe ashamed to set downe with my penne, remem­bring the person against whom they were vttered. They were neither Greeke nor Hebrewe, nor yet scarce any con­gruitie of good manner, but (sauing your reuerence, (Ma­dame) plaine Scabbe, and scurvey Iacke. In which veine of kitchen rhetorike, if they would giue me leaue also to fol­lowe the sway of fleshe and bloud, me thinkes I could easi­lie without anie great sweate or paines (if there were no [Page] boundes of modestie to restraine me) learne to confute the honestest man, and the greatest Clarke in Christendome.

But this is not all: For both he and the Conspiracie doe dresse him another way, though in words nothing so gros­lie, yet in weight and consequent full as bytingly as this, & that by a certeine pretie conveiance or sleight of a finger called Inversio. For whereas Maister Egertons perswasion to Maister Copinger was (as I haue heard) to this effecte and in this forme, to wit, That albeit he would bee loth to quenche the Spirit, or kill any zeale in him, especially in this colde and frosen age of ours, wherein for the most parte men had so litle hunger and thirst after the worde: yet he was certeinly perswaded that those supposed reuelations of his were nothing els but meere illusions of Satan, whose subtilitie he should in anie wise beware of, least he were seduced and misleade by him, &c. Whereas, I say, his speeces were thus fra­med, howe doeth Maister Sutcliffe and The pretended Conspi­racie handle the matter? Why, euen thus Madame, and I pray you marke it for your learninge, because it may serue your La. for a handsome paterne to measure all the rest by. They play Hysteron proteron with him, that is, they turne the catte into the panne, setting the cart before the horse, brin­ging in that first which should be last, and that last whiche should be first, to wit, That he should wisely and circumspectlie take heed he were not mislead by the subtilty of Sathan, &c. But with­all (say they) the saied Maister Egerton concluded, that he would be loth to quenche the spirit of God in him, or hinder his zeale. And why trowe you was this brought in last for a conclusion, which was in deede as the preamble and first entrance into his speach? Because otherwise, it may be, it would not haue wounded this Renowmed Paraphrast deepe inough, nor haue stucke by his ribbes so long. But nowe martialled, as it is, in the rereward and so last in the eie, It is like enough to leaue the deeper impression and remembraunce in mens breasts, that certeinlie, this Egerton (though he vsed a little faire flo­rishe [Page] in the beginning) was yet verie vnwilling that Copin­ger should desist and giue ouer his course, and therefore it was that he would quenche no zeale in him. And howe thinke you, Madame, was not this nimbly and charitably contriued against so reuerend a Minister of the word.

But yet me thinke that which doeth exceede all the rest in weight of malice, and doeth most lay open the very sting and venime of the heart is this, that Maister Sutcliffe will needes make him a misliker, and, as it were, an envier of her Maiesties Honorable, Princelike, and Roiall apparance in the beginning of the Parliament: A thing that I dare sweare is farre from his heart, and therefore what so euer it shall please Maister Sutcliffe to saye in this regarde, (yea though he should heerein write against him till his eyes were dimme) yet I am perswaded he shall neuer while hee liues, gette anie man of conscience and iudgement, that knowes the man, to beleeue it: Nay, I durst, me thinkes, pawne my life vpon it (and so I doubt not would many of my betters) that there is no man liuinge vnder the sunne, that doeth more from his heart desire the true blessednesse of her Maiestie, namelie, that shee might bee beloued of God, and highlie honored in th'eies of men, then doeth Maister Egerton, as may sufficientlie appeare, both by his daily teaching and prayers, whereof there are witnesses e­nough, though I should be silent. Notwithstandinge all which Maister Sutcliffe (as a man that cares not what he say, so he may be byting) will proue it otherwise, you shall see, and that forsooth out of his owne Letter to his brother Fenne, pag. [...] 9 9. For doeth he not saye there, That shee went thither meta polles phantasias, that is, (as he interpretes it) with great ostentation and pompe. Which wordes (sayeth he) Sainct Paul vseth condemning the vanitie of Agrippa and Beronice. Wherein, Madame, eyther through his hast, or through the heate and vnrulinesse of his passions. (for I will neuer at­tribute [Page] it to his want of iudgement) he hath made vs at the least two or three foule vnavoydable slippes. For firste, whereas hee will needes haue the woordes to bee Saint Paules, he must giue vs leaue for once (because he is a tra­ueler) to aunswere him with the sauf vostre grace Monsieur, Saint Paule, we dare warrant, hath no such woordes: The wordes in deede that he hath there quoted, are Saint Lukes. Who, I take it, was the penner of the storie of th'actes and not Saint Paule. Secondlie, to omitte [...] slippe of Beronice (who dwelles sure either in Rome or in Portugale, for in Ie­rusalem or in the Scripture there is none such to be founde I beleeue) where he sayeth the wordes are vsed by Saint Paule in condemnation of the vanitie of Agrippa, by his fauour and vnder correction we denie that, that, we say, is but his owne comment and conceite, neither are the woordes, as we thinke, vsed to anie such end as he supposeth, to wit, to reprooue and reproche the king with, but onely as a bare and plaine declaration and laying open of the trueth of that Roiall pompe and magnificence, whiche is both vsuall and allowable in great Princes and States in their solemne as­semblies. And that this is true, (if poore Maister Beza, Iuni­us, Villerius, Camerarius, and such as they be, were not of late by straunge mishappe flatlie excommunicated by Maister Sutcliffe for their ignorance and want of iudgement) I could easilie put him out of doubt. For Maister Bezaes woordes vpon the place be these: Hic quidem certum est hoc nomine de­clarari speciosum regiae magnificentia splendorem in spectantium ocu­los incurrentem, &c. that is to say, Heere it is manifest, that in this worde phantasias is layed open vnto vs the beautifull glitte­ring and glorious excellencie of that Royall Magnificence, that doeth flashe, as it were, into the eies of the beholders, &c. Further in the marginall note vpon Tremelius, published, as I thinke, by al­lowance of the state, this worde phantasias is thus interpre­ted, id est Regio apparatu, that is, in Princely preparation and fur­niture, [Page] which can in no sort be taken in ill sense. All which Maister Beza seemes to fortifie and confirme by th'authori­tie and testimonie of sundrie auncient and learned Greeke writters, as namelie, Aristotel, Hippocrates, Possidonius. And if this be so, Madame, then iudge you, I pray you, who was more to blame he which simplie and barelie laies downe the wordes of the storie (which the verie best interpreters doe take in good sense) or hee that thus vnconscionablie wreasteth and wringeth them to make a man so well deser­uing of Gods Church, seeme thrice odious and hatefull to the State.

All which considered, it seemes more then straunge to me, that Sutcliffe should be so egle-eieda censurer of other mens labours, and in the meane season, eitheir thorough th'inflamation of the stomacke, or through the heate and vnrulinesse of his affections, lay him selfe open to so manie [...] palpaple advantages as he doeth. I confesse my selfe to be no match for him, neither haue I anie purpose to buckle with him that way, being as he is, a great deale to hotte and to harde for me, and it may be, much better armed to main­teine an error, then such a one as I to defende a trueth. But yet as a stander-by and not as one that hath anie skill to handle the weapon my selfe, me thinkes I could easelie spie a farre of, where he might be caught and crossebiten, if anie man of abilitie and iudgement would vouchsafe to take him in hande. For proofe whereof in the verie first leafe of that invectiue preface of his to my L. Anderson, where he so strayneth and striueth to make Maister Fenners and Maister Cartwrightes diuinite no better then herisie, You may easilie discerne (if you please Madame) howe the mai­ster countroller of others, hath manifestlie broached vs, a piece of straunge and new-founde diuinitie him selfe. All religions (sayeth hee) teache that the Sonne is borne of the Fa­ther, which is the Characteristicall difference of that person. Can [Page] you tell what to make of this, Madame? If you can not, no more, I beleeue, can hee that coined it. I confesse I haue read in my dayes (and it is a parte of my faith still) That the Sonne was bègotten of the Father before all worldes: But borne of the Father (as we in our Englishe tongue vnderstande it) I doe not beleeue is to be founde in anie creede in the world, but onelie in this newe Sutclivian Creede of ours. Further, I can not but muze that [...] being a scholler, as hee is would euer suffer Difference of the Person to passe the print, without some revocation, razure, or correction, seeinge it was neuer heard of, I trowe, before nowe that in the God­head, there should be anie difference of the persons at all, but onelie a distinction. Sure if one of these Puritanes had writ­ten thus, we should haue had olde adoo, I beleeue. As to that other newe refined and farre fette phrase of his of Characteristicall, being so pregnant and proper for the place where it is sette, because I see neither diuinitie nor sense in it, nor am able to discerne why it should come in rusteling heere, vnlesse it be onely for the bare noise and sounde of it, I willinglie leaue it to those that be of a deeper reache then my selfe to make somewhat of it. But one of the spe­ciall thinges that I would wishe your La. and all others to note in Maister Sutcliffe is this, that among the writers of our age, you shall not lightlie finde a more bolde, peremp­torie and resolute man in the worlde then hee. For proofe whereof, marke I pray you, howe of one of the worthiest and most accomplished diuines of our age, and of that con­ference that for th'exellencie of the woorke, is thought by the learned to be vnmatchable, (as if his worde, or a cast of his countenance were sufficient to change the face of the heauens, and to turne light into darkenesse) he giueth this slight and brasen censure, to witte, That it was long forsooth and without effecte. What must such men as I looke for at his [Page] handes, when such workes as that is and such men as Mai­ster Raynolds is, are of no greater accompt and estimation in his eyes? But I doo not thinke Madame, that there is a­nie man in the worlde (if he be not smitten with the giddi­nesse of the braine) that is of his iudgment concerning that Conference. Neither doo I see for mine owne part (if the matters therein handeled with the circumstances be advi­sedlie looked into) howe he could possiblie haue bin shor­ter, but he must withall haue bene much darker and intri­cat. As to the litle effecte he speakes of, Ma. Sutcliffe must par­don me, I will neuer beleue, that all that euer he hath writ­ten or can write while he liues, will euer worke the like ef­fecte in the hartes of men for the confutation of poperie, & the confirmation of the Princes true and lawfull Supre­macie, as that one worke alone hath done. But, alas, Ma­dame, howe shall we doe nowe? Maister Sutcliffe thinkes not so, and where be we then? For what soeuer he avou­cheth true or false, right or wrong, blacke or white, It is bound straight (if you marke it) with All Antiquitie, All the Fathers, All Diuinitie: If he say it once, there must bee no straggering at it, we must receyue it foorthwith as an oracle from his mouth, be it neuer so sottish: As your Ho­nor may plainlie see by this newe Characteristicall sentence of his, to witte; That the Sonne was borne of the Father: Which is (sayeth he) the Characteristicall difference of that person. What can be more absurd and senseles then this? And yet [...] countenanced and guidoned as it is, with Maister Sut­cliffes coulers, that is, with All Religion saieth it, All Religi­on saith it, It must, you see, marche on without an encoun­ter, or els there will be no hoe with him.

And yet for his owne sake I would this were the worst thing in him, then should neuer, I trowe, so many inno­cent and guiltlesse haue bene thus vily and iniurioussie bee besprinkled with the gall and vineger of his penne, as haue [Page] bene of late to the triumphe and reioycing of th'adversarie, and to the griefe of those that loue the trueth. And surelie, Madame, when I lay before me this deadly sting and blou­die minded drift of Maister Sutcliffes (for I can call it no bet­ter) in that he would so faine haue Maister Cart. and Mai­ster Egerton, with so manie woorthie men, to be traitours & conspiratours with Hacket, and Maister Vdall (for the pure loue he beares him) honored with the gibbet, I could, me thinkes, in [...] regard (if I had anie acquaintance with him) finde in my harte to befriende him a little with my poore advise, if I thought hee would take it well at my handes, to witte, That seeing the Revenger of th'innocent and afflicted is mightie, and able, as he knowes, to grinde their op­pressors and backbitors into pouder, he would (for all this huffing and heate of distemperature) at length yet bethinke him selfe, and beware howe he goes on anie further in his vnchristianlike veine of bytinge and bitternesse, especiallie against such men whom their greatest adversaries (if they haue not quite abandoned all modestie and shamefastnesse) doe yet sometimes reverentlie accoumpt of: as may appeare by the late politicke treatise of Mai. Hookers, who (though hee bee asmuch distasted with the Discipline, and, for anie thing I see, as stronglie bewitched, and euerie way as deepe­lie interessed in the case of the Hierarchie, as Maister Sutc.) doeth yet in wordes at least (and I hope from his hearte) vouchsafe to honor them and beblesse them with manie reuerent and brotherlie tearmes, as Right well affected, and most religiouslie inclined mindes, and such like: And yet me thinkes, to speake indifferentlie, they should not bee verie well affected neither if they should be as Maister Sutcliffe would haue them, that is, guiltie of anie practise or conspi­racie against her Maiestie. Wherevpon, if I might, I would gladlie knowe for my learning, what point of Cosmogra­phie Maister Sutcliffe holdes this to bee, namelie, to presse [Page] men so egerly (as he doeth) to the defence of the cause, as­king them whether they be quite spent, and haue nothing to say, but must be faine (poore men) to sende ouer to Ge­neua for helpe, and in the meane season by the verdure and venime of his penne to drawe, as it were, a kinde of en­dightment of treason and conspiracie against them, and so to put them to the iumpe and defence of their liues. A good round readie way to silence and refute men, I trowe: As if it were wisedome or godlie policie for a State to suf­fer traitours and conspiratours eyther to write bookes, or defend anie thing by disputation: Yet me thinkes, it were much fairer play and an evener course, a great deale, to cleare them of treason firste, and then to tender them the chalendge and disputation afterwardes, then thus to throw out the gauntlet and chartell of defiance with one hande, and to shake the halter and shewe the hatchet with th'other, or rather in plaine tearmes to doo what in him lieth to cut in sunder their windpipe first, and then to aske them why they whoppe not or lewre not afterward.

For this cause if I thought there were anie man to be founde in this age, so sober and well qualified, that might heerein be a director to a man of Maister Sutcliffes constitu­tion, I would then entreate him, that when hee writes a­gaine, he would make either Maister Hooker, or some one discreete man of his owne side, his glasse and diall or dire­ction, for the better temperature of his penne, beinge e­nough and enough, euen in conscience (if not more then enough) that he hath thus runne him selfe out of breath allreadie: and vnlesse hee should burne a newe the temple of Diana, I doe not see howe hee can make him selfe more famous then he hath done by this newe emblasure of his. In which regard it is sure to somebody, I trowe, that Maister Hooker writes, whē he so solemnely adviseth & admonisheth men, To lay aside the gall of that bitternesse wherein their mindes [Page] haue hitherto ouer abounded, and with meeknesse to seeke the trueth, &c. Yea and it seemeth by the whole course of his booke, that there is no man in the worlde (if we may beleue him) more out of loue with an envenomed penne, which is the discrier of the poison of the heart, then he. And ther­fore if in this good counsell of his, he did not speciallie and particularlie, and as it were, by name leuell at his brother Sutcliffe aboue others, I must needes say hee was to harde and partially bounde about th'eies. For though for mine owne part I be sufficientlie perswaded, and my heart tho­roughlie settled in the trueth of the cause, notwithstanding a whole librarie of bookes should be written against it (and the more that is written in that kinde, and the more dis­graces that are thus maliciouslie disgorged out against the defendours thereof, the more I am confirmed) yet dare I passe this promise to Maister Hooker, or to any man living of his complexion, that if among all those that haue hither­to sued for reformation, he can picke me out but one that is comparable to Maister Sutcliffe, in that sea of bitternesse, and ouerflowing of the gall he speakes of, I will forth with yeeld him the bucklers, and passe him my recantation vnder seale. So [...] shall be sure to say that which I beleeue Maister Sutcliffe will neuer be able to say, [...], that hee hath wonne one Disciplinarian to the faith of the Hierarchie. All which considered, I could wish that Maister Sutcliffe would something recall him selfe while he hath time and space, and in remorse of that which is past, strike his hande vpon his breast, to some blusshinge and repentance (if it might be) before the day of his visitation, remembring that one of the speciall things that the holy ghost marketh out as ab­horred of the Lorde, is, A proude heart, a lying tongue, and handes that are swifte to sheade innocent bloud.

I come nowe againe to Maister Copinger, who after hee had thus written vnto me, and I had thus answered him as before is set downe, found meanes to steale vpon me once more at my lodging, pressing me very earnestlie to be ac­quainted with that man (meaning Hacket) whom he had before so highlie commended vnto me, redoublinge his speaches loading me with a newe supplie of his prayses, es­peciallie of his gift in prayer beyond all that euer he heard. He tolde me that he was nowe in the towne, and that hee would bring me to him if I would, his lodginge was not farre from Smithfield: I tolde him I was so troubled, and in a maner oppressed with busines, that I could not be at anie leisure, neither could I appoint him anie time, as he would faine haue had me. Well yet (sayeth he) doe me that fauour as but heare him pray once before you go out of the town. I can not certeinlie promise you that neither (saied I) but if I be at anie leisure, and may convenientlie, I will, and so we parted.

But heere by the way, I had like to haue forgotten that which of all others is most woorthie the remembraunce, namely, his discourse of the first greeting and meeting be­twixt him & this newe Sainct of his, which, to my remem­brance was thus: That he hearing of th'vnfaigned conversion of the man, with the simplicitie of his heart, and the rare giftes that God had lent him, being a man vnlearned, did write him a letter to come vp: Which Hacket accomplished accordinglie. As soone as they mette, after some salutations, Copinger signifi­ed vnto him what revelations he had had of late, howe the Lord had sundrie times appeared vnto him from heauen, but he could gette no man hereabouts to beleeue him, that there was anie such thing in trueth, but that all was a meere illusion of Sathan. No (sayeth Hacket) will they not beleeue it? But I [...] beleeue it, and will prooue it to them, for I my selfe haue had reuelations, and straunge revelations too. Wherevpon I re­member [Page] Maister Copinger glaunced a little at Maister Eger­ton and Maister Cart. that they would by no meanes be per­swaded of the trueth of these thinges, whereas this simple man did at the firste both conceiue of it, giue credite to it, and was readie by his owne experience to iustifie it. And this verifies (sayeth he) that which I tolde you before, that the Lord will not haue this worke brought to passe by anie other then by the simplest and weakest. And then he tolde me howe that vpon these speaches of Hacket, he burning in desire to knowe what those revelations of his were, pressed him verie earnestlie to tell him. But Hacket, seeing him so sharpe sett, to giue him, as it were, the keener edge, and the greater longing, did purposelie (as it should seeme) keepe him fasting, and helde of telling him, that there was a time for all things, he had not nowe long to staye in the towne, but he should knowe more shortlie, for the present let this suffise him, That there were manie strange practises and wonder­full treasons a brewing against the Queene.

Heerevpon it was that Copinger, after Hacket was gone downe into the Countrie, wrote those same letters that I before mentioned, to witte, vnto her Maiestie, the Coun­tesse of Warwicke, and my L. Treasurer, from whom hauing receyued that answere that I haue heere set downe, name­lie, That he should bring with him some grounded matter to worke vpon, he writes me againe in all post haste to his newe pro­phet, willing him to come vp, with all possible speede, for he had broken the yee, forsooth, nowe was the time or ne­uer. Wherevpon Haket came vp, and was by his meanes (as he tolde me) brought before my Lo. Treasurer. In whose presence he so behaued him selfe, falling flatte on his face, groueling, groaning, and foming at the mouth, that my L. seeing him, should say: What hath Copinger brought me, a mad man heere? My Lord (saied he) thought he had bin madde, whereas he, no doubt, was inwardlie ravished in soule, and [Page] rapt vp into the third heauen as Paul was: whereat smiling w [...]h my selfe, I asked him what became in the meane sea­son of all those great treasons and practises that were thus extraordinarilie revealed vnto Hacket, and he vpon Hackets worde, had thus ventured to make knowne to those great personages. I looked (saied I) that vpon this appearaunce before my Lo. Treasurer, we should haue heard newes of them. He tolde me, that if they could haue obteyned that they hoped for, namelie a warrant & commission to search and bolt out the trueth of thinges, we should haue hearde more ere this, being perswaded in his soule, that it would haue fallen out, to haue bene one of the best seruices that euer was vndertaken for the Lande. Wherevpon when I told him that it seemed strange vnto me, that a man should take in hande to waken th'eares of great Counsellours with I knowe not what noise of complottes & conspiracies first, and then to sue for a commission to enquire afterwardes: He choked me straight with his old cōmon place of Extra­ordinarie, Extraordinarie, telling me that we were not to draw presidents of those things wherof there was no rule: wher­vnto I replied, that though their supposed revelations were (as they saied) Extraordinary, yet the cōmission to enquire, that they would so faine haue had, was Ordinarie: and ther­fore I mused that such extraordinarie men as they, would flie to such common and ordinarie helpes. Well (saieth he) it may be you shall heare more when the time comes. And so he departed.

After this, hauing bene to seeke Maister D. Chippingdale, Copinger meetes me by chaunce in Pawles Chaine, and ta­king me by the arme, whispered me in th'eare, tellinge me that the man he spake to me of, was nowe harde by, remo­ued from his olde lodging into Knightrider streete. I tolde him I had much businesse, he sayed I should not stay, but onely see the man, & iudge of his gifte in prayer, if I would, [Page] which he knewe I would admire. Vpon his importunacie (I speake it not Madame, in anie great praise of my self, be­cause hauing such warning as I had, I might haue bene bet­ter advised) yet thinking it strange that a man, not able to reade, should haue such an extraordinarie gifte as he spake of (though vpon the former taste of Maister Copingers poore iudgement, I did partlie feare before hande, what I should finde) I went, I confesse, with him. And this was the first & the last time that euer I sawe Hacket in my life. And to speak the trueth, this verie once was enough to distaste anie man of neuer so meane iudgement, I beleeue, vnlesse he were bewitched, because the verie puffing and sweilinge of his face, the staring and gogling of his eyes, with his gahstlie countenance, did, me thought, sufficientlie decipher out vnto me, what was in the man, at the first sight. And heere also at this time I founde Arthington, whom to my remem­brance I neuer sawe aboue once before in my life. But con­ference I neuer had anie with him, as hee him selfe best knowes, who is yet liuing to witnesse whether I lie or no. When I was come vp to the chamber, Copinger tolde Hac­ket that the Gentleman could not stay, and therefore desi­red him he might be partaker of his prayer. Wherevppon Hacket clapping to the dore, fell without anie more adoe, to his prayer, euen (for all the worlde) as a man should haue fallen to his sworde and buckler.

But if I shall not lie vnto you, Madame, such a piece of prayers did no man liuing, I thinke, euer heare. It was much like the wildegoose chase, neither heade nor foote, rime nor reason. In steede of desiring God to be present with vs, he desired him to be absent from vs, and so, for anie thinge I knowe, he was, vnlesse it were in his hande of iudgement to punishe vs: for concerning anie blessing to befall vs, sure I am, he was not present with vs, at that time. Many strange stoppes and pawses he had in his prayer [...], and that a preatie [Page] while togither, saying nothing but onelie groaned & mur­mured to him selfe, and then he would suddainlie burst out into some passionate outcrie and exclamation against those wicked Hamans and Traytours to God and the Queene, for that was a great woord with him. As to his maner and ge­sture, it was, me thought, full as strange as the prayer it self, speaking sometimes in a kinde of lowe and base voice, and sometimes againe in so high a voice, that I thinke he might easelie haue bene heard into the streetes: yet were the most of his wordes vttered with much earnestnes and fervencie, with puffinges and bearinges in a kinde of snatching man­ner, as if he had bene halfe vvindlesse, and out of breath. And howsoeuer other men iudge of him, I must confesse I haue liued to see him a kinde of prophet in deede in the right successe and event that his prayer had. For as execra­tions and imprecations were vsuall with him, so I remem­ber this sweete sentence among the rest, O Lorde thou know­est, thou hast revealed sundrie thinges to me, which thou hast kept backe from the mightie enes of the worlde, and if this be not true, let thy vengeance and visible confusion fall vpon me. This I say, I ex­preslie noted. And hauinge liued to see that I haue done, namely, such a sensible hande of God vpon him, in giuing him ouer to ende his dayes in that most shamefull and de­sperate manner as he did, with so manie horrible blasphe­mies without repentance. Who can denie but that Hacket was a right reader of destinies, and concerning him selfe a prophet? While he was in his prayer, Copinger and Arthing­ton did bestowe the most of the time in a straunge kinde of sighing, humming and groaning, & that manie times verie loude. When his prayer was done, which to mee was a great deale to long, vnlesse it had bene more savorie (and to tell you the verie trueth, Madame, I sate, me thought, vpon thornes, and was not quiet in my selfe, till I was out of the chamber, fearing, when I heard him thunder and curse in [Page] that maner, least the floore should haue fallē on our heads) I tolde them I had hastie busines, and so tooke my leaue & gladd in my heart that I was gone. I remember Hackets last wordes to me at my farewell, were these, I should heare more shortlie, and so in deede I did. For the next newes I heard, was, that they were vp in a cart in Cheape-side, and so were apprehended, and their great Mahomet brought to that end, as all men knowe, and he best deserued.

Now when I was come my way from hearing this man of the rare gift, Maister Copinger followed me, and bringing me a little a long the streete, he iogged me on th'elbow, and asked me in mine eare, what I thought of the mans gifte, & whether he were not an excellent fellowe: I tolde him, I mused what should moue him to thinke so, because I sawe no order at all in his prayer, but a meere confused heape of wordes without sappe. And then I beganne to enter into some particulars with him, as what should be the reason, or howe it might be iustified, that a man should dare to offer vp his prayers to God without anie acknowledgement of his sinne and vnworthinesse, as at that time Hacket neuer did, neither in generall nor in particular. Againe, I asked him what warrant anie man had to vse anie of those impre­cations and bitter curssinges of him selfe in his prayer, whereof there was neither rule nor warrant in the whole Scripture of God. Vnto all which his aunswere was still one and the same, not vnlike to the rest of his resolutions: Oh (sayeth he) you must consider it is extraordinarie, extraordi­narie: And I am verely perswaded, Maister Throkmorton, that as Iohn Baptist was the fore-runner of our Saviour in the fleashe: So this man is the very fore-runner of our Saviour in iudgement. At which wordes of his, I confesse, I was something amazed, and looking vpon him (remembring Maister Cartwrightes former speaches vnto me) I could not but pitie the man, with this resolution, neuer to come at him againe, nor anie [Page] of his confederates (if I could avoid them) while I liued. And thus parted Maister Copinger and I, being the last time that euer I sawe him: who, as farre as I coniecture, returned backe againe at that verie instant to Hacket, because I sawe him bende that way.

Not long after this I went to Enfielde to visite my cousin Middlemore, that then was verie yll, vnto whom I reported at large the trueth of the whole, as I haue heere set downe, and howe at Maister Copingers earnest intreatie I heard Hac­ket pray, and of the maner of his prayer, &c. And I remem­ber his wordes, and shall doo while I liue, to witte, That he feared he would come to some ill ende, whiche hee gathered by those bitter cursinges and execrations that were so vsuall with him.

Nowe when I came backe againe to London, I founde this short letter at my lodginge, which Ma. Copinger wrote vnto me from Knightrider streete, and which Maister Sut­cliffe (I thanke him) hath taken the paines to print and re­print, to wit, That much hath bene done since they sawe me, which I would reioyce to heare of, That they desire conference with mee, That the busines is the Lords owne, That some of the enemies of God beganne to be hottely pursued by Sathan, &c. For so was it in my letter, though in their printed copie it be pursued by God, &c. That I receyued such a letter I denie not, but you must vnderstand, Madame, that they had bene preaching in the cart, and were apprehended before this letter came to my handes. But what could I doo withall, if Maister Copinger did write thus vnto me? It is knowne he did write letters to other maner of men then I. I confesse, hee did wonder­fullie seeke me, and labour to haue drawne me to the bent of his bowe. And albeit I may truely say that his vnsensi­ble perswasions had neuer anie taste or relish in my breast, neither did I euer feele so much as anie inclination to bee drawne away by him, yet doo I not, nor dare I not attri­bute [Page] the least parte of this resistance to mine own strength, because the Lorde might iustlie haue giuen me ouer to a weaker assault then this, if it had pleased him. But what will Maister Sutcliffe make of this? Copinger wrote vnto me twice or thrice. True, I denie it not, and good leaue haue he to make his advantage of it, let him hardlie presse it and straine it to th'vttermost, it shall not offende me. What then? Why then, forsooth he concludeth, that Throk, is not onelie an accessarie and a concealer of their treacherous practises, but also a principall actor in the Pagent, and deepely guil­tie of the conspiracie.

This haulting consequent I leaue to be refuted by Mai­ster Sutcliffe him selfe, when he is sober and not all out so distempered as it may be he was when he wrote the booke. He knowes well enough it were great pitie that all they that wrote and receyued letters from Copinger, or had anie conference with him, or anie view of Hacket, should forth­with be reputed traitors and conspirators for that. For the rest I would Maister Sutcliffe knewe, that I holde it not one­lie lawfull but euen my bounden dutie to reveale anie pra­ctise or treason intended against my Soveraine, and that of conscience, if there were no lawe to binde me too it but the lawe of God. Of which sinne, I hope, I may without offence pleade guiltlesse, not onelie before men, but (for a­nie thing I knowe) before the tribunall seate of Christ.

And if probable collections bee in th'eies of indifferent Iudges of as great force for a mans clearing and defence as they are for a mans guiltinesse and condemnation, then mine innocencie, I hope (though it bee neuer so much shotte at by the dartes of envenomed mouthes) shall yet by Gods assistance, escape vntouched and vnbleamished in the ende.

If anie man should demaunde (sayeth Arthington) why I did not discouer Hackets intended villainous practises against the Queene and the State, Arth. [...] ­duct. and repent. pag. 21. seeing hee was knowne to bee a sorce­rer, and condemned for high treason against her Maiestie truelie, as I meane to be saued at the last day, both these matters were vn­knowne to me so long as he liued, and to Maister Copinger too, as I thinke. Neither was I euer any farther acquainted with anie vi­sions or speeches touching these matters, then as before in substance is declared, &c. Therefore as on the one side, I should deepely of­fende the Maiestie of God, if I should conceale any daunger inten­ded against her Maiestie (falling within the compasse of my know­ledge:) So should I displease the Lorde on the other side, by spea­king more then a trueth of anie: yea were it of the Devill him­selfe, protesting thus much in the presence of God, that if I were privie to one evill woorde spoken against her Maiestie, &c.

This booke of Arthingtons, Madame, hath, wee see, th'alowance and approbation of the State: And if hee that was one of the three, naming him selfe the prophet of iudgement, so manie times conversant with Hacket, as­well in prayer as in conference, be thus publikelie clea­red by his protestation, and that taken and accepted of for payement, It goeth harde, me thinkes, that another man, that neuer saw Hacket but once in his life, that wrote and laboured to Maister Copinger to desist, as one altogi­ther distasted with his courses, should not haue the same libertie to pawne his protestation for his defence.

If then Maister Sutcliffe, or anie of his humour doo aske of Iob Throk. why he did nor reueale the treasons & pra­ctises of Hacket and his accomplices, he aunswereth in a worde (and that with protestation before the Lorde of heauen and earth) Because he knewe not of anie, neither euer heard so much as the least noyse or sounde of anie, And that Maister Sutcliffe him selfe (for anie thing he knowes) was full as guiltie, and euerie way as accessarie to those con­spiracies [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] as he.

If it be demanded further, why he did not reueale so much as he knew, namelie of their prayers, imprecations, and supposed revelations? He answereth, that the same reason that moued that honorable Countesse to deteine still in her handes Mai. Copingers letter vnto her Maiestie, without deliuerie, namelie, that there was no grounde of his information, but only his phansie, moued also Throk. not to make the Magistrate acquainted with anie of those toyes and fooleries, without some better grounde [...] thinking them altogither vnworthie of their presence & eares, and fearing (vnlesse he would haue foreseene into th'event aforehande) that he had bene liker a great deale (for troubling their Honors with such a headlesse infor­mation) to haue bin rather returned home againe as wise as he came, with some checke or reproche for his follie, then with anie thanke or rewarde for his paines.

Touching Marten, whatsoeuer it pleaseth Ma. Sutcliffe to say, I hope those that are in Authoritie, & Ma. Sutcliffes betters, are sufficientlie perswaded of mine innocencie that way. And seeing the gentleman hath giuen him selfe a commission to speake his pleasure of my betters, there is good reason that so meane a man as I should allow him a litle to speake per Hyperbolen, or licentiâ poetica, as he doeth of Maister Cart. when he chargeth him with th'executi­on of his brother Stubbes hisHe is not so much as once na­med in his will. will, a thing that I haue heard him say he neuer dealt in in anie sorte, in all his life. And I doo the rather beleeue it, in that in one of his bookes he bringeth testimonie (as I remember) out of one of th'auncient Fathers, that it is either vnmete or vn­lawfull for a Minister of the worde, to be so much as an Executor, much lesse that he should be encombred with anie ciuill office. And such another like tale is that of the sale of his cotaige, and the purchase of his three or foure [Page] manours: which is so apparant a slaunder, as I doubt not but he may be convinced by hundreds that are yet aliue, and I thinke fewe of his owne side so immodest to be­leeue it. As for my selfe and his charge of Martinisme, if Maister Sutcliffe were the man that had neuer tolde vn­trueth in his life, I could easilie in this case (if need were) make some advantage of him for my clearing & defence. For though in one of his Queres pag. 202. he lay all vppon me, I thanke him, Theses, Protestations, Dialogues, & all (and so to speake the trueth, he may aswell all as one) yet in his better moode, when it may be, hee had slept better all night, he franklie cleareth me againe, disburdeninge me of that charge, and letteth not to say, pag. 78. that the no­ble Martin was Iohn Penry, Iohn Vdall, Iohn Field, all Iohns, sayeth he, as for me he doeth but bring me in at the later ende as a candle holder: and no more in deede I am not, in regard of some of those Reuerend men.

But because, Madame, I am to render accompt of my dooings before other manner of men then Maister Sut­cliffe. Seeing an oth (as th'Apostle sayeth) ought to bee th'ende of all strife, I will for my finall clearing heerein (when so euer it shall be thought so good by the State) willinglie take this oth, as I haue heeretofore offered, to witte, That I am not Martin, I knewe not Martin, And concer­ning that I stande endighted of, I am as cleare as the childe vn­borne.

For the rest, that I liue vnder a most gratious Princesse and a mercifull gouernement, I were greatlie to blame, if I would not in all humblenesse acknowledge: and if I haue not bene thankfull to God for it, my sinne sure hath bene the greater. But what Prince and gouernement li­ueth Maister Sutcliffe vnder, trowe you? If it be the same that I liue vnder (and I hope howe farre so euer hee hath traueled, he hath none other) then, if I be not deceiued, [Page] (vnlesse hee haue some charter of priuiledge that I knowe not of) his band & recognoisance is full as great as mine, and he as deepely engaged this way as my selfe. And if it be true that a reuerend Iudge in this lande did once tell my Lo. Chancelour, that dead is, That the mat­ter of th'indightment that passed against Throk. at Warwicke, was in trueth but a friuelous matter, and a thing that hee would easelie auoied. And if it be also true that the saied Lorde Chauncelour (who, if I be not deceiued, was able to see as farre into a man as Maister Sutcliffe) did saye not onelie priuately in his house, but euen to her Maiestie (who caused the same to bee signified vnto me, that I might therein be thankfull vnto my Lorde) and more then that, if the saied Lo. Chauncelour did openlie in Parleament (whereof there are yet liuing witnesses enow) pronoūce, that he knew the saied Iob Throkmorton to be an honest man: If all these, I say, be true, I thinke I may safelie conclude in defence of my selfe against Maister Sutcliffe, the Preten­ded Conspiracie, and all others, that this sparinge course that hath bene hitherto helde with me, hath rather (to speake the trueth) bene a course of Iustice, thē a course of mercie, And that if all things be rightly considered, it is a farre greater mercie & patience to suster Ma. Sutcliffe and such as he is, thus shamefully to traduce whole Churches and to sett his colebrand of infamie vpon the most reue­rend men that euer wrote, then to suffer Iob Throkmorton, to goe in peace. Who so long as he hath his owne inno­cencie and vnguiltinesse for his clearinge, maketh no doubt (notwithstanding all this racking, wreasting and libelling against him) but he shal haue alwayes the lawes of God and her Maiestie for his sufficient shelter and defence.

Thus Madame haue I endeuoured my selfe in that measure I could, to satisfie your earnest request, wherin [Page] what other defectes so euer there bee, I would bee loth, there should be founde anie vntrueth: if your Honor thinke good to make it knowne abroade to others, I am not against it: Seeing my defacing hath bene publike, I hope no man will blame me, if I desire that my clearing might also be publicke. The blotte and bleamish of my good name, hath bene, as you see, publiklie spread and proclaimed, as it were, ouer the whole lande, and my selfe no lesse wounded then in capite, that is in my allegeance to my Prince, and I by this their wreasting, curtayling, and implying, made little better then a traytor and con­spiratour in th'eies of the worlde. A thing that, if I re­member my selfe well, ought, no doubt, to humble me and pull me downe (if it were possible) to the verie cen­tre of th'earth. In which regarde when I looke backe to the sinnes of my former life, I must needes acknowledge it to be iust with God, howe so euer it bee vnrighteous with men. I knowe right well, Madame, what the Pro­phet Dauid did in like case, who when he was reviled and railed vppon by Shimei, did neither frette at this nor at that, as commonlie men doo, nor yet looke vppon the person or vilenesse of the man, with any frowning aspect or revengefull countenance, but on the contrarie did foorthwith cast his eies [...] to heauen, acknowledging it to be the hande of the great God, and to be his dooing: He curseth, sayeth he, euen because the Lorde hath bidden him curse Dauid, &c. I confesse, Madame, I ought to be thus affected too, if I were as I should be: But fallinge short of this, my onelie desire (if it might be) for all the malice I beare to Maister Sutcliffe is this, that in this case I might be credited, and he not. And I thinke, Madame, I haue reason to desire it. In deede if I came to appeach or ac­cuse, there were some reason for a person of your place to make a pawse, and not to be ouerswift in lendinge an [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] eare vnto me. But comming as I doo, in defence of th'in­nocent, & to saue the guiltlesse from obloquie & sclaun­der, me thinks I may by all lawes Heathen and Christian (and that without offence) chalenge as it were a day of favourable hearing & credence before mine adversarie.

I remember the fellons and malefactours standing at the barre, one of the last thinges that the Iudge doeth aske of them before he procede to sentence is this: What hast thou to say for thy selfe, why thou mayest not haue iudge­ment, &c. I could wishe Madame, and my humble sute vnto your Honor, and to all others that shall reade these printed accusations against me, is, that ye would in this case playe still th'vpright Iudges with me, and afoord me but that fauour, which is not denied, you see, to verie thieves and felons at the barre, namelie, that yee would not passe anie resolute sentence of credite or condemna­tion against me, before you haue made enquirie, What Throkmorton can saye for him selfe, why he may not bee reputed a Traytour and Conspiratour as well as Hacket. And if I may be but thus charitably dealt with, that is, if none of these slaunders may make anie impression against me in the breastes and conceites of men, before I bee duelie and patientlie heard what I can say for my selfe, assure your selfe, Madame, I will neuer craue a Psalme of Miserere for my deliuerance while I liue. But rather, if I bee as­ked what I haue to say for my selfe, I will by Gods grace, saye, euen as I haue sayed, and is heere alreadie layed downe to your La. in all plainenesse, and trueth, which I hope is sufficient to cleare me in the face of anie righte­ous Iudge vnder heauen.

Th'issue therefore of the whole is this, that when things haue bene neuer so much wrenched and writhed, yea and as it were strangelie tenter stretched against me, to bring me not onely in disgrace, but in question of my [Page] life: Yet if euer it bee prooued, Madame, by anie acte, witnesse, or recorde vnder the sunne, that Throk. was a­nie wayes accessarie, weeting, privie or consenting to a­nie of those vile practises of Hacket, and his accomplices: Nay more, not onelie in this, but in any other action, attempte or consultation whatsoeuer, if, I say, it may be prooued that euer he had anie hande in anie vngodlie practise against his dreade Souueraigne, from the begin­ning of the worlde to this daye, he craueth none other fauour, then to be made a publicke spectacle, and a no­table example of iustice to all posteritie. Nay hee sayeth further in his owne clearing and defence, that if his verie harte were arraigned in the presence of God and men, he may safelie protest, that he is so farre from being guiltie of that wherewith he is thus wrongfullie and iniuriouslie slaundered, that he is not pri­vie to him self of so much as anie feloni­ous or deloiall thought of her Ma­iestie. If he be, let him not die the death of the righteous.