✚An Epitaphe declaryng the lyfe and end of D. Edmund Boner &c.

LO now the lingering hope is past, that late the Papistes had:
Their braggyng brests which boild in hate, their hartes with care haue clad.
They looked long for wished tyme, of Antichristes returne:
When they in wonted wise might spoyle, and heapes of Martyrs burne.
But sée the prouidence of God, their malice to asswage:
He hath bereft these Papistes proud, the piller of their rage.
Their whip, their sword, their fire brand, of wrath their chefest stay:
The spoyler of the Christian flocke, of whom he made a praye.
For bloudy burnyng Boner now, hath made exchaunge of lyfe:
That whilesome was the murtherer, of infant, man, and wife.
Yet sometyme be a [...]auorer, and did professe the troth:
Defiyng Pope and Popishnes, fiue tymes with solemne oth:
And letted not for to accuse, and note of haynous crime:
Such as were slacke to do the lyke, duryng Lord Cromwels tyme.
A learned Epistle eke he wrat, in prayse and in defence:
Of Byshop Gardiners worke the booke, of true obedience.
Wherin he doth accuse the Pope, his Churche and Romish rable:
Of haynous crimes right horrible, and deedes detestable.
As tyranny, vsurpyng state, reprochefull vnto God:
Of England eke a very spoyle, to Christ his flocke a rod.
He names the Pope a gréedy wolfe, he ioyes in his decay:
Hopyng the truth long troden downe, at length should beare the sway.
He prayseth much the noble Prince, and calles K. Henry vertuous:
That in suppressyng Popish power, he is so studious.
Wherby most playnly may appeare, how Boner had a tast:
Of Christ and of his Gospell pure, tho he them scorned at last.
In Denmarke eke Ambassadour, he published with spéede:
The booke and Epistle named before, as worthy workes in déede.
Then sent Ambassador to Fraunce, from Henry puisaunt Kyng:
He furthered with frée consent, the English Bibles Printyng.
And caused diuers of the same, it semed of godly zeale:
For to be plast within Paules Church, Christes truth for to reueale.
He causde fiue hundred Testamentes, be Printed, this I know:
And those as precious iewels did, vpon his frendes bestow.
But as a wauering weather cocke, Lord Cromwell beyng dead:
Forsaking Christ and all his lawes, to papistry he fled.
And of a Paule became a Saule, a Herode thirsting blood:
As on young Mekins well was sene, his cruell killing moode.
For when one quest had cleard the boy, and iudgd him giltles quite:
He causd another Quest be cald, and him condemnd by might.
Thus draue he forth kyng Henries dayes, but when his noble sonne:
In fathers place to regall throne, by due desent was come.
Then cald to count for his offence, as iustice thought it fit:
In humble wise before the Lordes, himselfe he did submit.
But afterward most stubburnly, with great contempt and scorne:
He did deny his former facte, as one, ere then forsworne,
For which offence in prison cast, where he with wealth was fedde:
Without regard of God or prince, a peruerst lyfe he ledde.
But when in brothers sacred seate, God would Quéene Mary place:
This wilfull man from prison cald, by her especiall grace,
Abusing much the lenitie, and mercy of the Quéene:
Such bloody broyles began to brue, as earst was neuer séene.
And lyke a roaring Lion he, of Plutoes poysoned band:
Made hauocke of the saintes of God, his Christ he did withstand.
He trode his gospell vnder foote, as much as in him lay:
With tormoyle great, and torments huge, the Church he did affray.
And pitie none would he alow, no mercy might him moue:
His broyling brest enflamed so, with popish fathers loue.
With coales and candle light also, of some the bandes he brent:
Of some the haire, from of their face, with cruell clawes he rent.
Some men he beate vpon the face, but some, most like a beast:
He scourgd with whips & rods (O wretch) that dede, all men detest.
And breathing forth his tiranny, consumde with fire and flame:
The olde, the yong, the riche, the poore, the halt, the blinde, and lame.
[...]hat should I say, my hart it rues, the peoples teares recorde:
The wayled woes for saintes so slayne, which is to be abhorde.
But all this might not moue his mynde, for witte gaue place to will:
Both grace and reason fled him fro, his hart was hardened still.
But when God of his prouidence, our famous Quéene did sende:
To stay the rage of tiranny, and wastfull wreakes to ende.
The mercy of Elizabeth, tho it doth farre exceede:
Could not reclaime his cureles hart, which errors still did féede.
But that he vsde vnreuerently, with scoffes in mocking wise:
Her graces high Commissioners, both worthy, graue, and wise.
So when the people prayd for him, reprochefull wordes he gaue:
Most vile, not christianlike, as one that had a soule to saue.
The second tyme to prison brought, where he his lyfe did leaue:
Where learned men persuaded him, vnto the truth to cleaue,
And flie the fancies of the fonde, wherwith he was abusde:
Unwilling still to heare them speake, good Councell he refusde.
So that vntill his dying houre, he shewed no perfect signe:
Of a repentaunt hart or mynde, that would from sinne decline.
But as he liude a lothed lyfe, vnconstant, vile, and vayne:
Forsaking faith and natures kynde, which God hath in disdayne.
His glory aye the peoples griefe, the poore mans payne his pride:
(A wofull flocke where such a wolfe, appointed was for guide)
Euen so his ende was dolefull to, wherin did well appeare:
On him the iudgement iust of God, right wonderfull to heare.
For dead his face as blacke as coale, and monstruous withall:
His grisly looke so terrible, as might a man appall.
Was to the good a very glasse, wherin they all may learne:
To shunne, the way that Boner went, and better path deserne.
Yet tho in lyfe he would not graunt, Christes mercy for to craue:
He wild his wretched Corps with pompe, brought should be to the graue.
Unto the Church whereas sometyme, a Prelate plast was he:
Euen there his solemne obsiquies, and funerals to be.
But sith it was so farre vnméete, a place for him more fitt:
Within the Churchyard of S. George, he hath a homely pitt.
And sith he loued not the light, but did the same despise:
At midnight was he buryed there, from vewe of peoples eyes.
Wherfore ye Papistes all beware, forsake this Romish whore:
And feare the Iudgementes of the Lord, which will you els deuoure.
Recant ye all your heresies, and leaue your peruerse way:
Wherin you walkt so stubburnely, so long and many a day.
Loue God, obey your soueraine, and pray for her estate:
Renounce ye all your Maummetry, least ye repent to late.
T. Bro. the younger.
¶ Finis.

Imprinted at London, by Iohn Daye, dwellyng ouer Aldersgate.

¶ Cum gratia & Priuilegio Regiae Maiestatis.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.