¶THE VVANDRING KNIGHT DECLARETH his intent and foolish enterprise, wishing and suppo­sing in this world to finde true felicitie. The first Chapter.

MANY HISTORIOGRAPHERS both Poets and Orators, as well prophane as diuine, haue by writing notified diuers persons, with their voyages & aduentures. First, Iustin and Diodore of Sicilie haue made mention of the Argonautes voyage by Sea: that is to say, of Iason and his alies, Castor, Pollux, Hercules & other Péeres, to the Isle of Colchos, to win the golden Fliece, which a great Dragon kept. Also Homer a Gréeke Poet, writ in verse the wandring and Sea voyage of Vlisses & his companions, at their return from the Troyan warres. After him, Virgil, a most eloquent Latine Poet, set downe in verse the voyage of Aeneas in Italy, with his for­tunes after the subuersion of Troye.

Now if we come to the sacred Histories, we shall finde first how Moses wrote of the Children of Israel, their going out of Aegypt into the Land of promise, & of the xlij. Mantions that they made in the Desart, for y^e space of for­tie yeares. And how the foure Euangelists likewise most faithfully haue written of the holy peregrination of the bles­sed Sonne of God, our Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ, who tooke vpon him our fraile and humaine nature. The selfe same Sauiour hath set downe a Parable of the voluptuous voyage of the prodigall Childe, and his retourne. Saint Luke very notably and sincerely hath deliuered in writing, the painfull and holy perigrination of that great vessell of election Saint Paule, together with the great trauell hée [Page 2] tooke to preach the Gospell, and the faith of Iesus Christ, to all the Gentiles.

And now (by Gods grace) I mean to declare mine own voyage and aduentures, much like to that of the prodigall childe, who left his fathers house, and ranged into strange countries, wasting all his goods, liuing licentiously, but after he knew his lewdnesse, he returned backe to his father, of whom he was very louingly receiued. So I by great Folly counselled, in absenting my selfe far away, (not onely in bo­die, but also in minde) from God my Father & Creator, haue wasted & consumed all the goods which this same my God & father had bountifully bestowed vpon me, in following the vaine pleasures of this life. But in the ende, I being inspi­red with Diuine grace, acknowledged mine offences, & lea­uing the dark Region of sinne and vanitie, through the aide & conduction of the diuine grace, am returned to mine eternal father, humbly requiring pardon & mercie: who of his vn­speakable mercie, hath louingly receiued me. But how all this hath ben done, I will declare all vnto you, praieng you patiently to giue me the hearing, & attentiuely consider my talk, & well to note the whole, from y^e beginning to the ende.

After I had passed in all folly and lasciuiousnesse thrée wéekes of the yeares of mine age: that is to say, my Infan­cie, childes age, and youth, which make together xxj. yeares: I entred into the age of a young man, which is the fourth wéeke of my age, which is betwéene xxij. and xxiiij. yeares. At xxv. I was minded to make a voiage by my foolish indu­strie to séeke where in this world I might finde true feli­citie and happinesse, which séemed to my sottish sense, an ea­sie matter, being young, strong, wilde, hardie and couragi­ously disposed. Me thought in my mind to liue in the world without felicitie, was a lyfe worse then death. But alas, be­ing plunged in the déepe darknesse of ignoraunce. I con­sidered not that true felicitie was the gifte of God from a­boue, and cannot be atteined without his helpe.

Beeing robbed of reason, I thought it might come ease­ly of my selfe, without the helpe of others: so that then I [Page 3] sought true felicitie, where she is not, was not, nor euer shall be: as in riches, worldly pleasure, strength, honour, and de­lights of the flesh. But I was in so thinking, as very a foole as he, who hopeth with anglyng lines, to take fishes in the Aire, or with Hounds to hunt the Hare in the Occean sea. Were it not thinke you, a great folly so to thinke? Euen the lyke is it, to thinke that true felycitie is to be found héere in this wretched world. And forsomuch as in perfect felicitie is comprehended all goodnesse, and that this world (as saith S. Iohn) is addicted and giuen to all euill, and subiect to hun­ger, thirst, heate, colde, diseases, calamities, pride, ambition, co­uetousnesse, and voluptuousnesse, it is euident that those which héere be liuing, supposing héere to finde true felicitie, are worse then fooles, and voyd of right reason.

True felicitie is not without goodnesse and vertue, which commeth from God aboue. If it be so, why then is it not a most wicked and presumptuous opinion to thinke that by a mans owne industrie he is able to possesse and enioye the faire lot of true felicitie. Therefore euery one that thinketh in this world, he may come to perfect felicitie and true bles­sednesse, shall finde in fine as I found, for felicitie, vanitie: for good, euill.

¶THE VVANDRING KNIGHT DECLA­reth vnto Dame Folly his Gouernesse, what is his intent. The second Chapter.

INtending to take my iourney, I considered that it was necessarie to vse counsell there­in, knowing that whatsoeuer is done with­out aduise cannot haue good successe: as con­trariwise, a matter discréetely attempted, is luckely ended. Then dwelt with me a damzell which ruled my house, whose proper name was Fol­ly, y^e only enimy to wisdome. For euery thing y^t hateth y^e one, loueth y^e other. Ther is as much differēce betwéen thē, as is [Page 4] betwéene white and blacke, hot and colde, moyst and drye, lyght and darknesse, God and the Diuell: all which be contraries, and can not bée in one bodie together. Wisedome gouernes the good, Folly the euill: Wisedome maketh the euill good, when they yéeld themselues to be hir subiects: Folly maketh the good euill, when they place them­selues vnder hir protection: Wisedome draweth men from hell, and bringeth them to heauen: Folly fetcheth Angels from heauen to dwell in hell.

I doe not tearme that Wisedome to know the vij. libe­rall Sciences, the qualities of the Starres and Planets, but I count him wise that hath the true knowledge of God. For, as saith Saint Cyril, Wisedome is that true vnder­standing, by the which the souereigne good, namely God, is seene, knowen and loued, with a chast loue and pure af­fection. Folly, is very ignoraunce, and false worshipping of God. Wisdome maketh fooles, wise, & Folly maketh wise men fooles. Tell me I pray you, can ther be greater wisdome then to serue God with a pure faith, and to obserue & kéepe his holy lawe obediently? And contrariwise, can there be greater Folly then to commit sinne, and to disobey God, by transgressing his Commaundements? It is not possible. For whosoeuer committeth sinne, hurteth himselfe, and runs headlong to hell, which is a point of very great folly. Ther­fore all those that faithfully serue God, and keepe his holye Commaundements, are wise and gouerned by Wisedome: and all those that transgresse the Commaundements of God, are fooles, and fettered to Follye, as slaues and Uas­salls.

When I wandered in wanton wayes, I wrought my will, estéeming my selfe wise, but I proued a flat foole. Thus fostered by Folly, to whome I vnfolded my intent, which was to take vpon me a voyage to finde felicitie and blessednesse, I requested hir counsell, who without regard whether it were profitable for me or no, did not onely lyke of the matter, but also forced mée forwardes, and with flattering phrase commended my enterprise.

[Page 5]And to encourage me therein, she began to exalt my deuice, to commend my industrie and wit, to praise my strength, to aduance my vertue, to blaze my knowledge, to decipher my beautie, and to extoll all my qualities, saieng, that I was a second Salomon, to haue in my head such noble cogitati­ons.

Héerevpon she promised to be my guide, and vowed, not to goe from mée in all my voyage, affirming that she had sundrie seasons made the lyke iourney, and that I should assure my selfe shortly to see the Pallaice of true felicitie. My sonne (quoth shée) I would not haue thée thinke, that anie euill or guile canne haue place in my heart. Thus comforted, or rather emboldened, I thought my selfe most happye to haue such a gouernesse, so wise, so graue, and so expert, for verye ioye whereof, my heart tickled with­in mée. But alas wretch that I was, my desire was al­wayes after contrarye thinges: for I reiected whatsoeuer tended to my health: insomuch that to mée, sowre séemed swéete: blacke séemed white, euill séemed good, Follie sée­med wisdome, light séemed darknesse: And follye had so sore bewitched me, that I neglected to doe the good I should haue done: And I was too willing to playe the part I should not haue played.

It is true that the wise man spake (saieng.Pro. 11. Eccle. 32.) There is health where many doth giue counsell, and he that ta­keth good aduise and counsell before, shall not repent him after. But it is forbidden to take counsell of fooles: For that they loue but what they lyke. There is an olde Pro­uerbe, Such as my Counsailour is, such must needes bee my counsell. It were against reason that a foole shoulde giue good counsell: For this is, euen as if Riuers shoulde runne against the Hill. Nothing canne be compared to good counsel, neither can any thing be worse then euil coun­sell: by the which the worlde is troubled, Realmes mole­sted, Princes defaced, Kinges killed, Empires altered, Townes taken, Cities sacked, Lawes abolished, Iustice generally corrupted, diuine mysteries prophaned, ming­led [Page 4] [...] [Page 5] [...] [Page 6] with mischiefe, and confounded: the true knowledge of God is forgotten, all reuerence to superiours neglected, shamefastnesse, sobrietie, faith, hope, charitie, and all other vertues defaced: all manner of warres both forreine and ciuill, attempted: O griefe, O plague, O cruell monster. Now to our purpose.

¶FOLLY AND EVILL VVILL PROVIDED the Knight apparell, armour, and horses. The third Chapter.

FOrasmuch as men oftentimes do alter their intents, Folly was busie & earnest to force me forward in the prosecuting my purpose, perswading me to put my selfe on the way, and saieng that such good meanings and en­terprises should presently and without nay be put in execution, for feare of inconueniences that might ensue: and that to meane a matter without dooing it, was a reproch to anie person. Whereto I aunswered, that I would procéede, whatsoeuer followed therevppon: but my thought it was necessarie to haue companie, and other pro­uision, as apparell, horses and armour fit for such a voyage. My sonne (quoth she) I will take charge vpon mée, where­vnto trust: cast all care from thée, let nothing torment thée, be of good chéere, sléepe at thy ease, refuse no rest: for I will within few daies, bringe thée all such necessaries as thou shalt néede: and séeing thou hast submitted thy selfe to me, I will not faile thée. Béeing glad of those wordes, I re­refreed the whole matter to her discreation, and tooke my case.

Then Follie was acquainted with an armourer named Euill Will, whose companie she daylye frequented. This armourer was not alwaies occupied in forging armours: but also oftētimes he made shirts, hosen, doublets, & medled in all matters that his friend Follye appointed him to doe. [Page 7] To this armourer, Follye declared all my purpose, and he at her request made me a shirt of lasciuiousnesse, a doublet of lewde desire, hosen of vaine pleasures, armour of igno­rauncie, a corselet of inconstancie, vanbraces of arrogan­cie, gauntlets of idlenesse, a gorget of lycorousnesse, a hel­met of lightnesse, a bucklar of shamelessnesse, a quilt cap of vaine-glorie, a girdle of intemperaunce, a swoorde of re­rebellion, & a lawnce, named hope of long lyfe. Then Pride prepared me a galloping horse, called Temeritie.

All these wicked weapons, with this prodigall apparell, and vnhonest armour, Euill Will prepared me, at Follies request. And what better seruice canne hée doe, séeinge he is depriued of truth and veritie? For, as good will is the worker of all goodnesse, so is euill will of wickednesse. Ie­sus Christ (who cannot faile) saith in the Gospell.Mat. 12. Luke. 6. That of the abundaunce of the heart the mouth speaketh: the good man of the good treasure of his heart, deliuereth out good thinges: but the euill man cleane contrarie. For out of a sacke can nothing come, but such as is in it: and out of a cofer of precious pearles: we must not looke for colebrands.

And therefore surelye, séeinge, I haue Euill will to my Tailer, and Folly to my gouernesse, how can I do other then euill?

¶FOLLY APPARAILETH AND AR­meth the wandering Knight. The fourth Chapter.

WHiles Folly my Gouernesse, and Euill will my Armourer, prepared my appapell, and other prouision, I forgat not to cast all care behind me, as Folly commanded For when I was a childe, I did eate alwayes of the best meate, dranke of the delicatest drinke. I slept when I listed, I laye as soft as silke, I past my time in pleasures, trusting to my gouernesse Folly, in al [Page 8] my affayres. After I passed thrée dayes in pleasure, vppon a morning, beeing in my golden sléepe, Dame Folly came to my beds side, accompanied with euill will, and with them they brought all my necessaries. When they sawe mée a­sleepe in my soft bed, at that time of the daye, tossing my selfe euerie waie wantonly, they sayd, What pretie one, are you yet in bed? It is late, arise. Ah my sweete friende (quoth I) I haue followed your aduice, I haue cast all care away, and taken mine ease in mine Inne: but I wonder how you are so soone returned.

What man (quoth Follye) knowe not you howe dili­gent I am in mine affaires? I neuer rest till all thinges bee brought about, that I once take in hand. Then she put on me my shirt of lasciuiousnesse, (most agréeable to my wan­ton will:) and then all my delight was to be delicatelye handeled, pompeouslye apparailed, and soft lodged. After that, on went my doublet of lewde desires, alwayes enimie to the good spirit: then my hosen of vaine pleasures, tide together with pointes of delightes. When I was full of lewde desires, I tooke pleasure in nothing but vanitie: and as my desires were dampnable, so were my pleasures daun­gerous.

Then as I was (making me readie) Follye commaunded the Clarke of my kitchin, called ill gouernement, to prepare me my breakfast, of light and delicate meates, in dooing whereof my Cooke was more cunnning then euer Cicero was elloquent in speaking. And thus as Folly and I were merrily discoursing together, spending time till breakfast, I tooke occasion to aske of what age shee was, and also what iestes and fine feates she had, what people she had gouerned, and how she ruled them. Shée sayd that question was asked and aunswered long agoe. But as we rid on the waye, she would declare all, in the meane time she sayde, that she was aboue fiue thousand yeares olde. Howe can that be (quoth I) you doe not seeme to be fortie yeare olde. Yes (quoth she) thou must vnderstande, that I was borne at the present houre that the world was made, and haue euer since stoode [Page 9] in strength, alwayes in health, and neuer sicke. I shall neuer séeme olde, though I liue till domes daye. Fooles dye, but (Follye) neuer dyeth. Hauing euer bene in force, I forceablye doe reigne, in euerye corner of the worlde, and doe gouerne as well Princes, as poore peo­ple.

Now to the purpose, after washing in swéete waters, in came my breakfast, so sumptuous, that Partriges were estéemed palterie for Pages, Phesauntes for common folke. Breakfast finished, on went mine armour: but be­ing once apparailed and armed, I cared not for my soules health. I had no desire to heare the worde of God, no feare to followe his commaundementes, or to doe anye thing fitte for a Christian, towardes his saluation. I did what I woulde, I sayde what I pleased. And after that I was couered with my stéele coate of ignorauncie, and my corcelet of inconstancie, I presentlye became inconstaunt and variable, oftentimes altering my intent, not for bet­ter, but for worse, out of one ill, into an other: I neuer cea­sed to acquaint my selfe now with one sinne, then with an other: dooing nothing that seemed good or honest. For such is the nature of sinne, that vnlesse it bée soone subdu­ed, it will drawe vnto it an other sinne: as witnesseth Saint Paule in his first Chapter of his Epistle to the Ro­maines.

Then Follye put on my vanbraces of arrogancye, which made me become carelesse and presumptious, ta­king things in hand, farre passing my capacitie, strength, and abilitie, and not fearing to aduenture that which was aboue my reach, but beeing armed with arrogancye, vp went my curled haire, I aduaunced my selfe ignorant­lye aboue others: then on went my gorget of gluttonye and lycorousnesse, the bréeders of all fleshlye sinnes, and chieflye of lecherye. For when the bellye is full with lyco­rous meates and drinkes, it warmes and heates the other members excéedinglye, which by and by wrestle and striue against the good spirite. But if the bellye were brideled [Page 10] from gluttonye, those rebellious members woulde bée subdued, as sayth the Comicall Poet, Sine Cerere & Bac­cho, Friget Venus. That is to saye.

Upon all this, Folly put me on an other armour, called Vaine glorie, which is of such a propertie, that the greater it grewe, the lesse I perceiued it: then on went my girdle of intemperauncie, which did let loose the bridle of lecherie, and all other fleshlye affections. To it was tyed my swoord of rebellion: so that then I rebelled against God, his holie commaundements, and all Magistrates and superiours. But if I had brideled my boldnesse, reprehending my selfe, my desires and affections, and had rested in reason, without rebellinge, then had I serued God, and obeyed my betters, with all duetifull reuerence. Dame Folly disguised mée with the helment of wantonnesse, vppon the toppe where­of was put a Pecockes tayle: so that then I might not suffer anye checke, for anie fault, but might and did main­teine my opinion against all men, giuing place to none whatsoeuer, learned, or in authoritie.

After my gauntlettes of idlenesse were once on my handes, I greatlye gloried of the giftes which were in mée, vauntinge my selfe to bée more riche, more wise, more stronge, more hardye, more gratious, and in all respectes better then I was. Manye times I boasted of mine imperfections, as of Dronkennesse, Lecherie, and such lyke. After on went my bucklar of shamelesnesse, which béeing about my shoulders, I blushed not to com­mit anye vilanye: I lead the lyfe of an Infidell, rather then a Christian. Unshamfullye I despised both God and man, nothing regardinge mine owne honour, renowne, or saluation.

Then I mounted vppon Temeritie my horse, with a Lawnce in my hande, called Hope of long lyfe. O deceiptfull Lawnce, more rotten then a Réede. Howe [Page 11] manye proper youthes haue trusted vnto thée, hopinge to haue béene safe and assured, and were deadlye decei­ued.

This Lawnce once béeing entered in me, I intertei­ned all vices, it euer hindered me from imbracing repen­taunce, perswading me in this manner. Thou art young, make merrie whiles thou maist, for when thou art olde, all playe and pastime will bée past: then it will bee time inough for thée to repent. Béeing thus gouerned by Follye I thought neither of God, nor the Diuell, of lyfe, nor death, of heauen nor hell: but liued at my pleasure, dooing what I delyghted in. At last Folye apparailed her selfe lightlye, with a Cloake of feathers, and mounted vpon a Iennet, and opening her feathers and winges with the winde, a­waye she flewe, and I also at a wilde aduenture, sette the spurres to my horse, and awaye we went both. Thus you sée that Follye is my guide, Temeritie my horse. Now, the first that shall repent this voyage must néedes bee my selfe, as you maye euidentlye iudge and gather before hande.

¶FOLLY VPON THE VVAIE SHEVVETH THE wandering Knight, many of her auncient pro­ceedings, and how many great and noble personages she had gouerned. The fift Chapter.

AFter wée were so farre passed vppon our way, that we had lost the sight of my house, I called to my remembraunce the pro­mise which Dame Follye had made mée in the morninge, namelye, that shée woulde tell mée of her exploytes past, [Page 12] and what people shée had gouerned. And thus with flat­tering frase I beganne. My good Mistres, my louing Ladye, my heart, my ioye, my lyfe, my lust, my councell, my hope, my souereigne good, I desire thée most earnest­lye (if it please thée) to let mée vnderstande thine auncient procéedinges, and to rehearse what people thou hast go­uerned, how they were ruled, lead, conducted, and counsel­led.

Mine exploites (quoth Follye) are innumerable. Ten dayes are not inough to repeate halfe of them. Neuerthe­lesse to accomplish thy request, and to ease the tediousnesse of the waye, I will tell thee of the most principallest. First the worlde and I came together, and because I founde no man in the worlde, I ascended vp into heauen, and there assaulted the excellentest Angel of all the whole companie, called (Lucifer) who at my present arriuall, en­terteyned and receiued me for his gouernesse, and so dyd manie mo of his coequalls. By my counsell he aduaunced himselfe to be fellowe mate with God, for the which pre­sumption both he and his were thrust out of heauen, and throwne headlong into hel. That was the first of mine ex­ploites.

Shortly after God made man, and of his ribbe fatio­ned woman, these two were husband and wife, with them both I had much a doe, because they were full of wise­dome and reason. I vsed the helpe and subtiltie of a Ser­pent, to tempt the woman, béeing the weaker, who with his deceiptefull wordes, wonne her to eate of the apple, which God forbadde to bée eaten. But after shee had ea­ten it, in the presence of her husbande, (because he feared her sadnesse) hée did also eate, to fulfill her desire and lust: wherein they both committed greate follye, for the which they were depriued of innocencie, of GODS grace and glorie, yea, they were banished the place (appoyn­ted by GOD for them to dwell in) and made (with all their posteritie) subiect to eternall death, it was my second principall exployt.

[Page 13]Then began my raigne in the world, where I gouerned a number of fooles. I gouerned Cain the first borne, both of his father and mother: by my counsell he kild his good bro­ther Abel the innocent. I gouerned the greatest Gyaunts that euer were of the séede of man, as the daughters of Ca­in, and the sonnes of Seth, I made them trust in their owne strength, not onely touching feates of warre, but I caused them also to contemne the word of God, and the knowledge of the same: I perswaded them to vse their lybertie, and to liue according to their lusts, in lecherie, and all other abho­mination, without regard of the vprightnesse of nature, ho­nestie, or the feare of God.

When Noe had preched fortie yeres space of y^e last destruc­tion of the world, these obstinate Gyaunts being nusseled in all wickednsse of life, detestably turned all his admoniti­ons and sermons to mockerie: Whereat God was wroth, and sent a great floud, which drowned all liuing creatures, sauing Noah and his thrée sonnes, Sem, Cham Iapheth, and their wiues.Gen. [...] Then I thought to haue lost my raigne in the world, but in short space they encreased wonderfully. Then I counselled them to builde an high Tower, which might reach as high as heauen, that in despight of God, they might saue themselues, if againe he meant to drowne the world. But God confounded their deuice: and where before all the world spake in one language, he deuided them, so that the Tower remained vnfinished, for the builders vnderstood not each others speach.

Then the posterities of Noah, were dispersed throughout the world, and I raigned amongst them euery where, coun­selling many Nations to forsake the knowledge of God, and to worship the hoast of heauen, as the Sunne, the Moone, the Starres, the Planets, the Fire, the Water, the Aire, the Earth, and to make Idols, and honour them, in the likenesse of men, of beasts and birds, and to worship them, so that the true knowledge of God should be proper but vnto one peo­ple, descended from the loines of Abraham, and they are the Iewes.

[Page 14]Then I demaūded of Folly, how Idolatry entred y^e world, & wher she took place first. My son (qd she) vnderstād, y^e Idola­trie hath bē brought into y^e world by my means:The be­ginning of Idola­trie. For Idola­try took hir first original & beginning in Chaldea in y^e citie of Babilō, & in y^e region or country of y^e Assyrians, in y^e raign of Ninus y^e third king, which was y^e son of Bel, Bel of Nemroth, Nēroth of Chus, Ninus the sonne of Bell, and third king of Babilō. Chus of Cham, Cham of Noah: so y^e Ninus y^e third king of Babilon, was y^e first man y^t did ordein tēples, & set vp Altars to sacrifice vpō, vnto his father Bel, & to Iuno his mother. First he fashioned their standing Images, & set thē in y^e midst of y^e citie of Babilon, & that was y^e first begin­ning of Idolatry: other neighbours & nations did as much: the Aegyptians made y^e like by Osiris, surnamed Iupiter, the true son of Cham & of Rhea. The same Osiris, after his death was esteemed of y^e Aegyptians for his vertue to be a God, so y^t the matter by my coūsell (quod Folly) turned to Idolatrie. For they offered sacrifice vnto him, & honoured him in forme of an Oxe or a Calfe:Exo. 32. y^e like also did y^e childrē of Israel in the desart to their Idoll, which afterwards was named Serapis.

But as yet Fraunce & Germany wer not infected with I­dolatry, howbeit I did mine indeuour to make it more vni­uersal, & ceased not, til y^t shortly after this pestilence had ta­ken root. For y^e aboue named Ninus son of Bel king of Babi­lon, maried Semiramis (y^t wonderfull woman) who (as it is written) deuised, y^t all y^e male children shuld be gelded: of hir body begat he one son, named Ninus y^e second: & by another wife, he had another son called Trabeta, who by right of suc­cession should haue enioyed y^e crowne of Babilon, but y^t his mother in law kept him from it, & tooke y^e gouernment & rule vnto hir selfe, & kept it in y^e behalfe of her young son Ninus. Trabeta then fering his stepmother, fled frō Babilon, & after long trauaile he arriued in Fraunce, Trabeta vvādred a long time like a va­gabond from coū ­try to coū trie. not far from the riuer of Rhene, wher he founded a citie, & called it Treues, which is yet a very ancient citie. At that time was Gallia Belgi­ca & all the country about it, which we call Low Almaine, first infected & poisoned w^t Idolatry, which was 1947. yeres before the incarnation of Iesus Christ. Ther Trabeta) by my counsel) made y^e picture of his grandfather Bel y^e son of Nem­roth [Page 15] y^e great Giant, & first Saturn of y^e Babilonians to be wor­shipped in y^e citie of Treues. But afterwards Bauo, who foū ­ded y^e citie Belges, otherwise called Bauoy in Hainot, had ta­ken by force y^e citie of Treues, & victoriously brought to Ba­uoy, all y^e tresure of Treues, & their Idols, wherwith also he brought his own Idolls from Phrigia.

By this meanes the error of Idolatry was more authori­sed. For by my counsell he built with y^e spoils of his cōquest 7. meruailous, & mightie temples in his citie, which had vii. dores, according to y^e seauen planets, they had also a thousād towres, euerie one an hundreth cubites high, & xviii. foote broad. As for other nations, they were euen no other then y^e Babilonians, the Aegyptians, the Phrigians, the French men & the Germaines: for y^e good Patriarke Noah, otherwise cal­led Ianus, hauing dwelt in Italy 82. years, & being 959. years olde .350. years (or ther about) after y^e floud he dyed, before y^e incarnatiō .1967. years. This good man was lamented & be­wailed through all y^e world generally, but chiefly of y^e Itali­ans, then called Lanigenes, & of the Armenians, ouer whome he first reigned. These people presētly after they knew of No­ahs death, they honored him as a holy man. For in those daies al holy men were counted Gods, as it is often mentioned in the holy scripture, Ego dixi Dij estis, & filij excelsi omnes, that is, I haue said ye are Gods, & yee all are children of the most high. And, which is more: they made him temples & alters, as now a daies Idolaters do vnto y^e saints of hea­uen, I (quoth Folly) made y^e simple people assure themselues, that the soule was remoued into some of y^e heauenly bodies, for y^e which cause they called heauen y^e Sun, & the séede of the world, the father of Gods, y^e greater & lesser, y^e God of peace, iustice, & holinesse, y^e driuer away of euil things, & the preser­uer of good things. Againe, they called his successors, Ianus, Geminus, Quadrifrons, Enotrius, Ogiges, Vertumnus, Iupi­ter, Optimus, Maximus. Thē I perswaded y^e people to offer sacrifice vnto him, as vnto god, by which déed they became al Idolaters, for if they had estéemed thē no better thē holy mē, they had not sinned in that, for in déede he was a holy man. Marke what Austen saith in the tenth booke of the Citie of [Page 16] God: It is not lawfull (saith he) to offer any sacrifice to a­ny Saint, be it Man or Angell, but onely to God. After the destruction of Troye, Aeneas came into Italy, bringing with him his owne Idolls, and the Gods of Troye: héerevppon Idolatrie tooke force, and increased more and more. I thinke (quod Folly) that this which I haue tolde thée already may suffice to declare, how Idolarie entred the world first. Thou hast heard also, how I gouerned Angells & Nations. Now thou shalt vnderstand how I haue ruled and ordered perticular persons.

After the floud, I first ruled Cham, Noahs sonne, who be­ing wholly giuen to the Magicall Art, obtained and had the name of Zorastes. He hated his father, because he loued his other brother better then him. In reuenge whereof vppon a daye he found his father Noah drunke, lieng fast a sléepe vpon the ground, vnhonestly he discouered his fathers priui­ties: and (by my counsell) he presumed to touch those his secret parts, and inchaunted them by his Magicall Arte, so that euer after for want of abilitie,Berosus. he could not ioyne issue with any woman, to beget children. His Father being angry thereat, abandoned him for a season. After that, he became the first King and Saturne of Aegypt, insomuch as the holy Scriptures calleth Cham the first King of Aegypt.

Againe, by my counsell he trained vp his people, accor­ding to his owne nature, in all villany and filthinesse, open­ly affirming that men might lawfully vse and haue to doe with their owne mothers, daughters, and sisters, as was the custome before the floud, and also to commit many other vnlawfull déedes, which I am ashamed to declare: by the which doctrine, naturall virginitie was oftentimes violent­ly assaulted and rauished. Then my friend Cham went into Italy, & vsurped the realme to himselfe. And whereas other Princes of his lynage in Germany, Spaine & Fraunce gaue good examples to their subiects, instructing them in good and godly lawes: he contrariwise, spoyled all the youths in Ita­ly, corrupting them with all kinds of vices, as vsurie, theft, murther, poysoning and inchauntment, whereof he him­selfe [Page 17] was the first inuentour, as all Historiographers hold opinion. But when his good father Noah vnderstood of it, he came into Italy, and hunted him from thence.

If I should write all the euill déedes of Cham, it would be a waightie peece of worke, and the matter would seeme monstrous. But at the last he conueyed himselfe ouer a­mong Bractiens, a people inhabiting towardes the Indians, where by his inchauntment, the people became his subiects, and he raigned ouer them with great force and power. Yet at the last, he was vanquished and slaine in battaile, by Ni­nus king of Babilon, which descended of his race, by his son Chus. Thus (quod Folly) I lost my friend Cham, surnamed Zorastes, Saturne of Aegypt, the common enimie of God & man, and one of the most peruerse & vntowardest Tyrants, that euer was in the world.

I gouerned Bel the second king of Babilon, and his sonne Ninus: into whose heads I put a disordinate raging, so that they desired to liue alone in the world. And to bring this to passe, I counselled them to chaunge and cut off the golden age, which would haue all things common, peaceable, and in quyet. Héerevnto they armed themselues by all possible meanes, vndertaking to spoyle Sabatius Saga, surnamed Sa­turne, King and Patriarch of Armenia, so made and ordei­ned by his grandfather Noah. The same Sabatius was son to Chus, and brother to Nemroth, whom Moses called Saba­tha in Hebrue, which in Latine is Saturnus.

Then the said Sabatius king of Armenia, hauing hardly escaped the hands of Bel & Ninus, he went for refuge to his Grandfather Noah into Italy, & made Noah king and Patri­arch of the Aborigenes, & founded him a Citie on the other side of Tiber, which he named Saturnia: As Virgil declareth in a Passage, where he saith thus:

That is to say.

For Bel the sonne of Nemroth, was surnamed Iupiter. And it is not likely to be true that some saies, that the same Saturne that was chased away by Iupiter, was Nemroth the king of Crete: but the Bible saith, that he was king of Ba­bilon, which was far distant from the Isle of Crete. In those daies, they tearmed the chiefe man in euery house, Saturne: their sonnes Iupiter or Ioues: their daughters Iunoes, and their nephewes, Hercules: so that we finde in auntient Records, many people named Saturnes, Ioues, and Her­cules.

But to my purpose (quod Folly) the aboue named Ninus (by my counsell) after the death of his father Bel, caused his Picture and standing Image to be made, commaunding eue­rie manner of person, to doe homage vnto the Idolls of his father and mother, and to adore them with diuine worship: and so he was as you haue heard, the first inuentor of Ido­latrie. I gouerned Tiphon the sonne of Cham, in whom all his fathers vices abounded. He malitiously enuied the pro­speritie of his brother Osiris, surnamed Iupiter the iust, who was a great persecutor of tyrants. It angred me (quod Fol­ly) that so honest a man liued. Then I caused Typhon with other Giants to murder Osiris, insomuch that Typhon cut him in xxvj. péeces, and bestowed them vpon other Giants that helped him to worke his feate. But the good Hercules of Lybia, the sonne of Osiris with the helpe of his other bre­theren, in foughten fielde kilde Typhon the Gyant, and the other Tyraunts, which consented to his Fathers death.

I gouerned (quod Folly) one Iupiter king of Crete, which countrie is now called Candie. But forasmuch as y^e Gréeke lyars, & other writers both Latin & French, to enlarge their lyes and dreames, attribute that vnto this Iupiter, often­times, which appertaine not vnto him, I would haue you marke well, that in those daies, y^e kings children & fathers of families wer called Iupiter and Iouis, notwithstanding ther [Page 19] are thrée of that name renowmed, as we finde in Histories. The first was Osiris the nephew of Noah, the son of Cham: who was no lesse good then his father was euill. That Iu­piter begate great Hercules of Lybia: who was King of Spaine, Fraunce and Italy. This great Hercules was like vnto his father, a great persecutor of Tyraunts through-out all the world. He begate of Araxa, the young Tuscus, King of Tuscane, and Italy.

This Tuscus begate Altirus Blascon, of whom was be­gotten Camboblascon, which was (as some say) surnamed the second Iupiter, and worshipped in the world. Now this Camboblascon surnamed Iupiter, begate vpon Electra the daughter of Atlas, surnamed Italus (of whome yet Italy beareth the name) Iasius and Dardanus. This the lyeng Grecians, and many other triflers, attribute vnto Iupiter of Crete: which matter is in controuersie, and may be de­nied. For Dardanus after he had killed his brother Iasius by enuie and treason, he fledde into the Isle of Samos, and from thence into Phrigia, where he founded a Citie called Dardania, where he begate a sonne called Erictonius, and of him lineally descended Tros, who gaue the Citie Darda­nia the name of Troye.

This same Tros had thrée children, Illius, Assaracus, and Ganimedes, which Ganimedes was taken by Tantalus, the king of high Phrygia, & sold vnto Iupiter of Crete, to be abu­sed like a Sodomit: which argueth that he begate not Dar­danus the great grandfather of Ganimedes. The first Iupi­ter then you may perceiue, was Osiris, Nephew to Noah: whom Moses named Mesraim. The second Camboblascon, king of Italy, which some say also had bene king of Athens and of Arcadie: but I thinke that Iupiter of Arcadie, who begat Lacedemon, is some other beside Camboblascon. How­soeuer the case standeth, certaine it is, that Iupiter, Ioues, Osiris, and Camboblascon, were contraries.

The thirde Iupiter renowmed in the world, was Kinge of the Isle of Crete: who bare in his Scut­chin and Coate-Armour, an Eagle: but in his manners [Page 20] he was altogether giuen to Folly. For he deflowred Uir­gins, he rauished wiues, abused young children, and com­mitted all kinde of villanie that was possible, either to bée spoken or done. He committed adulterie with Alcmena the wife of Amphitrio, of whome he begate little Hercules of Greece: he did the like with Laeda the wife of Tindarus, of whom also he begate faire Helen. I loath to tell what de­flowrings and rapes, he offered & thrust vpon diuers perti­cular maidens, & faire young children. But notwithstanding his vile life (quod Folly) by my meanes the rude people made him a God, & many false liars haue attributed vnto him, the noble deedes of the good Patriarch Noah, and his Nephew Osiris, surnamed Iupiter the iust.

Moreouer, they did not onely offer sacrifice vnto him, but also gaue him the title and name of Most excellent good, whereas indéed he was most euill: for he was an incestuous and Sodomitical person, and a common enimie to chastitie and honestie, insomuch that people openly in their stage-plaies, counterfetted, sung and descanted vpon the filthy le­cheries and other villanies which he vsed, affirming that such Anticques and Pageaunts were most fit and agreeable vnto him. By meanes whereof, all his subiects gaue them­selues to the same, saieng, that it was as fit for them so to lyue, as for their great God Iupiter. I gouerned little Her­cules of Greece, otherwise called Alceus, the bastard sonne vnto the same Iupiter, whom he had by Alcmena, the wife of Amphitrio. Unto this same Hercules, the lieng Greekes full of vaine eloquence giue the name & title of great Her­cules of Lybia, which is most false. For that Hercules of Greece, was the first Pyrate that euer roued on the Seas, and abounded with all vice, following the steps of his Fa­ther Iupiter the adulterer, in all respects: and as hée liued, euen so he died.

For being mad (saith Seneca) he slew his wife & children, & afterwards burned himselfe. But a litle before his death he made Philoctetes sweare, y^t he wold neuer disclose his death, nor y^e manner how he had bestowed himselfe: which thing he [Page 21] did of a vaine, arrogant, proud, & ambitious minde, euen to this end, that the people might report and beléeue that the Gods had drawne him vp to heauen inuisibly: but it chaun­ced not as he desired. Yet notwithstanding (quoth Fol­ly) I perswaded the lienge Greekes that it was so, & made them worship him as a God.

I gouerned faire Paris, king Priams sonne, whose sur­name was Alexander. At the first he made no accompt of me, but leading a contemplatiue lyfe, he followed the lo [...]e of Pallas, the Goddesse of wisdome, mine aduersarie: but when Iuno, Pallas, and Venus, wer at strife for the golden Ball, which was throwne amongest them (with condition that the fairest of them should haue it) they committed the matter to the iudgement of Paris, surnamed Alexander: who was vp­pon the point to giue sentence in the behalfe of Pallas, mine enimie: but by my perswasion, afterwards he gaue it vnto Venus, my good friend, and of olde acquaintaunce: then for recompense of his foolish iudgement, I counsailed him to goe to Greece, where he rauished faire Helen. Heerevpon the Greekes in a great and mad rage prepared all their force against the Troyans, and after ten yeares siege against their Citie, they tooke Ilion, & put king Priam to death, insomuch that the whole Realme was defaced.

In that warres were killed many Princes and noble knights, as Hector, Achilles, & Paris also was slaine by Phi­loctetes (the companion of the lesse Hercules,) in a combat fought hande to hande. The weapons which they vsed were Bowes and forked Arrowes, wherewith Philoctetes wounded Paris in thrée places. First in his left hād, secondly, in his right eie, thirdly, in both his legs, which wer fastened with the stroke together. Béeing thus wounded, the Troy­ans carried him into their Citie, where shortly after hée dyed.

I gouerned (quoth Folly) faire Helen the bastard daugh­ter of the third Iupiter of Greece, begotten of Laeda the wife of Tindarus, which Helen by my counsell, went from her husband Menelaus, and suffered her selfe to be rauished [Page 22] of a yong lecherous Troyan named Paris, surnamed Alex­ander, the sonne of king Priam. She brought bloud & death to Troye, in stéede of dowrie. For by her occasion Troye was destroyed, and Priam with the most part of his children killed. And to the ende, that her adulterous mate Pa­ris or Alexander, should not leaue her, and goe to his owne lawfull wife Pegasis Enone, she bewitched him with cer­teine drinkes, wherein she was her crafts Mistres: which tricke when one doth vse, he is in such case that he forgets all things past, and all sorrowes present. When she was thus arriued at Troye, the good man her husbande Me­nalaus, with Vlisses, and other Greeke ambassadours, came to fetch her awaye: and king Primamus commaunded that she should be brought into his presence, offering vnto her franklye with lowde voice, that she should (if she thought good) fréely and with full libertie depart againe into Greece, with all her retinue, people, and pelfe. Wherevnto she aun­swered, in the hearing of her husband and king Priam, with the rest of his counsel, and commons, that she was not dis­posed to retire to her countrie, wishing also that her hus­band Menelaus, that good man, might go to God, for she was none of his wife, neither would she haue to doe with him: and that she came not to Troy against her will, neither did she estéeme of his marriage.

To conclude, at length Troy by treason was taken, and raunsackt .xviii. yeares after she had bene from her husband, and all that space had liued in lecherie with two adulte­rers, she grew to agreement, and made peace with her hus­band Menelaus. But when she waxed olde, she looked in a Glasse, and séeing her face farre from faire, she fel in a lowd laughter, and flouted at the fooles that fought ten years to­gether, for the loue of a thing that faded so soone away, but when her husband Menelaus was dead, two chiefe men of y^e citie of Sparta, named Nicostratus, & Megapentus, men of great authoritie, hunted Helen out of y^e citie & realme of La­cedemonia, without appointing vnto her any place or proui­sion to kéep her. Upon which banishmēt she came to Rhods, [Page 23] to hir auncient cōpanion & friend, quéene Polypo, which was also then widow, by reason of y^e death of hir husband Tlepo­lemus, who was slaine before Troy. And when shée was at Rhods, quéene Polypo vsed her very well, but the yong gen­tlewomen hir waiting maides, hated hir deadly: for y^t shée was the cause y^t their king Tlepolimus was kild: insomuch y^t vpon a day they conspired together against hir, & gat hir into a garden, where then fastening a rope obout hir neck, hung hir vpon a trée & strangled hir to death. This was y^e misera­ble end of Helen, who being dead (quoth Folly) I put into y^e heads of y^e blind people, y^t she was a Goddesse, by reson of hir incomperable beauty. For which cōsideratiō, they being, not onely Idolatrously & heretically, but also dampnably decei­ued, built hir a meruailous costly & stately temple, & named her, with great deuotion, The Goddesse of beautie, & deui­sed many fals miracles & lies, y^e which for breuity I let passe. I gouerned (quod Folly) Pharao Amenophis, & Pharao Boc­choris, both kings of Aegipt:Exo. 1. who by my counsel caused al y^e male children of y^e Iews to be drowned, which people y^e first Pharao held in meruelous subiectiō. As for y^e secōd, I instruc­ted him so well, y^t he would not suffer y^e children of Israel to depart out of his land, but in y^e end, being scourged by God,Exo. 14. he was constrained to let them go, & when they were gone, I gaue him counsell, in reueng, to pursue them with al his chiualrie & power of Aegypt, which thing he did: but y^e ty­rant & al his cōpany wer drowned in y^e red sea. I gouerned Chore, Dathan, and Abiron, counselling them not to obeye the commaundement of Moses, Nu. 16. whome God had ordeined chiefe gouernour ouer the children of Israel, but Chore, in offering Insence contrarie to his office, was atteinted, and 500. more of his faction with him. And for the rebellion of Dathan and Abiron, the earth opened, insomuch that they their wiues, children, and goods, were all swallowed vp a­liue. I gouerned Saule, the first king of Israel. 1. Kin. 21.26.31. At the be­ginning of his reigne, hée was good and godlye, but at last I enchanted him, so that he caused many of Gods Pro­phets to be killed, insomuch y^e in one day he put to death .85. [Page 24] I counsailed him to persecute good Dauid, & to aske coun­sell of witches and sorcerers, contrarie to Gods lawe. Then at the last, being forsaken of God, he was vanquished with the Philistines, and with his own hands slew himselfe vpon the mount of Gelboa.

I was also so bold as to enter into king Dauids house, and by my counsell I made him commit adulterie with Bersaba the wife of Vrias. And notwithstanding that Vrias was his faithfull seruaunt, and good counsellour, yet I gaue him counsell to kill Vrias, 2. Ki [...] 1.12 by meanes whereof his sinne might he couered in marrieng of his wife. For the which offence the Prophet Nathan disclosed mée, so that my further meaning brake of, and euer after I was banished his house. I Also gouerned his sonne Absalon, who after he had kil­led his brother Amon, made warre with his Father, and draue him to Hierusalem, béeing nothing ashamed to en­ter the houses of all his Fathers concubines,Kin. 13.11 and to lye with them: but an Oke did execute iustice vpon that wic­ked child: for when he thought to escape with his Moile, the tree caught him fast by the haire of his head, till Iacob came with a Lawunce and killed him.

I also gouerned Roboam king Salomons sonne, who vnreasonably grieued and oppressed his people with taxes, and imposts: insomuch that when they requested to haue it somewhat eased, he did not onely denie their petiti­ons, but also gaue them vncurteous language, followinge the counsell of his yong wanton Gentlemen,4. Kin. 12. rather then the wise admonitions of his graue counsailours, by which meanes he lost the tenth part of his Realme.

I gouerned the great Quéene Iezabel, by whose aduise king Achab her husband worshipped the Idoll,3. Kin. 18 21. Bale, and caused good Naboth to be killed. She persecuted the Pro­phets of God, and made manie of them to be put to death. Shee sought by all meanes to dispatch good Elias, but as her lyfe was euill, so was her death shamfull. For she falling from a high windowe, was ouertroden with horses féet, and eaten vp of dogges.

[Page 25]I gouerned Sardanapalus, the last king of the Assirians, who regarded not the gouernment of his Realme, but liued altogether in delights. He vsed to paint his face, and to appa­rell himselfe in womans apparell, he exercised himselfe in all kinds of vilanie and filthinesse, insomuch that when he sawe that he was forsaken of the greatest part of his peo­ple, y^t he had verie euill luck in battell against his enimies, and stoode vpon no ground frée from daunger of death. It chaunced one day, that being in the towre of Babilon, he set it on fire, and there burned himselfe and all that euer he had. I gouerned Cambises king of Persia, the sonne of good king Cirus, who by my counsel was giuen to gluttonie and dron­kennesse, with other vises, not beséeming a Prince. Upon a time Praxaspes, one of his most excellent counsailours, seeing him immoderatly bibbing, reuerently told him that it was not Prince like: whereat the king was wroth, & commanded him to send for his youngest sonne, who being brought, Cā ­bices caused Praxaspes to tie him to a trée, saieng: If I canne hit the heart of thy sonne with my arrow out of my long bow, is it the feate of a man that is dronke? So Cambices shot, and cloue the childs heart in sunder, shewed it vnto the father, with a warning to take héede how to iudge his liege Lord, dronke. Then I made him marrie his owne naturall sister, and to kill his owne brother. It fortuned vpon a daye, that as the king & the Quéene his sister were at the Ta­ble, for his pastime and recreation sake, he had a young Li­on let loose, and a mightie mastiefe or band dogge that the king kept. These two fought so long till at last the dog was lyke to haue the worst. Within the sight of this game, an other mastiefe was tyed in a chaine, both bred of one bitch, this band dogge, brake his chaine in hast, and came to helpe his fellowe, insomuch that these two dogges ouercame and kilde the Lyon. The king liked well of the loue and loial­tie of these two Dogges, but the Quéene béeinge moued thereat, beganne to wéepe tenderlye. Which when Cam­bises sawe, he asked the cause of her sorrowe, to whose de­maunde the Quéene aunswered in this sorte.

[Page 26] It is otherwise hapned to my brother, then to this Dog that was to weake for the Lion. For thou being his own brother, hast not shewed the like loue & faithfulnesse vnto him, as this band-dog hath done to his mate, for thou hast caused thy brother to be slaine.

The king being sore displeased & ful of indignation at hir answere, commaunded, y^t the quéene should be had away by and by out of his sight, & put to death: the which was done. But as that king came one day out of Aegypt, riding on horsebacke, his swoord by hap fell out of the scabbard, & hée fel likewise vpon y^e point of it, & was thrust through the bo­die, & died. I gouerned (quoth Folly) one Catilin a Romane, a very seditious fellow, who conspired to kill all the Sena­tors of Rome, but he was put besides his purpose, by rea­son that one Cicero opened it, and he with all his conspira­tors were killed in battell. I gouerned (quoth Folly) Herod & Herodias, to accomplish their lecherie, I coupled them in marriage, albeit she was his brother Philips wife, which vn­lawfull marriage Saint Iohn reprehending & finding fault with all, for so dooing, had his head cut off. I gouerned Pi­late, Annas, & Caiphas, in Hierusalem, with many Doctors, Priests, Scribes & Pharises: I counselled them to crucifie Christ, betwéene two théeues, as if he had bene a sower of sedition: which being done, I thought then that I had won all the world, but when I sawe y^t vpon the third day after he arose againe contrary to my reckoning, I lost a greate number of clients & subiects, who hearing y^e Apostles preach, quite abandoned and gaue me ouer.

I gouerned Nero, the sixt Emperour of Rome, who at y^e beginning of his reigne was good and vertuous, but after he had possessed the Empire fiue yeares, he became most euill and wicked, and was giuen to lecherie and filthinesse. This mā was a murtherer, he slew his wife, his mother, & diuers other honest persons, of which number Seneca was one: hée was the first persecutour of the Christians, and put many good men to death, as for example, Saint Peter & S. Paule, with other. But this tyrant being vpon a time vngarded, & [Page 27] wanting about him his lieftenants & Chaptaines of warre, the Senators and states of Rome sought meanes to punish him: for anger whereof he killed himselfe, and the soul­diers that were sent to seeke him, founde him dead in the field.

I gouerned Antonine Bassian Caracalla, the ninetéetenth Emperour of Rome, who by my counsell killed his brother Geta: besides that, he married his stepmother, & desired Pom­pinion (the great Lawier) to excuse his murther. Who aun­swered him, That he was not so willing to excuse a murthe­rer, as he was to disclose him: the Emperour vnworthy of so good an answere, kilde the Lawier.

I gouerned Varius Heliogabilus, the .xxi. Empe­rour of Rome, who by my counsell liued so disordered­ly, that he left behind him no memorie of honest life, but in­famy & shame. This mans own souldiers slew him, & threw him into a ditch, & because his body would not sinke to the bottome, they dragged him out againe with a hooke, & hur­led him into the riuer of Tiber. I gouerned (quoth Folly) Iu­lian Apostata, the .xxxix. Emperour of Rome, who in his thought was so wise, & well giuen, that he was made Rea­der in the Church of Nicomedia. This man trauailed to A­thens, where he studied Philosophie, but he staide not long in that good purpose, for by the counsell of me. Folly, he re­nounced the Christian faith, & became a reuolt & an Idola­ter. I perswaded him to persecute the christians, least they should encrease seauen for one: I moued him also by my sub­tile deuice, to root and wéed them out quite, which thing hée meant to doe, but he was kilde within two yeares after, béeing slaine in Persia, and yéelding vp his euill spirit, he lif­ted vp his bloudie hand to heauen, in contempt & despite of Iesus Christ, making this out-crie. Now, O Galilean, thou hast the victorie.

I gouerned the false Prophet Mahomet, and coun­selled him to make a booke, to intitle it Alcaron, and to expounde thinges in the holye Scriptures carnallye: which he did, and that lawe is yet continued, in the [Page 28] greatest partes of the worlde. I gouerned Messaline, an Empresse, the noblest whoore in the worlde, who being but newly married to Claudius, fift Emperour of Rome (an old gentleman) when she found by proofe that her husband was insufficient & vnable to satifie her lecherous desires, by my (counsell) oftentimes she disguised her selfe into mens appa­rell, and went to the common Stewes, wheras she abused her body with a great number, returning backe no better then a bitch, and vaunted that she had vanquished and gone beyond all the whoores in the house of bawderie.

When the wandering knight had heard these wonderful discourses vttered by (Folly) & hauing in him some sparkle of reason & inclination of nature, he thought himselfe foolish if it were not in him to iudge of déeds so mischeuous & ill. And being no longer able to kéep silēce, he brake his mind to Folly finding great fault w^t this vnsatiable Empresse, insomuch y^t he cried out with a lowd voice, & said: Fic, fic, fic, filthy bitch & vilde whoore, worthy to be tied to a tree, starke naked, & deliuered to greedy dogs & rauening birds, to be deuoured. Thē I asked Folly, what was y^e end of this wicked woman, who tolde me y^t the Emperour put her to death, because she was not content with hir lawful hausband, but married an other man, whose name was Silius. Whervnto I assented, saieng, y^t it was a good deed, for ther néede no more▪ but thrée such detestable filths in al Fraūce, to spoile y^e whole realme. This tale of Follie, touching her déeds & exploits, hir deui­ses & practises, her prouocatiōs & counsels, as it being lōg & straūge, I am not able to repeat as it was spokē: but haue nakedly recorded so much as resteth in my remembraunce, which thing I haue the rather done, to the end that all de­uout Christian readers might willingly learne, & through­ly know, what great wickednes they commit, in following the euill counsell of dame Folly. Euerie one ought to for­sake her, for y^t the end of such as be ruled by her preceptes, tread in her paths, & daūse after her pipe, is proued by expe­rience to be daungerous, deadly, and dampnable. But now let vs returne to our voyage, and former matter.

¶THE VVANDRING KNIGHT FINDING TVVO waies, and doubtfull whether of them to take: there chaunced to come vnto him Vertue and Voluptu­ousnesse, either of them offering to conduct and guide the Knight on his way. The sixt Chapter.

SO long lasted the talke of Folly, that wée had worne out the way well, & the Sunne went lowe. In the ende we came into a straight, where we found two wayes, one lay on the left hand, which was faire, broad, and entring into a goodly gréene Meddow: the other on the right hand, which was narrow, rockie and full of Mountaines. Being then in a perplexitie, and doubt­full which of those waies I might take, Folly told me, that the way on the left hand was best and fairest, and Temeri­tie my horse, kept a flinging to goe that way, so that I had much adoe to rayne him in. Then saide I to Folly, that I feared least the gréene grassie way would lead vs into some ditch and quagmire, where we should sticke fast. Besides that, I was more then half discouraged with hir tales which she had tolde me: and though I in heart hated them, yet not­withstanding custome caused me to vse them, not being able to doe otherwise, without Gods grace. Héerevpon I was resolued to take the way that lay on the left hand, Folly kée­ping me companie.

But as we were thus talking together, I espied two La­dies comming towards the place where we stoode, (which made me very glad) One of these Ladies rode vpon a white horse, and went in a gowne of costly colours, brauely im­brodered with néedle worke, in the which border, the thrée Diuine, and the foure Morall vertues were written. This Lady was very beautifull, and she séemed naturally to bée fraught with godly graces and gifts, she had a neate body, a [Page 30] swéete countenaunce, a modest gesture: hir face was not painted, she was alwaies very courteous, she pretended au­thoritie and reuerence without flatterie, she was not sowre nor grim, but louely and amiable. The other Ladie rode vp­pon a rats coloured horse, and went in a chaungeable colou­red gowne, garnished with gold, and excessiue cost: she wore about hir necke a chaine of golde, with rich Iewells tyed vnto it: hir fingers wer decked with ring vpon ring: she sée­med to haue bene delicately brought vp, hir face was beau­tifull, but I suspected she was painted: hir lookes were wan­ton and vnconstant, and she rolled hir eyes euery way.

This Lady came vnto me before the other, and after sa­lutations, I asked hir, which of the two wayes I shoulde take, to finde perfect felicitie. She aunswered me saieng: My sonne, if thou wilt followe me, I will bring thee a short and pleasant way through a greene Meddow. Be not doubt­full, for I will lodge thée this night in the Pallaice of Fe­licitie: into the which when thou art entred & placed, thou néedest not thinke vpon any thing, but what may best please thy minde and procure thy delight: As fine fare, dauncing, singing, softe lodging, Ladies loue, laughing, hunting, haw­king, fishing, fowling, riding, running, shooting, bowling, rich araye, and all things also that can be deuised to please thy fantasie: all which pleasures, I will prouide thée with a thousand more. For it is in me to bestow such things vpon them that take me for their Mistresse.

With these words I was bewitched, and longed to sée this pleasaunt Pallaice, not mistrusting that she was any other than she said and séemed to be. And being desirous to learne hir name, I began thus: my good Lady, may it not of­fend you, if I aske your name? My son (quod she) such as fol­low me, & haue had experience of my goodnes, call me Felici­tie, and that deseruedly & of good right. For I am indeede, the Empresse of y^e Pallaice of worldly pleasures, whether I wil bring thee before night, if thou wilt follow me. Ther be some enimies of mine, that nick name me, & spitefully miscal me, by false & coūterfet termes, saieng, that I am named, Mallice, [Page 31] Vanitie, Vice & Voluptuousnesse. But giue thou no eare vnto them, for they speake vpon enuie, hatred, and euill will.

Then approched the other Lady, which (after salutation done) vttered these words vnto me: Reason required, that I should haue spoken first, but this painted Pecocke, named Wicked Voluptuousnesse, puts foorth hir selfe to speake be­fore me alwaies, and to take the tale out of my mouth: Take héede of hir, for doubtlesse hir communication corrupteth & infecteth, euen the very best liuers, with the poyson of hir er­ror. Now I sée thou art of good inclination, & ready to weigh thy pathes in the ballance, willing to walke as well y^e good way as the bad. And séeing thy minde wauoreth, apply thy selfe vnto Vertue, continually, shorten the sorrowe of thy soule, water thy will with wisedome, aduenture not thy pre­sent precious age to be boldened in ambition & vain-glorie, detest the daunger of insatiable Couetousnesse, let not thy liking be laid vpon licentious loue, auoid & shake off idlenes, by vsing thy selfe to honest exercises, flie Worldly Felicitie, arme thy self against y^e dart of Cupid, lest at length he ouer­come thée, open thine eares of vnderstanding, and follow my counsel. I am not y^e vile, villanous, vaine, mischieuous, sub­till, deceitful & lieng Ladie Voluptuousnesse, but I am y^e as­sured & safe way y^t leadeth to Perfect Felicitie. And though I am narrow & painfull to passe, yet if thou wilt follow me, I wil make thée merry, & guid thée in y^e very way, which God hath ordeined to lead vnto true blessednes. For my son, thou must vnderstand this, y^t almightie God doth not bestow vpon men perfect ioy & souereign goodnes, vnles they labour to at­chieue it. If therfore thou think alwaies to passe thy time in plesure, & followest thine affection, doing all whatsoeuer sée­meth delectable to thy foolish fātasie, & supposest y^e way to find Felicitie, thou art farre wide, & greatly abused. For, He that wil haue honny, must make much of Bees. If thou desire Fe­licitie, so lead thy life y^t God of his goodnes may vouchsafe to giue it thée. Cleanse thy hart & emptie it of euill thoughts, be firm in faith, establish thy soule w^t soūdnes & sinceritie, be not deceiued w^t dānable doctrine, nor led astray by wrōg opiniōs. [Page 30] This that I tell thée, cannot be done without labour, nei­ther can any profitable or good thing, be obtained without paines taking. Thou seest how Shepheards, Sea-men, and all Artificers, if they growe in wealth, it is by labour and trauell.

Were the Husband-man any better than a foole, if hée should hope in Harurst to reape Corne of his ground, where he hath sowed no seede, when season serued? Euen so is that man meruailously misinformed, that thinketh to atchieue perfect felicitie, or to reape true blessednesse, hauing not first fallowed his field with Uertue, Good déedes, Faith, Hope and Charitie, which is the High way to Heauen. The Hus­bandman doungeth his ground, soweth his séede, grafteth his trées, tarreth his shéepe, & leadeth his life in labour, hoping to enioy the fruit, the grasse, the graine, the wooll, & general­ly all the profite: the expectation and full accompt whereof, maketh him to take paines with pleasure. Euen so, if thou wilt be content painfully to walke this way, without re­gard either of Rockes or Mountaines, doubt not to finde true felicitie.

Hauing heard this long and wise admonition, and mar­king the Lady well, I could not be quyet till I knewe hir name. Wherefore I said, Madame (without offence be it spoken) I pray you what is your name? She aunswered, saieng: My sonne, I am great with God, I am acquain­ted with y^e Saints, I am all in all with Angells, I am much estéemed of good men. Without me nothing is done in hea­uen, and without me no good thing can be done on Earth. I am commonly called, Felicitie, Wisedome and Vertue. I gouerne good Kings, Princes & People: I rule Prelates and Ecclesiasticall persons: I stop the mouth of false Prophets and erronious teachers: I hinder their Heresies, and staye their wicked procéedings. I gouerne householders and their families in good order. I am a companion with the louers of learning. I am a husband to all chast wiues, widowes, & vertuous virgins. I reward my friends in prosperitie, with holinesse: and in aduersitie with kindly consolation. I mi­nister [Page 33] vnto them foode, raiment, lodging, strength, pati­ence, and all things necessarie, and whether it be little or much, they take it in good part. Contrariwise, the friends of Voluptuosnesse are neuer satisfied, although they haue too much.

My friends had rather sing Psalmes, then vaine songs: they had rather fast, then be dronke: they had rather praye then cursse: they rise early, and goe to bed late: they haue care of the Common-wealth: Faith counselleth them, Hope assisteth them, Charitie inflameth them, Wisedome gouer­neth them, Iustice guideth them: and I doe and wil inrich and incourage them, that all the world shall haue them in ad­miration, honour, and reuerence. Yea, though their bodies die, yet their fame shall liue, for others example: and their soules shall remaine immortall, like vnto the state of An­gells. Contrariwise, he that leadeth his life in Voluptuous­nesse, Ambition, Filthinesse, Vncleannesse, or Euil Conuer­sation, if he be not sorie for his sinfulnesse, and repent him of his time lewdly spent, that mans death is damnable, and his shamefull report shall neuer die, no more then that of Sar­danapalus, Nero, Heliogabalus, Herod, Pilate, Annas, Cai­phas, and such like. Therefore my sonne, leaue Voluptuous­nesse, if thou meanest to finde true felicitie and perfect bles­sednesse

¶THE VVANDRING KNIGHT BY THE COVN­sell of Folly, left Lady Vertue, and followed Volup­tuousnesse, which led him to the Pallaice of worldly Felicitie. The seuenth Chapter.

WHen I had heard both these Ladies tell their tales, I was more amazed then euer I was before, insomuch y^t I wist not which to take for my guide. But alas (poore perplexed pil­grime) if I had had but the wit of a Wod­cocke, and not wauered in minde, I hadde [Page 34] followed Vertue & left Voluptuousnesse. But being amidst mine amaze, I requested my Gouernesse Folly, to teach mee quickly which of these two Ladies I were best to follow, for the finding of true felicitie. No sooner had I spoken the word, but sodainly she cast out this language, saieng, that Vertue was an Hypocrite, and that hir waye was painfull to passe. But (saith she) if thou follow Voluptuousnesse, thou séest hir waye is faire, swéete, gréene and pleasaunt.

If thou follow Vertue, thou submittest thy selfe to colde, heate, hunger, thirst, trauell, paine and werinesse: thou must rise early, and go to bed late: stand in feare, weepe, take care, liue in sorrow: and yet in doubt to haue Felicitie at last. If thou offend hir neuer so little in word or déede, she will leaue thée, for she is too seuere, euen in small trifling mat­ters. Whatsoeuer she saith to thée now, she wil deny when she hath thée among the Rockes and Mountaines: she will leaue thée alone among wilde beastes, to lead thy life in the Wildernesse. Wherefore I aduise thée beléeue hir not, and follow hir not. But let vs take this faire large way on the left hand, through which the greatest part of people do passe, and at night we will lodge in the Pallaice of Felicitie. And this I tell thée, that if thou chaunce to mislike of thine enterteinment there, within a daye or two thou maist re­turne, for the way is but short, and then (if thou thinke it good) thou maist climbe ouer the Mountaines, & ride through the way on the right hand.

These delicate deuises of my friend Folly, dashed quite the aduertisements of Vertue, whom (with thanksgiuing) I bid farewell, desiring hir not to be offended in that I did not follow hir ouer the Mountaines. Then Lady Voluptu­ousnesse led the way, my horse Temeritie trode his trace, Folly followed fast at my heeles, Vertue viewed vs very well, & came sadly behind me, euen like one that mourned after a dead corse borne to be buried, crieng with a lowde voice: Ah thou arrant Asse, leaue Voluptuousnesse, for shee will lead thée to death and destruction. The counsell of thy friend Folly is diuelish, she dayly deceiues such as followes [Page 35] hir, hir felicitie is false. The language of Voluptuousnesse, is a méere charme, with which she vseth to bewitch hir chil­dren.

Notwithstanding this exclamation and rebuke, I went on my waye, and could not away with hir Christian coun­sell: which when she saw, she gaue me a furious farewell, saieng: O monstrous man, O bedlam beast, O foole infor­tunate, O idiotly Idoll, O shadow of a man: Thou hast no more sense or reson then a Asse, thou showest thy selfe to be shamelesse, in thus framing thy fancie to follow Voluptu­ousnesse, and to forsake Vertue. Wilt thou imbrace world­ly wealth, rather then heauenly grace? Didst thou desire the trée before the fruite? I see thou art fowlly abused. He that leaueth Vertue, and followeth Voluptuousnesse, is subiect to Satan. Remember O thou wretch, what Salomon saith: For that I haue cryed, and thou hast refused to come after me, I staied till the morrow, but thou vnderstoodest not, but doubtedst my councell, and wouldest not receiue my correction, therefore I laugh at thy destruction, but when thine euill happe and trouble commeth, then thou seekest me, in the morning, when thou shalt not finde me, because thou hast hated knowledge, & hast not receiued the feare of God, nor obeyed my counsell, but despisedst my cor­rection.

Which wordes vttered vnto mée by the mouth of Wisedome, might suffice to withdraw me from my foolish enterprise. But she preached to a post, and Folly whom I followed, did mocke and deride hir, all the while.

¶HOVV THE VVANDRING KNIGHT VVAS receiued and welcommed to the Pallaice of Worldly Felicitie. The eight Chapter.

AFter we had passed certaine degrées on our waye, with vnwonted ioye, Voluptuous­nesse layd hir hands on my head, and gaue me hir best blessing, I letting hir alone (as one to whom I ought dutie). Then vtte­red she vnto me certaine swéete wordes, which inchaunted me. For presently I lost my senses, estée­ming all well that she said or did. After we had spent in sport two houres of the time, the Sun began to set, and so I espied the Pallaice of Worldly Felicite, wherat I was not a little glad. For it séemed to me very pleasant, & my thought I smelt daineties, whereas indéede, all was very witch­craft. When we were within a Crossebow shot of the Pal­laice, Voluptuousnesse hoopt & halowd, whereat came out a legion of Ladies, pompeously apparailed, among whom were these next named: Lust, Prodigalitie, Lecherie, Wanton­nesse, Carelesnesse, Brauerie, Lasciuiousnesse, Ambition, Dronkennesse, Licorishnesse and such lyke.

Being dismounted from of my horse, Folly tooke off my Helmet, and my face being bare, all the Ladies kist me, and bad me welcome: which enterteinment agréed wel with my foolish fancie. Then Prodigalitie and Ambition led me by the hands, Lasciuiousnesse and other Ladies lead the waye before, Brauerie and the rest followed after. Thus we en­tred into the Pallaice of worldly pleasure, the gate whereof was great & high, built vpon Marble stone, & alwaies stood wide open, day & night, Winter & Summer: whereat I mer­uailed much. Then Voluptuousnesse told me y^e reason with these words: I alwaies kéepe open house, for as many as wil, and at what houre soeuer any doe come to me, by night or by day, they are welcome, and I will receiue them royally. [Page 37] Then Voluptuousnesse lead me into a greate and sumptu­ous hall, hanged with cloth of Arace, and full of torches burning round about. There Lust vnarmed me, and Bra­uerie gaue me a night gowne, of Crimosin Uellet, lined with Martine skinnes. Within a little while after the table was couered, in came the fine cates, and to supper we goe.

This done, Ladie Voluptiousnesse put me in the gorge­oust place, and there sate on either side of me, Licorous­nesse and Dronkennesse, there the rest of the Ladies sate down in their degrées: but Voluptuousnes sate right against mée, who curteously carued me of the delicatest meate. Our waiters were young Gentlemen, verie brauely apparailed: our seruice was sumptuous, our meates wer well seasoned, and handsomely handled: our Cookes were cleanelye, our Butlers bountifull: our seruitours verie singular: our musicke was excellent, our Singers were swéete: and euerie Officer excéeded in delicatenesse. There was fine féeding, pleasaunt parling, continuall quaffing, insomuch that halfe dronke and whole dronke was a goodly game: ri­bauldrie was our recreation, and as for knauerie it was canuast to the proofe. When supper was ended, Lady Wan­tonnesse came vnto me and asked me if I would daunce: and Lady Lust likewise asking me whether I would lye a­lone, or haue a bedfellowe. I made aunswere, that I was wearie, by reason of my iourney, and so desired to go to bed. Then Lasciuiousnesse brought me to my chamber, where she lodged me in swéete shéetes, a soft bed, Curtens of Tis­sue, and all things costly and excellent. In conclusion, La­ly Voluptuousnesse tooke her leaue, promising in the mor­ning to shew me the rest of the pallace of worldly felicitie, whereof I dreamed all night, my head was so full of toyes.

¶VOLVPTVOVSNESSE SHEVVETH THE VVAN­dring knight some part of the pallaice, & after brought him to dinner. [Page 48] The ninth Chapter.

IN the morning when y^e Sun beames brightly adorned y^e chāber wher I lay, & perced y^e gallāt glasse windows of costly christal, Lasciuiousnes came vnto me, & bad me good morow, asking me if I wold rise. Wherto I answered, yea, & did so w^t speed, now whiles I was trimming my selfe, in came Licorousnes, & her sister Dronkennes, who had prepa­red my breakfast: anon after came in lady Voluptuousnesse accompanied with Lust, Lecherie, & all y^e rest: shée was ap­parailed more lyke a goddesse then a quéene. Al these kissed me swéetly, & sate down with me to breakfast: which being ended, Ambitiō put vpō my back y^e cape of curiositie, wher­w^t presently I became so curious as could be, in al things, sauing goodnes. Thē I desired Voluptuousnes to shew me y^e rest of y^e pallaice, according to her promise, so we walked together, into a goodly great chamber, hanged about with cloth of gold, beset with pearles. This chamber was pa­ued with Marble black & white, y^e pillers wer Iasper, y^e roofe was Iuory, laid on with gold, & y^e staiers wer Alabaster. In this chāber also was a sumptuous chaire of estate, wherin most magnificently sate a Prince, hauing on his head an imperial crown of gold, beset w^t precious pearls, & in his hād a scepter roial. He was besides y^t, very richly araied, accōpa­nied w^t many nobles, pompeously apparelled. This prince I reuerenced, & he likewise saluted me, giuing cōmandement y^t I shuld be most singularly & excellētly vsed. So we went frō thence, & being abroad I asked lady Voluptuousnesse what prince y^e same was: who said, y^t he was y^e Prince of this Pal­laice (euen my father) y^e only giuer & bestower of felicitie, the which I beleeued to be true, til I found in déed y^t it was Lu­cifer y^e father of filthinesse, the graund-father of gluttonie, y^e prince of pride, y^e Emperour of iniquitie, & the Lord of lewd­nes, a ruler of y^e world, & one y^t had nothing to do in heauen, but in earth, among a sort of wicked worldlings, & diuelish people. This Lucifer arrogātly chalengeth vnto himself y^t he hath power to giue glory, honour, & riches, to whō he listeth, as y^e scripture witnesseth, wherfore worldlings do serue him as his subiects. Frō thence wēt we to y^e tresurie house, wher [Page 39] we saw cofers ful of coine & iewels, which was kept by lady Fortune (as Voluptuousnesse said) & she bestowed al y^e trea­sure vpon such as y^e king commanded. From thence we wēt vp into a great gallerie, where we saw thrée cabinits, y^e first full of fine wollen, the second of pure silks, y^e third of faire white linnen: this place Pompe had in keeping. Frō thēce we went to y^e perfuming house, which differed nothing frō an A­pothecaries shop. For ther I found all things y^t might moue a mans appetite, or stir vp his delight. There were colours to paint prowd women, perfumes & ointmēts to make their bodies soft & swéet, & this place was kept by Lasciuiousnes. Thē we went vnto y^e goodly large vaughts, wher wine of no kinde wanted there, & was dame Dronkennes her kingdōe. From thence I was lead to the kitchins, where all thinges wer kept in order by Licorousnes, whose rule lay in y^e place. From thence to an other great roome, where we saw a sort of young sweet faced boies: Voluptuousnesse tolde me they were Ganimedes & Endimio. From thence she had me vp to a place y^t was builded very round in compasse: which place was meruailous bright & lightsome, by reason of the great glasse windows of christall. This serued them in stéed of a tēple, for they had none other. Here we saw a great nūber of fine delicate dames, excéeding amiable & beautiful: amongest all, one excelled, whose name I asked, and Voluptuousnesse shewed me y^t it was lady Venus, whō al liscentious louers do like notably wel, & honor hir as a goddesse. By her sate a blind-boy, who with his bow & arrows shot at aduētures, & hot my hart: by & by came down dame Venus, & she pluckt it out, reuiuing me w^t cōfortable words & wōderful perswa­sions. And although y^e arrow was quickly takē out, & might séeme to doe no harme: yet I thinke the head thereof was poisoned, for it hath made so déep a wound, as is very infec­tious, & scarce curable, vnlesse with some speciall plaisters. This same Cupid gouerneth al lecherus louers of what age soeuer they be or degrée, witnesseth daily experience: he is naked and past shame, not caring who looketh vpon him, his blindnesse representeth the folly of such as run headlong af­ter lewde loue, setting their feathers in the winde, without [Page 40] respect of any after clap. His bowe and arrowes doe signifie the folly of fooles, which offer themselues to be his Butte, and standeth still while he doth shoote and hit them. His wings signifie the wauering minde of such as he hits, who are quiet in no place or time. For who is more mutable, vaine, light, inconstant, and variable, then the fleshly louer. Some saies y^t this Cupid hath a torch burning in his hand, meaning héereby, that he burnes to the heart, all them that he toucheth. Al this dispatched, Voluptuousnesse and I went to dinner▪ and she promised me when we had dined, to shew me the rest of the pallaice.

¶DINNER BEING DONE, VOLVPTVOVNESSE sheweth the wandring knght, the rest of the Pallaice of worldly felicitie, with the description of the Towres thereof. And by the Author is declared the euill fruite of certeine notorious sinnes. The tenth Chapter.

THis chaunced in the pleasaunt month of May, when loue and lust is most in force: so it was determined that we should sup in goodly gardens, not in banketting houses, although they were wonderfull fine, but in arbours ouergrowne with swéete Eglen­tine, Rose trees, & Uines, faire & cléere fountaines of colde water running by, and fragrant hearbes and flowres, cast­ing a comfortable sent. The little pretie birds did sing round about vs, as well in cages, as on trées, & bushes. Ther was plaieng, piping, singing, dauncing, leaping, embracing & kis­sing: finally, each louer with his lady was merrie, and to be briefe, euerie one did what liked him best, and thought them­selues happie to finde such felicitie. But all my desire was to see the rest of the pallace: wherefore I charged Ladie Voluptuousnesse with her promise, which tooke effect, inso­much that we went all along, to a certeine place where [Page 41] I sawe the verie secret lodgings of Voluptuousnesse. But what they wer, for feare of offending the reuerent reader, I meane not to rehearse, then we went from Gallerie to Gallerie, from office to office, from chamber to chamber, where I sawe euerie place furnished with so rich mouea­bles, and of such choice, as nothing might bee wished more.

Amongest all these roomes, one chamber excéeded in larg­nesse & workmanship, for costlye caruing, & in all other re­spects. Ther I found a verie braue bed, gorgeously trimmed, insomuch that I commended the same highly. Then Lasci­uiousnesse said, that she had charge of that chamber, and if I listed to lye there that night I should. Lust also promised to bring lady Venus to lye with me, I hearing this, my thought I felt the wound that Cupid gaue me, as fresh as at y^e first. Then went we about the walls, which were all of Iette, thicke and stronge. Uppon these walls were built seauen towres, like [...]nto stéeples, and euerie towre had his owner. In the first lodged Pride, in the second Enuie, in the thirde Wrath, in the fourth Gluttonie, in the fift Lecherie, in the sixt Couetousnesse, and in the seauenth Sloath. My purpose was to goe into them all, one after an other. And as I ente­red into the towre of Pride, which was the fir [...]t, I spide written this Posie ouer the Porch, PRIDE IS THE PRINCE AND ROOT OF ALL SINNES. For as a king is accompanied with a great traine of Ser­uitours, euen so hath Pride a sort of sinnes for her subiects, ouer whom she raignes Princelike. Againe, as Kings kéepe and holde their owne aright, euen so doth Pride behaue her selfe towardes the proude. It is a singular signe of a great reprobate and castaway, when a man liueth longe in Pride. For this same displeaseth God more then all other vices: as humilitie pleaseth him more then all other vertues And be­cause the proude aduaūce themselues aboue all other, the di­uell dealeth with them accordingly. For as the Crow when he is not able to cracke a hard Walnut with his bill, set­teth his flight aloft right ouer some great stone, & letting it fall, breaketh the same, & then alighteth to eate the kirnell: [Page 42] euen so plaieth the Diuel with the proud, for first he aduan­ceth thē aloft, & bringeth them to promotion in this world, but when they are in the top of their happinesse, and thinke vpon no daunger, then euen then, comes the diuell, and hée throwes them downe headlonge with a mischiefe, in-to hell.

The difference betwéene the humble and the proud, may be knowne by that of corne and chaffe. For as chaffe being light, is puft vp aloft with the wind, and is sodeinly consu­med, wheras contrariwise good corne lieng low, is gathered from the ground, laide vp in garniers, and estéemed of euery body: euen so it falleth out with the pride of the proud, and the humilitie of the humble. Unto pride do apperteine these vices following, namely: Arrogancie, Presumption, Wrath, Contempt, Heresie, Hipocrisie, Disobedience, Vaine-glory, Ambition, and such like.

In the second tower lodged Enuie, ouer whose entrie doore this deuise was written: A FIRE-BRAND OF HELL AND THE DIVELS DARLING. Now Enuie is a sad­nesse & heuinesse of hart, for an others prosperitie. This sin hath souereintie in y^e bad, as Charitie in y^e good. Charitie is a badge of saluation, Enuie of damnation. The enuious man differs not from the diuell in any degrée, they are partners in gaine and in losse. If y^e diuell reape profit by doing euil, the enuious man will be sure to follow his trade, for lucre sake. And as the enuious man grudgeth at an others pro­fit and good name: so doth he delight in an others losse & ill report. There cannot be a fowler & more cruel sin then En­uie: for she alwaies tormenteth and vexeth her fosterer, I meane the enuious, in whom she dwelleth. He that seeketh to get good by others euil, neuer amends in that mind. And he y^t planteth his pleasure vpon an others paine, shall haue such fruit, as he y^t grafs figs vpon thornes, or wold make fire to burne by powring water thereon. Enuie is a disease hard to be healed, because it lyeth hidden in y^e hart, where the Phi­sition cannot come to cure it. There belongs vnto this vice, Backbiting, Treason, Disdaine, and others.

[Page 43]In the third towre dwelt Wrath, ouer whose Porch this Posie was written, THE VERIE MVRTHERER OF HOLY LOVE. For as holy loue prepares y^e conscience to dwell with God, so doth Wrath prepare it to dwell with the diuell. Wrath taketh away y^e hearing of reason. The wrath­full man will heare the counsel of none. Ther is nothing re­sembleth the Image of God more then man, being in perfect loue. For God will be there where vnitie is kept, where people be at peace, and where countries be quiet: which cannot be in a wrathful wretch. A wrathful man is like vn­to one possessed with y^e diuel, who is euer tormented vntil he hath vomited him out. Wrath maketh men fight, wrath cau­seth blasphemie, by wrath the diuell conquereth countries, wrath is like a musled dogge. For when he cannot bite, yet with snarling he makes others goe together by the eares. And as the Fisher-man troubleth the water because y^e fish should not see his nettes: euen so the Diuell by wrath trou­bleth man, to the ende he shoulde not vnderstande nor per­ceiue his owne destruction. To the wrathfull man be­longs, inflaming of the heart, indignation, disorder, blas­phemie, contention, rankor, reuengement, murther, and such like.

In the fourth towre dwelt Couetousnes, whose Posie is this, IDOLATRY AND A BOTTOMLESSE GOVLFE ARE INSATIABLE. The couetous man is forsaken of God, for he loues his gaine better then God: he had rather loose God then goods. For litle triflles that touch his profit, he sweares & lyes, which is a thing most damna­ble. The Faith, Hope, and Charitie, which he should haue to­wards God, Couetousnes turnes it to riches. The couetous mans heart is all vppon his goods, and not vppon God: for where the heart is, there is also a mans loue. The coue­tous man offendeth in euill gettinge, in euill vsing, and in euill louinge his goods. The couetous man is gouerned by the Diuell, hazardinge his soule to eternall torment, for the lewde loue of temporall toyes. And as the Mouse is caught in the trappe, whilest shée hopeth to gette the Baite: [Page 44] euen so is the couetous man by the diuell, in hunting after riches. The couetous mā is like vnto a hog, whose life doth little good to anie man, but rather great harme, by reason of the noisomensse & filthie stinke, which that nastie beast pro­cureth: but when the Butcher hath killed him, thē he yéelds profite, because he nourisheth, &c. Euen so the couetous man whiles he liueth, doth good to none, but rather damnifies his neighbours, marie when Gods slaughter-man (Death, I meane) comes, and destroieth him, then those that liue, fares the better. The couetous man is like vnto a band dog, that féedeth vpon carrion, and will admit no companion to take part with him, but eating all alone, and filling his guttes till he burst, he dyeth, and the foules of the aire deuour him. The couetous man hoordeth vp his goods, and suffereth the néedie to starue. The couetous man croweth ouer the poore, the diuell croweth ouer him. And vppon Couetousnesse at­tend these monsters, Vserie, Simonie, Fraude, Periury, and all Sacriledge, Deceipt, Extortion, Oppression, & the diuell.

In the fift towre dwelt Guttony, ouer whose portall this posie was written. VENEMOVS WINE, AND DEADLY DAINTIES. Truth it is, that y^t the throate is the gate of the body, you know y^t when an enimie would win a castle, if he once get in at the gate, he makes no doubt of winning the hold: euen so the di­uell, when he hath entered in at the throate, it is no que­stion but he will winne both the head and bodie. Nowe, his custome is to enter with many sinnes, of whome Glut­tony is the mother. For the drunkard & immoderate féeder, consenteth to all vice. Therefore it is requisite to set a good porter to kéepe y^e throat, least the diuel get in. For as a man may lead his horse when he hath him by the bridle: euen so may the diuell rule a man, hauing once gotten holde of his mouth by gluttonie, yea, he then possesseth him wholy. The seruant being corne fed, oftētimes rebelleth against his Ma­ster: euē so y^e body hauing receiued excesse, & more thē inough, is apt to rebell against the spirit. Gluttony kils more then the swoord of the enimie, it makes many die sooner then they [Page 45] should by nature. Excessiue eating and drinking corrupteth the bodie, and ingendreth diseases. By Gluttonie men bee franked, as Capons are crammed. A Glutton is worse than a Hogge that féedeth filthely: and yet the Hogge is like his syre, of whom he takes his manners, and doth but his kinde. They y^t make Tauernes their Temples, are like a Hog wallowing in y^e mire. For as the filthie hog tumbleth in mire & durt, euen so do gluttons & dronkards oftentimes wallow in damnable Dronkennesse and Gluttonie. Upon this fowle sinne, other sinnes doe depend, as namely Grée­dinesse of meate, Deuouring, Daintinesse, Excesse, Dulnesse of féeling, Foolish mirth, Uaine babling, Ribaudrie and bo­dely beastlinesse.

In the sixt Tower liued Lecherie, whose Posie was: A COMMON AND FILTHIE WHORE, DEFILETH BOTH BODY AND SOVLE For the filthines of a Harlot corrupteth a man within and without. Of all sinnes, this sin of Lecherie is the pleasan­test to the Diuel, because it hurteth both bodie and soule and because he was neuer toucht with it, being a spirite, and no bodie. Were not the Marchant a flat foole to make any bar­gaine, knowing before that he shall repent it after? Euen so the Lechourer takes much paines, he spendes his goods to accomplish his desire: but afterwards he repenteth both his paines, his cost & his purchase: neuerthelesse, with that repentance he is not forgiuen of God, vnlesse a full purpose and resolute intent of amendement insue and follow ther­vppon. The Lechourer in his life is thrée waies tormen­ted: first with the heat of the harlot, secondly with the paine of his hurt, and thirdly with the worme of his owne con­science. He burnes in concupiscence, he stinkes with infa­mie, his conscience accuses him for his offence. Lecherie is a ditche, wherein the Diuell hurles other sins. To behold a woman wantonly, is a great alluring to Le­cherie: so that good were it, not to looke vpon hir at all: but much better not to touch or meddle with hir carnally. Sixe other sinnes waite vpon Lecherie, to wit: Fornica­tion, [Page 46] Adulterie, Sacriledge, Incest, Buggerie and Rape.

In the vij. Tower dwelt Sloth, whose posie was this, A SLOTHFVLL HVSWIFE AND AL­WAIES SLEEPING. Sloth is a heauines of hart, & an hatred at spiritual goodnes, wherby a man is made neg­ligent in seruing of God, either by good words proceeding frō y^e mouth, or good works issuing from y^e hart: both which God himselfe willeth. It is most fit to acknowledge a crea­tor & an encreaser of that good & goodnes which we do daily receiue: as also to confesse our selues sinners, & God the forgi­uer. But as people are dul to do good déeds, so are they swift to commit sinne. Many euills grow by Sloth, whereof two be perillous, and Sloth hir selfe confesseth no lesse: namely, to neglect a conuerting vnto Christ, and a carelesnesse of confessing sinne. Whereby it commeth to passe, that often­times many depart this life, not confessing themselues to haue offended God, neither yet conuerting or turning vnto him: in doing whereof they hazard both bodie and soule. It is a hard thing for one to die well, that alwaies liued ill. In this Towre of Sloth, are fiftéene seuerall lodges or cabbins: in the first lieth Lukewarmnesse, in the second Lasciuious­nesse, in the third Drousinesse, in the fourth Carelesnesse of himselfe and his health: in the fift, Delaieng the time to doe good, in the sixt Rechlesnesse, in the seuenth Dastardlines, in y^e eight Vndeuoutnes, in y^e ninth Heuinesse of hart, or hatred to serue God, in y^e tenth Wearines of life, in the eleuenth Desperation, in y^e twelfth, Vnstaiednes, in y^e thirtéenth Vn­constācie, in y^e xiiii. Murmuring, & in y^e xv Vnpatience. And thus much of y^e vij. Towres built vpon y^e wal, & the dwellers in y^e same. It remaineth now to say somwhat of the stand­ing of this Pallaice: which we intend to doe in few words.

¶THE SCITVATION OR STANDING of the Pallaice of worldly Felicitie. The xi. Chapter.

THis pallaice was scituated or built in a plesant valley, vpon y^e foot of a high mountain, inuironed with hils on euery side, whereby it was not onely defended frō force of tempests, which way soeuer the windes blewe, but the very [Page 47] hils themselues, were very sightly & seruiceable. For on the one side was a goodly vineyard, wherin grew grapes of sun­drie sorts: on y^e other side it yéelded great quantitie of grain: another side were proper woods, which yéelded great store of good timber & trées, wherin bred all manner of braue birds. On another side wer warrēs & conniborowes, ful of hares & connies: in another place also was a gallāt parke, wher was no want of Deare red or falow. Beyond these hils wer good­ly forests, ful of gentlemanly game for hunting. In y^e valley wher y^e Pallaice stood, was a meruailous faire gréene med­dow, through y^e midst wherof ran a riuer of fine fresh water, vpon y^e brims wherof on both sides al alōg grew apple trées, peare trées, plum trées, Oliue trées, elder trées, Oake trées, elme trees, & such like. Fast by y^e goodly bank also grew ma­ny young hasil trées, ful of nuts at y^e time of y^e yere, & by y^e a­gaine such store of walnut trées, as passe to be spokē, besides many pōds ful of fish, & excellēt orchards of al kinds of fruit, & goodly gardēs also of swéet flowers. The riuer was not w^t out great store of water fowles, & as for y^e wood, ther bred in it hawks, herns, pelicās, phesants, cranes, wodcocks, bitters, kites, crowes, cormerants, turtles, woodquists, eagles, to bée short, al kinde of birds possible, as might be perceiued by fe­thers, which fel from thē to y^e ground, in pruning thēselues. What shuld I speak of pigin houses, & of secret banketting places fine & delicate? why it wer but folly: beside al this you must think y^t ther wer tennis courts, & other places for pa­stime, y^e wals therof wer very high, insomuch y^t it wold haue made one amazed & dizzie to looke down frō y^e top. Ther was also a meruailous mote & fearful to behold, y^e bridge wherof was not broad, & called Desperation, y^e passage ouer being a long narrow plank, so y^t if one trode neuer so litle awrie, he fel in, w^t hazard neuer to be recouered? The stables wer ful of goodly horses, as hobies, Ienets, bard horses, geldings, hac­nies, mules, camils, & colts. The kēnels ful of dogs, as gre­hoūds, otterhoūds, harehoūds, spaniels for land & water, ma­stiues for bull, beare & bore. We supt in a bāketting house, & our supper excelled al y^e fare y^t euer I saw: lady Venus kept me cōpany, & I was dulled with y^e sūptuous seruice y^t I had. [Page 48] All my delight was to behold Ladie Venus, who sate ouer against me, insomuch y^t at last Voluptuousnesse ouercame me. Supper being ended, in came stage-plaiers, daunsers, mascars, mummers, and many sports, which we vse daylye in feasting. Now when I waxed wearie, I tooke my leaue of the companie, with good night: and then was I brought to the brauest chamber in all the Pallaice, Ladie Venus and hir waighting maides tending vpon me. But euery one departed, after I was in bed, sauing onely Venus the Goddesse of Loue, with whom I laye all night.

¶THE AVTHOR DECLARETH HOVV THE wandring Knight, and such like voluptuous liuers in the world, transgresse the x. Commandements of Almightie God, vnder written. The xij. Chapter.

SO long as the Knight continued in this pe­stilent Pallaice of worldly desire, following his owne fantasie, by vaine Voluptuousnes enticed, he did no other thing but playe the foole, daunce, leape, sing, eate, drinke, hawke, hunt, fish, fowle, haunt whores, and such like, (as did the prodigall sonne) and led a dissolute life, for the space of eleuen daies. Which signifies a meruailous mysterie, and vnfortunate. For the number eleuen, by the opinion of Christian Doctors and Philosophers, is a wicked and vnluckie number, for that the number of x. signifies the x. Commaundements of God: and the number xi. which is one more, prophecieth and foretelleth the transgressing of them. Wherefore the Knight hauing remained xi. dayes in that Pallaice, greuously transgressed the wil of God, letting loose the bridle to his lewd affections, without refraining a­nie of them. If you note well the premises, and sée into the sequel, you shall find, that such as liue after the order of that Pallaice of worldly Felicitie, being giuen to followe the [Page 49] pompe and pride of the world, with the plesures and volup­tuousnesse of the same, and seeme willing to lead that life without purpose of change, nay rather, triumphing and re­ioicing therein: I say, and I say truly, that such are trans­gressours of Gods Lawes. Contrariwise, such as accompt themselues héere to be but Pilgrimes, and fixe their affecti­on on the other world, where royally raigneth Iesus Christ, reputing this lyfe an exile, & desiring to be deliuered out of it, to the ende they may enter in at the Pallaice of the hea­uenly King, shall enioy the fulnesse and happinesse thereof.

As this world yéeldes a great deale of temporall goods & transitorie honor, so doth it also make an ende of them Now those that haue vsed these gifts to y^e glorie of God, are Gods people. Contrariwise those that haue vsed them voluptuous­ly, are vessells of the Diuell, and transgressours of the laws of God, as may appeare by the x. Commaundements, which I haue set downe for that purpose. Wherein all worldlings may perceiue, that by liuing voluptuously, they grieuously transgresse Gods lawes, to their owne destruction. And as the x. Commandements were written in two tables: euen so are they deuided into two parts. The first comprehendes thrée, concerning the loue of GOD. The seconde se­uen touching the loue of our neighbour. And therefore who so leades his life worldling like, and fixeth his felicitie in Voluptuousnesse, is doubtlesse a vessell of the Diuell: and loueth not God, nor his neighbour, because he transgresseth the lawe of God, which followeth in due and conuenient order.

I Am the Lord thy God, thou shalt haue none other Gods but me.

2 Thou shalt not make to thy selfe any grauen Image, nor the likenesse of any thing that is in heauen aboue, or in the earth beneath, nor in the water vnder the earth. Thou shalt not bow downe to them, nor worship them, for I the Lord thy God am a iealous God, & visite the sins of the fa­ther vpon the children, vnto the third and fourth generation [Page 50] of them that hate me, and shew mercie vnto thousands in them that loue me and kéepe my commaundements.

3 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vaine: for the Lord will not holde him guiltlesse, that ta­keth his name in vaine.

4 Remember that thou kéepe holy the Sabboth daye, vi. daies shalt thou labour and doe all that thou hast to doe: but the vij. day is the Saboth of the Lord thy God, in it thou shalt doe no manner of work, thou & thy sonne & thy daugh­ter, thy man seruant thy maide seruant, thy cattell, and the stranger that is within thy gates: for in six daies, the Lord made heauen and earth, the Sea and all that therein is, and rested the vii. day, wherefore the Lord blessed y^e vii. daye, & hallowed it.

5 Honour thy father & thy mother, that thy daies may be long in the land, which the Lord thy God giueth thée.

6 Thou shalt doe no murder.

7 Thou shalt not commit adulterie.

8 Thou shalt not steale.

9 Thou shalt not beare false witnesse against thy neighbour.

10 Thou shalt not couet thy neighbors house, thou shalt not couet thy neighbours wife, nor his seruant, nor his maide, nor his Oxe, nor his Asse, nor any thing that is his.

This is the law of God, by which you may perceiue, that such as liue in the Pallaice of worldly Uoluptuousnesse, are transgressors of the same Contrariwise, such as seeke for heauenly Felicitie ▪ are Gods beloued, and they shall haue the possession thereof. Now harken what happened vnto the Knight, hauing liued xi. daies in the Pallaice of vaine & worldly felicitie.

¶THE KNIGHT VVENT FORTH TO RECRE­ate himselfe, and viewed the warrens and forests, which were about the Pallaice of worldly felicitie: Anone, he saw it sinke sodainly into the earth, and perceiued himselfe fast in the mire, vp to the saddle skirts. The xiij. Chapter.

[Page 51] AFter I had soiourned xi. daies in the Pal­laice, transgressing Gods commandements, & leading a beastly life: I desired to ride into the forests therabouts, not intending to giue ouer voluptuous life, but for my plea­sure, because I was weary of making good chéere. For although worldlings delight to eate, drinke, daunce, leape, sing, ride, run, and such like: yet notwithstan­ding they cannot continue in this trade of life, without en­termingling it with some recreation. Wherfore they often leaue by that constraint, their pastimes, though they intend to returne therto againe. They do not vtterly abandon thē, but breake off for a season, to procure them better appetite. I then being weary was willing to sée the warrens & other pleasures, which when my gouernesse Folly vnderstood, she told the tale to Lady Voluptuousnesse, and the consented to hunt or hawke with me, whereof I was right glad. Thē I apparailed my selfe in hunters guise, taking in stéede of my helmet, a hat ful of fethers, for mine armour, a horne: & I lept vpon Temeritie my horse. Voluptuousnes had a hob­bie, Folly a Ienet, & the other Ladies euery one of them a Palfray. There came the huntsmen with greahounds & ma­stiues, whooping hallowing & galloping altogether, some one way▪ some another. The dogs wer at a beck, vp starts y^e hare the crie was heuenly to heare. But in the midst of al our pa­stime, I chaunced to breath my horse, & turning towards the Pallaice of worldly felicitie, sodainly I saw it sinke into the earth, & euery body therein. But what lamentable outcries they made, you y^t haue reson, are to iudge. Then did ther rise amongst vs a whirlwinde with an earthquake, which set vs al asūder, insomuch y^t I & my horse, sunk in mire vp to y^e mid­dle: only remained with me al this while, my mistres Folly. This earthquake yelded such an aire of brimstone, y^t the like hath not ben felt. Thē I perceiued y^t I was far frō y^e plesant pallaice, gardens, orchards, & vineyards of Voluptuousnes, but rather in a beastly bog sticking fast: & nothing neere me, but serpents, snakes, adders, toads, and venemous wormes. [Page 52] Such was my perplexitie in this case, that I fel in dispaire, being not able to speake one word, I was so sore amased.

But when I came againe to my senses, reuiued from death to life, and found my selfe in that beastly bog, I tare my haire, I rent my clothes, I wept, I waild, I howld, I cride, I wrong my handes, I stroke my breast, I scratcht my face, I bit mine armes, and spake thus. O wretch, O Asse, O miserable soule, O caitiue, O fondlyng. Where is now thy Pallaice of worldly felicitie? Where are now thy braue chambers hanged with cloath of Arisse? Where are now thy gallant Gardens, thy Orchardes, thy Meddowes, thy Corne-fields, thy Cofers of coine, thy Ladies of Loue, thy Hawkes, thy Hounds, thy Horses, thy Oxen, thy seruaunts, thy softe beddes, thy good cheere, thy wines, thy Musicke, thy pleasures, and all the things which thou hast abused? Alas wicked wretch, how hast thou bene deceiued? Thou though­test thou hadst bene in the Pallaice of true Felicitie, and for Felicitie thou findest Vanitie. Thou hast bene wickedly in­chaunted, thus to finde euill in stéede of good. Héere withall I turned my selfe toward Folly, and railed at hir, saieng: O cursed, cruell, and deceiptfull beast, O monstrous moc­ker of mankinde: O filthie bawde: O venemous Uiper: Is this the good hap I should haue? Is this the place of fe­licitie whether thou shouldest bring me?

Cursed be the daye that euer I sawe thée, Cursed be the daye that euer I heard thee, Cursed be the daye that euer I beleeued thée, Cursed be the daye that euer I followed thee. Is it euen so, that thus thou gouernest, euen beastly and damnably? Is it euen so, that thus thou leadest people, euen to perdition? Where is the felicitie thou promisedst me? Where is the good hap I should haue by thee? It is chaun­ced to me euen as I doubted by y^e way, when thou discour­sedst thy filthie feates, beginnings and procéedings: howbe­it, thine inchantments and thy flatterie caused me to kéepe thée companie, when full faine God wot, I would haue ben rid of thée. But such was mine arrogant ignorance, & igno­raunt arrogancie, that I followed thy daungerous counsell.

[Page 53]When I had thus scowlded & tooke on, the lewde lossell lowdly laught me to scorne. Whereat béeing in rage, I offe­red to draw my sword, but it would not be: then I spurred my horse, but he wold not lift vp his legges. Notwithstan­ding all this, I carried the minde still I might get out: not hauing helpe, euen by my owne strength and industrie. But be you sure of this, that after a man is once sunke in sin, & drowned in fleshly voluptuousnesse, he shall sticke fast & not be able to recouer himselfe, vnlesse he haue the help of Gods grace, which he of his goodnesse giue vs all, Amen.

¶THE AVTHOVR CRYETH OVT BITTERLY against worldlings and their felicitie. The xiiij. Chapter.

O Wicked worldling, O traitour, O lyar, O dampnable deceiuer, armed with filthie frawd, and cursed craftinesse, hauing a face lyke a man, but a taile lyke a Dragon, who with thy pestilent prating, promisest that, which thou neither wilt nor canst performe: to wit, peace, rest, assuraunce, blessing, and felicitie. Where­as contrariwise, thou shewest thy selfe, vaine, cruel, vnquiet, vncerteine, cursed, and desperate. And because thou wouldest bestowe thy poisons and not be perceiued, thou couerest it ouer with a lyttle honnie of delight. O foolish worldlings, and louers of Voluptuousnesse, why suffer you your selues to be so fowlye abused? Why flye you not from her, since you knowe she is dampnable? Why doe you beléeue a lyar? Why doe you follow a deceiuer? Why become you ac­quainted with such a murtherer? Why doe you not purge your vnderstandings of erronious opinions? Why consider you not what the world is, with a perfect iudgement? If you did all this, you should finde your selues out of the way. For worldly goods, voluptuousnesse, and pleasure, are mingled rather with sowre things, then with swéete.

[Page 54]In following Voluptuousnesse, you are not happy, but vnhappy:Iohn. 1. not wise, but flat fooles. Saint Iohn saith. All that is in the world is cōcupiscence of the flesh, cōcupiscence of the eyes, & concupiscence of pride. The world and all her concupiscences shal passe: but he that doth the will of the Lord shall continue eternally. Harken you foolish world­lings, harken you vessells of Voluptuousnesse. This teach­eth you assuredly wherein consisteth all your Felicitie, and how it is damnable. Consider S. Iohns wordes, That the world shal passe, & the concupiscēce of the same. What me­neth he by y^e world, nothing else but as S. Austen saith, All worldlings & louers of Voluptuousnes, which prefer visible things before inuisible, y^e flesh before the spirit, Satan before Iesus Christ▪ euen as commonly we cal a house good or bad, according to the vsage of thē y^t dwel in it. The eye, the flesh, & y^e pompe of lyfe, is the worldlings felicitie, y^t is their heauen. If all goodnes come of God (as most true it is) & that concu­piscence of the eie, of the flesh, & the pride or pomp of lyfe cō ­meth of the diuell, are not they deceiued y^t thinks it good, or fixe their affection to follow it? I could saie, ther is a gnaw­ing conscience to torment the worldlings. I could say y^t the voluptuous man hath the wrath of God hanging ouer his head. I could saie eternall death is reserued for his reward. After excessiue eating & drinking comes surfets, agues, head­ach, losse of wit, dropsies, losse of appetite, griping in y^e guts, palsies, weakening of y^e body, infamy, & shame. Now to Ve­nory, wherin y^e voluptuous man taketh such plesure, as in no­thing more. First, what pains, what sorows, what tormēts & anguish, hath the lewd louer, before he can cōpasse his de­sire? Their desire cannot be atchieued without losse. For we sée that lecherie and gluttonie bréedeth pouertie, which is a very heauy burthen. But I imagine it costeth nothing, as oftentimes it chaunceth, mouing such as be rich: yet not­withstanding they féele euen what follows, namely, losse of body & soule. Touching the sin of lecherie, a man therein is like vnto a beast. For in his blinde delight he is depriued of reason, & therfore y^e deede declareth it selfe to bée damnable. [Page 55] This sin bringeth her reward in this world, as dropsies, palsies, leprosies, gowtes, burnings, botches, & French poxe, which is y^e very worst, the commonnest, y^e loathsomest, & the most infectious disease of al: besids y^t, banishmēt frō al honest company, decay of strength, & losse of good name & fame. Doe you count him a happy man which spends his daies in drō ­kennesse & lechery, hauing heere so many hels. Abstinence or forbearance doth not warne thē to take héed therof, though it be their onely medicine. Now touching concupiscence of y^e eyes, wherby couetousnesse & desire of riches is vnderstood: First, though gold & siluer be but carth, what vexation hath the couetous man to atchiue it? He saileth ouer tempestuous seas, he climbeth ouer monstrous moūtains, he diggeth déepe into y^e bowels of the earth, he suffereth hunger, thirst, colde, heat, & a thousand mischiefs. One is drowned, another kild, the third robbed, & he y^t hath obteined his purpose liueth in feare to lose it: the couetous man suspects euery body. It is not cofers ful of coine, y^t can make men happy. Our Sauiour tearms it trash & thornes, because it pricks y^e hart, & corrup­teth both body & soule. S. Paul saith, He that wisheth wealth in the world, falleth into temptation. Is not Iudas an exam­ple, who in a case of couetousnesse hanged himselfe. Now to concupiscence of pride. He y^t hath honour, authoritie, might, estimation, & dignitie in the world, thinketh he is happy: but such are loden w^t vnhappinesse. For what paines, labour & vexation endures y^e ambitious man, before he can come to dignitie, honour, & authoritie? And when he hath it with all these vexations, he is not sure how long he shal enioy it. We see oftentimes Fortune turnes hir whéele, & that the ambiti­ous ende their liues with infamye. Take an example of Priamus king of Troy, who flourished in friendes & riches, honour and might, kinred and children: did not he and his ofspring, y^e greatest part of them, die most miserably: as for y^e rest, they became seruitudes, & wer at length kild in Troy.

Croesus king of the Lydians, as rich & mightie as he was, after he had reigned .xv. years, he was vanquished by king Cirus, lost his realme, was carried away captiue, & led all y^e rest of his life like a slaue.

[Page 56] Dionysius the cowardly king of Sicil, was hunted out of his realme, and became so poore, that hée kept a Schoole in Corinthe, & by teaching little children, he got his liuing, ve­rie poorely God wot, and beggerly.

Mithridates king of Pontus, a rich and mightie Prince, he subdued .xxii. Nations, wherein (some saye) all langua­ges were spoken, yet he for all that, after he had wearied the world with warres, was forsaken of his owne people, pur­sued by his owne sonne, & ouercome by subtiltie: insomuch that he was glad to desire a French man to kill him, who did so, and that was his end

Valerianus the great Emperour of Rome, euen he that persecuted the Christians, and did much mischiefe, was ta­ken by his enimie the king of Persia, who against the lawe of armes, made him lye downe whiles he troad on his back to leape on his horse.

Baiasethes, the fourth king of the Turkes, was vanqui­shed by Tamerlanes, a Tartarian, and king of Scithia, who kept him in a cage like a beast, and with a golden chaine led him like a Spaniell throughout all the armie: yea, he was glad to féede vnder Tamerlanes table like a dogge. And ther­fore let this be a conclusion, that honour, authoritie & digni­tie, is no heritage.

Moreouer, what labours, trauailes, vexations, & perills do Princes passe through, euen at this present, to mainteine themselues in their estates? What warres and slaughters haue bene committed, partly to get and partly to kéepe rule and regiment? whereby you may perceiue, that worldly fe­licitie is ful of ficklenes. Ambitious worldlings cannot play with their pleasures, if they haue not first passed some of these vexations. In youth men runne their race without regard of conscience, but when age comes on, & nothing left for lust, whē white haires, a walking staffe or crutch, a paire of spectacles, Cotton put in the eares: when none of these things can helpe him, then must he endeauour the gnawing of conscience, which Voluptuousnesse kept hidden, a long time. Whatsoeuer is pleasant to youth, the same is vnplea­sant [Page 57] to age. And what comfort may an olde man conceiue, when he can thinke vppon no time of his youth, that was well spent and vertuously bestowed?

What discomfort is it, when cōscience accuses the old man of his young yeares wickedly wasted? But as the elect line in hope, so doe the reprobate in dispaire. He that followeth Voluptuousnesse is Gods enimie. For Saint Iames saith, He that loues the world hateth God. Iames. 4 You may well thinke that sin is hated of God, when he suffered his onelye sonne to dye vppon the Altar of the crosse, for this ende, that sinne should not bée vnpunished. And why was it, but because the sinnes of Adam encreased, as generations multiplyed. The euill rich man that liued at his lust, was tormented in hell, with fire and thirst, in whome the wordes of our Sauiour Christ are verified, saieng. Wo vnto you that now laugh, for you shall lament and weepe. Luke. 6. Goe you foolish worldlings▪ therfore, & you vaine voluptuous persons, vaunt your selues happye in following your fleshlye appetites. When for such pleasures you shall suffer tormentes, not in this world, but in the worlde to come, you will sing a new note.

But nowe to our knight whome wée left in the mire, and déepe ditch of sinne. I referre you to the Psalmes of Dauid, and chiefely to the .36.68.72.143. and there you shall finde the truth, that worldlye Felicitie is no other thing, then vanitie, dreames, and méere abuses: and also that worldlinges are accursed and vnhappye. Wherefore I be­séech you in the name of our Lorde and Sauiour Iesus Christ, to vse the goods of the world, as Pilgrimes vse their lodgings, and such fare as they finde in theyr voyage: that is, not to set your hart vpon them, nor so to loue them, y^t no­thing be left for the Lord. For as the knight sawe the Pal­laice of worldly felicitie sinke sodeinly, with all her people, & pomp: euen so shall, it happen vnto all voluptuous world­lings, at the dreadful day of iudgement, vnlesse they returne from their wicked wai [...]s, for sake sinne, imbrace a new life, and serue the Lord in holinesse and righteousnesse.

[Page 58]Wherefore let vs bridle our affections, refraine our owne peasures, repent with true sorrow of heart, attend, waite, & hope for the mercy of God, by the intercession of our Lord & Sauiour Iesus Christ, that he may make vs happy posses­sors of true and euerlasting felicitie, to whom be all honour and glory, world without end.

GODS GRACE DRAVVETH THE KNIGHT out of the filth of sinne wherein he stucke fast. The first Chapter.

I Haue declared in y^e first part of my voiage, how being gouerned by Folly, in contēning vertue & following Voluptuousnes, I ente­red into y^e pallaice of false felicitie, ther re­sting my selfe for a certein season, & trāgres­sing all the commandements of God, in lea­ding a dissolute & worldly life, thinking that by liuing so I might be happy, wheras indéed I was vnhappy. And why? because y^t in stéed of felicity I foūd vanity. For as I thought to recreate my self in hunting, I sawe y^e pallaice of Volup­tuousnesse sink & come to vtter confusion, & my self also plū ­ged into y^e pit of sin, euen vp to y^e saddle. It is an easie matter for a man of himselfe to fal into hell, but it is impossible for him to get out againe, vnles by y^e help of Gods grace. I terme him to be in hel, who liues in continuall wickednes, cōmit­ting sin, with delight. For if he die in y^e estate, hel is his re­ward, but in his life if he repēt, ther is hope of saluation. For by Gods grace he may be cōforted & deliuered. Therfore man of himself falleth into perdition, but w^tout Gods grace he cā ­not rise vp againe. God therfore séeing his creature giuen to all vanitie, lead with ambitiō of worldly honor, & not ceasing his sinful life, oftētimes sends aduersitie, diseases, dishonors, & confusion in y^e world, to make him hūble, & to open y^e eies of reson, which Voluptuousnes had shut vp, wherby he may [Page 59] come to y^e knowledge of his sins, & confesse y^e same to God. All this is figured in y^e Gospel, wher our Lord Iesus raised y^e widows child, which was carried out of y^e citie of Naim, to be buried: he cōmanded y^e bearers to stay, & hauing touched the Cofin of y^e corps, with a loud voice he said, Young man arise, & straight way the dead body rose vp & spake: Which done, y^e Lord deliuered him to his sorowfull mother. This mourning mother mystically represents y^e Church, lamen­ting for hir dead children, to wit, wicked worldlings & volup­tuous christians, which are worse thē dead corses. The wi­dows child representeth soules dead in sin. The Cofin repre­senteth y^e naturall body, wherein lieth the sinfull soule. The foure bearers which carrie the dead soule to hell, represent hope of long life, custome of sinning, delaieng of repentāce, & contempt of Gods word. Neuertheles, when our Lord will raise to life this dead soule, he commandeth y^e bearers to stay, afterwards toucheth y^e body, sending vpō sinners aduersity, diseases, & misfortunes. But all y^t suffice not, vnlesse y^e Lord say vnto y^e soule, Soule I say vnto thee, Arise. Do not we sée oftentimes, people visited with afflictions, murmure against God, cursing him y^t hath afflicted them? These by impatiēcie being vnable to arise of themselues, is it not necessary, that God say to the soule, Arise, there is no difference betwéene his saieng & doing. For what he saith, he doth. And therfore if the Lord say once, Arise to the soule, she riseth, & then hée diliuereth her to her mother the Church, which was sorow­full for her sinnes. In like manner God to raise me from my sinnes, sendeth me aduersitie, to y^e end I should acknow­ledge mine iniquitie, & with humility turne vnto him, which I cannot do without his heauenly grace, much lesse atchiue true felicitie and blessednesse, vnlesse he helpe. Then was I warned by the scourges of God, that liuing worldling lyke, and following Voluptuousnesse I was not happie, but vn­happy, being full of filthinesse and infection, tumbling in the mire of all iniquitie, from the which I could not withdrawe my selfe, for that the eies of reason were closed vp by Vo­luptuousnesse, which afterwards wer opened by Gods grace. [Page 60] To sée the pitious estate wherin I was, & the vnderstanding which Folly had darkned, made me the wofullest wretch in the world: neuerthelesse, when I was whipped w^t aduersi­tie, I perceiued my knowledge somewhat cléered and ligh­tened, so y^t I found in conscience that I had not accustomed my selfe greatly to honest things. And when I sawe the se­quele, that there was no retiring of my selfe without Gods grace, I lifted my eyes to heauen, and wringing my handes all ashamed & confounded, I lamented with a loude voice & humbling my selfe before the face of my God, whom I had grieuously offended, I made my mone, saieng.

O Lord God Father and maker of all things, I am not worthy to lift vp mine eyes towards thee, nor to aske par­don for the infinit sinnes, wherein I confesse my selfe guil­tie. Neuerthelesse O God of all goodnesse & father of mer­cie, I beseech thee not to punish me in thy great rage, nor to condemne me among the reprobate: I acknowledge my euil, & craue pardon for my misdeeds, my former life displea­seth me greatly, & my heart quaketh for feare of thy iudg­mēts. O God forsake not thy creature which is a sinner, but aide & assist me with thy heuēly grace, wherof if I may tast the vertue, I shall need none other succour: O graunt this for the glory of thy great name, and in thy name, for the loue of thy dere son Iesus Christ, who with thee & the ho­ly Ghost be all honour & power for euer and euer, Amen.

As I was thus praieng with a willing minde, shedding teares, striking my brest, conceiuing griefe & sorow for my sins, sodeinly I sawe a Lady descending frō heauen downe, setting her self before me fast by the bog, wher I stuck fast. This lady was of a meruailous maiestie, & wonderful cur­teous: she appeared to me in a garment of white Satten, a cloke of blew damaske, imbrodered with gold & pearls. Her face shined like the Sun, so y^t with much a do I did behold hir, I was much amazed at such a sodein vision, & knew not at the first what she was, yet I tooke hart a grace, supposing some helpe sent me from heauen, to draw me out of the bog wherein I lay. In the end with all reuerence I made my [Page 61] petition vnto her, saieng: O good & gracious Lady, whatsoe­uer thou be, I most humbly beséech thée if thou canst, that it would please thée to help me out of this beastly bog of filthy infection. For nothing is néere me but venemous serpents & noisome vermine. In the name of God therfore I craue thy help. To y^e which my request she answered: O foole & abused beast, thou séest now what reward Voluptuousnes yéeldeth thée for following hir. If thou hadst beléeued my daughter, thou hadst not bene in this miserie.

Then I asked hir who was that daughter of hirs, she answered saieng, the swéete Gentlewoman that admonished thée a xi. daies past, to leaue Voluptuousnes, & to follow hir: whom because thou beléeuedst not, but neglectedst hir coun­sell, thou lyest in this vnhappinesse. By this speach of hirs, I knew she was Gods grace, and the mother of Vertue. Then fell I on my knées, & weeping, thus I said: O deare Lady my cursed counseller Folly drew me from thy daugh­ter, and I most vnhappy wretch beléeued hir: which deede of mine grieues me greatly, and now I crie thée mercie, most humbly desiring thée of thy clemencie, to deliuer me out of this filthie infectiō, & I promise & vow vnto thee (henceforth) to follow thée. For although I deserue damnation for my misdéeds, yet thou being by nature merciful, wilt spare me. Gods grace hearing this my lamentation, of hir benignitie stretched foorth a golden rod, and commaunded me to laye my handes vpon it: which when I did, I rise from my sad­dle, and so was set out of the bog, where I lefte Temeritie my horse, and Folly my gouernesse, to fish for frogs. Thus you sée that Gods grace draweth vs from sinne, and iustifies vs fréely, without any merit of ours: howbeit not without an inward heart-griefe and sorrow for sinne, which is a spe­ciall gifte of Gods grace, and no worke of mans corrupt nature.

¶GODS GRACE SHEVVEH HELL VNTO THE Knight, with all the voluptuous companie, that he sawe in thee. Pallaice of Worldly Felicitie. [Page 62] The second Chapter.

WHen I was out of the bog, humbly on my knées I gaue thankes to Gods grace, for hir goodnesse, being assured, that he to whom God doth good, is not worthy thereof, if he be not thankfull. Then Gods grace, marched before me, saieng that I should follow hir, y^t which I did. For doubtlesse our frée will guideth not Gods grace, but Gods grace guideth our frée will. Then I followed hir all to be dagled, vntill we came where I hadde séene the Pallaice of worldly felicitie in greatest glory, turned into a déepe dungeon of darkenesse, boyling with consuming fire, from whence came a vilde vapor and stinking smoake of burning brimstone, ouer the which we must passe by a litle long planke, wherat I was so afeard, that the haires of my head st [...] an ende. Then with sorrowfull sighes I besée­ched Gods grace to tel me, what was y^e sight which we saw. (quod she) This is y^e place of thy voluptuous pallaice, with all thy alyes, amongst whom thou wast maintained. Marke wel, if I had not bene thy helpe, & shewed thée mercie, thou hadst bene plagued with them. Thinke with thy selfe, if the place be pleasant or no. Thou séest how the Diuel handleth those that be héere with torments. This is the great King Lucifer, whome thou supposedst to haue séene, accompanied with so many Nobles and Péeres in the pallaice of counter­faite felicitie. These be they that frye in the furnaice, héere is the reward of such as serue him.

Then we saw a great bed of yron, red hot, wherein lay a naked woman, whom a great Dragon imbraced, plaieng with his taile betwéene hir legs, with two vgly Serpents winding about hir thighs, and eating hir priuie members. This miserable woman lamenting, cried alowd, with terri­ble noise. This (quod Gods grace) is the braue bed where­in thou laist, and this woman is the Goddesse of loue, which kept thée company. Wouldest thou be gladde now to serue [Page 63] hir? To the which I said, no. Thou séest quod she, this is the end of all voluptuous liuers & wicked worldlings. Aske them now where their goods be, their pleasures, & their vo­luptuousnes? Alas Lady (quod I) for feare I dare not. Then with a lowd voice she began, perticularly asking the questi­on, and saieng: O cursed outcasts of God, & wretched world­lings, wher are now your faire chambers hanged with silke tapestrie, your softe beds, your great riches, your costly cub­bards of plate, your pearles and precious stones, your mo­nie, your goodly gardens, your dogs of all sorts, your birdes, your horses, your braue apparell, your delicate wines, your change of meates, your sweete waters, your pages and ser­uaunts: your Cookes and Butlers, your Ladies of the lake, and such like? O vnhappie-people, y^e chance is wel changed. In stéed of your gluttonie you suffer hunger, in stéed of your dronkennesse you suffer thirst, for your sweet swellings, you suffer sower sauours, in stéede of your lecherous louers, you are accompanied with tormenting diuels, & for your former pastimes, you endure terrible punishmēts. Whē Gods grace had thus spoken, that cursed company cried alowde: Woe be to the hower that euer we were borne: the Iustice of God, O the heauie Iustice of God, hath deseruedlye puni­shed vs.

This being past, Gods grace tolde me, that we must ouer that waye, notwithstanding the planke was narrowe and long. Then I, though I were afeard, followed hir, she going before me for my safetie. But I had not gone three steps, but I sawe Cerberus the Dog of hell with his three heads, yelping & gaping to deuoure me: at which sight all amased, my feete slipt, & straight he had me by the héeles to teare me. Then I cried to Gods grace for help, who looking back, espi­ed me in danger: and hearing me crye, Succour, succour, she tooke me vp, & in a moment deliuered me out of y^t dungeon. Then I remēbred what Dauid said: Si dicebā, Motus est pes meus, misericordia tua Domine adiuuabit me: When I said, My feet slipped, thy mercie O Lord did help me vp. Now whē Gods grace caried me in hir arms, I fered my filthines [Page 64] would hurt hir rich aray: but I found it contrarie. For hir precious apparaile was nothing spotted, and mine béeing fowle, became faire, which made me much to meruaile. Then said Gods grace, My son like as the Sun shineth into the Diars dye-fat, and yet retourneth forth vnspotted: euen so doe I, without blotting my selfe, enter into thy sin­full soule, and in a moment doe make it cleane.

Then ouer the monstrous mountaines & ragged Rocks away we walked, till we came to a crosse way, wher Ver­tue wished me to follow hir, whose saiengs when I called to minde, it made me wéepe bitterly for my sinnes and follies past. But when Gods grace perceiued me to be weary, & anoyed with the smells that I found in the loathsome lake, for pitie she tooke me in hir armes, & at the last she shewed me the schoole of Repentance,, whether I must go, before I could enter into true Felicitie.

¶THE KNIGHT DECLARETH HOVV HE EN­tred into the Schoole of Repentaunce, and of his enterteinment there. The third Chapter.

WHen we approched to the Schoole of Repen­tance, which was built vpon a high Hill in­uironed with a Moate named Hun [...]: Gods grace called, and out came Ladie Re­pentance in plaine apparell, hauing next hir naked skinne a smocke of haire cloath, & vp­pon the same a gowne of sackcloth, girded together with a great leather girdle, and a kercher of course canuasse vppon hir head. With hir also came two waiting maides, named Sorow for sinne, and Confession of sinne, both apparailed like their Lady: the first séemed very sorrowfull and sadde, and the second was bashfull and shamefast, and hung down hir head. Then Gods grace spake to Repentaunce, and pre­senting me vnto hir, sayde: Héere is a Knight which I [Page 65] haue brought to thy Schoole, that he might forget the euill which he hath learned abroade, and to be instructed in the good, which he neuer yet knew. And being receiued into the schoole of Repentance, I learned to liue wel, and forgot all the euill which I was taught in times past. And whereas before I learned to leape, daunce, eate, drinke, playe, haunt whores, and to do all villanie and mischiefe, now I learned a new lesson, namely: to knéele, to mourne, to fast, to pray, and to liue well: flat contrary to all that I vsed in the Pal­laice of worldly felicitie. Then Repentance said to Gods grace, that my hatte full of feathers, and all things els about me, must be put off, and cast away. Then at the com­maundement of Gods grace, Repentance began to take off these toyes, and first she hurled my hat of hautinesse into the dungeon, then off went my girdle of intemperance, where­vnto was tyed my sword of rebellion, which being broken in peeces, with my coate of vaineglory, my hosen of lewde delight, and my dublet of ill desires, all were throwne into the lake, and there remained onely with me my shirt of la­sciuiousnesse, the which also she wold haue pluckt ouer mine eares: but I entreated hir earnestly not to leaue me naked. So I was for a while excused, but not altogether: for sayd Repentance, except thou cast of all the apparell of the olde man, thou canst not come to my Schoole. Then Repentance sayd vnto me: Sonne, thou must enter in at this straight hole, whereout I came. But when I complained and said, that it was vnpossible, because my head would not in, shée sayd there was no other waye nor entrance into hir schoole. Then I called to minde what our Lord said in the Gospell of Mathew, The waye is straight, which leadeth to euerla­sting life, and very fewe walke that waye. Mat. 7.

Now as I stoode wondering at the narrow hole, I saw an olde Serpent enter in, who for lacke of roome, lefte his skinne behinde him, and presently returned all renued, and young. Whereat as I meruailed, Gods grace tolde me, sai­eng, Thus thou must doe: for in entring the Schoole of Repentaunce, thou must leaue thy olde skin behinde thée, [Page 66] and afterwards thou shalt returne a new man. This is it which y^e Apostle speaketh of,Eph. 4. saieng: Put off the old man ac­cording to the first cōuersatiō, corrupted with ill thoughts, and put on the new man, which is to be created according to God, in iustice and holinesse of truth. The olde man is the affection of sinne, and the former euill life, which is lefte behinde in the schoole of Repentaunce, and the new man is the good life, which is newly begun in holines & truth. As Gods grace was thus teaching me, I saw an olde Eagle, heauie eied & thicke fethered, fluttring aloft. This Eagle falling downe, diued thrée times into a faire fountaine ther­abouts, & presently returned young & lustie, which miracle made me maruell more then y^t of the Serpent. Then said Gods grace, Like as this Eagle is returned from the foun­taine of water, young and lustie: euen so shalt thou after thou art come to Christ with sorrow for thy sinne, and con­fession of the same, which if thou doe, thou shalt receiue thy first innocencie, which I gaue thée in thy Baptisme.

Then Gods grace entered into the Schoole of Repen­taunce before me, saieng: I will drawe thée in, for it is none but I that sheweth sinners the way to Repentaunce. With y^t she pluckt me in, & foorthwith I became an enimie to sin. Now therfore let no man glorifie himselfe, séeing it is Gods grace that goeth before mans will, & that by it man is made good. Then I entering in after, & being a little way in, the passage waxed wider, Gods grace plucking me in by the head, & Repentaunce thrusting at my féete. So then in passing in at the narrow place, I left lasciuiousnes my shirt behinde me, torne in péeces, which she hurled into the dun­geon, and all my body was scratched. This doth Repen­taunce prepare hir scholler, for if any by mouth doth confesse his former sinnes, not hauing inward sorrow & hart-griefe for offending God, and good intent and full purpose to a­mend his life, he is greatly abused. For thinking to haue Gods blessing, he shall be sure of curssing.

But to my purpose, Repentaunce put on my naked bo­die, such apparell as she hir selfe did weare, which when I [Page 67] saw, I thought vpon the Apostles, not that I thought my selfe as good as they, but hoping to come (by Gods grace) to the place where they are, I was well content to doe as they did.

¶ HOVV TRVE REPENTAVNCE BE­gins in vs, and how the Knights consci­ence accused him: with the paines he had deserued. The fourth Chapter.

IT is true that Repentaunce (as it ought) cannot be done without speciall grace from GOD. For the heart of sinfull men can­not chaunge their disordinate life, nor turne from their offences, nor prepare themselues to GOD, without the singular operati­on of Gods grace.

The Doctors dispute dayly, whether true Repentaunce taketh hir beginning at loue or at feare.Repen­tance cō ­meth by loue and feare. This question cannot be decided in fewe wordes: but to be short, I saye it may beginne at both. For true Repentaunce being a worke of God, he may beginne it as he lyst. But when it comes from loue, it is not ordinarie or common, but mer­uailous. Looke vpon the conuersion of Saint Paule, of S. Mathew, and the Theefe.

But ordinarily [...]o GOD beginnes Repentaunce in vs by feare, as in the third Booke of the Kings,Act. 9. Luc. 23. 3. King. 19 when he commaunded Helias to come out of his caue to remaine in the Mount before the Lord, and a mightie strong winde passed by, that rent the high hills and ragged Rockes be­fore the Lord, but the Lord was not in the winde. After that came an Earthquake, but the Lord was not in the Earthquake.

[Page 68]After that came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. Af­ter that came a softe sounde, wherein the Lord was.

In such sort God sendes to sinners, a winde of terrour, to breake the mightie Mountaine of pride, & the heart more harde then the rocke. After that comes the troubling of the soule, after that comes the conscience, grudging the hart of the sinner, and accusing him of his euill life: but yet the Lord is not there with his quickening Grace. Neuerthelesse these be forerunners to prepare the way of the Lord. For when the peruerse will of man is mortified by seruile feare, and led almost to hell, after comes the swéete sound of Gods grace, which reuiueth the soule, saieng: Lazarus come forth. This is the voice that giueth consolation, at the hearing whereof we may be bold to depart in peace, with assurance of remission of our sinnes. But it séemes that Repentance began first (in the Knight) at loue, and that miraculously: for he being in the filth of his sinne, sodainly by Gods proui­dence confessed his folly, and loathing his lewde lyfe, he re­quired helpe and succour of Gods grace, who presently assi­sted him and brought him out of the sinke of sinne. But this manner of conuersion is not ordinarily vsed.

There are indéede certeine forerunners to the iustifieng of sinners, which prepare the way to Gods reuiuing or quic­kening grace, and offereth vnto God a renewed spirit, and a pure and vpright heart: which manner of conuersion, godly people onely doe vse. And héereof meaneth the Knight to speake, purposing also to shew how it digresseth from Gods grace. When Repentaunce had thus apparailed me, with haire & sackcloth, I was set vpon a stoole, & then Gods grace appeared vnto me, with two women, & one man which was a preacher. Now one of the women held in hir right hand a sharp pricking yron rod, called the gnawing of y^e conscience) and in hir left hande she had a red booke, whereat I was af­fraid. For as she beheld me, my thought she threatened me. The other woman was curteous milde and gentle, holding in hir right hand a booke of golde, couered with pearles, and she was called Remembrance.

[Page 69] Gods grace placed Conscience on my left hand, and Remembraunce on my right hand, the Preacher, Repen­taunce, and her Damselles about me, and then comman­ded Conscience to open the red booke, which when I percei­ued and sawe the wordes written with bloud, declaring all my offences, with tormentes vnto them belonging, for my following of Folly, I was amazed and became speachlesse. Then Conscience with hir yron rod toucht me, prickt mee, yea, pearced my heart, and cried aloud vnto me, saieng: Be­hold thou wretch, view this booke, & thou shalt sée how thou hast liued, euen against God, and contrarie to right and rea­son. Thou hast bene a proud, arrogant, ambitious, spitefull at others prosperitie, a prolonger of time, wrathfull, a back­biter, iniurious, traiterous, hatefull, couetous of gold, more then of God, gluttonous, wanton, shamelesse, a stewes haun­ter, giuen to all vices, & hast transgressed al the commande­ments of God, leading a loathsome life, denieng God, swea­ring and blaspheming his name, an hainous offender, a false witnesse bearer, a lyar, a desirer of other mens goods, diso­bedient to parents, cursing them and wishing their death. Furthermore, thou hast had neither faith nor hope in God, but rather in the force, riches, honour, and friendship of thy kinred, with their authoritie. I cannot recken vp the rest of thy sinnes, for they are vncountable. Uerie little care hast thou had of Christs merites, or of thy own soules helth, but alwaies yéelding to Voluptuousnesse, filthines, & iniquitie.

When Conscience had thus accused me, sorrow for sin fel bitterly a wéeping, and oftentimes stroke her brest. Then Conscience shewed me what torments I had deserued, for following voluptuous affections, and for louing them better then God. Thou oughtest sayd she, to burne in hell fire that neuer quencheth, & to be nipped with tormēts both of body and soule, for euer more. Thy laughinges shall be turned to wéeping, thy ioye to sorrowe, thy songs to cryes, yea, what paines can be named, but thou art like perpetually to suffer thē, without hope of redemptiō? For this is the due reward of worldly Felicitie, and following Folly. Bethinke thée [Page 70] now, and tell me if it be in thy power to rid thée from these gréeuaunces? Hearing my conscience thus speak, my thought I sawe hell open to swallowe me vp, and with sorrowfull sadnesse I fell to the ground, before Gods grace, speachlesse: but she had compassion vpon me, and bad me rise, the which I did, though halfe in dispaire, and to recomfort me, shée opned the booke which Remembraunce held in her hand.

BY COMMAVNDEMENT OF GODS GRACE, Remembraunce read to me the goodnesse of God, with his promises made to repentaunt sinners. The fift Chapter.

AFter Remembraunce had opened her booke, I perceiued the letters were of golde and Azure, conteining the great, goodnesse and in­finit mercie of God, to repentaunt sinners, with faire promises annexed thervnto▪ Then at commaundement of Gods grace, Remem­braunce read out of that booke vnto me in this manner. S. Paule writing to the Romaines, saith, Where sinne hath a­bounded, grace hath more abounded. He that mistrusteth the mercye of God, mistrusteth God to be mercifull, and in so dooing, he doth God great iniurie. For he denieth God to be Loue, Truth, and Power, wherein consisteth all the hope of poore sinners. For of his great loue, he sent his onely son to take mans nature vpon him in the world, that in the same he might suffer death vpon the Crosse, for the remission of sinnes. Consequently he promised for the loue of his sonne, remission and pardon to all poore sinners, so often as they require it in faith, with a heauy and sorrowfull heart. Now God is as true of his promises, as he is of power able to performe thē. And as he is of power, so will he doe whatso­euer pleaseth him. God wil pardon sinners their sins? Who then can let him from doing it? To whom God pleaseth, or [Page 71] hath promised to pardon their sinnes, he forgiueth. The truth héereof is written in plaine wordes, & shewed by examples in many places of the holy Scripture, as well in y^e old testament as y^e new. First Esay saith, It is I my selfe, Esay. 45. It is I my selfe that doth blotte out thine iniquities for mine owne loue sake, & I will not haue thy sins in remembrance, For the loue of me (saith he) & not for the loue of thée, mea­ning my goodnesse and mercie, & not for the loue of thy me­rits. As if he said to all sinners in this sort, If thou thinkest y^t I pardon thy sins for thy merits sake, thou art deceiued & wallowest in dispaire: no no, but for my mercy & infinit good­nes I remit & forgiue. Thou hast no cause to dispaire, for y^e least part of my mercie excéedeth all thy sinnes. In an other place he saith by the same Prophet. Turne your selues vnto me all the earth, and you shall be saued, for I am God, and there is none other besides me. What is the meaning of these words, I am God, anie thing els but that God is good & mercifull? If it be vnpossible but he should be God, it is vn­possible but he should be good and mercifull.

The same Prophet, speaketh vnto euerie one of vs, say­eng, Let the Infidell leaue his waye, Esay. 35▪ and the vniust man his thoughts, let them turne to the Lord, and he will haue pitie vpō him, for he is redy to forgiue. By his Prophet Ieremy, hée saith to the people of Israel, that he was wroth for their Idolatrie, & manie other sinnes: neuerthelesse he said. Turne Israel thou Rebell, vnto me thy Lord, and I will not turne my face from thee, or as the Hebrew text saith, I will not lay mine ire vpon thee, for I am (saith the Lord) holy and gentle, and keepe not mine anger foreuer. By the Prophet Ezechiel he sath, If the euill man repent him of his sinnes, Ezechi. 18 and keepe my commaundemants, doing righteously, he shal liue and not dye, neither will I haue his former offences a­nie more in remembraunce. Doe you thinke (saith the LORDE) that I delight in the death of a sinner, nay rather that hee shoulde turne from his wickednesse and liue. Repent you then and you shall liue. The Pro­phet Dauid said, That from morning till night Israel hoped [Page 72] in the Lord. What doth this signifie, but that the faithfull from their natiuitie and birth, vntil their verie death, haue hope in the Lord.

There is mercy in the Lord, and great redemption atten­deth vpon him. Ioel. 2. In Ioel it is writtē, Turne your selues vnto the Lord, with all your heart, in fasting, praieng, weeping, sorrow, tearing your hearts and not your garments, so shall you be turned vnto the Lord your God, for he is ful of cle­mencie, mercie, & great grace, slowe to ire, & redie to for­giue: or (as the Hebrewe text saith) such a one as repents him of euill: that is to say, is loth to execute the punishment vpon sinners, which he hath denounced and threatened. Micheas the Prophet sayth. What God is there like vnto thee, Micheas. 7 which takest awaie iniquities, & forgiuest sins, for the rest of thine heritage sake. He keepeth not his ire for euer, but of his compassion & mercy wil haue pitie vpon vs. He will put out our iniquities, and throw all our sins into the bottome of the sea. What sinner is ther, that hearing these wordes, hath so heauie a heart as to dispaire, séeing that God is more readie to forgiue, then the sinner to aske for­giuenesse?

Now let vs come to the new Testament, to trie if there be not testimonies to the same effect. The sonne of God which is the infallyble truth,Iohn 3. spake this to Nicodemus. God so loued the world that he gaue his onelye begotten sonne, to the end that whosoeuer beleeued in him shoulde bee saued, and not perish, but haue euerlasting life. God sent not his sonne into the world to condempne the world, but to the end the world shuld be saued by him. To the Scribes and Pharesies which murmured because he did eate & drink among Publicans and sinners. Christ said, Those that bee whole need not the Phisition, but such as be sicke. Againe, I came not (saith the Lord) to call the iust, but sinners to re­pentaunce. Not as a Iudge, but as a Phisition. For such as languish in their sinnes, came I into the worlde, not that they should remaine sinners, but to turne them from their sinnes, that béeing penitent, they might be made righteous. [Page 73] Likewise he tolde the Pharesies,Luke. 15. That the Angells in hea­uen doe more reioyce in one penitent sinner, then in .99. iust persons which needes no repentance. God (saith Saint Paule) spared not his onely sonne for vs, Rom. [...]. but that he shoulde rather die, then we be vnpardoned.

If God spared not his onely sonne to dye for sinners, what thing is more worthy and precious vnto him, that he should refuse them. And therefore the same Apostle speaking of Ie­sus Christ saith thus, We haue not an high priest which can­not haue compassion of our infirmities, Heb 4. but such a one as in all points was tempted as well as we, sinne excepted, Let vs goe then boldly to the seate of grace, that we may obteine mercie & find grace, in time conuenient. If I shuld reherse al the places of the Scripture, to this effect, the time would faile me. Thus we sée thē none hath cause to distrust y^e good­nes of God, or to dispaire of the greatnesse of his sins, seeing that God hath made so many faire promises to pardon the penitent sinner,Chron. 33. there be many examples in the olde & new testament, of the performance of Gods promises, as namely to Dauid, who committed both adultrie & murther, he, euen he, by sorrowing for his offences, and crieng Peccaui, ob­teined mercy, and pardon of all his wickednesse.

Manasses the son of Ezechias restored the false worship of God, which his father had defaced, & of an euill zeale to infidelitie, he himselfe offered vp his own children in fire for sacrifice. He persecuted the Prophets, & slew innumerable innocents: amongst all which he caused the Prophet Esay to be sawne in péeces. In the end he was takē by the enimies, and lead captiue to Babilon. But when he was in his extre­mitie, he acknowledged his offences, & asked forgiuenesse of God, of whom he was receiued into fauour, & restored to his kingdome againe. The people of Niniue whom God threa­tened by y^e Prophet Ionas, vtterly to destroy for y^e multitude for their sins, they repented & praid: & so God forgaue them. The Samaritane also & the Cananite, Luke 7 notwithstanding their horrible sins, when they asked God mercy, he forgaue them. Mathew, Zachee, & diuers other publicans,Iohn. 4. vpon their repē ­taunce [Page 74] were receiued into fauour. Peter y^t denied his Mai­ster thrée times, & gaue himself to the diuell if he knew him, whē he wept bitterly for his sins, he was receiued into mer­cy. The theefe also vpon the crosse, being at point of death, euē this fellow, who liued vppon nothing but robberie, & man­slaughter all his life time, acknowledged his hainous sins, asking pardon, & God forgaue him: yea, he obteined more then he required. For Christ said vnto him, This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise. This is Gods propertie, euen to giue of his liberalitie more then men doe or can aske. S. Paul was a blasphemer & a persecutor of Gods church,Act. 9. Tim. 1. & yet he receiued mercy. God hath set downe such persons as exā ­ples for sinners, to y^e end they should not doubt of his mer­cy: & to teach them y^t he doth not pardon offences for y^e merits of y^e sinners, which are starke naught, euen when they are best, but for his mercies sake which is aboue all his works. For so to imagine of mens merits is destructiō: if any thing be ascribed vnto merits, then for y^e merits of his son Iesus Christ, & for his bitter passion sake. Let this be the conclusi­on, that albeit y^e sinner hath committed as many sinnes as there be drops of water in the sea, or sands on the sea shore: yet he hath no cause to dispaire. For though they be neuer so monstrous & manifold: yet the mercy of God doth infinitly exceed them. For his mercy consumes them sooner then the fierce fire doth burne vp the dry Toe.Psal. 93.

When I heard lady Remembraunce read these words, I toke hart at grasse, & recited a place written in y^e Psalms of Dauid, According to the multitude of the griefes & sor­rows of my heart, Psal. 93. thy consolations haue refreshed my soule. And then falling on my knées, holding vp my hands, with sorowful countenaunce, & confidence of heart, resting whol­ly vpon the mercies and promises of God, & the merits of our Lord and sauiour Iesus Christ. I most humbly desired pardon for my sins, at the hands of Gods grace. Upon which vnfeined confession of mine offences & heart griefe, hand­maids of perfect Repentance, & fore-runners to the purpose. I receiued by the meanes of Gods grace, the benefit of the [Page 75] death & passion of our Lord & sauiour Iesus Christ, to whom with the father & the holy Ghost be all honour & glorie for euer and euer, Amen.

¶A SERMON VVHICH VNDERSTANDING THE good Hermit made vnto the knight, vpon the History of Marie Magdalene. The sixt Chapter.

IN the name of y^e father, of the son, & of the holy Ghost, Amen. The great goodnes & vnspeakable mercie which hath ben vsed in al ages & times, of our Lord & sauiour Iesus Christ towards all poore sinners, are in many places of the Gospel made manifest, & cleerly notified: but chiefly in y^e vii. of Luke. Wherin mention is made of a sinful woman, lewd of life, & ill of name, contemned, despised, & abhorred of men, whom swéet Iesus, did not onely receiue to fauour, but also by inward & secret inspiration drew her to repentance, how & in what sort, heare & vnderstand. The Gospell saith, y^t ther was a Pharesie furnished with false faith, & misled with a vaine opinion of holinesse: he was a great doctour of law, & a renowmed Iusticiarie, howbeit weak in faith, & yet verie high minded. When our sauiour had one day preached & in­structed the people by his diuine & holy doctrine, exhorting poore sinners to turne to God by repentance, & vttering ma­ny parables and similitudes: as the prodigall child, the lost sheepe, & such like, what else doth he declare & signifie, but y^t he is inclined to compassion, readie to haue mercie, & to re­ceiue into fauour all repentant sinners. The proud Pharesie praied him to come into his house & to dine with him. The good Lord which had taken vpon him mans nature, and was borne for y^e saluation of all, denied not this proud fellows re­quest, neither refused to enter into his house, although hée was ambitious, but down at y^e table sat y^e son of God, made man, for y^e saluatiō of men. He was conuersant among men, he did eate & drink with men, he offred himselfe a helper to euery one, shewing vnto al his goodnes, without exception of any. Now he being set at y^e table, ther came one vnto him in shape like a woman, but in courage a man, who by the bruite of the whole Citie, was counted a greate sinner, [Page 76] and very il reported of y^e world, & such a one indéed as euery body mocked & pointed at with their fingers. But yet in the sight of God she was in great honour, not because she was an hainous sinner, but because she was predestinated & elec­ted of God from y^e beginning, to reigne with him in his hea­uenly kingdome.

This woman hearing by report, the renowne of our re­déemer, & that he shewed himselfe swéete and bountiful to all sinners, defending them against the malitious slaunders & mocks of the proud and arrogant Pharesies, & promising to euery one that beleeued in him the kingdome of heuen: this woman was inspired both outwardly and inwardly by our Lord & Sauiour Iesus Christ, to sée & heare him preach. Thē did she by outward speach expresse, how she was inwardly affected & moued in minde, & séeing her soule sore sicke & dis­eased, her heart full of iniquitie and sinne, her conscience de­filed with all kinde of vice, her selfe frustrate and void of all hope of health, & deuising how to recouer this malady, adres­sed her selfe to séeke him, who is the onely Surgeon of all sicke soules: she sought for grace at the Well of mercie, and though she was a shamefull sinner, yet she was receiued of him which came into the world to saue sinners. She came not pompeously araied, nor yet came with a train, she came alone, and not emptie handed: For she brought with her a boxe full of most pretious ointment, of a swéete smell, re­presenting the Faith, Hope, and Charitie, lodged in her heart.

What could this be but the swéete smell of vertue? For what represented the boxe of Alabaster stone, but holy faith founded vpon the true cornerd stone, Iesus Christ, wherin is conserued all vertues, & without which it is vnpossible to please God. Came she alone, being accompanied w^t Faith, Hope, & Charitie, Humilitie & Repētāce. She entred y^e house vncalled, wher was her phisition, & putting a part al shame, which leadeth to perdition, together with the mockes of the proud Pharesies, which sat at the table, she craued comfort and health for her sicke soule, acknowledging her griefe, [Page 77] and y^t being certein he to whom she came, had power to help hir. Unto this phisition she could not haue come w^tout faith, she was not so bold & hardy as to look Iesus in y^e face, but fel at his féete vpon hir knées, lamentably: weeping and with the floude of hir teares washing his féete, and wiping and drieng them with hir hairie looks. Then she kissed them, and with hir precious ointment, she anoynted them.

All this while hir voice was not heard, but hir heart spake vnto the true Sonne of God, saieng: I haue no need to declare with my tongue my inward griefes, or to expresse the cause of my comming hether, séeing thou knowest y^e se­crets of the heart. Unto thée I come, O Christ, for remissi­on of my sinnes, offering to thee my sorrowfull heart for sa­crifice. Surely this womans working, well waied, giueth euidence; that she was right heartely sorie, for hir offences. For hir Christall eies, and hir faire face, which was wont to be painted with costly coulours for the adourning of hir beautie, to allure licentious louers, and so lyke voluptuous worldlings, is now turned into teares. Hir body which a­fore time was giuen to delights, is now afflicted w^t fasting: hir laughing, is turned to wéeping: and as hir first life, was wholy bent to please the world, so now it is more vehement­ly and earnestly disposed to please God.

With hir faire flaxen haire which she was wont to kéepe daintely, she hath dried our Sauiours feete: hir swéete lips, wherewith she vsed to kisse hir louers, haue kissed his feete: hir odoriferous oyntment, wherwith she beautified hir face, in wantonnes, hath anointed our Sauiours feete. Now all this was a sure signe of Faith, Hope, & Charitie, & thus you sée how we ought to repent. Surely, we shuld doe according to S. Paules doctrine, y^t Euery mēber, which hath consented to commit iniquitie, shuld be offered vnto the Lord, Rom. 6. as in­struments of righteousnesse to receiue sanctification. As for example, to make the matter more manifest. Hast thou bene a dronkard? Become now sober. Hast thou ben a glut­ton? Now fast. Hast thou bene prowde? Be now humble. Hast thou bene couetous? Now giue almes. Hast thou ben [Page 78] wrathfull? Be now gentle. Hast thou bene enuious? Be now charitable. Hast thou bene traiterous? Be now faith­full. Hast thou bene lecherous? Be now chast. Hast thou bene blasphemous? Be now fearefull to speake any thing but truth. And so consequently to euery vilde vice, laye a méete medicine, which may serue for thy sicknesse, and expel the poyson of sinne.

But now let vs sée, what may be thought and iudged of this Pharesie, who so sawcely besought our Lord and Saui­our to come into his house. Surely he seemed as he was, a vainglorious Hypocrite. For when he saw the wofull wo­man falne at the feete of our Sauiour, with hir teares wa­shing them, with hir haire wiping them, with hir mouth kissing them, & with hir precious ointment anointing them, he blamed not onely hir, in his heart: but also our Lord for suffering hir. Then y^e Lord tooke the sick woman, healed hir of hir sicknes, in y^e presence of this proud Pharesie, & with held phisick from him, whose hart was wounded to y^e death, with the dart of vain-glory. Then he shewed himselfe fran­ticke, and as one that had lost his vnderstanding, not know­ing his griefe, nor what medicine would doe him good. But what said he in his foolish hart? If this man (quod he) were a Prophet, he would know quickly what woman this is that touched him, for she is a great sinner.

This Pharesie is of the race of the vainglorious, of whom the Prophet Esay speaketh in their person, saieng: Come not neere me, for I am cleane: or as another translation saith. Get thee hence, Esa. 61. meddle not with mee, for I am holier then thou. Euen so surely it is not vnlike if the woman hadde come néere the Pharesie, he would haue vsed these words, & haue said, Stand backe and touch me not, for I am holy, but thou art a knowne and a hainous sinner. Certainelye, true righteousnes and holinesse hath compassion vpon poore sinners, whereas on the contrarie, false righteousnesse and hypocrisie hath them in hatred and disdaine. But let vs ly­sten, with what sentence this fond Pharesie was conuinced and proued by our Sauiour, to be worse then this sinfull [Page 79] woman, The Lord then to shewe that he was not onely a Prophet, but also the Lord and God of Prophets, aunswe­red the thought of this proud Pharesie: saieng, Symon I haue some thing to tell thee. Then said he, speake on Master.

A Creditour (quoth the Lorde) hadde two Debters, whereof the one ought him 500. pence, the other but 50. now they both hauing nothing to pay, the creditor forgiues them the debt. Now tell me which of those debtours loueth the creditour most, Simon said, I thinke he to whome most was forgiuen. Iesus aunswered, thou hast rightly spoken.

Our Lord in propounding this question, desired also to heale this Pharesie. For if he had denied it, Iesus woulde haue eaten none of his meate. These two debtours were Si­mon and the sinfull woman. The sinfull woman not onely by the iudgement of the standers by, but also by hir owne confession, acknowledged hir self more indebted than Simon, & Simon lesse indebted then she, because he thought himself to haue lesse sinned then y^e woman: yea, he reputed himself righteous in respect of hir. The creditour is our Lord God, who lendes and giues vs his giftes both temporall and spi­rituall to interest, disburssing to one fiue talents, to another two, and to another one. Now then is signified by the iudg­ment of Simon, that the woman was most in debt to God, vnto whom he forgaue most. And because she loued God bet­ter then Simon did, she deserued againe of him to be better beloued, in that she did more good seruice to God, then Simon did, notwithstanding his meate.

Wherefore the Lord valued the loue & good will of this woman, & preferred it before Simons, reprehending him of his arrogancie, & saieng, Doest thou see this woman whom thou iudgest more in debt then thy selfe? I entred into thy house, and thou hast not giuen me water to wash my feete, but she hath washt them with teares, & wipt them with hir haire, though water was easier to be found thē teares. Thou hast not kist my mouth, but she hath kist my feet. Thou hast not anointed my head with common oyle, but she hath a­noynted my feete with fine oyntment.

[Page 80] So that by these signes thou seest, that she loues me better then thou doest. Therefore I tell thee that manye sinnes are forgiuen hir, because shee loued much. For to him is least forgiuen, that hath least loued.

The Lord said this, to beate downe the prowde opinion of the fond Pharisie, not that he was but little forgiuen: but because Simon might knowe that he thought so. For truly, who so committeth most sinnes, he is most indebted to God: and so likewise of him that least offended. To con­clude, both the lesse & the great stand in néede of Gods grace, vnto whom they cannot come of their owne strength & ver­tue. And as the greatest sinner referreth to God the remis­sion of his sinnes: euen so ought the iustest man to doe al­so. For there is no sinne which one man committeth, but an other would commit the like, if God who made man with­out sinne, did not kéepe him from sinne, as witnesseth Saint Austen. But perchaunce one will say: I haue not commit­ted Adulterie as this man hath. To whome I aunswere. Thou hast not had such occasion ministred as he hath had: and he hath not had the grace to auoid it, as thou hast had. It was Gods doing, and no will of thine, if thou hast had no occasion nor conuenient time, nor fit opportunitie, to fall in­to that sinne.

Suppose thou hast had occasion offered, with opportuni­tie and all things fit, and yet hast refrained. Well, it is God then that hath guided and gouerned thée, that thou shuldest not doe it. Acknowledge then the grace of God, as thou art bound, because thou hast not committed such a sinne. For as he who hath committed most sins, is most indebted to God: euen so is he who neuer sinned, Gods debter. For were not the grace of God his guide, he woulde doe ill inough. Now to our purpose.

After the Lord had conuinced the Pharesie of his prowd opinion, to comfort the sorowfull woman lyeng at his féet, he said thus: Woman, thy sinnes are forgiuen thee. O ioifull voice, O happy woman, that art worthye to heare the Sonne of God speake to thée, and vnto forgiue thée thy [Page 81] sinnes. But those comfortable words of the Lord, greatly offended the proud Pharisies at the feast, who turned them to blasphemie, saieng: What fellowe is this that also forgi­ueth sinnes? It is apparent inough that he is a blasphemer, for to pardon and forgiue sinnes, belongeth onelye to God.

No doubt our Lord Iesus Christ was taken to be a ve­ry poore man, of him that requested him to dinner, and to those which were at the table. It was knowen that man could not forgiue sinnes, but they beléeued not that Iesus Christ was God: and therefore say they, What fellowe is this that forgiueth sinnes? These feasters were sicke of a deadly disease, which they neither knew, nor yet the remedy to heale and doe them good. Is it not a madnesse that such as are sicke should fall a laughing at them that are sounde and in good health? So did the Pharesies laugh at Iesus Christ, and the woman, who were not sicke: or if she were sicke, she acknowledged hir sicknesse, and sought helpe of the Phisition. It is most true, that a man cannot forgiue sins: but this woman, which beleeued that Christ coulde forgiue sinnes, beléeued also that he was God, and therefore able to forgiue sinnes.

But why did not our Sauiour Christ aunswere these murmuring Pharesies, and say: I am the Sonne of God, when they asked the question saieng: What fellowe is this that forgiueth sinnes? No, he let them murmure, and tur­ned himselfe towards the woman, and said: Thy faith hath saued thee, depart in peace. Though she heard him say vnto the Pharesies, these men murmure, and estéeme of me as it pleaseth them: neuerthelesse be thou assured that thy faith hath saued thee, and therefore depart in peace, and enioy full rest and tranquilitie of conscience, iustified by a liuely faith, and fulfilled with loue. Let all sicke soules, that are laden with sinnes, if they will be healed, let them (I say) come in faith and assured hope to the true Phisition of soules, which is Iesus Christ, let them confesse their offences with sorow and wéeping, let them wipe the féete of our Lord, with their [Page 82] haire, and they shall be restored, made whole, and recouer their health.

Let your superfluous riches be giuen among the poore, and not spent in feasting, dronkennes, and pompeous appa­raile. And after that the sinner with great loue and libera­litie hath thought vppon the poore, speaking to them with great gentlenesse, helping them in their néede, as well with good counsell, as with almes déedes: and liuing as the rule of Gods word requireth, in holinesse and righteousnesse, he shall be sure to receiue peace and quietnesse of conscience, and be reconciled to God the father, for the merites of his deare Sonne Iesus Christ his death and passion, to whom be all honour and glory for euer and euer. Amen.

¶THE KNIGHT HAVING RECEIVED THE holy Communion, heard the sermon, and ended dinner, mounted into a chariot of triumph, and was (by Gods grace) carried to the Pallaice of Vertue. The vij. Chapter.

IT cannot be knowen how much consolati­on I tooke by the Sermon of the good Her­mit, wherefore I was desirous to know his name, the which I asked of Lady Memory, who tolde me that it was good Vnderstan­ding. Then I receiued the holy Communi­on, which being ended, and thankes giuen to God, I meant to salute and gratifie him. But before we went to receiue the holy Sacrament of the body & bloud of our Lord, & Sa­uiour Iesus Christ, I remembred the great loue of our Lord which humbly tooke vpon him our fraile and weake nature, for our sakes became accursed, and suffred most bitter death vpon the Crosse, to deliuer vs out of the bondage of sinne, hell, and eternall death, and to bring vs to euerlasting life. I [Page 83] remembred also the loue which he shewed vnto me in draw­ing me out of the sinke of sinne, wherein I was plunged ouer head and eares: so that I was not onely drawn from my vnspekable sinnes, but also made a Communicant of the mysterie of his deuine maiestie by faith. And to the ende it might please him to giue me grace to receiue it aright, I praied vnto him on this wise.

O sweete Iesus and louing Redéemer, I yéelde thée thankes for thy vnspeakable loue, by the which thou hast purged me from the filth of sinne, and pluckt me by thy grace, out of the darke dungeon of death. Beholde, I recon­cile my selfe vnto thée, most heartely beséeching thée, that thou wouldest vouchsafe (amongst the great number of thy benefites) of thy great liberalitie, to giue me grace to bée a faithfull pertaker of thy precious body and bloud, repre­sented vnto me vnder the visible forme of bread and wine. O immortall King, I am not worthy, I confesse, of so great á benefite: yet I beséech thée, as thou doest make the vn­worthye worthye, and the sinners iust: so make me worthy to receiue this holy, blessed and heauenly Sacrament, to my soules health. Féede, my sinfull soule, O Lord, with thy spi­rituall bodie, and let thy bloud reuiue and quicken my spi­rite. O make me (by thy grace dailye encreasing in me) a member of thy mysticall bodie, that I maye bée included within the couenaunt and blessing which thou madest with thy Saints and Apostles, in thy last Supper: communica­ting vnto them the holy Sacrament of thy bodie and bloud: and consequently, that I maye be of the number of them, which according to their vowe and promise made in Bap­tisme, doe liue in faith, and by thy grace are receiued into the company of Saints. Amen.

This Praier being ended, with all reuerence and deuo­tion I receiued the holy Sacrament, and that being ended, we went from the Chapple into a great hall, where I met the good Hermite Vnderstanding, whom when I had salu­ted, and he me, I thanked him for his good Sermon. Then as wee were talking, Gods grace saide vnto me, Sir [Page 84] Knight, I giue thée for thy Gouernour this good Hermite Vnderstanding, belieue his counsell, and doe what he com­mands thée. Then I remembred my olde Gouernesse Fol­ly, whom I left in the bog, amongst serpents and toads. So I was very glad of my Gouernour, and gaue thankes to Gods grace: who from the table gaue me drugs to eate, and repeating vnto me a place, written in the .80. Psalme of Dauid, Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it. Then hauing swallowed y^t which she gaue me,Psa. 80. I forgat the world, & made no reckoning of any thing therin. For all my desire was in hast to see y^e pallaice of true Felicitie. I desired death to be with Christ in Heauen. Dinner being done, the gates of Repentaunce were opened, which were narrowe: contrariwise as it appeareth in the first Booke, that the en­traunce into the Pallaice of Voluptuousnesse, was wide, large and great, but the ende thereof was desperation and destruction: as on the other side, the entring into the Pal­laice of Repentaunce, is straight and narrow, but the ende thereof is eternall lyfe. For Repentaunce (as Saint Paule saith) leadeth the repepentant to euerlasting saluation.2. Cor. 7.

When the gates were open, I mounted vp into a Chari­ot of Iuorie, hauing golden whéeles, and two white horses with wings, drawing the same. Gods grace gate vp first, and with hir hande helped me vp, then followed the good Hermit Vnderstanding, then Memory, Conscience, and Re­pentaunce, but Gods grace gouerned all, who touching the horses with hir rod, they mounted vp ouer the Mountaines which are aboue the earth. So we passed through the region of the aire, where inhabiteth all the wicked spirites, which watcheth to annoye such as would mount vp into Heauen. And though I was greatly agast heereat, yet my trust was in Gods grace, vnder whose wings I hid my selfe. I trusted not in my Conscience, for all it was at peace: nor to Re­pentaunce, nor to Vnderstanding: but to Gods grace one­ly: who safelye shrowded mée vnder hir winges, as the Henne doeth hir Chickens against the comming of the Kite.

[Page 85]Then she commaunded the wicked enimies to get them hence, and they foorthwith fled awaye, cryeng alowde, Now haue we lost our knight: Loe he is mounted vp to the pal­laice of vertue, in despite of vs all. How is he escaped (quod one,) vnder the wings of Gods grace, (quoth an other) from whence all we cannot fetch him. Béeing past this brunt, I heartely thanked Gods grace of her goodnesse, and on the sodeine I sawe vpon the toppe of a mountaine a goodly pal­laice. Nowe for that loue engendreth familyaritie, and familyaritie bréedes boldnesse: I asked Gods grace what place it was, and shée tolde mee it was the pallaice of Ver­tue. It was so high that it reached euen to heauen, and a­bout it were seauen faire Towres of Alabaster. In the first dwelt Faith: in the second Hope: in the thirde Cha­ritie: in the fourth Wisdome: in the fift, Iustice: in the sixt, Fortitude: and in the seauenth Temperaunce.

In the first Towre Gods grace shewed mée Faith, which waited for our comming, néere adioyning vnto whome I might perceiue the Pallaice of true Felicitie. With that I desired Ladie Memorie to put mée in minde in the morning, of going to sée that gallaunt citie. Whiles we were thus deuising, our Chariot arriued at the Court, where Ladie Vertue with her daughters, Faith, Hope, Charitie, Wisedome, Iustice, Fortitude, and Temperaunce, dwelt. At the first sight I knewe it was the same Ladye Vertue, which afore time had so well admonished me, and I gaue no eare vnto her. Then reuerently vpon my kéenes lamenting, I cried her mercie, for contemning her counsel, & following Voluptuousnes. Wherwith she made me arise, and in token that she tooke in good part my recantation, shee sweetly kissed me, and bad me welcome. So with great ioy accompanied with Gods grace, true Vnderstanding, quiet Conscience, & vnfained Repentance, I entered into the pal­laice of Lady Vertue. And thus endeth the second part of my voiage.

THE KNIGHT DECLARETH THE GREAT good, the solace, and the pleasures, which he found in the Pallaice of Lady Vertue. The first Chapter.

IF I HAD A THOVSANDE tongues, to tell the truth of all the goods and pleasures, which I found in the pallaice of Vertue: and if I should liue a thousande yeares, to report this matter, al were too lit­tle, in euery point to decipher it. For it con­sisteth not in Angelical knowledge, much lesse in mans wit, wholy to comprehend so notable a mysterie, none knows it but he who hath proued it. You may be sure, that there are not, as in the pallaice of worldly pleasure, Chambers han­ged about with silke Tapestry, and euerie corner sumptu­ously and superfluously adorned: no, no: but there were histories of the olde & new Testament to view & marke. I found not there cofers full of gold & siluer, cuberds of plate, presses of silke, all manner of mercery ware, neither daintie dishes, delicate drinkes, bawdie songs, wanton musike, y^e la­die of loue, her son Cupid, nor anie thing y^t worldlings em­brace: but I found a thing farre surpassing all that is in the world.

This good, this ioyfull, this comfortable, this vnspeakable, this incomprehensible thing, cannot be named worthely inough: but of good & bad he is called (God) euen he who is y^e only souereigne good aboue al things, reasonable, & vnreaso­nable. Peraduenture you wil say, This is strange newes, y^t you sir knight should sée God, in the pallaice of Vertue. How [Page 87] How is it straunge, séeing he is euerie where, not onelye in heauen but also in earth, & in hell. Truly I confesse y^t God is euerie where, but I denie him to dwel euerie where, & yet I know that by his power & inuisible presence he is euerye where, though not euerie where by the fulnesse of his great­nes, & his gifts: it follows then that he dwelleth not euerye where. I pray you what profiteth it the dampned, that he is in hell, by his power, iustice, & vengeaunce? Surely by such presence of God they haue no ioye, no consolation, no bene­fit, nor felicitie, for that all are curssed, in whome GOD dwelleth not by his grace, whatsoeuer they be, be they kings, Princes, or Popes, who haue all other riches and delights in the world.

But all they y^t haue the grace of God are happie, at least­wise in hope, though they liue euen in a loathsome prison, & are poorer then Lazarus, which desired to be refreshed with the crums that fell from the euill rich mans table. Nowe, when we praye to God, we saye not: Our Father which art euerie where, but Our Father which art in heauen: and that is the place where God giues the enioyeng and pos­sessing of himselfe to his elect, and that is their dwelling, prepared by the grace of God: That is it that God spake of by the Prophet Esaie, sayeng: Heauen is my seat, Esay. 66. and earth is my foote-stoole. Forasmuch, sayth God, as I dwell in mine elect by grace, I will tumble at my féet those that loue Voluptuousnesse, rather then their maker. In the booke of Wisedome, it is written: That the seate of wisedome is the soule of the iust: God is Wisedome,VVis. 7. and the iust soule his seate. God is in euerie place where hée dwelleth, but he dwelleth not in euery place where he is. This is most true, though meruailous, for the euill are alwaies where GOD is, but yet God dwelleth not in them.

Wheresoeuer the wicked, are they cannot hide them­selues from GOD, and yet they are not dwellers with GOD, nor GOD a dweller with them. They are where GOD is: as the blinde man in the light of the Sunne. The light is not in him, because hée hath not [Page 88] the vse of it. But the good are alwaies with God, and God dwelleth in them as in his temple. Saint Paule saith, That the Temple of God is holy. And therefore if you liue as he commaundes you,Cor. 3. you are his Temple: and God himselfe saith, I will be in them, I will walke amongest them, I will be their God, Cor. 6. and they shall be my people. Now therefore you sée, that although God be euerie where by his power, yet he dwelleth no where, but where he is by grace. It is plaine, that where vertue is, there God dwelleth. Tell mée what displeasure can the soule haue, where God inhabiteth by grace, which is the onely consolation of all reasonable creatures.

Is it possible y^t anie man can finde in heauen or in earth such souereigne good, as is in God, who is the most excel­lentest and chiefest good, and the true ioy of all reasonable creatures? How can that bodie faile of anie goodnesse, which hath God by his grace resting in his heart, who is the one­ly author of all goodnesse, and the giuer of all true ioye, and perfect felicitie?

But some will saie that they sée good people in the world oftentimes, suffer miserie, depriued of their goods, and put by the pleasures of this world, which appeareth in the sad­nesse of their countenaunces: for they séeme to be conceiued with sorrow, and as it were, to labour and trauaile in heaui­nes, as a woman in child-birth. I confesse it to be so, but yet if you say that they are not furnished with all good & true ioye and felicitie, you erre greatly. For the souereigne good which is God, dwelleth in the iust soule euermore: although foolish worldlings say in their hearts and thoughts, Can it be, that those miserable men, which are afflicted with po­uertie or imprisonment, haue more possession of true fely­citie, then wee that wallowe in wealth, and are with­out want of any worldly pleasures? But they consider not that true ioy consisteth in the soule. But be ye sure that as the soule is the most precioust part of the bodie: euen so ought the goodnesse of the soule, to be greater then the good­nesse of the bodie. The ioye of the iust & righteous is more [Page 89] inward then outward, for all his goodnesse is in the soule: as the ioye of the wanton worldling is outwardlye in the bodie.

The iust man suffereth outward extremities, but yet in­wardly he hath more ioye then the voluptuous man. And though the iust man being alwaies afflicted, maketh shew of sadnesse all his lyfe time, yet at the houre of death their ioye and consolation appeareth with hope of eternall lyfe: whereas contrariwise the worldling goeth his waye with grudging and dispaire. The iust man esteemes golde and siluer to be couloured earth: worldly wealth, and voluptu­ous feeding, to be famine and filth: honour, dignitie, and de­light, to be smoake, which the aire consumeth sodeinly: to be short, he maketh all the world no better then an exile: and although his bodie be deteined heere for a season, yet all his thoughts, cares, desires and meditations, are conuer­sant among the orders of holy Angels, and the happy assem­bly of Saintes in heauen, singing Psalmes and praises incessantlye. So that whatsoeuer we esteeme euill in this world, God turnes it to good. For he makes vs reioyce in tribulatiōs, taking them for medicines to purge our corrup­tions, and not accompting our persecutors as our enimies: but rather as helpers to saluation.

The iust man esteemes simple fare sufficing nature bet­ter, then abundance of delicates, and excessiue dronkennesse or gluttonie. They take more pleasure in kneeling, praieng, and fasting, then worldlinges doe in dauncing and singing wanton songs. Finally, all y^t they doe or suffer, God turnes it to good. And therfore S. Paule saith, That all things turne to the good of those that loue God: The eye neuer séeth, the eare neuer heareth, the heart of man neuer vnderstan­deth the great goodnesse and the ioye that God brings into the bodie, when he commeth by grace to dwell in it onely he that hath had experience once, knoweth it. Worldlings doe wonder to see the iust man weepe and lament, to suffer tribu­lations, & to be depriued of all worldly pleasure: they esteeme the goods of this world to be y^e true felicitie: much like vnto [Page 90] a blinde man, taking vpon him to iudge of coulours. For they compare false felicitie & worldly wealth, with heauenly riches and perfect happinesse, whereas indéede they are but shadowes. Nothing displeaseth the elect more then sinne, & that which leadeth to sinne: nothing pleaseth the elect but God, and that which leadeth to God.

As concerning the soule, no man can denie, if he hate sin, and loue vertue, but that he had rather loose all that is in the worlde, then loose vertue, and suffer all manner of tor­ments, then to commit sinne: he had rather descende into hell with vertue, then mount vp into heauen with sinne. For where vertue is, there is quietnesse: Contrariwise, where sinne is, there can be no rest. Let euerie one therefore labour to loose worldly happinesse, if he meane to atchieue vertue, wherein consisteth so much goodnesse.

But many make no account to come thether, and so care not for louing vertue, because indéede they know not vertue. Wherefore Vnderstanding describeth her, and her seauen daughters, namely: Faith, Hope, Charitie, Wisedome, Iu­stice, Fortitude, and Temperaunce, in manner and forme following.

THE DESCRIPTION OF VERTVE. The second Chapter.

VErtue according to the definition of S. Au­sten, in his second booke of Free-will, the .18. chapter, Is a good quality of the soule, wher­by a man liueth rightly, & committeth none euill, which thing indeed is the only work of God in men. By the soule he vnderstan­deth in this place the superiour part of the minde or soule, wherein consisteth reason, iudgement, & will. The inferiour parte we call Sense, which is common to man and beast. Now this called in Latine Mens, is not a part of the soule sensitiue, which is the inferiour part: but it is that part of the soule, where reason and vnderstanding doe sit, which is the superiour part. By the soule then we doe meane the Fréewill of man, which is nothing els as Philosophers say, [Page 91] but the franke iudgement of the minde and will. For when we say Freewill, we vtter and pronounce two words, name­ly (Free) and (Will.) It is tearmed (Free) because that freely and without constraint, the will worketh his feats at liber­tie. And it is called Frée will, because of the iudgement of the soule, therefore Frée will is in the superiour part of the soule, for thereby we differ from brute beasts, who haue a sense as well as we, but no iudgement of Frée will. Nowe, when we say that vertue is a good qualitie of the soule, that is to saie, of Frée will. For vertue qualifies (Free-will) dis­poseth and prepareth it to doe and will well, neither of which cannot be done, without the aide and grace of God.

The second part of the definition is, Wherby a man liueth rightly. But no man liueth rightly vnles he liue iustly, no mā liueth iustly w^tout vertue: Ergo no man liueth rightly with­out vertue. Who so liueth rightly liueth wel: & who so liueth well, if he continue in so doing, atchiueth true felicitie. It followeth then, y^t by vertue we atchiue true felicitie: for ver­tue prepares Frée will, which is corrupt & depraued, & ther­fore vnapt either for well willing or well doing: but the grace of God reseruing it by vertue, it is made capable of perfect blessednesse.

The third part of y^e definition is, And committeth none euill. Wherein is comprehended the excellencie of vertue & great goodnes, by the which none can do il. Men may abuse al y^e goods, al y^e arts & sciences in the world, as indéed very often they are ill vsed, as with monie, wine, & women: but by ver­tue they be neuer abused: who vseth vertue, he doth y^e works of vertue. Who so vseth y^e deeds of vertue, he doth wel: & if by vertue none doth ill, thou oughtest rather to loose all y^t is in the world, then to lose vertue, seeing, she excels in goodnesse all things in the world.

The fourth part of the definition is, Which thing indeed is the only work of God in man ▪ Uertue thē is a work of God in vs, as witnesseth S. Austen, vpon y^t sentence which is spo­ken in the 118. Psalme: I haue done iudgement & iustice. Iustice (saith he) is a great vertue of the soule, comming [...] [Page 94] more then he sawe, for he sawe a man, and he belée­ued that the same man was God also, which he sawe not: for he said, Thou art my God, and my Lord. In this con­sisteth the merite of faith, when a man at y^e commandement of God beleeueth that thing which he séeth not. To beleeue (saith Saint Austen) is to thinke vppon a thing, with con­sent to that thought: as when thou thinkest the Son of God was borne of a Uirgin, & had tooke mans nature vpon him, & consentest to y^e thought, it is properly called beliefe. This thought may come often by séeing, and often by hearing.

And therefore Saint Paule saith, that Faith commeth by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. He vnderstands that by hearing,Rom. 10. Faith comes into the minde and thought, if we consent therevnto. For we maye beholde a Preacher, without consenting to that he saith, because men doe not al­waies beleeue what the Preacher speaketh, for y^t the consent wherin consisteth the perfection of Faith, comes of the méere gift of God, & not from séeing nor hearing, but frō the light of grace speking in the soule of the beleeuer, beléeuing the prin­cipal truth, which is God, & working in him a consent & a­greement w^t that principal & souereign trurh aboue al other things. So that Faith is a foundation vnmoueable, both of beleeuers, and of truth, by the which Faith, when it is ioy­ned with Charitie, our Lord Iesus Christ, who is the onely foundation of true blessednesse, dwelleth in the hearts of the beleeuers, and so long as Faith is in man, he shal be sure not to perish, but Faith without Charitie is no foundation, be­cause such Faith is vaine and vnprofitable.

Faith then ioyned with Loue or Charitie belongs to good Christians: and Faith without Loue belongs to euill Chri­stians. It is necessarie therfore, that we note the difference in these three saiengs or speaches, namely: To beleeue a God, to beleeue of God, and to beleeue in God,

To beleeue of God, is to beléeue that all is true which God saith, & so beleeue the euill Christians as well as the good: vnlesse they be Heretikes.

To beleeue a God, is to beléeue that he is the onely true and [Page 95] almightie God, and so the Diuells doe beléeue, as well as the euill Christians. But to beléeue in God, is to loue God, and to trust in God, and in beléeuing to ioyne thy selfe to God, by loue and obedience, incorporating thée with his mē ­bers, that is to say, his Church.

This Faith iustifieth and maketh righteous the sinner, and this Faith being knit with Loue and with Charitie be­gins to doe good deedes, which cannot be done without Loue. The Faith which euill Christians haue, is indéede a qualy­tie of fréewill, but it is not knit with Loue and Charitie, which is the bonde of perfection, and the life of Faith, as Faith is the life of the soule. And yet such an vnshapen Faith being naked and voide of Charitie, may be termed a gift of God: for that the euill man may haue some gifte of God: but that cannot properly be called Vertue, because that by Vertue, we learne to liue rightly: and for that the Diuels and euill Christians doe liue wickedly, it is a signe that the faith which they haue is dead, and therefore is not properly Vertue, nor yet a worke of Vertue. If thou wilt then haue thy Faith to be good and wholesome, it must haue foure pro­perties, that is to say, it must be plaine and simple, it must be whole and sound, it must be constant and vnmouable, it must be quicke and liuely. Touching the first, that it must be plaine and simple, that teacheth thée thus much in effect, that thou must beléeue the word of God plainly & simply, & whatsoeuer is therein contained, without enquiring or sear­ching in Gods mysticall matters by humaine reasons: but simply beléeuing in thy heart, that euery thing contained in the holy Bible is most true. Secondly, thy Faith must be whole and sound: that is to say, thou must not take parte with heretikes, or leane to the erronious opinions of the eni­mies of Gods truth: for this is no good or wholesome Faith. And therefore for a testimonie of thy Faith, be not ashamed to make open confession in the congregation of thy beliefe, saieng with y^e felowship & communion of Saints, I beleeue in the holy Trinitie. & as y^e holy Church founded by Christ, whereof he is y^e head hath taught me, so do I frame my faith· [Page 96] Thirdly, it must be constant and vnmouable, that is to say, without doubting for any reson of mans braine that séemeth contrarie, nor for any temptation, promises or threatnings, either of torment or of death. And let not the obstinacie of such as inchaunt with the vaine pleasures of this life, al­though they liue most ioyfully, allure thee to leane to their opinion, which is flat heresie. For that is a work of Satans, who wholly possesses them, and can transfigure and chaunge himselfe into an Angell of light to deceiue the simple and innocent, whom God permits to be tempted for the triall of their constancie. Not that he is ignoraunt of the issue▪ but because he would haue it appeare to others, that he crowns vs with his glorie, for our constancie and perseueraunce.

This is clearely set downe by Moses in the xiij. of Deu­teronomie, and by Saint Peter in his second Epistle and se­cond Chapter, and by our Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ in the 24. of Mathew. And though we liue in the latter times, when manie sects and errours doe abound, and ver­tue and truth in many places doth faile: Yet let vs listen what our Lord and Sauiour saith: Whosoeuer beleueth to the ende sh [...]ll be saued. Fourthly and lastly, thy Faith must be quicke and liuely, that is to saye, it must be linked with Loue and Charitie, which is the life of Faith, as the soule is the life of the body. And therefore abuse not thy selfe, as some doe, saieng: I haue Faith, and I shall be saued whatsoeuer chaunce. No, no: assure thy selfe, that if thy Faith be not quickned with Loue and Charitie, it is nothing woorth, and therefore vnable to atchieue true blessedndsse: as S. Paule wel noteth in the first Epistle the xiij. chapter to the Corinths. Euen so, when our Lord in the Gospel attribu­teth saluation vnto Faith, & S Paule iustification: this is to be vnderstood of an holy liuely and Euangelicall Faith, wor­king with Loue and Charitie.

Likewise, our Lord and Sauiour, saith in the Gos­pell, that, Hee which beleeueth, and will be baptised, shall bee saued: this is meant of such a Faith, as Loue quickeneth, and Charitie reuiueth. The holy Scripture in [Page 97] many places expresseth: that None shall be saued, vnlesse he obserue and kéepe the Commaundements of God. Now, none can kéepe the Commaundements without Loue and Charitie, Ergo none can be saued without Loue and Chari­tie. The summe and effect of all is this, that whosoeuer re­nounceth sinne and wickednesse, imbraceth a quicke and liuely Faith, and liueth in Loue and Charitie, he cannot pe­rish: but shall finde in the end true, perfect, and euerlasting Felicitie, in the kingdome of Heauen.

¶ THE DESCRIPTION OF HOPE, and how we ought to hope in al­mightie God. The fourth Chapter.

NOw (sir Knight) know this that Hope is a vertue, whereby both goods spirituall & eter­nal are hoped for. And as Faith is of things not séene, so is Hope also. For Saint Paule saith, Hope that is seene is no Hope, Rom. [...]. be­cause we haue possession of it already. It is common to Faith and Hope, to be of things vnséene: and yet Hope is distinguished from Faith, not onely by name, but also by reason. For by Faith we beleeue as well euill things as good, that is to say, Heauen and Hell. We beléeue that Adulterie is a verie wicked sinne, we beléeue also Charitie is a very good thing: all these things good and bad we beléeue, but we hope onely for good things, and not for bad. Againe, Faith is of things past, present, and to come: For we beleeue the death of Iesus Christ, which is past: we beleeue also that at this present he sits at the right hand of God the Father in Heauen, and we beléeue that Christ shall come to iudge the quicke and the dead.

But vnder correction, I thinke that Hope is of things [Page 98] present, as when I hope that I am in GODS fauour: and of things past, as when I hope my sinnes be forgiuen me: and of things to come, as when I hope to haue eternall life.

This is true that Faith hath an eye generallye vnto that, which is spoken in holy Scripture, beléeuing that all the promises, without exception, which God made, shall bee accomplished, without descending to particular or speciall persons: but Hope applieth vnto hir selfe those same pro­mises, waiting and hoping for the accomplishment of that which God hath promised. And therefore it is requisite for assured saluation, that thou beleeue thou shalt be saued, and but to hope so is sufficient. For Faith of and in it selfe impor­teth an infallible assuraunce and certaintie of things, as when we firmely beléeue all the Articles of our true and Christian Faith, and all things conteined in the holy Scrip­tures, to be more certaine than man is man: but the ho­ping of it is not so requisite. For if we haue a firme affi­aunce in the goodnesse of God touching our saluation, and doubt not a whitte of the remission of our sinnes, it is enough.

Ther be two degrées in Hope, which are two contrary ex­tremities. The one being the most highest is most perfect & infailable assuraunce of eternall blessednesse. The other be­ing the basest and lowest is to despaire of saluation. Be­twéene these two extremities consisteth Hope. But the more y^t a man approcheth to the highest extremitie, which is an infaileable assuraunce of eternall life, and the more he recoileth from the basest and lowest extremitie, which is de­speration the more perfect is he in Hope. It sufficeth the hoping man, that beléeues & loues God, that he haue a firme affiaunce & confidence, that God of his good grace will giue him, whatsoeuer he hath promised vnto his elect, hoping that he is of their number. So it is necessarily requisite, that we haue a perfect and an infaileable certaintie of our sal­uation.

[Page 99]Now, for that in the definition of Hope, it is said, that by hir we looke and hope for the spirituall and eternall good­nesse: it is to be noted, that Hope hath two obiects, the first and the principall, is God himselfe, and the perfect inioying of his presence. The other, is all the necessarie meanes, to come vnto the cleare séeing and inioying of God: and these meanes are, the remission of our sinnes, iustification, the help of Gods grace, Faith vnfained, and charitable deedes, a­gréeablenes vnto God. Now all that we hope for, we ought with praier deuoutly to craue of God, as his Kingdome, the remission of our sinnes, iustification, increase of grace and vertue, déedes of Faith and Charitie.

But concerning goodes temporall: forasmuch as we may vse them well and ill, they may be saide to hinder the saluation of man, rather then to further it. And therfore the good Christian ought not to aske them nor to couet thē exces­siuely: indéed so much as wil necessarily serue him for suste­naunce in this life, he may lawfully aske. And héere by the waye, it is a lesson worthy the learning, namely: that it is necessarie for vs to do good workes, because it hath ple­sed God to inrich vs with goods, which goodes ought well to be employed. Now vnto him properly belongeth the merits of the workes which he worketh in vs. For all our good workes are the gifts of God: howbeit, he doth not denie vs his grace, whereby we consent to doe the good works, which he onely moueth in vs.

And therefore euery one ought to the vttermost that he is able, to do good works, cōsidering y^t they come from God▪ who is the Author of all good woorks, & without whō we are not able to think so much as one good thought, much lesse do a good déed. For otherwise to hope in doing ill to goe to hea­uen, without good workes springing from a firme Faith, is no Hope, but a flat presumption. And therefore thou ough­test to enforce thy selfe to do good works, hoping that thou & thy works may be acceptable vnto God: neuertheles thou must not in any case trust vpon thy merits or good works, [Page 100] but altogether vpon the infinite loue and goodnesse of God, For otherwise thou fallest into that cursse, which the Pro­phet speaketh of,Iere. 17. saieng: Curssed is the man, that trusteth in man: and contrariwise, happie is the man that trusteth in God. We ought alwayes to doe well, to delight in well doing, and to hope in the goodnesse of God, that he wil giue vs that which he hath promised. But this Hope ought to bée firme, and as an Anker constantly to hold thy conscience, that by the floatings of temptations it mooue not.

But some will aske, by what testimonie or witnesse, can the conscience rest assured of remission of sinnes, of Gods adoption, and of heauenly blessednesse, I aunswere. Saint Iohn saith,1. Iohn. 3. There bee three things that giue wit­nesse in earth, that is to say, the Spirite, Water, and Bloud. These thrée testifie vnto the spirite of the beléeuing man, that Christ is the infallible truth, who fulfilleth in the be­léeuing man the whole summe of his promises.

The first witnesse then that assureth man in Hope, is the precious bloud of our Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ, which was shedde for the remission of our sinnes. The se­cond witnesse is the water of Baptisme, by the which also our sinnes are forgiuen. But these two witnesses put not the conscience in full and perfect Hope and assuraunce. And therefore there must bée annexed vnto them a thirde, which thirde is,Rom. 8. The holye Spirite, which beareth wit­nesse with our spirite, that wee are the sonnes and heires of God. Who so hath not this witnesse, he cannot be assu­red of his saluation. The workes of the holye Spirite in man, beareth witnesse of the presence of that Spirite in man.

If thou aske mée what those workes are, I aun­swere thée, that they are these and such lyke that fol­lowe, namelye: Sorrowe for sinnes, Hatred of all things which displeaseth GOD, and are contrarie to his Commaundements, taking pleasure to read and heare [Page 101] Gods word, mourning for thy imperfections, and little Faith, Hope, and Charitie: an affection, desire, intent, and purpose to loue God aboue all thinges, and to doe thy indeauour to fulfill his commandements. But all these things springs not from the corrupt nature of man, vnlesse his minde and hart be moistened with the dew of Gods grace: without the which we féele not in our selues any good affectiōs, nor desire to do good works, which are signs of y^e presēce of y^e holy ghost in vs. Wherefore we ought with great sighings and grones to praie vnto God, and to beseech him most humbly, that it would please him of his vnspeakable pitie to sende vs his holy spirit, which may assure vs of the redemption of our sinnes: to vouchsafe his heauenly adoption, and the enioy­eng of euerlasting blessednesse. And thus much concerning Hope, now let vs speake of Loue, or Charitie.

THE DESCRIPTION OF LOVE OR OF CHA­ritie, and how we ought to loue God and our neighbour. The fift Chapter.

CHaritie is a vertue, by the which God is lo­ued for the loue of himselfe: & our neighbour, for the loue of God, or in God. It is said in the first part of this definition, that Charitie is a vertue. Let vs see how? Certeinly Cha­ritie is the excellentest vertue that is, euen the mother and nurse of all the rest. For he that hath not Charitie, hath nothing in him to obteine euerlasting life. This Charitie is giuen when the holy spirit is giuen. For the holy spirit being resident in the soule, makes vs to loue God for the loue of himselfe, and our neighbour, for the loue of God. To loue God for the loue of himselfe, is to loue him for his owne sake, and because he is God. And that is to be [Page 102] done thrée waies, that is to say, to loue God aboue all things entirely, aboue all things orderly, aboue all thinges preci­ouslye. We will declare these thrée waies of louinge GOD the more plainlye, that euerye one maye knowe how to loue God.

To loue God entirely, is to haue a good will to God; and to reioyce greatly that he is such a one as he is. But for the better vnderstanding héereof, it shall not be amisse to shew what it is to loue. To loue is nothing else, but to wish well to euery body, as when I loue a man, I wish as well to him as to himself. Now there are two manners of loue, one is called a couetous loue, as when a man loues anye thing for his own profits sake, or his perticular honour: and in such sort men loue their horses, their victualles, and all other worldlye necessaries. The other loue is called the loue of friendshippe, or of good will, as when one loues a thinge for the loue of it selfe, without respect of per­ticular honour, or profite: as when I sée a man wise and vertuous, I take pleasure in him, and wishe that the vertues which are in him, maye not onely bée conti­nued but also increased in him, and this doe I béeinge to him well affectionated, and louinge him with de­lyghtes.

There is not in GOD anye good that is not lyke himselfe. For his might, his wisedome, his iustice, his mer­cye, his riches and his goodnesse are heauenlye, as he him­selfe is, who is all wise, all iust, all mercifull, all riche, and almightye. So that we loue God aboue all things en­tirely, when we reioyce and be glad that he is as he is, with­out regarding our proper profite or honour.

Thou oughtest not to loue GOD with a couetous loue, that is to saye, thou must not loue GOD onelye because he giues thée all thinges profitable for thée: for in so dooing thou louest thy selfe better then thou louest God. If thou loue GOD rightlye, he will rewarde thee great­lye, but this loue must be single, and it must be pure, and [Page 103] not depending vppon an other thinge: For who so loueth God for gaine, loueth him, but as his horse in whome hée delyghtes, because he serues his turne. GOD ought to be loued louinglye, without respect of particular profite. But thou maist aske mée a question, Maye I not loue God to this ende, and vnder this condition, that he maye giue me heauen: which is the souereigne good and prin­cipallest thinge that man canne wish for after this lyfe. The Doctours saye (No.) If wée consider well of the thing beloued, which is GOD: For in so dooing thou lo­uest thy selfe better then thou louest GOD. Thou maist come to heauen by this meanes, as namely, by keeping his commaundements, by giuing almes, and by dooing other good déedes, and yet giue God his due and single loue. Nowe these things are not Charitie it selfe, but the works of Charitie. We say then that God ought to bée loued in doing good deedes, and in kéeping his commaundements, but this loue ought to be entyre, without respect of profite or reward.

To loue GOD orderlye aboue all thinges, is to referre thy selfe and all thy goods to GOD: so that all which thou louest, wishest, doest, and leauest vndone, thou oughtest to loue, to wishe, to doe, and leaue vndone, for the loue of GOD and his glorie. Thus referringe all to the honour and glorye of GOD, thou louest GOD aboue all things orderly: and accomplishest as much as in thée lyeth. What is written in Deutronomie and in Saint Mathewe, where it is sayde. Thou shalt loue the Lord thy GOD with all thy heart, with all thy soule, and with all thy strength. For what other thinge is it to loue GOD with all thine hearte, with all thy soule, and with all thy strength, but to referre all things to GOD and to his glorye, all our thoughts, all our wordes, all our works, all our wayes, all our purposes, and all our intents.

[Page 104]To loue God therfore aboue all things orderly, is to referre to God and his glorie our selues, and all that is within & without vs, which we cannot well doe, if our thoughts, if our wordes, if our workes, and our wayes be not good and acceptable vnto God.

To loue God preciously, is to loue him so déerely and so much to esteeme of him, y^t for no cause thou wouldest loose him, nor his loue: but wish rather to loose thy goods, thy lands, thy lims, thy life, and the loue of all the world. This indéede is to loue God louingly, when without respect of profit, we referre to God and his glorie all that we haue, our hearts, our hands, our lips, to praise and magnifie him, and to set foorth the greatnesse of his diuine maiestie, & om­nipotencie. To loue God then for the loue of himselfe, is to loue God because he is good. And he that loueth God in this sort, shall be sure neuer to miscarrie or perish.

Do loue thy neighbour it is required that thou doe it in God, or for the loue of God. Now thou must vnderstand that euerie man is thy neighbour, when either thou to them, or they to thée can shew mercie, or relieue by succour & helpe. So that euerie reasonable creature is thy neighbour, wher­soeuer he dwell in the world. Thus are the Saints in hea­uen thy neighbours, by whose example thou art helped and taught to liue godly, wherefore thou oughtest to loue them and all mankinde, for the loue of God, or in God. Thou oughtest to loue thy neighbour, because he is good, or because he should be good: then thou louest him indéede for the loue of God: euerie man which is a sinner thou oughtest to loue, not because he is a sinner, but because he is a man, for the loue of God.

Thou oughtest to loue in the sinfull man that which he hateth, and to hate that which he loueth. The sinfull man loues sinne, filthynesse, and iniquitie, which thou oughtest to hate: The sinfull man hateth his soule, and the puritie of nature, which thou oughtest to loue. For sinne is against nature, it defileth nature, it oppresseth nature, yea, it quench­eth nature, and he that committeth sinne killeth his owne [Page 105] soule, and corrupteth nature.

Thou oughtest then to loue the soule and the nature of the sinner, but not his sinne. And when thou giuest almes to a sinner, being in néede, thou oughtest not to do it because he is a sinner: but because he is a man of the same na­ture which thou art, some be thy friends, and some thine enimies.

Thy friends thou oughtest loue, in God: least louing them otherwise, thou shouldest offend God.

Thy enimies thou oughtest to loue, for the loue of God, as if he offend thée by word or déede, and doth repent him, and asketh thée forgiuenesse, thou oughtest for the loue of God to forgiue him with all thy heart, & to receiue him into true friendshippe and familiaritie.

Againe, if thy enimie be obstinate, and wil not cease to per­secute and trouble thée: although thou canst not presentlye forgiue him, yet thou oughtest not to hate him, but rather to doe him good, & to be readie alwaies to pardon him, and then chiefly when he shall require it. Yea, thou oughtest to do him what good thou canst in his néede.

By that which we haue spoken already, it appeareth that thou oughtest to loue all men liuing, both good and badde, friendes, and foes, no worse then thy selfe. Our Lorde and Sauiour had an eye to the loue of our neighbour, when he said in the 7. of Mathew, All things that thou wouldest thy neighbour shoulde doe vnto thee, doe thou the lyke to him. Whosoeuer then doth to his neighbour, as he wold his neighbour shuld do to him, loueth his neighbour as himself. But this is to bée vnderstood according to God and reason. For if one offering to pleasure thée, bring thée a Wench to lye with thée, or lende thée a sworde to fight and kill an other, as reason shoulde instruct thée to refuse such offers: so the loue according to GOD shoulde teach thée obedience: and they both ought to be rule of thy lyfe, and the lights to guide thée in darke places.

Thus farre haue wée declared in as much breui­tye [Page 106] as we coulde, howe a man ought to loue GOD and his neighbour. Now intend we to shew the effects and due praises of Loue or Charitie.

THE EFFECTS AND PRAISES of Loue or Charitie. The sixt Chapter.

NO tongue in the worlde canne tell for truth, all the excellencye of the effectes and praises of Charitie. For first of all shee makes men the children of GOD, and heires of heauen, accordinge to that say­eng of Saint Iohn. Beholde what Loue or Charitie the Father hath shewed vnto vs, 1. Iohn. 3. to make vs the children of GOD. Saint Paule also sayth, That all those which bee led by the spirite of GOD, are the children of GOD. Rom. 8. For you haue not receiued the spi­rite of bondage, to feare anye more. But you haue recei­ued the spirite of adoption, by which wee crye Abba Father, and that same spirite, which is the spirite of Loue or Charitie, beareth witnesse with our spirite, That we be the children and heyres of God, and coaheires with Christ. Canne wée desire a thing more excellent, then to be the children of GOD, and heyres of heauen? What dig­nitie is that to boast off? Such as haue a féelinge of the loue of GOD in their heartes, haue bolde-nesse and courage inough, though the worlde contemne them. For this is certeine, that they whome the worlde hateth, are not the children of the worlde, but the children of GOD: as contrarywise, such as the worlde loueth, they indéede are the children of the worlde, and consequently the children of the Diuell.

Secondlye, Charitie worketh the cause in vs that GOD dwelleth in vs. Who dwelleth in Charitye, [Page 107] sayth Saint Iohn, dwelleth in GOD, 1. Iohn. [...]. and GOD in him. Our Lorde lykewise sayth, If anye man loue me he will keepe my commaundements, Iohn. 14 and my Father will loue him, and wee will come and dwell with him. Canne we de­sire a more rich, a more bountifull, or a more lyberall hoste then he? Is it lyke that so louing an hoste will suffer the soule to want? Will he aske monie for his expenses, No, hée commeth not to dwell with vs, to consume that wee haue, but to encrease our riches, and to make our store grea­ter.

Thirdly, Charitie maketh our goods, be they little, or bée they much, acceptable vnto God, it maketh a man contemne the world, it maketh a man to reioyce in temptations, af­flictions, and tribulations. When Charitie enters into the soule, she comes accompanied with all other good­nesse: yea, shée knittes vs to GOD, and vniteth vs with him. Loue or Charitie makes men of one minde, and one will. Loue or Charitie makes men reforme their manners, and to drawe néere vnto God. Loue or Charitie maketh men consider of things present and visible, as if they were not. Loue maketh a pure and cleane heart, which may contem­plate and beholde heauenly thinges. By Loue the goods of this worlde are well ordered, and by Loue ▪ the goods of this world are contemned, and by Loue the secretes of God are reuealed. Saint Iohn saith, That God is Charitie, wherby no doubt, he meaneth the Father, the sonne, and the holy Ghost, the three persons in trinitie, God the father is Charitie, God the sonne is Charitie, and God the holy Ghost is Charitie. This Loue or Charitie requireth in the same such likely things, namely, Loue and Charitie, by the which, as by some spiritual affinity, thou art ioyned vnto God, which Loue also boldly commeth vnto God, & familiarly speaketh with him, without any doubt or feare.

He that loueth not shall loose his lyfe: but he that loueth, alwayes lyfteth his eyes to GOD, whome he loueth, whom he desireth, on whome he museth, in [Page 108] whome he is refreshed, and by whome he is preserued, such a louing, deuoute, and relygious soule, doth so singe, so saye, so reade, so dispose all his businesse, and so circum­spectly foreseeth all things, as if GOD were euer present with him, as doubtlesse in spirite he is. The man in whose soule the loue of GOD is lodged, so prayeth, as if God were personallye present with him.

The loue of (Charitie) awaketh y^e soule, when she is a sléepe, it puts him in minde of his saluation, it softeneth and moy­steneth the heart, Loue or Charitie setteth the colde heart on fire, Loue maketh the froward soule gentle. Loue chaseth awaye sinne, Loue kepeth the affections of fleshe and, bloude vnder, Loue amendeth lewde mennes manners, Loue reneweth the spirite, Loue brideleth the light motions of wanton youth, all this worketh Loue or Chari­tie where she is present.

Contrarywise, where Loue or Charitie is absent, there the soule doth languysh and waxeth colde: euen as a Chaldron of water doth, when the fire is taken from vnder it, and raked abroade. Charitie is the onely thinge whereby the soule boldlye approcheth vnto GOD: con­stantlye cleaueth vnto him, famyliarlye speaketh with him, and in all affayres asketh counsell of him.

The Soule that loueth GOD, cannot but thinke and talke of GOD, insomuch that he hateth all vngod­lye thinges. Who so will knowe GOD, must loue GOD, the more that one loues God the more he growes in the knowledge of God. To Read, to write, and to Study of God, yéeldeth no true knowledge of God without Loue. In vaine do we read, in vaine doe we talke, in vaine doe we preach, in vaine doe we praye to GOD, if we doe not loue God.

The loue of God engendereth the loue of thine owne soule, and maketh it attentiue alwaies to God. God loueth to be beloued againe: and when he loueth, he requireth nothing but loue: happie therefore is he that loueth God.

[Page 109]The soule which loueth God, reiecteth all his affections, being attentiuely giuen to his loue. The soule that loueth, hath no feare: the soule that loueth not, is euer in feare. The soule that loueth, is caried by promises and drawen by desires vnto heauen: the soule that hath in it the presence of Gods loue, is tickeled with ioye, & with rauishings lea­peth vp to heauen, hauing by contemplation exceeding great ioyfulnesse. Loue bréedes familiaritie with God, familiari­tie bréedes boldnesse with God, boldnesse bréedes the taste of God, and taste bréedeth an hunger after God. If I shoulde declare all the excellencie of Loue or Charitie, the time wold faile me: and mine abilitie in that behalfe would not suf­fice. But let this stand for a conclusion, that the soule which is touched with the loue of God, cannot desire any thing con­trarie to God: but euer after it hath receiued any tast of sin, it crieth out and saith with the Prophet, O Lord God, like as the Hart desireth the fountaines of water: Psa. 41. euen so long I after thee. Well then sir Knight, lift vp thy soule, and re­member the great Loue and Charitie of God, and his ma­nifolde benefites bestowed vpon thée, that by them thy hart being inlightened, thou maist increase and goe forward daye by day, in doing good workes, to the glorifieng of God, who delighteth in the same, according as it is saide: Let your light so shine before men, that they seeing your good workes, may glorifie God in Heauen. Thus much touch­ing these thrée spirituall Uertues: now come we to the foure morall.

¶THE DESCRIPTION OF THE FOVRE Morall Vertues, Prudence, Iustice, Forti­tude and Temperance. The vij. Chapter.

[Page 110] BY these foure Morall vertues man liueth well and orderly in this mortall life. Saint Hierome saith, that the Christian man, by these iiij. liueth wel in this mortalitie, & by them after death, commeth to euerlasting life. Prudence knoweth the good we should doe, and the euill we should leaue. Iustice doth good. Tem­perance leaueth the euill. Fortitude is constant, without loosing courage in aduersitie, or waxing proud in prosperitie. Prudence disposeth man, and teacheth him how to approch vnto God, Fortitude and Temperance how to gouerne him­selfe, Iustice how to vse his neighbour. These are the foure things which Satan shooteth at, to destroye the soule. By Prudence, which is the rule of right reason, we gouerne our selues wisely, we order our affaires discréetly, doing nothing but right and reason.

In Prudence consisteth reason, knowledge, foresight, apt­nesse to teach and giue good counsell. A prudent man know­eth afore hande the ende of his counsell. Plato saith, that Prudence is the Duchesse of all morall vertues, showing vs how we should vnderstand and vse the rest. For as Faith informeth vs, and telleth vs what we should hope after, and what we ought to loue: euen so Prudence instructeth & tea­cheth vs, how we should vse Iustice, Fortitude, and Tempe­rance. Aristotle saith, that it is vnpossible but a prudent man should be good. If he meane Morall goodnesse, it is most true: for a wise man doth nothing but that which is law­full. But yet without Loue or Charitie, Prudence is a ver­tue no more meritorious then Faith without Loue and Cha­ritie. But if the prudent man loue God with all his hart, it is vnpossible but he shuld do good, and consequently be good.

Iustice is a vertue vsed in two sorts, sometimes it is a general vertue, & comprehends in hir selfe all vertue: as the man that liueth well & iustly, is therefore called, good, vertu­ous and iust. Otherwise it is vnderstood a perticular ver­tue, called Iustice distributiue, yéelding to euerye one that which vnto him belongeth. This vertue Iustice distributiue [Page 111] is conuenient for all men, and principally for Emperours, Kings, Princes, & such as haue the administration and go­uernment of Common-wealths: to the ende that they may yeeld to euery one their right, defending y^e innocent, & puni­shing the offender: honoring y^e good, & abasing the euill: doing Iustice & right according to equitie, as well to little as great & to poore as rich. Many haue Iustice painted in their houses, & yet haue iniurie & wrongful dea [...]g lodged in their harts. Many a one haue Christ in their mouth, but y^e diuel in their mind. To conclude therfore, he y^t wil be acceptable to god, he must be iust in word, vpright in déed, & vndefiled in thought.

Fortitude is a vertue, vnto the which belongs a magni­ficent courage, not fearing any thing but vnlawfull actions. He y^t hath this vertue, keepes himselfe constant in aduersi­tie, & waxeth not proud in prosperitie. Fortitude giues a man magnanimitie, constancie, hope, assurance, sufferaunce, pati­ence & perseuerance. With this vertue y^e Martirs of all de­grées & ages were indued, grounded vpon a firme. Faith, cō ­tēning y^e world, & setting light by y^e threatnings & tormēts of tyrants, imbracing death, rather thē to deny Christ. Gods Prophets were armed with Fortitude, who without flatte­rie reprehended y^e kings of Israel & Iuda, of their sins & false worship of God, & feared not their furies. The Apostles of Iesus Christ, were armed with Fortitude, who feared not to controll y^e wisdome of y^e wise, & vanquish such as wer in high places, y^t they might with contented mindes carie y^e yoke of Christ. This did they not by their bodely strength nor yet w^t mans power or warlike weapons, but with diuine doctrine: not desiring to kill any one, but to die themselues. It is a great worlds wonder, y^t so few poore simple soules, vnarmed▪ vnlearned, & hauing no humaine pollice, shuld vanquish the wisdome of the world, confound earthly pollicie & strength, and subdue Kings, and bring them in obedience to the faith and knowledge of Christ: reuoking the people from false religion and adoration of Diuells▪ who tyrannously reigned and bare sway, certaine the [...] of yeares in the world.

With this vertue of Fortitude, Kings and mightie men [Page 112] ought to be armed, not doubting any danger for y^e defence of the faith of I [...]sus Christ: but being of one & the same minde with the holy Martirs of God. With this Vertue ought Preachers and Teachers to be armed, worthely defending the word of God, against all Heretickes and enimies of the same, not doubting the feare or the threatnings of persecu­tors whatsouer. But you must vnderstand, that Fortitude is not a dealer in the committing of vnlawfull déedes: as to beate, hurt, or kill thy brother, vnlesse it be iustly done in thine owne defence, or for thy Countries cause: otherwise it is meere mallice and madnesse of minde. Moreouer such as extraordinarily and desperately dispatch themselues, as wretches weary of life, they doe it not by fortitude, but by the temptation of the Diuell, who is permitted by Gods sufferaunce, to tempt some, euen to the making away of themselues. Such people are weake hearted and not valy­ant: for valyantnesse, which is Fortitude, is not named no­table, vnlesse it be in lawfull actions and déeds, as in the de­fence of thine owne person, thy Prince, thy Countrie, or the faith of Iesus Christ, for the which to suffer death, is ex­cellent Fortitude.

Temperance (saith Saint Austen) is an affection to re­fraine the appetite, whervnto a man is excessiuely inclined. Temperance hath rule and dominion ouer pleasures and delights, refusing to meddle in any thing, which can not be done without offending God: and not falling in anye ex­cesse whatsoeuer, wherein a man may passe the rule of rea­son. To liue in Temperance, is to order and dispose eue­rie thing, according to the right vse whereto it was ap­pointed.

These foure vertues haue foure vices cleane contrarie vnto them, by the which vices, the vertues are corrupted and destroyed. Prudence by Folly, Iustice by Couetous­nesse, Fortitude by Pride, & Temperance by Incontinence, defaced. These foure vices are signified by y^e foure plagues which consumed and spoiled the goods of Iob, namely: The Sabees, the Chaldees, the force of fire, and the violence of a [Page 113] vehement winde. The Sabees of Folly made hauocke of Pru­dence Oxen. The Chaldees of Pride led away the Camils of Fortitude. The fire of Lechery, made wast of Tempe­raunce shéepe. And the boysterous winde of Couetousnesse, ouerthrew the houses or the precepts of Iustice. These foure vertues likewise are deuoured of their aduersarie vices, ac­cording as the Prophet Ioel complaineth against the wicked Iewes,Ioel. 1. vnder foure notable things deciphering the foure vi­ces opposite & against y^e foure vertues before named. These foure things are the Caterpiller, the Grashopper, the Lo­cust, and the Blasting: all which foure things being bent to wastfulnesse, lefte nothing vnspoyled, whiles they put in vse the force of their inclination. By the Caterpiller is ment vaine and foolish bragging, which destroieth the vertue of Prudence. By the Grashopper is meant the vice of Pride, which destroieth the vertue of Fortitude. By the Lo­cust is meant the vice of Couetousnesse, which destroieth the vertue of Iustice. And by Blasting is meant the vice of Lecherie, which destroieth the vertue of Temperance: so that Foolish bragging destroieth the vertue of Wisedome. Pride corrupteth the estate of Strength. Auarice deuoures the vertue of Iustice. Lecherie spoyleth the title of Tempe­rance.

Now therefore sir Knight, I wish thée to refraine from these insatiable vices, least thou loose the enioying of these foure notable Moral vertues. Thou knowest what comfort, and good companie thou haddest in the Pallaice of Vertue: there thou sawest God, Faith, Hope, Charitie, Prudence, Iustice, Fortitude, Temperance, and all the goodnes which might come to the resonable soule in this present life: as for the swéetnesse, the ioye, the pleasure, con­solation, & goodnes, which these vertues do bring them vnto, which hath imbra­ced & loued them, none know­eth, but who hath had experience.

¶ HOVV FAITH FROM THE TOP OF HER Tower, showeth vnto the Knight the Citie of Heauen. The viij. Chapter.

AFter good Vnderstanding had deliuered out these good wordes, I was rauished in my minde, I felte not my selfe, I loste my taste, I forced neither for meate nor drink, and most of all I meruailed that night ap­proched not: because many houres were consumed. Being in that maze, Vertue tolde me that in hir Pallaice neuer came night, and that darknesse had nothing to doe where she dwelt. Then Memory put me in minde what Gods grace tolde me by the way: saieng that by the workes of Faith, which are the fruits of the same I might perceiue and sée the Citie of Heauen, wherein is compre­hended the true and blessed Felicitie. Then Faith led me to hir Tower, and all the other vertues kept vs company. For Faith properly is not without Hope, nor Hope without Charitie, and therfore they must go altogether. And though these vertues haue distinct and seuerall properties: yet they ioyne hands and are neuer asunder. S. Hierome saith that Abraham was furnished with Faith, Iob with Fortitude and Patience, Dauid with Humilitie, and so consequently of other holy men recorded in Scripture.

Then Faith from hir high Tower, showed mée a high hill, whereon was builded a meruailous sumptuous Citie, and she tolde me it was the Citie of Heauen, wherein is comprehended true blessednesse, and perfect felicitie. In that Citie I sawe neuer a Temple, which made me meruaile, vntill that Faith told me, that the Lord God almightie was the Temple of that Citie. There needes no shining of Sun, nor brightnes of Moone, nor glittering of stars, to giue them light, for the almightie God is their true light himselfe. [Page 115] None enters into this Citie, but such as are written in the booke of life. Furthermore Faith tolde me that there was no discord, no aduersitie, no sinne, no reproch, no iniquitie, no feare, no sorrow, no shame, no tumult, no darknes, no paine, no mistrust, no violence, no vnquietnes, no ill, no grudging, finally, nothing that fauoured of mortalitie: but there was concord, prosperitie, perfection, vnitie, loue, gladnesse, quiet­nesse, staiednesse, charitie, sure rest, perpetuall felicitie, and euerlasting ioye in God, with eternall life and happinesse.

There was mirth without sadnesse, rest without labor, gaine without losse, health without paine, abundance with­out want, life without death, cleannesse without corrupti­on, happinesse without hinderaunce. In this Citie God is seene face to face, there is the endlesse lyght shining, the Saints alwaies singing, blessed soules reioycing and euer beholding God, yet still coueting to sée him without dulnesse of desire. The Citizens of this Citie of heauen are coheires of the eternall Deitie, the Father, Sonne and holy Ghost. They are made incorruptible and immortall, according to the promise of our Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ, saieng. Father those that thou hast giuen me, I will that they bee with me where I am, that they may see my brightnesse. Iohn. 17.

What can I say more, in this Citie is one King, with­out death, and without chaunge: without beginning and without ending. In this Citie there is no night, there is no limitation or terme of time, but continuall day most bright­ly shining. For in this Citie dwelleth the Father of lights, euen God himselfe, whose brightnesse no darknes can ouer­shadow. The Citizens of this Citie are most blessed and for­tunate: For they are pertakers of vnspeakable grace, of vn­measurable happinesse, of endlesse ioye, & of such perfection as therevnto there can be added no more. Unto this place shall the iust be aduaunced: as for the wicked, their portion is in the Lake boy­ling with fire and brimstone. But to proceede in our purpose.

¶THE DESIRE THAT THE KNIGHT had to come to heauen, and how Gods grace brought Perseuerance. The ix. Chapter.

HAuing séene from the Tower of Faith, the Citie of heauen, and heard (by hir) the man­ner of it, I was rauished of my wit, & estée­med nothing at all of the world. For I felt not my selfe, my thought I was walking in Heauen. Héerevpon I desired Faith, that I might remaine still in hir Tower, the which willingly she graunted me, insomuch that I was neuer wearie out of hir Tower window to behold heauen: yea, the more I behelde it, the more beautifull it séemed. In the end, I was loath to liue in this world, & desired death, that I might the sooner sée the citie of Heauen, & haue the sight and inioying of Christ my Redéemer. Then kneeling by my selfe all alone, I made this praier saieng.

O how happy is the soule, that is out of this earthly pri­son, & resteth in heauen most ioifully, seeing his Sauior face to face. That soule is without feare & afflictiō. O how hap­py is the soule, which is in the company of Angels, & holy Saints, singing praises vnto the highest: Such a soule surely is ladē with abūdance of ioy. O happy societie of citizens, O happy company of Saints, which lamented in their mor­tall life, but now raigne with God immortally, O sweet Ie­sus, let me come to thy plesant Citie, wher thy Citizens see thee daily, to their great delight. O let me come ther wher nothing is troublesome to heare or vnderstand: what melo­dy heare they without ending? And, how happy wer I, if I might heare the songs, or be admitted to sing a song of Da­uid in thy holy hil of Sion. O that I being the least of thy seruants, may by thy grace, put off my fleshly burden, and come to thy happy Citie, to accompany the holy & happy assembly of Saints, to see the glory of my Creator, & to behold his amiable Maiestie.

[Page 107] That I may be made meet for this so great a blessing, grant I beseech thee O gratious God, that I neuer loke backe vp­pon this shadowe or valley of teares, that I remember not the false plesures of this wicked worlde, that I esteeme not this corruptible & euil lyfe. O how can we (here) be happie where the Diuell alwayes assalts vs? Where the world flat­ters vs? Where the soule is blinded? And where al men sin? After which greate euils death doth followe, as the verie end of al vaine pleasures, & then they are esteemed as if they had neuer ben. What recompēce may be made vnto thee (O GOD) which giuest vs consolation in the middest of all our extremities, (by the wonderfull visitation of thy diuine grace)? Beholde me miserable wretch, filled with sadnesse, wherein I consider my sinnes when I feare thy iudgement, when I thinke on the houre of death, when I remember the paines of hell, when I am ignorant what punishment I de­serue, when I knowe not where nor in what estate I shall end my dayes. In all these things and many other I appeale to thy gratious goodnesse, knowing that thou art readye to giue me consolation against all these sorrowes. Thou liftest vp my soule (ful of anguish) aboue all mountaines, thou ma­kest me receiue thy great Loue, Charitie, & goodnes, by the which thou recreatest my heauie spirit, and reioysest my sad heart, in reuealing vnto me thy heauenly delights.

This praier ended, I vtterly forgat all my miseries, and rested my soule vpon the anchor of Hope. Then as I was kneeling, Gods grace appered vnto me, accompanied with an other Lady which I had not séene before. And after I had giuen her thanks for all her benefits, she deliuered mée this Lady named Perseueraunce, to continue with me, charging me to kéepe her euer with me, if I meant to be a Citizen of heauen. For (sayd she) all other vertues without her are as nothing, to winne heauen. For it is written,Mat. 24. Who so perse­uers vnto the end shall be saued. And therefore if thou wilt be saued, thou must continue. Hereof we haue manye ex­amples in the holye Scripture, but I will touch twaine and no more.

[Page 118]When Saule was first created King of Israel, hée was as lowly and as humble, as the childe of one yeare old: but hée continued not aboue two yeares in this his goodnesse. For after he had put Perseueraunce awaye, he became euill, and grewe to be a cruell tyrant: insomuch that he slewe many of the Lordes Priestes, and persecuted good Dauid. But what was his ende? He was vanquished of his enimies, and béeing giuen ouer of God, he killed himselfe vppon the mount Gelboë. Againe touching the same matter, Iudas at the first when God made him an Apostle, was good and duetifull, but when he had put Perseueraunce away, he be­came a théefe, & by couetousnesse, hée betraied and solde his Maister Christ. But what was his ende? He was forsaken of God, became a reprobate, fell into desperation, and with an accusing conscience sore charginge him with the hai­nousnesse of his offence, with a halter he hanged himselfe.

When I hearde Perseueraune saye so, for feare least the lyke should befall to me, I desired my counsailour Good vnderstanding, to shew me the meanes howe I might kéepe Perseueraunce alwayes with me, that in so doing, I might not bée depriued of the glorious Citie of Heauen. To which request of mine the good Hermit Vnderstanding, tendering the safetie of my soule: and hauing a carefull regarde to all mine endeauours, did yeeld, and spake to me in manner and forme following.

GOOD VNDERSTANDING SHEVVETH the Knight how to keepe Perse­ueraunce alwaies with him. The tenth Chapter.

MY sonne, the last point of thy soules health, (quoth Good vnderstāding,) is to learne & know how to tarrie wher thou art now, without going back, which if thou desire, then must Perseuerāce neuer leaue thée, for if she forsake thée once, [Page 119] then must thou néeds loose the pleasure of lady Vertues pal­laice, wherin thou art now. From whence if thou go backe, thou shalt be sure to loose her and the ioyes of heauen. Thou must therfore remaine constant in thy good minde, without wauering, the which to do, thou must by deuout & continual praier, faithfully craue helpe of Gods grace, without y^e which no man can continue in goodnes. And to accomplish all this, thou must remember thrée things: the first is, thy life past: the second, thy life present, & the third thy life to come. These thrée considerations will encourage thée to stay where thou art, and as it were with a bridle will kéepe thee from re­coiling.

1 Think what thou hast done & séene before time, in follow­ing Folly, how thou liuedst vaine & worldling like, yéelding to euery vaine concupiscence & lust, wherby thou diddest fall into the filth of sin, diddest indaunger both thy body and thy soule, & hadst thy conscience accusing thée. Oh where haddest thou ben, if Gods grace had not taken compassion vpon thée? Where be the worldlinges that wold not be sorrie for their sinnes? Wher are they become? Are they not condempned to euerlasting torments in hell fire? Oh thinke then that sinne doth greatly offende God: thinke what punishment God hath ordeined for sinne, which makes man an enimye to God, and a friende to the diuel: thinke that sinne hath de­priued thee of thy first innocencie and vertue, making thee meate for hell-hounds, amongest whome thou haddest bene numbred and counted, if God of his grace had not pittied thée.

2 Thinke that at this present time thou art in Gods fauour, by the meanes of his grace, who hath made thee a childe of God, and an heire of heauen by hope, so that now thy conscience is quiet. Thinke what good consolations thou hast receiued by deuout praieng: thinke what spiri­tual instructions Gods grace hath giuen to thee: think all the pleasures of the world are mingled with sorows: think that thou shalt haue no hurt, if thou remaine where thou art, for thou art in Gods kéepinge: thinke that this worlde [Page 120] shall passe away with all the pompes and pleasures of the same: thinke that thy present state is the high-waie to hea­uen, and so shalt thou kéepe Perseueraunce.

3 Thirdly thinke that the iust iudgement of God is to come: which is to the good to giue Heauen, and to the euill Hell. Thinke thou must dye, and that at thy death thou shalt not receiue so good consolation as thou hast had of Ver­tue and Gods grace, in whose wholsome counsailes and ad­monishments thou oughtest to perseuer to the end. Thinke that at thy death thou must leaue behinde thée, wife, children, goods, and monie. Whether thou doe good or euill, thinke that thou must goe to a region vnknowne, and to a place where thou hast neuer bene: and if thou be founde to haue dyed in sinne, without repentaunce, the Diuells will attend to take thy cursed bodie, and thy dampned soule, and will carrie both into the dungeon of darknesse, there to féele eternall torments. But if thou be found with Perseuerance, in the Pallaice of Vertue, millions of Angelles will goe be­fore thée, and with greate ioye will bringe thée to Hea­uen.

O thinke vpon the iust iudgement of God to come, when euery one shal be iudged according to his déeds. For God fa­uoureth neither king nor kaiser, prince, nor people, high nor lowe, rich, nor poore, without respect of person, he wil crown the good, and condempne the euill, at that day of dome, when we must appeare personally without excuse or exception be­fore him. Then euery one must be his own atturney, when the iust Iudge at that day wil shew himselfe terrible to the peruerse, which haue followed Voluptuousnesse, and haue not heartely repented, nor retyred from the filthy puddle of their sins. But will be gentle, iust, & good, vnto those y^t haue bene sorrie for their offences. O thinke what torments the vnrepentant shal suffer both in bodie and soule, perpetual­ly: wheras all such as haue perseuered in goodnesse to y^e end, shall receiue ioye, and the fulnesse of God and of heauen. In [...]uch sort to perseuer in goodnes to the end, do thine vtter indeauour, & thou shalt sée that God will be readie with his [Page 121] grace to blesse and to arme with constancie in thy Christi­an purpose.

A PROTESTATION VVHICH GOOD VNDER­standing taught the Knight to make euery day for the a­uoiding of temptations, & how he ought to hūble him­selfe before God, and what he should aske in his praier. The xj. Chapter.

MY sonne alwayes I wish thée to kéepe Per­seuerance with thée, by whome thou maist auoide temptations, which woulde induce thée to sinne, & force thée to forsake the true Faith, and also to transgresse the holy com­maundementes of almightie God. This to auoide, I wish thée eueryday to repeate the promises which thou hast made to God in thy Baptisme, which follow thus in effect.

O most high, most excellent, and most holye Trinitie, Father, Sonne, and holy Ghost, I protest that I will liue and dye in the true Catholike and Apostolike Faith: and will keepe thy Holy commaundements, which heretofore I haue transgressed. Wherefore I am sorye and doe heartelye re­pent mee for the breach of them, and in token whereof I make my confession, saieng.

I Beleeue in God the Father almightie, maker of heuen & earth. And in Iesus Christ his only sonne our Lord. Which was conceaued by the holy Ghost. Borne of the virgin Ma­rie. Suffred vnder Ponce Pilate. Was crucified, dead & buri­ed. He descended into hell, the third day he rose againe frō the dead. He ascended into heauen, and sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father almightie. From thēce he shal come to iudge the quick & the dead. I beleeue in the holy Ghost. The holy Catholike Church. The communion of Saints. The forgiuenesse of sinnes. The resurrection of the body. And the life euerlasting, Amen.

Then say, Lord God giue me grace most heartely I beseech thee, without doubting, to confesse and beleeue all the Ar­ticles of this my Christian Faith, and in the fame to perse­uer [Page 122] to the ende. And so rehearse the tenne Commaunde­ments of almightie God, which are these.

THe same which God spake in the xx. chap. of Exodus, saieng: I am the Lord thy God which haue brought thee out of the land of Aegipt, out of the house of bondage.

1 Thou shalt haue none other Gods but me.

2 Thou shalt not make to thy selfe any grauē Image, nor the liknesse of any thing that is in heauen aboue, nor in the earth beneath, nor in the water vnder the earth. Thou shalt not bow downe to them, nor worship them. For I the Lord thy God, am a ielous God, & visit the sins of the fathers v­pon the children, vnto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me, and shew mercie vnto thousands in thē that loue me and keepe my commaundements.

3 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vaine, for the Lord will not hold him guiltlesse that taketh his name in vaine.

4 Remember that thou keepe holy the Saboth day. Sixe daies shalt thou labour, & do all that thou hast to do. But the seauenth day is the saboth of the Lord thy God. In it thou shalt doe no manner of worke, thou & thy sonne, & thy daughter, thy man-seruāt, & thy maid-seruant, thy cat­tell, & thy stranger that is within thy gates. For in sixe daies the Lord made heauen & earth, the sea, & all that in them is, & rested the seuenth day, wherfore the Lord blessed the seauenth day and hallowed it.

5 Honour thy father and thy mother that thy daies may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giueth thee.

6 Thou shalt doe no murther.

7 Thou shalt not commit adultrie.

8 Thou shalt not steale.

9 Thou shalt not beare false witnes against thy neighbour.

10 Thou shalt not couet thy neighbours house. Thou shalt not couet thy neighbours wife, nor his seruant, nor his maid, nor his Oxe, nor his Asse, nor any thing that is his.

Then considering the tenour of that which thou hast said, craue grace at Gods handes to walke after his will, [Page 123] vsing the same praier which Christ taught thee, and saieng.

OVr Father which art in heauen, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdome come. Thy will be done in earth as it is in heauen. Giue vs this daie our dayly bread. And forgiue vs our trespasses, as we forgiue thē that trespasse against vs. And lead vs not into temptation. But deliuer vs from euil.

Besides all this, thou must also most heartely humble thy selfe before God, acknowledging thy selfe a sinner, and that thou canst do nothing y^t is righteous: but if ther be any good­nesse in thée, either of nature or of Gods grace, thou must freely confesse that all comes from aboue. Repute not thy selfe better then another, but rather the least of all. If anie despise thee, mocke thee, or iniure thée, suffer it not onely pa­ciently, but also willingly & gladly, euen for the loue of God. For the scaling ladder of heauen is humilitie, & a full deni­eng of thy selfe in al worldly causes. Thinke not wel of thy selfe for anie thing that thou doest, hast done, or maist do: but if thou hast anie goodnes in thy body, or in thy soule, be not ashamed to confesse that it is not thine, because it comes not from thée but of God: from him whom indéede it procéeds.

If thou humble not thy selfe, there is no hope of thy soules helth. For to this effect our Lord said,Mat. 18. If you be not cōuerted & made as little children, you shal not enter into the king­dome of heauen. And S. Barnard saith, Who so wil be hūble must be content to be despised of the world, he desireth not to be renowmed: for this is no point of humilitie. Commit thy selfe therefore to God, and put thy will to his: taking at his hands all aduersities paciently, all tribulati­ons, all afflictions, all diseases, all persecutions, yea, & death it selfe, not onely contentedly, but also willingly: acknow­ledging that God sendes nothing to the faithfull, but good­nesse, and all for their soules health. Wherefore thou must often pray to God & say. Lorde God, giue mee whatsoeuer thou wilt, do with me alwaies what thou wilt. And when at any time thou findest thy selfe as it were left of God, voide of deuotion, or destitute of consolation, whether it be in­wardlye or outwardlye, bee not discouraged for it, [Page 124] neither thinke that God hath forgotten thée, but heartelye humble thy selfe before God, accounting thée vnworthy of consolation, and putting all thy confidence in God, as in one that knowes how to saue his elect. If thou receiue any bles­sing inwardly, as wisdome, or anie other gift, exalt not thy selfe in pride, neither discommend others y^t haue not receiued of God such grace: but vse that which thou hast to Gods glo­rie. Againe, if thou see thy neighbours fall, take héed thou hate him not, iudge him not, & condemne him not, but think that God permits thée to sée his offence for thy profit. Ima­gine thou wast neuer touched with y^e crime: wel, it is much, but yet thou hast bene culpable in some other as bad, or els worse: vpon this examinatin reforme thy selfe, suppose thou art in no fault, thou must not therfore estéeme thy self better thē he y^t is in fault, knowing thou art of such a nature as he is, & made of y^e same stuffe y^t he is, & therfore notwithstāding thy supposition, a sinner, & offender, as well as he: so y^t both néed amending. Be thou sure, that if God had prouided no better for thée then thy selfe deserued, thou hadst committed the like offence, or els greater: & thanke God that he hath kept thée so, & pray for him y^t doth amisse, & is not yet cōuerted Whē thou séest a sinner openly led to his last end to lose his life by law, know y^t thou stādest a sinner before god as wel as he, although before the world thou be estéemed better. The life and death of our Lord & sauiour Iesus Christ, is a glasse for all faithfull Christians to looke in. Wherefore with a good deuotion lead thou an holye life by his example, take paines to follow his humilitie, his sobrietie, his chastitie, his goondnesse, his charitie, his patience, his compassion, and all his other vertues. Ther is no schoole wherein a Christi­an maye so well learne to liue well, as in the contemplati­on of Christs life & conuersation: thou must oftentimes think on thy last end, as death, iudgement, hell, & heauen: perseuer in praier & in goodnes to the death, so thou shalt please God, & not be loth to dye. Remember the end (saith y^e wise) & thou shalt neuer sin: thou must often pray deuoutly to God, & whē thou wilt so do,Eccle. 7 thou must draw thy selfe from all affaires. [Page 125] For praier is a lifting vp of the hart to God, and a priuate speach or communication of the soule with God, If it be so, were there any reason that a man shuld withdraw his cogi­tations from God, or rather all outward busines put apart, with all reuerence to submit thy soule before him. All this notwithstanding it is not forbiddē in all our affairs to pray & sing psalmes to Gods glorie, and oftentimes with teares to saie the Lordes praier, or anie other praier to that effect. And heere by the way thou must vnderstand, that the long­est praier is not most profitablest, because of the multitude of cogitations & thoughts rising in the minde. Besides that, they must be deuout, for the praiers which are done with de­uotion, with loue & humilitie of the hart, doth profit most, as for all other praiers, they are vaine and to no purpose.

If thou pronounce but three words as the Publican did, saieng: God be mercifull to me a sinner:Luc. 18. Mat. 17 or as the Chana­nite said, O sonne of Dauid, haue mercie vpon me, it is enough. Againe, be not curious of thy tongue, or fine in speaking: it sufficeth, that thy heart speaks within thee, and thy tongue though but bleatingly, if vnfainedly, it is well: as we read of Moses and Anne Samuels mother.Ezo. 1. 1. Kin. 1. True it is and no lesse fitte, that both tongue and heart shoulde praise God, and therefore be circumspect in thy praiers, lest thou be reproued as our Lord reproued some saieng, You knowe not what you aske. In the first parte of thy Prayer,Mat. 20 thou askest Gods Kingdome, (according to Gods doctrine) and also his Iustice. Then thou askest in thy prayer, that God be knowen, honoured, & glorified of all:Mat. 5. that his wil be done in all, & accomplished in all, as well of men in Earth, as of Angells in Heauen. Thou askest increase of Faith, Hope and Charitie, remission of sinnes, the grace of God and his glorie.

Worldly goods superfluously thou oughtest not to aske, but necessarily to liue, and with a measure for thy bodely health, and for the succour of the néedie. If thou be sicke, poore, or in aduersitie, thou maist aske health, riches or pro­speritie: so it be done to Gods glorie. But if thine afflicti­ons [Page 126] doe more aduaunce Gods glory, then thy prosperitie doeth, yéelding thy will to GODS will, thou ough­test to aske patience, and saie with a meeke heart, Lord thy will bee done and not mine. Euermore haue the feare of GOD before thine eyes, iudgeing and con­dempning thy selfe for thy sinne, and thou shalt not be iud­ged nor condempned of God. Let no sinne so raigne in thée, as to depriue thee of Gods grace, and to tumble thée to eter­nall death. Better it is to dye in trouble without sinne, then to liue in prosperitie in sinne, and better it is to loose thy life for Gods cause, then to liue at ease, and loose God and thy life too.

If thy senses be inclined to sinne, be not dismaid: for ther is a God, to whom if thou pray, will, by the power of his grace, suppresse that inclination. Wherefore take courage when thou art tempted, aske for helpe at God, saieng: O God make speede to saue me, O Lord make hast to helpe me: Lord God leaue me not but be my help, O thou Lord God of my health. Doe what thou canst to resist the Di­uell, and he shall goe from thée: approch to God by Faith, and he will drawe néere vnto vs by his spirite. If the Di­uell assault thée, defie him: and make thy mone to our Sa­uiour (saieng) Lord helpe me, and he will helpe thee. Doe thou thine indeuour, and assure thy selfe, that God wil make thée strong, he will aide thée, he will ease thée, and in the end will set thee free from all vexations, placing thée in the hea­uen of heauens, the portion and inheritaunce of his ser­uaunts. To this God, and to Iesus Christ, with the holy Ghost, be all glorie, honour and praise, worlds without end. Amen.

¶THE AVTHORS PERORATION OR Conclusion, to the deuout readers or hearers. The xij. Chahter. [Page 127] The xij. Chapter.

I Thanke almightie God of his goodnes, that I am come to the ende of the voyage of the wandring Knight: by the which thou maist vnderstand, that in following Folly and vaine. Voluptuousnesse, he forsooke God, to the preiudice and hurt of his soule, yea, to the daunger of euerlasting damnation. Héere thou maist learne that al voluptuous worldlings are the very subiects of Satan, and that earthly goods and worldly pleasure, shal quickly consume. Thou art taught likewise what great clemencie God vsed to him, drawing him by his Grace, from the sinke of sinne, wherein he was sunke: how he was led to the place of Repentance, and from thence to the Pallaice of Vertue, where by Gods grace he is now, and what goodnesse he hath found there, thou hast heard at large. The Lord graunt vs to lande where he is landed, euen in the lande of promise, promised to the Elect.

And now to conclude, I beséech your good courtesies, that if any thing in this my labour mislike you, interpret the same to the best, and to lay nothing to my charge in the waye of presumption: but commending my good meaning and allowing my will, not to contemne, but to speak well, and esteeme of this my worke, and to vse it for thy benefite and edification, for the which ende I made and compiled the same.

And now I exhort you all (in Christian loue and cha­ritie, that if by Gods grace you be resident in Vertues Pallaice, to perseuer and continue there to the ende, hum­bling your selues before God and alwaies trusting vnto his goodnesse, not vnto your owne strength or merites: ac­knowledging also Gods grace, by the which you are as you are, and of whome you haue, that you haue. Let all your confidence be in his mercie and in his good­nesse.

[Page 128]Furthermore, if any féele and perceiue himselfe out of Vertues Pallaice, by meanes of worldly vanities, let him consider the great perill he is in, and spéedely tourne to re­pentaunce, with a contrite and sorrowfull heart, requiring pardon of God, and trusting wholly to the merites and pas­sion of our Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ. Let him not be ashamed to acknowledge his sinnes, which if he doe, he shall finde at Gods hands grace and mercie. And now I be­seech our Lord God to giue vs all grace, to do according vn­to that which heere is spoken (for otherwise of our selues it is not possible) that leading a life acceptable and agréeable vnto his holy wil, we may in the end after the voyage which we haue to passe in this world, sée and enioye, pos­sesse and haue the full fruition of that glorious Citie of Paradise, where true blessednesse and perfect felicitie dwelleth, euen in the habitation of God almigh­tie, vnto whom be all ho­nor, glory, power & do­minion, for euer­more. Amen.