CHAP. I.

THere was in Siena, which is an ancient citie of Tuscan in Italie, a certaine man called Iames benin­casa, a dyer by occupation, no ritch man of substance, but hauing con­ueniently well to liue. He liued, as he was brought vp, in the feare of God: and towardes the worlde he was a plaine and vpright dealing man, welbeloued of all, that had anie cō ­uersation with him, by reason of his sweet and gentle demeanour: which vertue emong manie other, was noted in him to be singular. This Iames tooke to, wife a woman called Lapa, who was likewise a vertuous woman, verie careful and diligent about her familie, and withal of verie modest, chast, and womanlie behauiour. And [Page 11] therfore almightie God blessed her with manie children, of the which she bare for the most part euerie yeare one, and some yeares two. Last of all it pleased God so to dispose, that she brought foorth two daughters at one byrth. The one was called Ione, which, after she was baptised, liued not many daies. The other was this Catharine, of whom we mynd here to speake: whom the mother brought vp with great diligence, and loued more tenderly then she did the rest of her children, bicause the rest coming on so fast one vpon an other, that she might not endure to nourse them her selfe, but put them out to others, this only she noursed at home with the mylke of her owne brestes: which was one great cause of special loue. But the thing, that did most principally moue the mother to cast a singular affection towardes this daughter, was a certaine vnwonted and meruelous grace, which shewed in the deliteful presence, deedes, gestures, and wordes of this child, euen in the tyme of her tender in fancie. For when she was but only wea­ned from the mothers mylke, and could a litle goe about the howse, the parentes and neighbours thought they could neuer haue their fill of seeyng and hearing her: her countenance was so sweet and amiable, her talke so wittie and to so good purpose. And as she grewe in yeares, so did she also increase in grace and wisedome: in so much, that when she was fiue yeares old, hauing then learned the Aue Marie, she vsed continually to saie the same with ripe iudgement and feruent deuo­tion. [Page 12] And going vp and downe a paire of stayers that were in the howse, her maner was to say one Aue Marie vpon euerie steppe, kneeling vpon her knees with great reuerence. The which singular deuotion towardes our blessed Ladie, how accep­table it was to almightie God, it may right well appeere by the most excellent graces and priuile­ges, that ensued therupon euen in her tender age: which were vndoubtedly most certaine tokens of a verie noble & high calling, of God: as hereafter shalbe declared more at large.

Chap. 2.

When she was sixe yeares olde, her mo­ther seeing her to be of a verie tow­ardly wit, sent her on a daie with her brother Steuen, who was somewhat elder then she, to a sisters howse of theirs called Bo­nauētura a maried woman, either to see how she did (as the maner of kinsfolkes is) or els in some other arrand. When she had done, what she was willed by her mother to doe, she returned homewardes againe: and passing by a street, which is called in their tongue Valle piatta, she cast vp her head a litle, and looked towardes the Church of S. Dominicke, which stood there right ouer against her, and behould, she sawe in the aier a goodlie chamber [Page 13] royally decked, and in it our Lord and sauiour Ie­sus Christ, sitting in a seat imperial, clad with a solemne pontifical robe, wearing on his head a mitre, such as the bisshops of Rome are wont to weare: and with him she sawe the Apostles S. Peter, and S. Paul, and S Iohn the Euangelist. When this blessed infant beheld all this, at the first she was astonished. But afterward being come to her selfe, and well aduised, she cast vp her eyes, both of body and sowle, to her Sauiour: who likewise cast the eyes of his diuine maiestie vpon her, with a lo­uelie and smyling cheere. And stretching out his right hand towardes her and ouer her, made the signe of the Crosse (as the maner of bisshops and prelats is to doe) and gaue her his blessing. The which foorthwith wrought so effectually and mightily in her, that she was rauished and trans­fourmed spiritually into that most glorious and beawtiful Lord; whom she beheld with such an inward and spiritual liking, that she forgat, not only her going and waie, but also her own selfe. In so much that she stoode still there, without mouing any part of her bodie: & so would she haue stood, not only then, but manie other tymes also, without regard or feare of either men or beastes, (which are wont to be dreadful to litle childrē) if she had not ben towched, or taken awaie by some other. But at the lenght her brother Steuen, who was gone on his waie, imaginyng that she had folowed, turnyng backe and seeing her a great waie behind, standing still in the waie, & looking [Page 14] vp into the elemēt, cried vnto her alowd & called her by her nam; But she gaue him no word to ans­were: for she was in deed so wholly occupied in al her senses both in wardly & outwardly, that she gaue no heed to his crying: whereupon he went neerer and neerer, and euermore as he went, he cried vnto her. But all was to no purpose, vntill he came at length to the verie place, where she stood, & tooke her by the hand, saying. What doest thou here: whie comest thou not awaie? At the which wordes and pulling of her hand, she cast downe her eyes a litle, like one that had ben awa­ked out of a dead sleepe, and said. Oh, said she, if thou haddest seene that goodlie sight, that I sawe, thou wouldest neuer haue done so to me. And whē she had said those wordes, she cast vp her eyes againe, thinking to haue seene it, as she did before. But when she sawe that it was vanished awaie, she reuenged the iniurie done vnto her by her brother, as childrē are wont to doe, with weping. And it grieued her so much the more, bicause she perswaded her selfe, that by the casting downe of her eyes, she had deserued to leese the blisful fruition of that glorious sight. Thus ended this wonderful vision, leauing her with such a thirst and languishing loue after that heauenlie beawtie, which she had seene, that from this tyme forward her whole care and studie was, how to recouer the same againe. Now whē our Lord had after this maner watered the roote of his litle plāt [Page 15] with the dewe of his sweet blessing, she began foorthwith to yeald, not only buddes & blossomes of great matters in expectation, but also ripe frutes of diuerse and sundrie excellent and perfecte ver­tues: in so much that in all her behauiour she shewed her selfe to all those, that God vowchsa­fed to conuerse with her, not like an infant, as her yeares required; nor yet like a young woman, (which not withstanding in that age had ben a verie strange matter) but like a graue and sad matrone. This heauenlie fyer of Gods holie loue had wrought such an alteration in her hart, such a light in her vnderstanding, such a feruour in her will, such a plyantnes in all her powers, both of bodie and sowle, to folowe the instincte of his holie Spirite, that to them, that sawe her be­hauiour, and tooke good heed to her wordes and deedes, it seemed that she was wholly transfor­med into IESVS-CHRIST her sweet spowse and Sauiour. In so much that on a daie going to con­fession (as her maner was) she declared of her selfe to her gostlie father, that she had learned the liues and austeritie of diuerse auncient fathers in Egipt, & other Sainctes, and specially of the holy patriarke S. Dominicke, not by the teaching of men, nor by reading in bookes, but by reuelation from God: and that she had such a desire to frame her life after the examples and rules of those holy men, that she could think vpon none other thing, but only how to bring the same to passe. Wher­vpon she entred into a newe course of life, which [Page 16] was so strange & vnwonted (especially in that tender age) that all men had great wonder of it. First of all she gaue ouer all maner of plaie and sport, wherein yong children are wont to take delite. Then she withdrewe her selfe from all companie, that she might haue the freer and more familiar accesse to God, in holie meditations and praiers. She bound her selfe to a wonderfull kinde of silence, she punished her bodie with much ab­stinence, and other hard discipline. The which that she might doe with the more commoditie & secrecy, she sought out a priuie place in the howse, where she might scourge her selfe with a cord, which she had prouided for that purpose. And as she was a towardlie scholer in the schoole of Christ, yealding her selfe verie ployantly to be lead from vertue to vertue, whether soeuer it pleased the spirite of God to lead her: so was she also a diligent and discrete schole-mistres, and vsed meanes to allure and trayne other litle chil­dren also of her age, in the same patthes of vertue and austere life. In so much, that when the neigh­bours children resorted vnto her (as they did oftentymes) being sterred to grace by the sweet wordes, and holie example of this gratious infant, they would gather them selues together in a cer­taine secret place of the howse, which she had chosen out for the nonce, and there would they scourge them selues, as they sawe her to doe, say­ing in the meane tyme ech of them, a certaine nomber of Pater nosters and Aue Maries, according [Page 17] as she prescribed them to saie. By these & other the like exercises of piety and deuotion, she fownd such fauour in the sight of her heauenlie spowse, that verie manie tyme, when she set hir self to goe vp and downe those staiers in her fathers howse, saying her Aue Maries after such sort as we decla­red before, it was seene by diuerse and sundrie persones, that she was caried sensibly in the ayer by the almightie power of God and ministerie of Angels; without towching anie steppe of the same with her feete. And this happened vnto her, namely at those tymes, when she retired her selfe from all companie, and specially of men. And there is no doubt, but that it happened in that place, to geue her and others to vnderstand, how acceptable that deuotion towardes the most glo­rious mother of God, which she exercised in that place, was to almightie God.

Chap. 3.

THis yong virgin had learned by reuela­tion, that the trade of life, which the auncient Heremites liued in Egipt, was verie acceptable vnto God: and therfore she had a passing great desire, to seeke out some solitaire place in the wildernes, where she might likewise liue after their rules and examples. But she could not deuise, how to bring her desired purpose to [Page 18] passe. And bicause it was not the will of God, that she should take that trade of life in such maner as she desired, he left her in this point to her owne natural wit, and would geue her none other di­rection, but only what her owne childish wit could deuise. Wherupon to accomplish the great desire that she had to serue God in the wildernes, on a daie tymely in the mornyng, she made her prouision (like a child) of one loafe of bread, and with the same tooke her waie towardes her sisters howse, which was maried, & dwelt neere vnto the gate of S. Ansanus. Howbeit she entred not into the howse, as she was wont to doe, but passed by, and went out at the gate: (and so did she neuer before that tyme.) And so passing foorth, vntill she came at the lenght, where she sawe the howses standing one here and an other there, and not to­gether, as she was wont to see them in the citie, she begā to be glad & hoped wel, that she was neere to the wildernes. Yet she held on her waie a litle fur­ther, and came at the last to a place, where she fownd a litle caue vnder a bancke, which pleased her very well. And foorth with she entred into the same with passing great ioye & gladnes; for she persuaded her selfe verily, that she had now fownd out that wildernes, that she so much desi­red. And when she was entred, she stood not long to consider of the opportunitie of the place, or how she might accōmodate her selfe in that newe oratorie, but by and by without anie further aduisement or consideration, she fell downe [Page 19] on her knees, and set her selfe to praier with great humilitie and feruour of spirite The which lowly and deuout mynd was so acceptable in the sight of our Lord, that although it was not his holie will and pleasure, that she should followe that order of life, yet to geue her to vnderstand that no holie desire or purpose shal euer passe vnre­warded, he gaue her this tokē. As she was praying with a verie vehement bent of mynd, she was taken vp by litle and litle from the earth, where she kneeled: and her bodie was lifted vp as high as the height of the caue would suffer her to rise. And so she continued from mornyng till noone. But whē she perceiued, that she was thus lifted vp from the earth, she began to feare and to suspecte, that it might be some deceite of the ghostlie ene­mie, whose drifte might be, by this meane to put her in feare, and so to hinder her designement of going into the wildernes. And therfore she set her selfe to praie more feruently, and to abase her self more and more before God. Wherevpon about that verie hower, that our Sauiour after his passion was taken downe from the Crosse, it pleased his diuine maiesty, that she likewise should descend by litle, and litle in like maner as she had ascended. And he made her to vnderstand by his secret inspiration, that the tyme was not yet come, in the which she should forsake her fathers howse, and put her bodie to such penance and affliction. Wherfore she was in mynd to returne home againe. But when she came foorth and sawe [Page 20] her selfe all alone, and beheld the gate of the citie, which seemed to be so farre off, that she douted her weake and feeble bodie would neuer be able to endure so long a iourney, fearing also lest her father and mother should thinke that she had ben lost, she set her selfe againe to praier, and cōmitted the matter wholly to God: who failed not to supplie the weakenes of his litle hand maid, and sent a litle clowd, which tooke her vp from the grownd, and carying her in the ayer, set her in a verie short tyme in the gate of the citie: from whence she went with all speed home to her Father and mother: who suspected nothing at all of anie such matter, but thought she had ben with her sister Bonauentura.

Chap. 4.

SVch was the vertue and operation of this afore mentioned reuelation, that it drewe al wordlie loue and affection out of the hart of this yong maid, and wrought in the same a cer­taine holie loue to the Sonne of God only, and to his most glorious mother the virgin Marie. And this loue was so great, that she accounted all the delites and pleasures of this wordle as verie durt and dong, in comparison of her sweet spowse Iesus Christ. Moreouer, being now seuen yeares old, she had learned only by the inward instructiō [Page 21] of the holie Ghost in her hart, that is was a goodly state of life, & withal verie acceptable vnto God, to liue in all puritie & cleannes both of bodie and sowle. She had learned also, that our blessed Ladie the most pure & vnspotted mother of God, was the first that dedicated her selfe by vowe to serue God in that most cleane and perfecte state of virginitie. And therfore she thought it most expedient, for the obteinyng of that grace, to make her humble suite to her, who had before al others obteined the same at Gods hand for her selfe, and vndoubtedly for all those, that should afterwardes require it at her hand, with the like humilitie and earnest desire. Being therfore of the age of seuen yeares, she set her selfe verie grauely & sadly to take aduisement, what order of life was best for her to take: and for the better resolution in that point, she praied to our blessed Ladie, queene of Angels and virgins, that it would please her to make intercession to her deere Sonne, that he would vowchsafe to teach her by the instincte of his spirite, what waie she might best take, that were most to his glorie and to her sowles health. Our blessed Ladie, mother of pitie and comfort by whose gracious mocion this holie desire was first planted in her hart, heard the discrete dema­und of this wise yong virgin, and answered her iust request, First with a dailie increase of greater desire & longing after the thing requested, which was to knowe, how she might order her life, to be most acceptable vnto God, & then also with a [Page 22] resolution from God, certifying, her by secret inspiration in her hart, that his will and pleasure was, that she should serue him with all purity both of bodie and sowle, in the state of virginitie. The, which when she vnderstood, she suffred not that heauenlie fyer enkendled in her hart, to be quen­ched nor to slake, but being wholly inflamed with the loue of that most excellent and goodlie maner of life, she chose out a secret place in the howse, farre from the conuersation of all persones, where she might with the more freedome of spirite, offer vp her praiers and vowes to almightie God: and there composing her selfe, both in bodie and mynd with all humilitie, she made her praier after this maner. O most blessed Ladie, O most glo­rious and sacred virgin, mother of God, which before all other women diddest by vowe, conse­crate thy virginitie vnto God, & becamest therby so gratious in his sight, that he would haue his only Sonne to be borne of thee: I most humbly beseech thee, trusting not in anie merites of myne owne, but only in thyne vnspeakable pitie, that thou wilt vowchsafe to obteine me such grace and fauour with thy only begotē Sōne, that frō this day fore­ward I may take him for the lawful & deerly be­lowed spowse of my sowle. And I here geue my faith and promise both to him, and to thee, that I shall neuer take other spowse, but shall by the assistance of his holie grace, doe what in me lieth, to keepe my selfe a true, and vndefiled virgin to him alone. Thus praied this yong [Page 23] handmaid of Christ with great lowlines and fer­uencie of of spirite; And her praier was heard, her vowe accepted, and she receiued to be the vn­defiled spowse of the vnspotted lambe of God Iesus Christ. The which thing when she vnder­stood (as she did by and by, by the inward inspira­tion of the holie Ghost) being replenished with a certaine holie feare, she emploied her whole care and studie, how she might best keepe her selfe chast, & true to her deere spowse. And though as yet she felt no motion to vnclean­nes in her flesh, yet to prouide like a wise womā, for the tyme to come, she began euen in those tender yeares, to tame her bodie with fasting, watching, & abstinence from all deliteful thinges, and namely from eating of flesh. In so much, that when anie flesh was laid vnto her at the table, either she gaue it to her brother Steuen that sate by her, or els she conueied it priuily awaie, that no man might see it. She praied verie often and much, & subdued her bodie with much hard and sharpe discipline, sometymes by her selfe alone, & sometymes with other yong children, which re­sorted vnto her at tymes, and were as it were trayned vnder her in spiritual exercises. And so with these and other the like workes, she preser­ued & increased the graces of God, that were plā ­ted in her, by her deere spowse Iesus Christ.

Chap. 5.

AFter that this yong virgin had thus es­powsed her self to the Sonne of God, she was wholly enflamed with the holie fire of his heauenlie loue in such sort, that she had a passing great desire and zeale not only to be vnited her selfe to him with a pure and syncere loue, but also to wynne other sowles also. By reason of the which zeale she cast a speciall affection to those Sainctes, that she vnderstood had taken paines specially about the bringyng of sowles vnder the sweet yoke and obedience of Christ. And vnderstanding by reuelation from God, that S. Dominicke had institued the order of the friars Preachers to that end, she had the brethren of that order in such reuerence, that when she sawe anie of them passing by her fathers howse, she would goe after them with great humilitie and deuotion, and kisse the verie steppes, where they had set their feet. She had also a meruelous great desire to be professed her selfe in that rule, that she with the rest of the brethren might doe, what in her laie, to wynne some sowles vnto God. But when she sawe, that she might not doe so, bicause [Page 25] she was a woman, she thought to take an other waie, which was, to goe into some farre countreys and there to change her apparel, and so to be re­ceiued into some cloister for a man. Thus she thought of her selfe, but yet not altogether wit­hout some president. For she had vnderstood befor of S. Euphrosina (by whose name she was com­monly called, while she was a litle one, peraduen­ture by Gods prouidence to for-signifie this holie designemēt) that she had after such a maner chāged her attire, and liued a verie religious and streight kind of life in a monasterie among men. But though this desire and purpose continued long in her mynd, yet at the lenght by her humble and continual praier, she obteined at Gods hand to vnderstand, that he would not haue her to take that waie: wherupon she gaue it ouer. Now this yong virgin waxed fast in the growth and stature of her bodie, but much faster in the encrease of vertue, in meekenes, in deuotion, in graue and womanlie behauiour, demeanyng her selfe in all her wordes and deedes so discretly, and with such an vnwonted grauitie in that age, that her paren­tes, acquaintance, & neighbours had her in great admiration. Emongest a nomber of thinges, that passed verie notably of that sort, this one acte (me thinketh) is not to be passed ouer with si­lence. It befell on a daie, that her mother, hauing a special deuotion to S. Anthonie, would haue a Masse to be said in the honour of the said Saincte. Wherupon she called her daughter vnto her, and [Page 26] taking her certaine candels and money in her hand, said these wordes vnto her. Goe daughter (said she) to the church, & praie our parish Priest, that he will sing or cause to be song, a Masse in the honour of S. Antonie; And offer vp this money and candels vpon the aulter. She tooke the money and candels of her mother willingly (as she was euermore verie glad and readie, to doe whatsoe­uer she was commanded by her parentes, espe­cially if it tended to the honour of God) and wēt without anie tariance to the church, and did as she was willed to doe. And furthermore for her owne priuate deuotion, she continued out the whole Masse, and all the rest of the diuine seruice. Now her mother thought she would haue retur­ned home againe, so soone as she had made her oblation vnto the Priest. And therfore when she was come home, to make her ashamed of her long tarying, she spake vnto her, as the maner of mo­thers is to speake vnto litle children. Cursed be those wicked tongues (said she) that said, my daughter should come no more. She is come at the lenght, though it be long first. The child hea­ring those wordes, held her selfe still for a while, and gaue no word againe. But after a good space, when she had, as it were, well aduised her selfe, she tooke her mother aside, and with great sadnes of countenance said meekely vnto her. Good mother, when yee see, that I do transgresse anie commandement of yours, [Page 27] beate me with a rod, as you shall thinke best, that I maie be the more warie an other tyme, for it standeth well with right and reason, that yee so doe. But one thing I praie you: for my faultes curse no man or woman in the wordle, good or bad, for it is vnseemelie for you to doe it, and to me, it is a great griefe of mynd to heare it. The mother was so astoined at the discrete answere and graue counsel of her yong daughter, that for a good tyme she could not deuise how to say anie more vnto her. How beit bicause she would not haue her to vnderstand so much, she turned to her againe and said. Whie, werte thou then so long awaie? Deere mother (said she) I taried to heare that Masse, and the rest of the diuine seruice: and that done, I came streight home, without tarying in anie place. Then was the mother more edified by those wor­des, then she was before, and went to her husbād, and told him all that had passed betweene her and her daughter. The which when he heard, he weighed the matter like a wise man with him selfe, and tooke it to be a verie certaine token, of some great grace and singular holines, that was like to ensue in his daughter: who increasing daie by daie, in the loue and feare of God, lead her life in these and other the like woorkes of vertue and godlines, vntill she came to the age of twelue yeares.

Chap. 6.

WHen this maid was now come to the age of twelue yeares & vpward, her father and mother tooke great care, how they might bestowe her honestly in mariage; for the better perfourmance wherof, that there might not lacke anie grace or comelines to set her foorth withal, that either was in her by nature, or might be had by diligence: her mother, after the maner of women in that countrey (in deed rather much vsed, then greatly commended) was earnest with her, that she should bestowe more tyme and diligence, in washing and scowring her skynne, in kembing and coulo­ring her haire, in plucking vp such haires as grewe in her face or necke disorderedly, and in other the like vaine and superfluous attendances, about the trymming and decking of her bodie, to please the eyes of men. But the yong spowse of Christ, whose hart was wholly preuented with the loue of the fairest & beawtifullest emong the sonnes of men, who had also both the louelines of her spowse, and her owne faith and truth, so [Page 29] lately plight to him, euermore present before her eyes, could in no wise be induced, to withdrawe anie tyme from the inward decking of her soule, to make it appeere seemelie in the sight of God, and to bestowe the same about the outward ad­ornynge of her bodie, to make it gratious and liking to the eyes of men. And therfore she shewed her selfe to be vtterly vnwilling, to folowe her mothers counsel in that point. When her mo­ther sawe, that her wordes and perswasion could take no place, she was verie angrie with her, and sent for her other daughter called Bonauentura, which was maried, and willed her to deale with her sister, and to vse all possible meanes to cause her to condescend to her request. Who did as she was willed by her mother, and in deed left no thing vn-assaied, wherby she thought she might wynne her purpose. And so in the end, what by the importunitie of the mother, and what by the example and faire speach of Bonauentura (vnto whome Catherine had alwaies borne a special loue & affection euen from her child hoold) the yong virgin was, as it were, enforced to yeald some­what to the folie, commonly receiued emong women, and so to spend some tyme more then she was willing, about the attiere of her bodie. But afterwardes, when she had retired her selfe from companie, and considered of the matter by her selfe alone, she tooke meruelous great sorowe for it, and was Confessed also for it, with such sobbing and sighing, that anie man [Page 30] would haue supposed, that she had commit­ted some verie grieuous offence. She vsed often times to make a general Confession of her whole life: and euermore when she came to this point, she could make no end of weeping and lamen­ting. The which thing the Confessour percei­uing, though he knewe, that it was a token of a timorous and well disposed mynd, sometymes to feare synne, where none is, yet bicause it see­med strange to him, that she should haue a cons­cience of it, as of a mortall sinne, wheras he by his learnyng, was fully resolued, that in truth it was not so; he asked her, whether she had in all that tyme anie deliberate will and purpose, to doe anie thing contrary to her vowe. Wher­vnto she answered and said, that it neuer, came in her hart. Then he asked her further more, whether she did it to that end, that she might be the better liked of men. To the which demaund, shee made aunswere likewise and said, that there was no one thing that grieued her more, then when she was driuen, by anie necessarie occasion, either to see, or to be seene of men, whom otherwise she was wont to flee, like as men flee serpents; For the which cause she would neuer stand at the doore or windowe, to see, or to be seene of men passing by the howse. The Confessour proceded in examinyng the matter, and demaunded whether her attiere were ouer gaie, light, or otherwise excessiue, aboue that, that was commonly vsed of other [Page 31] women of her degree. Wherunto she answered & said, that it was not. Whie then (said he) do yee take your offence to be so grieuous in the sight of God? Sire (said she, sobbing and sighing from the botome of her hart) bicause I thinke, I did at that tyme preferre the loue of my sister, before the loue of God: and whiles I was afraid to offend a silie transitorie creature, I offended the diuine maiestie of the euerlasting Creatour, and sweet spowse of my sowle Iesus Christ. And with that she fell a weeping and wailing verie ruthfully, & did great penance vpon her selfe. The which the Confessour seing, pitying her state, and thinking it expedient to comfort her in that case, said vnto her. Albeit there was some maner of excesse, yet considering that it was but litle, and done for no wicked or euel intent, but only for a vaine plea­sance for that tyme, I take it, it was not against the commandement of God. When she heard her Confessour saie so, she lift vp her eyes to heauen, and cried with a lowd voice. Oh my Lord God, what a ghostlie Father is this, that excuseth my sinnes? And so with an earnest displeasure against her selfe, she turned to her Confessour againe, and said; Father, thinke you, that this most wretched and vile creature, which haue receiued so manie graces and gyftes of my Creatour, only of his more goodnes, without anie merite on my part, should withdrawe anie tyme from the seruice of such a louing and bowntiful Lord, and bestowe the same about the setting out of this rotten and stincking [Page 32] flesh, which might also be a cause, or inducement, to deadlie synne? When the Confessour hard those wordes, and sawe that they proceeded from a hart wonderfully inflamed with the fyer of Gods loue, being not able to answere her, he gaue ouer to speake of that matter anie more. Neuer­theles he proceded to examine the whole state of her life. And when he had done in that behalfe, so much as apperteined to a learned and discrete ghostlie Father to doe, he gaue afterwardes a verie sufficient testimonie before God and his holie Church, that, when he had heard her Con­fessions, both general and speciall, all the tyme of his life, he could neuer espie anie spot of mortall synne in her conscience, vnlesse this be taken for a mortal synne, which no learned diuine (I thinke) would euer iudge. He testified furthermore both by word of mowth and in writing, that he found her alwaies so cleane from venial synnes, that he could scantlie perceiue by her Confession (which she made both verie often and verie exactely) that she did commit anie offence at all: in so much that it was well knowen, not only to her ghostlie Father that examined her conscience, but also to as manie, in effecte as had anie conuersation or doinges with her, that she did neuer, or seeldome offend so much as in word. And so will anie man iudge, that shall with good diligence, and atten­tion, read ouer the whole storie of her life. For he shall see, that the order of her life was such, her silence so wonderful, her sleepe so short, her eating [Page 33] and drinking so spare, her praiers so continual, her meditations and contemplations so heauenly, her exhortations to others so earnest and so often vsed, her whole conuersation so meeke & sweet, that where such graces did abound, it was not possible, that sinne should take anie place, and where so much tyme was spent in holie exerci­ses, there could not be much tyme spare, to be bestowed in synful workes.

Chap. 7.

WHen this yong maid had ben thus induced, by the importunitie of her mother, and sister, to condes­cend to their vngodlie request, so farre forth, as is before declared, she percei­ued in her selfe, that she was much slacker and colder in her praiers and meditations, then she was wont to be before. Which happened vnto her vndoubtedly, by the permission of God: Whose prouident goodnes disposeth all thinges for his chosen seruantes so sweetly, that he turneth euen their synful deffectes, to their further good & be­nefite. And therfore he would not suffer his deere spouse to cōtinue long in that state, but that there might be nothing to hinder her feruour and de­uotion, [Page 34] he laid his hand soone after vpon Bonauen­tura her sister, by whose meanes she was induced to that inconuenience, and tooke her out of this life, with great anguish and trauaile in child-bea­ring: not withstanding that she was otherwise a lustie yong woman, and like to beare manie children. This Bonauentura was euer of good life, and conuersation: and yet, bicause she had at­tempted to drawe her sister from the seruice of God (to whom only she had wholly deuoted her selfe) and to allure her to the vanities of the wor­lde, it pleased God to shewe this dreadful exam­ple vpon her, for the terrour of all such, as should at anie tyme afterwardes be meanes to hinder holie vowes and purposes. And yet would he not haue her to be vtterly lost: but (as it was reuealed afterwardes to this holie virgin, and she declared the same secretly to her ghostlie Father) she was in Purgatorie, and there abode manie grieuous paines and tormentes, for a long season, and lon­ger should haue done, if this blessed virgin, had not hopen her with her deuout praiers. Now when her sister Bonauentura was thus passed out of the wordle, this deuout maid, being by her departure, deliuered from that importunate cla­mour, which was before verie troublesome vnto her, began to see more cleerly, both the deformi­tie of her synne, and the vanitie of the wordle. Wherupon, with an humble knowledge of her selfe, and sure affiance in the mercie of God, she cast her selfe downe at the feet of our Lord [Page 35] with Marie Magdalen, and there lying prostrate with much lamentation and teares, besought him of pardon for her offence, and would neuer geue ouer her weeping and wailing, but continued stil her most humble sute, that she also might at the lenght heare those comfortable wordes, spoken by our Lord to her hart; Thy sinnes are forgeuen thee: And from that daie foreward she began to beare a special loue and deuotion to the said Marie Magda­len, and to conforme her selfe to her in the workes of penance. It can not be expressed with wordes, what inward griefe of mynd shee tooke, so often as that offence came to her mynd. She sighed and sobbed, she wept and wrang her handes, she tooke no comfort in anie thing but only in the endles mercie of God, of the which she made her selfe well assewred, that it did infinitely passe all the sinnes, that anie man doth, or can commit, and that it was alwaies freely offred to as manie, as would require it, with a contrite and humble hart: wherupon she sequestred her selfe from all creatures, which (she sawe) were void of cōfort, and turned her selfe to God, in whom only she fownd her selfe to receiue perfecte and sownd comfort. With him she sought by all meanes, to make her peace and attonement, & so that made, to set her whole loue and felicitie in him. But the ghostlie enemie of mankind, enuying the blisful state of this goodlie peace, did his endeuour to disturbe the same, by putting into the myndes of her parentes and kinsfolke, how expedient it [Page 36] was, to bestowe her honestly in mariage, espe­cially now, considering that her other sister was departed this life. And so by these and other the like suggestions, the craftie serpent perswaded them to be earnest and diligent, both in sollici­ting her to embrace that state of life, and in pro­uiding her of a conuenient husband. But when the wise virgin sawe by the light of Gods holie spirite, that all that, was but the sutteltie of the deuel, meanyng therby to withdrawe her from her holie purpose, she contrarie wise set her selfe more earnestly, then she was wont, to continual praiers, heauenlie meditations, and other workes of austeritie and penance. She eschewed the sight, and conuersation of men, and gaue all her frindes to vnderstand plainely, that she would haue no earthlie creature for her husband, but only the euerlasting Sonne of God, vpon whom she had fixed her loue. The which resolution when her father and mother vnderstood, they thought good to take an other waie; which was, to send for one of the Dominican Friars, whose authoritie, they thought, she would reuerence, and to intreat him to talke with her, and to see if he could by anie meanes alter her mynd. The Friar came, and promised to doe what in him laie: and so did in deed. He set out vnto her in manie wordes, what austeritie of life belonged to that profession, that she mynded to enter into, what a hard matter it was to hold out in the same, what snares the deuel would laie to entrappe her, how the wordle, [Page 37] would vse manie meanes to circumuent & flatter her, how fraile and weak the flesh was, what a great danger and shame it would be, if when she had once put her hand to the plough, she should looke backe againe. Vnto the which pointes, the faithful spowse of Christ, answe­red with such wisedome and constancie, that the religious man, which came to turne her, was turned him selfe: and so, being sorie that he had waded so farre with her in that course, chan­ged his stile, and said these wordes Daughter, seeing it is so, that yee are fully resolued to serue God in the holie state of virginitie, and that yee are therunto called (as I am thoroughly perswaded by your wordes) euen by God him selfe: I haue no more to saie in the mat­ter: it is the best part, that yee haue chosen: our Lord geue you grace to folowe it. And now, if yee thinke good furthermore to folowe my coun­sel, I would aduise you to cut off your haire; For in so doing, it is like, yee shall both cut of all hope of mariage in your parentes, and withal redeme a great deale of tyme and labour, which other­wise must needes be spent about the trymmyng of the same. When the holie virgin heard those wordes, she tooke them as spoken by God him selfe, and foorthwith she ranne, and tooke a payre of sheares, and cut of her haire hard by the skyn­ne; For she had before, conceiued a certaine dis­pleasure against her haire, bicause she perswaded her selfe, that by the trymmyng of the same, [Page 38] she had committed a grieuous offence against God. And when she had so done, she couered her head with a coyfe, and so went about her bu­sines, contrarie to the maner of all other maidēs. The which when her mother espied, she asked her what that coife meant. Wherunto she made no direct answeere, bicause she was afraid to tell the truth, and to make a lie she had a great cons­cience. Whereupon her mother stept hastely vnto her, and taking of the kerchefe from her head, sawe that her faire haire was cut of hard by the head. The which sight and losse, so pinched her by the hart, that for verie inward griefe she cried out. Alas daughter, said she, what hast thou done? But the maid couered her head againe, and went aside. At this crie of the mother came the good man of the howse, and his other children, hauing great feare and wonder, what the matter should be. But when they vnderstood the cause, they were verie much offended with her: in so much that they reproached her, both in wordes and deedes. Thou vile wretche (said they) trowest thou thus, by cutting of thyne haire, to escape our handes? It will grewe againe in spite of thy teeth. Though thou burst for curst hart, thou must marrie. And make thy selfe well assured of this, thou shalt neuer haue good daie, vntill thou con­forme thy will to our will. And with that they tooke order, that she should haue no more anie secret chamber in the howse to resort vnto, [Page 39] but should be continually occupied about the commō seruice of the howse, that she might haue, neither tyme nor place, to retire her selfe to praier and meditation. And to geue her to vnderstand, how litle account they made of her, they put awaie the kitchen maide, and appointed her to doe, all the workes of drudgerie about the howse. And while she was so occupied, they ceased not to reuile her, whether soeuer she went in the howse, and to loade her eares with most opprobrious and despiteful wordes, weenyng therby to bring to passe, that she should either yeald to them, or be weerie of her life. Last of all, to enforce this battaile vpon the seelie maid with as great strēgth and policie as was possible, they fownd out a comelie yonge man, of a good kinred, and welbe­loued of all that were in the howse, whom they tendered vnto her. But her hart was so thoroughly possessed with the loue of Christ her chosen spowse, that she might not abide to heare of any other. And wheras they had debarred her of that commoditie, which she was wonte to haue, of a secret place to withdrawe her selfe vnto, for praier and meditation: our merciful Lord, who will not suffer his faithful seruantes to be tempted aboue that they are able, but euen with the tentation geueth an issue, taught her by the inward instincte of his holie spirite, how she should buyld a secret chamber, or oratorie in her owne hart, where she might dwell delitefully with her sweet spowse so long as she listed, and [Page 40] neuer be plucked out, whatsoeuer befell. And wheras before, she was enforced sometymes by occasions to goe out of her chamber, and so to be distracted with out ward affaires, now contrari­wise she shut vp her selfe so closely in this closet, and tooke such passing delite in the presence of her loue and ioye, Iesus Christ, whose delite it is to dwell in pure and cleane hartes, that howsoe­uer they cried and called about her, whatsoeuer beating and bounsing they made outwardly, re­proching her in wordes or deedes, she passed with all such thinges so quietly, as if they had neuer ben spoken or done to her. And thus had she a verie sensible, and experimental vnderstanding of that goodly lesson, which our Sauiour teacheth vs in the ghospel, where he saieth: The kingdome of God is within you. For vnto a sowle thus disposed, where Christ reigneth by faith and holie loue, all creatures are made vassal, and do serue ech thing in his kind and course orderly, euen as obedient subiectes do their Prince, in a well gouerned kingdome. Now when this towardlie disciple of Christ, had thus learned this high lesson, by the teaching of the holie Ghost, as she had shewed her selfe to be an humble scholer in the schoole of God, so had she also a charitable desire to become a discrete schoole-mistres to others, and namely to Doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father, whom at tymes, when he was occasioned to goe abroad, by reason of his charge and affaires, she would warne, that he should buyld a secret cell, or closet, [Page 41] in his sowle, out of the which he should neuer de­part. The which wordes, at the first, seemed to him to be verie obscure and darcke: but afterwar­des, when he had considered of them aduisedly, he sawe, that they were to verie good purpose and profit. He sawe, what a goodlie thing it was, for a man to buyld a tēple in his hart for almigh­tie God, and to dwell in the same with quietnes of conscience, and peace of God, that passeth all vnderstanding. And he sawe, how litle the deuel had gayned at this holie virgins hand, by mouing her parentes, to debarre her of that litle commo­ditie of a secret chamber, which she had in their howse. The losse wherof was an occasion to her, to buyld an heauenlie chamber in her hart, where she might enioye the sweet presence of her louelie spowse, so often, and so long as she listed, without anie trouble or molestation. And as for the abba­sing of her, to the vile seruices of the howse, how litle that turned to the aduantage of the enemie, it may appeere by that, that she her selfe declared afterwardes to her ghostlie Father. When she sawe, that her father and mother had appointed her to doe all the workes of drudgerie in the kitchen, and other places of the howse, she neuer repined at it, but turned all that basenes to her great commoditie & merite, by this holie imagi­nation. She had this conceite with her selfe, that her father, represented in the howse, our Sauiour Christ; her mother our blessed Lady; her brethrē, sisters, and others of the familie, the Apostles and [Page 42] disciples of Christ. The kitchen she imagined to be the innermost tabernacle of the temple called Sancta sanctorum, where the most principal burnt sacrifices, were dight and offred vp to God. And with this godlie imagination, she went vp and downe the howse like a diligent Martha, and in her father, mother, and brethren serued Christ, with his blessed mother & Sainctes, so cheerefully and with such a glad hart, that the whole howse had great wonder of it. And thus she turned all that drudgerie, wherunto she was put by the malice of the ghostlie enemie, to the honour of God, to the inward comfort of her owne sowle, and to the great contentation of her parentes, and edifying of as manie as sawe it.

Chap. 8.

BVt yet, bicause she cold not be without some chamber, where she might take her rest in the night season, and a priuate chamber she [Page 43] might not haue, bicause her father and mother had taken order to the contrarie: she chose to be in her brother Steuens chamber, where she might in the daie tyme, withdrawe her selfe from com­panie, whiles he was out of the waie, and in the night, set her selfe to praier, without feare of in­terruption, when he was laid to sleepe. So that night and daie, she sought none other thing, but how she might occupie her selfe in such vertuous exercises, as were most liking to her heauenlie spowse, vnto whom she commended her selfe and praied without ceasing, that it would please him to be the keeper of her virginitie, saying euer­more with the glorious virgin and martyr Cecilia: O Lord, let my hart and bodie be kept vndefiled. And our Lord, who neuer faileth to succour his faithful seruantes in their distresse, heard the crie his vniustly afflicted spowse, and gaue her such strenght and comfort from aboue, that she bare & ouercame with great facilitie, all that heauie bur­then of vexations and troubles, that her parents and kinsfolkes had laid vpon her. And the greater enforcement they vsed, to remoue her from her holie purpose, the more firme and vnmoueable she shewed her selfe to be in continuyng the same. In so much that at the lenght, when her parentes sawe her firmenes and constancie, they confessed, and said in plaine wordes. She hath ouercome vs. And her father, who was more innocent then the rest, considering secretly with him selfe, of the doinges of his daughter, perceiued euerie daie [Page 44] more & more that she folowed in the whole state of her life, not anie lightnes of youth, or stubbernes of hart towardes her parents, but only the motion and guidance of Gods holie spirite. For the better confirmation wherof, it pleased God so to dis­pose, that on a daie, when she was in her bro­thers chamber at praier, leauing the doore open (for her father & mother had geuen her charge, that she should be no where, with the doore shut vpon her) her father in the meane tyme entring into the chamber by chaunce, & seekyng some thing there, of his sonnes, that he had need to oc­cupie at that tyme, fownd her in a corner knee­ling deuoutly vpon her knees; and casting vp his eyes, sawe a litle white doue, sitting ouer her head; which doue, so soone as he was entred, to his seemyng, flewe out at the chamber windowe; wherat being somewhat amazed, he asked her, what doue that was. Sir, said she, I neuer sawe doue, nor other byrd in the chamber, that I wote of. The which when he heard, he was verie much asto­nied, but kept the matter secretly to him selfe. A­bout this tyme, the desire, which this holie virgin had had of long tyme, to put on the habit of S. Dominicke, began to increase in her hart, daily mo­re & more: for the accomplishment wherof, she ceased not by daie & by night, to offer vp her humble praiers and supplications to almightie God. Who liked well of her request, & graunted the same: therfore for her better assurance & con­fort, sent her this strange and euident vision. [Page 45] Being on a tyme a sleepe, it seemed that she sawe, diuerse and sundrie of the Fathers and fownders, of the rules of religion: and emong them, she sawe S. Dominicke, whom she knewe well ynough, by a white lilie that he held in his hand; which lilie seemed to her, to be all in a bright fyer, as the bush was that Moyses sawe, which burned and cōsumed not. Those Fathers willed her, to choose some one of their rules, in the which, she might lead her life, and serue God, with the greater merite. She cast her eyes vpon S. Dominicke, and turned her selfe whole to him: who likewise came towardes her, bringing in his hand the habite of the sisters, commonly called, the sisters Penitentes of S. Dominicke: and said thus vnto her. Daughter, said he, be of good comfort, and dread no pe­ril; for it is certaine, that thou shalt receiue this apparel and weare it. The which wordes, were so comfortable vnto her, that she wept for ioye, and gaue most humble thankes to almi­ghtie God, and to the worthie patriarcke S. Do­minicke. And so with the force of teares gushing out of her eyes, she awaked, and came to her selfe againe. By this vision she receiued such comfort and strength, both in bodie and sowle, and withal such a trust and affiance in God; that the selfe same daie, she called her father, and mother, & brethren together, and spake vnto them with a great grace, and comelie boldnes, after this maner. It is now a long tyme, sence yee first began to treat with me, that I should marrie with some mortal man; The [Page 46] which talke how much I euer abhored, I neuer declared plainely, but concealed it in part, for reuerence that I bare vnto you. But now I may no longer hold my peace: and therfore I mynd to open my hart and purpose vnto you in plaine wordes. It is so, that I haue made a full resolution and promise to my Lord and Sauiour, and to his most glorious Mother the blessed virgin Marie, that I will serue them all the daies of my life, in the cleane and holie state of vir­ginitie; And I geue you to vnderstand, that this is no newe thing, or lately come vpon me, but a thing that I did long since, euen in myne in­fancie, being not with standing therunto mo­ued, not by anie childish lightnes, but by long and sad aduisement; and that, not without verie euident tokens, and most assured reuelations from almightie God. And I haue vowed withal, that I will neuer incline myne hart, to accept anie other husband, but only him. And therfore now, being come by his gratious goodnes, to the yeares of discretion, and more perfite knowledge, I thought it my bownden duetie, to aduertise you in expresse termes, that thus much I haue, by the will of God faithfully promised, and thus much I will by the grace of God, truly obserue, This determinate pur­pose, is so deepely imprinted in my sowle, that it shalbe more easie to make a hard flint softe, then to take this godlie resolution out of myne hart. Wherfore I most humbly beseech you, [Page 47] that yee wil leese no more tyme, in treating with me about mariage; For in this matter, I maie in no wise, condescend to your request, bicause I haue plight my faith and truth, to Iesus Christ alone, whose loue I doe, and must preferre before all earthlie creatures, Now, if it shall please you to keepe me in your house, with this condicion, as your common seruant, I will serue you wil­lingly, and obediently, to the vttermost of my power. If yee thinke by putting me out of your howse, to enforce me to yeald vnto your demaūd for lacke of necessarie prouision, assure your sel­ues, no feare of lacke can alter my mynd in this case. For I haue chosen him for my husband, that geueth foode to al liuing creatures, who will not suffer them to be destitute of thinges necessarie, that repose thēselues with a sure affiance in his prouident goodnes. With these wordes, pro­nounced with such a comelie grace & modestie, they were all so astoined, & withal so ouercome with tendernes of hart and weeping, that for a good space they were not able to geue her one word for answere. At the lenght, her father, who was a man that feared God, and had a more Christian consideration of thinges, then the rest had, calling to mynd the Doue, which he had seene not lōg before ouer her head, with diuerse & sundrie other the like verie euident tokens of some strange grace, and fauour of God towardes her, after a good season, when he had wonne so much of him selfe, that he was able to speake, [Page 48] made her this answere. Deere Daughter, said he God forbid, that we should will, or desire anie, thinge, contrarie to the will of God, from whom (we doubt not) this holie determination of yours proceedeth. Your long patience and constancie, declare vnto vs verie euidently, that this your designement cometh, not of anie childish lightnes, but of a feruent loue towardes God. Doe therfore a Gods name freely, what you haue vowed: folowe the waie, that the holie Ghost sheweth vnto you. From this daie foreward we shall no more hinder you, but shall confourme our willes to the will of God. Only this, praie hartely for vs to your spowse, whom yee haue chosen in your tender age, that we may after his life be fownd worthie of the blisse, that he hath promised vs. Then turnyng to his wife, and other children, he said likewise to them. From this daie foreward, see that none of you be so hardie, as to molest or hinder my Daughters deuotion. Let her serue her spowse with all diligence and freedome: for in truth this alliance, that she hath made, is both more honorable, and also more for the aduance­ment of our familie, then that was, that we sought to make; We haue no cause to complaine of her doinges? The exchange, that she hath made, is this; She hath refused to match with a mortal man, and hath chosen to be maried, to the immortal God and man, Iesus Christ, the redeemer of the wordle. When the father had spoken these wor­des, not without manie teares, both in him selfe, [Page 49] and in others that were there present, and name­ly in the mother, who bare a verie tender and na­tural loue to this daughter, the ioyous virgin, whose hart, was as it were rauished with vnspe­akeable gladnes, yealded most humble thankes; First to almightie God, by whose gracious assi­stance she had ouercome this battaile; then to her father and mother, for their most comfortable graunt made vnto her: & from that hower fore­ward, she had none other care in her hart, but how she might best directe her life wholye to the honour of her deere spowse.

Chap. 9.

AFter that her parentes had made her this graunt of freedome to serue God, with­out anie hinderance or molestation: she began foorthwith to dispose her life after a meruelous goodlie order. And first of all she besought them, that she might haue some litle chamber to her selfe (which was graunted with­out anie difficultie) in the which, what rigorous discipline, and austerite, she exercised vpon her bodie, with what diligence and carefulnes, she sought to haue the deliteful presence of her spowse, no tongue is able to expresse. There be­gan she to renewe the exercises of the auncient Fathers in Egipt: which wer the more meruelous in her, bicause they were done without anie example, or instruction of man, by a fraile woman, in her tender age, not in a wood, caue, or [Page 50] solitarie place, but in a citie, not in a couent of Nonnes, but in her fathers howse. At the verie entrie therfore into this streight maner of life, first and foremost she resolued vtterly to absteine from all flesh: the which kind of abstinence she continued so precisely, that at the length by long vse and custome, all flesh became lothsome vnto her: in so much that it was euidently seene, that the only smell of it, was noysome to her bodie. Wherby she became verie leane, thynne, and feeble. Which thing her ghostlie Father per­ceiuing on a tyme, and knowing that the cause therof was, that she receiued no meate or drincke, that was of good substance and nourishment, gaue her counsel, that she should put in her water, which she dranke, a litle suger to comfort and quicken the spirites. Wherat she was somewhat moued, and turnyng sodainly to him, said these wordes. That litle life, that is lefte in me, me thinketh, yee goe about to quench it vtterly. With that he began to examine her concernyng the order of her diet, and fownd by examinati­on, that the wordes which she spake, were verie true, for in deed she had so accustomed her selfe to bitter meates, and vnsauorie drinkes, that all sweet thinges were become hurtful to her bodie, forsomuch as her natural disposition was altered by custome. Her ordinarie drinke, from the begynning, was a litle portion of wyne (as the maner of that countrey is) myngled with so much water, that it lost both tast and sauour, [Page 51] and a great part of the coulour also. But when she was fiften yeares old, she gaue ouer all wyne, and drancke water alone. She weaned her selfe like­wise by litle and litle, from all maner of sodden meates, and susteined her bodie with bread only, and a fewe rawe herbes. After this, when she was of the age of twentie yeares, or there about, she gaue ouer the eating of bread also, and held her selfe to rawe herbes only. Last of all, she came to such a high state of life (not by anie force of na­ture, but by the supernaturall power of God) that for a long tyme together, she susteined her life without eating and drinking at all, and yet en­dured withal, willingly and cheerfully, both verie paineful sickenesses, and also verie hard labours of the bodie. Moreouer and all this, it was certainly knowen, that her stomake had quite lost the office and power of digestion: and yet, neither was that moisture, which the phisitians call Ra­dical, consummed, nor the strenght of her fraile bodie anie iote decaied. Which thing can not be ascribed to anie exercise or custome of abstinence, but only to that fulnes of spirite, which abounded so much in the sowle, that it redownded into the bodie also.

Chap. 10.

SHe made her selfe a bed of boordes only, without anie other thing, betweene them & her body: vpon the which sometimes she sate, or stood vpright in meditation, and some­tymes she kneeled or laie downe prostrate in praier. And when she would lie downe to sleepe, she neuer put of her clothes. The clothes, that she ware, both next her bodie and without, were all wollen. Sometyme she would weare a rough shirt of haire vpon her skynne. But bicause she was much geuen to cleanlines, & she tooke it, that the haire was an occasion of some vncleannes: she laid it aside, & tooke for it a chaine of yrō, which she gyrded so hard to her sides, that it made a deepe dent into the flesh, as though it had ben burnt with a hoate yron: as some of her spiritual companions, and daughters, reported afterwar­des, whose helpe she was ēforced to vse at tymes, by reason of great infirmities and diseases, vnto the which her bodie was verie much subiecte. The which thing her ghostlie Father vnder­standing at the lenght by them, not long before her death, being moued with pittie, commanded her by vertue of obedience, that she should leaue it off. Which though she was verie loth to doe, bicause she perswaded her self, that the roughnes therof had a great comformitie with the life of Christ, yet bicause she knewe on the other side, that obedience was more acceptable in the sight of God, then anie austeritie of life, she did hum­bly as she was commaunded

Chap. 11.

HEr watching was verie strange & won­derful; for at the length she had by a litle and litle so ouercome sleepe, that in two daies & two nightes she would allowe no more, but one halfe hower to sleepe: the which halfe hower also she would neuer take, but when very feeblenes of bodie constreined her. Her bed (as it is said before) was bare bordes: her bolster, or pillowe, a hard peece of wood. The which thing her mother perceiuing, being moued with mo­therlie affection, and pitie towardes her owne flesh, entreated her earnestly, that she would geue ouer her owne hard bed for a tyme, and be con­tented to lie with her vpon her bed, and there to take her sleepe if she could, if she could not, at the least to rest her selfe a litle. She shewed her selfe in all pointes obedient to her mother, and went with her into her chamber, and when her mother was laid in one side of the bed, she went & laid her selfe downe in the other side: Where she continued watching in praier and medita­tion, vntill at the lenght perceiuing her mother to be fast a sleepe, she rose vp softely without making anie noyse, & gott her selfe to her won­ted exercises. But the suspicious mother, whose hart was euermore waking, espied forthwith the wilines of her daughter, and tooke it verie grie­uously. VVherupon the good daughter, who had alwaies a great care to doe nothing, that might [Page 54] grieue her mother, deuised a newe sleight, by the which she thought, she might both satisfie her mothers mynd, and exercise in some degree her accustomed discipline. She tooke two peeces of tymber, and put them priuily into the bed, vnder the sheet, on that side where she should lie, and laid her selfe downe vpon the same. But it was not so secretly done, but that the mother, who had a great iealousie of all her doinges, within a short tyme fownd it out. The which when she espied, and sawe withal, that how diligent and carefull soeuer she was to qualifie the rigour of her daugh­ters life, she would on the other side be as politike and inuentiue, to find meanes to continue the same; as one ouercome she gaue ouer, and said vnto her after this maner. Daughter, I see well, it booteth not to striue with you anie longer, I doe but leese my labour; Wherfore a Gods name goe your waie, & take your rest in your owne chā ­ber, at what tyme, and after what maner, yee shall thinke best. And so after this tyme she entermedled no more in her doings, but suffred her freely to fo­lowe the instincte & guidāce of the holie Ghost in all thinges. When the blessed virgin had thus by her godlie wilines, ouercome this battaille, that was raised against her by the malice of the ghostlie enemie, to hinder her heauenlie designemētes, she returned to her former spiritual exercises againe, with a passing great increase of feruour and deuo­tion. She tooke such a delite in meditating & rea­sonyng, vpon thinges apperteinyng to godlines, [Page 55] that doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father (who was a verie graue, wise and learned man) affirmed this to be a thing, which he tooke to be most certainly true, that if she might haue come into the companie of men of vnderstanding, that would haue reasoned with her of God, a hundred nightes, she would haue continued with them in such communication without eating, drinking or sleeping. Yea he affirmed furthermore, that, whē she had anie such occasion to speake or heare others speake of God, she was sensibly nourished, recreated and conforted withal: as contrary wise, when she might not be so occupied, it was eui­dently seene, that she drooped, and became leane, drie, and feeble. He confessed also to the honour of God & of his holie spowse (though withal to his owne shame & confusion) when that blessed virgin would at tymes speake of the goodnes of God, and of his mercies towardes her, he (by reason of the lenght of tyme, which she spent euermore willingly about that matter, and also, bicause▪ he was farre from that feruour of loue that was in her) being ouercome with the hea­uines of his bodie, fell into a slomber, & she in the meane tyme, being mightiely caried vp into God by the vehemence of her spirite, continued her discourse still, taking no heed to him: vntill at the lenght after a long tyme, casting her eye aside, and seeing that he was a sleepe, she would crie to him alowd and saie: Alas Father, why leese you the profite of your sowle for a [Page 56] litle sleepe? Doe I speake to a wall, or to you?

Chap. 12.

THis holie virgin, hauing a great desire to folowe the steppes of S. Dominicke, vsed for a long space to beate her selfe, three tymes euery daie with a chaine of yron. The first tyme, for her selfe: the second, for the liuing: & the third, for the dead. The which discipline she was enforced at the lenght to geue-ouer, by reason of the weakenes of her bodie. Being demaunded on a tyme of her ghostlie Father, how, and after what maner she did that penance, she ans­wered with great bashfulnes, that for euerie tyme she tooke an hower and a halfe, and beat her selfe so, that the blood tricled downe from her shoul­ders to her feet. And while she was in this exer­cise, laid on so sore vpō her bodie, that her mother being one tyme neere vnto the chamber, & hea­ring the noise of the strokes, was in wardly moued with motherlie pitie, and so entred in sodainly vpon her. But when she sawe the maner of it, when she beheld presently with her eyes, the roughe yrō chaine, wher with she beate her selfe, the bodie of daughter miserably rent and torne, the bloodie streames, that ranne downe to the grownd on all sides, being ouercome with natu­ral compassion, she cried out like a woman besides her selfe, and said. Alas Daughter, what doest thou, what meanest thou? Wilt thou kill thy selfe? [Page 57] Who hath counselled my daughter to exercise such crueltie vpon her tender bodie? with that she scright out, as lowd as euer she could, and tare her haire and clothes, and sared like a madd wo­man. In so much that the neighbours rownd about, hearing the lamentable criyng of the old woman, and dowbting of some strange and heauie mischance, came runnyng into the howse to com­fort the afflicted mother. When they were there, and sawe what had happened, it is hard to saie, whether of them two they pitied more, either the mother, whose bowels (they sawe) were so in­wardly moued, with compassion on her deere child, or the daughter, who had exercised such rigorous iustice, and bloodie reuenge, vpon her owne bodie, for the synnes of others.

Chap. 13.

WHen this blessed maid was thus at libertie to occupie her selfe in the afore mentioned exercises of god­lines and penance: the more the ghostlie enemie busied him selfe to hinder her good purposes, the more earnest she waxed in folowing the same. And now, calling to mynd the religious habite, promised vnto her long be­fore by the blessed Father S. Dominicke, she neuer [Page 58] ceased to praie to God with inwarde groanyng & teares both by daie & by night, that he would vowchsafe to fulfill his promise with speed. For she sawe, that she should neuer be free from the molestatiō of her parents, vntill such tyme as she had receiued it: & therfore she humbly besought thē also, that they would be contēted to dismisse her, & to be meanes to the sisters that liued in penance, vnder the rule of S. Dominicke, cōmonly called there, the sisters of the Mantel, that she might be admitted into their cōpany. But her mother, who had no liking of her sute, but sought rather somewhat to qualifie the rigour of her exercises alreadie begon, determined to goe to a hoat bath, and to take her daughter with her, hoping thereby to bring to passe, what by cherishing of her bodie with such sensual delites, and what by distracting her mynd from her wonted me­ditations, that she should in tyme by litle and litle, relent the extremitie of her rough disci­pline. Vndoubtedly this was not done with­out the instigatiō of the deuel, whose bent was, to withdrawe that deuout sowle, from folowing the calling of her spowse. But there is no counsel against God, who taught his true seruāt to turne all the treacherous wiles of the enemie, to her further cōmoditie & profit. Whē she came to the bath, she fownd out a new maner of bathing, such as had not lightly ben hard of, before that tyme. she intreated her mother, that she might be in the bath alone, when all other had bathed thē selues. [Page 59] The which thing when her mother had graun­ted with a verie good will, (being in deed a plaine meanying woma, nand nothing suspec­ting the wilines of her daughter in that mat­ter) she went and set her selfe vnder the spowt, where the water came scalding hoate into the bath: and there suffred patiently greater paines, of the heat of the water, then she was wont to doe at home, when she beat her selfe with the yron chaine. Now when her mother had es­pied that also, and sawe that whatsoeuer she coulde deuise, for the solace or comfort of her daughters bodie, was by her wilines turned to the contrarie, she determined to returne to her howse againe: where not withstanding she ceased not to shewe in wordes, that she had a great misliking, of her extreme seueretie and penance. Vnto the which wordes the good daughter gaue but a deafe eare, hauing euermore greater regard to the holie spirite of God, spea­king inwardly in her hart, then to the outward sownd of wordes, that tended to the hinderance of her godlie designementes. Afterwardes, when her ghostlie Father, (who had heard tell of her bathing by the report of her mother) de­maunded of her how it was possible, that she shoulde be able to suffer the heat of that scalding water so long tyme, without the extreme do­mage and peril of her bodie, she made answere and said verie simply, that being in the bath, she called to mynde the paines of hell, & purgatorie, [Page 60] and so made her praier to almightie God, whom she had so grieuously offended, that he would vowchsafe of his endles mercie, to change the tormentes, that she had deserued by her synnes, into those paines, that she would willingly put her selfe vnto there for is loue. Vnto the which praier it pleased God to make answere, by ge­uing her such a passing great ioye and gladnes in her hart, that all the paine, that she suffred, was pleasant and deliteful vnto her: and the almightie power of God, so dispensed with her bodie, that it had in deed a verie great and sen­sible feeling of paine, but no hurt or blemish at all. When she had thus satisfied the demaund of her ghostly Father, she went home, and fell againe to the exercises of her accustomed penance.

Chap. 14.

NOw to come to our matter againe, whē this blessed virgin was returned from the batthes, she ceased not to sollicite her mother, that she would moue the afore­named sisters of the Mantel, that she might re­ceiue the habite, that she had so long and ear­nestly desired. The mother being ouercome with the importunitie of her daughter, went to the sisters, and intreated them, that she might be [Page 61] receiued into their companie. Wherunto they made answere, that it was not their maner, to receiue yong maidens into their habite, but only widowes, and women of sad yeares, such as were thought able and likelie to haue expe­rience to gouerne them selues: bicause they had no common place and conuersation as commonly couentes of religious persons haue, but liued echone a part from other in priuate celles. When the mother came home with this answere to her daughter, she was nothing daun­ted withal, but besought her mother, after a verie humble maner, that she would take the paines to renewe her sute againe, and vse more earnest meanes to perswade with them, then she had done before. Which thing she was well content to Doe, and went againe: but in fine could obteine no better answere, then she had at the first. The which vnplea­sant answere also, the good daughter tooke in verie good part, remitting her selfe humbly to the will of God in all thinges, and making her selfe well assured, that the holie Father S. Domi­nicke would in tyme (when it should please God) fulfill his promise. In the meane tyme, it chaunced this blessed virgin to be visited with a verie painful sicknes. Her bodie was so disfi­gured with the measels, that she could scantly be knowen: and withall she was so sore vexed with a hoat burnyng ague, that her mother, who loued her emong all her chidren most [Page 62] tenderly, had verie great pitie and feare of her. The which occasion, the wise virgin thought, was not to be slipt: but taking the oportunitie of the present state and tyme, began to moue her mother once againe after this maner. Good mother, as yee tender my life and health, so I beseech you, to vse diligent and earnest meanes to procure me the habite, that I haue so long desired; for otherwise I am well assured, that our Lord, and S. Dominicke, who haue called me to their seruice, will so dispose of me, that you shall not haue me long, neither in that habite, nor in anie other. These wordes she repeated so often, and with such vehemencie, that her mother at the lenght, being verie sore afraid, lest her daughter showld haue died in deed, went againe to the religious sisters, and intreated them so earnestly, that they were ouercome with her importunitie, and so made her an ans­were after this maner. If your daughter (said they) be not ouer-faire, we are content to receiue her. If she be, the malice (ye knowe) of the wordle is such, that you shal hassard the good name, both of your daughter, and of all vs. And therfore we maie in no wise receiue her. Wherunto the mother ans­wered and said. Come your selues and iudge, whether she be faire or no. Wher­vpon they sent two discreete matrons, cho­sen out emonge them selues, to goe and [Page 63] consider both of the state of her bodie, and also how she was affected in mynd. Which coming to the howse, fownd the maid lying sicke on her bed, and by sickenes so altered, that they might not well discerne the diposition of her bodie. Howbeit by her wordes, they sawe verie euidently, that she had a mer­uelous feruent desire in her hart to serue God, wherat they were both verie much astoined, & also verie glad, to see so yong a maid, to passe a nomber of auncient women, in vertue and god­lines. And so taking their leaue there, they went home to the rest of their companie, and declared vnto them, what they had heard & seene. Vpon the which report, they communicated the matter to the brethren of the Order, and that done resolued with a full consent to receiue her into the habite, sending word to the mother, that so soone as her daughter was recouered, she should bring her without anie longer delaie. The which tidinges was so ioyful to the yong virgin, that she wept for verie ioye, and thanked God, and S. Dominicke, that it pleased them, at the lenght, to perfourme their promise. And then she began to alter the tenour of her praier; for wheras before she was euermore glad of bo­dilie sickenesses and diseases, now contrariwise she besought our Lord, in most humble & earnest maner, that he would vowchsafe to deliuer her out of hand from that infirmitie of bodie, that staied her there, from the accomplishing of her [Page 64] vowe and purpose, referring her selfe, notwith­standing in all thinges, to the holie will, and disposition of almightie God. Who gaue eare to the inward groanyng of his faithful spowse, and graunted her petition in such sort, that she receiued foorth with both health of bodie, and also the habite that she so much longed after. And bicause she was the first virgin, that was receiued into that habite, she was also accounted afterwardes, the head and sowndresse of all the virgins, that by her example were admitted into the same Order.

Chap. 15.

When she had receiued the habite, though it were not the maner in that Order, to make a publike and solēne profession, yet she made a ful & prefecte resolution, frō the botome of her hart to serue God in extreme pouertie, and streight obedience: the which she obserued so precisely, that at the verie tyme, when she was to passe out of this life, she said boldly, that she could not remember, that she had euer transgressed, or failed, in anie thing, that was commaunded her by her superiors, were it neuer so litle. Her pouertie also was so perfecte, that in all her life, [Page 65] she did not only her selfe, not possesse or desire anie things that were superfluous, but besought almightie God also most hartely, for her father and mother brethren and sisters, that it would please hin to diminish their state and substance, to the end that a nomber of occasions and indu­cementes vnto synne, which are commonly annexed with the aboundance of earthlie thin­ges, might be taken awaie from them, and they by lacke & necessitie, brought to remēber God, and to flee vnto him, for succour and helpe, in their distresse. And it was euidently seene, that her praier was heard; for it fell so out by the pro­uident goodnes of God, that they came in deed to great penurie and lacke, by strange chaunces, without anie fault on their part. Now, being thus newly entred, into the discipline of the sis­sters penitentes, she tooke such a passing delite, in the obseruation of the rule, and had such a desire, and earnest longyng, to atteine to the perfection of spiritual life, that she would speake to her selfe at tymes, after this maner. Loe Catherine, thou art now entred into a state of religion; frō hence foreward, thou must take an other trade of life, and not liue, as thou hast done hitherto. Let the wordle passe now, & begynne to thinke of reli­gion, dost thou not consider the colour of the habite, which thou hast taken, and what it mea­neth? Thyne ynner garment is white: to geaue thee to vnderstand, that thou must be inwardly white, and pure of life, without anie mixture [Page 66] of anie vncleannes. Thyne outward garment is blacke; wherby thou art put in mynd to mor­tifie thy flesh, with new watching, fasting, and praier, and with other the like workes of au­steritie. Thou must now fight manfully, and subdue thy rebellious flesh: Thou must die to the wordle, and liue only to thy spowse Looke thou therfore, what is required of thee to doe, and not what most men doe. Thou hast taken the streight way, that leadeth to life, wher­fore it behoueth thee to streighten thy selfe, and to walke warily in this waie. Thy spowse teacheth thee, that this is the waie that fewe take, which is a warnyng to thee, that thou must haue an eye, not to the multitude, but to the fewest, and best; For the waie of the grea­ter nomber of men is wide, and leadeth to damnation. These and other the like speeches, she would vse at tymes, to stirre vp her selfe, to the better obseruation of her godlie vowes, and designementes. And emong other thinges, she determined to keepe a verie strange, & rigorous maner of silence; In so much that for the space of three yeares, she neuer spake with anie crea­ture, but only with her ghostlie Father, & with him she spake only in cōfession, & not otherwise. Out of her cell, she neuer went, vnlesse it were to the Church to heare Masse, or some other diuine seruice. And bicause she began then to eate none other meate, but only bread, and rawe herbes, she needed not to goe out for anie other prouision. [Page 67] She determined neuer to goe to take anie repast, or bodilie sustenance, without much weeping before: as though that had ben a cōuenient ante­past, to procure an appetite. After this maner she fownd the meanes to find out a wildernes in the middle of the citie, and to make her selfe a solitarie place, were there was great resort and concourse of people. She continued in praier, & meditation, in the night season, vntill the Friars Preachers, rang the second peale to Matins. And then she went to take a litle rest; saying these wordes to our Lord. Lord, hitherto haue thy seruantes my brethren taken their rest, and I haue kept the watch for them, before thee our gardian, & protectour, beseeching thee to keepe them from the assaultes of the enemie, and all euel; Now are they risen to praise thee: wherfor I humbly praie thee, to keepe them, and to geue me leaue to rest a while; And so she laid her selfe downe, vpon the bare boordes, and put vnder her head, a hard blocke, in steed of a bolster or pillowe.

Chap. 16.

THis holie virgin, declared in secret confession, to her ghostlie Father, that at what tyme she began to retire her sel­fe from all conuersation, and to liue alone in her [Page 68] cell, it pleased her spowse Iesus Christ, to visite her in visible maner, and to geue her instructi­ons, in matters concernyng her saluation. Fa­ther, said she, take this for a most certaine truth, that I was neuer taught the rule of spiritual life, by anie man or woman, but only by Iesus Christ, the spowse of my sowle: who hath informed me alwaies, either by secret inspiration, or els appeering openly vnto me, and speaking to me, as I now speake to you. She declared moreouer to her ghostlie Father, that at the begyning, her visiōs were for the most part, only wrought in her imagination; but afterwardes they were sensible: in so much that she sawe with her bodilie eyes, and heard with her bodilie eares, the sownd of the voice, that spake vnto her. She reported furthermore, that at the begynning, she began to doubt and feare, lest it might be some deceite, or illusion of the ghostlie enemie, who transfigureth him selfe into an Angel of light. Which feare our Lord misliked not, but rather commended it highlie vnto her, and said, that so long as a man or woman, liueth in this life, he should alwaies stand in feare, according as it written. Blessed is the man, that is euer fearfull. And he asked her, whether she were willing, to learne of him certaine, notes and tokens, by the which she might be able, to discerne betweene the true visions of God, and the false illusions of the enemie. Wherunto she made answere, with great submission, and lowlines of spirite, and [Page 69] besought him humbly, that he would vowcha­safe to teach her. Then he said these wordes. Daughter, It were an easie matter for me, to in­forme thy sowle inwardly, with the secret in­stincte of my spirit, in such sort, that thou shoul­dest at all tymes discerne perfectly and without errour, betweene true visions, and counterfeicte illusions. But bicause my will is, that it should profit others, as well as thee: therfore I will teach thee a general rule and lesson, which is this. My vision beginneth euermore with feare and dread, but in processe of tyme, it setteth a sowle in great ioye, quietnes, and securitie. It begynneth with some kind of bitternes, but in continuance it waxeth more deliteful & sweet. The visions of the enemie, are contrarie; For in the begynning, they shewe a kind of securitie and gladnes, but in processe they turne to feare, and bitternes, which increase afterwardes, and waxe greater and greater. And it standeth with good reason: for so much as my waies, and the waies of the enemie, haue this special differen­ce. My waies are the keeping of the commaun­dementes, in perfection of a vertuous and godlie life, which leadeth vnto me. These seeme at the begynnyng, to be full of difficultie and vnplea­sant: but in tyme, they become easie ynough, & pleasant. But the waies of the enemie, are the transgressing of my commaundementes, in the libertie of the flesh, and licentiousnes of life, which shewe at the begynnyng, to be deliteful, [Page 70] and pleasant: but in continuance of tyme, they proue in verie deed, dangerous, painful, and vnpleasant. Take this also, for a most cer­taine and infallible rule, to discerne betweene true, and false visions; Bicause I am truth, it can not otherwise be, but that euermore by my visions, the sowle of man must needes receiue a greater knowledge of truth: by the which knowledge he cometh to vnderstand, both his owne basenes, & the worthines of God: and so consequently, to doe due honour and reuerence to God, and to make litle account of him selfe; which is the proper condicion of humilitie. The contrarie happeneth in the visions of the enemie; For he being the father of lying, and king ouer al the children of pride, can geue none other thing, but only what he hath: and ther­fore in his visions there must needes ensue in a sowle, ignorance, and errour: by reason wherof it conceiueth a false reputation of it selfe, which is the proper condicion of pride. By this maiest thou knowe, whether thy visions be of me, or of the enemie, of truth, or of falshood. If they come of truth, they will make thy sowle humble: if they come of falshood, they will make thy sowle prowd. Thus was she instructed of the teacher of all truth, Iesus Christ: and she kept his doctrine and instructions, verie faith­fully in mynd, and vttered them afterwardes to her ghostlie Father, and others, for their instruction, as it shalbe declared hereafter. [Page 71] And after this time it pleased God to send her so manie visions, and reuelations, that who so would consider of them aduisedly, he should see, that it were hard to find, anie two men in the wordle, more familiary acquenited, then our Lord and she were. In so much that whether she praied, or read, or meditated, or walked, or waked, or slept, she was at all tymes, and in all places, visited, and comforted of our Lord. And which is more, while her tongue was out­wardly speaking vnto men, her hart was inwar­dly bent vpon God, and spake, spiritually with him. Howbeit that could not endure anie long tyme: forsomuch as her sowle was within a litle space, so drawen vp and vnited to God, that it could not choose, but forsake vtterly, the senses and powers of the bodie.

Chap. 17.

EMongest a nomber of goodlie and high lessons, that she learned of our Sauiour, this was one. On a tyme, while she was praying, our Sauiour appeered to her, and said. Daughter, knowest thou what thou art, and what I am? If thou haue a perfecte knowledge of these two pointes, thou art blessed. For by the meane therof, thou shalt easily escape all the snares of the enemie, and shalt not at anie tyme, [Page 72] geue consent to anie synne, that is against my commaundementes: but contariwise, thou shalt be able to atteine to all grace, all truth, all cha­ritie without anie great difficultie or hardnes. This is a briefe doctrine, by the which a man may, without reading manie bookes, without discussing manie suttle, and perplexed poin­tes of philosophie, be made blessed, and vnite him selfe with God. Full well did my seruant Augustine vnderstād this, when he saied. O Lord, when I knowe thee, and when I knowe my selfe, then haue I obteined the frute of all my praier. Verie fewe atteine, to the perfecte vnder­standing of this matter: and therfore geue thou good heed to my wordes, that thou maiest be made able to conceiue it. Thou art she, that art not. Is not this true? Art not thou she, that was made of nothing? In so much as euerie creature is made of nothing: and so hauing no maner of being of it selfe, it begynneth to haue a being, by my almightie power, to witt, what soeuer is, it is by me, and not by it selfe. And therfore of it selfe, it tendeth euermore to no­thing againe, that is, to haue no being. And if I should withdrawe my hand, that conserueth it, but for the space of one moment, it would foorthwith turne to be, as it was of it selfe, that is, nothing. Now bicause synne is a defecte, and so consequently nothing: therfore man (vnlesse the hand of God did alwaies preserue him) would of him selfe, tend vnto synne, and so [Page 73] to al maner of defect. This is the doctrine, which I taught my disciples, when I said; VVithout me yee can doe nothing. And by the mowthe of myne Apostle; He that taketh himselfe to be some­what, when he is nothing, deceiueth him selfe. And in an other place; VVe are not sufficiēt to thinke anie thing of our selues, as of our selues, but our sufficiencie is of God. Be thou therfore wel assured, that whatsoe­uer you are, that are you by my creation, and by my cōseruatiō, by the which it may be said after a sort, that I doe as it were, create you againe and againe, from tyme to tyme, and geue you a newe being euerie moment. And knowe thou also for an vndoubted truth; that as of your selues you are nothing, so of your selues you do euermore tend to nothing. Now if a man were thoroughly perswaded in this truth, to witt, if a man were fully resolued, that in truth he were nothing, how could he be prowd? How could he glorie in him selfe, or in anie worke of his owne, if he knewe, that there were nothing properly his owne, but only defectes and synne? How could he vaunt, and set him selfe before others, if he did consider with good aduisement, that he were equal with all others, to witt, nothing, as al others be? How could he beare enuie to any other, or disdaine the state of anie man, or woman in the wordle, if he sawe cleerely, that all goodnes were of God, and all euell of him selfe? And (if he tooke these growndes to be true) how could he put his hope [Page 74] and affiance, in anie man or other earthlie thing? How could he be brought to saie, or to thinke, that this thing is myne, if he were resolued, that it is God that hath made, it and not him selfe, who (as of him selfe) is nothing? And none can geue that to an other, that he hath not him selfe. He that hath not his being of him selfe, but hath receiued the same of an other by waie, as it were, of petition and beggyng, can not impart it vnto anie other. And therfore the creature that knoweth this, accounteth him selfe vile and base, and full of defectes, and may­mes, on all sides. The which conceit causeth, that he can not loue anie thing in him selfe, bicause he seeth, that there is but one thing properly, and truly, to be accounted his owne, which is synne. But bicause, man standing in these termes, should fall awaie, and liue in a wretched kind of despaire (forsomuch as na­turally he is inclined to haue a being) therefore, the other part of this doctrine is verie requisite to be vnderstood, which is, that I am he, that am: as it was said to Moyses, in the vision of the bush, that burned & was not consumed. In truth that thing is that is of it selfe. And that thing only is of it selfe, whose being dependeth not of anie other, nor hath anie superior cause, which thing is only God. All other creatures, haue their being of God, in so much as they are created, & conser­ued by him. God only, is vnchangable, incorrup­tible, and cause of his owne euerlasting being. [Page 75] That creature therefore, that seeth this, and hath a natural desire of being; when he seeth, that he can not haue anie being, and much lesse anie good, and blessed being, in him selfe, or in anie other creature; he turneth him selfe to God, with an humble, and deuout mynd, and setting him selfe to contemplate and behold his Creator and Conseruer, the geuer, mainteiner, and in­creaser of all being, and blessednes, the euer­lasting founteine and spring of all goodnes, which only is able to slake, the thyrst of all his natural lustes and longynges, he begynneth to sigh towardes him, and knowing him to be a most liberal and bowntifull geuer, he is infla­med with the loue of him, and so much the more, bicause he seeth, that of all the gyftes, and benefits, that he receiueth at his hand, there returneth no cōmoditie to the geuer againe, for­somuch as he is in him selfe, and of him selfe, the most high, perfecte, and sufficient goodnes. And thus encreasing in knowledge, he cometh to vnderstand, that as it is he that geueth and extolleth, so it is he also, that taketh awaie and abaseth, when his pleasure is. Wherupon he conceiueth, a certaine holie feare, which is the gardian of the sowle: by reason wherof he will not suffer anie thing to passe from his hart, that maie offend, so sweet, and bowntifull a geuer. And withal he setleth him selfe, so fast vpon his prouident goodnes, that whatsoeuer trouble, or aduersitie, befall him, he is nothing [Page 76] moued withal, but knoweth for certaine, that almightie God, permitteth it to come vpon him, for his saluation, either for his further instructi­on, or to make him to looke better to him selfe, or to increase his merite, or els as a iust pu­nishment for some offence committed. Mo­reouer, this consideration bringeth him to vn­derstand, that there is no labour, no trauaile, no affliction in this wordle so grieuous, that maie in anie degree, seeme worthie of that glo­rious reward, that he looketh for at the most bountifull hand of God. And therefore he loo­keth no more to him selfe, but only to the mer­cifull goodnes of God: in whom reposing him selfe, with a verie sure affiance, and sweet loue, he receiueth, euen in this present life, a pledge and earnest pennie, of the life to come. This was the first lesson, that the blessed virgin, learned of her spowse and maister: the which she tooke of him verie willingly, like a towardly scholer, and laid it vp verie charily, in the chest of her hart. This was the sure foundation, that the great workeman laid in the sowle of his deere spowse, vpon the which he mynded to make a perfecte buyl­ding of spiri­tual life.

Chap. 18.

IT pleased almightie God, to teach this his scholer, an other verie notable lesson, not vnlike to that afore mentioned. On a tyme he appeered vnto her, and said these wordes. Daughter, thinke on me, and I shall thinke on thee. The which wordes she tooke to be spoken in like sense (as she declared after­wardes to her ghostlie Father) as if our Lord had said in plaine wordes vnto her. Daughter, haue no thought or care of thy selfe, neither bodily, nor ghostly; for I, that knowe what is behoueful for thee, better then thou dost thy selfe, will thinke vpon thee, and prouide with all care and diligence, for thy necessities. Only set thou thy self to thinke on me, for in that stan­deth thy perfection and final blisse. This is a great lesson, and vndoubtedly verie profitable to him, that would exercise it faithfully. For the will of God towardes vs (as the Apostle saieth) is our sanctification, which consisteth in vniting our selues to him by loue: which loue cānot be wrought in our willes, vnlesse our hart be wholly discharged, of the cares of all earth lie thinges. Forsomuch as God is a thing of such [Page 78] excellencie, that he deserueth, to dispossesse our hart of all other thinges, that him selfe maie enter, & take possession of it as the only rightful Lord, and owner of the same. But bicause he seeth, that we stand in need of manie thinges, for the preseruation of our bodie, which if we haue not prouided from tyme to tyme, it must needes decaie: therefore he added furthermore, and said: and I will thinke on thee. Which wordes import so much, as those that he spake to his disciples, when he willed them, to be careles for all earthlie thinges, aperteinyng to the maintenance of the bodie, and to set their whole hope and affiance, in his prouident good­nes. For if it be so, that he prouideth so dwely, for the necessarie sustentation of byrdes in the aier, of beastes, and wormes in the earth, and of all other liuing thinges; if he haue such a fatherlie care to clad the verie trees, plantes, flowers, and other insensible creatures: how much greater care is it like, that he will haue of man (for whose sake all these creatures were made) as being the most excellent creature, made vnto the image of God, & specially chosē, to haue the ioyfull fruition of him selfe? She reasoned furthermore with Church men, & spe­cially with Priestes, and religious persons after this maner. Seing it is so, said she, that we haue made a full resignatiō of our selues vnto God, first in Baptisme, and afterwardes when we entred into holie Orders, or tooke vpon vs the state of a [Page 79] religious life: surely there is no cause why we should be houefull for our selues in anie thing, forsomuch as God, to whom we haue resigned our selues, both can, and will prouide, what­soeuer he knoweth to be behoueful for vs. Wherefore our whole, and onlie care, ought to be, how to please and serue him. And that we must doe, not only in respecte of the reward, that we looke for at his hand, but specially and principally, in consideration of the worthines, of that blessed band of loue and vnion, which is betweene vs and him. In so much that the bles­sed state of life euerlasting, is to be desired of vs, not so much for it selfe, as bicause it vniteth vs perfectly, and inseparably, to our begynning and original being, which is almightie God. It can not be expressed in wordes, what a great affiance, this holie maid conceiued, of those wordes of our Sauiour (And I will thinke on thee); in the which wordes, she tooke such a passing ioye and delite, that she could neuer haue her fill, of thinking and speaking of them. In so much, that she made a treatise, called a Dialogue, wherin she expressed, the wonder­ful frutes of the same; as they maie well per­ceiue, that read it, or rather to saie better, that can perse into the matter, and haue a tast in it. She was wont also to saie to Doctour Raimundus, her ghostlie Father, and to other that were fa­miliar with her: when she sawe them dismaied and pensiue, for anie strange accident that [Page 80] chansed vnto them. Leaue all (said she) to God: what haue you to doe of your selues? For you to take care for these thinges, is to take from God, his care and prouidence: as though he either would not, or could not, prouide for you in all cases. Knowe you not, that he hath a greater care of you, then you haue of your selues? And that he is both able, and willing to award you from all euels? It chaunced on a tyme, that Do­ctour Raimundus, and manie other both men and women, were in a ship on the sea, emong whom was this holie maid also: and when the night came on, they were in great peril (as the pilote said) to be caried, for lacke of a good wind, into strange ylandes, and farre countries. The which thing Doctour Raimundus, vnder­standing, came to her, and spake after a lamen­table maner. Mother, said he, (for so they vsed to call her) see you not, in what danger we stand? To whom she made answere readily, and said. What haue you to doe of your selues? With that Doctour Raimundus held his peace, & tooke a better comfort. And anon after, there blewe a contrarie wind, which enforced the pilote (as he said) to returne back againe, which thing her ghostlie Father went and declared vnto her also. Wherunto she said: Let him turne the ship a Gods name, and folowe the wind that God sendeth. And so he did: and she in the meane tyme, bowed downe her head, and made her praier to God. And they kept not on that [Page 81] course, so farre as a man would shoot an arrowe, but that there came a gracious wind, that brought them to the hauen that they desired, to their great wonder, and gladnes, singyng all with a ioyfull voice. Te Deum laudamus.

Chap. 19.

OFten tymes, when she conferred with her ghostlie Father, and talked con­cernyng the worthines, and state of a sowle, that loued God with a perfecte cha­ritie, she was wont to vtter this sentence. A sowle (said she) that loueth God perfectly, neuer seeth, loueth, or remembreth, anie other creature, neither it selfe, nor anie other thing. The which saying, she declared more plainely after this maner. Such a sowle, said she, seeth that of it selfe it is nothing, and that all her being, and welfare, dependeth of God only: in whom she findeth by experience, that al her felicitie standeth, and in none other creature: and therfore she wholly forsaketh, both her selfe, and all other thinges, & doth as it were, plonge her selfe in the loue of him, and directeth all her workes, and thoughtes, together with all the powers of her sowle in him, according to the rule and direction, that she findeth in him. [Page 82] And without him, she listeth not to be, for­somuch as in him she findeth, all that the hart maie delite in, all beautie, all sweetnes, all quietnes, & all peace. And so by this meane, there increaseth daily, a certaine vnion, and streighte bande of loue, betweene her and God; which in tyme, cometh to be so won­derfully wrought, that she is altogether, as it were, transfourmed into him. Wherupon it cometh to passe, that she can loue, delite, thinke, and remember, none other thing, but only him. All other creatures she loueth, knoweth, and considerereth in him: euen as a man doth, that diueth and swymmeth vnder the water, who seeth and feeleth nothing, that is not either water, or conteined in the water. And if he see anie thing, that is out of the water, he seeth it, not properly as it is in it selfe, but as the likenes of the same sheweth in the water, and not otherwise. This is a verie perfecte and sure rule, by the which a man maie make a iust estimate, both of him selfe, and of all creatures, grown­ded vpon a most certaine, and infallible truth, which is almightie God. Vpon this she brought in an other Doctrine also, which she tooke such pleasure in, that she ceased not to repeate it againe and againe, as a thing verie worthie to be noted. A sowle, said she, that is thus plon­ged in the loue of God, looke how much she loueth God, so much she hateth her selfe, [Page 83] that is, her owne sensualitie, which is the roote, and beginnyng of all synne, and from whence she seeth to arise, the cause of her separation from God, which is her whole felicitie, and final perfection. The which thing when a sowle preceiueth, she conceiueth a great misliking, which bringeth foorth a certaine holie hatred, against her owne lustes, and withal an earnest desire, to kill the roote of the same, which roote is selfe loue. But bicause she seeth, that the roote is so deepe, that it can not be vtterly grub­bed vp, but that there will remaine some peece of it, which will from tyme to tyme molest her: therefore doth she likwise, increase daily in this holie hatred, whereof is engendred, a certaine frutful despising, and setting at naught of her selfe; which by the force and vertue of the loue of God, the ouercomer of all deiection and confusion, riseth vp with a greater hope & desire, and auanceth it selfe towardes God: for whose loue she is desirous to abide all paines, and roughnes of discipline, hoping thereby to subdue al inordinate appitites, and pronenes, to synne in her selfe, which are the lettes and staies, that keepe her from her desired ioye, and vnion with God. And in this humble submis­sion of her selfe, she receiueth an inward light of grace, by the which she cometh to see, and to acknowledge, the mercifull goodnes of God, who is euermore readie to pardon, and will not the death of a synner, but rather that he turne [Page 84] and liue. Which consideration, increaseth her loue towardes him passingly: and by loue she purchaseth daily greater grace, strenght, and fulnes of peace in her selfe, and so goeth fore­ward, in perfection of charitie, vntill at the lēght it pleaseth God, to plucke her as a melowe apple, from this tree of bitternes, and to trans­pose her wholly into him selfe, who is the euer­lasting tree of sweetnes and life. And thus is this holie hatred, the true keeper, and gar­dian of the sowle, the forteresse and sure castel, of a quiet and assured hope in God. This is that, which the holie Apostle meant, when he said: VVhen I am weake, then am I strong. For our Lord had declared vnto him, that strenght is wrought in weakenes. And therefore he saieth also: I will gladly reioyce in myne infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Now this infirmi­tie was nothing els, but only that hatred of him selfe, that we here speake of: Which was caused in him, by the knowledge of that roote of inordinate lustes, and of his weakenes, and insufficiencie to all good workes, which he sawe was in him selfe The which thing when he perceiued, he waxed weake and feeble, that is, he despaired in him selfe, and acknowled­ging his owne feeblenes, yealded him selfe humbly, into the mightie handes of God, in whom only it laie, to cure his infirmitie. Who like a louing Father, foorthwith accepted that lowlie resignation of him selfe, and laying his [Page 85] almightie hand vpon him, made him strong in God, that was content to confesse, how weake and in sufficient he was in him selfe. When this holie virgin spake these, and other wordes to like purpose, she burst out, as it were of a cer­taine inward ioye and iubilee, that she felt in her spirite, and said; O wonderful goodnes of God, how strangely dost thou dispose of of thinges! Out of vice, thou drawest vertue, out of weakenes, strength, out of offence, great grace, and fauour. O deere children, said she, haue this holie hatred in your selues; for out of it ariseth true meekenes, and humilitie of hart: by reason whereof, you shall account all your workes, and other thinges as smoke and vanities, and shall glorie only in God. This holie hatred, shall make you to haue a great moderation, and staie in pros­peritie, and withal a goodlie quietnes, and pa­tience in aduersitie. It shall cawse you to be mo­dest, and comelie in your conuersation with men; gratious and acceptable, in all your wor­kes of pietie before God. Manie tymes also she would adde furthermore, and saie contrariwise. Woe be to that sowle, in the which this holie hatred lodgeth not: for it can not be chosen, but that in such a sowle there must needes reigne selfe loue, which is the roote, fowndation, and syncke of all inordinate lustes. And therefore, when she sawe anie synne, or vice, in anie per­son, [Page 86] being moued with a certaine compassion, she vsed often tymes to saie. This is the frute of selfe loue, the mother of pride, and of all other euels. Doe therefore (said she to her ghostlie Fa­ther, and others) your vttermost endeuour, to grubbe it vp out of your hart, and to plant in the same that holie hatred; for that is the kinges high waie, verie certainly knowen, and well troden: in the which all our defe­ctes, are perfectly corrected without anie errour, and by it we clyme vp to the mount of all vertues, in the highest perfection. Thus much sawe the glorious Father S. Augustine, when he described two cities, the owne fownded vpon the loue of our selues, which tendeth to the dishonour of God, and the other grownded vpon the loue of God, which tendeth to the abbasing of our selues.

Chap. 20.

AFter that she had learned these lessons (which were manie moe, then are here specified) it pleased the wisedome of God, (who seeth, that his seruantes, doe com­monly take more good of their battailes against the enemie, then they doe in the tyme of peace) to suffer his humble handmaid, to enter a great combat with prowd Satan. And bicause his will was, that she should ouercome in that battaile, he would, that besides the furniture, which he had geuen her before, she should now put on a special armour of Fortitude, to serue her against all the assaultes of the enemie. The which though he were willing, to geue her of his own more bowntifulnes, yet bicause he deliteth to be sought vnto, and geueth his graces more wil­lingly, when they are earnestly sought and in­stantly craued at is hand: therefore certaine daies, before this battaile should begynne, he put in the hart of his spowse, that she should humble her selfe before him in praier, and craue the vertue of Fortitude. The which praier our Lord answered effectually, and gaue her both the vertue that she desired, and withal a verie sweet lesson concernyng the same, saying. Daughter, if thou wilt haue the vertue of Forti­tude, thou must endeuor to folowe me. True it is, that I was able of myne owne power, to ouer­come all the forces of the enemie, by diuerse and sundrie waies. But for your behoose and exam­ple, I chose rather to vanquish him, by dying [Page 88] vpon the Crosse: that you, that be only men, might learne, if you mynded to encounter with the enemie, to take the Crosse, as I did, and so by vertue of the same, to ouercome al his wyles and strength. And be you well assured, that this Crosse shalbe a refresshing vnto you in your ten­tations, if you haue mynd of the paines, that I suffred on it for your sake. If you suffer for my loue with me, you shalbe rewarded with me. And the more like you be to me in this life, in persecutions and paines, the more like shal you be to me in the life to come, in ioye and rest. Embrace therefore, my deere daughter, embrace the Crosse; receiue all bitter thinges and aduer­sities, with a willing and cheereful hart. And dread no power, neither of man, nor of the deuel. For in whatsoeuer tyme or maner, they shall make anie enforcement against thee, by this meane thou shalt easily withstand, & put backe, all their violent attemptes. When this good disciple of Christ, had heard this lesson, she forgat it not, but laied it vp with a diligēt regard in her memorie; And euermore afterwardes, she had passing great ioye and delite, in bearing tri­bulation and aduersitie. In so much that there was nothing in the earth, that she tooke such in­ward comfort in, as she did in Crosses, troubles, and hard discipline. For she beleeued assuredly, that by troubles and vexations, she approched neere vnto her spowse, and was made like vnto him: the which the longer they were, and more [Page 89] extreme, the greater weight of glorie she knewe, that they wrought in her for the tyme to come. Now, when our Lord sawe, that his spowse was thus sufficiently furnished & armed, against all assaultes, it seemed a fit tyme, to open the waie to the enemie, and to permit him to come against her, with all his strength & malice. Satan sawe, how much she profited in spiritual life: how lustely & stowtely she clymmed vp to the mount of all perfection. He cōsidered, that she was of the weaker kind, to witt, a woman, and withal of yeares verie yong and tender: all the which tur­ned him to greater griefe & confusion. He wei­ghed also the great opinion, and [...]ame of vertue, which men had conceiued of her: by reason whereof, he sawe, that in tyme he was in dāger, to leese manie sowles, whereupon when he was permitted by God, he began to assiege this strōg fortresse, diuerse and sundrie waies. The first as­saultes, were verie strange tentations of the flesh, in the which, sommetymes he fourmed in her fantasie (both waking and sleeping) illusi­ons and dreames, which were wanton and vn­honest; and sometimes he made certaine corpo­ral visions to appeere vnto her, forming bodies in the ayer, the which he caused to vtter manie wordes and gestures, which were verie filthie and vnseemelie to be spoken. When the blessed virgin, heard and sawe those thinges, she ran foorthwith with great feare and horrour (ac­cording to the doctrine that she had learned) to [Page 90] her yron chaine, with the which, she beat her bodie so much, that the blood ran out in strea­mes. And vnto that rough discipline, she added further more so much watching, that in a maner she yealded no rest at all to her bodie. But the more she increased her austeritie of discipline, the more did the enemie, busie him selfe, in re­newing and multiplying his assaultes, cawsing such visions to appeere vnto her, both more manifestly, and also in greater nomber; and sometymes they shewed them selues, to haue as it were, a certaine pitie, and compassion, on the great penance, that she put her selfe vnto, and said vnto her. Alas poore wretch, what meanest thou thus to torment thy bodie in vaine? Wee­nest thou, that thou shalt be able to endure this hard discipline to the end? What gayne shall it be to thee, if thou murther thy selfe? How much better were it for thee, to leaue off this folie, before thou be vtterly spent. Thou art yet a yong woman, and the tyme of pleasure is not passed. Nature is not so decaied, but that thou maiest well recouer, both thy strength & bewtie, and so shew emong other women, and take a husband, and leaue some increase to the worlde. Maiest thou not as well please God, in the holie state of matrimonie, as in this barren and vn­fruteful state, that thou hast now taken? Hast not thou heard tell of Sara, Rebecca, Lia, Rachel, with manie others, that liued verie perfectly, and honorably, in the state of matrimonie? [Page 91] Who hath brought thee, to enter into this sin­gular trade of life, so hard and streight, that thou shalt neuer be able to hold out in it? All the while, that the enemies, were speaking these and other the like wordes vnto her, she con­tinued in praier, and kept her hart pure from all vncleannes: and gaue them not one woord to answere, sauing only, when they went about to bring her in despaire of continuance, in that holie order of life, then would she saie. I trust in my Lord Iesu Christ, and not in my selfe. And they could neuer gett other word of her. And therefore afterward, when she talked with her ghostlie Father, and others, that conuersed with her, she was wont to geue them this lesson for a general rule, that when they had to deale with the enemie, tempting them to anie maner of synn, they should neuer stand to reason, or dispute with him: forsomuch as he trusteth verie much, in his malicious & sophistical suttelties, & if he maie a litle incline the will of man, he wil soone induce his vnderstāding to errour. But the surest waie in this case is, to deale as a true wife is wont to doe, when she is moued by an adulterer to dishonestie: vnto whom she maketh none answere, whatsoeuer he saie, neither will she so much as looke in his face, but foorthwith tur­neth awaie from him, and so keepeth her selfe faithfull and true, to her husband. And so did this chast virgin to her spowse Christ: and by this meane she gate a great victorie ouer her [Page 92] enemie, boring his eares, with the naile of a strong and faithful praier. Howbeit, though he sawe his first assault thus easily frustrate and put by, yet did he not cease, but moued an other battaile against her, which was much more fierce and cruel then the foremer.

Chap. 21.

WHen the vncleane spirites sawe, that this attempt tooke no place; but was by the grace of God easily ouercome: they tooke diuerse and sundrie shapes of men and women, and setting them selues in such fourmes, before the eyes of the chast virgin, they exercised most filthie actes of the flesh, and spake verie fowle wordes, and vsed all possible meanes to sterre vp her mynd and bodie to vncleannes. The which what a great griefe it caused to her vnspotted, and mai­denlie hart, those only are able to consider, that knowe, what a goodlie treasure, a pure and chast conuersation is in the sight of God, and so consequently, what a great losse it is to be in danger to be spoiled of the same. It was also a great torment, and increase of heauines, to her [Page 93] mynd, to consider, that her deere spowse and Lord, who was wont afore to visite and com­fort her oftentymes, seemed now, as though he had vtterly forsaken her, and would no more relieue and succour her in her distresse, although for her part she did what in her laie, knocking at the gate of his mercie with continual praier, teares, and hard discipline vpon her bodie. And when she sawe, that he made no answere, she began to deuise a certaine newe maner of sleight, to encounter with the enemie (how be it not without the secret instincte of God:) which was this. She conceiued a meruelous great misli­king of her selfe, and against her owne synnes, and so turnyng her indignation, as it were against her selfe, she vttered such wordes. Ah most vile wretch, lookest thou to receiue cōfort? Thinkest thou, that thy synnes haue deserued it at Gods hand? O most vnkind caitife, is it not ynough for thee, that thou art pardoned of the paines of hell? O vnthankeful creature, dost not thou take it to be gaine ynough, that the endles mercie of God, that changed those euerlasting tormentes, into these temporal afflictions? Were it not a verie gaineful exchange for thee, though they should endure all the tyme of thy life? Wilt thou then be dismaied, and relent thy wonted mortification, and discipline, knowing, that by theses meanes, thou shalt es­cape endles paines, and within a short tyme, receiue endles ioye and comfort at the hand of [Page 94] thy deere spowse Iesus Christ? By this maiest thou trie, whether thou haue chosen to serue God for these temporal visitations and com­fortes, or else in hope of that euerlasting blesse, and ioyful fruition of him selfe, in the life to come. A wake therefore, take a good hart, fight manfully, and expecte with patience, the good will and pleasure of God. Now is the tyme for thee, to increase to thy selfe, labour and paine, and to his holie name honour and glorie. It can not be expressed in wordes, how much she was strengthened in sowle by this meane, and contrariwise how much the prowd enemie, was by the same confownded, and weakened. She confessed afterwardes to her ghostlie Father, that there was such a rab­ble of those fowle feendes at that tyme in her chamber, mouing her diuerse and sundrie waies to vncleannes, that she was enforced for a tyme, to flee from her chamber to the Church, and there to keepe more then she was wont to doe. How be it euen in the Church also, she was molested, thought not so much as before in her chamber. Whether when she returned af­terwardes, she was againe so beset with such a compaine of vncleane spirites, representing there before her so manie actes of filthines, and that with so great importunitie and strange maners, that it was a verie miracle, how she was able to susteine the same. But she forth with fal­ling downe to the earth, & there lying groueling [Page 95] on her face in praier, besought God of his mer­cie, with such mightie sighes, and groanes, that in contemplatiō of her pitiful crie, he somewhat asswaged the furie of those fowle feendes. And so continuyng in such afflictions, and troubles, a great number of daies, at the lenght, when at a tyme comyng from the Church, and lying after such a maner in her chamber, she made her ear­nest praier vnto God, crauing his mercifull aide and assistance, there appeered a certaine comfor­table beame of the holie Ghost, which brought vnto her remembrance the goodlie lesson, that our Lord had thaught her before, when she praied vnto him, for the gyfte of Fortitude. And so vnderstanding that all, that was there done, was only the tentation of the enemie, she recei­ued great ioye in her hart, and determined from that daie foreward, to suffer meekely, & gladly, all maner of tentations and afflictions, for the loue of her spowse Iesus Christ. Then one of those wicked sprites, (who was peraduenture of greater boldnes, and malice, then the rest) spake vnto her after this maner. Wretched woman, what meanest thou? Thinkest thou euermore to lead such a state of life, as this is? Make thy selfe well assured of this: We shall neuer geue thee one hower of respite, but shall paine, and vexe thee continually, vntill thou yeald, and consent, vnto our will. Vnto whom she made answere out of hand, with a great courage and affiance in God, and said; I haue [Page 96] chosen paine for my refreshing: and therefore it shall not be yrckesome to me, but rather plea­sant and delitefull, to suffer these, and all other afflictions, for the loue of my Lord and Sauiour, so long and so much, as shall please his diuine maiestie. With that woord, all that detestable companie of vncleane sprites, vanished quite awaie, with a verie dreadfull, & horrible noyse. And behold foorth with, there appeered a mer­uelous goodlie light from heauen, which shone all ouer her chamber, and in that light our Sa­uiour Christ, in such fourme, and maner, as he was, when he hong vpon the Crosse, and there shed his most precious blood, for the redemptiō of the worlde. Who called her vnto him, and and said these wordes. Myne owne daughter Catherine, seest thou not, what I haue suffred for thy sake? Thinke it not much therefore, to suffer for me. After that, he approched neerer vnto her in an other fourme to comfort her, and spake vnto her, manie sweet and louing wordes, and she likewise to him. O Lord (said she, vsing the wordes of S. Antonie) where wert thou, when my hart was so vexed, with sowle and lothsome tentations. Daughter, said he, I was in thyne hart. Then said she againe. O Lord, sauing al­waies thy truth, and my dutiful reuerence to thy diuine Maiestie, how is it possible, that thou shouldest dwell in an hart, replenished with so manie filthie, and shameful thoughtes? Wher­vnto our Sauiour said. Tell me daughter; Those [Page 97] vncleane thoughtes, did they cause in thy hart grief or delite? No, said she, they caused very great griefe, and sorrowe. Who then, said our Lord, was he, that caused that griefe and misliking in thyne hart? Who was it, but only I, that laie secretly within, in the middle of thy soule? As­sure thy selfe of this. If I had not ben there pre­sent, those fowle thoughtes, that stood rownd about thyne hart, seeking meanes to enter (but euermore with the repu [...]e) had without all doubt preuailed, and made their entrie into thy sowle, with full consent of thy will and synful delite. But my presence was it, that caused that misliking in thyne hart, and moued thee, to make resistance against those fowle tentations: the which thy hart refused so much as it could; & bicause it could not doe so much, as it would, it conceiued a greater displeasure, both against them, and also against it selfe. It was my gra­cious presence, that wrought all these goodlie effectes in thyne hart: wherein I tooke great delite, to see my loue, my holie feare, and the zeale of my faith, planted in thy sowle, my deere daughter and spowse. And so, when I sawe my tyme (which was, when thou had­dest through my grace and assistance thoroughly vanquished the pride and insolencie of thyne enemie) I sent out certaine external beames of my light, that put these darcke feendes to flight. For by course of nature, darckenes maye not abide, where light is last of all, [Page 98] by my light, I gaue thee to vnderstand, that those paines were thy great merite, gayne, and increase of the vertue of Fortitude. And bicause thou offredst thy selfe willingly to suffer for my loue, taking such paines with a cheerefull hart, and esteemyng them as a re­creation, according to my doctrine: therefore my will and pleasure was, that they should endure no longer. And so I shewed my selfe: where vpon they vanished quite awaie. My daughter, I delite not in the paines of my seruantes, but in their good will, and readines, to suffer patiently, and gladly for my sake. And bicause such patience, and willingnes, is shewed in paines and aduersitie, therefore doe I suffer them, to endure the same. Take this similitude of my bodie. At what tyme my bodie hong vpon the Crosse in extreme paines and tourmentes, and afterwardes when it laie dead vpon the ground, no man could euer haue thought, that all that not­withstanding, there had ben in it hiden that true life, that geueth life and mouing, to euerie liuing thing. And yet so it was by rea­son of the inseperable vnion, that was, and is, betweene my Godhead and humane na­ture: though not so vnderstood of men, no, not of myne owne Apostles and disciples, that had conuersed with me a long tyme. Now, as at that tyme, when my bodie laie there dead, void of sense, and without all [Page 99] outward shewe of anie inward power, there was not withstanding in it, a diuine power able to quiken and geue life to other creatures, no lesse then afterwardes, when it was raised from death, and endewed with the glorious gyftes of immortal life: euen so (though after a diffe­rent maner) do I dwell in the sowles of my faithful seruantes, at one tyme couertly, and without shewing my selfe, for their exercise & further merite, and at an other tyme openly and without couert, for their comfort and ioye. In this the tyme of thy battaile, I was in thyne hart, armyng and fortifying thee with my grace, against the force of the enemie, but couertly, for to exercise thy patience and increase of me­rite. But now, that thou hast through my gra­ce, fought out thy battaile manfully, and van­quished the enemie, I geue thee to vnderstand, that I am and wilbe in thyne hart more openly, yea and withal, more often for thy comfort. And with these wordes, that blessed vision ended: at what tyme the holie virgin was left, replenished with such abundance of ioye, and sweetnes, that no penne is able to describe it. And spe­cially she tooke passing great comfort in that, that our Lord called her, Myne owne daughter Ca­therine. And therefore she entreated her ghostlie Father, that when he spake vnto her, he would vse the selfe same wordes, and saie, My daughter Catherine: to the end that, by the often repetition of those wordes, she might often tymes renewe [Page 100] the inward sweetnes, that she felt in her hart, of those ioyous wordes of her Deere Lord and spowse.

Chap. 22.

FRom that tyme foreward, it pleased our Lord, to vse a verie vnwonted familia­ritie with her, and to visite her both ve­rie often, and verie louingly, euen as one frend, is wont to visite an other: comyng to her some­tymes him selfe alone, sometymes bringing with him his most blessed mother, the virgin Marie, some tymes the holie patriarke S. Domi­nicke, sometymes also with his mother S. Marie Magdalene, S. Iohn the Euangelist, the Apostle S. Paul, and other Sainctes, whom he brought with him, sometymes all together, and some­tymes againe, some one or els some few of them, according as his pleasure was. For the most part, he came alone, and conferred with her, euen as one familiar is wont to doe with an other. In so much, that manie tymes they walked vp and downe in her chamber together, and said the psalmes, or diuine seruice together, as though they had ben two clerkes, or religious persones. Which maie seeme a verie strange thing, and so much the more, if it be considered withal, [Page 101] that she neuer learned to read, by the teaching of anie man, or woman; for (as she declared to her ghostlie Father) she had a great desire to learne her mattins: and therefore on a tyme, she besought one of her sisters, to geat her an A. B. C. and to teach her the lettres. But when she had trauailed about the same, a certaine of weekes, and sawe that she did but leese her tyme: she thought good to geue ouer that course, and to set her selfe againe, to her customable exercises, of praier and meditation. And one tyme lying prostrate on the grownd, she made her praier after this maner. Lord, if it be not thy holie will and pleasure, that I shall atteine the knowledge of reading, I am verie well content, for thy loue, to continue in my ignorance, and to spend my tyme, in such simple meditations, as it shal please thee to graunt me; But if thou wouldest vowchsafe, to shewe me so much fauour, as that I might be able to read, and sing the deuine seruice, I would be right glad, also to serue thee in such maner. It is a wonderfull thing to re­port, that she had no sooner ended her praier, but that she was foorthwith able to read as readily, as one that had ben trained long tyme in the studie of learnyng. Whereat her ghostlie Father, was meruelously astoined: forsomuch as it was well knowen to all, that conuersed with her, that before that tyme, she could not only not read, or spell, but also verie hardly knowe one letter from an other. After this tyme she [Page 102] gate her bookes of Church seruice, and began to saie her Mattins, and other Canonical howers: in the which she noted disigently the verses of the psalmes, but especially that verse, that is vsed commonly in the begynning of euerie hower, to wite, Deus in adiutorium meum intende: Domine ad adiuuandum me festina: and kept the same in her mynd, with a special regard to her liues end.

Chap. 23.

AFter this tyme, increasing daily in hea­uenlie contemplations, she was at the lenght enforced, almost to geue ouer all vocal praier: bicause she was no soener set to praie, but that foorthwith, she was so much eleuated in the height of her spi­rite, and so rauished from her bodilie senses, that she might scantly endure, to end one Pater noster. Whereupon hauing an earnest de­sire in her hart, to haue yet a further in­crease of perfection, in spiritual life, and to clymme vp, to the highest point of charity, she made her petition vnto almightie God, in most [Page 103] humble maner, that it would please him to geue her such a light of faith, that being guided by the same, she might from that tyme foreward, walke surely and without alteration, in the pat­hes of his holie commaundementes, and make resistance, against all the attemptes of of the ene­mie. The which request, our Lord tooke in good part and answered verie comfortably, and sweetly, saying these wordes. I will make thee my spowse in faith. And euermore, as she increased in desire, and multiplied her praier, so heard she the same sentence repeated and confirmed by our Lord, saying vnto her: I will make thee my spowse in faith. At the last it happened, a litle before the begynning of lent, in the shrouing daies (at what tyme men are wont of a corrupt custome to gather together after a synful maner, and to geue them selues ouermuch to bellie cheere) that this wise virgin, sequestred her selfe from all companie, and closing her selfe vp all alone in her cell, she besought our Lord, with great austeritie of life, with long fasting, conti­nual watching, and feruent praier, that he would vowchsafe to perfourme his promise, in geuing her that perfection of faith, that she so much de­sired. While she was thus praying, with great feruour of mynd, and instance, behold our Lord appeered vnto her, after a verie comfortable maner, and said these wordes. Bicause thou hast forsaken all the vanities of the worlde, and set thy loue vpon me, and because thou hast for [Page 104] my sake, rather chosen to afflicte thy bodie with fasting, then to eate flesh with others, espe­cially at this tyme, when all other that dwell rownd about thee, yea and those also that dwell in the same howse with thee, do bancket, & make great feastes: therefore I am determined this daie, to keepe a solemne feast with thee, and with great ioye, and pompe, to espowse thy sowle to me in faith. As our Lord was speaking these wordes, there appeered in the same place, the most glorious virgin Marie mother of God, the beloued disciple S. Iohn the Euangeliste, the great trompet of the holie Ghost S. Paul the Apo­stle, and the most worthie patriarke & fownder of her order, S. Dominicke: and after these, came the kinglie prophet, and poete Dauid, with a musical psalter in his hand, on the which he plaied a heauenlie song of inestimable sweet­nes, in the eares of the newe spowse. Then our blessed Ladie came to her, and tooke her by the hand: and withal, stretched out her fingers, towardes her Sonne, with a verie comelie grace and besought him that he would vowchsafe, to espowse her to him selfe in faith. Whereunto he assented foorthwith, with a verie sweete, and louelie countenance, and taking out a ring, that was set about with fower precious pearles, and had in the other part, a meruelous ritch diamant, put the same on the finger of her right hand. saying thus. Behold. I here espowse thee to me thy Maker and Sauiour, in faith: Which shall [Page 105] continue in thee, from this tyme forward euer­more, without anie change or alteration, vntill the tyme come that thou shalt consummate the same with me, in a most perfecte, and blesful coniunction, in the ioyes of heauen. Wherefore from hence foorth, beare thy selfe stowtly, and be not dismaied, for thou art now armed with the armour of faith, by the vertue whereof thou shalt withstand, and ouercome, all the assaultes of the enemie. And with that, this vision va­nished awaie, and left her replenished, with such ioye, and sweetnes, that no tongue is able to expresse it.

Chap. 24.

IT may be, that manie of the thinges men­tioned before in this booke, maie seeme to to some men verie strange, and almost in­credible. And no merueile: for whie, so they seemed euen at that tyme to manie men, not only of such as had litle acqueintance with her, but of those also, that liued familiarly with her: who as they were much induced to thinke reuerently of her, by seeing her vertuous, and holie con­uersation: so contrariwise they were put in great doubt, and perplexitie, by reason of the thinges, that she did. Emong others, that cast such [Page 106] doubtes, was doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Fa­ther, a great learned, and wise man; who at the begynnyng of his familiaritie with her could not resolue, whether those wonderful thinges, that he heard, and sawe in her, were true, or counterfeicte, and whether they proceeded of God, or of the deuel. While he stood thus in doubt, and had a great desire to be resolued in the matter, bicause it stood him vpon (being her ghostlie Father) neither to deceiue, nor to be de­ceiued, but to iudge aright of spirites: it came to his mynd, that if he could by her meanes, and intercession, obteine for him selfe, a true Con­trition of all his synnes (such as he neuer had be­fore) together with a perfecte sorowe for the same, and earnest desire to make a full Satisfa­ction in the sight of God, and that he might per­ceiue sensibly, that all that came to him by her meanes: he would take that, for a most certaine, and infallible token, that whatsoeuer she had done, was the worke of God, and not of Satan, transfiguring him selfe into an Angel of light. And this trial liked him verie well, bicause being learned in the studie of diuinitie, he knewe, that the deuel could not possibly be the authour of true Contrition to anie man, and that it is not in the power of anie creature, but only of God, to moue the hart of mā, to what him listeth. And so with this intent he went vnto her, & without declaring anie thing particularly, he desired her, that she would doe him a pleasure. What [Page 107] pleasure, said she? forsoouth, said he, that you would be a meane to your spowse for me, that he of his great mercie, would pardon me all my synnes. Whereunto she made answere, with a cheereful countenance (as casting no doubt at all of the effecte) that she would doe it. Then said he againe. Daughter, I thanke you for this. But yet thus much I must tell you more; That vnlesse you procure me, some good assurance of the same, you doe me no pleasure at all. What assurance would you require, said she? I would require, said he, that I might haue a full Pardon, and a Bull drawen vpon the same, after the maner of the court of Rome. With that she smiled sweetly, and asked him, what maner of Bull he would haue. The Bull, said he, that I desire, is, that I maie feele in my selfe, a certaine deepe, and perfecte Contrition of my synnes, beyond the common course. At that word she gaue him such a cōfortable looke, that it seemed to him, that she had entred into all the secrets of his hart. Well, said she, such a Bull shall you haue also. And so they parted: for the daie was almost spent. The next mornyng doctour Rai­mundus was taken after his customable maner with certaine infirmities, which were notwith­standing verie grieuous, and as then so paineful vnto him, that he was inforced to keepe his bed. There was at that tyme about him, brother Nicolas of Pisa▪ a verie religious man, and one that he loued deerely. The place, where he laie, was [Page 108] a Monasterie of Nunnes, of S. Dominickes order, not farre from the lodging of this holie maid: who saw right well in spirite, in what case doc­tour Raimundus was, and said to her companion. Come, let vs goe to visite our father doctour Raimundus: for he is sicke: what will you doe, said she? ye are in worse case then he. But she foorth­with set her selfe in the waie with her compa­nion, and making more hast, then she was wont to doe at other tymes, came vpon him sodainly [...] lying in his bed, and said; Father, how is it with you? Which was to him so vnlooked for, that he had no tyme to talke with his brother, and to take order for thinges, as he would haue done if he had knowen of her comyng. And scantly could he answere her and saie, that he was sorie, that she should take such paines in comyng to him, being her selfe in farre weaker state, then he was, but that she was entred, without anie further circumstances, into an high discourse (as her maner was) of heauenlie matters, of God, and of his benefites bestowed vpon his creatures; and contrariwise, of our vngrate­fulnes towardes him, and pronenesse to offend such a good, and bowntiful Lord. Which wor­des were spoken, with such grace, that he felt, that his hart was strangely drawen, by the vertu of the same, and that it receiued great comfort. And so for maners sake, he caused him selfe to be taken out of the bed, were he laie, and to be set on an other lower cowch, neerer to her. Who [Page 109] went on with her discourse: & he neuer thought of his petition, made vnto her ouer night, cōcer­nyng the Bull: but was caried awaie, with the efficacie & strength of her wordes; which pear­sed his hart, like sharpe dartes. Whereupon, his mynd being thus forcibly driuen, and entring at the length into a certaine deepe, and inward cō ­sideration of his synnes, (such as he neuer had in his life before) there was represented vnto him, i [...] a most cleere vision, the iudgement seat of Christ; before whom, being arrained & accused, and acknowledging him selfe gyltie, he heard a sentence of euerlasting damnation pronounced against him selfe, which, he confessed, he had de­serued by the order of Gods iustice. This sentēce he heard openly read, and he sawe withal, a pre­paratiō made for his execution in such order & maner, as is wont to be, when malefactours, or theeues, are condemned to the gallowes. At the length, when this dreadful, and horrible vision, had continued a good space, our Sauiour appee­red againe vnto him, not like a terrible Iudge, but like a pitiful Father: & wheras he was naked he clad him with his owne garmentes, lead him into his howse, gaue him to eate and drincke plentifully, made verie much of him, accepted him into his familie, as one of his howsehold ser­uantes, and changed the sentence of euerlasting death, into a firme promise of euerlasting life. The which when he sawe, and considered in­wardly with him selfe, first the deformitie of his sinnes, and danger that he was in, and then the [Page 110] merciful goodnes of our Sauiour, that receiued him againe so louingly: he burst out into groa­nyng, sobbing, sighing, and weeping so aboun­dantly, that in all his life tyme, there neuer hap­pened the like vnto him. The holie maid, that was by, all this while, & sawe, how the medici­ne wrought, began then to hold her peace, and to let him alone for a good tyme, that he might haue his fill of weeping & Cōtrition. And when she sawe her tyme, she spake to him againe, and said. Father; I praie you, geue ouer this maner of reading, and cōsider well of the tenour of the Bull. The Bull, said he? And with that turnyng him selfe towardes her, he said. Ah daughter, maie this be the Bull, that I required of you yester euenyng? This is it, good Father, said she. Wherefore be yee myndful of the benefites of God. That said, she tooke her leaue foorth­with, & went her waie. Doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father, declared yet, an other verie eui­dent signe, of her great holines, and familiaritie, with almightie God; which was this. Being on a tyme verie sicke, and feeble, she laid her downe (as her maner was) vpon her boordes. Where hauing diuerse and sundrie reuelations, she cau­sed her ghostie Father to be sent for, that she might impart the same to him. So soone as he was come, she began, after her accustomable ma­ner, to speak of God, & to recite vnto him many thinges, & namely those thinges, that our Lord had vowchsafed to shewe vnto her at shrofte [Page 111] whereof we spake a litle before. When he heard the thinges, that she reported, and considered of the greatnes of the same, in comparison of that he had read of other Sainctes: he said thus in his mynd. Is it possible, that all this should be true, that she saieth? And with that looking sted­fastly vpon her, he sawe her face sodainly trans­fourmed into the face of a man: who likewise set his eyes stedfastly vpon him, and gaue him a meruelous dreadful looke. The face, that he sawe, was somewhat long: he shewed like a man of middle age: his beard was of the colour of ripe wheat, that is, betweene red and yallowe: his countenance was verie comelie, reuerend, & full of maiestie. And for a litle tyme he sawe that face only, and could see none other thing: which put him in such a feare, and terrour, that casting vp his handes aboue his shoulders, he cried with a lowd voice, and said. Oh Lord, who is this, that looketh thus vpon me? It is he (said she) that is. And with that she came againe to her owne fourme. These and other the like thinges did doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father, report of his owne experience: all which he affirmed to be most certainly true, with a verie great, and earnest protestation.

Chap. 1.

AFter that our Sauiour Christ, had thus espowsed this holie virgin to him selfe, and beawtified her with manie graces, and gyftes: his will & pleasur was, that she should from that tyme foreward, by litle, and litle, shewe her selfe to the worlde; that the graine, that had now lyen hidden in the grownd a conuenient tyme, and was sufficiently mortified, might bud, flower, and bring foorth the frute of manie excellent vertues, to the com­fort of men. Wherefore on a tyme, when he had shewed her many mysteries of the kingdome of heauen, and had taught her also to saie the Psalmes, and Canonical howers with him selfe (as is declared before) he bad her, that she should goe downe to eate with others, and then returne to him againe. When she heard that, she sobbed and wept, & fell downe at his feete after a verie [Page 113] pitiful maner, and said vnto him. O most sweet Iesu, whie wilt thou put me awaie from thee? If I haue offended thy diuine Maiestie, behold here my bodie at thy feete, laie what penance it shall please thee vpon it, and I will helpe with all my hart. Only this I beseech thee, let me not be so sharply punished, as to be sundred from thy bles­sed presence. What haue I to doe with their meates? I haue meate to eate, that they knowe not of. Oh my good Lord, wherefore dost thou will me, to goe to eate with them? Doth man liue of bread only, and not rather, and better, of euerie word, that cometh out of thy mouth? Art not thou he, my deere Lord, that hast cawsed me to eschewe the conuersation of men? that I might the better conuerse with thee? And now that I haue fownd thee, without anie desert on my part, only of thy mere liberalitie and good­nes, shall I be so vnhappie, as to forsake such a goodlie treasure, for to returne to the conuer­sation of men, and so to dymme the puritie and cleerenes of my faith? Suffer not that, O my deere spowse and Lord, for thyne infinitie goodnes. When she had thus powred out her hart before our Lord, pitifully sobbing and weeping, and lying prostrate at his feete, he, like a merciful Lord, gaue her verie sweet wor­des againe, and said. My deere daughter, leaue the care of thy selfe to me. It is meete, that thou doe fulfill all righteousnes. Which thou canst not doe, vnlesse thou be fruteful and profitable, not [Page 114] only to thy selfe, but also to others. Thinke not, my good daughter, that it is my meanyng to separate thee from me, but rather to vnite thy hart more firmely vnto me. Knowest thou not, that all the lawe and prophetes stand of two pointes, to witt, of the loue of God, and of the loue of thy neighbour? Wherefore to make thee perfecte, my will is, that thou exercise thy selfe in the loue of thy neighbour, with great compassion and mercie, that thou maiest flie vp to heauen, not with one wing, but with two. Call to mynd the zeale that thou haddest of winning sowles, which, I planted in thy hart, euen in thyne infancie: at what tyme thou haddest a desire to change thyne habite, and to clad thy selfe like a man, that thou mightest be receiued into the order of the Fryars Preachers. Remember, that this habite, which thou wearest, is the habite of thy father S. Dominicke, and was geuen vnto thee by my deere mother, namely for a special loue and affection, that thou barest vnto him, for the great trauaile, that he susteined in wynning of sowles. Behold, I doe now dispose, and ordaine thee, to that end, that thou diddest through my secret inspiration so much desire in thy yowth. I dispose thee to that function, that my Father disposed me vnto in the earth; I ordaine thee to that ministerie, that I ordai­ned my beloued Apostles and disciples vnto before I departed from them on the earth. [Page 115] And all this I doe for thy further merite and greater crowne. At these wordes the humble virgin tooke great comfort, and bowing downe her head with all submission, said. O Lord thy will be done in all thinges, and not myne, for thou art light, and I am darckenes, thou art he that is: and I am she, that is not; But yet I be­seech thee, my Lord God, let me be so bold, as to aske, how I a wretched & vile woman, should be able to doe anie good in thy Church. How shall I being a simple womā, be able to instructe wise and learned men? How shall it be seemelie for me, to liue and conuerse emong men? Vnto that our Sauiour answered and said. Who is he, that created man, & made a distinctiō betweene man & womā? was it not I? If I thē be the crea­tour of man & womā, what lawe maie restraine me, that I shall not doe with my creatures, what I shall thinke good? Can my power be limited, that I shall not dispose of man and woman, of learned and vnlearned, of noble and base accor­ding to my will? Touching thy question there­fore, which is, how a woman, that is the wea­ker vessel, should be an able and sufficient meane to edifie men, with doctrine and example: bicause I knowe, that this thy demaund pro­ceedeth, not of anie lacke of faith in my almigh­tie power, but only of an humble consideration, of thyne owne weakenes and frailtie: I will im­part vnto thee my secret in this behalfe. Daugh­ter, it is so, that now a daies there aboundeth such pride in the worlde (and specially in those [Page 116] that hold them selues for learned and wise) that my iustice can no lōger beare it; But bicause my mercie is aboue all my workes: as I haue deter­mined to doe iustice vpon this heinous synne, so haue I also prouided a soueraigne medicine against the same, to as manie as will accept it. The proper medicine and punishment of pride, is to be confownded and brought to shame. And therefore my deliberation is, that these men, that are wise in their owne conceite, shalbe made a­shamed, and controlled in their owne iudgemēt, when they shall see those creatures, that they account vile and abiecte (as fraile and weake women) to vnderstand the hidden mysteries of God, not by humane studie, but only by grace infused, and to shewe the same to the worlde, both by word and example of life, and for con­firmation of such doctrine, to worke manie strange signes, wonders, and miracles aboue the course of nature. I will doe now, as I did, when I was conuersant in the worlde: at what tyme I sent simple men, idiots, and fisshers (but reple­nished with heauenlie knowledge, and strength of my spirite) to controll the wisedome of the worlde: so will I send thee at this tyme, and other ignorant persones, both men and women to confownd the pride of those, that are wise in their owne eyes. The which confusion if they receiue, and humble them selues before me, confessing that all wisedome & power is myne: if they will reuerently embrace my doctrine, [Page 117] spread, throughout the worlde by such weake & fraile vessels, I will haue mercie vpon them, and geue them a further increase of grace: and their confusion, shalbe to them a medicine vnto euerlasting saluation. But if they refuse to re­ceiue this medicine, and will needes folowe on in their old course, despising my holie word, & persecuting my belowed seruantes, and frindes: I shall bring them to such confusion, that the whole worlde shall despise them, and set them al at naught. And if after such temporal confu­sion in this worlde they shewe them selues stiffe necked, and vnrecouerable: I will adiuge them moreouer to euerlasting confusion in the world to come: Where, with great bitternes of hart, and penance without frute, they shall see them selues so much depressed, and holden downe vn­derneth them selues, as they had a desire in this life, to be magnified and exalted aboue them selues. Wherefore, daughter, set thy selfe in a readines, to be sent out into the worlde: for I wilbe with thee at all tymes, and in all places; I will visite thee, and directe thee in all thinges, that I shall send thee to doe. When she heard that, she bowed downe her head with great re­uerence, and went downe (as our Lord had wil­led her) to eate with the rest of the howsehold: with whom she continued for that tyme bodily, but her hart was fixed in God. And whatsoeuer she sawe or heard, of wordlie affaires, was te­dious and yrckesome vnto her: and therefore [Page 118] so soone as she might conueniently, she with­drewe her selfe out of all companie, and retur­ned againe to her Cell, that she might there with the greater quetnes, enioye the desired presence of him, in whom she had reposed her whole loue and felicitie. From that tyme foreward, there grewe in her, a passing great desire of receiuing the blessed Sacrament, of the bodie and blood of Christ: whereby she beleeued faithfully, that she should receiue a further increase of grace, and be vnited to God: not only with the vnion of spirite, but also (after a sort) with a blessed coniunction of bodies, while she receiued his most blessed bodie into her bodie.

Chap. 2.

BEing thus appointed by the expresse commaundement of God, to spend so­me part of her life in the compaine of men, that her conuersation might be the more fruteful to them, in all her doinges she shewed, a meruelous profownd, and syncere humilitie, & withal a verie earnest, & hartie zeale, to the ho­nour of God, & to the edifying of al such, as hap­pened to cōuerse with her. For shewe of a great [Page 119] humilitie, she set her selfe with a verie willing and cheereful mynd, to doe all the vilest & fow­lest seruices in the howse, as to swepe the howse, to scowre vessels, to wassh disshes, and to doe other more base and lothsome seruices then these, such as doe properly apperteine to abiecte seruantes and drudges. And it pleased God also, that the seruant of the howse should be often sicke: by reason whereof, her charge & trauaile was doubled; For it laie vpon her, both to serue the whole howsehold, & withal to haue a verie special and diligent regard, to the seruant that was sicke. All the which notwithstanding, she would find a tyme, to geue her selfe to her won­ted exercises, of praier and penance, and to con­tinue (as it were with certaine enterteinemen­tes) her loue and familiaritie, with her spowse; who, to answere her loue, visited her also by euident miracle, diuerse and sundrie tymes in the presence of all that liued in howse with her. While she was occupied about the seruices of the howse, it happened verie often, that she was in a trawnce: at what tyme her bodie was lifted vp into the ayer, and hong there without anie thing to staie it vp, euē as a peece of yron, is wōt to hang at the adamant stone. And as we see, that fyer doth naturally tend vpward: euen so was it made in a sort almost natural to her, (by reason of the heauenlie fyer, with the which her hart was wholly inflamed) to be caried vp to­wardes Christ her spowse, in whom only her [Page 120] spirite fownd rest. In the tyme, while she was in such trawnces, (which happened verie often vnto her) it was euidently seene, by as manie as chaunced then to be present, that her sowle did withdrawe it selfe from the bodilie senses, and that it did so forsake the bodie, that her handes & feete were drawen together: in so much that if they happened to latch at anie thing, they held it so fast, that yee might sooner breake them, thē sunder them from the thing, of the which they tooke hold. Her eyes were closed vp: her necke was stiffe like an horne: and it was no small daunger, once to towche her in that tyme, (though it were done neuer so gently.) Her mo­ther on a tyme standing by, assaied to set her necke straight (for it seemed to her, that it stood a litle awrie.) But, as God would haue it, one of the sisters, that was then present, & vnderstood the danger of the same, cried out vnto her, and bad her in anie case, that she should not doe it. And anon after, when she came to her selfe againe, she felt her necke so sore, as if it had ben beaten with a staffe. And she said furthermore to doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father, that if her mother had put a litle more strength vnto it, she had without all doubte broken her necke.

Chap. 3.

IT happened on a daie, that this holie maid was turnyng the spit, at a hoat fyer of coales, to rost a peece of meate for the howsehold. At what tyme, being her selfe rosted within, with a farre hoater fyer of the spirite of God, then was that fyer, that rosted the meate on the spit, she was rauished in sowle, and taken a­waie from her bodilie senses: by reason wherof the spit stood still. The which thing her brothers wife, called Lysa perceiuing and knowing right well the condicions of the holie maid, tooke the spit out of her hand, & let her alone. When the meat was readie, the howsehold set them selues at the table, and taking a conue­nient tyme for their repast, sawe all that while that she continued still in her trawnce. After supper, Lisa determined with her selfe, that she would tarrie by her, to see the end. At the length, when bed tyme was come, she went speedily, and brought her husband and chil­dren to bed, and comyng againe to see what would become of her, espied before she came at her, that she was fallen into the fyer of hote burnyng coales. Which sodaine sight made her so afraid, that she scright out as lowd as she could, and said; Alas, Alas, Catherine is all burnt. And [Page 122] with that she ran to her, & caught her out of the fyer. Which done, behold, vewing her dili­gently on all sides, to quench the fyer if anie had ben, she sawe, that the fyer had done her no harme, neither to her bodie, nor to her clothes: in so much that, there was not so much as anie sauour of burnyng (as there is wont to be when cloth is burnt) not yet (which is most of all) anie ashes remayning vpon anie part of her gar­mentes. And yet was it a great fyer, and she a long tyme in it. But the fyer of Gods holie loue, that burned inwardly in her hart, was of such force and vertue, that it would not suffer that outward fyer to preuaile ouer her.

Chap. 4.

WHile she was praying on a daie at Siena in S. Dominickes Church, her spirite being rauished (as it happened often tymes) in her con­templation, she leaned her head to a piller, vpon the which piller there was a waxe candle set vp in the honour of some Saincte, that was there. While she was thus in a trawnce, it chaunced that candle to fall downe vpon her head: where it continued burnyng, vntill such tyme as it was all wasted, and did her no maner [Page 123] of harme or displeasure, neither to her head, neither, to the veiles or wimples, that she ware on her head. The like happened vnto her in manie other places, where she chaunced to be, to the great horrour and trouble, of diuerse and sundrie deuout persones, that happened to be present: And namely, when she went about some charitable worke, of edifying and brin­ging sowles to God, then was the malice of the ghostlie enemie, most busie to hinder her good purposes. As it was seene one tyme, when she was so occupied, that the malicious feend tooke her (by the permission of God) and cast her violently into the middle of a fyer. The which thing certaine good folkes, that were then about her, seeing, and hauing great pitie and feare of her case, cried out, and made towardes her as fast as they could, to take her out of the fyer. But she, before they came, rose vp of her selfe, without anie hurt or blemish in the worlde: and looking vp vpon them with a smyling countenance, said vnto them. Be not afraid: for it is the worke of Malatasca. By the which word she meant the deuel: for so she vsed to call him. On an other tyme, while she was lying vpon her cowch, the feend tooke her, and cast her headlong into an erthen panne of coales, that stood thereby, in such sort, that the first thing, that light on the panne, was her head. And he did it with such furie and rage, that the panne was broken in peeces, but she not the [Page 124] worse of one heare of her head. And so she set her selfe vp againe, and smyling to an honest woman, that was then present (called Gabriel) she said vnto her merily. Loe, will yee see, what worke Malatasca maketh here? These and other the like thinges, that happened to this ho­lie maid in verie manie places, maie seeme per­aduenture strang and almost incredible to some man, that looketh only to the thinges here pre­sently declared: & he maie thinke it vnreasona­ble, that almightie God should suffer the bodie of one, that he loueth so tenderly, to be yealded vp for a tyme, into the rough & violēt handes of the feend; But if he will call to mynd. what hath happened in fore tymes to manie holie men and women, and specially to our Sauiour Christ him selfe (who suffered his owne bodie, to be caried by the deuel into an high mountaine, and to a pinacle of the temple) he shall not meruaile, to see the malicious enemie, to haue now the like power ouer the Disciples, as he had then ouer the maister.

Chap. 5.

THis holie maid, finding by experience, that the more bowntiful and charitable she shewed her selfe towardes her euen Christians, the more gracious and acceptable [Page 125] she was in the sight of Christ hirspowse, concei­ued a meruelous great and earnest desire in her hart, of succouring the poore and needie. And that she did verie liberally, euen with temporal thinges. But hauing no meane to doe it (bicause she was religious, & had vowed voluntaire po­uertie) she besought her father with great humi­litie & instance, that he would geue her leaue, to giue some part of the goods, that God had besto­wed vpon him, in almes to the poore according to her consciēce. The which demaund he graun­ted verie willingly, bicause he was verie well assured, that her meanyng in that, and all other thinges, was verie perfecte and sincere. Where­upon he gaue streight cōmaundement also to as manie as were in his howse, that none should be so hardie as to controll her, but to let her to geue out freely, though she gaue all that was in his howse. As soone as she had obteined this graunt, she began to deale out her fathers goods to the poore largely: not to euerie one that would aske, without discretiō, but only to such, as she knewe were in great need and distresse, though they asked not. Among other, she vnderstood of two families, that stood in great need, and yet were ashamed to begge of whom she tooke great pitie; and therefore rising one daie verie tymely in the mornyng, she loded her selfe with corne, wine, oyle, and other thinges necessarie, and caried the same towardes the howses, of those poore folkes. Whether when she came, as God [Page 126] would haue it, she fownd the doores, open: & so set downe her prouision within the doores, and pulling to the doore after her slancke awaie pri­uily, & gate her home againe as fast as she could. At an other tyme, this holie maid was swollen in all partes of her bodie, frō the top of her head to the sole of her foote, in such sort, that she could neither sit nor stand, nor yet lie in her bed, wit­hout great paine. At what tyme, hearing of a poore widowe that liued in great distresse, and lacke of necessarie sustinance, for her selfe, & for her childrē, being moued with inward compas­sion of their wretched state, she made her hūble petitiō to our Lord the next night, that he would vowchsafe to lend her so much strength of bodie for a litle tyme, as that she might be able to goe & succour that poore woman. Anon after, feeling her selfe meruelously well comforted, she rose vp early in the mornyng, and filled her sacke with corne; she tooke two great flascats also, one of wyne, and an other of oyle: and withal, whatsoe­uer she fownd in the howse meete to be eaten. And when she had laid this prouision together, thinking it impossible to carrie it all at once to the widoes howse, which was farre from thence (& the thinges weighed no lesse then an hūdred powndes) she cast vp her hart to her spowse, and besought him of his gracious assistance. That done, she began to trie with a stowte hart, what she was able to doe. Some part she laid vpon her shoulders, some she trussed vnder her gyrdle, [Page 127] some she carried in her right hand, and some in her lefte. And when she had loded her selfe with all this burthen, she felt no more of it, then if it had ben a wad or wispe of strawe: but so soone as the common bell of the citie had rong (before the which tyme it was not lawful for anie per­sone to walke in the streetes) she tooke her waie towardes the poore widowes howse, and went so light on the grownd (not withstanding all that heauie waight of prouision, and great feeblenes of bodie withall) as if she had caried nothing, but had ben caried her selfe, as in truth she was. But, when she was almost come to the howse, the burthen, that seemed before verie light, became so heauie and paineful to her, that she thought, she could not beare it one foote further. The which strange alteration when she felt in her selfe, she conceiued foorthwith, that it was the will of God, that it should so be. And therefore she turned her selfe to him with a great affiance in his mercie, and made her humble petition to him, that he would vow­chasafe to ease her againe, and make her able to goe thorough with her burthen. And with that, finding her selfe to haue receiued sufficient strength to beare it out, she held on her waie, till she came to the widowes doore, which by the prouision of God she found halfe open. And so putting it from her softely with her hand, she laid in her prouision with as litle noyse, as was possible. Howbeit it was not done so priuily, [Page 128] but that the widowe awaked withal. The which she perceiuing, made awaie as fast as she could. But there came vpon her (euen at that instant) such a feeblenes, and withal such a heauisomenes of bodie, that she was not able to crawle awaie, though her life had lyen on it. Wherefore tur­nyng her selfe to our Lord, with a heauie hart (bicause she feared, lest her being there alone at that tyme of the daie, might be scandalous to weake myndes) and yet on the other side with a cheereful and smyling countenance (bicause she sawe, it was the will and pleasure of her spowse so to dalie with her) betweene game and ear­nest (as it were) she spake vnto him after this maner. O my deere Lord, whie hast thou thus deceiued me? Shall it doe well, (thinkest thou) that all the worlde laugh me to scorne? Is it thy pleasure, that all the neighbours here see, my folie, and hold me for a verie foole and sott? See, o Lord, the daie cometh on fast, which will discouer me to the worlde, and so shall I be taken for a fantastical woman, or peraduenture for worse. O my good Lord, and sweet loue of my hart, hast thou now forgoten thyne old mercies, shewed from tyme to tyme to me thyne vnwor­thie handmaid? Geue me, I beseech thee, so much strength, that I maie be able to returne home to my chamber: and then laie vpon me so much weakenes, as pleaseth thee. With that she en­forced her selfe the best she could, to creepe with hand and foote vpon the grownd: and while [Page 129] she was so creeping, she spake to her bodie after this maner: liue thou, die thou, awaie thou must. Whether thou be able or not able, here is no being. And therefore on a Gods name. And so, what with going, and what with crawling, she wonne a litle grownd. But before she could, get out of sight, the poore widowe came downe, & seeing her in the street, and no moe but her, knewe by her habite, whoe it was, that had done her that charitable pleasure. Thē our Lord heard the groanyng of his deere spowse, and pitying her poore case, gaue her so much strength, that she gate home, before it was brode daie. Where she receiued great cōfort of mynd in cōsideratiō of Gods mercie and louing kindnes towardes her: and withall her ould diseases & feeblenes of bodie, for her further increase of grace & merite.

Chap. 6.

WHile this holie maid was on a ty­me in S. Dominickes Church, there came by her a poore man, and be­sought her for Gods loue, that she would geue him somewhat. To whom, bicause she had nothing there to geue (for it was not her maner to beare neither gold nor syluer about her) she spake verie gently, and praied him, that he would haue so much patience, as to tarrie there, till she might goe home and come againe. The poore man made answere, that he could not [Page 130] tarrie so long: but if she had anie thing there to geue, she should geue it: for otherwise he must needes goe his waie. She was loth, that he should goe from her without somwhat: & therefore be­thought her selfe carefully, what thing she might haue about her, to serue that poore mans need. Anon it came to her mynd, that she had a litle crosse of syluer, that hong by her beades: which she brake of with all speed, & gaue it gladly to the poore man. Who likewise, when he had receiued this almes at her hand, went his waie, and was seene no more to begge that daie, as though his coming had ben for that Crosse only. The night folowing, while this deuout virgin was occupied in praier (after her accustomed maner) our Sa­uiour Christ appeered vnto her, hauing that sa­me Crosse in his hand, set with diuerse and sun­drie precious stones, and said vnto her. Daugh­ther, knowest thou this Crosse? Yea, Lord, said she, I knowe it right well: but it was not so richly decked, when I had it. Then said our Lord to her againe. Yesterdaie thou gauest me this Crosse, with a chereful hart and great charitie: which great loue and charitie is signified by these precious stones. And therefore I promise thee, that at the daie of iudgement I will shewe the same, in the presence of all men and Angels, to the great increase of thyne euerlasting ioye and glorie; For I will not hide, nor suffer to be hiden, such deedes of charitie, as are done by thee. With that this apparition ceased, [Page 131] and left her replenished with vnspeakeable ioye and gladnes. And from that tyme foreward there increased in her a passing great desire of relieuing the poore.

Chap. 7.

AFter that our Lord had thus by his ioyous presence and large promises, al­lured the hart of his spowse to doe yet greater workes of charitie: on a daie, when the diuine seruice was done at the Fryers, and she remained behind alone with one of her sisters to praie; as she was comyng downe from a chapel, that was there ordained for the sisters of penance, our Lord appeered to her in the li­kenes of a poore pilgrime, at the age (as it see­med to her) of two or three and thirtie yeares, halfe naked: and besought her, that she would geue him clothes for the loue of God. Tarrie here a litle while, said she, till I goe to yonder chapel and come againe: and then, God willing, I will helpe thee of clothes. With that she went vp againe to the chapel, and did of her kyrtel: vnder the which she ware a sliueles peticote, which she put off, and came downe againe, and gaue it to the poore man with a glad cheere. When the poore man had receiued that cote, he besought her furthermore, that seeing she had serued his turne of a wollen garment to [Page 132] weare outwardly, she would also be so good, as to geue him some shirt of lynen to weare next his bodie. With a verie good will, said she, come home with me, & I will seeke one out for thee. And so she went on afore, and the poore man came after. When she was come home, she went to the chestes and presses; where the lynen clothes of her Father and brothers were laid vp, and tooke out a shirt and certaine other lynnen clothes, and gaue the same gladly to the poore man. When the poore pilgryme had receiued all those thinges at her hand, he went not his waie, but praied her yet more, that she would geue him slewes to his peticote to couer his ar­mes withal. With a good will, said she: for other­wise, I graunt, this cote were to no great pur­pose. And with that, she went and sought all about for slewes, and at the last sownd a newe cote of a maid seruant, that was in the howse, hanging on a perch, which had neuer ben worne, and tooke of the sleeues from the same, and gaue them cheerefully to the poore pil­grymme. Who receiued those sleeues also than­kefully at her hand, as he had done all the rest, and said vnto her. Maistres, ye haue now clothed me thoroughly: he, for whose loue ye haue done it, thanke you for it. But yet one demaund more I haue to make vnto you. I haue a companion lying in an hospital hereby, who standeth in great need of clothes. If it shall please you to send him anie, I will carrie them vnto him in your [Page 133] behalfe with a verie good will. This newe re­quest troubled her somewhat, and cawsed her to haue a certaine conflicte within her selfe. On the one side she was much moued with cōpassion of that poore man, and had a passing great desire to supplie his necessitie. On the other side she cō ­sidered the murmuring & grudging of as manie as were in the howse: who waxed so weerie of her liberal dealing out of thinges, that, to keepe them from her handes, they began euerie one to keep their apparel & other goods, vnder locke & keye. Againe, she thought, she had done ynough to take awaie the sleeues of the seruantes newe cote, that was neuer worne, & that she could not with discretion take anie more from her, being her selfe also needie & poore. Then began she to reason with her owne selfe, & to discusse in her mynd, whether she might conueniently depart with her owne garmēt, or no. She was much in­clined to doe it, bicause she knewe, that it was a great worke of charitie, and sawe also in reason, that she was better able to bear that lacke of clo­thes, then the pore man was. But cōtrariwise she cōsidered, that if she should spoile her selfe of her clothes and goe naked, she should in so doing, trangresse the rules of common honestie: which might cause great offence in the myndes of as manie as should happen to see her. All the which thinges thus considered and discreetly weighed, she resolued in her selfe, that in this case it was farre better for her, and withall more pleasing [Page 134] to God, to absteine from geuing her almes, then by geuing the same to geue iust occasion of of­fence to her neighbour. And vpon this resolu­tion she spake to the poore man, after a verie gentle and sweet maner, and said. Truly, good man, if I might doe it with honestie, I would spoile my selfe euen of this cote, that I weare, with all my hart, & bestowe it vpon thy compa­nion. But bicause I haue no moe garmentes to put on, but only this, and therefore to geue it awaie to an other, and to lacke my selfe, were not only an vndiscrete part, but also against all honestie & woman-hood: I mustes needes praie thee to hold me excused, for in truth there lac­keth no good will in me, but only abilitie. With that the poore man smyled vpon her, and said. Maistres, I see right well, that if yee had ought to geue, you would gladly geue it. I thanke you for your good will▪ God reward you and keepe you. And so he tooke his leaue of her, and went his waie in such sort, that she ga­thered by certaine signes, that this poore pil­gryme should be he, that was wont to apeere vnto her. But such was her lowlines & base esti­mation of her selfe, that she thought her selfe vn­worthie to receiue anie such cōfort and honour at Gods hand: & therefore with an hūble mynd, she returned to her wōted seruices in the howse, where not withstanding she kept her hart euer­more fixed vpon her deere spowse Iesus Christ. who the next night folowing appeered vnto her [Page 135] againe, as she was praying, in the likenes of that poore man, holding in his hand that cote, that she had geuen him, all decked and set with goodlie perles and precious stones, that shone all ouer the chamber, and said vnto her. Deere daughter, knowest thou this cote? yea Lord, said she, I knowe it verie well: but it was not so richly decked, when it was with me. Then said our Lord to her againe. Yester daie thou gauest me this coate verie freely & charitably, to couer the nakednes of my bodie, and to keepe it from cold and shame. This daie, for recompence of thy great charitie towardes me, I geue thee a cote, that shalbe inuisible to other men, but to thee alone both visible and also sensible, by the vertue whereof thou shalt be defended both in bodie and sowle from all hurtful cold: and with this garment shalt thou be clad, vntill the tyme come, that in the presence of all Angels and Sainctes I shall put on vpon thee, that most blisful and glorious garment of immortalitie in my king­dome. When he had said these wordes, foorth­with he tooke out a cloth of a sanguine colour, with his owne holie handes, out of the wound of his side, shynyng all about and yealding a meruelous beawtiful light, in proportion and quātitie answerable to the measure of her bodie: and putting the same vpon her with his owne handes, said. This garment I geue thee, for all the tyme, that thou shalt liue here vpon the earth in token and pleadge of that immortal garment, [Page 136] that thou shalt receiue at my handes in heauen. And with these wordes that vision ceased, and left her endewed with such a strange grace and qualitie, not only in sowle, but also in bodie, that from that verie instant, that our Lord spake vnto her, she neuer felt alteration in her bodie, but continued euermore in one temper, whether it were winter or somer, hote or cold, wind or raine. And whatsoeuer wether came, she neuer ware moe or fewer clothes, then one only single peticote vnderneth, and one only single kirtel aboue, and that rather for decencie, then for necessitie.

Chap. 8.

THere was in the citie of Sienna a cer­taine poore man, that had dispossessed him selfe of all his worldlie goods for Gods sake, and was in great distresse for lacke of necessarie sustenance. The which thing when this holie maid vnderstood being moued withal compassion she tooke a lynnen bag, the she had, and filled the same with egges, and caried it priuily vnderneth her cote towardes the howse of the said poore man, to relieue him with­al. When she came neere the place, were he dwelt seeing a Church there by, she entred into [Page 137] it first (as her maner was) to doe her deuotion. Where lifting vp her hart to God in praier and comtemplation, she was foorthwith so rauished in spirite, that her bodilie senses failing, she fell downe with all the waight of her bodie on that side, where the bag of egges was. There was also in the bag a thymble, (such as tay­lours do so we withal) which she had forgoten to take out, when she put in the egges. This thymble was broken in three peeces, and the egges remained as whole and as sownd as they were put in, notwithstanding that she had lyen vpon them with the burthen of her whole bo­die, and that for the space of certaine howers. It pleased almightie God to work an other ve­rie strange miracle also to the like effecte: a thing well knowen and testified by as manie as were in the howse; which were to the nomber of twentie persones. It happened, that the howsehold had dronke out a vessel of wine so lowe, that the remnant, that was left, seemed not good ynough to geue to the poore (for her maner was, alwaies to geue out the best in al­mes for Gods sake.) Where vpon she went to the next vessel, and drewe out of that largely for the poore, a nomber of daies together, and was neuer espied by anie of the howsehold. At the length, when the other vessel was quite drawen out, the Butler also went to the vessel, that she had broched, and drewe of it for the whole howse. The howsehold drancke (as [Page 138] they were wont to doe) sufficiently: and she gaue out (as her maner was) plentifully. And yet the wine neuer decreased, nether in quantitie nor qualitie, but kept euermore at one staie, both for fulnes and for freshnes. All the howse had great wonder, how the vessel should continue so long, and withal so good. For they all knewe, that such a vessel was wont to serue the howse, but only xv. or at the vttermost xx. daies. And this had continued a ful moneth, and yet to all their seemyng, was neither the lesse in measure, nor worse in tast: but rather they all confessed, that in their whole life tyme, they had neuer tasted a better wine. But that holie maid made no won­der of it: for she vnderstood, that it was the worke of God, whose propertie it is, to blesse & multiplie the substance of those, that are readie to geue to the poore for his loue. One moneth was fully expired, & an other was well entred: & yet the wine continued still as good and as fresh, as it was the first daie that it was broached. At the length, when the tyme was come, that the grapes were ripe and readie to the presse to make newe wyne, he that had the chiefe charge about the making of the same, tooke order, that this vessel, which had continued so long with old wine, should be emptied, that it might be filled with newe wine. Whereupon one of the seruantes, which thought of all likelyhood, that there had ben litle or nothing left in the vessel, went about to drawe it out into bottels. After the which [Page 139] maner when he had drawen a good deale, he sawe still, that it ran with full tap. At the last they resolued to gawge the vessel, and so to see, what was in it. The which they did: and behold, they fownd the vessel so drie, as if it had stood with­out licour, for the space of manie monethes be­fore. Whereat the whole household was mer­uelously astoined: in so much that they had no greater wonder before to see the cleere colour, freshnes, and long continuance of the wine, then they had now, to see so sodaine an alteration and fayling of the same.

Chap. 9.

AS this holie maid had a passing great desire to relieue the poore in their di­stresse and extremitie: so had she also a meruelous tender care and compassion ouer them, that were sicke and diseased. Concernyng the which vertue she left manie wonderful ex­amples to the wordle; emong others this was one. There was in the citie of Sienna a poore widowe called [...]ecca, who for lacke of necessarie attendance and sustentation in her owne howse, (being verie weake and feeble) was constreined to craue the ordinarie charitie of an hospital, that was there by. Where she was charitably [Page 140] receiued: but the hospital was so poore, that they were not able to make her allowance of such thinges and seruices, as her disease required: and so, her maladie increasing daily more and more, at the length she became disfigured with a verie fowle leprie all ouer her bodie. Which made her so lothsome, to all that were in the hospital, that they eschewed her, and there was none fownd, that would serue her anie longer. Wher­upon they determined to send her to a spittle-house, that was ordained for such Lazarous fol­kes, about a mile from the citie. But before she was remoued, it pleased God, that this holie maid should haue vnderstanding of their deter­mination: Who, being inwardly moued with pitie, went foorthwith to the hospital, where she laie, and serued her both with her bodie and with her goods, mornyng and euenyng proui­ding for her, whatsoeuer she thought necessarie or requisite for a woman in that case, and dres­sing the same for her with her owne handes. And all this she did with as diligent a care and great reuerence, as if she had ben her owne mother. Which charitable and humble seruice, the sicke woman tooke in verie good part at the first, and thought her selfe much beholding vnto her for it. But afterwardes, when she sawe, that the holie maid continued her diligent at­tendance with such regard and loue, as no ser­uant would haue done the like: like a prowd and vnthankeful woman, she tooke all that she did, [Page 141] to be more then duetiful, and looked for it. In so much that, if anie thing were done otherwise, then her pleasure was to haue it done, she would chide with her, and reuile her, and speake such wordes of villanie and reproch vnto her, as no honest woman would haue spoken the like to her bondwoman or slaue, that she had bought with her money. If it happened (as it did some­tymes) that she taried at Church about her de­uotions, longer then her accustomed maner was: the waiward sicke woman would receiue her at her returne, with verie sharp and despiteful termes, saying. Ah ladie queene, yee are welcome. Where hath ladie queene ben so long? It see­meth, that the queene can neuer haue her fill of these Fryars. These and other the like wordes would the old woman powre out against her with great stomacke and choler. But the holie maid gaue her not one euel word to answere, but went about her busines diligently: and, when she sawe her tyme, she would speake to her after a gentle and lowlie maner, saying. Good mother, for Gods loue, haue patience; And if anie thing be amisse, it shalbe amended by and by. And with that she bestirred her selfe about that she had to doe for her, with all possible diligence, and made a fyer, and dressed her meate, and serued her of all necessaries, after such humble sort, and with such sweete wordes, that the impatient woman, that was so caried awaie with her pas­sions, [Page 142] that she seemed rather a raging bedlame, then a resonable creature, had great wonder of her patience. This brawling continued a long tyme, and the more the disease increased vpon the old woman, the more wayward and tedious she waxed: and yet was this holie maid neuer weerie of her lothsome seruice, but held out still, and did all, that was to be done about her, with great loue and reuerence. At the length her mother Lapa, who had a great misliking of that kind of seruice, cried out vpon her, and said. Daughter, it can not be, but that, if thou continue in this maner of seruice, thou must needes in tyme become a leaper: which (thou knowest) I maie not abide to see. And there­fore, I charge thee in anie case to geue it ouer. Whereunto she made answere verie discreetely, and said. Good mother, haue you no feare or doubt of that, for the seruice that I do about this sicke woman, is done by the commaundement of God. And thinke yee not, that he will laie so fowle a plague vpon me for that, that him selfe hath willed me to doe. And so with such wordes she quieted the mynd of her mo­ther. But our Lord, whose pleasure it is to trie his faithful seruantes to the vttermost, permitted, in deed the enemie of mankind to haue such power ouer her bodie, that he in­fected her handes with the leprie: in such sort, that euerie one, that looked vpon her, iudged by and by, that it came to her by the towching [Page 143] of the contagious bodie of that ould woman. Which thing caused manie of them, that spake euel of her before, to speake worse now. Some said this, and some said that: euerie man might speake his fantasie freely: for it seemed, that they were not altogether without some good grownd. And (which was most of all) euerie bodie shuned her companie, as a woman infected with a con­tagious disease. All which disgrace moued her nothing at all, but that she continued her won­ted charitie and seruice towardes the sicke wo­man, and tooke no care, what became of her owne bodie, so long as she might emploie it to the seruice of God. That womans sickenes con­tinued manie daies: but the holie maid thought them verie fewe, by reason of the great loue, that she had to our Lord, whom (she thought) she serued in that sicke woman. At the length, when our Lord had thus sufficiently tried, the loue and constancie of his faithful spowse, he determined that this her paineful and lothsome seruice should haue an end, by the passing of that sicke woman out of this wretched life. At the which passage the holie maid stood by her, and com­forted her with her seruice, with good praiers, with godlie wordes and exhortations, and neuer gaue her ouer vntill the last breath. And when the bodie was dead, she tooke off the clothes, and wasshed it and shrowded it in the winding sheet, and so laid it on the beere, readie to be caried to the place of burial. Where, when the Dirige [Page 144] and other diuine seruice was done, according to the order of the Church, she tooke it off againe, and laid it in the graue, and couered it with earth with her owne handes. That done, be­hold, by euident miracle and worke of almigh­tie God, her handes, which were before fowly disfigured with the leprie, were now at that verie instant become, not only sownd & whole, but also much fairer and cleerer, then anie other part of her bodie, to the sight of as manie as be­held her.

Chap. 10.

THe charitie of this holie maid, shewed vpon that vnthankeful leperous wo­man, was surely verie great: and so was her charitie and patience, shewed towardes a sister of her owne Order, no lesse great and worthie to be remembred. There was emong the sisters of S. Dominickes Order, commonly cal­led the sisters of penance, one sister, namel Palme­rina, who, by reason of certaine workes of cha­ritie, that she did outwardly, shewed to the worlde to be a merciful woman to others, but in deed was vnmerciful both to her selfe & others: as it maie appeere by that, that shalbe here reci­ted. This Palmerina, bare such a deepe malice and [Page 145] hatred in her hart against the holie maid, that it was a great paine to her, not only to see or speak to her, but also to heare her named, or spoken of by others. In so much that, whensoeuer mention was made of her, she could not hold her selfe, but that she must needes breake out into reprochful wordes, into backbiting & slawndering, yea & sometymes to plaine curssing and banning. Whē this holie maid vnderstood that, she bare her selfe cōtrariwise verie lowlie and louingly towardes her, and did (what in her laie) to wynne her loue with gentle behauiour & sweet wordes. But the more hūble she shewed her self & ready to please, the more did the proud woman despise her and set her at naught. The which when she sawe, ta­king the disease of that womans mynd to be in­curable by ought that man could doe, & therfore resoluing to leese no more tyme about her, she turned her selfe to God (who only is the phisitiō in such desperate cases) & besought him most in­stantly, that he would take mercie on her sister, & molifie her hart. This praier was made with such feruour & vehemēcie of spirite, that it perced the heauens and sownded into the eares of almighty God: who, to cure that froward womā finally of her synful disease of mynd, smote her mercifully with a certaine grieuous infirmity of bodie. Whē the holy maid heard tell, that Palmerina was so dā ­gerously sicke, she was a heauie womā for her. For she sawe, that, if she should depart the worlde in that state, her soule was lost euerlastingly. Which [Page 146] consideratiō wrought so in her, that she determi­ned to leaue nothing vndone, that might possibly be done, for the recouerie of that sowle. And so she went to her, and with verie sweet and louelie wordes, offred both her selfe & all that she had, to be at her deuotion and seruice. But the churlish woman was so maliciously bent against her, that she not only refused al this courtesie, but also reui­led her, vsing most vnseemelie and reprochful lā ­guage against her, and in the end bad her goe out of her chāber, with great threates & thundering wordes. All which vilanie the holy maid bare with great meekenes & patiēce: and continuyng her wonted charitie and cōpassion towardes that furious womā, turned her selfe to God againe in praier. In this meane tyme that wretched wo­mans sickenes, by the diuine prouidence and dis­position of God, increased so vehemently vpon her, that, (without making anie reconciliation with God or the wordle) she drewe on verie fast to death, both of bodie & soule. The which thing when the holie maid vnderstood, her hart being thoroughly perced with the dartes of compas­sion, she shut her selfe vp in her Cell, and there casting her selfe downe prostrate vpon the grownd, with much sobbing, weeping, and lamentation, she made her praier vnto God after this maner. O Lord my God & Maker, maie it be, that I wretched creature shold be borne into the worlde to this end, that sowles, which thou hast created to thine owne ymage & likenes, should by anie [Page 147] occasion of me be condemned to euerlasting paines? Canst thou (my good Lord and deere spowse) suffer, that I, which ought to be to my sister an instrument of euerlasting saluation, should now become an occasion of her euerla­sting woe and calamitie? Turne awaie that dreadful iudgement, O Lord, I beseech thee for thy mercies sake. It had ben better for me, that I had neuer ben borne, then that the sowles, which thou hast redeemed with the price of thy most precious blood, should through me be brought againe into that miserable captiuitie of our aun­cient enemie the Deuel. O Lord, are these the promises, which thou madest vnto me, when thou diddest saie, that I should be an instrument and meane, to wynne manie sowles to thee? Are these the fruites of life, which I thyne vnworthie hand-maid should bring foorth to the behoofe of others? There is no doubt, O Lord, but that my synne is the cawse of all this, out of the which I can not looke to receiue anie better fruite, then this is. But yet, O Lord, I am right well assured, that the botomles sea of thy mercies, can not be drayned or in anie part diminished: and therefore I set my selfe here before thee with a great affiance, and humbly beseech thee, that thou wilt vowch­safe to cast downe the eyes of thy clemen­cie vpon this wretched creature, thy seruant, my sister This I most instantly craue of thee, o most sweet comforter of all afflicted hartes, not [Page 148] trusting in anie worke or merite of myne owne, but only in thy wonted mercie and goodnes. These and other the like wordes did the holie virgin vse in her praier (as she declared after­wardes to her ghostly Father) which she powred out before God, rather with feruour of desire and inward affection, then with outward noy­se and sownd of voice. And our Lord, to moue her to further compassion, and to make her yet more earnest in praier, gaue her to vn­derstand and see, the euident and imminent peril that her wretched sister was in: and she heard it pronownced in plaine termes, that the iustice of God could not beare, but that such an obsti­nate malice and hardnes of hart, must needes be punished. The which horible sentence, geuen vpon her sister Palmerina (whose sowles health she tendred exceedingly) strooke her to the verie hart so mightily, that she fell downe to the grownd againe, and there lying prostrate, gro­ned vnto almightie God after a most lamentable sort, saying. O Lord God almightie, Father of mercies, and onlie helper in all extremities; I am right well contented, yea I most humbly craue it at thy hand, that thou wilt vowchsafe to laie all the paine dwe to this wretched wo­mans synnes vpon my backe: punish me for them, for I am the cause of them, and not she: Wherefore I most instantly beseeche thee, beate me, but spare her. And with that she raised vp her hart to God with a greater affiance, and said [Page 149] furthermore. O merciful Lord, I will neuer rise out of this place, vntill thou shewe mercie to my sister. Wherefore I here groane and crie vnto thee, O lord, euen from the verie botome of myne hart, beseeching thee by thyne vnspeaka­ble goodnes, by thine infinite mercie, and by the price of thy most precious blood, shed for the redēption of mankind, that thou wilt not suffer my sisters soule to depart out of her bodie, vntill the tyme that thou haue graunted her the grace of due penance and contrition for all her synnes. Thus did the holie maid make intercession to al­mighty God, for the recouery of her sisters soule: & her praier was (as the euent shewed) of merue­lous great force & vertu. For the sicke womā laie in extremes three daies and three nightes, draw­ing on continually in such sort that as manie as were presēt, looked euerie hower, whē she should passe out of this wordle: (for they all saw, that she was staied in that paineful state of life, not by any strength of nature, but by some secret & extraor­dinarie power.) All the which tyme the deuout virgin cōtinued in most earnest & feruēt praiers for her, and neuer gaue ouer, vntil she had with her teares and humilitie (as it were) wrested the sword of Gods iustice out of his almightie hand, and obteined for that wretched woman so much mercie & grace, that she might first see the defor­mitie of her synnes▪ then vnderstand the dreadful decree of Gods iustice against her for the same, & last of all be hartily sorie & repentant for her life [Page 150] past, with a sure hope of forgiuenes by the mercy of God through the merites of the most precious blood & death of our Sauiour Christ. This blessed alteratiō was reuealed by God to the holie maid also: who vpon the vnderstanding of the same, went foorthwith to her sicke sisters chamber to comfort her. Whether when she was come, the sicke woman which was now verie weake in bodie, but well strengthened in spirite, made signes of great reuerence and ioye: and partly with woordes (as well as she could) partly with tokens and gestures of bodie and countenance, she lamented her vncharitable demeanour tow­ardes her and besought her of mercy and par­don. That done she made her cōfession with great humilitie and contrition & so receiuing the Sa­cramentes & rightes of holie Church, she yealded vp her soule to God. At what tyme it pleased al­mightie God to shewe to the holie virgin what a blesful & beautiful state that saued sowle was in: which (as she declared afterwardes to her ghost­lie father) was so great, that no tongue of man is able to expresse it. And yet was not this that beawtie that she should receiue afterwardes in the blesse of heauen, but only that godlie state, that the sowle had in her first creation, and recei­ued againe at the tyme of her Baptisme. Thē said our Lord to the holie maid. How saiest thou, my deere daughter, is not this a faire and good­lie sowle, which through thy paines and diligēce is now recouered out of the hādes of the enemie? [Page 151] What man or woman would refuse to take paines for the wynning of such a beawtiful creature? If I, which am the most high and so­ueraigne beawtie, and of whom proceedeth all maner of beawtie, was notwithstāding so ouer­come with the loue and beawtie of mans sowle, that I refused not to come downe from heauen, to clad my selfe with the simple weede of mans bodie, in the same to susteine labours, and repro­ches for the space of manie daies and yeares, and in the end to shed myne owne blood for his re­demption, (& yet had I no need of mans sowle, but was most sufficiently and most perfectly blessed in my selfe:) how much more ought you to labour one for an other, and doe, what in you lieth, for the recouerie of such a noble and excel­lent creature? For this cause haue I shewed thee the beawtie of this sowle, that hereafter thou mightest both thy selfe be the more earnest about the wynnyng of sowles, and also procure others to doe the like. With that she thanked our Lord in most humble maner, and besought him fur­thermore, that he would vowchsafe to geue her a newe grace; which was, that she might from that tyme foreward, be able to see the state and condicions of all such sowles, as should by occa­sions, haue anie conuersation or dealing about spiritual matters with her: that by the sight of the same, she might be the more prouoked to procure their saluation. Vnto the which de­maund our Lord made answere after this maner. [Page 152] Daughter, bicause thou hast forsaken all carnal conuersation for my sake, and hast by all meanes laboured to vnite thy selfe to me in spirite, which am the most excellent and soueraigne spirite: therefore I here make thee a full graunt, that from this verie instant, thy soule shalbe endewed with such a gracious light, that thou shalt see and behold, both the beawtie, and also the deformitie of euerie sowle that is presented before thee. And as hitherto thou hast seene the proportion and qualitie of bodies, with thy bodilies eyes: euen so from this tyme foreward, thou shalt see the condicions of sowles, with the spiritual eye of thy sowle, not only of such as shalbe present be­fore thee, but also of all other, for whose sowles health thou shalt make intercession to me, though thou neuer see them with thy bodilie eyes.

Chap. 11.

THere was emong the sisters of penance one sister called Andrea: who had vpon her brest a verie lothsome sore, commonly called a Canker. This sore had fretted and eaten so much flesh rownd about, and the corruption of the same yealded such an horrible sauour, that none might come neere for stench. [Page 153] By reason whereof there was none fownd, that would attend vpon her in her sickenes. The which thing when the holie maid vnderstood, she went out of hand to visite her; and, seeing her vtterly forsaken and destitute of all succour and comfort, she made her selfe well assured, that the prouidence of God had reserued that sister for her keeping. And so accepting the charge of her, as at Gods hand, she began to speake com­fortable wordes vnto her, and to make her a free offer of her owne person, to attend and ser­ue her to the vttermost of her power: (which made the widowe a glad woman.) The holie maid therefore set her selfe to the seruice of that poore woman: she tooke care for her, that she might haue, whatsoeuer was necessarie or requi­site for a woman in that case; when tyme was, she opened her sore, & clensed it of all the fowle matter; she was shed it and wypt it, and couered it againe with plaisters and cleane clothes: and in all this, she neuer shewed so much as one litle token of lothsomenes, but did euerie thing with such diligence and cheerefulnes, that the sicke sister was astoined to see so great loue and cha­ritie in a maid of those yeares. But the malicious feend, who hath great enuie at all workes of cha­ritie, bent him selfe to doe all that in him laie, to disannull, if it were possible, if not, at the least to hinder this godlie and merciful enterprise, so much as might be. And first of all, vpon a daie, as the holie maid was about to open the sore to [Page 154] dresse it there came out such an horribile stench, that she could hardly beare it, but that she must needes vomite. The which thing when she perceiued, she entred into a passing great choler and displeasure against her owne skeymish bodie ane stomake, and said to her selfe. Ah vile and wretched flesh, dost thou loath thy sister, whom our Lord hath bought so deerely, euen with the price of his owne most precious blood? The daie maie come when thou also maiest fall into the like sickenes, or peraduenture worse. As I am a Christian woman thou shalt abide for it. And with that, she bowed downe, and held her mowth and nose ouer the sore so long, vntill at the length it seemed, that she had com­forted her stomake, & quite ouercome the skey­mishnes, that she felt before. All the which tyme he sicke sister cried out vnto her, and said. Good daughter, stand vp: good daughter, geue ouer, cast not thy selfe awaie: endanger not thy bodie with this infectuous sauour. But she would ne­uer geue ouer, vntill she had ouercome both the tew lines of her owne stomake, and also the ten­tation of the ghostlie enemie. When the suttle serpent sawe, that this his assault was thus re­pelled: being vtterly in despaire of anie better successe against that holie virgin, (which stood euermore like a strong fortresse well furnished & defenced) he deuised to laie his batterie to the weake woman, (whom he knewe to be of lesse experience, and therefore lesse circumspecte in [Page 155] such matters (and so to make his entrie vpon them both together. He began to sowe in the hart of the sicke woman diuerse and sundrie sur­mises against her, by craftie meanes bringing her in great gelowsie and disliking of all that she did: by reason wherof in processe of tyme she waxed meruelous weerie of her, and might not well abide to see her. Which weerisomenes in­creasing in her daily more and more engendred a certaine malice, and malice, in tyme bred a plaine hatred. Now this malice and hatred had in continuance by litle and litle so cor­rupted her iudgement, that she not only suspe­cted of her the worst that anie euel mynd could ymagin, but also bleleeued firmely, that all such ymaginations were most certaine and vndoub­ted truthes in so much that, whensoeuer the ho­lie maid was anie where out of her sight, she beleeued assuredly, that she was about some fowle acte of fleshlie pleasure. The which thing though the innocent virgin vnderstood verie well, yet did she shewe her selfe no lesse louing, meke, & seruiceable about her, then she was wont to be before. But the more meekenes and dili­gence the good seruant of Christ vsed towardes that froward old woman, the more testie and cholericke waxed she against her by the instiga­tion of the deuel: in so much that at the length she came to that, that she would no longer keepe her conceiued suspicions vnder the couert of pri­uate gelowsie but without all modestie & shame [Page 156] gaue them out in plaine and brode termes, to as manie, as would geue eare to her slawnderous talke. This fowle brute being once thus raised, it went on from one to another, vntil in the end it came to the eares of the sisters: who, to vnderstād the verie original of the rumour, went to the chamber, where the sicke sister laie, and exami­ned her of the matter. She auowched stowtely to them, so much as she had reported to others before, and accused the maid constantly of actual incontinēcie & vncleannes. Whereat they were verie much astoined at the first; but yet, wheig­hing the age, behauiour, & constācie of the accu­ser, they gaue credit to her wordes, & thereupon, calling the maid before them they gaue her verie rough and sharpe language, rebuking her with meruelous vile and reprochful wordes, and as­king her, how she was caried awaie and brought to commit such a synful and vncleane acte. Wherunto she made answere with great humi­litie and patience, saying no moe wordes, but only these. Truly, good mothers and sisters, by the grace of our Lord Iesus Christ I am a maid. And, whatsoeuer they said to her, she gaue them none other word to answere, but only this. Truly I am a maid. Truly I am a maid: neuer vtterring so much as one word, that might seeme to touch her accuser. Vpon whom she attended and serued with as great loue and diligence, as if there had neuer passed anie such matter betweene them. And yet was she sorie at [Page 157] the verie hart, for the slaunder and infamie, that was raised vpon her. Wherefore, when she had done, what was to be done about the sicke wo­man, she retired her selfe for comfort (as her ma­ner was in all aduersites) into her chamber: and there, casting her selfe downe prostrate vpon the ground, she opened the griefe of her hart to al­mightie God, more with gronyng of hart, then with sound of voice, after this maner. O almigh­tie God, my deere Lord & spowse, thou knowest verie well, what a tender thing the good name of virgins is, (especially of them that haue vowed their virginitie to thee) and how much subiecte they are to the violent strokes of slawnderous tonges. And that was the cause, why thy proui­dent wisedome disposed, that thy most glorious mother should be committed to the charge of Io­seph, who was called, and was in deed her hus­band, not for anie acte of matrimonie, but to keepe her name of virginitie from slander. Thou knowest, O Lord, that all this slawnder, that is raised vpō me, is wrought by the father of lying: who hath done this, to withdrawe & hinder me from this charitable woorke, that thou hast ap­pointed me to doe, & I haue willingly takē vpon me for thy loue. Wherefor I most hūbly beseech thee, O my deere Lord, most mightie protectour of all innocentes, that thou wilt not suffer this wicked serpent, whom thou hast troden vnder foote in the tyme of thy sacred passion, to haue the mastrie ouer me. When the holie maid had thus [Page 158] made a long praier to our Lord, with much in­ward gronyng and plentie of teares: behold, our Lord appeered to her, holding two crownes in his hādes, one in his right hand of gold, all decked with ritch perles and precious stones, an other in his left hand of verie sharpe thornes: & said these wordes vnto her. Deere daughter, it is so, that thou must needes be crowned with these two crownes at sundry tymes. Choose therefor, whe­ther thou haue lieffer to be crowned with the sharpe crowne of thorne in this life, and that other to be reserued for thee in the life to come: or elswhether thou like better to haue this good­lie golden crowne in this life, & that other sharpe crowne in the life to come. To this demand the hūble & discrete virgin made answere after this maner. Lord, said she, thou knowest verie well, that I haue resigned my will wholly to thee, & haue made a full resolution to doe all thinges ac­cording to thy direction: and therfore I dare not choose anie thing, vnlesse I maie knowe, that the same shall stand with thy most blessed will and pleasure. Neuertheles, because thou hast willed me to make answere concernyng this choise, that thou hast here made vnto me, I saie thus: that I doe choose in this life euermore to be conformed and made like to thee, my Lord & Sauiour, & cherefully to beare Crosses & thornes for thy loue, as thou hast done for myne. With that she reached out her handes Iustely, and tooke the crowne of thornes of our Lordes handes, [Page 159] and put the same vpon her owne head with such a strength and violence, that the thornes perced her head rownd about, in so much that for a long space after she felt a sensible paine in her head by the pricking of those thornes, as she declared afterwardes to her ghostlie Father. Then our Lord said to her. Daughter, all thinges are in my power. And as I haue suffred this slawnder to be raised against thee by the deuel and his membres: so is it in my power to cease the same, when I will. Continue thou therefore in that holie seruice that thou hast begon, and geue no place to the enemie, that would let thee from all good workes. I will geue thee a perfecte victo­rie ouer thyne enemie, and will bring to passe, that, whatsoeuer he hath imagined against thee, it shall all be turned vpon his owne head, to thy great ioye, and his great paine. Thus was she well comforted againe, and so continued still at the seruice of that sicke woman. In this meane tyme the slaunderous rumour was bruted, and, came to her mothers eares. Who for her selfe made no doubt at all of her daughters innocēcie (for she knewe manie thinges, that the worlde knewe not) and yet she could not but take it verie heauelie, when she heard tell that such a slawnder was raised vpon her. The griefe wher­of so ouercame her mynd, that she flang to her daughter with great heat and vehemencie of spirite, and began with her after this maner. How often tymes haue I told thee, that thou [Page 160] shouldest no more serue yonder stinging old croyne? See now, what reward she geueth thee for all thy good seruice, she hath brought vp a foule slaunder vpon thee emong all thy sisters: which God knoweth, whether thou shalt euer be able to rid thy selfe of, so lōg as thou liuest. If euer thou serue her againe after this daie, or if euer thou come, where she is: neuer take me for thy mother. For I tell thee plaine, I will neuer knowe thee for my daughter. These and other the like wordes did the mother vtter in great heate & choler, whereat the daughter at the first was somewhat astoined. But after a litle tyme, when she had gathered her selfe together, she went to her mother, and kneeling downe before her with great reuerence, she spake these wor­des. Sweete mother, thinke you, that our Lord would be pleased with vs if wee should leaue the workes of mercie vndone, bicause our neigbour sheweth him selfe vnthankeful towardes vs? When our Sauiour Christ hong on the Crosse, and heard there the reprochful talke of that vn­grateful people rownd about, did he in regard of their cruel wordes geueouer the charitable worke of their redemption? Good mother, you knowe verie well, that if I should leaue this old sicke woman, she were foorthwith in great dan­ger to perish for lacke of keeping: bicause she should not find anie, that would come neere her, & do such seruice, as is requisite to be done about a woman in this case. And so should I be the [Page 161] occasion of her death. She is now a litle deceiued by the ghostlie enemie: but she maie hereafter by the grace of God come to acknowledge her fault and be sorie for the same. With such wordes she qualified her mothers mynd & gate her blessing: and so returned againe to the seruice of the sicke woman. About whom she did all thinges with great diligence & loue, neuer shewing neither in wordes nor in countināce so much as anie token of discontētantiō or displeasure. In so much that the sicke sister seeing her demeanour, was verie much astoined & withal ashamed of that she had done, and so began to haue great sorrowe at hart and repentance for the slaunder, that she had rai­sed vpon her. Then also it pleased our Lord to shewe his mercie towardes his faithful spowse, & to restore her againe to her good fame & estima­timatiō after this maner. On a daie the holie mai­de went to the sicke sisters chamber to serue her, as she was wont to doe. At what tyme, as she was comyng towardes her bed, where she laie, to doe some thing that was to be done about her; behold the sicke woman sawe a meruelous goodlie light commyng downe from heauen, which filled all her chamber, and was so beautifull and comfortable, that it made her vtterly to for­get all the paines of her disease. What that sight might meane, she could not conceiue. But, looking about her here and there, she beheld the maidens face gloriously transfor­med: the maiestie wherof was so strang, that she [Page 162] seemed to her rather an Angel of heauen, then anie earthlie creature. And this beautiful light, enuironed the holie virgins bodie rownd about. The which brightnes the more the old woman beheld, the more did she condemne the malice of her owne hart and tongue, in that she had conceiued and vttered so fowle matter, as she had done, against such an excellent and pure creature, as the holie maid then shewed to be. This vision continued a good tyme: and at the length, when it ceased, left the sicke woman both in sorrowe, and also in comfort. In sorrowe, bicause on the one side she sawe, what a heynous synne she had committed in dissamyng that in­nocent virgin. In comfort, bicause on the other side she sawe the mercie of God freely and franc­kely offred vnto her. The which thing so molli­fied her hart, that with much sobbing & weeping she confessed her fault to the holie maid, and be­sought her of pardon. When the good virgin sawe the hūble maner of her repentance and sub­mission, she likewise verie amiably tooke the old woman in her armes, & kissed her, and spake very sweet and comfortable wordes vnto her, saying. Good mother, I haue no displeasure in the worl­de against you, but only against our enemie the Deuel, by whose malice & suttiltie, I knowe, all this is wrought: but, rather I haue to thanke you with all my hart, for you haue put me in mynd to haue a more careful and vigilant re­gard to my selfe, and so doing you haue [Page 163] turned the malicious drifte of the feend to my further good and commoditie. With such sweet speeches she comforted the sicke sister, and then she set her selfe to doe all such seruices, as were wont to be done about her. And when she had done all, she tooke her leaue verie gently (as her maner was) and so retired her selfe to her cham­ber, to geue God thankes so the prosperous suc­cesse, that she had had in this matter, and to enter into her accustomed exercise of praier & medi­tation. In this meane tyme the old woman, who had a great care to restore the innocent virgin to her good name againe, when anie of those came to her, before whom she had made that slaunderous report, tooke occasion to vnburthen her conscience, and confessed openly with great lamentation and teares, that whatsoeuer disho­nestie she had anie tyme reported by that holie maid, she had ben induced to report it by the crafte of the deuel, & not by anie thing that euer she sawe or knewe in her. And therfore she cried them all mercie, and besought them for chari­tie to forgeue her. She affirmed furthermore, that she was able to make good proofe, that the holie maid was not only free from all suspicion of anie vncleannes of bodie, but also endued with manie high & singular graces of God, and that she was in deed a verie pure virgin and a Saincte. Thus much, said she; I speake not vpon heresaie or opinion, but vpon verie certaine knoweledge. Then certaine of the elder and [Page 164] sadder women talked with her secretly, and re­quired to vnderstand, what certaine tokens and knowledge of holines she had in the maid. Whe­reupon she declared vnto them so much as hath ben here receited before. And said furthermore, verie constantly and with great feruour of spi­rite, that in all her life tyme she neuer knewe, what true sweetnes of sowle and spiritual com­fort meant, vntill that tyme, when she sawe the holie maid so transfourmed and enuironed ro­und about with that heauenly and vnspeakeable light: the beawtie and brightnes wherof was so great, that no tongue was able to expresse it. This testimonie of the sicke woman was spread allouer the citie: by reason wherof the fame of the blessed virgin, and the opinion of her rare vertue and holines was so much increased, as the malice of the deuel had thought to haue obs­cured the same by this false treacherie. But in all this, as she was nothing deiected by the raising of that slanderous reporte: so was she nothing puffed vp with pride for all the honour that the wordle gaue her: but acknowledging humblie all vertues and holines to be the gyftes of God, she continued still in her foremer state,, at the ser­uice of that sicke woman. But the ghostlie ene­mie, whose malice ceaseth not, though he sawe, that he had had verie euel lucke in all that he had euer attempted against her before yet like an earnest gamester, he thought, he would aduen­ture one cast more, as it were vpon desperation. [Page 165] On a tyme, as the holie maid was dressing the old womans sore, by the malicious working of the feend, there issued out of it such a loathsome and horrible stench, that she was vpon the point to haue cast vp all that was in her bodie. The which when she sawe perceuing that it was the practise of that venemous serpent, she entred in­to an earnest displeasure against her owne flesh, and spake to her selfe with great vehemencie of spirite, saying. Ah wretched and caraine flesh, dost thou loath thyne euen Christian? I shall make thee, not only to endure the sauour of it, but also to reciue it within thee With that she tooke all the wasshing of the sore, together with the corrupt matter and filth; and going aside put it all into cup, and drancke it vp lustely. And in so doing, she ouercame at one tyme, both the skeymishnes of her owne stomake, and malice of the Deuel. This was told afterwardes to her ghostlie Father in her presence, and she confes­sed, that it was all true; and said furthermore, that she could not remember, that she had euer eaten or droncken such a pleasant and deli­cate meate or drincke, as that seemed to be, in all her life. The next night folowing after this glorious victorie, our Sauiour Christ appee­red vnto her, and showed her his handes, feete and side, & in them imprinted the fiue woundes, of his most bitter passion, & said vnto her. Deere daughter, manie are the battailes, that thou hast susteined for my loue: and great are the victories [Page 166] that thou hast atchieued through my grace and assistance. For the which I beare thee great good will and fauour. But especially that drincke, that thou tookest yester daie for my sake, liked me passingly well: in the which, bicause thou hast not only despised the delite of the flesh, cast be­hind thy backe the opinion of the wordle, and vtterly subdued thyne owne nature: I will geue thee a drincke that shall passe in sweetnes and pleasure all the licours, that the wordle is wont or able to geue. With that he reached out his ar­me, and tooke her about the necke, and brought her mouth softely to the sacred wound of his side, and said vnto her. Drincke daughter, drinc­ke thy fill at the verie founteine of life. This drincke, shall replenish thy soule with vnspekea­ble sweetnes in such sort, that it shall abound and ouerslowe into thy bodie also, which thou hast so vtterly despised for my loue. Then the holie maid set her mouth to, with great greedines, and drewe out of that founteine of euerla­sting saluation the licour of life. And so she continued sucking a good while, not only with the mouth of her bodie, but also (and that much more) with the mouth of her soule: vntill at the length (when his holie will and pleasure was) she gaue ouer, feeling her selfe in a meruelous blesful state. For she had dronc­ke her fill, and yet was nothing glutted, but rather thirstie and desirous to drincke still: [Page 167] Which thirst and desire was no paine at all to her, but rather a passing great delite & pleasure. After this tyme the holie maid was so repleni­shed with heauenlie grace that she neither did, nor might eate, her bodilie meate in such sort, as she was wont to doe before.

Chap. 12.

AFter that the faithful disciple of Christ had thus by the grace of God ouercome diuerse and sundrie tentations; being now thoroughly tried like fine gold in the for­nace of tribulation, there remained nothing els, but only to receiue the crowne of iustice in life euerlasting. But bicause the diuine prouidence of God had so disposed of her, that she should yet remaine in this life a litle while, for the benefite of others: (in the which tyme she was not able to receiue the fruition of that endles blesse that is prepared for the tyme to come: and yet our Lord of his goodnes would not suffer her to continue anie longer in this present life without some de­gree or state of blessednes) he gaue her a certaine tast or pledge of that blesful state, that she was to receiue in the other life, euen in this vale of mi­serie. [Page 168] And he did it after this maner. On a tyme, while she was praying in her chamber, our Lord appeered vnto her, and spake after this maner. My deere daughter Catherine, I geue thee now to vnderstand, that the rest of thyne abode in this wordle shalbe full of such strang and vnwonted gyftes of my grace, that it shall cause diuerse and sundrie effectes in the hartes of men. Simple and ignorant persones shalbe greatly astoined to see the thinges, that shalbe wrought by thee. Carnal men, and such as haue litle expe­rience in spiritual matters, shalbe in danger to fall quite from their faith. Yea and manie of those also, that are good and vertuous, seeing certaine tokens of my passing great loue towar­des thee (such as haue not lightly ben heard of) and withal the wonderful strangenes of the thinges, that thou shalt worke, shall suppose, that all is but deceite and illusion. For I will endue thy soule with such abundance of grace, that it shall redound into thy bodie also: by reason wherof thou shalt lead such a meruelous kind of life, as the wordle hath not oftentymes seene or heard tell of. Againe, I will enkendle in thine hart such a fyerie zeale, both of myne honour and of the saluation of soules, that thou shalt in a maner forget thyne owne kind, and alter the wonted order of thy whole conuersa­tion. For thou shalt not from hence foorth shon­ne the compaine of men and women, as thou hast hitherto but rather to wynne them to God, [Page 169] thou shalt presse in emong them, and labour to the vttermost of thy power. Of this maner of life manie a one shall take occasion of slaunder and offence, and thou shalt be gainesaid of ma­nie: that the thoughtes of manie hartes maie be opened. But in anie case, see that thou be no­thing afraid or troubled with anie of these thin­ges: For I will be with thee alwaies, and will deliuer thee from lying lippes and slaunderous tongues. Folowe therfore freely the guydance of my holie spirite, and labour diligently in this charitable woorke, wherin I haue apointed thee. For by thee I haue determined, to deli­uer manie soules out of the dragons mouth, and to bring them to my euerlasting rest in heauen. These and other the like wordes spake our Lord to her, and repeted the same againe and againe, and specially that word, where he bad her, that she should not be afraid or dismaid. Wherunto the holie maid made answere with great humi­litie and perfecte obedience saying. Thou art my Lord and my God, and I thy creature and vn­worthy hand maid: thy will be done in all thin­ges. Only this, O Lord, I beseech thee, remem­ber me according to the multitude of thy mer­cies, and helpe me. And with that the vision ceased: and the blessed virgin conferred those comfortable wordes of our Sauiout in her hart, easting earnestly with her selfe, what that gra­cious alteration might meane. From that tyme foreward the grace of God increased daily in [Page 170] her hart so much & the gyftes of the holie Ghost replenished her soule in such aboundant maner, that she was her selfe astoined at it; and, by rea­son of that passing great increase of spiritual ioye and comfort that she felt in her soule, her bodie, being not able to beare it, waxed feeble & faint. Her hart was wholly caried vp into God, and that with such a vehemēcie and feruour of loue, that she could not endure anie tyme without thinking and meditating vpon his most noble workes, and endles mercies towardes her selfe and all mankind. The force of the which loue, so ouercame the natural powers of her bodie, that she languished and decaied in strength: and could find none other remedie for that sickenes, but only to runne vnto God with an amorous affe­ction, and to powre out her hart befor him with great aboundance of teares, and so to renewe her selfe as it were in the forge and fyer of loue. At the length, it pleased our Lord to geue her to vnderstand by the secret instincte of his holie spirite, that the most soueraigne medicine for that disease was, often tymes to receiue the blessed Sacrament of the aulter. Where she should haue the ioyful fruition of her loue, not in such sort, as she should haue it afterwardes in the blesse of heauen, but yet so, as that she should find her selfe satisfied in some dergree for the ty­me. Now, after that she had vsed for a certaine tyme to comunicate euerie daie (as she did vn­lesse she were letted by sickenes or by some other [Page 171] necessarie occasion) she had at the length such a passing great longing and (as it were) an impa­tient desire to receiue the blessed Sacrament, that if she were enforced by anie such vrgēt necessitie to abstaine but only one daie, it seemed, that her body fainted sēsibly & failed: forsomuch as, being now fully accorded with the soule, it had abādo­ned the natural powers & senses, and so receiued nourishment and sustentation, not of the meates that the bodie is wont to be fed withal (which did her more harme then good) but of the foode of the soule, which is the grace of God: which grace was so abōdant in her soule, that it redoun­ded into her bodie, and by miracle tempered that wasting heat, that is wont to consume the ra­dical moisture. Her ghostlie Father, examinyng her vpon this point, asked, whether she had euer anie appetite to eate or no. Wherunto she made answere, that she was fully satisfied with the holy Sacrament, and had none other appetite. Then he asked her yet further, in case by occasion she absteined from receiuing the blessed Sacrament, whether she were then hungrie or no. To that likewise she answered and said, that the only presence of the Sacrament, did satisfie her, and not only the Sacrament, but the priest also, that had touched the Sacrament, did satifie and com­fort her in such sort, that she could not so much as thinke of anie other meate. And in deed it was well knowen to as manie as liued with her from the begynnyng of Lent vntill the Ascension [Page 172] daie, she continued in verie good liking without receiuing anie maner of bodily food or sustenan­ce in the worlde. And vpon that daie by com­maundement of God, she tooke only a litle bread and a fewe herbes: for her stomake might not brooke anie deintie or fine meates. After that she obserued a simple maner of fasting for a tyme, vntill at the length by litle and litle, she came againe to her old maner of abstinence, which was to eate nothing at all. And so she passed ouer her life in a continual and euident miracle, verifying that saying of the holie Scripture, that man liueth not only by bread, but by euerie word that cometh out of our Lordes mowth. Her ghostlie Father testified, that he sawe her him selfe (and that not once or twise, but often tymes) when, continuyng after this sort with­out anie maner of sustenance, vnlesse it were a litle water, she became so weake, that as manie as were about her looked euerie hower, when she would geue vp the ghost. At what tyme, if occasion were ministred to wynne a sowle to God, or to doe anie other charitable worke to the honour of God, they all sawe to their great astonishment, that she was sodainly al­tered in the state of her bodie in such sort, that she was able to rise and goe without anie token of weakenes or weerines, and also to endure great labour in doing that good worke, that she tooke in hand for Gods sake. And those that went with her, hauing their perfecte health and [Page 173] strength, could hardly folowe her here & there, but that they must needes be more weerie, then she shewed to be. Which made them all to con­fesse, that it was the almightie power of God, that susteined her, and not anie naturall force.

Chap. 13.

THis streight and vnwonted maner of Abstinence, was to the holie maid an occasion of great vnquietnes and trou­ble, both by them that liued with her in howse, and also by others: who, seeing the order of her conuersation, to be so farre aboue the common course of mans life, perswaded them selues, and trauailed much to perswade her also, that it was not the gracious gyfte of God, but only a suttle deceite & tentation of the Deuel. With this er­rour were a great nōber caried awaie, & emong others her owne ghostly Father: who, imagining all this to be nothing els, but only a craftie illusiō of Satan transforming him selfe into an Angel of light, commaunded her to eate her meate, and not to geue anie credit to such deceueable visiōs. Wherunto she made answere and said, that she found by experience, that she was more healthie in bodie, when she receiued no bodilie sustenan­ce at all, then she was, when she did eate. The ghostlie Father was nothing moued with that [Page 174] talke, but taking all to be but only excuses, he commaunded her precisely, that she should eate. Then she, to shewe her selfe a true daughter of obedience, did as she was commaunded, and began to eate her meate, vntill by eating she be­came so weake and wasted, that she was at the verie point of death without anie hope of reco­uerie, vnlesse she returned againe to her former Abstinence. Wherupon she sent for her ghostlie Father, and said vnto him. Father, said she, I praie you tell me one thing: in case I should by ouer much fasting kill my selfe, should I not be gyltie of myne owne death? yes, said he. Againe, said she, I beseech you resolue me in this. Whe­ther do you take it to be a greater synne to die by ouermuch eating, or by ouermuch Abstinence? By ouermuch eating, said he. Then sir, said she, seeing it is so, that you see by experience, that I am verie weake, and euen at deathes doore by reason of my eating: Whie doe you not forbid me to eate, as you would forbid me to fast in the like case? To that reason he could make none answere: and therfore seeing by verie euident to kens, that she was neere the point of death, he made her this final resolution, saying. Daugh­ter, doe as God shall put in your mynd, folowe the guydance of his holie spirite, & praie for me; For, I see, the thinges that our Lord worketh in you, are verie strange, and not to be measured by the common rule.

Chap. 14.

THis strange and vnwonted maner of life, as it was to some of the better sort an occasion of praysing God in his won­derful workes, so did it minister to manie vn­godlie and ill disposed persones, mater of slaun­der and offence. Some said, that she made her selfe better then our blessed Ladie & the Apost­les, yea better then our Sauiour Christ him selfe; who (as the holie scripture recordeth) did eate and drincke. Some other alleaged the rules of spiritual life, which doe precisely forbid anie Religious persone to folowe anie singular maner of life. Some other reasoned and said, that vertue consisted in the meane, and that all extre­mitie was to be suspected of vice. Some said, that she was beguyled by the Deuel: some other said in plaine termes, that she was an hypocrite, and perswaded them selues, that she did fast openly to bleere the eyes of the worlde, but that she had good morsels in corners, which the worlde knew not of. Thus did euerie bodie thinke and report of her, (as it is wont to happen in such cases) not as they found her better or worse, but as they found them selues better or worse dispo­sed. But, to make answere to these vaine sur­mises [Page 176] and false reportes briefely, it is to be knowen, that all men, especially Religious and spiritual persones, if they haue not vtterly ouer­throwen or done their best to ouer throwe selfe-loue in them selues, but do labour still to gett the vaine estimation of the worlde, are in great dan­ger to be ouerthrowen by their owne ambitious mynd; and so being blinded with such malice, to enuie the gyftes and graces of God in others, namely if they be such excellent and singular gyftes, as maie seeme in anie degree to make their owne qualities to shewelesse in the opinion of men. Such persones are wont commonly to couer their owne malice with the cloke of a cer­taine zeale, which they pretend to haue to the honour of God and edifying of sowles: vnder the which couert they will goe about to obscure and slaunder the gyftes of God in their neigh­bours, geuing the worlde to vnderstand, that, whatsoeuer they see in them, all is but the deceite of the Deuel, illusions, counterfeicting, hipocri­sie, or lacke of discretion. But in the end such malice is wont to discouer it selfe, as this against the holie virgin doth, especially if it be examined and tried, by the rules of holie Scriptures and examples of other Sainctes, of whom we are well assured, that they were in the like case di­rected by the spirite of God. To them therefore, that saie, that she preferred her selfe before our blessed Ladie, the Apostles, and Christ him selfe, in that she obserued such a streight kind of fast, [Page 177] as we read not the like of them: it may be ans­wered, that our Sauiour Christ did (as it is writen) both eate and drincke contrariwise S. Iohn Baptist (as our Sauiour him selfe wit­nesseth) did neither eate nor drincke: and yet will no man preferre S. Iohn before our Sauiour in regard of his singular Abstinence. The like maie be said of manie of the auncient Fathers, as S. Antoine, Ma [...]arius, Hilarion, Sera­pion, and others who likewise kept a streighter fast, then we reade of the Apostles, and yet doth no man preferre them before the Apost­les. If they will adde furthermore and saie, that this holie maides case is not altogether like to those auncient Fathers; forsomuch as, though, they liued a meruelous streight kind of life, and fasted farre aboue the common course of men, yet did they eate somewhat, and fasted not simply from all maner of bodilie sustenance: to that it maie be answered, that she had (euen for that point) the example of Marie Magdalen, who liued in a rocke of the sea for the space of thirtie yeares together, and neuer eate nor drancke in all that tyme. And yet was she neuer thought to be better, then our blessed Ladie, which did both eate and drincke. To them, that alleage the rules of spiritual life, which doe expressely forbid all singularitie, it maie easily be answered: that no man ought to take such order of life vpon him selfe, without a verie good and assured warrant from God: [Page 178] but, if he be commaunded by God to take anie such singular maner of life vpon him, he maie▪ not refuse it in respecte of the singularitie: for that were to refuse the gyfte and grace of God. The like answere maie be made to them also, that reason and saie, that all extremities are to be eschewed, and only the meane to be em­braced. For it is a most certaine ground, that whatsoeuer almightie God willeth, can not be taken for an extremitie: forsomuch as his will is to vs a most true and infallible rule: by the which rule he measureth to euerie one, accordingly as he seeth most expedient. And manie tymes, what we imagin to be to one man a great extremitie, that knoweth he to be to an other man the verie iust meane, wherin consisteth vertue. As for those that said, that she was deceiued by the Deuel, there needeth none answere to be geuen: forsomuch as the thing it selfe answereth them sufficiently. For admit, that she might be deceiued by the ene­mie (whose crafte in deed is verie suttle) yet would I faine learne of them, who it was, that kept her bodie so long tyme in her natural force and strength. If they answere and saie, that it was the Deuell: then will I aske them againe, who that was, that preserued her sowle in such spirituall ioye and peace, es­pecially at that tyme, when she was depri­ued of all outward delite and comfort. This inward comfort and peace is vndoubtedly [Page 179] the fruite of the holie Ghost, and maie in no wise be ascribed to the Deuel. Last of all, to come to them, that of a wicked malice slaundered the blessed virgin of hypocrisie and vaine glorie, I thinke it not so expedient to shape them an ans­were, as to geue them good counsel. I would wish all such to be better aduised, what they speake against Gods seruantes, and what iud­gement they geue concernyng the wonderfull workes of God in his Sainctes. For they shal re­ceiue their iudgement for all such rash and slaun­derous talke at the later daie, before the iudge­ment seate of God and all this Sainctes.

Chap. 15.

WHen anie il disposed persones spa­ke their pleasure of her, slaunde­ring and deprauing that vnwonted maner of Absteinence, which they sawe in her, she would answere then not with anie vehemencie of wordes, but only simply, and with such a moderation of speech, as she thought most meete to qualifie and ouercome such hard hartes: for sooth, said she, it is true, that our Lord susteineth my life without bodily food: and yet see I no cause, whie you should be of­fended. [Page 180] For in truth I would eate with a good will, if I could. But almightie God hath for my synnes laid this strange infirmitie vpon me, that, if I eate, I am foorthwith in peril of death: praie therfore to God for me, that he will vouchsafe to forgeue me my synnes, which are to me the verie cause of this and all other euels. By such sweet wordes she hoped well to haue staied tho­se malicious tonges. But when she sawe, that she preuailed not; of verie pitie, that she had of those weake myndes, and to take awaie all occasion and coulour of offence, she came to the table with others, and did enforce her selfe to eate so­mewhat: but in so doing suffred such intolerable paines, that as manie as sawe it, had great com­passion on her. For her stomake had vtterly lost, the vertu of digestion: by reason wherof, the meate that she eate, either she cast it vp againe, (and that was oftentymes procured by putting a fether into her throte, or otherwise violently) or els it remained in her stomake vndigested, and there engendred windinnes, colikes, and other passions, which tormented her verie cru­elly and neuer ceased, vntill she had brought it vp by one meane or other. The which thing her ghostlie Father seeing, and considering that she suffred all such paines only to stoppe the course of slaunderous tongues, for verie inward com­passion, that he had of her great tormentes, he spake comfortably vnto her, and willed her on Gods name, that she should rather leaue ea­ting, [Page 181] then to suffer such paines, how soeuer they tooke it, and whatsoeuer slaunders they raised vpon her. Wherunto she made answere with a smyling countenance, saying. Father, how thinke you? Is it not better for me to discharge the debt of my synnes after this maner in this present life, then to differre the payment of the same in farre greater paines to the life to come? would you, that I should flee Gods Iustice, or rather (to speake more to the purpose) that I should not accepte this goodlie occasion, that is offred me here, to satisfie Gods Iustice with such temporal paines? Surely, Father, I take it for a great grace and benefite of God, that he will vouchsafe thus to chastice me here for my synnes; and not reserue the same to be pu­nished in the other life. To this her ghostlie Father could saie nothing, and therfore he held his peace. And so by this meane, she gaue a great example of high perfection to all men: she ouer­came the Deuel, which had wrought all this trouble against her: she stopped the mouthes of diuerse and sundrie malicious persones: and pre­pared for her selfe a double crowne in the life to come. On a tyme reasonyng with her ghostlie Father concerning the gyftes and gra­ces of God, she vttered a verie notable lesson, which was this. If man (said she) knewe how to vse the grace of God, he should make his gaine and commoditie of euerie thing, that happeneth vnto him in this life. And so would I wish, that [Page 182] you should doe, good Father, Whensoeuer anie thing hapeneth vnto you, thinke with your selfe, and saie thus. God geue me his grace to wynne somewhat of this, towardes my soules health. And then doe your endeuour to gaine such and such vertues, as that present matter shall mini­ster occasion: and within a litle tyme yee shall become verie ritch.

Chap. 16.

THe familiaritie, that our Lord had with this blessed virgin, was so strange, & the gracious priuileges, that he endued her withal, so singular, that they gaue at that tyme, & may peraduēture geue now also occasiō of laugh­ter to manie wordlie persones, and to such, as are in anie degree fallen from that simplicitie, that is (as the Apostles saieth) and ought to be in Christ. And yet are not the wonderfull workes of God therfore to be concealed from the vnfaithful, but rather to be set out for the behoofe of the godlie & well disposed; For as almightie God doth from tyme to tyme worke such great wonders in his sainctes: so doth he also frō tyme to time, prepare some good hartes, that wil receiue the same with a simple reuerence & true Christian regard. On a time, while this holy maid was lifting vp her hart to God in praier with great feruour of spirite, and saying those wordes of the prophet Dauid: [Page 183] O God, create in me a cleane hart, and renue a right spirite in my bowels: she made a special petition to him, that he would vouchsafe to take awaie her owne hart and will, and geue her an other newe hart and will, that were wholly ac­cording to his holie will. As she was so praying with great humilitie and instance, behold, our Sauiour Christ appeered to her after a verie comfortable maner, and came to her, and opened her lefte side sensibly with this hand, and tooke out her hart, and so going his waie lefte her in deed without a hart. Afterwardes being in talke with her ghostlie Father, emong other thinges she said to him, that she had no hart in her bodie, When her Confesseur heard those wordes, he laughed at her, and began after a sort to rebuke her for so saying. But she affirmed constantly, that so it was: and for confirmation of the same declared, how our Sauiour had taken it out with his owne hand. All the which talke perswaded him nothing at all. How is it possible, said he, that anie man should liue without a hart? yee saie truly, Father (said she) vnto man it is in deed impossible: but vnto God there is nothing impossible. Within a fewe daies after this, it chaunced her to goe to a certaine Chapple of the Friars preachers, where the sisters of penance were wont to kneele. And when they were all gone home, she continued there in praier: wher­in lifting vp her hart to God with great feruour and deuotion, she was rauished in spirite▪ as her [Page 184] common maner was. That done, she set her selfe in the waie to goe homeward. And as she went, behold, a goodlie light from heauen enuironed her round about: and in that light appeered our Sauiour Christ, holding in his handes a redde shinyng hart. At the sodaine sight wherof she was so afraid, that she fell downe to the ground all quaking and trembling. Then came our Lord vnto her, and openyng her side, put the hart, that he held in his hand into her bodie, and said these wordes. Loe, deere daugh­ter, as I did this other daie take awaie thy hart, so do I now in steed of that geue thee my hart, with the which thou shalt liue euerlastingly. When he had so done, he closed vp the wound againe that was made in her bodie, and went his waie. Howbeit he did it in such sort, that there remained euer afterwardes a certaine marke or scarre, as it were, of a wound healed: as she declared oftentymes to her ghostly Father, and manie of her sisters sawe it with their eyes. From that tyme foreward she altered the maner of her praier, and said not, as she was wont to doe before; Lord, I beseech thee, keepe my hart: but, Lord, I beseech thee, keepe thy hart.

Chap. 17.

AFter that she had receiued this newe hart, she increased meruelously in high and heauenlie contemplations, especi­ally when she was occupied in praier about the Aulter: from whence she neuer parted without some verie strange visions and illuminations, namely when she receiued the blessed Sacra­ment. Manie tymes she sawe our Sauiour Christ betweene the priestes handes, in the forme of a litle sucking babe: sometymes she sawe him like a pretie stripling: and sometymes also like a hote burnyng fornace, into the which it seemed to her that the priest did enter, when he did com­municate. Many tymes, when she receiued B. Sacramēt, she felt such passing sweet sauours, that her bodie was almost ouercome with the sweet­nes of the same. And generally▪ whensoeuer she did either see or receiue the holie Sacrament, she receiued withal such aboundance of newe ioyes and vnspeakeable comfortes, that manie tymes her hart daunced in her bodie, and made such a sensible noyse, that it might well be heard of them that stood by. And it was well perceiued, that the noyse was not natural, such as other [Page 186] mens bodies are wont to make: but it was alto­gether strange and aboue the common course of nature. In this inward and spiritual Iubile, that she felt in her selfe, she would breake out some­tymes & speake to her ghostlie Father after this maner. O Father, see you not, that I am not now the same woman, that I was before? O that you could feele, that I do now feele in my hart. Sure­ly, surely, Father, there is no man in this worlde so proud, or so hard harted, that would not re­lent and become humble, if he felt, what I feele. And yet is that, that I tell you, nothing in comparison of that, that I feele inwardly. There is such a great fyer of Gods loue enkendled in my hart, that this external and material fyer, being compared with that, seemeth rather cold then hote. I am so replenished with inward ioye and gladnes, that I can but meruaile, how my soule maie abide in this wretched bodie. This hote burnyng fyer doth so purifie & renewe my soule in innocencie and cleannes that me thin­keth; I am come againe to the age of fiue yeares. This diuine fyer doth so inflame me with the loue of my neighbour, that it were the greatest ioye in the wordle to me, to die for anie man, that liueth in the wordle. These thinges did she declare to her ghostlie Father to the glorie of God, and to the behoofe of the worlde: that we might vnderstand and see the vnspeakeable loue of almightie God towardes man, and what wonderful effectes the holie Ghost bringeth [Page 187] foorth in flexible and ployant hartes: to moue vs, that be dull of spirite, to the keeping of his holie commaundementes, in hope of the com­fortable rewardes, that we are to receiue at Gods hand, not only in the life to come, but also in this present life.

Chap. 18.

AFter that this holie maid was thus re­plenished with such great abondance of verie singular graces and gyftes, it pleased almightie God to reuele vnto her di­uerse and sundrie high mysteries, of the which this was one. On a tyme our Lord appeered to her, to comfort her in her holie purpose, ac­companied with our blessed Ladie and S. Marie Magdalen: and asked her this question. Daughter, said he, what thing desirest thou? Wherunto she made answere, and said. Lord, thou knowest better then I, what thing is most behoueful for me. And of my selfe, thou knowest, I haue no will nor hart, but only thy will, and thy hart. As she was speaking those wordes, it came to her mynd, how Marie Magdalen committed her selfe wholly to our Lord, when she sate and wept at his feete. With that she felt the like swetnes in her hart, as Marie Magdalen felt, at what tyme she wept at our Lordes feete: whereupon [Page 188] she fixed her eyes vpon her. Our Lord seeing that, and withal looking to the inward bent of her mynd, to satisfie her godlie desire, said these wordes vnto her. Behold, deere daughter, from this time foreward I geue thee Marie Magdalen to be thy mother: to whom as to a louing mother, thou maiest at al times flee for special cōfort: for vnto her specially haue I committed the gouer­nemēt of thee. When she heard that, she gaue our Lord most humble thankes: & turnyng her selfe to Marie Magdalen with great humilitie and reue­rence, she besought her, that she would vowch­safe so to take her vnder her motherlie protecti­on. And from that tyme foreward Marie Magdalen acknowledged the holie maid for her daughter, and she tooke her euermore for her mother. which thing maie seeme to be done, not without great mysterie, if we consider, what liknes there was betweene the mother and daughter, in the whole state of their life and conuersation.

Chap. 19.

THIS holie maid, from the tyme that she was thus endued with newe graces, vntill the xxxiij. yeare of her age (at what tyme she departed out of this life) was so wholly occupied in diuine comtemplations, that in all that tyme she neuer needed anie bodilie [Page 189] sustenance. And in those contemplations her soule was so mightely drawen vp to heauenlie thinges, that her bodie also was by the vehe­mencie of the spirite, taken vp often tymes withal, and suspended in the ayer. At which tymes she sawe manie wonderful thinges, and spake manie high wordes of heauenlie mat­ters, which were heard of diuerse and sun­drie persones. On a tyme her ghostlie Father, seeing her so rauished from her bodilie senses, and hearing her speake certaine wordes softely to her selfe, came neere to hearken what she said. And standing by her, he heard her speake these wordes distinctly in latine: Vidi arcana Dei, that is. I haue seene the secrets of God. And she repeted the same wordes often tymes Vidi ar­cana Dei. Her ghostlie Father afterwardes being verie desirous to knowe, what she meant by those wordes, and whie she repeted them so often, asked her after this maner. Good mother, said he, I praie you, tell me, whie you repea­ted those wordes so often. What is the cause, whie you will not declare your secrets to me now as you were wont to doe? To that she answered and said, that she might not speake otherwise: whie so, said he? whie maie you not declare the thinges, that our Lord reuealeth vnto you, as well now, as you were wont to doe? Good Father, said she, I should haue as great a conscience, if I should declare the high miste­ries, that almightie God hath now reueled [Page 190] vnto me, with my defectuous and imperfecte tongue, as I should haue, if I had blasphemed or dishonoured our Lord in wordes. For there is so great difference betweene heauenly thinges apprehended in an vnderstanding, that is illu­minated by God, and the same thinges vttered by the speach or tongue of man, that me thin­keth, they are almost contrarie the one to the other. And therefore for this tyme, I praie you, hold me excused. For the thinges, that I haue seene, are vnspeakeable. After this great reue­lation, that our Lord made to her of vnspea­keable thinges, it seemed to her, that her hart did leap out of her bodie, and that it did enter into the side of our Sauiour Christ, and there was made one hart with his hart. And at that in­stant she felt her soule all molton and resolued with the force of his diuine loue, in such sort, that she cried out with a loude, voice often tymes. Domine, vulnerasti cor meum. Domine, vul­nerasti cor meum. Lord, thou hast wounded my hart. Lord, thou hast wounded my hart. This thing was done vpon S. Margarets Daie, in the yeare of our Lord. 1370.

Chap. 20.

IT chaunced also the same yeare on S. Laurence daie, that this holie maid, comyng to the Church to heare Masse, set her selfe downe neere to the Aulter, as her maner was, that she might the better see the holie Sacrament. And kneeling there deuoutly in her praiers, she brake out into weeping and sobbing so much, that her ghostlie Father came to her & warned her, that she should refraine so much as was pos­sible, for not molesting the priest at Masse. Wherupon, like a meeke and obedient daughter, she remoued her selfe farther from the Aulter, and made her humble praier to our Lord, that he would vouchsafe to illuminate her Confes­sours hart, that he might see and vnderstand, that such violent motions of the spirite, might not be witholden and kept in by the strength of man: and her priaer was not vaine. For it pleased God to make her ghostlie Father to vn­derstand perfectly by experience, that such fer­uour of spirite could not be so kept in, but that the force of diuine loue would needes breake out. The which when he vnderstood, he neuer rebuked her afterwardes for anie such matter. Now, kneeling after this maner farre of from [Page 129] the Aulter, she groned in her hart, and manie tymes also brake out into wordes, and said after a languishing and ruthful maner. I would faine receiue the bodie of my Lord and Redeemer. I would faine receiue the bodie of my Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ. One tyme, as she was so so crying, behold, our Lord appeered vnto her with the wound of his side all open, and brin­ging her mowth to the same, said. Receiue of my flesh, and drincke of my blood so much as thou wilt. With that she sucked greedily, and tooke so much, that it seemed to her, that for verie pure loue she was at the point of death, by reason of the passing great sweetnes, that she felt in her hart. The selfe same yeare vpon S. Alexius daie, this holie maid made her praier to God, that he would vowchsafe to graunt her a feruent and burnyng desire to receiue his most holie bodie and blood. At what tyme she vnderstood by re­uelation, that on the morowe she should receiue without all doubt. For she had ben forbiden for certaine respectes, that she should not receiue so often. When she had that comfortable reuela­tion, she praied againe to our Lord, that he would vowchsafe to clense her hart against the tyme of receiuing, that she might receiue the more worthily & to her greater profite. Behold, while she was so praying, she felt a certaine raig­ne comyng downe into her soule, in maner of a great abondant flood, not of water or of anie other such licour, but of blood myngled with [Page 193] fyer: which (as it seemed to her) clensed her soule so mightely, that the strength and operation of the same redounded into the bodie, and clensed it also. After this on the morowe, she was so extremely sicke; that to her seemyng she was not able to moue one foote, though the worlde had lyen on it. All the which not withstanding she doubted nothing of the promise made vnto her by our Lord: but with a ful affiance in him, set her selfe in the waie towardes the Church. Whither when she was come, she kneeled downe in a chappell besides an Aulter, and besought almightie God with great instance, that her ghostlie Father might come and saie Masse there. (For she had a special inhibition, not to receiue at anie other priestes hand.) And she vnderstood by reuelation, that almightie God had graunted her that petition also. Now, while she was thus attending there for the performance of all these comfortable promises, her ghostlie Father, who before found small disposition in him selfe to saie Masse that daie, & knewe not of her being there, was sodainly touched at the hart with a verie strange feruour and deuotiō. Wherupon he pre­pared him selfe to Masse, and went to the same Aulter, wher the holy maid was (at which Aulter he was neuer wont to saie Masse at other tymes.) When he came thither and found her there, attending his comyng and desiring to commu­nicate, he vnderstood, that it was our Lord, that had moued him, to saie Masse that daie, and to [Page 194] choose that Aulter contrarie to his accustomed maner. He said Masse, and at the end (as the ma­ner is) he came to minister the blessed Sacrament to her at the Aulters end. While she was recei­uing, her ghostlie Father beheld her, and sawe her face all red, and shynyng, and bedewed with great aboundance of teares: wherat he was mer­uelously astoined. And she, by receiuing the bles­sed Sacrament at that tyme, was so replenished with the ioyous presence of our Lord, and so mightely drawen inward by the vnspeakeable sweetnes that she felt in him, that all the daie after she might not speake so much as one word to anie creature. On the next daie, her Con­fessour asked her what she eiled, and what the cause was, she had such a goodlie shynyng read in her face the daie before, while she was receiuing the blessed Sacrament. To whom she answered and said. Father, of what coulour my face was at that tyme, I knowe not. But this I knowe verie well. When I vn­worthie wretch receiued that blessed Sacra­ment at your hand, it drewe me into it af­ter such a sort, that all other thinges, sauing it alone, waxed lothsome vnto me, not only temporal thinges and delites of the worlde, but also all other comfortes and pleasures, were they neuer so spiritual. Wherupon I made my humble praier to our Lord, that he would take all such comfortes and de­lites from me, that I might take pleasure [Page 195] in none other thing, but only in him. I besought him also, that he would vouchsafe to take awaie my will, and geue me his will. The which pe­tition he graunted me, and said after this maner. Behold, deere daughter, now I geue thee my will, by the vertue whereof thou shalt be so strong, that whatsoeuer shall happen vnto thee from this tyme foreward, thou shalt neuer be altered or moued, but shalt continue euermore in one state. She declared yet furthermore to her Confessour, and said. Father, said she, will you knowe, how our Lord serued me the last daie? for sooth he dalied with me, euen as a mother is wont to dalie with her child, whom she loueth tenderly. She will set her child some tymes a good waie from her, when she myndeth to shewe him her tette: and there will she suffer him to stand and crie after it. All the which tyme she taketh pleasure to laugh at the fondnes of the child. At the lenght, when she hath suffred him to crie a good while, she runneth to him with a laughing cheere, & clyppeth him in her armes, huggeth and kisseth him, and so geueth him the tette. In like maner did our Lord with me; He shewed me the blessed wound in his side, and made, as it were, a certaine tender of the same vnto me: (but yet a farre of.) The which I seeing, for the great desire that I had to put my mowth vnto it out of hand, wept abondantly. Our Lord suffred me to weepe, and seemed to take pleasure in it. At the length, when I had [Page 196] wept a good while, he came to me with a mer­uelous sweete and cheereful countenance, and tooke my soule in his armes, and put my mouth to his blessed wound. Where, by reason of the greedie desire, that I had, my sowle entred in all wholly, and sucking there at will, drewe out such vnspeakeable sweetnes, and withal such a great knowledge of his diuinitie and godhead, that, whoso were able to conceiue it, would be astoined to consider, how it was possible for my hart not to breake, feeling and receiuing such aboundance of loue into it, as it did at that tyme. And he would meruaile now also, to thinke, how it were possible for me to sustaine life, ha­uing such a continual flamyng fyer of charitie in my hart, as I feele.

Chap. 21.

THe same yeare, vpon the 18. daie of August, when she was to receiue the blessed Sacrament, she said with great feruour and deuotion these wordes: Lord, I am not worthie, that thou shouldest enter into my bodie. And our Lord made her answere againe: but I am worthie, that thou shouldest enter into me. And so receiuing the blessed Sacrament, it seemed to her, that her soule entred into him, and he into her soule, euen as a fish entreth into the [Page 197] water into the fish. And with that she felt her selfe so mightely drawen vp into almightie God, that the powers of her bodie failing her, she had much a doe to returne home to her chamber; whether when she was come, she laied her selfe downe vpon her hard bed of boordes, and laie there for a good space like a stone without anie mouing. At the length her bodie was taken vp in the aier, and there hong for an other space, in the presence of three persones, that bare witnes of all that happened at that tyme: and so comyng downe againe, she began, as it were, to awake out of a dead sleepe; and, lying verie weake and feeble vpon her bed, she spake softely manie sweet wordes, and vttered much good mat­ter of high contemplations, which caused as manie as were present to weepe. Emong other wordes, that she spake, she praied for manie persones, and for some specially, namely for her Confessour: who was at that tyme in the Church, and had no mynd of anie thing, that might moue him to deuotion, and yet of a suddaine found in him selfe, such a strange and wonderful feruour of deuotion, as he neuer felt the like in his whole life before: wherat he had great wonder. While he was thus casting with him selfe, what that strange and soddaine alteration might meane, one of the sisters, that had heard and seene the whole processe of the matter, came in to him, and said; Father, sister Catherine hath praied for [Page 198] you verie much this daie, at such an hower. When he heard that, he vnderstood foorthwith, that her praier was the cause of all that gracious alteration in him selfe. Then he asked that other sister, what maner of praier the holie maid had made. And she tolde him, that she had praied for him and for other, that our Lord would vouchsafe to graunt then euerlasting life. She tould him furthermore, that when the holie maid had made this praier, she stretched out her hand, and besought our Lord, to graunt her this petition. And so taking in her hand againe she seemed to make, as though it had ben verie sore, and said with great sighing these wordes. O Lord, worshipped maiest thou be; For so was she wont to saie, so often as she felt anie griefe in her bodie. When her Confessour heard all this, he went foorthwith to her lodging, and praied her, that she would declare all her vision to him. She like an obedient daughter declared vnto him the whole vision in such sort, as it is described here before. And when she came to that point, where she praied for cer­taine special persones, she said to him. Father, when I praied for you and for other, that our Lord would vouchsafe to graunt you euerlasting life, it pleased his goodnes to geue me an assured comfort in my hart, that in deed so it should be. With that I besought him that he would graunt me some token of the certaintie therof: not that I doubted [Page 199] anie thing of his promise, but bicause I was de­sirous to haue some notable memorial of the same. Then he bad me, that I should stretch out my hand. And I did so. And he put into my hand a naile, and closed the same so fast within my hand, that I felt a great paine in my hand, as if there had ben a naile striken into my hand in deed with an hammer. And so (our Lord be blessed for it) I haue in my right hand, one of the markes of my sweet spowse and Sauiour, to my selfe sensible, though to others inuisible.

Chap. 22.

ON a tyme this holie maid went to the citie of Pisa, accompanied with diuerse and sundrie persones: emong other doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father was one. When she came thither, she was enterteined by a certaine worshipful man, whose house stood beside S. Christians chappell: where her Confes­sour said masse at her request, and ministred the holie Sacrament vnto her after her accustomed maner. When she had receiued, she was foorth­with rauished from her bodilie senses for a good space. All the which tyme her Confessour with diuerse others a waited there, to see, what would become of her, and to heare some spiritual and comfortable wordes of her, as they were wont to doe commonly, when she came to her selfe [Page 200] againe. Sodainly as they beheld her, the bodie, that laie prostrate vpon the ground, was raised vp, and she kneeled vpon her knees, strethching vp her armes and handes, & shewing in her face a meruelous goodlie and cleere brightnes. When she had kneeled after this maner a good while, at the length she fell downe sodainly, like one that had receiued a deadlie wound: and soone after that she was restored againe to her bodilie senses. Then she caled for her ghostly Father, and said secretly vnto him these wordes; Father, I geue you to vnderstand for certaine, that I beare now in my bodie (by the grace and mercie of God) the blessed markes of my Lord & Sauiour Iesus Christ. Her Confessour hearing that, asked her, how that might be, and how it had ben with her in all that tyme of her traunse. Wher­unto she made answere and said; Father, I sawe our Lord fastened vpon the Crosse, comyng downe towardes me and enuironyng me rownd about with a meruelous beawtiful light. With the which gracious sight my sowle was so rauis­hed, and had such a passing desire to goe and meete with our Lord, that my bodie was con­streined by the verie force of the spirite to set it selfe vp, as you might see. Then there came downe from the holes of his blessed woundes fiue bloodie beames, which were directed to­wardes the same partes of my bodie, to witte, to my handes, feete, and hart. With that I cried out to our Lord and said. O Lord, I beseech thee, [Page 201] let no singes of these holie markes appeere outwardly to the sight of men. Sodainly, while I was speaking these wordes, before those be­ames were fully come downe to my bodie, they chaunged their coulour, out of a sanguine red, into a meruelous brightnes and so in the fourme of a goodlie pure light they lighted and rested vpon the said partes of my bodie. When she had thus declared her whole vision, her ghostlie Father asked her, whether anie of thoses beames came downe to her right side or no. She answered, no, but only to her lefte side vpon the hart. He asked her furthermore, whe­ther she felt anie sensible paine in those partes, or no. With that she fetched a great sigh, and said. Father, I suffer such a great and sensible paine, in all those fiue partes of my bodie, and specially at my hart, that vnlesse almightie God shewe a newe miracle, I can not long endure in this life. That word did her ghostlie Father take verie good head vnto, and he looked diligently, whether he might espie anie tokens of sensible paine in those partes of her bodie. When she had said so much as she would saie at that tyme, they went out of that chappell together towardes their lodging: and the holie maid betooke her selfe to her chamber and laie downe, and shewed such euident tokens of ex­treme sickenes, that as manie, as were about her, thought certainely, that she would haue dyed out of hand. Whereupon her Confessour, [Page 202] with certaine other, that kept him companie, were called, to see that strange case. When they came and sawe her in such extremitie, they were all ouercome with sorrowe and heauines: for though they had seene her oftentymes before in verie weake case, yet had they neuer seene her so feeble, & (to their seemyng) so neere to death. Neuertheles within a while after she came to her selfe againe, and recouered so much strength, that receiuing a litle meate, she was able to speak: and said to hir ghostlie Father, as she had said before, that vnlesse almightie God would by some newe miracle continue her life, she had but a litle tyme to endure in this wordle. When her Confessour heard that, he called all her spirituall children together, both men and women, and besought them with manie teares, that they would all with one voice offer vp their humble praier to God, beseeching him, that he would vouchsafe to lend them their mother, that laie at the point of death, for a tyme, to directe and traine them yet further in the pathes of spiritual life. They assented all to his request with a verie good will, and went with him to the chamber, where the holie maid laie in a traunse. And do­ctour Raimundus in the behalfe of them all, spake vnto her after this maner. Good mother, we knowe well, that your desire is to be with your deere spowse and Lord, our Sauiour Christ. But our desire and earnest sute is, that you would take pitie on vs your poore children, and not leaue [Page 203] vs thus comfortles and without direction. Your reward is safely laied vp for you in heauen, and abideth your comyng. But we are in danger of perishing a thousand waies in this tempestuous sea of the wordle. We knowe also, good mother, that your deere spowse loueth you so tenderly, that he will denie you nothing, that you aske him. Wherfore we beseech you all with one voice, to make your humble praier to him, that he will vouchsafe to lend you yet a litle tyme of life emong vs, for our further instruction in this holie order of life, wherin you haue begun to trade vs. We will praie with you also: but what are we seelie wretches and sinful creatures? we are vnworthie to appeere before his diuine ma­iestie, beinge, as we are, full of iniquitie and subiecte to manie imperfections. And therefore we praie you, deere mother, that our sute maie be offred vp to almightie God by you: who for the tender loue, that you haue alwaies shewed to vs, are like to sollicite it more carefully, and for the singular fauour, that you haue found in his sight, are like to obteine it more certainly. Manie such wordes spake her Confessour and the rest to her with great heauines of hart, which they shewed more with the teares that they shed, then with the wordes that they spake. When they had said, the holie maid made them answer after this maner. It is now long, as you knowe sence I resigned my selfe wholly vnto God, and haue no will of myne owne, but do remit all to [Page 204] the direction of his blessed will. True it is, that I loue you verie entierly, and haue a great desire of your saluation. And it is no lesse true, that he loueth and tendreth you infinitly more, then I do or can do, and that he thirsteth after your sal­uation, more then I and all men are able to con­ceiue: wherof we haue most sufficient testimo­nie, the shedding of his most precious blood. His will therfore be done in this and in all other thinges. I wil not cease to praie for you, howbeit not otherwise, but only that his will be done: which (I knowe) shalbe best for you, howsoe­uer it fall out. When she had spoken these wor­des, they went aside fot a tyme in great heauines and perplexitie, vntill the tyme, that they might heare some more comfortable answere. The next daie after, she called her Confessour vnto her, and said; Father, I beleeue, our Lord hath somewhat condescended to your petition: and I hope, you shall vnderstand his will and pleasure touching the same within a short tyme. And as she said, so it prooued in deed. For vpon the next morowe, which was sondaie, she recei­ued the blessed Sacrament at her Confessours hand. And as on the sondaie before she was brought to verie great weakenes after the recei­uing of the blessed Sacrament, so at this tyme she was meruelously refresshed and strengthened in bodie. Which seemed strange to as manie, as were there present. Then doctour Raimundus, seeing that wonderful and comfortable alteratiō [Page 205] in her bodie, said these wordes. I am now in great hope, that our Lord hath accepted our teares, and that he hath geuen fauorable eare to the humble praiers of vs his vnworthie ser­uantes. With that, for their further assurance and comfort, he asked the holie maid, whether the paine, that she was wont to haue in her handes, feete, and side, did continue still, as it did before. Wherunto she made answere and said, that our Sauiour Christ had now so wrought in her bodie, that those woundes or markes, were no more a griefe and torment vnto her, but rather a passing great ioye and sensible comfort: and that our Lord at their instance and sute had graunted her a longer tyme of affli­ction in this life, which she was glad of, for the loue she bare to them.

Chap. 23.

VPon the feast of S. Pauls conuersion, this holie maid was meruelously rauished frō her bodilie senses: and her spirite was so mightely drawen vp to heauenward, that for the space of three daies & three nightes, she was vn­moueable and without all bodilie feeling: in so much that manie thought verily, that she had bin fully dead. But there were some, that vnderstood her condicion better then the rest, who were of [Page 206] opinion, that she should be rauished with S. Paul into the third heauen. At the lenght, when the three daies were ended, she came to her selfe a­gaine. But her spirite was so comforted with the thinges that had ben reuealed vnto her in that tyme, that she stood long tyme after, like one that had ben neither fully sleeping, nor fully awaked. In the meane tyme, whil she so stood, there came to her doctour Thomas, her first Confessour, and with him an other Friar called brother Donatus of Florence: who were going to visite a certaine holie Heremite in the wildernes. And taking this holie maid in their waie, and finding her in this case, they thought, they would proue, whe­ther they might awake her fully, by inuiting her to doe some worke of charitie. And so they asked her, whether she would goe with thē to see that holie man. Yea, said she: not knowing in deed at that verie instant, what she said. For as yet she re­mained in that sleepie state, that she had ben in before. But so soone as she perceiued, that such a woord had passed her, she had such a remorse of conscience, bicause she had said otherwise, thē she mynded to doe, that, for verie griese of mynd & sorrowe for her offence, she awaked altogether: & as she had ben before three daies & three nightes in a deliteful contēplation of heauenly thinges, so did she likewise cōtinue three daies & three nightes after a verie lamētable maner waling & wee­ping for her synne, and said to her selfe. O most wicked and peruerse woman, hast thou thus [Page 207] requited the infinite goodnes and mercie of thy Lord and Sauiour with making a lie? Be these the truthes, that thou hast learned in heauen? Be these the frutes of the doctrines, that the holie Ghost hath inspired in thy hart? Thou knewest well, when thou spakest those wordes, that it was not thy meanyng to goe with them. And yet thou wouldest saie yea, and make a lie to those good men and vertuous priestes, that haue charge of thy soule. Ah wretched creature. Ah wicked woman. These and other the like wordes did she speake with an earnest displea­sure against her selfe, and did great penance vpon her bodie, for the space of three daies and three nightes for that lie, that she had made: (if it maie truly be termed a lie, and not rather a word, that escaped her vnwares.) Howsoeuer it was, she was permitted by the prouidence of God so to slide, and also to haue a timorous re­morse for her offence, to keepe downe her hart, that it should not be puffed vp with pride, in regard of those heauenlie reuelations, that she had seene: Which were so great (as she declared afterwardes to her ghostlie Father) that no ton­gue of man was able to expresse them.

Chap. 24.

AT an other tyme the Apostle S. Paul appeered to her, and gaue her war­nyng, that she should geue her selfe ear­nestly to praier. The which warnyng she recei­ued with verie great obedience, and did in deed set her selfe wholy to the exercise of praier: and therby deserued to haue manie goodlie re­uelations. Vpon S. Dominickes eueen a litle before euen song tyme, being in the Church occupied in praier, manie reuelations were shewed to her by S. Dominicke him selfe, and by diuerse other Sainctes. The which reuelations were so fami­liar to her, that she was able at one tyme both to geue heed to them, and also to declare the same to others. While she was thus occupied, it chaunced, that brother Barthelmewe her Con­fessours companion entred into the Church: in whom she had as great affiance, as in her Con­fessour him selfe: for in her Confessours absence, he was her ghostlie Father. When she percei­ued, that he was come, she arose and went to­wardes him, and said that she had to conferre with him concernyng certaine reuelations. Wherupon they sate downe together in the Church, and she began to declare to him manie strange thinges, that our Lord had reuealed to [Page 209] her. Emong other thinges she declared to him, that at that verie instant, while she was speaking to him, she sawe her holy father S. Dominicke, there present as well, as she sawe the Friar that sate by her, and that he was neerer to her, then the Friar was. In this meane tyme, while she was thus declaring to him manie wonderful reuela­tiōs, it happened, that hir yonger brother, whose name was also Barthelmewe, came by. And she (seeing by like the shadowe of his bodie, or els hearing the noise of his feete) cast her eye a litle a side and beheld her brother, and so thought to returne to her foremer discourse againe. But considering with her selfe, what she had done, she was toched at the hart with such an inward grief for that litle distraction, that for a good tyme she held her peace and spake not one word, but wept and wailed verie bitterly. At the length, the Friar that was there, seeing, that she made no end of weeping, spake comfortable wordes vnto her, and praied her, that she would goe fo­reward in her godlie talke. But she so sobbed and wept that she was not able to geue him one word to answere. After a long spcae, when she had wonne so much of her selfe, that she was able to speake, she began with her selfe after this maner. Ah wretch, that thou art: thou shalt surely abide for it. With that Friar Barthelmewe asked her, what offence that should be, that she tooke so heauiely? Out vpon me vile wretch, said she: sawe you not, while our Lord was she­wing [Page 210] me his great mysteries and secrets, how I turned myne eye a side to behold a creature? Then the good man, who had great wonder to see the tendernes of her conscience, and therfore desired to excuse or qualifie her offence, said vnto her. Surrely mother, it seemeth verie strange to me, that you should make so great lamentation for a matter of so light impor­tance for that turnyng aside; for your eye en­dured so litle tyme that (I assure you) I could not espie it. O father, said she, if you knewe, how sharply our blessed Ladie rebuked me for that trespas, vndoubtedly you would weepe and lament with me. When she had said those wordes, she held her peace, and would speake no more of her reuelations, but continued sorrowing and weeping for her offence, vn­till such tyme, as she had made her Confes­sion; and so with heauie cheere she went home to her chamber. She declared after­wardes to her ghostlie Father, that S. Paul appeered to her also, and reprooued her so roughly for that litle losse of tyme, that she would rather suffer all the sha­me of the worlde, then abide, such an other rebuke at the Apostles hand. And of that rebuke she tooke occcasion to spe­ake to her ghostlie Father after this maner. O Father, saide shee, thinke you, what a confusion, and shame that shalbee, that all wicked and vnhappie synners [Page 211] shall abide at the later daie, when they shal stand before the maiestie of God, seeing that the pre­sence of one only Apostle, is so dreadfull and in­tolerable. I assure you, father, the apostles wor­des and contenance were so terrible to me, that, if I had not had comfort of a goodlie bright lam­pe, that stood by, while he spake to me, I thinke verily, my hart had neuer ben able to abide the same, but would haue dyed for verie sorrowe, that it had of that extreme shame and confusion. And thus it pleased God now and then to put her in mynd of her owne frailtie, especially after such great reuelations, which otherwise might haue moued her hart to pride.

Chap 25.

ON a tyme conferring with Friar. Barthelmewe of the reuelations, that our Lord had shewed vnto her emong other thinges she declared, that she had seene, in deed by a vision of imagination, how almightie God the Father brought foorth his coequal true Sōne (as it seemed to her) by his mouth: the which Sonne in the nature of mankind, which he had taken, shewed him selfe to her also in the substāce and fourme of a true man; She sawe likewise, how almightie God brought foorth the glorious patriarke S. Dominicke, not out of his mouth, but [Page 212] out of his brest, enuironed round about with a meruelous goodlie light and brightnes. And she heard a voice, proceeding from the mouth of almightie God, which said these wordes. Deere daughter, I haue brought forth (as thou seest) these two sonnes, the one naturally, & the other by adoption. She was much amazed at the strangenes of that comparision, made betweene the Sonne of God and S. Dominicke. Whereupon the voice proceded and declared the meanyng of it after this maner. As this my natural Sonne was in his humane nature, which he tooke, euer­more most perfectly obedient to me, euen to death: so was this my some by adoption obedi­ent to me in all pointes, euen from his childhood to his dying daie, and directed all his workes according to my commaundementes, and kept that puritie both of bodie and soule, which he receiued of me in Baptisme cleane and vnspotted vntill the end of his life. And as this my natural Sonne spake openly to the wordle, and gaue a most cleere testimonie to the truth, that I put in his mouth: euen so did this my sonne by adop­tion, preach the truth of my gospel as well to he­retikes and scismatikes, as also emong my faith­ful people. And as this my natural Sonne sent out his disciples to publish the gospel to all crea­tures: so doth this my sonne by adoption now at this present, and shall hereafter from tyme to tyme, send out his brethren and children vnder the yoke of his holie obedience & discipline. And [Page 215] [...] [Page 216] [...] [Page 213] for this cause is it graunted to him and his by special priuilege, that they shall haue the true vnderstanding of my wordes, and shall neuer swarue from the same. And as this my natural Sonne ordained the state of his whole life in deedes and wordes, to the saluation of soules: euen so did this my Sonne by adoption emploie him selfe wholly, both in his doctrine, and in example of life, to deliuer sowles from the sna­res of the deuel, which are errour and synne. And that was his principal intent, when he first foun­ded his order, to witt, to wynne sowles out of the bondage of errour and synne, and to bring them to the knowledge of truth, and withal to the exrcise of a godlie and Christian life. And for these cawses doe I liken him to my natural Sonne. This was the reuelation, which she had at that tyme, while she was conferring with Friar Barthelmewe in the Church: at what tyme she chaunced to cast her eye aside, as it is de­clared before.

Chap. 26.

THis holie virgin was now replenished with such aboundance of grace, that she bestowed in a maner the whole tyme of her life in heauenlie contemplations: by rea­son wherof, being often tymes rauished in spirite and abstracted from her bodilie senses, she be­came so feeble and fainte, that she was con­strained to keepe her bed. Where she laie, as it were, in a continual longyng & languishing after her spowse: with the diuine loue of whome she was so much inflamed, that she might not well reason or thinke of anie other thing, but only of him. And manie tymes, by reason of the vehe­mencie of that holie fyer burnyng in her hart, she brake out into these wordes, and repeated the same againe and againe: O my most sweet and louelie Lord, Sonne of God. O my most deere & amiable spowse, Sonne of the B. virgin Marie. With such wordes did she expresse the inward gronyng and melting of her hart. This was her mornyng and euenyng song: this her repast, when she was hungrie: this her rest after labour. [Page 215] In this tyme our Lord appeered vnto her often­tymes: which also increased the fyer in her hart: in so much that on a tyme being ouercome with the heate of the same, she began (like one that were impatiently set to haue a thing) as it were to quarel and expostulate with him, saying. O my most sweet and louely Lord, O deere spowse of my soule, wherfore dost thou suffer me to be holden here prisoner in the dongeon of this wicked worlde? Wherfore dost thou not loose my bandes, and call me awaie to thy blesful ta­bernacles? Dost thou not see, ô Lord, that there is nothing vnder the sunne, wherin I can take delite? Dost thou not knowe, that I do loue no creature in this worlde, but only in thee, or for thee? Dost thou not see, ô eye of heauen which seest all thinges, that all thinges are to me vn­sightly and yrckesome, the beawtie of thy diuine maiestie only excepted, wheron my hart is fixed? wherfore then dost thou suffer this my wretched bodie to be so long a let and staie, that I can not come and haue the ioyful fruition of that most excellent beawtie, that I so much de­sire? O my most gracious and amiable Lord, O most sweet loue of my hart, suffer me no longer to dwell in this earthie and foule prison, but take me out, and call me to dwell with thee in thyne euerlasting tabernacles. To these wordes proceeding from such a louing and languishing spirite, our Lord answered sweetly after this maner. Deere daughter, when I liued in earth, I [Page 216] laboured to fulfill not myne owne will, but the will of my Father. And though I had an earnest desire to eate that last passeouer with my disci­ples (as they heard me saie often tymes) and so to be with my Father: yet did I patiently abide the tyme, that my Father had ordeined. Thus much I tell thee, to instructe thee by myne owne example, that, though thou haue a fer­uent desire to be perfectly vnited to me in blesse, yet must thou tarry the tyme, that I haue appoin­ted. Vnto the which wordes she made answere readily, and said. O Lord, seeing it is thy plea­sure, that I shall not yet passe out of this life, thy blessed will be done in all thinges, both in heauen and in earth. But yet one thing I most humbly beseech thee, seeing it is so, that I maie not be vnited to thee in blesse, during the tyme of myne abode here in this life, graunt me thus much: that I maie be vnited to thee at the least in thy passion, and that I maie haue a feeling of eue­rie particular paine and torment, thou diddest suffer for me on the Crosse, euen to the yealding vp of thy most holie spirite. Thus she praied with great vehemencie of spirite, and our Lord gaue fauourable eare to her petition; for (as she declared afterwardes secretly to her Confessour) our Sauiour Christ neuer suffred anie kind of paine in his bodie, which she did not likewise suffer in some degree. And therfore she tooke a passing great delite to reason of the Crosse and passion of our Sauiour Christ: and she reuealed [Page 217] diuerse and sundrie strange mysteries, and made manie goodlie expositions vpon certaine places of the gospel, such as were neuer by anie of the holie doctours before.

Chap. 27.

REasonyng at diuerse and sundrie tymes of the Crosse of Christ, she would take occasion to vtter manie goodlie doctri­nes and sentences, which were of great force and efficacie to stirre vp the myndes of the hea­rers to the loue of Christ crucified. Emong other thinges she affirmed constantly, that our Saui­our Christ did, from the verie hower of his conception to the end of his life, beare a conti­nual Crosse in his hart. And of this doctrine she gaue a verie good reason after this maner. Is it not most certaine, said she, that our Sauiour Christ the mediatour betweene God and man, true God and true man, was at the verie point of his conception replenished, in the highest and most perfecte degree, with all fulnes of grace, knowledge, wisedome, and charitie? In so much that it was not necessarie for him to learne ought of anie creature in heauen or in earth. Then, being so replenished with charitie, [Page 218] it folweth necessarily, that he had in him selfe the loue both of God and also of his neighbour in the highest perfection. And being replenished with knowledge, it foloweth likewise, that he sawe most cleerely two pointes: the one, that almightie God was depriued of his honor, feare, and reuerence, that man owed vnto him: the other, that man was depriued of euerlasting blesse, which was dewe to him for the said ho­nour, feare, and reuerence. And of this loue and knowledge, it must needes be, that he bare a meruelous heauie and continual Crosse in his sowle, which had euermore such a great and vehement thirst, to the honour of God, and to the saluation of man. And bicause he knewe, that the restitution both of the one and the other, to wite, both of the honour of God, and also of the saluation of man, was appointed by God to be wrought by the meane of his Crosse: therfore he had euermore a meruelous great desir to come vnto it: which desire was vndoubtely a verie cordial and continual Crosse vnto him, and neuer ended, vntill the tyme came, that his bodie was in deed stretched out and nailed vpon the tree of the Crosse. She reasoned yet further concerning that Crosse of desire, and said thus. No man liuing is able to make a iust esti­mate of the paines and tormentes, that our Sa­uiour suffred in his hart, by reason of the desire, that he had, to paie the debt of mankind, to de­liuer them from the sentence of death, and to [Page 219] bring them againe into the fauour of God. They only, that loue God with all their hart, with all their sowle, with all their strength, and their neighbour as them selues, maie ghesse in some degree, what his paine was. Such good men maie, iudge in part by the loue that they haue thē selues to the honour of God and saluation of man, and by the griefe, that they feele in them selues, when the thing, that they loue, is either taken awaie or long delaied, what his griefe was. They maie iudge, I saie, in part, & not perfectly: forsomuch as the loue, that man hath or can haue, to the ho­nour of God and saluation of man, be it neuer so great, is nothging in comparison of that passing great loue, that was in the hart of our Sauiour Christ. And therfore the desire that he had to recouer both the one and the other, must needes cawse in him a greater sorrowe without all comparison, then euer was or could be in man: vntill he sawe an effectual and perfecte restitution made, to God of his honour and reue­rence: to man of his former state of grace in this presente life, and of glorie in the life to come. And thus much he signified to his disciples, when he said those wordes: I haue had an ear­nest desire to eate this passeouer with you: and afterwardes likewise, when in his praier to God the father he said: Father, take awaie this cup from me. Which is as if he had said in plaine wor­des. Father, I see here prepared for me a verie bitter cup of most sharpe tormentes and death, [Page 220] which I haue droncke continually in desire euen from the hower of my conception, but now do begynne to drincke the same in deed, and so to make an end of drincking this paineful potion of the Crosse: which I desire thee to hasten and bring to an end. For that being once passed and gone, I shall reape the frute of my long and ear­nest desire, to witte, I shall haue fulfilled myne obedience in all pointes to thee, restitution shalbe made perfectly, to God of his due honour, to man of his foremer state. And I desire not to haue this cup of my passion taken awaie, which thou hast here made readie for me, which I take at thy fatherly hand like an obedient sonne and drincke it willingly: but I desire to haue that cup taken awaie from me and ended, which I haue droncke with such an earnest and greedie desire so manie yeares for the loue that I beare to thyne honour, and to the saluation of mankind. This was the exposition, that she made vpon this place of the gospel against the which, (bicause it see­med straung and singular) her ghostlie Father doctour Raimundus reasoned after this maner. Mother, said he, you knowe, that the holie Fa­thers do commonly geue an other interpretati­on to this place, almost contrarie to this, that you haue said. They saie that our Lord desired, in deed rather not to drincke that cup, then to drinke it: meanyng therby to declare to vs, that he was true man, and that, as true man, his flesh did naturally abhorre death, as the flesh of euerie [Page 221] man doth. And by this he would geue a doctrine, and withall an example in him selfe, to all wea­ke and fraile men, that they should not be dismai­ed, though they felt in them selues, that they did feare death. Forsomuch as the like feare & frailtie was seene in our head also, who tooke vpon him all our infirmities, onlie synne ex­cepted. To this the holie maid made answere thus. Father, said she, I knowe right well, that the holie doctours do expound this place, as you haue said: and I find no fault with their expo­sition. And though this interpretation, that our Lord hath taught me, seeme diuerse or almost contrarie (as you thinke) to that, yet is it verie true, and maie well stand with the common ex­position of the holie Fathers; Father, it is cer­taine, that our Sauiour Christ was head, not on­ly of the weake and fraile, that feare and flee death, but also of the strong and mightie, that beare it manfully, and yeald not to the feare and shrynking of the flesh. And therfore he would in this acte and wordes, geue a doctrine and exam­ple to them both. He would tremble, and feare, and desire that the bitter cup of his passiō might passe awaie, to geue an example to the weake, that they might likewise feare and flee death without anie offence (if they had no commaun­dement from God to the cōtrarie) He would also ouercome that feare and quaking of the flesh by the force of reason and zeale of Gods honour, and desire his Father to hasten that cup of his [Page 222] passion and death: to geue an example to the strong that they should not yeald to the frailtie, of the flesh, and shrincke at the terrour of death, but folowe the direction of the spirite, and offer them selues valiantly to tormentes and to death it selfe, when by so doing, they might either ho­nour God, or edifie their neighbour. And I see no cause, whie one place of the scripture should not haue manie interpretations: forsomuch as the holie scripture (as you knowe) hath manie sen­ses and meanynges. Which the holie Ghost hath so ordained, that the holie scripture might serue diuerse and sundrie persones, to diuerse and sundrie effectes. As we see this present text being diuersely expounded, serueth men of diuerse qualitie to verie good purpose: The weake for a refuge, if they retire and saue them selues: the strong for a warrant, if they steppe forewardes, and offer them selues to euident danger for Gods sake. Then, if you aske me, how these two interpretations maie stand together, the one being contrarie to the other: (for by the one our Sauiour required, that the cup of his passion might be hastened, by the other, that it might passe awaie) I answere, that I take it for none incon­uenience, that in that agonie, he should haue those two contrarie effectes in him selfe, the one according to the flesh, whose propertie it is, naturally to repine at anie thing that maie hurt: the other according to the spirite, [Page 223] which, looking to the honour of God and salua­tion of mankind, desired earnestly the bitter cup of his death, by the drinking wherof he knewe right well, that both the one and the other should be restored. When her Confessour had heard this reasō & discourse, he replied no more, but held his peace, for in deed he was astoined, and knewe not, what to answere to the wise­dome and spirite of God, that spake in her.

Chap. 28.

BEing on a tyme rauished in spirite, she learned an other exposition vpon this place of the gospel, which her Confessour douctour Thomas commited to writing: and it was thus. Our Lord, said she, approching neere to his passion, set before the eyes of his mynd that great multitude of wicked men and women, which he sawe, through malice and obstinacie would not take the benefite of his death. The which sight put him into such an agonie, that he sweat water and blood, & for verie pitie, that he had of those miserable creatures, he was, as it we­re, enforced to vtter those wordes; Father, if it be possible, let this cup passe from me. Which is as much, as if he had said; Father, this cup, that is here presented before me, is surely a verie bitter [Page 224] cup to me, seeing (as I do to my great griefe) the damnation of so manie soules, which without anie cause shall make light of this great loue, that I am here to shewe to mankind, and leese the be­nefite of my blood, which is now readie to be powred out for their sake. Wherfore, if it be possible, I beseech thee, that thou wilt pardon them, and in so doing take awaie this bitter cup from me. This, said she, was the praier, that our Sauiour made to his eternal Father. And she ad­ded furthermore and said, that he had without all doubt obteined the thing, that he demaunded, if he had requested the same absolutely and wit­hout condicion: for what petition could he make to his Father, that should not haue ben heard: who (as the Apostle saieth) was heard for the verie reuerence, that was in him selfe? But as on the one side the tender loue, that he bare to man­kind, wonne so much of him, that he made that petition in their behalfe: so on the other side, the loue of Gods iustice moderated the vehemencie of his loue towardes mankind, and cawsed him to qualifie his earnest demaund, with this clause and condicion: howbeit; O Father, not my will be done, but thyne. This holie maid declared yet further to her confessour and said, that the pai­nes, which our Sauiour suffred for the redemp­tion of mankind, were so excessiuely great, that it had ben impossible for anie man in this wordle to endure the same, but that he must needes haue dyed, if it had ben possible, ma­nie [Page 225] tymes. For as the loue, that he bare to man­kind, was vnspeakeable and incomprehensible: so were the paines, that he suffred for their loue, so great that no man had ben able to esteeme them, and much lesse to beare them. What man, said she, would haue beleeued, that those thornes of his crowne, should haue persed thorough his scull into his braines? And yet so it was. Againe, who would haue thought, that the bones of a man should haue ben drawen a sonder and di­siointed? And yet the prophet Dauid saieth: They told all my bones, speaking of the vnmerciful and cruel tormentours, which haled and pulled him here & there so violently, that they plucked his bones out of ioynt. Certaine it is, that the malice of those wicked Iewes was verie great, and that they vsed him verie cruelly: and yet could not their malicious and cruel vsage haue done it, but only that his will was (to shewe his vnspeakeable loue towardes vs) as it were vtterly to forsake him selfe, and to suffer his bo­die to be destitute of all such force and strength, as might make anie resistance against paines and tormentes. So that the principal cause of his passion was, the desire, which he had, of shewing his loue to vs euidently and effectually. It was not the violent hand of those tormentours, that were able to hold him (whome he made to fall downe at his foote with one woord of his mouth.) It was not the nailes, that were able to holde him fast to the Crosse: (which were his [Page 226] creatures, and had no further power vpon their Creatour, but only so much as he would geue them:) but it was the loue, that he bare to man­kind that tooke him: it was loue, that held him fast: it was loue, that nailed him fast to the Crosse, and made him there to endure a most bitter and reprochful death. Such high wordes and sentences did she vtter to her confessour concernyng the passion of our Sauiour. And she affirmed furthermore, that, whatsoeuer paines our Sauiour had borne in anie part of his bodie, the same had she borne in her bodie also, in like maner as our Sauiour did, but not in like mea­sure (for that had ben impossible for her bodie to beare) And to shewe, in deed, that she knewe by exeperience, which of all those paines was grea­test, she said, that all the other paines were passed and gone, but one remained still in her bodie, which was the diuulsion (as they terme it) or sundering of the bones in the brest: which paine was of all other paines (as she said) most grieuous. Now this paine of the brest grewe on so vehemently vpon her, and withal the loue of our Sauiour, to whome she was confourmed by suffring such paines, increased so mightely in her hart, that she was wholly ouercome with the force of the same, and her hart, like a thynne glasse filled with a verie strong liqour, being not able to beare the strength of that diuine loue, [Page 227] brast in sunder (as she declared afterwardes) and clefte in the middle from the highest to the lowest part of the same. And certaine it is, that she dyed in deed in the presence of manie ver­tuous and credible persones, and so continued a long tyme. Of this matter she made mention af­terwardes in a letter writen to her ghostlie Fa­ther with her owne hand: in the which letter she declared emong other thinges, how she was taught by S. Iohn the Euangelist and S. Thomas of Aquine, to write in a verie short space.

Chap. 29.

HEr ghostlie Father being desirous to le­arne the verie certainty of this matter at her owne mouth, on a tyme reaso­nyng with her, besought her, that she would tell him plainly, what had passed. She stood still a great while, and could not geue him one word to answere for weeping: but at the length she spake after this maner. O father said she, is it not a pitiful and lamentable case, that a soule, which hath ben once deliuered out of a darcke, prison, and hath had the fruition of a most ioyous and beawtifull lighte, shoulde be constreined to forsake that goodly light, and to returne againe to dwell in his former darke and stinkinge don­geon? O good Father, I am that wretched crea­ture, [Page 228] vpon whom this calamitie is fallen by the ordinance of God for my sinnes. How so said he? Forsooth, saide she, the fyre of Gods loue was at that time soe stronge in my harte, and the desire which I had to be vnited to him, so vehement, that though my hart had ben of stone or of yron, it must needes haue broken in sonder. And ther­fore I geue you thus much to vnderstand for certaine, that my hart was in deed vndone and opened from the vppermost part to the neither, only by the violence of that mightie loue: which, I beleeue, was of such force, that no creature in this worlde had ben able to abide it: in so much that, me thinketh, I feele yet certai­ne tokens of that clefte in my hart. And so often as it cometh to my mind, what a blesful state my soule was in, in that meane tyme, while it was separated from my bodie, I can not but weepe & lament for my returne againe to this vale of miserie. With that her Confessour praied her, that she would make a declaration of the whole matter from the begynnyng. Wherunto she ma­de answere and said. Father, after that I had ben fed and comforted a long tyme with diuerse and sundrie reuelations and visions, which it pleased our Lord of his great mercie to shewe vnto me, at length for verie pure loue I fell so sicke, that I was constreined to keepe my bed. Where lying, I made my humble petition to our Lord, that he would vouchsafe to deliuer me out of this wretched wordle and vnite me perfectly [Page 229] to him selfe. Which petitiō as then he would not heare. But yet he graunted me thus much, that I should suffer, in the tyme of myne abode in this life, all the paines of his Crosse and pas­sion: by the suffring wherof I should both learne the better, how passing great his loue was towardes me, and also be stirred, by the example of his vnspeakeable loue, in some degree to loue him againe. And so in deed it came to passe, that seeing (as it were) by an euident experience in my selfe, how great loue our Sa­uiour bare to me, and how intolerable paines he suffred for my sake, I was wholly ouercome with the force of such inestimable kindnes, and my hart being not able to beare the strength of so much loue, as it had conceiued, brake in sun­der: by reason wherof my soule was also deliue­red out of this mortal bodie, and had the frui­tion of his diuine maiesty (howbeit but for a litle tyme: which was my great griefe.) Then said do­ctour Raimundus to her. I praie you, good mother, tell me, how long was your soule out of your bodie? And what thinges did you see in that tyme? With that she fetched a deepe sigh, & said; Faher, those that were about my bodie, & made preparation for my burial, said, that it was about a fower howers. In the which tyme I sawe the diuine essence of almightie God: which causeth me now to liue with such discontentation of mynd and misliking of all thinges here in the worlde. And had it not ben for the zeale, [Page 230] that I haue, to the honour of God, and edifying of myne euen Christians, for whose sakes my sowle was restored againe to the bodie, without all doubt I must needes haue dyed for sorrowe. And now the greatest comfort, that I haue in the worlde, is, that I knowe and am well assured, that the more I suffer in this life, the more bles­sed I shalbe in the life to come. And there­fore all tribulations are to me, not vncom­fortable and yrckesome, but rather comfortable (as you see) and deliteful. I sawe also the paines of the damned in hell, and of those likewise, that are in purgatorie: which were so great, that no tongue of man is able to expresse them. I assure you Father, if wretched synners might see those horrible paines and tormentes, they would rather choose to suffer an hundred deathes in this worlde (if it were possible) then to endure the least paine, that is there, for the space of one daie. But aboue others, I sawe, that they were specially punished, which had broken their faith and promise geuen in matri­monie, not keepinge them selues within the honest boundes and yoake of wedlocke, but fol­lowing the inordinate lustes of their flesh and sensualitie. Which was so ordained, not bi­cause the breach of weddelocke is the most heinous offence, that is there punished (for there be manie greater synnes) but bi­cause the offenders in this vice for the most [Page 231] part had neuer had anie remorse of conscience for this offence, as they had for the rest of their synnes: and also bicause they had commonly fal­len more often into this synne, then to any other: for manie tymes a synne, which is in it selfe not so great, displeaseth God highly, if it be often­tymes committed, and no care had of amende­ment by contrition and penance. Now, when I had seene all these thinges, and had conceiued withal a most certaine hope, that, for myne owne part, I was passed all paines, and come to a state of all ioye and gladnes, our Lord said vnto me. Daughter, seest thou not these vnhappie synners and transgressours of my lawes, on the one side what ioyes they haue lost, and on the other side what paines they haue found? for this cause haue I shewed these thinges to thee, bicause I will haue thee to returne againe into the worlde, to declare to my people their synnes and iniquities, and withal the great peril and paine, that hangeth ouer them, if they will not amend. When I heard, that I should returne to the worlde againe, I was striken with a merue­lous great feare and horrour. Wherupon our Lord, to comfort me againe, spake thus sweetly vnto me. Daughter, there are a great nomber of sowles in the worlde, which I will haue to be saued through thy meanes: and that is the cause, whie I send thee thither againe. Wherfore goe thy waie with a good will, and be of good cōfort. From this tyme foreward my will is, that thou [Page 232] shalt change the order of thy life. Thou shalt no more keepe within thy cell, but goe abrode into the worlde to wynne sowles. Thou shalt beare my name before al sortes of men, high and lowe, clerkes and secular. I will bring thee before the bisshops and head prelates in my Church, to con­fownd their pride. Be not afraid to conferre with them in high pointes concernyng the sal­uation of sowles. For I will geue thee a wit to conceiue, and withal a mouth to speake in such sort, that none shalbe able to withstand thee. While our Lord spake these wordes to me, of a sodaine my sowle was restored to the bodie. The which when I perceiued, for verie sorrowe I wept three daies and three nightes, and neuer ceased. And yet to this daie, I can not possibly absteine from weeping, when it cometh to my mynd, how I was depriued of that passing great ioye and felicitie, and sent backe againe to this darcke prison of my bodie. Thus much I thought good to signifie to you, father, and to others also for this end, that when you vnderstand, what a blesful state of life, I haue forgon for a tyme (God knoweth howe long) and that I haue forgon the same by the ordinance of God, for the weale and edifyng of soules, you should not meruaile here­after, if you see, that I beare a great loue to them, who haue cost me so deere, and that, to wynne them to God, I do alter the state of my life, and conuerse with them more familiarly, then I haue done hitherto. When doctour [Page 233] Raimundus had heard thus much, he gaue a great charge to as manie as were present of the brethren and sisters, that they should in no wise vtter anie part of her talke, so long as she liued. For being a wise man he sawe, that wordlie perso­nes (such as had not wholly and perfectly sub­iected all their vnderstandinge to the power of Christe) were like to take more harme by it, then good. And he sawe then presently by experience, that some of her owne scholers, which had before that tyme heard and folowed her doctrine, went backeward, bicause they were not able to apprehend the high mysteries, that she vttered vnto them. But after her death, fearing lest he should haue offended God, if he had concealed such great workes and wonders, he committed all to writing, for the benefite of the posteritie. For further confirmation wherof, I thinke it not amisse, to towch briefely a verie notable thing, that it pleased our Lord to worke by her, while she was so seperated from her bo­die. At what tyme this holie maid drewe neere to her death, to the seemyng of such as were about her, there resorted vnto her diuerse and sundrie of her spiritual children, to see the maner of her passage: and with them manie deuout persones, both men and women. By whome her Confessour doctour Thomas was also sent for, to be present at her departure, and to helpe her (as the maner is) with the praiers and Sacramentes of holie Church. Who came speedily, and three [Page 234] other of his brethren with him. When they sawe, that she had geuen vp the Ghost, they la­mented all for the losse of their deere mother: but aboue the rest one of the religious brethren, whose name was brother Iohn of Siena, sorowed so much, and wept so vehemently, that he brake a vaine in his brest; by reason wherof he coughed and auoided great gobbettes of blood. Which was an occasion of double sorowe to as manie, as were there: for both they lamented the dece­ase of the holie virgin, which was alreadie gone, and also the peril of that good man, who with such paine was not like to continue long after. Wherupon doctour Thomas her Cōfessour, being inwardly moued with compassion, said to that sicke Friar with a great faith and affiance in God. Brother Iohn, you knowe that this holie maid was of verie great merite and estimation in the sight of almightie God for her vertuous conuer­sation. Wherfore take her hand and, put it to the place of your bodie, where you feele your selfe aggrieued. And I doubt not but that you shal find helpe and comfort. He did, as he was willed: and foorthwith the disease of his brest lefte him and, neuer came againe so long as he liued. There was present at all these doinges, besides these afore named, one of her spiritual daughters called Alexa, who departed out of this wordle not long after. There were also two other of the sisters of penance, who came to make the bodie readie for the burial. One of them was named Catherine, [Page 235] which had bene her companion long tyme in religion: the other was her cosen, and was cal­led Pisa. These spirituall persons with many o­ther, gaue testimonie for the truthe of all this matter: but aboue all others, Friar Ihon did not only testifie it in wordes, as other did, but also declared the maner of it, and affirmed it const­antly in all places wheresoeuer he became.

Chap. 30.

THis holy maide had such an earneste longinge after the blessed Sacramente of our Lordes body and blood, and re­ceiued the same so often, that manie of them, that resorted to that Church, and saw hir verie often at the Aultar to receiue, supposed that she had communicated daylie. Which was an oc­casion of greate trouble both to her and to her Confessor, by certaine vndiscreet and ignorant persons, who being puffed vp with an opinion of knowledg, and withall pretending some co­lour of pietie, said, that her often receiuing was not to be liked, bicause it would in tyme cause her to haue the blessed Sacrament in lesse reue­rence and estimation. Which vaine and igno­rant supposition her Confessour answered very learnedly, alleaging most certaine and infallible groundes, first out of the Actes of the Apostles, where it is writen by S. Luke, that the disciples [Page 236] of Christ, and such as were newly turned to the faith by them, did continue daily in brea­king of bread, that is, in receiuing of the blessed Sacrament: then also out of S. Denyse S. Pauls scholer, who declareth likewise in his booke intituled Ecclesiastica Hierarchia, that in the pri­mitiue Church, the faithful people did vse to communicate euerie daie: and last of all out of the holie ghospel, where we are taught by our Sauiour him selfe to saie in our dailie praier: Geue vs this daie our daily bread. Which bread maie in deed signifie our bodilie food and suste­nance, but not only, nor principally: for the bread, that we ought principally to seeke at Gods hand euerie daie, is the bread of our soule, or rather (to speake truly) the bread of our soule and bodie: Which is the bodie and blood of our Sauiour Christ, really & substantially mini­stred vnto the faithful people in the Church vn­der the forme of bread in the holie Sacrament of the aulter. But contrariwise for confirma­tion of their opinion, they alleaged to the holie maid a saying of S. Augustine, whose wordes are these. To communicate daily, is a thing, which I nei­ther praise nor blame. Which fond allegatiton she answered her selfe verie pretily, saying. If it be so, said she, that S. Augustine will not blame me, wherefore do you blame me? As who should saie. If S. Augustine, who was a great learned man, and knewe how to directe his iudgement by the rules of Gods word, durst not take vpon [Page 237] him to determine the matter, lest he should seeme to set him selfe a iudge ouer other mens consciences: how dare you to iudge of my con­science, and to blame me for often receiuing: considering that the thing, being in it selfe indif­ferent, is made either verie good or verie euel, according to the disposition of the persone that receiueth: verie good and holesome, if it be re­ceiued worthely, verie euel and pernicious, if it be receiued vnworthely? If S. Augustine had knowen, that it had ben euel to receiue daily, he would not haue said, that he did neither like nor dislike of it, but would haue said in plaine ter­mes, that he did vterly mislike it. How much bet­ter were it for such rash iudgers of other mens consciences to harken to S. Ambrose, who inui­teth thē to receiue daily with these wordes? Take this bread, saieth he euerie daie: bicause you baue neede euerie daie to be purged, restored, & comforted. And the angelique doctour S. Thomas after a lōg discourse had about this matter, cōcludeth in the end, that such persones, as find them selues to haue a grea­ter deuotion and reuerence to the blessed Sacra­ment by their often receiuing, maie safely recei­ue it often tymes. And surely this increase of de­uotion & reuerence was euidently seene in the holie maid: in whome it was noted by diuerse and sundrie persones that conuersed with her, but especially by her ghostlie Father, who sate at the sterne of her conscience, that the oftener she comunicated, the more she increased in hu­militie, [Page 238] in holie feare, in feruour of deuotion, in charitie, in patience, & in all other vertues. And when she might not cōmunicate (as it happened sometimes by reason of certaine vrgent & neces­sarie lettes) she had a certaine fainting & langui­shing paine, not only in her soule but also mira­culously in her bodie, which was more grieuous to her, then if she had ben sick of a burning ague or anie other bodily infirmitie. Which point could neuer be perswaded to diuerse of the reli­gious persones, that liued in house with her: who did, what in them laie, to hinder her from so often receiuing; wherby they put her to mer­uelous intolerable paines. But her ghostlie fa­ther, who knewe in deed the state of her soule, condescended easily to her earnest and holie de­maund, and was euermore verie readie to mi­nister the blessed Sacrament vnto her: bicause (being a wise & learned mā) he vnderstood that her desire and longyng was of God. To whome when she came to require the blessed Sacrament she was wont to speake verie sweetly after this maner. Father, I am hungrie. I praie you for gods loue geue me the bread of life. In respecte of the which good mynd and deuotion towardes the blessed Sacramēt, Pope Gregorie the nynth made her a graunt, that she might choose for her gho­stlie father what priest she would, and that she might carrie with her a portable aulter, whe­ther soeuer she went: to the end that she might confesse and receiue, wher and whē she would.

Chap. 31.

ON a tyme doctour Raimundus making his abode in Siena, for certaine busines, that he had there to doe, came one mor­nyng to visite the holie maid, and fownd her verie sore pained with diuerse and sundrie di­seases, but specially with a great griping in the flanke commonly called Iliaca passio. All the which paine notwithstanding, after certaine conference had betweene them concernyng the worthines and excellencie of the blessed Sacrament, she besought him, that she might receiue that mornyng. Whervnto he assented with a good will, and so went to the Church to prepare him selfe to say masse. But her paines increased so vehemently vpon her, that she sent one of her sisters after him, to entreate him to tarrie a litle while, hoping after a tyme to haue some such release of her paines, that she might be able to come to the Church. Where withal he was well contented, and abode her leisure, till it was about noone. At what tyme she fownd some ease, and came in deed to the Church to communicate. But before she had signified so much to the father, certaine of the sisters, which sawe that the tyme was farre spent, and knewe also, that her maner was after she had receiued, to be rauished in spirite and so to continue for [Page 240] the space of three, fower, or fiue houers, came to her and perswaded with her, that she should absteine from receiuing that daie, in considera­tion that the tyme was past, and that it would be a great trouble to the brethren, who must at­tend so long to shut the Church doores, when all was done. Which counsel she yealded vnto with great meekenes. But yet she had such an impatient desire to receiue, that she turned her selfe to our Lord after a ruthful maner, and said. O my deere Lord and sweete comfort of all afflicted hartes, seeing it hath pleased thee so graciously to put this desire into my hart, I most humbly beseech thee, that it maie also please thee to perfourme the same by thy selfe, which can not be perfourmed by men without their great trouble and disquiet. Our Lord, who neuer despiseth the desire of a good hart, heard the inward gronyng of his hand maid, and gaue her comfort, that he would accomplish her godlie request not only merci­fully, but also meruelously. Wherupon she sent one of her sisters to doctour Raimundus, to praie him to begynne masse at his pleasure: for she might not receiue at his hand that daie. With that he went to masse, supposing that she had not ben in the Church, but at home in her chamber. And after sacring, when the tyme was to breake the holie Host: he thought to breake it (according to the maner and or­dinance [Page 241] of holie Chuch into three partes. But behold, contrarie to his meanyng and expecta­tion he sawe fower partes. Of the which, one part skipped from aboue the chalice, where he held it in his hand, and laid it selfe downe vpon the corporal, to his seeming. Where he beheld it aduisedly, and afterwardes when he receiued, sought for it diligently, and so did he likewise, when Masse was done, both on the corporal, and on the aulter, and al about beside the aulter, and vpon the ground, but could neuer find it. Which put him in a great maze and perplexi­tie of conscience. Wherupon he thought good to take the aduise of his priour: (who was ac­counted a verie discrete and godlie man) and so in the meane tyme couered the aulter, and gaue a great charge to the Sacristane to see, that none should come neere the aulter, til he came againe. Now, as he was going, in the way he met with the priour of the Carthusians (his verie frinde and familiar) who came to conferre with the holie maid of certaine matters, and therfore praied him, that he would bring him to her speech. I beseech you, said doctour Raimundus, haue a litle patience, while I goe and speake two wordes with our Father priour, and I will re­turne with all possible speed, and bring you to her cell. Sir, said he, I maie not tarrie▪ for this is (as you knowe) a solemne fasting daie with vs, and I must needes eate this daie with my brethren in the refectorie. The tyme is farre [Page 242] spent, (as you see) and I haue well nigh three miles home. Wherefore I must desire you for Gods loue to dispatch me, as soone as you can. For I am moued in conscience to talke with her of certaine matters, when doctour Raimundus heard that, for verie charitie he lefte his owne busines vndone, and went with him towardes the holie maides chamber, supposing to haue fownd her there. But when he came thither and asked for her: the sisters answered, that she was gone to Church. To Church, said he? when went she to Church? for sooth, said they, before Masse: and there she hath continued euer sence. With that he was much astoined, and turned backe againe to the Church with the priour of the Carthusians, where he fownd her in deed in a corner kneeling vpon her knees, rauished in spirite (as her maner was to be) & some other of the sisters with her. To whome he spake, and praied them, that they would vse such meanes as they might conueniently, to bring her to her selfe againe so soone as were pos­sible: For there was there with him a frind of his, that had a great desire to speake with her, and yet might not tarrie long. Now, when she was come to her selfe againe, doctour Raimundus tooke her aside, and in fewe wordes opened his owne case to her: that he might geue place to his frind, whose vrgent bu­sines required a more speedie dispatch. When she hade saide, she smyled on him after a [Page 243] comfortable maner, and asked him, whether he had vsed such diligence, as was requisite, in seeking that peece. Wherunto he answe­red, that he had sought it with as great di­ligence, as was possible. If you haue done so, said she, whie are you so careful? VVith that she smyled againe, and went towardes the priour of the Charterhowse, to speake with him. In the meane tyme doctour Raimundus remained somewhat comforted, but not ful­ly satisfied: vntill he might knowe in deed, what was become of it. So soone as she had done with the priour, and satisfied him in all such demaundes, as he made vnto her: she returned againe to doctour Raimundus: who, being verie desiours to vnderstand the truth of the matter, began with her after this sort. Mother, said he, it is you (I trowe) that hath taken awaie this peece of the holie Host. No for sooth, father, said she: it was not I, but an other that tooke it awaie from you, and therfore take no more care for it: for I assure you, you shall neuer find it. Then doctour Raimundus praied her, that she would declare to him the whole processe of the matter: which she did with a good will, to the honour of God, and to satisfie his careful mynd. Father, said she, be you no more careful for that peece of the blessed Host. For I tell it to you, as to my ghost­lie father, that it was brought to me, and I [Page 244] receiued it at the reuerend handes of our most blessed Lord and Sauiour Iesus Christ. And, that you maie vnderstand the cause also, I thinke it good to make yet a further declara­tion of the matter vnto you. Father, it is so, that I was this mornyng in purpose, and had withal a verie earnest desire to receiue. But my sisters gaue me counsel to the con­trarie: bicawse my receiuing was like to be troublesome to some of the brethren: who (as they said) grutched somewhat at it: wher­upon I thought with my selfe to folowe not myne owne will, but their aduise. But my desire was so great, that, when I sawe, that I could not receiue at the hands of men without their great trouble and disquet: I turned my selfe to God, and besought him in most humble wise, that he would vouchsafe to helpe his poore handmaid. Our gracious Lord heard my petition: and so foorthwith appeered vnto me, and ministred that fourth part, that you speake of, to me with his owne handes. wherfore good Father, be you of good comfort, for you haue lost nothing: and I haue fownd that wherby I remaine meruelously well refresshed and satisfied. When doctour Raimundus heard that, he was likewise fully satisfied: and so departed towardes his couent, praising and magnifying the infinite goodnes of almightie God, who filleth the hungrie with good thinges, and geueth the peace of [Page 245] God, which passeth all vnderstanding, to them that serue him in holines and righteousnes, and keepe them selues with a warie and fearefull regard from all such thinges, as, they thinke, maie in anie degree offend his diuine maiestie.

Chap. 32.

ON a tyme doctour Raimundus returnyng from Auinion to Siena, went to vi­site the holie maid: and entering into her lodging▪ about noone tyde, fownd her praying in her oratorie. (This thing happened vpon S. Marckes daie the Euangelist.) When she sawe him, she rose vp after a ciuil ma­ner, as it were to welcome him, and said these wordes. O father, if you knewe, how hungrie my soule is. Doctour Raimundus vnderstood wel, what she meant, and therfore made her ans­were, that the tyme was farre spent, and that he was him selfe so weerie of his iourney, that he could hardly dispose him selfe to saie Masse that daie. With that she held her peace a litle while: and soone after brake out againe & said; Father, I am verie hungrie. Then doctour Rai­mundus, to satisfie her impatient desire (which, he knewe, was of God) prepared him selfe to Masse, in her owne chapple not farre from her lodging, which she had peculiar to her selfe by [Page 246] special licence from the popes holines: when he had receiued the blessed Sacrament him selfe, he made readie an Host, that he had there con­secrated, to minister to her also. And turnyng him selfe to her, to geue her the general absolu­tion (as the maner of holie Church is) behold, he sawe her face transfigured, like the face of an Angel, all cleere, lightsome, and casting out beames of a meruelous brightnes. With the which strange sight he was so astoined, that he said in him selfe to almightie God. Surely Lord this is not Caterines face: this is vndoubtedly the face of thy deerely beloued spowse. With that he turned him selfe againe to the aulter, and loo­king vpon the consecrated Host, said these wor­des in his hart. Come, O Lord, to thy spowse. And he had no sooner spoken those wordes in his mynd, but that the holie Host came of it selfe into his handes, and did as it were offer it selfe to be caried to the mouth of his deer spowse. Thus much did doctour Raimundus testifie him selfe, who was a verie graue, wise, and learned man. There were also diuerse other credible per­sones, that affirmed constantly, that, when this holie maid did at diuerse and sundrie ty­mes receiue the blessed Sacrament, they might heare sensibly, how the holy Host made a noyse in her mouth, as though it had ben a stone cast with great strength and violence. For confirma­tiō wherof, brother Barthelmewe (who was like­wise a doctour of diuinity & verie godlie man) [Page 247] testified, that manie tymes, when he ministred the blessed Sacrament vnto her, the holie Host departed from his fingers after a vio­lent maner, and so entred into the mouth of the holie maid.

Chap. 33.

THe malice, that the damned sprites bare to this holie virgin, was verie great, and the battailes that they made continually against her to remoue her from her constancie and vowe of virginitie, were surely verie fierce and cruel. All the which she ouer­came by the grace of God, and triumphed ouer all their malice and wilines, as we haue in part touched before: but as our Lord would not suffer them to haue anie power ouer her soule (which could not be without synne) so did he permit them to vexe her bodie and put it to great paine, for her further increase of merite and higher crowne. In so much that some tymes they threwe her into the fyer, sometymes they cast her downe headlong from her horse: and one tyme, when doctour Raimundus her Confessour with diuerse other was present, they hurled her downe in such sort, that both she and her horse were ouer the head and eares in the myer. Wherat she smyled pleasantly, and said [Page 248] to her companie. Be not afraid: for this is the worke of Malatasca. And this happened most commonly vnto her, when she had done some special worke, that tended to the edifying of soules. As she declareth verie well her selfe in her hundreth and sixt epistle: where, after that she had declared, what intolerable paines she suffred (which were in deed so vehement, that for verie paine she raught at her garmentes, and looke how much she latched with her hand, so much she rent awaie:) and how the next daie being to write letters to the Popes holines and to three Cardinals, when she had ended her let­ler to the Pope, she was able to write no more, by reason of the violent paines, that came vpon her, she writeth these wordes. And so standing stil a litle while, there began a terrour of deuels, which was done in such sort, that they set me quite besides my selfe, raging like mad dogges against me, as though I seelie worme had ben the occasion of taking out of their handes that, which they had holden longe tyme in the holie Church. And this terrour (together with the paine of my bodie) was so great, that I had thought to haue gone from my studie, and to get me to the chappell, as though my studie, had ben the occasion of my paines▪ but sodainly I was throwen downe. And being throwen downe, it seemed to me, that my soule was de­parted from my body: howbeit not so, as, when it was departed in deed: for then my soule did [Page 249] tast the felicitie of the immortal spirites, and did receiue that most soueraigne blessednes with them. But now it seemed as a thing reserued; though it seemed not to be in my bodie: but I sawe my bodie, as though it had ben an other. These be the verie wordes, that she writeth in that epistle: in the which she describeth certai­ne newe battailes made against her by those damned sprites, farre greater and more terri­ble, then euer she susteined at anie other tyme. And in the next epistle she declareth, how she was verie sore beaten and tormented by them, bicause she praied with a great zeale for the Catholike Church, where she saieth moreouer, that the more she suffred in her bodie, the grea­ter was her loue towardes the Church, and the more she desired to see the same refourmed.

Chap. 34.

AS it was well knowen to diuerse and sundrie persones, that this holie maid was meruelously vexed and put to in­tolerable paines by the malice of wicked sp­rites: so it pleased God to shewe likewise to the wordle, that he had graunted her (as it were by special priuilege) authority & iurisdiction ouer the said sprites, to commaund, bynd, and cast them out at her pleasure, to the great comfort of the true and humble seruantes of God, and [Page 250] withal to the vtter confusion of those proude sprites, that set them selues vp against God and his seruantes: as maie appeere euidently by these examples here ensewing. There was in the citie of Siena a certaine notarie called maister Michael, who, when he was well striken in yea­res, determined with the consent of his wife, to forsake the wordle, and to geue him selfe to a more streigth order of life. He determined also to dedicate two of his daughters to the seruice of God in a monasterie founded in the name & honour of S. Iohn Baptist, in the same citie. Where when they had continued a certaine tyme, one of the daughters, whose name was Laurentia (a child of eight yeares old) was by the secret iudgement of God posessed with a wicked sprit; by reason wherof the whole monasterie was much disquieted. Wherupon by common con­sent they sent for her father, and gaue him his daughter againe. After that this child was thus taken out of the monasterie, the wicked sprite vttered many wonderful thinges by her mouth, and answered to manie darcke and hard questi­ons. And (which was most strange) he spake commonly in the latine tongue. He disclosed also manie secret vices of diuerse and sundrie persones, to their great reproach and slaunder. Which thing turned the father and mother, and others also of their kinred and acquentance to great heauines: who left no meane vnsought, wherby, they thought, they might ease the child. [Page 251] Emong other thinges, wherin those deuout fol­kes hoped in tyme to find helpe & comfort, one special meane was the reliques of Sainctes kept in manie places in the citie: vnto the which pla­ces they resorted daily with all diligence & na­mely to S. Ambrose tombe, (who had ben in his life tyme a Fryer preacher) to whome almigh­tie God had graunted a singular grace in casting out deuels frō such as were possessed: in so much that his cope or scapular, which were there kept, being laied vpon them, that were vexed with vncleane sprites, did verie commonly chase them awaie. Wherfore they brought the child thither and laied her downe vpon the tombe, & cast the said clothes ouer her. And the father and mother in the meane tyme set them selues ear­nestly to praier, beseeching our Lord with gre­at instance, that it would please him, at the con­templation of that holie Saincte, to take mercie on their child. But their praier was not heard as then. Which thing happened vnto them, not for anie synne, that they committed, but bicause it was otherwise disposed by the prouident wisdome of God: who (vndoub­tely) put it in the heartes of certaine of their frindes, to geue them counsel, that they should repraire to the holie maid for the re­liefe of their child. Which counsel they folo­wed in deed, and first sent vnto her, praying her in most earnest maner, that she would vouchsa­fe to doe her best to helpe their daughter: wher­unto [Page 252] she made answere, that she had inough to doe with the wicked sprites, that did from ty­me to tyme molest and trouble her selfe: and therfore praied them, that they would hold her excused. The parentes, whose hartes were verie heauie and careful for the innocent child, would not take that excuse, but tooke their daughter, and went to her to her lodging; And came to the house so sodainly, that she could not possibly escape by the dore, but that they must needes haue a sight of her. The which whē she sawe she fownd the meanes to conueie her selfe out by a windowe, and so hid her selfe for that tyme in such sort, that they could not find her. At the last, when they had tried all waies, & sawe, that they could by no meanes come to her speech (for she had geuen charge to as manie, as were about her, that none should moue her in that matter) they resolued to goe to doct: Thomas her ghostlie father, & to entreat him, that, seeing the case was so lamētable, & she so vnwilling to deale in it, he would cōmaund her in the vertue of her obedience to keepe the child with her for a tyme. Doctour Thomas was much moued with their pitiful sute, and therfore put them in com­fort, that he would doe for his part, what was possible to be done. But bicause he knewe well, that if he spake to her him selfe, she would of hu­militie make one excuse or other in such sort, that he should not be able to moue her anie fur­ther: he deuised this wyle. He awaited a tyme [Page 253] late in the euenyng, when he knewe, that the holie maid was abrode: & then tooke the child, that was possessed, and put her into a chamber, whether he knewe, she would come that night: leauing word with the rest of the sisters, that they should tell her, when she came home, that he commaunded her in the vertue of her obedi­ence, to suffer that child to remaine there with her all that night vntill the next morrowe. And so he went his waie, and lefte the child with them. Anon after, when she came home and espied the child in her chamber, she asked the sisters, who had brought that child thither. They made her answere and said, that doctour Thomas her confessour had lefte the child there. And they declared furthermore, that he had willed her in the vertue of her obedience, to take the charge of the child till the next daie. When she heard that, she made no more a doe: but set her selfe foorthwith to praier, and caused the child to kneele downe and praie with her. And so they continued together all that night, encountering and fighting against the wicked sprite, vntill at the length a litle before daie he was constreined by the force of her faithful praier to depart, and to leaue the innocent child without doing anie harme to her bodie. The which thing when one of the sisters caled Alexia perceiued, she ranne to doctour Thomas, and told him, that the child was deliuered. Doct: Thomas likewise being very glad of that ioiful newes, wēt to the father & mother; [Page 254] and brought them with him to the holie maides chamber. Where, when they sawe the child deliuered in deed, they wept for ioye, and glori­fied almightie God, that had geuen such power to his humble spowse. But the holie maid knewe, that the wicked sprite had not quite for­saken the child: and therefore intreated the father and mother, that she might remaine there with her a litle tyme, which they graunted with a good will. Then she began to instructe the child, & exhorted her to geue her self to con­tinual prayer. And withal she gaue her a great charge, that she should in no wise depart out of the house, vntill her father and mother came thether againe to fetch her home. Which poin­tes the child obserued verie well. Now it chaun­ced in this meane tyme, that the holie maid had occasion to goe home to her owne house about some necessarie busines: (for all this was done, not in her owne house, but in the house of one of the sisters called Alexia: of whome mention is made before) and there to continue all that daie: for the which tyme she lefte the child with a seruant, & gaue her a great charge with­all. When she had passed ouer the whole daie in her owne house about such necessarie businesses, as she had there to doe, and night was come: she willed Alexia to giue her her mātel: for she would returne with her to her house. To that Alexia made answere and said, that it was verie late, and that it would be euel thought of, if women (esp [Page 255] religious persones) should be seene abrode at that tyme of the night. O Alexia, said she; we must needes goe, for that hellish wolfe is about to ta­ke my litle lambe awaie from me againe. And with that they went both together, and found the child in deed verie strangely altered, her face all red, and her wittes vtterly distracted. When the holy maid sawe that, she brak out with great indignation, into these wordes. Ah thou foule feend of hell, how durst thou thus to enter agai­ne vpon this poore innocent? I trust in the great goodnes of my deere Lord and Sauiour, that thou shalt now be cast out in such sort, that thou shalt neuer dare to enter againe. And with that she tooke the child with her into her chamber, where she continued for a certaine tyme in prai­er. Which done, she brought out the child agai­ne fully deliuered of that wicked sprite: and willed that other sister, that was there with her, to take the child and laie her downe vpon the bed, that she might rest a while. And the next morrowe she sent for the father and mother: to whome she spake after this maner. Take your child home with you on Gods name, for from this daie foreward she shall neuer be troubled more with that wicked sprite. They tooke their child with glad hartes, and lead her to the mo­nasterie from whence she came: where she liued a verie blessed life vnder that holie rule and dis­cipline, and was neuer molested more to her dying daie. Which thing was so ioyous to maister Michael her father, that he could neuer [Page 256] tell it afterwardes, but that he wept for ioye. And he honoured the holie maid in his hart, as if she had ben an Angel of God. Doctour Raimundus, being certified of this great miracle by the faith­ful report of doctour Thomas, Alexia, and of the fa­ther and mother of the child, went him selfe to the holie maid, and desired her, that she would enforme him particularly of the matter. But spe­cially he was desirous to knowe the cause, whie the thing was not wrought by the vertue of so­me holie reliques (which the father and mother sought so diligentlie vnto) or els exorcismes, as it is wont to be. Wherunto she made answere, that it was a verie rough and stubborne sprite, so ob­stinatly bent, that at the first tyme she was faine to continue in battaile against him from the eue­nyng til the fourth houer of the night, before she could expell him; And at the length, when he sawe, that he must needes depart; (being indeed therunto constreined by the force of her feruent praier, and by vertue of the charge that she gaue him in Gods be halfe) he said these wordes to her. If I must needes depart out of this child, I will enter into thee Wherunto she made answere & said; If it be Gods pleasure (without whose licēce I am well assured, thou maiest doe nothing) our Lord forbid, that I should be against his holie will in anie thing. The which wordes, procee­ding of a verie humble and and resigned spirite, so strooke the proud feend, that he lost all the strenght, that he had before against the innocent child. [Page 257] Howbeit in passing out, he rested a while in the chides throte: which was perceiued by a great swelling, that he made in that place. Which thing the holie maid seeing, she made the signe of the Crosse ouer the childes throte: by vertue wherof the wicked sprite was vtterly disposses­sed in such sort, that he might neuer returne, to disquiet the child againe.

Chap. 35.

ON a tyme, while this holie maid was at a certaine castel or towne called Rocka within the territorie of Siena, with a worshipful ladie, whose name was Madam Bian­china, it happened, that a womā of the same castel was sodainly taken and miserably tormented with a wicked sprite. The which piteful sight when Madame Bianchina sawe, she was so moued with compassion, that she thought to become an earnest suter to the holie maid for her deliuerie. But, bicause she vnderstood, that such sutes were commonly verie vnpleasant to the holie maid (who of a great humilitie shewed her selfe euer­more verie loth to meddle in anie such matter) she asked counsel of certaine of the religious si­sters, that were there with the holie maid: whose aduise was, that the woman should be brought to her presence sodainly and vnawares to her: that the sight of the piteful creature might moue her to compassion. The which aduise seemed [Page 258] verie good, and according to the same the wo­man was in deed on a daie brought in before the holie maid, in a place, where she happened to be, making a loue-daie betweene two, that were fallen out. When she sawe the wretched wo­man, and sawe withal, that she could by no mea­nes auoid: she turned to the ladie Bianchina, and said. Ah madame, God forgeue you. Wote you, what you haue done? knowe you not, that I haue trouble inough by these wicked sprites, that doe from tyme to tyme molest myne owne persone? wherfore then doe you increase my trouble, in presenting others before me, that are vexed with these foule feendes? With that she turned to the woman, that was possessed, and said to the wicked sprite. Thou malicious enemie of man­kind, I charge thee, laie downe thy head here in this mans lappe, and abide there, till I come a­gaine. She had no sooner spoken those wordes, but that the woman, that was vexed, laid downe her head in a certaine Anchorites lappe, that was there by, who was called Sanctus, and neuer re­moued till she came againe. In this meane tyme, while the holie maid was gone out, to make vp a full peace betweene two men of warre, that were at variance (whose dwelling was not farre from that place:) the sprite cried out mightely by the mouth of that miserable woman, leanyng her head in the Anchorites lappe, and said. Whie doe ye hold me here? I praie you, let me goe for, I am verie hard houlden. They that [Page 259] stood thereby, made answere, and said to him a­gaine. And whie dost thou not goe thy waie? who holdeth thee? Is not the doore open? Oh, said he, that cursed woman hath bound me here. She holdeth me, that I maie not depart. What woman, said they? That, that cursed woman, said he: and would not, or peraduenture could not name her: but after a raging maner cried out, that cursed creature, that cursed woman, myne enemie. Then the Anchorite asked him, whe­ther he tooke her for his great enemie, or no. Yea, said he, the greatest, that I haue this daie in the wordle. Then those that were there present, being much disquieted with his outragious cry­ing, said to him. Hold thy peace, Caterine co­meth: (meanyng therby to put him in feare, and so to cause him to cease his crying.) No, no, said he, she cometh not yet. She is in such a place (where she was in deed) They asked him, what she did there: what doth she, said he? She is now doing of a thing (as she is at all tymes) wherin I take small pleasure. And with that he cried out againe verie sore, and said. Ah, whie am I thus holden here? And it was euidently seene, that he neuer moued from that place, where the holie maid charged him to abide, till her comyng a­gaine. At the last he said, Now is that, that cur­sed woman comyng. They demaunded of him where she was. She is now, said he, in such a pla­ce. And now she is gone from thence, and goeth towardes such a place. And so declared from [Page 260] tyme to tyme, how she passed from place to place vntill at the length, when she was come to the gate of the house, where they were, he said. Now she is come. When she was entred into the house and began to make towardes the chamber, whe­rin they abode her returne: he cried out with a lowd voice, & said. Ah, why hold yee me here by force? The holie maid made answere, and said; Arise wretch, and get thee hence, and leaue this creature of God: and from this houer foreward see that thou be neuer so hardie, as once to molest her againe. And with that it was seene, that the wiked feend forsooke all the other partes of that womans bodie, and gathered him selfe into her throte: where he made such an horible swelling, that it moued as manie as were present, to great compassion. Then the holie maid made the signe of the Crosse ouer the place that was swolen, and forthwith he went his waie & lefte the woman safe and sound, in the presence of a great manie, that were there, and sawe this euident miracle with their eyes. But bicause the poore woman had ben sore trauailed by the feend, the holie maid willed thē to bring her home to her howse, that she might rest a while & take some sustenāce And so they did. Now when she was fully come to her selfe againe, and knewe the place and per­sonnes, that were about her: she had great mer­uaile, & asked some of her acqueintance, what she did there, and how she came thither. They made her answere, and declared vnto her, in what [Page 261] case she had ben, and what had ben done by the holie maid about her deliuerie. When she heard that, she was astoined: and said, that in truth she could remember no such thing. Only this she confessed, that her bodie was verie sore shaken and brused, as if it had ben beaten with a cluble. Then she turned her selfe after a verie humble maner towardes the holie maid, and with most hartie thankes acknowledged the great benefite, that she had there receiued at Gods hand through her meanes. Of this euident miracle were witnesses, the ladie Bianchina, that holie Anchorite, in whose lappe it was done, & other moe, to the number of thirtie persones. Manie other miracles she wrought of like sort in casting out of deuels, in the presence of diuerse and sundrie credible persones, the which ho­nour & triumph ouer the enemie, it pleased out Lord to geue her in the sight of the wordle, bi­cause she had at all tymes so valiantly resisted and ouerthrowen him in her owne persone, when soeuer he moued her by anie meanes, either to pride of mynd or vncleannes of bodie.

Chap. 1.

EMONG manie goodlie gyftes and graces, with the which this holie Virgin was endued, one was the spirite of prophecie: which was in her so strange and singular, that she not only foresawe the thinges, that were to come, so perfectely, as if they had ben present, but also persed into the verie secrets of mens hartes, & told them, what they thought. Which thing caused the wordle to haue her in such ad­miration, that, when she spake to them of mat­ters concerning their soules health, they heard her wordes with greater attention and reue­rence. About the yeare of our Lord. 1375. at what tyme Gregorie the eleuenth was Pope, manie cities and territories in Italie rebelled a­gainst the Sea Apostolike, withdrawing them selues and their yearelie reuenwes from the [Page 276] Church of Rome. Which reuolt all good men tooke verie heauily, and namely Doctoure Rai­mundus; whose griefe was so great, that he went of purpose to Pisa (where the holie maid chaun­ced to be at that tyme) to powre out his hart before her. As he was declaring to her the la­mentable state of thinges abrode with sorowful wordes and manie teares: she shewed likewise in countenance, that she had great compassion of a nomber of soules, that were like to perish through that synful rebellion. But, when he had said, she made him answere after this ma­ner. Father, said she, begynne not to weepe so soone: for all this is but honye & mylke in com­parison of that, that shall come hereafter. What, said he? Thinke you, that I shall euer haue greater cause to sorrowe, then I haue at this pre­sent, seeing (as I now see) the people so wic­kedly bent, that they are not afraid to set them selues against our holie mother the Church, and to make light of her curse & excommunication? What remaineth now, but only that they do vtterly denie the faith of Christ? To that the holie maid made answere and said. Father, all that ye see hitherto, is done by the common laie peo­ple: but you shall see hereafter an other maner of rebellion, then this is, contriued and practi­sed by the clergie. When Doctour Raimundus heard that, he was meruelously astonied for a tyme. At the length he asked her, whether she thought it a thing possible, that the clergie [Page 177] should rebell against the Church. Yea, said she, it is possible: and you shall see it. For, when our holie Father the Pope shall goe about to reforme their maners, then shall they set them selues vp against him, and make a schisme in the Church. Wherof shall arise great slaunder and offence to all good men. And therefore I geue you warning before, that you arme your selfe with patience: for you shall see all this. Do­ctour Raimundus at that tyme mistooke the holie maides wordes, supposing, that she had meant, that all these thinges should haue come to passe then presently in Pope Gregories daies. And there­fore, when he sawe, that Pope Gregorie was dead, he thought no more of her wordes: be­cause he imagined, that the terme of her pro­phecie had ben expired. But afterwardes in the tyme of Pope Vrbanus the sixte, when he sawe and felt also that wicked rebellion, that was rai­sed against him by the proude prelates of the Church: he called to mynd, what the holie maid had said vnto him before: and thought euerie hower a daie, vntill he might haue some opor­tunitie to conferre with her concerning the state of those present troubles. Which by the dis­position of almightie God came to passe, euen as he desired; for in that furie of rebellion and schisme the holie maid was sent for to Rome, by commaundement of the Popes holines: where Doctour Raimundus repaired vnto her, and put her in mynd of such communication, as had [Page 278] passed betweene them long tyme before in Pisa. I remember well, said she, that such wordes I spake to you at that tyme: which now you see verified. And now I will geue you to vnderstand thus much more. Like as I said to you then, that the rebellion of that tyme was but mylke and honey in comparison of this, that you see now: euen so I tell you now, that these present trou­bles are but a childes game, in comparison of those horrible calamities, that are to come. And with that she began to recite diuerse and sundrie plagues, which, she foresawe, should fall vpon manie partes of the wordle, and namely vpon the Kingdome of Sicilia and countreis there a­bout. The which prophecie was in deed fulfil­led soone after in the tyme of Queene Ione and of her successour▪ with such vnwonted scourges, calamities, and almost vtter subuersion, not only of the Kingdome of Sicilia, but also of all other Kingdomes, Territories, and Cities, lying neere vnto it, that Doctour Raimundus and as manie as liued and sawe afterwardes the horrible state of that bloodie tyme, confessed, that the like had not ben often seene in those partes of the wordle before. When Doctour Raimundus had heard thus much concerning the scourges and affli­ctions, that were towardes the Church (of the which, some he sawe then presently verified, and therefore doubted nothing of the rest) he asked the holie maid, whether after all these stormes there were not like to come a calme emong the [Page 279] people of God. Wherunto she made answere af­ter this maner. Father, said she, almightie God hath determined thus to purge his Church by calamities and tribulations. The which when he hath once done, he will raise vp a newe spi­rite in his chosen seruantes, and send such go­dlye Pastors and Curates ouer his flocke, that my hart reioyseth within my bodie to thinke v­pon that goodlye reformation, that shall insue in all states of men. And as the Church of Christ seemeth now poore, deformed, and naked; so shall it then be seene in a verie glorious and beau­tifull state, clad with the seemelie ornamentes of vertue & godlines. The good shall ioye to see the Church of God in such a flourishing peace: and the euel shalbe allured, by the sweet sauour of their vertuous conuersation, to folowe them in the patthes of Gods holie commandementes. Therefore, father, thanke our Lord, who of his gracious goodnes voutchsafeth, after raine and tēpestes to send faire wether. Thus much spake the holie maid touching the state of the Church to Doctour Raimundus; whom she lefte in a great perplexitie betweene sorrowe and ioye: verie sorrowfull, in consideration of the great scour­ges, that he sawe, were to come vpon the peo­ple of God: and contrariwise verie ioyful, in regard of that great good, which, he was like­wise assured, should insue of the same.

Chap. 2.

AS this holie maid, being directed by the infallible light of Gods holie Spi­rite, entred into the innermost closet of his Diuine prouidence, and there sawe, what order was taken for thinges to come in the worlde: so likewise she was able by the direction of the same light, to enter into the most secret corners of mens hartes, and there to take a vewe of their hidden thoughtes and designe­mentes. Wherof Doctour Raimundus gaue a faith­full testimonie in him selfe, saying and constan­tly affirming, that on a tyme, while he was in companie with the holie maid, his mynd was occupied about certaine thoughtes, that were vnpleasant to God. Which thing she percei­uing, gaue him warning, that he should with­drawe his mynd from such thoughtes, and oc­cupie him selfe about some other matters. He (as a man) began to excuse him selfe with a lie, and said, that he had no such thing in his mynd. O good Father (said she after a verie humble maner) wherefore saie you so? Will you denie me that, which I see more cleerely, then you see it your selfe? And with that she tooke occa­sion both to tell him precisely, what he thought [Page 281] at that tyme, and withal to geue him a good les­son, how he should auoid the like thoughtes an other tyme. Doctour Raimundus confessed after­wardes to the glorie of God, (though in deed it founded in some degree to his owne reproch in the wordle) that the like happened betweene them at diuerse and sundrie tymes. There was also in the citie of Siena a worshipful knight called Sir Nicolas Sauacines, a man of great valour in his daies and welbeloued of all men. When this Sir Nicolas had spent a great part of his life abrode in the warres of foraine contreis, at the length in his age he returned home to his owne contrey and house: where he liued rechlesly in pastimes and pleasures, deceiuing him selfe (as the maner of such men is) with this false ground, that he should haue tyme inough to doe penance before his end. His wife and frindes, being ver­tuous folkes them selues, and therefore sorie to see him in such case, perswaded with him ear­nestly, that he would goe to Confession, and doe penance for his foremer life. But whatsoeuer they said to him in that behalfe, he gaue but a deaffe eare to their wordes. Then it came into their mynd (vndoubtedly by the secret instincte of almightie God, who desireth not the death of a synner, but rather that he be turned and liue) that they should moue him to goe to the holie maide, whose name was at that tyme verie fa­mouse ouer all the citie for manie vertues, and namely for a singular grace, that she had, in dea­ling [Page 282] with those men, that were hard harted and obstinately set to continue in their synful state of life. And so with this mynd they went to him, and exhorted him verie effectually, that he would now in his later daies looke more care­ully to his soules health, and in regard of that hey gaue him counsel, that he should resort at his conuenient leisure to the holie maid, and talke with her: and they doubted not, but that her good talke and praiers should doe him much good. When the knight heard them name the holie maid: tush, said he, thinke you, that I haue nothing els to doe, but to goe & talke with her? What good is she able to doe me? Then his wife (who was a good vertuous woman and well acqueinted with the holie maid) went to her, and with great lamentation opened to her, what had ben done by her selfe and by her frindes for the cōuersion of her husband: whose heart not­withstanding was so hardened, that they could doe him no good. And therefore she besought the holie maid to praie to God for her husband: that his hart might be mollified & made apte to receiue the grace of God. The holie maid promi­sed the ladie, that she would haue her husband in remēbrance: and so she had. Soone after, the holie maid appeered to the knight in his sleepe, & gaue him warning, that, if he mynded to escape euer­lasting dānation, he should geue eare to his wiues counsel touching his soules health. So soone as he was awaked, he told his wife, what had hap­pened [Page 283] in his sleepe: and he told her furthermore, that he would goe & talke with the holie maid, to knowe, whether it were she, that had so ap­peered to him, or no. His wife was verie glad of that, and went to the holie maid before, to thanke her for her charitie, and to entreat her, that she would appoint a tyme and place, where her husband might come and speake with her. Which she did with a good will: and he came, & was by her good exhortations so thoroughly turned in hart, that he promised to goe out of hand to Doctour Thomas her ghostlie Father, and to him to confesse his synnes. And so he did. Now, when he had done, he came to her againe in the Church, where she was, and told her, that he had confessed his synnes, and taken pe­nance for the same. Sir, said she, you haue done verie well: and shall by the grace of God doe better hereafter. But I praie you, tell me. Haue you confessed all your synnes? Yea, said he, all that came to my mynd. A­non after she asked him againe, whether he had made a full and perfecte confession of all his synnes. And euer he made answere, that he had done it. At the length, she willed him to examine his conscience with good diligence, and to thinke aduisedly, whether he had not lefte out some synne, that was committed ma­nie yeares before. And still he said, that to his remembrance he had lefte no one synne vnconfessed. With that she tooke him a side, [Page 284] and put him in mynd of a verie grieuous synne, which he had committed manie yeares before in Apulia: which synne was also so secretly done, that she could neuer haue come to the knowledge of it, vnlesse it had ben reueled vnto her by God. When the knight heard that, he was meruelously astonied: and acknowledging him selfe in deed gyltie, he went without anie longer delaie to her ghostlie father, and made his confession of that synne particularly. And from that daie forewarde he bare such a reue­rence and loue to the holie maid, that he could neuer speake inough of her vertue and holines. In so much that he would saie of her, as the wo­man of Samaria said of our Sauiour Christ. Come and see a holie virgin, that hath told me all that I haue done. Is not she (thinke you) a great prophetisse? This knight, after that he was thus turned by the holie maid, liued euer­more in awe of her, euen as a child doth of his maister, and was wholly directed by her in all thinges vntill his dying daie (which was within one yeare after.) And so he liued a godlie life, and died in the state of grace.

Chap. 3.

ON a tyme Doctour Thomas the holie maides Confessour, and an other Fryer called brother George Naddi Doctour in Diuinitie likewise went on horse backe together towardes Mount Politan to visite Do­ctour Raimundus, who was at that tyme there, Father Cōfessour ouer a Monasterie of Nunnes. These two religious persones, being on the waie, chaunced to be espied by a nomber of theeues, that were drincking in a tauerne, where they should passe. Of the which there arose from the table to the nomber of ten or twelue, which preuented these Friers, in a place, whe­ther, they knewe, they must needes come, and there setting vpon them verie fiercely, made them to alight from their horses. And when they had spoiled them almost of all their clothes, and of whatsoeuer they had about them besides; they lead them towardes a darcke thicket, that was there by, mynding there to haue murdered them, and so to haue bestowed their bodies in that vnhaunted place, that their facte should ne­uer be espied. When Doctour Thomas perceiued (partly by their suspicious maner, and partly by some wordes, that they cast out) what their [Page 286] meaning was: being in a great agonie, he cast vp his hart to God and to the holie maid, and said these wordes secretly to him selfe with great de­uotion. O deere Catherine, Gods deuout seruant and spowse, helpe vs now in this our great di­stresse. He had scantly spoken those wordes in his hart, but that one of the theeues, that was be­fore in mynd to haue killed them, being quite al­tered from that cruel purpose, spake after this maner to his felowes. Sirs, what meane we, to she we such crueltie to these good men, that ne­ued did vs harme? Surely it is a great synne. Let them goe a Gods name. We maie trust them well inough: they will neuer discrie vs. At these wordes, the rest being likewise touched as it were, with a certaine remorse of conscience, re­stored vnto them againe their horses, clothes, and all other thinges (only a litle money excepted) and sent them awaie without anie further hurt. Now, the thing that is most to be noted in this storie, is this. At that verie tyme, when Doctour Thomas spake those wordes in his hart, the holie maid, being then in Siena, said to one of the si­sters these wordes. Doctour Thomas calleth me. And sure I am, that he is in great distresse, where soeuer he is. And therefore let vs praie to God for him. And with that she set her selfe to praier: by vertue whereof she ouercame and altered the myndes of those wicked theeues, that would haue murdered him: as the effecte declared af­terwardes.

Chap. 4.

THere was in the citie of Siena a gentle­man called Francis of Malauolt, worship­fully borne, but youthfully geuen. And though he had a wife, yet could he not keepe at home, but would be oftentymes abrode. Which thing grieued all his frindes, and espe­cially one man, that kept him cōpanie most com­monly: who being a vertuous man, for verie entier loue, that he bare vnto him, and also for compassion, that he had in his hart, to see his frind to liue in such a damnable state, exhor­ted him, that he would goe one daie with him, and heare the holie maid. The young gentle­man was well content to goe with him, and to heare her speake. And resorting vnto her at di­uerse and sundrie tymes, he was then presently much stirred to compunction by her godlie ex­hortations, and determined with him selfe to leaue his synful life: but within a fewe daies af­ter he fell to it againe. The which thing the holy maid perceiued well, and had great pitie on his weakenes, & therefore praied to God earnestly for him: & on a daie, when the young man came after his accustomed maner to heare her exhor­tation, she spake these wordes to him with great feruour, & vehemēcy of spirit. Sōne said she, thou [Page 288] comest often to me: but afterwardes thou farest like a wild byrd, and fliest awaie from me to thy old hauntes. But one thing I tell thee? I shall once (by Gods grace) laie such a yoke on thy necke, that thou shalt not flie from me anie more, as thou dost now. The yong gentleman tooke good heed to her wordes, (and so did ma­nie moe, that were present:) but yet he sawe them not verified, so long as she liued. And for a tyme also, after that she was passed out of this wordle, he gaue him selfe againe to his wonted licentiousnes and vicious maner of life. And so much the more freely, because he had none then to restreine him, as he was wont to haue of her before. But as the holie maid was an ear­nest intercessour for that yong man, while she dwelt here on the earth: so was she also a much more diligent sollicitour in his cause before God, when she was in heauen: as the end declared. Not long after the decease of this holie maid, it chaunced, that the young mans wife, and that deere frind, that loued him so intierly, and in whom he reposed a verie speciall trust, died also. The departure and lacke of which two he tooke so deepely (because he seemed, as a man aban­doned and lefte alone in the wordle) that he willingly forsooke all the vaine ioyes and plea­sures of the wordle, and put his head into the holie yoke of religion: in the which discipline he liued and died not without a verie great opi­nion of vertue and holines. And whensoeuer he [Page 289] happened in his life tyme to talke to others of his dissolute life in the worlde, and of his con­uersion and entring into religion, he would con­fesse, that, whatsoeuer grace he had, he had to thanke God, from whom all goodnes procee­deth, and the holie maid, by whose effectual praier, he acknowledged, he was wonne from the wordle, to God.

Chap. 5.

THere was besides the citie of Pisa in an Iland a couent of Carthusians, the Priour whereof was called Don Bar­tilmewe of Rauenna. This Priour, being a good religious man, and desirous to traine vp his couent in all perfection of spiritual life, hea­ring of the vertue and holines of this holie maid, and what a singular grace she had in mo­uing mens hartes with her godlie exhortations, besought Doctour Raimundus, that he would be a meane to her, and intreat her to come one daie to his house, to geue some spiritual lesson to his brethren. The holie maid was content, at the request of Doctour Raimundus, to goe with him & certaine other religious persones to the place. [Page 290] When she was come, the Priour ordeined for her and for her sisters, that came with her, a conuenient lodging without the monasterie: the men he tooke into his cloister with him selfe. The next morning he came with his whole co­uent to the holie maides lodging, and besought her verie earnestly, that she would voutchsafe to saie some thing, wherby both he and his bre­thren might be edified. She of humilitie refused a great while, and said, that it was more meete for her being a woman to be instructed by them, then to take vpon her to instructe them. But at the length, being ouercome with their impor­tunitie, she spake, as it pleased God to put in her hart. And specially she tooke occasion to touch a nomber of sleites and illusions, which the gho­stlie enemie is wont to vse, to deceiue and en­trappe those spiritual persones, that geue them selues to solitarie life. And, when she had brie­fely and plainely declared the tentations, she did with the life briefnes and plainenes teach them, against euery particular tētation a particular re­medie. And these thinges she vttered so order­ly and with such apte termes, that they were all astonied to heare her. When she had made an end, the Priour turned him selfe to Doctour Rai­mundus, & said these wordes. Thus manie yeares haue I heard the confessions of these my bre­thren: as the maner of our religion requireth, whereby you maie presume, that I do knowe the state of euerie man. And I saie to you, that, [Page 291] if this holie maid had heard their confessions, as I haue done, she could not haue spoken more to the purpose, and more to the profit and edifying of euerie one of them, then she hath done. Whe­reby we maie cleerely see, that she is vndoub­tedly a great prophetesse, and that the holie spi­rite of God speaketh in her.

Chap. 6.

MAnie deuout persones, resorting vnto the holie maid at tymes for spiritual comfort, did vse to kneele downe be­fore her, and to doe greater reuerence to her, then was vsually done to other religious persones. The which thing because she did not refuse, some that were present, tooke offence and murmured, ymagining with them selues, that she had ben vaine-glorious, and that she had taken pleasure in such curtesies. Do­ctour Raimundus, to take awaie this occasion of offence, went to the holie maid, and told her, what was conceiued of her. To whom she made answere in this sort; Father, [Page 292] said she, our Lord knoweth, that I am so tho­roughly occupied in vewing the secret qualities of the soules of them, that resort to me, that I take litle heed to the outward gestures of their bodies. And as she sawe the secret disposition of soules, so did she likewise take either passing great delite in them, if they were vertuously dis­posed, or verie great griefe and bothsomenes to­wardes them, if she sawe them geuen to vice and vncleannes. On a tyme, while the holie maid was talking with Pope Gregorie concerning the state of the Church (where Doctour Raimundus was vsed for an interpretour betweene them: because the Pope vnderstood not the Italian tongue, and she spake no latine) emong other thinges she lamēted her verie much of the court of Rome, and said, that where of reason there ought to be a most pleasant paradyse of vertue and holines, there she found a most lothsome syncke of all stincking vice and vncleannes. The Pope, being somewhat moued with those wor­des, asked of Doctour Raimundus, how long it was, sence she was first acqueinted with the court of Rome. And vnderstanding, that it was but a fewe daies, he asked her, how she came to haue such knowledge of the maners of the court in so fewe daies. With that she raised her selfe vp with a certaine comelie boldnes (whereas before she held downe her head) and said these wordes to the Pope. To the honour of almightie God I dare well saie thus much, that I had a [Page 293] more perfecte sent of the horrible stench of the synnes, that are cōmitted in the court of Rome, when I liued at home in myne owne countrey, where I was borne, then they haue them selues, that doe commit such synnes euerie daie. When the Pope heard these wordes, he held his peace, and wondred much at the strangenes of her an­swere. But Doctour Raimundus aboue all other was meruelously astonied, seeing her to speake in the presence of so great a Prelate, as that Pope was, with such an vnwonted boldnes and au­thoritie. It happened often tymes (as Doctour Raimundus and diuerse other credible persones re­ported) that when she came with them into places, where neither she nor they had euer ben before, there resorted vnto her manie men and women, that seemed by their apparel, wordes, and outward behauiour, verie honest and godlie folkes: but were in deed geuen to some vncleane vice. Which thing she perceiued by and by, and therefore would in no wise be brought to speake with them of heauenlie matters (as they requi­red) nor so much as to turne her face towardes them. And if she sawe, that they taried ouer long, she would breake out into wordes also, and saie to them, that, if they mynded to talke of God or of godlie matters, they should first ridde them selues out of the deuels snares and amend their liues. And with that she would find some occasion to withdrawe her selfe from their com­panie. Now her Confessour and other, that were [Page 294] about her at such tymes, enquiring further of the behauiour and conuersation of such perso­nes, as she refused thus to speake withal, found in deed, that they were noted of some grieuous crime, and that they continued in the same with­out repentance. An other tyme there came a woman to speake with the holie maid, whose behauiour was so woman lie and talke so honest, that, so manie as were there present, tooke her to be a verie vertuous woman. The which notwithstanding, the holie maid turned her face awaie from her (as it seemed) of purpose: be­cause she would neither see the woman, nor be seene of her. Whereof Doctour Raimundus had great wonder, and therefore tooke occasion af­terwardes to aske her secretly, what the cause was, whie she had so done. To whom she made answere after this maner. O Father, said she, if you had felt such a stench of synne, as I felt, while that woman spake to me, I am well assu­red, you would haue cast vp all, that had ben in your stomake. Vpon this Doctour Raimundus vsed meanes to come to the knowledge of that womans conuersation, and vnderstood, that she was a priestes concubine.

Chap. 7.

AT what tyme Pope Vrbanus the sixt was enforced to flee out of Rome, by reason of a rebellion, that was raised against him in the citie by the french faction: the holie maid, which as then was left behind in Rome, and sawe the miserable state of the Church, wept daie and night, and with continual sighes and sobbes made her praier to our Lord, beseeching him most instantly that he would voutchsafe to cease the furie of those wicked rebels, and geue peace to his afflicted Church. And it was well seene, that her praier was heard. For soone after it pleased God so to dispose, that in one daie both those factious schismatikes that had taken armes a­gainst the Sea Apostolike, were vanquished and taken, and the castle of S. Angelo, which had holden out long tyme before, rendred it selfe into the Popes handes. When our holie father the Pope vnderstood of this great victorie, he returned to the citie againe: where he asked the holie maid her aduise, what she thought best to be done in that case. And her aduise was, that he should goe bare footed to S. Peeters Church, and all the people with him, to thanke God with all [Page 296] submission and sowlines of hart, for that ioyous calme after so lōg stormes. And thus the Church of Christ began (as it were) to reuiue againe: and the holie maid tooke passing great comfort to see it. But that ioye endured not long. For within a litle tyme, after these troubles were pacified, the deuel, whose malice is euermore vigilant against the Church of God, raised vp a newe tempest. And what he could not bring to passe by the furie of strangers, that did he at­tempt againe by sowing discord betweene the citizens of Rome and the Popes holines. When the holie maid perceiued that, and sawe the im­minent peril, that was like thereby to ensue to the Church of God, she turned her selfe to our Lord in praier, and besought him, that he would hold his holie hand ouer the people, and not suf­fer them to commit such a wicked and heinous synne. And as she was thus praying, she sawe the citie full of damned sprites, stirring and ex­citing the people to kill the Pope; And those sprites cried horribly to her, and said. Thou cur­sed wretch, thou art euermore busie to let our designementes. But be thou well assured, we shall put thee to a foule death. She gaue them no word to answere, but continued her praier with greater feruour and deuotion, beseeching our Lord with all instancie, that he would voutch­safe to keepe her from all mischiefe, and also that it would please him to preserue the Pope, his lieuetenant and vicar general in earth, from all [Page 297] the violent attemptes of those wicked conspira­tours, for the honour of his owne holie name, and for the redresse of his deere Spouse the Church, which as then was in verie lamentable state. She praied likewise for those impious re­bels, and besought our Lord most earnestly, that he would voutchsafe of his infinite mercie to mollifie their hartes, & not suffer them to com­mit such a horrible sinne, as to murder their owne Father and Pastour. When she had praied often after this maner, it pleased God one tyme to geue her this answere. Daughter, said he, suf­fer the people to accōplish their malice, in com­mitting this damnable synne, that they are a­bout: that I maie exercise my iustice, and punish them according to their desertes. For their wic­kednes is so odious and horrible in my sight, that it maie no longer be endured. When the holie maid heard those dreadful wordes, she set her selfe to praier againe, with farre greater deuo­tion and vehemencie of spirite then before, and said. O most merciful Lord, thou seest, how thy deere of Spouse the Church, whom thou hast redeemed with the price of thy most pre­cious blood, is this daie miserably vexed and af­flicted almost through out the wordle. Thou knowest on the one side how fewe there are, that shewe them selues readie to assist and com­fort her; and thou art not ignorant on the other side, how manie there are and how cruelly bent, that seeke by all possible meanes to annoye and [Page 298] discomfort her. And in this behalfe it can not be hidden from thyne eyes, which see all thin­ges, how manie treacheries and treasons there are now in contriuing, to make our holie father thy vicar out of the waie. The which most detestable conspiracie, if it take place, must nee­des turne not only this citie of Rome, but also the whole bodie of Christendome to great dis­comfort and slaunder. Therefore, ô blessed Lord, I most humbly beseech thee, that thou wilt for this tyme temper the rigour of thy iustice, and spare thy people, whom thou hast bought so deere. After this maner did the holie maid continue manie daies and manie nightes together in feruent praier: in the which tyme our Lord did euer more alleadge iustice, and she craued mercie. And all the tyme, that she was thus occupied in praier, the wicked spri­tes did so vexe and torment her with their horrible scriching and crying, that her bodie waxed meruelous feeble. In so much that, if our Lord had not by his almightie power su­steined her, it had not ben possible for her to haue endured, but her hart must needes haue burst in sunder. In the end she concluded her praier with these wordes. O Lord, said she seeing it is so, that thy mercie maie not be granted without thy Iustice. I beseech thee, despise not my praiers, but whatsoeuer paine is to be laied vpon this people, laie it vpon my bodie, and I will beare it with all my hart, [Page 299] for the loue, that I beare to the honour of thy holie name, and to the saluation of their soules. After the tyme, that she had spoken these wor­des, our Lord made no more mention of his iustice, but held his peace, and gaue her the vi­ctorie, as the effecte declared euidently; For from that verie hower foreward it was seene, that the people did by litle, and litle cease off their conspiracies and practises against the Popes holines, and in the end submitted them selues wholly to his authoritie. But as their malice relented by litle and litle, and in tyme ceased: so did her paine and smart like­wise increase answerably, by the permission of God: by whose suffrance the wicked spri­tes vexed and tormented her bodie so cruelly, that it seemed incredible, but only to such as were present with her, and sawe, how it was, in part rent and torne, as it had ben with yron hookes, in part swollen and full of blacke and blewe wailes, as though it had ben beaten with clubbes, and all o­uer so pitifully araied, that it seemed ra­ther a thing to wonder at, then a natural bodie. All the which notwithstanding she gaue not ouer her accustomed maner of praier, but continued in the same, both longer tyme toge­ther, then she was wont to doe before, and also with greater feruour of spirite and deuotion, then she was wont to haue at other tymes. And euermore, as she increased in praier & charitable [Page 300] affection towardes the Church of God, so did those wicked feendes increase their crueltie to­wardes her, beating and bounsing her daie and night, and withal filling her eares with their most horrible cries, saying. O thou cursed wretch, thou hast euer ben against vs. But be thou well assured: the tymes is now come, that we will be euen with thee. Thou hast oftenty­mes disappointed vs of our purposes. And there­fore now we will neuer geue thee ouer, vntill we haue made a full riddance of thee, in such sort, that thou shalt neuer be able to hinder vs anie more. Thus much the holie maid wrote her selfe in a letter to Doctour Raimundus her ghostlie Father. And so she continued in such vexation and tormentes from the sonday of Sep­tuagesima, vntill the last sauing one of April: on the which daie it pleased our Lord to call her out of this life.

Chap. 8.

WHen Iames this holie maides father sawe, that his daughter was whol­ly geuen to the seruice of God (as it hath ben declared in the first part of this booke) he cast a verie special loue and af­fection to her, and entreated her in his house with great respecte and reuerence, and had this [Page 301] opinion of her, that she was able to obteine at Gods hand for him, what she would. And she likewise bare a verie singular loue and reuerence to her father, and commended his health to God in her dailie praiers in most earnest maner. It chaunced, that her father fell into a verie grie­uous sickenes, & kept his bed. The which when she vnderstood, she turned her selfe to God in praier after her accustomed maner, and besought him, that her father might recouer againe. But answere was geuen her from God, that the end of his daies in this life was come, and that it was not expedient for him to liue anie longer. With that she went foorthwith to her father, to visite him, and to examine him, how he was disposed in his soule: and found him readie and willing to passe out of this wordle, whensoeuer it should please God to call him: wherof she was verie glad, and thanked our Lord with all her hart. Then she praied furthermore, that, seeing our Lord had voutchsafed to call her father out of this life in the state of saluation, it might also stand with his holie will and pleasure, to make him this graunt, that he might passe out of hand to the ioyes of heauen, & not be staied anie tyme in the paines of Purgatorie. Whereunto our Lord made her answere, that the order of iustice must needes be obserued: which would not beare, that anie soule should haue the fruition of those vnspeakeable ioyes, vnlesse it were most perfectly purged before. And though her father [Page 302] had lead a conuenient good life in his vocation, and had done manie good workes also, which were verie acceptable in the sight of God (of the which one principal worke was, the mainteinyng of her in religion) yet there re­mained some rust of earthlie conuersation, which of right must be tried out with the fyer of purgatorie. When she heard that, she made her praier to our Lord after this maner. O most mercifull Lord, how maie I abide, that the soule of my deere father, whome thou hast appointed to be the meane to bring me into this wordle, by whome I haue ben so carefully prouided for in my tender age, at whose hand I haue receiued so manie comfortes and reliefes, by whose handie labour and charges, I haue ben mainteined thus maine yeares in thy seruice, should now be tor­mented with the paines of Purgatorie? I beseech thee, O father of mercies and God of all comfort, for all the louing kindnes, that euer thou hast she­wed to mankind, that thou wilt not suffer my fa­thers sowle to depart out of his bodie, vntill it be by one meane or other so perfectly tried and pu­rified, that it need no further purgation. A won­derful thing to consider. After the tyme, that the holie maid had said those wordes, it was euiden­tly seene, that her fathers bodie decaied more and more (as it did before) to wardes death, all his po­wers failing sensibly in such sort, that all men sawe, by the course of nature it could not con­tinue anie tyme. And yet, for so long time, as she [Page 303] continued in praier, wrestling (as it were) with almightie God, and labouring to incline him in some degree (if it were possible) from iustice to mercie: they might perceiue, that his soule was holden in his bodie by some spiritual power, and could in no wise depart. At the length, when she sawe, that the iustice of God must needes be sa­tisfied: she said thus. O most merciful Lord, if it cā not otherwise be, but that thy iustice must be answered. I beseech thee, turne thy iustice vpon me: & whatsoeuer paines thou hast appointed for my father, laie the same vpon my bodie, & I will willingly beare them. To that our Lord consen­ted, & said vnto her. Daughter, for the loue, that thou bearest to me, I am content to graunt thee thy petition, & to transpose the paines due to thy father, & to laie the same vpon thee: which thou shalt beare in thy bodie, so long as thou liuest. With that she thanked God most hūbly, and said. O Lord, thy iudgemētes are all iust: be it done to me, as thou hast determined. And so she made hast towardes her father, who laie in extremes. And she cōforted him meruelously with that glad ti­dinges: & wēt not frō him, vntill he had geuē vp the ghost. So soone as her father was departed, she felt her selfe foorthwith pained with a grie­uous disease in her side called Iliaca passio, which neuer wēt frō her, so lōg as she liued. The which paine she bare not only patiētly, but also cheere­fully, cōceiuīg such an inward ioy of that B. state that she knew her father was in, that she litle e­steemed [Page 304] the outward paine of her owne bodie. In so much that, at the tyme of her fathers departure, when all other that were present, made great lamentation, she smiled sweetely, and shewing great gladnes in her countenance, said these wordes. Deere father, would God I were, as you are; Our Lord be blessed.

Chap. 9.

AS the holie maid shewed her selfe to be a verie louing and duetiful child to­wardes her father: so did she likewise afterwardes shewe the like loue and charitie towardes her mother: as her duetie re­quired. Her mother Lapa was verie sicke, and her sickenes grewe on her euerie daie more and more, in such sort, that there were seene in her great tokens of death, and small hope of life. All the which notwithstanding she was so drow­ned in the wordle, that she might in no wise heare of death, and be brought to confourme her will to the will of God. When her daughter sawe that, being moued with pitie, she turned her selfe to God, after her accustomed maner, in praier, and besought him with great instance, that he would voutchsafe to prolong her mo­thers life. Our Lord made answere, that, if she could be brought to dispose her selfe to die at [Page 305] that tyme, it would be best for her: forsomuch as, if she liued longer, there were such stormes of troubles and aduersitie towardes her, as she should not be able to beare. The holie maid hea­ring that, went to her mother, and comforted her, and vsed manie sweet perswasions with her, to induce her to be content (seeing it was the will of God) to passe out of this wretched state to a more happie and blessed life. But the mo­ther, geuing but a deaffe eare to this kind of talke, charged her daughter earnestly, that she should rather praie to God for the continuance of her life: for as yet she could in no wise be brought to depart out of the wordle. Then the holie maid in great anguish and perplexitie of mynd, became a mediatrix betweene almightie God and her mother: humbly beseeching him, on the one side, that he would not suffer her mo­ther to depart, vntill she were resolued to die willingly for his loue, and earnestly exhorting her on the other side, that she should yeald her hart fully and wholly to the will of God. But she was so fixed on the wordle, that she might not abide to heare of death. Whereupon our Lord speake to the holie maid after this sort. Daughter, said he, tell thy mother, that if she will not consent to die now, a tyme shall come, when she shalbe so afflicted, that she shall desire to die, and shall not be heard. Which saying of our Lord tooke effecte within a litle tyme after: and she was in deed so miserably tormented in [Page 306] mynd with the losse of her temporal goods (vn­to the which she bare a meruelous inordinate loue) that she brake out impatiently into certaine wordes, as it were, of desperation and despite against God, saying. Is it possible, that God hath so inclosed my soule in this crooked bodie, that it can find no waie out? Haue I sent so manie of my sonnes and daughters, kinsfolkes and frindes, housband and all out of the wordle before me with great griefe, and now am constreined to remaine here alone after them all, to see my selfe ouerwhelmed with heauines and miserie? And so with this bitternes of hart and murmuring a­gainst God, she passed out of this life, without anie further contrition or repentance for her synnes. Her daughter tooke this maner of her departure meruelous heauily, and could receiue no cōfort: but, setting her selfe to praier (which she had euermore tried to be a present remedie against all euels) she sighed, sobbed, and wept verie lamentably, and powred out the griefe of her hart before God with these wordes. O my deere Lord and God, are these the promises, that thou hast made me, that there should no one of my house and familie perish in the handes of the enemie? Behold ô Lord, my mother is now passed out of this life without repentance for her synnes, without confession, without the rightes of holie Church. O sweet Lord, O Fa­ther of all comfort, I most humbly beseech thee in the bowels of thy tender mercie, that thou [Page 307] wilt not reiecte the petition of thy lowlie hand­maid at this tyme. See, ô Lord, I lie here pro­strate before thy diuine Maiestie, and will not rise out of this place, vntill my mother be resto­red to life againe, and I ascertained of her salua­tion: that thy promises maie be verified, and my soule comforted. While the holie maid was thus praying, there were a nomber of women in the chamber, some of the houshold, and some of the neighbours, that came thither at that tyme (as the maner is) to mourne and to doe such thinges, as were to be done about the dead corps. Emong these women some there were also, that gaue diligent eare to the holie maid, & heard distinctly, what wordes she spake in her praier. But they all sawe this (and were wit­nesses of the same) that, soone after the holie maid had ended her praier, the sowle returned to the bodie againe, and the woman liued after­wardes a conuenient tyme to repent her of her former offences, and so died in the state of grace. This storie did the holie maid her selfe declare afterwardes to Doctour Raimundus her ghostlie father.

Chap. 10.

ON a daie, while the holie maid was in the house of one of her sisters called A­lexia, it chāced, that two famoꝰ theeues condemned to death were caried in a cart thorough the streete towardes the place of execution. Their sentence was, that by the waie, as they were caried, they should be pinched now in one part of their bodie, and now in an other with hote yrons or pincers, and so in the end put to death. Which paine was so intolerable, that they (which were before in a desperate state, and might by no perswasions be brought to repent them of their manifold and heinous of­fences committed against God and the wordle) blasphemed God & all his Sainctes. In so much that it seemed, that the temporal tormentes, that they were now in, were but a begynning and waie to these euerlasting tormentes and fyer, that they went vnto. But our merciful Lord, whose prouident goodnes disposeth all thinges sweetly, had otherwise determined of them. When they were come neere to this house, A­lexia hearing a great concourse, and noyse of people in the streete, went to the windowe, to see, what it might be. And seeing the horrible maner of the execution, she ranne in againe, and [Page 309] said to the holie maid. O mother; if euer you will see, a pitiful sight, come now. With that the holie maid went to the windowe and looked out: and so soone as she had seene the maner of the execution, she returned foorthwith to her praiers againe. For (as she declared afterwardes secretly to Doctour Raimundus) she sawe a great multitude of wicked spirites about those fellons, which did burne their soules more cruelly with­in, then the tormentours did their bodies with­out. Which lamentable sight moued her to dou­ble compassion. She had great pitie to see their bodies: but much more to se [...] their soules, wherefore turning her selfe to our Lord with great feruour of spirite, she made her praier to him after this maner. Ah deere Lord, where­fore dost thou suffer these thy creatures, made to thyne owne image and likenes, and re­deemed with the price of thy most precious blood, to be thus lead awaie in triumph by the cruel enemie? I know, ô Lord, & confesse, that these men are iustly punished according to the measure of their offences. So was the theefe also, that hong by thee on the Crosse: whom notwithstanding thou tookest to mercie, saying that he should be with thee that verie daie in Paradyse. Thou diddest not refuse Peeter, but ga­uest him a frindlie and comfortable looke, though he, like an vnkind man, had thrice refused and denied thee. Thou drewest Marie Magdalen to thee with the lines of loue, when she had estran­ged [Page 310] her selfe from thee by her manifold synnes. Thou tookest Mathewe the Publicane from a synful trade of life in the wordle, to be an Apo­stle and Euangelist. Thou diddest not repell the woman of Cananee, nor Zacheus the Prince of Publicans, but didest most sweetly accept the one and inuite the other. Wherefore I most humbly beseech thee, for all thy mercies, hitherto shewed vnto man, and for all those also, that thyne in­finite goodnes hath determined to shewe here­after, that thou wilt voutchsafe to looke downe vpon these wretched creatures, & mollifie their hartes with the fyer of thy holie spirite, that they maie be deliuered from the second death. Our Lord heard the praier of his Spowse, and graunted her such a grace, that she went in spi­rite with those two theeues towardes the place of execution, weeping and lamenting for their synnes, and mouing them to repentance for the same. Which thing the wicked sprites perceiued well inough: and therefore they cried out vpon her, and said. Catherine, leaue to trouble vs. If thou wilt not, we will surely enter into thee and vexe thee. To whom the holie maid made this answere. As God will, so will I. And there­fore I will not cease to doe, what lieth in me, for the reliefe of these poore wretches; because I know, it is the will of God, that I should so doe. And so continuing in praier, she procured them a verie singular fauour and grace: as the effecte declared. For, when these theeues were come to [Page 311] the gate of the citie, our Sauiour Christ appeered to them, shewing to them his precious woundes all streamīg downe with blood, & inuiting them to become repētant for their former life. Which if they did, he put them in a sure cōfort, that all was quite forgeuen. At this strāge sight their har­tes were sodainly so altered (to the great wōder of as manie as were there presēt) that they chan­ged their stile, and turned their blasphemie into thākesgeuing & praysing God for his great mer­cies. And, shewing thēselues to be hartely sorie & contrite for their synnes, desired earnestly, that they might haue a Priest to heare their Cōfessiōs. That done, they went forward cheerfully towardes the place of executiō: where they shewed li­kewise great tokens of ioy & cōfort, for that they had to passe by a reproachful death to a glorious life. All the people sawe this strange alteratiō, & were much astonied at it, because as thē they vn­derstood not the cause thereof: which afterwards came to light by this meane. The Priest, that he­ard these fellōs Cōfessiōs, wēt soone after to visit Doct. Rai: the holie maides Cōfessour, & in talke declared vnto him, how wonderfully God had wrought, with thē. Doct. Rai: foorthwith begā to suspect, as it was indeed, & therfore asked Alexia, what the holie maid was doīg at that tyme, whē the theeues were lead thorough their street to­wardes the place of executiō. She made him an­swer, & declared the whole processe of the mat­ter, so much as she had seene & heard in her owne house. [Page 312] Whereby Doctour Raimundus sawe a verie great likelihood, that the thing had ben wrought (as he deemed before) by the praier and intercession of the holie maid. Howbeit for the more assu­rance he tooke an occasion afterwardes to aske the holie maid her selfe. And she (to the honour of God, and for the satisfaction of her ghostlie father) declared vnto him particularly, how e­uerie thing had passed. Within a fewe daies, after this was done, certaine of the sisters, that chaun­ced to be present, while the holie maid was praying, heard her saie these wordes in her praier with a full voice. O Lord Iesu, I most har­tely thanke thee, that thou hast deliuered them out of the second prison. Of the which wordes being demaunded afterwardes, what she meant by them, she made answere, that the soules of those theeues were as then deliuered out of Pur­gatorie, and restored to Paradyse. Such was her charitie towardes them, that, as she had by praier deliuered them from the euerlasting tor­mentes of hell, so she neuer ceased to praie for them, vntill she sawe, that they were also passed the temporal paines of Purgatorie, and receiued into euerlasting blisse.

Chap. 11.

THere was a man dwelling in the citie of Siena called Andrewe Mardine, well en­dued with wordlie substance, but bare of heauenlie ritches, void of the loue and feare of God, a baretter, blasphemer, and wicked liuer. This man about the fortieth yeare of his age, was sodainly taken with a verie grie­uous sickenes, which held him so vehemently, that he was faine to keepe his bed, where he laie & waxed euerie daie weaker & weaker vn­till at the length he was geuen, ouer by the Phi­sicions and despaired of all men. His curate hea­ring that, came to visite him, and (as his Pasto­ral charge required) exhorted him with manie wordes, that he should now in the end of his life, dispose him selfe to Confession and penance for his soules health. But he was so obstinately bent, that he litle esteemed the Priest, and lesse his counsel. Which thing his wife perceiuing (which was a good woman, and had a great de­sire to sawe her husbandes soule) ranne to di­uerse and sundrie religious persones, both men and women, & besought them, that they would come and doe their diligence to turne his hart. They came at her instance, and vsed manie per­swasible meanes to bring him to a better mynd, setting before his eyes now the horrible threates [Page 314] of hell fyer, and now the sweete peomises of the ioyes of heauen: but all in vaine. After them came the curate againe, with great heauines and care to doe, what in him laie, towardes the recouerie of this sowle, that was thus in danger to perish. He exhorted him (as he had done before) and thereunto added manie good­lie perswasions, to induce him to be repentant for his foremer life, and to call to God for mer­cie. But the wretched mans hart was so har­dened, that he might not endure to heare him speake, but scorned both him and his holesome exhortations. In so much that at the lenght he fell into plaine desperation and synne against the holie Ghost: and in that damnable state drewe on a pace towardes his end. This mat­ter chanced to come to the knowledge of do­ctour Thomas, who, hauing great compassion of the wretched mans case, went foorthwith towardes the holie Maides lodging, hoping by her mediation to find some grace in the sight of God. But when he came thither, he found the holie maid rauished from her bodilie sen­ses. And so long as she was so, he durst not doe anie thing to her bodie, wherby to bring her againe: and tarrie there anie longer he might not, bicause it wae verie late in the eue­nyng. Wherefore he gaue a verie streight char­ge to one of the sisters, that was there with her at that tyme, that, when the holie maid came to her selfe againe, she should desire [Page 315] her in his name, and also charge her in the ver­tue of her obedience, that she should extend her charitie towardes that miserable man, that laie on passing, and praie to God hartely for his recouerie. When the holie maid vnderstood the lamentable state of the sicke man, and with­all the charge, that was geauen her from her ghostlie father, she taried not, but foorthwith set her selfe to praier, and besought our Lord with great instance and feruour of spirite, that he would not suffer that soule to perish, whome he had redeemed with the price of his most precious blood. To that our Lord made answere and said, that the iniquitie of that wicked man was so heinous in his sight, that the crie thereof perced the heauens and called for iustice; for he had not only in wor­des most horribly blasphemed the holie name of God and of his Sainctes, but also with great despite and malice throwen a table into the fyer, in the which was painted the death and passion of our Sauiour Christ, together with the images of our blessed Ladie and other Sainctes. By the which facte he had deserued euerlasting damna­tion. When the holie maid heard that, she fell downe prostrate before our Lord, and said. O Lord, if thou wilt looke narrowly to our iniqui­ties, who shalbe able to stand? Wherefore ca­mest thou downe from heauen into the wor­dle? Wherefore tookest thou flesh of the most pure and vnspotted virgin Marie? Wherefore [Page 216] diddest thou suffer a most bitter and reprochfull death? Hast thou done all these thinges, ô Lord, to this end, that thou mightest call men to a streight and rigorous account for their synnes, and not rather, that thou mightest vtterly can­cel their debtes and take them to mercie? Why dost thou, ô merciful Lord, tell me of the synnes of one lost man, seeing thou hast borne vpon thyne owne shoulders, the synnes of the whole wordle, that none should be lost? Doe I lie here prostrate at thy feete to demaund iustice, and not rather to craue mercie? Doe I present my selfe here before thy diuine Maiestie, to pleade the in­nocencie of this wretched creature, and not ra­ther to confesse, that he is gyltie of euerlasting death and damnation, and that the onlie refuge is, to appeale to thyne endles mercie? Remem­ber, ô deere Lord, what thou saidest to me, when thou diddest first will me to goe abrode, and to procure the saluation of manie soules. Thou knowest right well, that I haue none o­ther ioye or comfort in this life, but only to see the conuersion of synners vnto thee. And for this cause only I am content to lacke the ioyful fruition of thy blessed presence. Wherefore, if thou take this ioye from me, what other thing shall I find in this vale of miserie, wherein to take pleasure or comfort? O most merciful Fa­ther & God of all comfort, reiecte not the hūble petition of thyne handmaid, put me not awaie from thee at this tyme; but graciously graunt [Page 317] me, that this my brothers hard hart maie be mol­lified, and made to yeald to the working of thy holie spirite. Thus did the holie maid continue in praier and disputation with our Lord, from the begynning of the night till the nexte mor­ning. All the which tyme she neither slept nor tooke anie maner of rest: but wept and wailed continually, for great compassion, that she had, to see that soule perish: our Lord euermore al­leaging his iustice, and she crauing his mercie. At the length our Lord, being as it were ouercome with her importunitie and crying, gaue her this comfortable answere. Deere daughter, I will stand no longer with thee in this matter. Thy teares and lamentable crying haue preuailed, and wrested the sword of my iustice out of myne hand. This synful man shall for thy sake find such fauour and grace, as thou requirest for him. And with that our Lord withdrewe him selfe from the holie maid, and appeered the same hower to the sicke man, and spake to him after this maner. Deere child, why wilt thou not be repentant for the synnes, that thou hast committed against me? In anie case be sorie for thyne offences, and confesse the same: and I am readie to pardon thee. That word so persed the hart of that ob­stinate man, that he relented foorth with, and cried with a lowd voice to them, that were there present, & besought them for Gods loue, that they would helpe him to a ghostlie father with all possible speed. For (said he) my Lord [Page 218] and Sauiour Iesus Christ hath shewed him selfe mercifully to me, and willed me to be confessed of all my synnes. When they heard that, they were verie much astoined (but withall mer­uelously comforted) to see that soddaine and blessed alteration in him. And they made great hast to bring him a ghostlie father: to whome he made a perfecte Confession of all his synnes with great contrition, and so passed out of this wordle in the state of grace.

Cap. 12.

THere was in the citie of Siena a gen­tleman of a worshipfull parentage, called Francis Tolomes, who tooke to wife on Rabes a gentlewoman like­wise of a good howse, and by her had manie sonnes and daughters. His eldest sonne was called Iames, a prowd and hawtie yong man, and of nature verie fierce and cruel: in so much that being yet but a child of age, he killed two men with his owne handes: which cawsed all men both to dread him, and to shunne his companie. And as he grewe in yeares, so did he also increase in malice and wickednes, and ranne without raine or bridle euen as his outragious mynd caried him into [Page 319] all kindes of mischiefe. He had two sisters, the one called Francis, the other Ginoccia: which were also dissolute and light of behauiour, and specially Ginoccia, which was wholly geuen to vaintie and superfluous decking of her selfe. And yet had she euermore a care to keepe the virginitie of her bodie: which she did, rather for feare of shame in the wordle, then for anie feare or loue of God. Which thing was no small griefe to their mother Rabes: who being a woman, that feared God, and tendred much the soules health of her daughters, went on a daie to the holie maid, and declaring the state of her daughters, besought her for Gods loue, that she would bee so good, as to come with her, and geue them some godlie exhor­tation. The holie maid, which had euermore a passing great desire to wynne soules to God, went with the gentlewoman with a verie good will, and did as she was required. And her wordes so wrought in the hartes of those two yong maidens, that they gaue ouer all the vanities of the wordle, and tooke the habite of S. Dominicke, Ginoccia foorth with, and Francis soone after. In the which rule and discipline they liued a verie streight and rigorous life: especially Ginoccia which of the two liued in greater austeritie and penance. When their bro­ther Iames, who was at that tyme abroade, heard tell of this strange alteration of his two sisters, he raged like a mad man, and cursed all [Page 320] them, that had moued his sisters to take that ha­bite. And he threatned verie boldly, that he would teare those garmentes from their backes, and bring them home againe. And no man durst aduenture to staie him in that rage, but only a yong brother of his, that was in companie with him at that tyme, who spake to him after this maner. Brother Iames, said he, you are not ac­queinted with this sister Catherine. But if you goe to Siena, you shall see; she shall turne you al­so, and make you to goe Confession. To Con­fetsion, said he? I defie thee and them all. Assure thy selfe, I will cut the throtes of all those Prie­stes and friars, before they shall bring me to con­fession. Well brother, said the child (and he re­peated his wordes oftentymes, speaking with great affiance, as though he had foreseene the euent of this matter in the spirite of prophecie) you shall find my wordes true, and shall see, that the holie maid shall bring you to grace. Those wordes set him in such a furie, that he cursed and banned, and fared like a man distracted. And in this furie he entred into the citie, and went foorth with to his fathers house: where he tooke on like a madd man, threatnyng and swearing, that he would doe manie horrible mischiefes, vnlesse they brought to passe, that his sisters, and specially Ginoccia might put off that habite, and come home againe. But his mother Rabes, who was well acqueinted with his furious nature, & therefore feared, lest he would of a sodaine do [Page 321] some mischieuous acte (as his maner was) came to him, and with faire wordes staied his rage, that he did no harme that night. And the next morning she sent for Doctour Thomas, beseeching him for Gods sake, that he would take the pai­nes to come, and geue her sonne Iames some go­dlie exhortation. Doctour Thomas came, & with him frier Bartilmewe. And they spake manie good wordes to the impatient yong man: but, for ought, that they could perceiue, all in vaine. All this tyme was the holie maid in praier, and la­boured earnestly to wynne that yong mans soule to God: for she vnderstood (not by the relation of anie man, but only by reuelation from God) in what a damnable state he stood: and she sawe in spirite, what paines those good men tooke to recouer him. And it was euidently seene after­wardes by the proofe, that our Lord blessed and furthered their charitable trauaile in that be­halfe for the holie maides sake, and in contem­plation of her deuout praiers. For when these men had spent a good tyme about him, and sawe, that they could doe him no good: at the length, while Doctour Bartilmewe was speaking to him, behold, of a sodaine, and contrarie to all expecta­tion, the yong man (being vndoubtedly tou­ched by the finger of God) resented and said of him selfe, that he was verie well content and glad, that his sisters should serue God in that ho­lie rule and discipline. And he required further­more with great humilitie, that he might be [Page 322] Confessed and absolued of his owne synnes, that he might serue God with them also. The which he did in deed verie perfectly, to the great won­der and comfort of as manie as were there pre­sent: which a litle before had seene him as fiercc as a lion, and now as myld as a lambe. His mo­ther Rabes was a ioyful woman, to see this strāge and blessed alteration in her sonne, and so were all the rest of her familie with her. Now, when Doctour Thomas and Doctour Bartilmewe his companion had rendred thankes to almightie God for this great mercie shewed vpon that yong man, they went out of hand with ioyful hartes towardes the holie maides lodging, and thought the tyme long, vntill they might im­part these glad tidinges of his conuersion to her. But when they came thither, they vnderstood, that the holie maid was aboue in an vpper chamber in praier, and rauished (as her maner was) in spirite, and one other of the sisters with her. By reason wherof they were constreined to tarrie a while. At the length, when the holie maid was come to her selfe againe, that other si­ster came downe to enterteine Doctour Thomas her Confessour: who saluted her with a cheere­ful countenance, and began foorthwith to de­clare the cause of his coming to her. Sister, said he, we are come to bring you verie good newes. Maister Iames Tolmes is by the grace of God be­come a newe man, and this mornyng hath made a general Cōfession of all his synnes to Doctour [Page 323] Bartilmewe. Father, said that sister, we haue great cause both to reioyse, and also to thanke our Lord for these ioyful tydinges. Howbeit they are no newes to vs: for sister Catherine, before I came downe to you, told me so much, as you tell me now. And with that they went vp into the vpper chamber to the holie maid: who immediatly vpon their entrie, spake to them after this maner. Fathers, said she, we are much bound to thanke our Lord and Sauiour, that neuer dispiseth the humble praier of his seruantes. And as he putteth holie desires into their hartes, so doth he also accomplish the same to their benefite, and comfort. The wicked feend had thought to haue gotten a litle lambe, of the which he had conceiued some hope. But he hath (through the vnspeakeable goodnes of God) lost a great preie, of the which he had full poses­sion. He laid for Ginoccia: but he hath lost Iames. And so it falleth out oftentymes with this rauenous and insatiable wolfe, that, while he openeth his iawes wider to geat more, he both letteth fall some better mor­sel, that he had in his mouth before, and yet misseth of that other thing, that he so griedily snatcheth after. Our Lord be bles­sed and thanked for euer more: whose pro­uident wisedome disposeth all thinges swee­tely, and turneth the wilye malice of this suttle serpent, to the benefit and comfort of his [Page 324] chosen seruantes. After this Ginoccia continued without anie molestation in that holie state of life, that she had vowed: wherein, when she had suffered manie sickenesses with a verie pa­tient and cheereful mynd, she passed out of this wordle to God, with a meruelous inward sweetnes and comfort, as it was euidently seene by the maner of her departure. Soone after, her sister Francis likewise tooke the habite and rule of the sisters of penance, and therein con­tinued with great commendation and opinion of holines, so long as she liued (which was in deed no long tyme.) And it was noted of her also, at the tyme of her passing out of this life, that she smyled sweetely, and shewed great tokens of spiritual ioye, euen when she was at the verie point of death. And this Ia­mes their brother, after that he was thus re­claimed by the deuout praier of the holie maid and diligence of good men, became a newe man, and liued in the state of matrimonie a verie quiet and orderlie life, to the great comfort of his frindes, and example of vertue to as ma­nie, as chaunced to conuerse with him.

Chap. 13.

THere was in the cittie of Siena a wor­shipful gentleman called Nannes de Vannis: which bare a great swaie emong the people, by reason that, as he was a verie fierce and warlike man, so he was also of a mer­uelous suttle and craftie wit to deale in wordlie affaires. This Nannes with the rest of his familie, allies, and frindes, mainteined a faction and perpetual quarrel against certaine other fami­lies in the cittie: who dreading his power and policie, sought by meanes and with great sub­mission, to make their peace with him. He made them answere, that it was all one to him, whe­ther they had peace or no peace, and that for his owne part, he was verie readie and willing to come to accord, if they could wynne cer­taine other to it, to whome it apperteined as well as to him selfe. And thus he gaue them verie faire wordes, and put them in hope of peace: but in the meane tyme he dealt se­cretly with those other persones, willing them to stand stiffely to it, and in no wise to condescend to anie condicions of peace. This matter came to the eares of the ho­lie maid: which, seeing herein a goodlie occasion ministred vnto her of working a verie charitable [Page 326] worke, sought by manie meanes to speake with him. But euermore, when he vnderstood, that she was comyng towardes him, he fled from her, euen as the serpent is wont to flee from the en­chantour, that cometh to charme him. At the length, by the importunitie of a certaine holie Heremite of S. Augustines order, called brother VVilliam, an English man, they wonne so much of him, that he was content to heare the holie maid speake, but yet with this protestation, that, whatsoeuer she said concernyng the accord, he was fixed, and would not be remoued. And with this resolution he went to the holie maides house, at a tyme, when she was a­brode by a verie vrgent occasion of procuring the health of soules. But Doctour Raimundus by the prouidence of God was there at that tyme: who vnderstanding, that Nannes was comyng, was verie glad of it (for he knewe, that the holie maid had a great desire to speake with him.) Wherefore he went out to meete with him, and to geue him enterteinement vn­till her returne. When they were come into the house, Doctour Raimundus lead him the waie into the holie maides chapple or orato­rie: where he caused him to sit downe, and ministred such talke vnto him, as he thought most conuenient to protracte the tyme. But, after that they had sate there a litle while, and sawe that she came not: Nannes, thought the tyme long, and therefore began to breake [Page 327] with Doctour Raimundus after this maner. Fa­ther, said he, I promised brother VVilliam, that I would come hither and speake with the holie maid. But now, seeing she is abrode about some other busines, and I haue at this present certaine affaires, that must needes be dispatched out of hand: I praie you, excuse me vnto her, and tell her, that I would gladly haue spoken with her, if she had ben at home. Doctour Raimundus was verie sorie, that the holie maid came not awaie. Howbeit to wynne yet a litle more tyme, he tooke occasion to enter in talke with him concernyng the peace, and asked him, how the matter stood betweene such and such persones. Whereunto he made answere after this maner. Father; said he, to you that are a priest and religious, and to this blessed maid, of whome I heare report of great vertue and holines, I will make no lie, but tell you plainely and syn­cerely, how the case standeth betweene these men. True it is, that I am he, that let­teth this accord and agreement: though in deed it seeme otherwise, because the mat­ter is openly contriued by others. I alone do priuily mainteine and vphold one side: and if I alone would geue my consent to the peace, the matter were ended. But, to tell you my meanyng in fewe wordes, my pe­ace shalbe made and firmed with the blood of myne aduersaries. This is my resolution, [Page 328] and from this I will not be remoued. Where­fore I praie you, set your hartes at rest, and trou­ble me no more. And with that he rose vp, and tooke his leaue to depart. But Doctour Rai­mundus was verie loth to let him goe: and therefore, though he sawe, that he was vn­willing to tarrie there, and for that cause loth also to heare anie moe wordes of that, or anie o­ther matter, yet did he (to gaine more tyme) aske him diuerse and sundrie questions, and by that meanes held him there so long, that the ho­lie maid was come home and entred into the house, before he could get out of the oratorie. When Nannes sawe the holie maid, he was sorie, that he had taried so long. But she was right glad to see him there, and bad him welcome after a verie charitable and louing maner, and caused him to sit downe againe. And when he was sette, she asked him the cause of his comyng. He made her answere, and declared so much in effecte, as he had declared before to Doctour Raimundus, adding his protesta­tion withal, that concernyng that matter of the peace, he would abide no talke: for he was resolutely bent to the contrarie. The holie maid hearing that, began to exhort him to brotherlie loue and concord, and shewed him withal, what a dangerous and damnable state they were in, that liued out of charitie. But he gaue but a deaffe eare to her wordes. Which thing she perceaued well inough: and [Page 329] therefore she sate still, and spake no more to him, but, casting vp her eyes and hart to God, she besought him of grace and mercie for that hard harted man. When Doctour Raimundus, which had euermore a diligent eye to the holie maid, had espied that, he spake some wordes to Nannes to occupie him the while: nothing doubting, but that she should worke some better effecte in him by that silent praier, then both he and she had done before with manie wordes. And so it prooued in deed: for within a litle tyme af­ter, he spake to them both after this maner. It shall not be said of me, that I am so hard and vn­tractable, that I will haue myne owne mynd in all thinges, and relent in nothing. I will con­descend to your mynd in some one thing, and then I will take my leaue of you. I haue fower quarels in the cittie: of the which I am content to put one into your handes. Doe in it, what you shall thinke good, make you my peace: and I will abide your order. With that he rose vp, and would haue gone his waie. But in the rising, being inwardly touched, he said these wordes to him selfe. O Lord, what comfort is this, that I feele at this instant in my soule, vpon the only namyng of this word (peace?) And soone after he said againe. O Lord, O God, what ver­tue or strength is this, that holdeth and draweth me after this sort? I haue no power to goe hence: I can denie you nothing, that [Page 330] you require me. O Lord, ô Lord, what thing maie this be, that thus enforceth me? And with that he burst out into weeping, and said. I am quite ouerthrowen: I am not able to make anie longer resistance. Then sodainly he cast him selfe downe at the holie maides feete, and with meruelous great submission and aboun­dance of teares said these wordes. O blessed maid, I am readie to doe, whatsoeuer you commaund me, not only in this matter of peace, but also in all other thinges, what­soeuer they be. Hitherto, I knowe well, the deuel hath lead me vp and downe fast tied in his chaine, but now I am resolued to folowe you, whether soeuer it shall please you to lead me; And therefore I praie you for charities sake, be you my guide, and teach me, how I maie deliuer my soule out of his bandes. At those wordes, the holie maid turned to him, and said. Brother, our Lord be thanked, that you are now, through his great mercie, come to vnderstand, in how dangerous a state you stood. I spake to you concernyng your soules health: and you made light of my wordes. I spake to our Lord touching the same matter, and he was content to he­are me. My aduise therefore is, that you do penance for your synnes in tyme, for feare of some sodaine calamitie, that maie fall v­pon you, which, finding you vnprouided, maie otherwise beare you downe and quite ouer­whelme [Page 331] you. This gentleman was so inwardly striken with these wordes of the holie maid, that he went foorthwith to Doctour Raimun­dus, and made a generall Confession of all his synnes with great sorrowe and contrition. And so, when he had made his peace with almightie God, by the aduise of Doctour Rai­mundus and vertue of the holie Sacrament of penance: he was content likewise to sub­mit himselfe to the order of the holie maid, and according to her direction and arbitre­ment to make a firme peace with all his ad­uersaries. Within a fewe daies, after this Man­nes was thus conuerted, it chaunced, that he was taken by the gouernour of the citie, and cast into a streight prison, for certaine ou­trages, that he had committed before. And it was commonly talked emong the people, that he should be put to death. The which when Doctour Raimundus vnderstood, he came to the holie maid with a heauie cheere, and said. Loe, mother, so long as Mannes ser­ued the deuel, so long did all thinges goe pro­sperously with him. But now, sence the tyme, that he began to serue God, we see, the wordle is wholly bent against him. This sodaine alteration putteth me in great doubt and feare of the man, lest, being as yet but a yong and tender branch, he should be broken of by the violence of this storme, and so fall into despaire. Wherefore I [Page 332] beseech you hartely, good mother, commmend his state to God in your praiers. And as you haue by your mediation deliuered him from euerla­sting death, so doe your endeuour also to deliuer him from this temporall and imminent danger. To that the holie maid made answere; Father, said she, whie take you this matter so heauily? Me thinketh, you should rather be glad of it. for by this you maie conceiue a verie sure hope, that our Lord hath pardoned him all his syn­nes, and changed those euerlasting paines, that were due to him for the same, into these tem­porall afflictions. When he was of the wordle, the wordle made much of him: as one that was his owne. But nowe, sence he began to spoorne at the wordle, no meruaile, if the wordle do likewise kicke at him againe. As for the feare, that you haue, lest he, being ouerlaied with these calamities, should fall into despaire: be of good comfort, and assure your selfe, that the merci­full goodnes of our Lord, that hath deliuered him out of the deepe dongeon of hell, will not suffer him to perish in prison. And as she said, so it prooued in deed. For within a fewe daies after he was deliuered out of prison. His life was in deed spared, but for that, they set a great fyne of money on his head. Whereof the holie maid was nothing sorie, but rather glad: for, said she, our Lord hath mercifully taken awaie from him tha poison, with the which he had before, and might agine, haue poisoned him selfe. So soone [Page 333] as this Mannes was thus deliuered, he like a gra­tefull gentleman, ascribing the benefite both of his foremer recouerie out of synne; and also of this his deliuerie out of prison, to the merites and praier of the holie maid, made a deed of gyfte to her of a goodlie palace, that he had, four myles from the citie. Of the which, by licence of Pope Grogorie the eleuenth, she made a mo­nasterie for her spirituall daughters the sisters of penance, and dedicated it to our blessed Ladie, and in the honour of her, named the place. Our Lord of Angels? And he, after this happie con­uersion, was wholly directed by doctour Rai­mundus, and lead a verie blessed life.

Chap. 14.

EMong a nomber of strange gyftes, that were in this holie maid, one was, a mer­uelous singular grace, that she had in drawing the hartes of men vnto God, not only with the wordes, that she spake vnto them, but also with her onlie presence. And in this she so much passed all, that we read or heare reported of other great Sainctes, that it might seeme incredible, but that it pleased al­mightie God to make it knowen to the wordle, by diuerse and sundrie effectes, wrought in such sort, that they could not be couered. Manie [Page 334] tymes, as she was passing from place to place, the people came out from all sides by hundreds and thousandes to see her: of the which great nombers were wonne to God by her godlie exhortations, and went foorth­with to be confessed of their synnes with great sorrowe and contrition. Of the which thing when Pope Gregorie the eleuenth was enformed, by the report of credible persones, to further her charitable trauaile in winnyng of sowles to God, he made her a speciall graunt by his bull or letter patent, that she might haue alwaies three learned confessours about her: vnto whome he gaue authoritie to absolue from all kindes of synne, in as ample maner, as anie bi­shop hath within his diocese. And those three confessors were so thoroughly occupied, by rea­son of the great multitudes, that were turned to God by her meanes, that Doctur Raimundus (who was one of the three, and euermore assi­stant to her) reported both of him selfe and of the other two also, that manie tymes they sate in confession from morning to night, without anie bodilie recreation or refection: yea and sometymes, when night came, had scantly so much leisure, as to receiue a litle sustenance. The which when the holie maid perceiued, she gaue charge to the rest that were about her, that they should haue a care of the confes­ssours, and prouide them of thinges necessarie. Which was in deed verie requisite for they [Page 335] were so intentiue to their spirituall haruest, and tooke such a passing inward delite, to see the wonderfull increase, that almightie God had sent in all places, where they tra­uailed with the holie maid, that they liue mynded either meat or drincke, or anie thing els belongyng to the bodie. And when all bo­dilie recreations failed, it was no small recrea­tion and comfort to them, to see the holie maid her selfe, what a spirituall Iubilee she kept, and how her hart did as it were leape and daunce for ioye, when she sawe such nombers of soules to leaue the broade waies of their ac­customed synfull life, and now by her dire­ction to walke in the narrowe pathes of Gods holie commandements. And as the wordes of the holie maid, had a wonderfull vertue and strenght in drawing the hartes of such as were present and might heare her speake: so had she also a singular gyfte of perswasion in her writinges to them that were absent, and might not heare her wordes: as it maie appeere by her letters writen with a meruelous heauenlie grace and eloquence, to Popes and Cardi­nalls, to Kinges and Princes, to Bishops and Prelates, to Lordes and Rulers, to communi­ties and common weales, to Magisitates and priuate citisens, to religious persones both men and women, and also to diuerse and sundrie secular persones. And such was her zeale and charitable affection towardes all [Page 336] kindes of men, that, whether they were present or absent, she omitted not to doe good, where soeuer occasion was ministred.

Cap. 15.

AFter that this chosen vessell of God was apointed to shewe her selfe to the wordle (as is before declared) to beare the name of Christ before kinges and rulers, and all other states of men and wo­men: she made diuerse and sundrie sermons in the presence of Pope Gregorie the eleuenth, with such a wonderfull grace, eloquence, and autho­ritie, that the Pope him selfe, and all, that were about him, were astoined to heare her. And afterwardes, being required by Pope Vr­banus his successour to doe the like in open con­sistorie, she made such a wonderfull and dread­full oration, concerning the particular prouiden­ce of God ouer his Church, and ouer the head pastour of the same; (whom she declared to be the said Pope Vrbanus the sixt, affirming con­stantly before them all, that she vnderstood so much by a most certaine reuelation from God:) and she rebuked both the pope and all his Car­dinals [Page 337] with such a constant boldnes, for their base myndes and lacke of manlie courage in Gods cause; that they were all enforced to con­fesse, that it was not she that spake, but the spi­rite and wisedome of God in her. Whereupon Pope Vrbanus, turning him selfe to the rest, said these wordes. Behold, brethren, how contem­ptible we are become in the sight of God, for being thus fearefull in his cause. Our Lord hath sent here a seelie woman, to controll and re­proach vs of cowardise. I call her a seelie wo­man, not for anie defecte, that I note in her, but only to expresse the frailtie of her sexe or kind, which (as you knowe) is naturally more subiecte to feare, then we are. It would be thought in this case, that she (as a woman) should be timo­rous, and we manlie and stoute. But we see nowe, that we are faint harted and deiected, and she contrariwise verie full of manlie courage and comfort. It is surely a great shame and re­proach to vs all, that we haue need to be com­forted at this tyme by a woman. Howbeit, seeing it is the will of God to send vs such a comforter, let vs accept it: especially considering that her wordes are most true: which are, that the vicare of Christ ought not to feare, though the whole wordle should set them selues in ar­mes against him: for so much as almightie God, who hath taken the charge and protection of him, is stronger then the wordle. When the pope had said these wordes, he turned him selfe to the [Page 338] holie maid, and gaue her a verie graue testimo­nie of vertue and holines. And when he had so done, he opened the treasure of the Church, and gaue manie spirituall graces, both to her, and to them, that were there with her Manie other collations did she make, in places, where occasion was ministred to edifie soules, to the great profit and comfort of them, that heard her: as it maie appeere in part by some thinges, that are alreadie declared in this booke before, and more by this present matter and some other thinges, that shalbe declared hereafter.

Chap. 16.

ABout the yeare of our Lord 1375. the citie of Florence, which had in fore­tymes shewed it selfe euermore loiall and obedient to the Sea Apostolike, being moued, partly by the instigation of cer­taine euell disposed citizens, that were in autho­ritie, and partly also (as it was thought) by the lewd demeanour of some insolent persones, that bare office in the Church, began to with­drawe their obedience, and to ioyne them selues [Page 339] with the enemies of the Church. By reason whereof there ensued a general reuolt in Italie, almost of all the territories, that belonged to the Sea Apostolike: which were at that tyme (as it is reported) to the nomber of three score cities, and ten thousand walled townes. Pope Gregorie the eleuenth seeing that, pro­ceeded against the Florentines by waie of ex­communication: whereof it came to passe, that their merchantes and trauailers, wheresoeuer they went, were taken, robbed, and spoiled in all places, and debarred of all trafficke with other nations. The which smart and losse of temporal goods so pinched them, that they were enforced to seeke all possible meanes, how they might be reconciled to the Popes holines againe. And because they vnderstood, that the holie maid was in great credite and fa­uour with the Pope, by reason of her ver­tue and holines: the lordes and principal ru­lers of the cittie thought good, that Do­ctour Raimundus her Confessour should be sent before, as it were to make her waie. And that done, they sent for the holie maid also. And when she was come almost to the cit­tie of Florence: they went out against her, to receiue her with all honour: and besought her for Gods loue, that she would take the paines to goe to Auinion (where the Pope was then resident) and to entreate him to condescend to certaine reasonable condicions [Page 340] or peace. The holie maid had such a passing desire to make peace, that she cast no doubt neither of the trauaile and tediousnes of the long iourney, nor yet of the effecte of her paines with the Popes holines, but tooke it vpon her with a verie good will. When she came to Auinion, she spake to the Pope so effectually, and vsed such perswasible mea­nes to induce him to condescend to the peace, that he without anie further deliberation or sticking at the matter, made her this reso­lute answere. Daughter, said he, that you maie see, how much I tender peace and con­cord, I put the whole matter in your hand: Doe in it, as you shall thincke good. Only this, haue a regard to the honour of the Church. And with that he reuoked his pro­cesse and sentence of excommunication against the cittie of Florence: by reason wherof, they had some respite for a tyme, from such vexations and troubles, as they suffred be­fore in all places, where they had trafficke with other nations. The which when cer­taine craftie persones, that bare the swaie at that tyme emong the people, perceiued, they thought to vse the oportunitie of that re­lease, to the furtherance of their malicious in­tent, which was to hinder the peace. And though they spake openly of pacification, yet did they worke couertly by all possible mea­nes, to depraue and discredite, whatsoeuer [Page 341] was spoken or done for the confirmation of the same. In so much that, when the holie maid sent the condicions of peace to them, requiring them to set their handes to them, and to make a publike instrument vpon the same (as the maner is, when anie compo­sition of peace is made) they denied vtterly to doe it. The which thing Pope Gregorie foresawe verie well, and in deed said these wordes to the holie maid, before she sent vnto them. Beleeue me, Catherine, (said he) these Florentines haue beguyled thee. And either they will send thee none answere at all, or, if they doe, they will not doe it to such effecte, as thou requirest. And in truth as he said, so it was; For afterwardes, when the Embassadours came from Florence to the Pope, and it was thought, that they should haue conferred with the holie maid, they refused it plainely, and said, that they had no such commission. The holie maid seeing that, was in deed verie sorie to see ther vnhonest and craftie dealing. Howbeit she ceased, not to asswage the displeasure of the Popes holines iustly conceaued against them: and she vsed meruelous meanes to perswade him, that he should rather shewe him selfe a pitiful father towardes them, then a rigorous iudge. While the matter stoode in these termes, the Pope, being resolued to returne againe to the cittie of Rome [Page 342] (which was also wrought by the wonderful perswasion of the holie maid) thought good to differre this treatie of peace with the Florenti­nes, vntill he came thither, where it might be done with better oportunitie. And so the Pope returnyng to Rome, the holie maid with Do­ctour Raimundus and the rest of her companie went home to Siena: where she busied her selfe (after her accustomed maner) about the wyn­ning of soules to God.

Cap. 17.

AT what tyme these thinges were in doing, it chanced, that Doctour Rai­mundus was verie familiarly acqueinted with a worshipful gentleman of Flo­rence called Maister Nicolas Soderines, who was well thought of emong all good men for ver­tue and godlines. Doctour Raimundus reaso­nyng with him on a tyme, and complainyng of the vniust dealyng of the Florentines in that treatie of peace, the gentleman made an­swere, that in truth it was the fault of some fewe; which being in office and authoritie e­mong the people, were able to lead the mul­titude, where they listed. And if those fewe could by anie meanes be displaced, he doubted [Page 343] not, but that anie iust demaund would be heard emong the people. When Doctour Rai­mundus had heard that, he conferred with the holie maid, and by her aduise drewe out cer­taine treaties of peace, which were thought both verie honorable, and also verie profita­ble for both parties, if they might be recei­ued, and exhibited the same to the Popes holines▪ as sent from her. And declared with­all, what he had heard of the afore named gentleman, concernyng the hinderance of the said peace. Within a fewe daies after, the Pope called for Doctour Raimundus againe, and spake vnto him. I haue (said he) recei­ued letters, in the which it is signified vnto me, that, if the holie maid will goe to Flo­rence, the peace is like to be concluded. To that Doctour Raimundus made answere, that not only the holie maid, but he also, and all the rest of her spiritual sonnes and daugh­ters, would be found readie at all tymes to offer them selues to Martyrdome, when­soeuer anie like occasion was ministred, to shewe them selues dutiful and obedient chil­dren to our holie mother the Church. No, said the Pope, I thinck it not good, that you should goe at this tyme. It maie be dan­gerous for you. But she, being a woman, and also holden in great reuerence emong them for her vertue and holines, maie (I thinke) goe without anie danger. And so it [Page 344] was concluded: and the Pope wrote his letters to the cittie of Florence, in the which he gaue her a meruelous testimonie of holines: and with the same sent her as an oratrice from the Sea A­postolike. When she came to Florence, she was receiued of the godlier sort with all honour and reuerence: and by the meanes of the afore men­tioned Maister Nicolas Soderines, came to conferre priuately with manie of those citizens, that liued in the feare of God: who were easilie induced by her to accepte the peace, that was offred vnto them by the Popes holines. After this she went and conferred likewise with that companie or partie of the cittie, that were called Guelphi; and to them set out with manie vehement wordes, what a prowde, insolent, and vngrateful part it was, to hinder that holie peace, calling those fewe, that were the doers therof, enemies and vndoers of all common weale, and therefore vn­meete to beare office emong the people. She de­clared furthermore, what a profit was like to in­sue to their cittie, by that peace, if it might be re­ceiued, not only in their temporal goods, but also (and much more) for the furtherance & edifying of soules. Then she shewed the heynousnes of their faicte to be such, in the sight both of God and man, that, if the rigour of lawes and iustice should be extēded vpon them, they had deserued to be extremely punished in bodie and soule. Last of all she gaue them to vnderstand, what a fa­therlie loue the Popes holines bare to them, and [Page 345] how inclinable he was to shewe mercie, if they would submit them selues & seeke it at his hāds. And these pointes she set out vnto them with such a comelie grace & with wordes of such effi­cacie, that all those Magistrates, (with manie o­ther honest citizens) being brought by her talke into an vtter misliking of their present trouble­some state, and also into a great loue and longyng after that blessed peace, which, they sawe euidē ­tly by her wordes, must needes turne them to ve­rie great cōmoditie and comfort, wēt foorth with to the lordes and nobilitie of the citie, & perswa­ded with thē, that in anie case they should seeke to be recōciled to the Popes holines. And because certaine persones ther present had openly impu­gned this peace, and specially one capitaine or principal man of the partie called Guelphi, (which were in nōber eight) had spokē against it in plaine wordes, they depriued thē of their offices. Whe­rof there ensued a great turmoyle in the citie, by reason that the persones so depriued, for enuie & malice, & to be reuēged of those, that had caused it, sought by the fauour of the people to cause ma­nie other to be depriued also: & in the end caused so manie to be depriued, that for lacke of discreete Magistrates, there grewe much disorder in the common weale. And though the holie maid did shewe openly at all tymes & in all places, that she had no liking of these broiles, but rather great heauines & sorrow to see, that, whereas her me­aning was to set thē at vnitie & concord abrode, [Page 346] her charitable trauaile was, through the ma­lice of certaine euel disposed persones, made an occasion of ciuile discord and tumult at home: yet there lacked not a nomber of wic­ked and diuelish men, which bare the com­mon people in hand, that the holie maid and such as she dealt withal, were the cause of rai­sing those troubles in the citie. Whereupon first of all they bent them selues against those men, that had ben doers in anie degree about the afore mentioned depriuation. And of them, some were driuen out of the cittie; some were slaine: and some were constreined to flee for feare. Then they began to make outcries against the holie maid her selfe. Some said: Come, let vs goe to that naughtie womans house. Some others said. Let vs kill the queanc, and cut her in peeces. With these and other the like wordes, those good folkes, that kept her, were put in such feare, least some great mischiefe might come either to them selues or to their houses for her sake, that they entreated her to depart. Whereat she shewed her selfe to be no more moued (neither in wordes, nor yet in coun­tenance) then if there had ben no such thing. But smyling sweetely to her selfe (as her ma­ner was) and speaking comfortably to the rest, she went her waie into an orchyard not farre from thence. Where, when she had made an exhortation to those deuout persones, that were about her, she set her selfe to praier. While the [Page 347] holie maid was thus praying in the orchyard a­fter the example of our Sauiour Christ, there came rushing in vpon her a fierce companie of cruell men, with clubbes, speares, and swoordes readie drawen, showting and crying horribly: Where is that naughtie woman? where is that cursed wretch? where is she? With the noyse of this outragious and beastlie crie, the holie maid, being, as it were, violently broken of the sweet sleepe of her meditation, start vp sodainly, and ranne to meete with them, with as louelie and cheerefull a countenance, as if she had ben a yong spouse, and had gone to receiue her loue, whom she had long looked for. And seing emong them one man, that came on faster then his companie, hauing a verie cruell and murdering looke, sha­king his swoord after a dreadfull manner, and crying lowder then the rest: where is the naugh­tie woman; which is she; which is Caterine: she offred her selfe to him, and kneeling downe be­fore him, said. I am Caterine. Doe your will with me: but let these alone. At those wordes, the cruell harted man, that came with a full purpose to strike her, was so striken himself, that he had neither strength to hold vp his hand against her, nor boldnes to looke her once in the face. She kneeled boldly before him without anie weapō: and he stood trembling before her with his swoord in his hand. There lacked no will nor boldnes in her to receiue the stroke: but there lacked both strength and courage in him to geue [Page 348] it. As it maie appeere by a letter, that she wrote afterwardes to doctur Raimundus: in the which she maketh a verie pitifull lamentation; that she could not at that tyme effectually offer vp her blood to the vspoted lambe of God, that had of­fred vp his most precious blood so freely vpon the Crosse for her loue. Now, though this wic­ked attempt of these furious men was thus staied by the mightie hand of God: Yet did there re­maine such a feare striken into the hartes of all good folkes, both of the citie, and of her compa­nie and retinue, that no man hauing the boldnes to receiue her into his house, they all gaue her counsell to depart. But she, vpon a great affiance, that she had in the mercifull goodnes of God, and also as a prophetesse well assured of the finall successe and effecte of the matter, said in plaine wordes, that she would neuer depart the citie, vntill the peace were fully and perfectly conclu­ded. Which thing came to passe within a fewe daies after, (euen as she haid said) when Pope Gregorie was dead, and Pope Vrbanus chosen in his place. At what tyme the first mouers and princi­pall workers of this tumult in the citie of Flo­rence were seuerely punished, and specially tho­se, that did anie thing against the holie maid. And a firme peace was made & established betweene the Popes holines and their cittie, to the honour of God, and great comfort not only of both par­ties, but of all Christendome besides.

Chap. 18.

YF anie man doubt, whether the holie maid were learned, let him reade her workes, namely her booke of Epistles, or the Dialogue, that she wrote con­cernyng the prouidence of God, and there is no doubt, but that he shalbe fully satisfied and per­swaded, that no creature could euer haue concei­ued such pointes of high and heauenlie learnyng without a verie special grace & light geuen from God. And as she shewed her selfe to be diuinely learned by a nomber of bookes and treatises, that she endited and set out to the wordle: so did she also meruelously satisfie yea and passe the expe­ctation of all learned men, that came of purpose to appose her, and to trie in deed, whether the opinion of such excellent knowledge generally conceiued of her, had his true grownd in her, or rather in others: (as they suspected.) Concer­nyng this point, a blessed and holie man called Steuen, sometimes her gostlie child & trained vn­der her discipline, & afterwardes a monke of the Charterhouse, writeth one verie notable exam­ple & worthie to be remembred. The which can [Page 350] not better be set out, then with his owne wor­des, which are these. When Pope Gregorie, being in Auinion, gaue much audience and reuerence to the holie maid, there came three great prelates vnto him, and said. Holie father, how thinke you. This Caterine of Siena is she of such great holines, as she is reported to be? The Pope made answere. and said. Truly, we beleeue, she is a holie virgin. If it please your holines (said they) we will goe to see her. And we beleeue (said he) you shalbe well edified. And so they came to our house foorthwith, after nyne of the clocke in sommer. When they knocked, I went to open the doore vnto them. And one of them said to me: tell Ca­terine, that we would speake with her. When she vnderstood of their being there, she came downe with doctour Iohn her confessour and certaine other religious persones in to one of the lower roomes: where, in a conuenient place, they cau­sed her to sit downe in the middle. And so they entred talke with her after a verie insolent man­ner, prouoking her to choler with their biting wordes. And emong other thinges they said. We come from the Popes holines, and are desirous to vnderstand of you, whether you be sent from the Florentines, or no: as the common brute is. Haue not they one sufficient man, to send about a matter of so great importance, vnto so great a prince? And if you be not sent by them, we mer­uaile much, how you, being a seelie woman dare presume to treate of so weightie a matter, as [Page 351] this is with our holie father the Pope, &c. But the holie maid stood fast, like an vnmoueable pil­ler, and gaue them verie humble and pitthie an­sweres: in so much that they merueiled much at it. And when she had satisfied them at the full concernyng this matter: they put out vnto her verie manie, and withall verie great questions: especially touching her abstraction and singular manner of life. And bicause the Apostle saieth, that the angell of Satan transfourmeth him selfe into an angell of light, they asked her, how she knewe, whether she were deceiued or no. And so they spake manie wordes and proposed manie questions, and in effecte protracted the tyme, vntill it was night. Sometymes Doctour Iohn would answere for her. And though he were a Doctour of diuinitie; yet were they such great learned men, that in fewe wordes they shut him vp, and said vnto him. You maie be ashamed to speake after this manner in our presence. Let her answere for her selfe: for she satisfieth vs much better, then you doe. Now, emong these three, one was an Archbishop, sometymes a frier of S. Francis order, which bare him selfe like a proud Pharisee in countenance (as it appeered) and made sometymes, as though he would not take the answeres of the holie maid. But the o­ther two at the length set themselues against him; and said. What would you haue more of this maid? Without doubt she hath declared the­se matters more plainly and more copiously, [Page 352] then euer we found them declared by anie of the doctours. And she shewed manie moe verie certaine and true tokens vnto them: and so the­re arose a great iarre emong them selues. But in the end they departed all alike satisfied and com­forted: and made this report of her to our holie father the Pope, that they neuer found a soule neither so humble nor so illuminated. Howbeit, when the Pope vnderstood, how they had ruf­fled with her to moue her to choler, he was verie angrie with them: & made his excuse to her verie effectually, declaring, that it was done without his will or consent. And he said furthermore, that, if those prelates came anie more to speake with her, they should shut the doores against them. The next daie doctour Francis the Popes phisicion said these wordes vnto me. Knowe you those prelates, that came yester daie to our house? I made him answere, that I knewe them not. Then said he to me. I assure you, that, if the knowledge of those three were put in one balance, and the knowledge of all the rest, that are in the court of Come, were put in the other, the knowledge of these three would weigh much more, then all theirs. And therefore I will tell you, that, if they had not found this maid Caterine to haue a verie good ground, she had made as ill a voiage at this tyme, as euer she made in her life. And then he commended her with verie great and effectuall wordes: which I omit in this place for breuities sake. These are [Page 353] the verie wordes of that blessed and holie man father Steuen: who was (as it is said) long tyme conuersant with her, as her spirituall sonne and scholer: and afterwardes became a monke and so consequently (for his vertue and holines) a Pri­our ouer a couent of Carthusians neere vnto Pauia. Where, being earnestly required, he wro­te a short abbridgment of the holie maides life. In the which is conteined (brefely and in effecte) the whole substance of this booke. For corro­boration wherof, he caused the said abbridge­ment to be firmed with the great seale of his couent, and to be subsigned with the handes of two publike notaries, in the presence of a great nomber of witnesses. And made this solemne protestation withall in as earnest and vehement termes, as he could deuise: that for confirmation of the truth of that whole storie and euerie point conteined in the same, to the honour of God and edifying of soules, he would be found readie at all tymes to take a corporall oathe, in what­soeuer fourme it could be most exactely deuised, and to put his hand, not only to that present writing, but also into the fyer, if it were requi­red. And of this he called almightie God to witnes, who kewe the secretes of his hart.

Chap. 19.

THe holie maid was (as we haue decla­red heretofore) oftentymes rauished in spirite, and vtterly abstracted from her bodilie senses. At which tymes it plea­sed almightie God to vtter by secret inspiration vnto the soule of his deere spouse, diuerse & sun­drie pointes of mysticall doctrine. Which she (being so rauished and abstracted) vttered in the presence of manie godlie and great learned men: which wrote, as she spake, and compiled a booke conteinyng sixe treatises. The conclusion wher­of I thought good to laie downe in this place, word for word, as it is written: bicause it com­priseth in fewe wordes, an abbridgement or briefe somme of all such matters, as are set out at large in the whole booke before. The wordes of almightie God to his spouse are these. Now most deere and welbeloued daughter, I haue satisfied thy desire from the begynnyng of my talke, vnto the last, that I had, concernyng obedience: for, if thou be well remembred, thou requiredst of me with a carefull desire (as thou knowest, I caused thee to desire) that I should make the fyer of cha­ritie to increase in thee. Thou requiredst, I saie, fouer petitions: of the which one was for thy selfe. The which I satisfied by illuminating thee [Page 355] with the light of my truth, shewing thee, that through the light of faith, with the knowledge of thee and me, by such meanes, as I declared vnto thee, thou camest to the knowledge of truth. Thy second petition was, that I should shewe mercie to the wordle. Thy third pe­tition was, for the bodie mysticall of my holie Church, beseeching me, that I should take a­waie from it darckenes and persecutions, which it suffreth at this present. And thou requiredst, that I should punish the iniquities of the e­uell vpon thee. Whereupon I declared vnto thee, that no paine, that hath an end, or is geuen in tyme, that hath an end, is able of it selfe a­lone, to satisfie for a synne done and committed against me, which am an endles goodnes. But it maie well satisfie, if it be ioyned with con­trition of hart and desire of sowle. The maner also, how this satisfaction maie be made, I haue declared vnto thee. Then I made thee answere, that I will shewe mercie to the worlde, shewing thee, that it is proper to me to be mercifull. Whereupon for mercies sake, and for the inestimable loue, that I bare to man, I sent my only begotten Sonne and word. The which thing that I might declare more plainely to thee, I likened him to a bridge, that reacheth from heauen to earth, by reason of the vnion, that is made in him, betweene the natu­re of God and man. And, to geue thee yet a fur­ther light of my truth, I shewed thee, how the [Page 356] waie to clymme vp this bridge, is by three steppes, to witte, by the three powers of the soule. And of this true bridge shewed vnto thee, I made a figure in my bodye, resembling those three steppes. (as thou knowest verie well) the first in my feete, the second in my side, and the third in my mouth. In the which I put the three states of the soule, to witte, the state imperfecte, the state perfecte▪ and the state most perfecte: in the which the soule atteineth fully to the excellencie of in­ward loue. And in each of these I shewed thee plainely, what thing that is, that ta­keth awaie imperfection: and what is the defecte or let of perfection: and by what waie one maie come to it. I spake to thee also concernyng the secret deceites of the deuels, and concernyng spirituall selfe loue. Further­more I spake to thee in these three states, of the reproofes, that my clemencie maketh. The first reproofe I put to be made in this life, before they depart out of their bodie. The second at their death; which toucheth them, that die in mortall synne. Of whome I told thee, that they went vnder the bridge by the waie of the deuell: and I shewed vnto thee of their myseries. The third reproofe (I shewed) should be at the generall iudgement: where I shewed thee somewhat concernyng the paines of the damned, and glorie of the blessed, when euerie one shall receiue the [Page 357] dowries of his bodie. In like manner I pro­mised thee, and doe promise, that with much sufferance of my mynisters I will refourme my spouse the Church: inuiting you to such suf­ferance, complainyng my self with thee of their iniquitie, and shewing thee withall, what an excellent place I haue put them in, and what reuerence I doe require, that secu­lar personnes should doe vnto them. And I de­clared vnto thee, that my will was, that their reuerence should in no wise be diminished for anie defectes or excesses, that are in them; and how much it displeaseth me, when the contrarie is done. I spake also to thee of the vertue of those, that liue like Angels: Where I touched withall, the excellencie and worthnes of the blessed Sacrament of the Aulter. A­gaine, while I was speaking to thee of the three states of the soule, thou wert desirous to be infourmed concerning the states of teares, and to know, from whence teares pro­ceede. Whervpon I declared the matter or­derly vnto thee, shewing, that the states of teares haue an accordance with the states of the soule, and that all teares doe proceede out of the fountaine of the hart. And of this I assigned the cause, proceeding orderly. Moreouer I declared, that there were fiue kindes of teares: of the which the fifte en­gendreth death. Then I made answere to thy fouerth request: which was, that I should [Page 358] prouide for a certaine particular case, that had happened: for the which I prouided (as thou knowest verie well.) And vpon this I declared vnto thee, of my prouidence both in generall and in speciall, from the begynning of the creation, vntill the end of the wor­dle. Where I shewed, how I made and doe make all thinges, with a most high and diuine prouidence, geuing or permitting all thinges, to witt, comfortes and tribulations, spiri­tuall and temporall, for your good: that you maie be sanctified in me, and my truth ful­filled in you. For my truth was and is this, that I haue created you to haue life euerla­sting: Which truth is opened to you with the blood of the Word. which is my only be­gotten Sonne. Last of all I satisfied thy de­sire, and discharged my promise made to thee, by declaring vnto thee and speaking of the perfection of obedience, and of the imperfe­ction of disobedience: and from whence it cometh, and what thing that is, that taketh obedience from you. And I put it for a ge­nerall keye: and so it is. And I spake to thee of the particular: and of the perfecte and imperfecte personnes, liuing both in religion and out of religion. Of each of these pointes I informed thee plainely and distinctly. I spake to thee likewise of the peace, that obedien­ce geueth; and of the warre, that disobe­dience causeth: adding and shewing withall, [Page 359] how by the disobedience of Adam death came into the wordle. Now I the euerlasting Fa­ther, the most high and eternall veritie, doe conclude openly, that you doe obteine euer­lasting life by the obedience of the Word, to witt, of my only begotten Sonne. And as all men haue taken death and damnation of the first man Adam, so haue all men, that will beare the keye of obedience, taken life euerlasting of the newe man Iesus Christ my most deerely beloued Sonne. Of whome I haue made you a bridge (after the tyme, that the waie of heauen was broken downe) that you maie passe without harme by this sweete and streight waie (which is a cleere and light­some truth) with the keye of holesome obedi­ence. And so passing without harme thorough the darckenes of this present life, at the last with the keye of my Word you find hea­uen open vnto you. Now I inuite thee (with the rest of my frindes and seruantes) to weepe. for by weeping and by continuall and humble praier I mynd to shewe mercie to the wor­dle. Runne therefore by this waie of truth, that thou be not rebuked afterwardes for going slowly, for there shalbe more required of thee now, then before: bicause I haue shewed my selfe vnto thee in my truth. And take good heed, that thou neuer goe out of the cell of the knowledge of thy selfe: but in this cell keepe and spend the treasure, that I haue [Page 360] geuen thee: which treasure is a doctrine of truth, founded vpon the firme and liuely rocke Iesus Christ my only begotten Sonne. And this truth is clad with a most goodlie and shy­nyng light, which dispatcheth darkenes. Whe­refore clad thy selfe with truth, my sweete and most deerely beloued daughter.

Chap. 20.

THen that deuout soule, after that she had seene with the eye of her vnder­standing, and knowen by the light of faith, the truth and excellencie of the vertue of obedience: after that she had felt it with a right sense, and tasted it in her affe­ction with an vnspeakeable desire: beholding her selfe in the diuine maiestie, she gaue thankes to almightie God, saying. Thankes be to thee, O eternall Father, bicause thou hast not despi­sed me thy creature: neither hast thou turned thy face from me, nor made light of my desires. Thou, being the light, diddest not looke to my darckenes. Thou, being life, diddest not looke to my death. Thou, being the phisi­cian, diddest not refuse my grieuous infirmitie. Thou, being the euerlasting purenes, diddest not despise me, that am full of durt and infinite [Page 361] miseries. Thou, being endles, diddest not re­iecte me, that must haue an end. Thou being the most high wisedome, diddest regard me, that am a foole: for these and manie other euels and infinite defectes, that are in me, thou hast not contemned me: thy bountifulnes, thy wise­dome, thy clemencie, thyne endles and inesti­mable goodnes hath not despised me. But in thy light thou hast geuen me light: in thy wisedome I am come to knowe truth: in thy clemencie I haue found the loue of thee, and charitie to­wardes my neighbour. And who hath inforced thee to this? Not anie vertue of myne, but only thy fatherlie loue. This loue therefore enforceth thee to illuminate the eye of my vnderstanding with the light of faith, that I maie knowe and vnderstand thy truth, that is opened vnto me, Graunt me, O Lord, that my memorie maie be found of sufficient capacitie, to receiue and keepe thy benefites. Let my will burne with the fyer of thy most sweet loue: let that fyer make my bodie to powre out blood geuen for the loue of blood, and so cause me to open the gate of heauen with the keye of holesome obedi­ence. This same request doe I also make in most hartie maner for euerie reasonable creature, both in generall and in speciall: and for the mysticall bodie of our holie mother the Church. I cōfesse, and denie not, that thou hast loued me, before I was: and that thou louest man so much, that thou art in a sort likened to one, that were ensotted [Page 362] and made a foole with ouermuch loue. O eter­nall Godhead, O euerlasting Trinitie, which through the vnion of the diuine nature hast made the price of the blood of thy only be­gotten Sonne to be of so great value. O e­ternall Trinitie, thou art a certaine deepe sea, in the which the more I seeke, the more I find: and the more I find, the more I see­ke thee. Thou dost after a sort satiate or fill the soule insatiably: for in thy botomles de­apth thou dost so satiate the soule, that it re­maineth euermore hungrie, and longyng a­fter thee, O euerlasting Trinitie, and desirous to see thee, with the light, that is in thy light. Euen as the hart longeth after the spring of runnyng water: so doth my soule long to be out of this darcke bodie, and to see thee in truth, as thou art. Oh, how long shall thy face continue hidden from myne eyes? O euerlasting Trinitie, ô fyer and botomles de­apth of charitie, dissolue out of hand the cloud of this my bodie. For the knowledge, that thou hast geuen me of thee in thy truth, doth verie much enforce me, and cause me to haue a passing desire to laie downe this heauie [...]om­pe of my bodie, and to yeald vp my life for the honour and glorie of thy name: bicause I haue tasted and seene (with the light of vnderstanding in thy light) thy botomles deapht, ô euerla­sting Trinitie, and the beautie of thy creature. [Page 363] Wherupō beholding my selfe in thee, I sawe, that I was thyne image: by reason that thou (O eter­nal Father) hast geuen me of thy power, & of thy wisedome, and of thyne vnderstanding: which wisedome is properly ascribed to thy only be­gotten Sonne. And the holie Ghost, which pro­ceedeth from thee the Father & from thy Sōne, hath geuen me a will, by the which I am made apte to loue. For thou (O eternal Trinitie) art the Creatour, and I the creature. And therefore I knowe by the light, that thou hast geuen me, in the newe creation, that thou hast wrought in me by the blood of thy only begotten Sonne, that thou art enamored with the beautie of thy creature. O botomles deapth, O euerlasting Tri­nitie, O Godhead, O deepe Sea: what greater thing couldest thou geue me, then thyne owne selfe? Thou art the fyer, which dost euer burne, and neuer waste. Thou art the fyer, which dost consume with thy heate all selfe loue in a soule. Thou art the fyer, which takest awaie all cold­nes, and dost illuminate myndes with thy light: with the which light thou hast made me to knowe thy truth. Thou art that light aboue all light, which geuest a supernatural light to the eye of our vnderstanding in such perfection and aboundance, that euen the light of faith is made more cleere by it. In the which faith I see, that my soule hath life: and in this light it receiueth thee that art the light; For in the light of faith I get wisedome, in the wisedome of the word [Page 364] thy Sōne. In this light of faith I am made strong, and constant, and able to hold out. In this light of faith I cōceiue a hope, that thou wilt not suf­fer me to faint in the waie. This light teacheth me the waie, by the which I must walke: and without this light I should walke in darckenes. And therefore I made my petitiō to thee, O eter­nal Father, that thou wouldest illuminate me with the light of this most holie faith. Truly this light is a sea, which doth feede the soule in thee the quiet and calme sea, vntill it be wholly in thee. O calme sea, euerlasting Trinitie. The wa­ter of this sea is not troubled, and therefore it causeth no feare, but geueth the knowledge of truth. This is a most cleere water, which shew­eth thinges hidden. And therefore where this most goodlie shyning light of thy faith aboun­deth, there is the soule as it were clarified and made bright by the thing that it beleeueth. This is a second glasse, which thou (ô euerlasting Tri­nitie) dost make me to knowe. The which, being holden with the hand of loue before the eyes of my soule, represēteth to me my selfe in thee, she­wing, that I am thy creature. And it doth like­wise represent thee in me, by reason of the cōiun­ction, which thou hast made, of thy deitie with our humane nature. In the light of this glasse there is represēted vnto me, & I knowe thee, the most high and excellent goodnes, the goodnes that is aboue all goodnes, the happie goodnes, the incōprehensible goodnes, the inestimable good­nes: [Page 365] the beautie, that is aboue all beautie, the wi­sedome, that excelleth all wisedome: for thou art wisdome it selfe. Thou being the food of Angels, with the fyer of charitie hast geuen thy selfe to men. Thou art the garmēt, that couereth my na­kednes. Thou feedest the hūgrie with thy sweet­nes: for thou art all sweete, without anie maner of bitternes. Wherefore ô euerlasting Trinitie, in the light, that thou hast geuē me, & I haue recei­ued, by the meanes of this light of thy most holie faith (thyne owne selfe shewīg the same vnto me by diuerse & sundrie wonderful declarations) I am come to knowe the waie of great perfectiō, to the end that frō this tyme foreward I should serue thee with light & not with darckenes, and be a glasse of a good and holie life, and so raise my selfe vp from this miserable life, in the which I haue hitherto serued thee euermore in darcke­nes: for I knewe not thy truth, and therefore I loued it not. But wherefore did I not knowe thee? Forsooth, because I sawe thee not. And wherefore did I not see thee with the light of this most holie and glorious faith? Because the myst of selfe loue had dymmed the eye of myne vnderstanding. But thou (O eternal truth) hast with thy light dissolued my darckenes. And who shalbe able to reach to thy heyght, and yeald thee thanckes for this passing great gyfte, and for the manifold and large benefites, that thou hast bestowed vpon me, and for the doctrine of truth, that thou hast reuealed vnto [Page 366] me. The which doctrine is a certaine special grace, aboue the general grace, that thou geuest to other creatures. Surely thou wouldest con­descend to my necessitie, and ro the necessitie of other creatures also: which in tyme to come, looking in it, as in a glasse, shall haue a desire to behold them selues. Thou therefore, O Lord, answere and satisfie thy selfe for me. Thou, that art the giuer, make satisfaction also for the be­nefites, that thou hast bestowed vpon me: that is, powre into me the light of thy grace, that with that light I maie yeald thee thankes▪ Cloth me, and make me to put on thy selfe, which art the euerlasting truth: that I maie runne out the course of this mortal life with true obedience, & with the light of a most holie faith: of the which light (me thincketh) thou dost euen now make me droncke a newe.

Chap. 21.

WHat a great affiance this holie maid had in the goodnes of almightie God, and how securely she reposed her selfe in the infallible truth of his word, it maie appeare verie well by a nom­ber of dangers, that she offred her selfe vnto wil­lingly, and with a great courage, when soeuer occasion was ministred to doe anie good & cha­ritable [Page 367] worke: and namely, when she had to treat with Prlnces and great personages; vnto whom she declared the truth of all such thinges, as she had to vtter vnto them, with a meruelous freedome, boldnes, and wisedome; not looking to their persones or dignities, but only to the ho­nour of God. Treating on a tyme with Pope Gregorie the eleuenth, concernyng the troubles and turmoiles, that were then in the Church, and how the same might best be quieted, she was not afraid to tell him his duetie in plaine termes, and to aduertise him in Gods behalfe, how he ought to rule and feed his flocke. Emong a nom­ber of particular informations and exhortations, that she made vnto the Popes holines at that tyme, she spake these wordes in the presence of diuerse and sundrie of his Cardinals and other Prelates. Come, said she, against these false and rebellious children with the meekenes of the Crosse, and not with the furie of the swoord: and so shall you see, that these wolues shall laie downe their heads in your lappes, and humbly submit them selues vnto you. It is not conue­nient, that the vicar of Christ should fight against his enemies with the temporal swoord. And therefore our Sauiour Christ rebuked S. Peeter, when he strooke Malcus, and said: Put thy swoord into the scabberd. Thus did she speake at that tyme to Pope Gregorie concernyng his pastoral charge: and at an other tyme concernyng the horrible stench of the vices and synne vsed in the court of [Page 368] Rome (which point was briefely touched be­fore.) And in all this talke, she neuer shewed so much as anie litle token either of flatterie or of feare: but spake with a meruelous constant and discreete boldnes, to the great wonder of as ma­nie, as heard her. In like maner, after the decease of Pope Gregorie, in the tyme of Pope Vrbanus the sixt, there was a consultation in Rome, to send the holie maid, and with her an other holie maid (whose name was also Catherine, daughter to S. Briget of Swe [...]ia) into Sicilia to queene Ione, to see, if they could by their godlie perswasions, induce her to cease that wicked and cruel re­bellion, that was at that tyme through her sup­port raised and continued against the Church. But in the end the thing taking no place, be­cause the Pope liked not of it, (no more did that other S. Catherine her selfe) Doctour Rai­mundus came to the holie maides chamber, where she kept her bed at that tyme, and laie in verie great paine, and declared to her their final reso­lution. And, for the satisfying of her mynd, he said furthermore, that he thought verily, that it was both the better and also the safer waie, that they had taken. For (said he) you are both maidens, and yong, and therefore in danger of villanie, if anie be offered: if none be, yet at the least of the speach of naughtie and slaunderous tongues. And you haue to deale there with manie wicked and cruel harted men, which, being obstinately bent to cōtinue in their [Page 369] malicious enterprise, and loth to heare anie thing to the contrarie, will not sticke to make you out of the waie, in case they see, that you are like to preuaile, or doe anie good in the matter. When the holie maid heard that, she cried out with a great feruour and vehemencie of spirite, & said. If S. Agnes, S. Margaret, and other holie Virgins had cast such perils, they had neuer worne those glorious crownes of martyrdome, that they now weare in heauen. Alas father, why saie you so? Haue not we our Spouse to accompanie vs also, euen as they had? And is not he able to defend our bodies and liues from all villanie, that shall or maie be offred vnto vs by a nōber of base and abiecte men? Surely, surely father, these feareful cogitations are but vaine, and do proceede rather of a weake faith and lacke of affiance in almightie God, then of true wisedome. At these wordes Doctour Raimundus was so striken, that, he held his peace and gaue her not one word to an­swere; For being her Confessour, and thereby vnderstanding perfectly the state of her soule, he knewe right well, that such wordes in her came not of anie inordinate heat or passion of the mynd, but only of a verie perfecte and pure zeale, that she had, to the honour of God, and aduancement of his Church. The reformation of the which she so much tēdred, that manie tymes, whē she made hir praiers vnto God for the same, she would beseech him in most hartie maner, that she might die for it in extremitie of paines [Page 370] and tormentes, and that she might afterwar­des be restored to life againe, and so die againe and againe, so oftentymes as should be thought sufficient for the obteyning of that blessed re­formation, that she so earnestly longed after. Verie manie tymes, being in praier, she would vtter these wordes with a passing great feruour of spirite. O Lord, let all the partes of my bodie, all my bones, all the marowe within my bones be beaten and pounded to­gether in a morter: only restore thy holie Church againe to her comelines and beautie. And though the whole state of her life were in deed a verie martyrdome, yet had she such a longyng and impatient desire to shead her blood for the loue she bare to Christ and his Church, that all her wordes and deedes seemed after a sort to tend to it: as it maie appeere by a letter, that she wrote to Doctour Raimundus con­cernyng the same matter. In the which it is to be seene, what a passing delite she tooke in iterating these wordes againe and againe: blood, blood: Iesus, Iesus.

Chap. 22.

WHen the holie maid vnderstood by reuelation from God, that her tyme drewe neere, in the which she should passe out of this wordle: she called all her spiritual children a­bout her both men and women, and to them all in general she made a meruelous godlie and ex­cellent sermon, exhorting them to goe forward constantly in their purposed waie of vertue, vntill they came to the perfection of the same. And in this sermon she expressed manie nota­ble pointes of doctrine, which I thought good to touch briefely in this place, for the direction of all such, as mind to walke perfectly, and not to erre in the streight patthes of a true Chri­stian life. The first and most principal point of her doctrine, & (as it were) the ground-worke of all her exhortation, was this. To a man, that cometh vnfeinedly to the seruice of God, and myndeth in deed to possesse God perfectly, it is necessarie, that he do vtterly spoile his hart, and make it naked and bare of all sensible loue, not only of all persones, but also of all creatu­res, whatsoeuer they be: and being so spoiled, that he do earnestly bend him selfe towardes God his Creatour with a single and whole hart; [Page 372] For the hart (said she) can not be wholly of­fred vp to God, vnlesse it be free from all other loue, and withal open and simple without all doublenes. And she declared vnto them, that her principal labour & studie euen from her child­hood to her dying daie had ben, to atteine to the perfection of this point.

Item she said, that no man can possibly come to such state of perfectiō, as to be able to offer vp his hart to God freely and wholly, without anie let or encombrance, vnlesse he seeke it at Gods hand by praier. And she said withal, that it is ne­cessarily required in praier, that it be grounded vpon humilitie; and that the man, that myndeth to obteine anie thing by praier, must haue no cōfidence in anie vertue or merite of his owne, but only in the goodnes of God, reputing him selfe as nothing in the sight of God. And she ad­ded furthermore, that she had ben alwaies care­ful and diligent to geue her selfe to praier, that she might haue a cōtinual habite of the same: be­cause she sawe, that of praier all vertues receiue their increase & strength, as contrariwise with­out praier all vertues decaie & fall quite awaie. And for this cause she exhorted them to geue them selues earnestly & cōtinually to the exer­cise of praier. And here she declared vnto them, that there were two kindes of praier, the one called vocal, the other mental: & that these two kindes were to be vsed, the one at tymes appoin­ted, in saying or singyng the Canonical howers and Church-seruice, the other at all tymes, ei­ther [Page 373] in acte, so long as it might be done with discretion, or els in will and desire, when it might no longer be continued actually.

Item she said, that she sawe cleerely by the light of a liuely faith, that, whatsoeuer happened to her selfe or others in this life, came all from God, not of anie hatred, that he had to anie, but of a passing great loue, that he bare to his crea­tures. And thereof she conceiued a certaine loue and readines to obey the cōmaundments both of God and also of her superiours: so taking their commaundments, as though they had come im­mediately from the mouth of God, either for the necessitie of her saluation, or els for the in­crease of vertue in her soule.

Item she said, that, whosoeuer is desirous to come to a cleane and pure state of mynd, must of necessitie refraine him selfe from all iudging of others, and from speaking vainely of the doings of others, and looke only to the will of God in all his creatures, which doth or permitteth all thinges to a good end. And for this cause she charged them verie effectually, that they should neuer iudge anie person, that is, they should not by waie of iudgement despise or condemne anie persone, though they sawe euidently with their eyes some synne committed: but contrari­wise, if the synne were manifest, they should haue cōpassion on the partie, that had offended, & praie to God for his amendment. And cōcer­nyng this point she added thus much (not as of her self, but as a most vndoubted truth receiued [Page 374] at Gods owne mouth) that manie persones, for not obseruing this precept, had failed of their final intended perfection in spiritual life, which otherwise, for a nomber of excellent vertues, that were in them, might haue prooued great Sainctes.

Item she said, that she had alwaies reposed a verie great hope and affiance in the prouidence of God, and so she exhorted them to doe: affir­myng, that she had tried by experience, that the prouidence of God was passing great, and ne­uer failed them, that put their trust in him. The which thing both she and manie other, that kept her companie, had seene verified oftentymes by verie certaine and euident miracles.

These and manie other goodlie pointes of doctrine she vttered vnto them: and in the end she concluded her long exhortation with that precept of our Sauiour Christ, exhorting them verie humbly and withal verie earnestly, that they should loue one an other. My deere chil­dren (said she) loue one an other. This saying she repeated againe and againe after a merue­lous sweet and louelie maner: and did, what she could, to make them to vnderstand, that she spake those wordes of a verie inward affection and great feruour of spirite, to the end that they should the better beare them awaie, and imprint them the deeper in their hartes. My deere children (said she) loue one an other truly and syncerely: for by this you shall shewe, that [Page 375] you are willing to be my children, and by this I shall take my selfe to be your mother. If you loue one an other, you shall be my crowne and glorie before God, and I will acknowledge you before him to be my true children, and I wilbe a continual intercessour to his diuine Maiestie for you, that as he hath voutchsafed to endue my soule abundantly with his grace, so he will also powre the like abundance of grace into your soules.

Last of all she commaunded them (after a cer­taine charitable maner) that they should keepe their desires euermore feruent and burnyng, and that they should offer vp the same before God for the reformation and good state of the Church of God, and of his vicare the Pope: af­firming of her selfe, that she had alwaies kept her hart and desires in such a feruour (especially for the space of seuen yeares before that tyme) and that she had neuer omitted (specially in those seuen yeares) to offer vp her hart and de­sires in such sort before the diuine Maiestie of almightie God. And she confessed plainely, that, for the obteinyng of this grace at Gods hand, she had susteined manie grieuous paines and in­firmities in her bodie, and that she did at that verie present susteine meruelous great and bit­ter paines for the same cause. And she added furthermore, that as almightie God had geuen licence to Satan to torment the bodie of Iob, so it seemed also, that he had graunted him power [Page 376] to torment and vexe her bodie in such sort, that from the sole of her foote to the top of her head there was no one part without his peculiar paine & tormēt in her. And as no part was void of his proper paine, so manie partes were tor­mēted with diuerse & sūdrie paines together: as it was sensibly perceiued of as manie, as stood by her at that tyme, & saw her in that great agonie.

After that she had thus ended her sermon or exhortation, she spake to them after a more fa­miliar maner, and said. My right deere and har­tely beloued, I now see cleerely, that my most louing spouse hath so disposed of me, that, when my bodie hath indured such tormentes and affli­ctions as his B. goodnes hath graunted me, my soule, continuing still in these vehemēt, fyerie, & howeful desires, shall in that state be deliuered out of this darcke prison, & so returne againe to his first original & begynning. Those, that stood about her, were meruelously astonied to see her patiēce & cheerefulnes in all her paines: Which, they sawe by verie euident tokēs, were so great & vehemēt, that, they thought it impossible for her or anie other creature to beare them, as she did (without shewing so much as anie litle sigue of sorrowe or lamentation) but that she was staied by some verie great & special grace of God. And as they wondered as her patiēce, so did they make great sorrowe and wept verie pitifully, to see their good mother in such tormentes. The which when she perceiued, she spake to them a­gaine [Page 377] after a cōfortable maner, and said. There is no cause, my deere children, whie you should be sorie to see me in these paines: considering, that these paines are the meane to bring me to death, & by death to a better life. But you ought rather, to reioyce with me: to thinke, that I shall now leaue this troublesome place of paine, and goe to rest in God that cleere & calme sea. Be of good cōfort: for I promise you faithfully, that I will stand you in better steed after my passage from hence, then euer I did or might doe, so long as I was in this darcke life full of miseries. True it is; that I do put my life, my death, & all, in the hāds of my deere and euerlasting spouse. If he shall thinke it expedient for anie creature of his, that I tarrie here still in labour and paine, I am right well cōtēted & glad (for the honour of his name & edifying of my neighbour) to suffer, if it were possible, a hundred deathes and martyrdoms in a daie. But if it be his will & pleasure, that I shall passe at this time, and in these tormentes, be you well assured, that I haue at the length with long and instant sute obteined at his hand a verie spe­cial grace, which is, that it would please him to accept my bodie, as a sacrifice and burnt offring for the reformation of his Church.

After this she called thē vnto her one by one, and gaue thē in charge, what order of life euerie one should take after her decease. Some she ap­pointed to liue in religiō, some to be Heremites, and some to be secular Priestes. Ouer the sisters [Page 378] of Penance she appointed Alexia to be mother. And she willed them all to haue recourse to Doctour Raimundus after her death, euen as they had had to her in her life tyme, and to vse his direction in all matters. When she had thus di­sposed of all thinges particularly by the directiō of the holie Ghost, which vndoubtedly spake in her at that tyme (as it was euidently seene afterwardes by the goodlie and blessed successe of all such thinges, as she tooke special order for in that extremitie) she asked them all forgeue­nes, and said. Decrely beloued, though I haue ben alwaies verie desirous of your soules health (which thing in deed I can not denie) yet I know well, that I haue failed in manie pointes: both because I haue not ben to you such a per­fect paterne of spiritual light, vertue, and good woorkes, as a true handmaid and Spouse of Christ might haue ben: and also because I haue not ben so diligent and careful about your bo­dilie necessities, as I ought to haue ben. Where­fore I most humbly and instantly beseech you all, and euerie one of you, to pardon me: and I exhort you all to hold out in the waie of vertue vntill the end: for in so doing (as I said) you shalbe my ioye and crowne before God. With that she ceased of her exhortation to them, and called for her ghostlie Father, and to him made a general Confession of her whole life: and so receiued the blessed Sacrament with meruelous great deuotion. That done, she required the rest [Page 379] of the Sacramentes: which were likewise mini­stred vnto her in due order and tyme: Last of all, she demaunded a full remission or Indul­gence, that was graunted her before by two Popes, to wite, by Pope Gregorie, and Pope Vr­banus.

After that she had thus prepared her selfe, she drewe on fast towardes her end: and being in a verie paineful and vehement fitte, it was well perceiued by her wordes and outward gestures, that she susteined a meruelous sharpe & dread­ful conflicte with the ghostlie enemie; For sometymes she held her peace, and sometymes she made answere, as it were, to some demaund. Sometymes she smyled, as though she had scor­ned his reasons: and sometymes she rose in cho­ler. Emong other thinges, one word she spake, which was noted of as manie, as were present; And surelie it maie well be thought, that it was the will of God, that she should vtter it. When she had held her peace a pretie while, at the length, setting a pleasant countenance vpon it, she made answere, as it were, to some slaunder, that the enemie charged her withal, saying. Vaine glorie? Neuer: but only the true glorie and honour of God. Which wordes were not spoken without a special prouidence of God, to remoue a sinister opinion conceiued of her, not only in the wordle, but also in manie deuout and spiritual persones, who, seeing her passing sweet and charitable demeanour towardes all [Page 380] kindes of men, and withal, how readie and de­sirous she was, not only to receiue, exhort, and comfort all such, as resorted to her at home, but also to trauaile into farre and strange countreis, to extend her charitie to as manie, as was pos­sible, doubted somewhat, that in these thinges she might either seeke the praise of men, or at the least take some delite in it, when she heard her selfe praysed. But Doctour Raimundus, who being her ghostlie Father heard her Confession both general and special oftentymes, and consi­dered of all her doinges with great warines and aduisement, gaue her this testimonie with a so­lemne protestation, that he iudged verily and tooke it vpon his conscience, that, whatsoeuer she did in that kind, she did it by special inspira­tion and commaundment from God, and that she did not so much as thinke, either vpon the praises of men, or vpon the men them selues, but only, when she praied to God for them, or did some other charitable woorke to the edi­fying of their soules.

But now, to come to our matter againe, whē the holie maid had thus fought a long combat with the ghostlie enemie, and had in the end through the grace and assistance of God obtei­ned a full and final victorie ouer him, comyng to her selfe againe, she made a general Confes­sion, not Sacramentally, but openly, saying Con­fiteor (as the maner is) and so required the gene­ral absolution to be likewise pronounced ouer [Page 381] her. That done, it was sensibly perceiued, that all the powers of her bodie decaied foorthwith by litle and litle. The which notwithstanding she ceased not to exhort and speake comfortable wordes, not only to them, that were there a­bout her, but also to other, that were absent. Emong others, she shewed her selfe to haue a verie special remembrance and care of Doctour Raimundus, vnto whom she willed them all to haue recourse in all their doubtes and distresses for spiritual counsel. Commend me to him, said she, and bid him to be of good comfort, and not to faint or feare, whatsoeuer betide; For I will be with him, and will from tyme to tyme deli­uer him from all dangers. And if he chaunce at anie tyme to doe otherwise, then he should doe, I will geue him discipline. These wordes she re­peated againe and againe, vntill her speach be­gan at the length to faile her. Last of all, when the verie throwes of death came vpon her, she said these wordes. Lord, into thy handes I commend my spirite. And with that she gaue vp the Ghost, in the yeare of her age. 33. of our Lord. 1380. the 29. daie of April (which as then was son­daie, and the feast of S. Peter the Martyr) about eight of the clocke before noone.

Chap. 1.

AT what tyme the holie maid passed out of this life, doctour Raimundus her con­fessour chaunced to be in the citie of Genua, about such a affaires as his office required, being then the pro­uincial of his Order in those partes. And bicause there was a general chapter appointed to be kept at Bolonia within a fewe daies after for the choosing of a newe general: doctour Raimundus with certain other doctours & brethren, made them selues readie to passe by water from thence to Pisa, and so to Bolonia And when they had hyred a boate, they taried [Page] [Page] [...] [Page 387] for a good wind, which as then did not serue. in that meane tyme, vpon S. Peters daie in the mornyng (which is a solemne daie emong the Friers preachers: bicause he was a great martyr, and of their Order) doctour Raimundus went downe from his cell to the Church, to saie Mas­se. And when Masse was done, he returned backe againe to the dorter, to set him selfe in order towardes his iourney. Where passing by the image of our ladie, he said an Aue Maria soft­ly to him selfe (as the maneris:) and staied a litle while. And sodainly there was framed a strange voice (if it maie be called a voice) which expressed verie distinctly and plainely certaine wordes, not outwardly to his bodilie eare, but inwardly to his hart. The wordes were these. Be not afraid I am here for thee. I am in heauen for thee. I will protect and defend thee. Stand fast without care, and feare not. I stand here for thee. Doctor Raimundus hearing or rather con­ceiuing those wordes, (in deed more liuely expressed to this mynd, then if they had ben pronounced by the voice of anie man) was much astoined, and began to cast with him selfe, what maner of comfort and warrant of securitie that might be, and from whence he might thinke, that it came. And, bicause he was then doing a litle worke in the honour of our blessed Ladie, he began to thinke, whether it might not be she, that had geuen him those comfortable wordes. Howbeit, considering [Page 388] his owne vnworthines, he durst not presume so much. Then it came to his mynd, that there might be some great trouble towardes him: for the which cause he praied to our blessed Ladie the mother of mercie (whome he knewe to be a special comforter of all afflicted persones) that she would vouchsafe, by that her comfor­table promise, to make him more warie, cir­cunspecte, and readie to beare whatsoeuer it should pleased God to laie vpon him. And there was some cause also whie he might suspecte such troubles the more, bicause he had at that tyme preached against certaine scisma­tikes, that were in the citie: of whome he stood in some doubt, that they would haue set for him, to doe some mischiefe to him and his com­paine, as they should passe betweene Genua & Pisa. And so at that tyme he could not vnder­stand, what that voice should be, what it should meane, or whence it should come. But after­wardes, when he came to Tuscan and heard them there tell of the tyme and maner of the holie maides departure, he called this strange voice to mynd againe, and sawe by the compu­tation of the tyme, that these wordes were spoken to him at that verie hower, when the holie maid passed out of this wordle to God. Wherefore he gaue most hartie thankes, both to our Lord, and also to his blessed spouse S. Catherine, for the great grace and comfort, that they had vouchsafed to send him.

Chap. 2.

IT was reuealed to the holie maid (as she de­clared secretiy to doct: Raimundus & to doct: Thomas her confessour also) that in the king­dome of heauen she should haue the blessed vir­gin S. Agnes of mount Politian for her compani­nion, and be placed there in equal degree with her. Wherupon she bare a verie special deuotion to S. Agnes, and therefore besought her confes­sours, that they would geue her licence to goe thither in pilgrimage, with some other of her sisters, to visite the holie relikes. Which request they graunted with a good will, and went them selues also with her, to see, if almightie God would shewe anie token of his determination, concernyng the afore promised felowship that should be betweene these two holie virgins. When the holie maide came to the monasterie, she went foorthwith, (ac­compained with the sisters of her owne retinue, and most of the Nonnes of the same monasterie also) to the place, where S. Agnes bodie laie all whole and vnperished, euen as it was the first daie that it was laid there. And comyng to the holie shryne, she kneeled downe vpon the gro­und, [Page 390] and bowed her head with great reuerence and deuotion to kisse the feete. But the dead bodie of S. Agnes, as it were refusing that honour of her companion, lifted vp one foote in the presence of them al so high, that she might haue kissed it without bowing downe either bodie or head. The which thing when the holie maid sawe, she humbled her selfe the more, & stooped downe with greater reuerence. And so S. Agnes bodie drewe her legge downe againe, and set it, as it was before. This miracle it pleased almigh­tie God to worke at that tyme to the honour of those two blessed virgins, in the presence of all the aforesaid sisters of penance, and Nonnes of the same monasterie. And yet there lacked not some one or two emong them, that did (what in them laie) to depraue the maner of the miracle. Which turned in the end by the disposition of God, to the further setting out of the same; For the next daie, when doctour Raimundus with the rest of his com­panie came thither (which by occasion had staied behind) hearing by the common brute what a strange worke had ben wrought there to the honour of God and of the two blessed virgins, and vnderstanding with­all, that there was one or two euill dispo­sed women amonge them, that wente about to discredit the matter, sayinge, that the holie mayde had done it by art magicke, or otherwise by some sleyghte of the deuill, [Page 391] he called the whole couent of Nonnes together before him, by vertu of a commission graunted to him by the General of that prouince, and charged them all in the vertu of of their obedi­ence, that they should declare, what they had seene: protesting to them, that his desire was, to vnderstand the verie truth of the matter to the glorie of God, and no more nor no lesse, but only the verie bare truth. They made hin ans­were one by one, and declared so much as hath ben declared here before. Then he called one of thē before him, that laboured to impug­ne the truth of the miracle, and asked her whe­ther the matter had passed in such sort, as the rest had deposed. And she confessed plainely before them all, that it was euen so, as they had said. But (said she) S. Agnes did not worke that miracle to anie such end, as you imagin. To that doctour Raimundus made answere and said. Deerely beloued sister, we aske not you, what the meaning of S. Agnes was, bicause we knowe, that you are neither hir secretarie nor yet of her counsel. But we aske of you only, whether you sawe that lifting vp of the foote, and taking of it downe againe in such sort, as the rest of your sisters haue declared. Yea, said she: that can not be denied. When doctour Raimundus had thus put her to some shame before the whole couent, he enioyned her such penance for her offence as the order of their discipline required, and he thought most expedient for the example [Page 392] of others. An other tyme the holie maid comyng to the monasterie againe, to place two of her brothers daughters there in the seruice of God, the first thing that she did, she went to visite the holie reliques of S. Agnes, as she had done before, And there went with her certaine of her owne compaine, and certaine of the Nonnes of the same monasterie. When she came to the place, she set her selfe downe, not as she had done be­fore, at the feete, but at the head, with great ioye and cheerefulnes, and put her cheeke to the cheeke of S. Agnes, which was couered with a veile of silke, and there held it a good while. After that she had continued so a good long space, at the length she turned her selfe sodainly backe, and spake to the sisters, that were there present, and namely to her cosen Lisa, after a meruelous ioyful and humble maner, saying. Whie do you not consider of this great gyfte of God, that is sent vs here from heauen: VVhe­refore are you so vngrateful? VVith that Lisa and the rest held vp their heades, and behold, they sawe a certaine Manna, to wite a verie white and small graine, to come downe from heauen, and to couer the bodies of those two blessed virgins. And this Manna fell in such a­bundance, that Lisa filled both her handes of it, and kept it afterwardes for a relike and monu­ment, for comfirmation of the truth of this great miracle. The like chaunced to the holie virgin S. Agnes oftentymes in her life tyme, na­mely [Page 391] [...] [Page 392] [...] [Page 393] when she set her selfe to praier and medi­tation, as we read in the storie of her life, which I thought good to touch briefely in this place, for the comfort and satisfaction of such deuout persones, as are desirous to vnderstand more of her, and yet haue not peraduenture the whole storie writen, specially in our tonge. When the blessed virgin S. Agnes should be borne into the wordle, there were a nomber of goodlie lights seene in the place, where her mother trauailed, lighted by the almightie power of God, without anie helpe of man: which continued and yealded a meruelous confortable light to as manie, as were there present, vntill such time, as the babe was fully borne, and then ceased. By the which our Lord would foreshewe, what a goodlie and singular light of diuerse and sundrie vertues she should geue in tyme to come to the wordle. In her life tyme, as she grewe in yeares, so did she likewise increase in all kinde of vertue, in humilitie, patience, contempte of the wordle, and feruour towardes religion. The which state of life she tendred so much, that he buylded two monasteries of Nonnes: and in the later of the two, she liued a holie life, and died a blessed death: where it pleased God to worke manie greate and straunge miracles by her in her life time, and many moe after her death. Emonge other, this was, and is one, that her bodie con­tinueth still whole and vnputrified, euen as it was at the verie hower of her departure. When [Page 394] she was newly dead, the people in regard of the wonderful signes, that she had wrought emong them in her life, thought to haue preserued her bodie with baulme. But when they came to the bodie, they sawe that it was needles: forsomuch as there distilled a verie sweet and precious li­qour out at the endes of her fingers & toes, that passed all baulme; which was diligently gathe­red by them, and put in a viole: in the which it is kept to this daie, and at tymes shewed to the people for a perpetual remembrāce of this great miracle. The night that she died, the yong ba­bes, that laie in bed with their fathers and mothers, cried out and said. Sister Agnes is now departed: and she is a Saincte in heauen. And the next mornyng a great companie of yong children by the instincte of God gathered them selues together (and would admit none into their companie, that was not a maid) and set them selues in order after the maner of a pro­cession, and so went with candels burnyng in their handes to the monasterie, where they of­fred them vp at the bodie of the blessed virgin, euen as we are wont to doe at the monumentes of Sainctes. These and manie other miracles were wrought by almightie God in the ho­nour of S. Agnes: which caused the people of the country to haue her relikes in great price and reuerence.

Chp. 3.

ABout the yeare of our Lord 1373. ther was a great plague in the citie of Sie­na: of the which manie men and wo­men of all condicions and ages died verie soone, after they were once taken; some within one daie, some within two, and fewe or none pas­sed the third daie: which mortalitie caused a great terrour emong the people. Doctour Rai­mundus chaunced to be in the citie, at that tyme, reader of the diuinitie lesson in his couent: who, being a charitable man, & tendring more the health of soules, then the preseruation of his owne bodie, (as his profession and rule requi­red) he tooke great paines, and went by daie and by night to the houses, where he might vnder­stand anie to be sicke, to visite, comfort, and counsel them for their soules health. And manie tymes when he was weerie of runnyng thus to and fro, he vsed to turne a litle aside into an house or hospital called, Our ladie of mercie, and there to repose him selfe a while, partly for re­recreation both of bodie and soule, and partly also to speake with Maister Matthewe the rectour of the said house: whome he loued entierly for vertues sake, and resorted vnto him commonly once in the daie (and so did the holie maid also verie often) sometymes to conferre with him of [Page 396] spiritual matters, and sometymes to aske either his aduise or charitie towardes the reliefe of the poore. On a daie doctour Raimundus, going to visite the sicke after his accustomed maner, and passing by the gate of this house, went familiar­ly, to see, how Maister Matthewe did with the rest of his family. When he was entred, he saw the bretheren and clearkes busilie occupied in carying Maister Matthew from the Church tow­ardes his chamber: With that he asked him che­erfully, how he did. But Maister Matthew was so feeble and so farre spent, that he could not giue him one word to answere. Then he asked them that were about him, how that sicknes came to him. And they made answere, that he had wat­ched that night with one that was sicke of the plague, and about midnight tooke the sicknes of him: since the which time, said they, he hath re­mained (as yee see) without coloure, without strength, without spirit. When they had brou­ght him to his chamber, they laide him downe vopn his bedde. VVhere when he had rested a litle while, he came to him selfe againe, & cal­led for doctour Raimundus, and made his confes­sion to him, as he was wont often times to doe. That done doctour Raimundus spake to him com­fortablie. M. Matthew, said he, how feele yee your selfe? where is your paine? My griefe, said he, is in my flancke, and it paineth me so sore, that, me thinketh, my thighe is ready to breake in sunder. And I haue withal such a vehement [Page 397] headache, that it seemeth, as though my head would cleaue in fower partes. With that he felt his pulses, and fownd in deed, that he had a ve­rie sharpe feuer. Wherupon he caused them to carrie his vrine to a learned phisicion, that was in the citie, called maister Sensus; and soone after went him selfe to vnderstand his reso­lution and aduise in the matter. When he came, the phisicion declared vnto him, that he sawe in the water, verie euident tokens of an ague pestilential, and also of death neere at hand: for, said he, this water sheweth plainely to me, certaine bubling or boiling of the blood out of the liuer: which is the common disease, that reigneth now ouer all the citie. Wherefore I am verie sorie, for I see, we are like to leese a verie deere frend, and they of his howse a verie good rectour. What, said doctour Raimundus, is it not pos­sible by your art, to deuise some kind of me­decine, that maie doe him good? We will see to morrowe, said he, whether we can purge that blood with Cassia Fistula: but, (to tell you truely) I haue small hope of doing anie good. The disease is to farre gone. When doctour Raimundus heard those vncomfortable wordes, he returned towardes the sicke man againe with a heauie hart. In this meane tyme it came to the eares of the holie maid, that maister Matthewe was dangerously sicke, and of the plague. When she heard that, she was troubled in spirite, as [Page 398] it were against that euel (for she knewe him to be a verie vertuous man, and therefore loued him verie entierly) and forthwith went in great hast towardes his howse. And before she came at him, she cried out with a lowd voice saying. Maister Matthewe rise, rise vp maister Matthewe. It is no tyme to lie now sluggyng in your bed. At that word, and at that verie in­stant, the paine in his slancke and headache, and the whole disease forsooke him quite, and he rose vp as merrie and as sound in all his bodie, as if there had neuer ben anie such disease vpon him. And when he was readie, he honoured the the holie maid, and gaue her most humble thankes, saying, that he knewe now by ex­perience in his owne bodie, that the power of God dwelled in her, and wrought stran­ge thinges by her. But she might not abide to heare anie wordes, that tended to her owne commendation, and therefore she went awaie. As she was going out, doctour Raimundus came towardes the howse, and met with her in the gate, looking verie heauily of the matter: (for he knewe nothing of all this, that was done in the howse, but came directly from the phisi­cion. When he sawe her there, being as it were ouercome with sorrowe he said to her. O mo­ther, will you suffer this good man, that is soe deere to vs, so profitable and necessarie to mà­nie others, to die after this sorte? To that shee made answere verie humblie, shewing in deed, [Page 399] that she had no liking in such wordes. O Father said shee, what maner of talke is this, that you vse to mee? Take yee me to be a God that you would haue me to deliuer a mortall man from death? I pray you, said he, speake these wordes to some other, that is a stranger to you, and not to me, that knowe your secretes. I knowe right well, that, whatsoeuer you aske of God hartely, he will grant it you. With that she bowed dow­ne her head a litle, & smyled: and after a tyme, looking vp to him againe cheerefully, she said these wordes. Father, be of good cheere: for he shall not die at this tyme. VVhen doctour, Raimundus heard those wordes, he was a glad man, for he knewe well, what grace and prero­gatiue was geuen to her from aboue. And so he went into the house to comfort his frind, not knowing in deed, that he had no need of it, but supposing, that the thing had ben yet to do, that was alreadie done. VVhen he came in, he found him sitting vp in good health and liking, decla­ring vnto them, that were about him, the maner of the miracle, that was wrought vpon him selfe. For the further confirmation wherof, the table was laid, and they eate together that mor­nyng, not such meates, as sicke men vse to eate, but rawe oynions and such other grosse meates, as can not be digested, but only in whole stoma­kes. And as they were eating, they tooke great pleasure to recite the wonderful thinges, that it pleased God to worke by the holie maid. In the [Page 400] tyme, while this contagious disease reyned in Siena, it chaunced a certaine Hermite called Sanctus, that liued in an Hermitage a litle with­out the citie, to be infected with the same. The which thing when the holie maid vnderstood, she caused him to be taken out of his cell, and brought to this afore mentioned hospital of our Ladie of mercie. VVhere she came to him with certaine other of her sisters, & tended him, pro­uiding for him, all such thinges, as she thought necessarie or requisite for a man in that case. And to comfort him with wordes also, she put her head to his, and whispered him softely in the eare, saying. Be not afraid, howsoeuer yee feele your selfe: for yee shall not dye at this tyme. But to the rest that were there, she said no such thing but rather, when they entreated her, that she would praie to God for his recouerie, she gaue them but an vncomfortable answere: which made them verie sad, for they all knewe him to be a holie man, and therfore both honoured and loued him verie tenderly. The disease increased howerly more and more, and he decayed so sen­sibly, that they, dispairing his life, gaue ouer the charge of his body, and looked only to the health of his soule. At the length, when he was in extreames, & they all stoode about him with greate heuines, looking only when he woulde giue vp the ghost: the holie maide came to him againe, and said in his eare. Be not afraid, for yee shal not die at this time. The sicke man both [Page 401] heard & vnderstood that word. (though before it seemed, that he was past all sense.) And he tooke comfort in it, rather crediting the word of the holie maid, that sounded in his eare, then the throwes of death, that griped him by the hart. Howbeit he shewed no token of amende­ment: and therefore they not vnderstanding, what she had said, prouided lightes and other thinges necessarie for his burial, looking still, when he would depart out of this life. And in this howerly expectation of death, they conti­nued certaine daies (longer in deed, then men are wont to liue, that are sicke of that disease.) At the length when it seemed, that he was euen passing out of the wordle, the holie maid came to him againe, and spake these wordes in his eare. I commaund thee in the name of our Lord Iesus Christ, that thou passe not at this tyme. At that word he tooke comfort of spirite and strength of bodie, and rose vp in his bed, and called for meate: and, in the presence of them all eate his meate with good appetite, and receiued perfecte health, and liued after manie yeares: and was one of them, that were present with the holie maid in Rome, when she departed out of this wordle. And he declared afterwardes what wordes the holie maid spake in his eare, & how by the vertue of the same his soule, that was vpon the verie point of departing out of his bodie, was mightely reteined: adding fur­thermore that he esteemed the miracle, that was [Page 402] wrought vpon him selfe, to be no lesse, then if she had raised him vp againe from death to life: and that without all doubt it was no natural cause that had restored him againe, but only the almightie power of God, working by the meanes of that holie maid. During this tyme of pestilēce in the citie of Siena, it pleased God to worke an other miraculous cure by the meanes of the holy maid vpon Doct: Raimundus her owne ghostlie father, after this maner. The plague increased so sore; and the inhabitantes fled so fast for feare of infection (not only the citizēs, but also the prie­stes and religious persones) that manie soules re­mained without comfort or counsel. But doct: Raimundus taried still in the citie & would not re­moue, but determined with him selfe, that he would visite & helpe as manie, as he could possi­bly. The which charitable purpose being once knouē, he was so much called vpō & to earnestly intreated to come now to one house and now to an other: (bicause there were fewe or none to helpe him) that he had scantly leisure to eate his meate or to take his rest. One night, whē he had rested on his bed, & thought to haue risen vp af­ter his accustomed maner to say his seruice, he felt a verie great paine in his flāke. And feeling with his hand, he found, that there was a great sweel­ling in the place: (which made him sore afraid.) For experience had taught him, that the disease begā commonly after that maner. Wherfore he laie still in his bed, & durst not rise, but began to [Page 403] thinke of death: euermore wishing, that it had ben daie, that he might haue gone and spoken with the holie maid before the disease had taken full place in him. In the meane tyme the ague came vpon him, and withal a great hedach which tormented him verie sore, and were (as he knewe) vndoubted signes of the common in­fection, that raigned ouer the citie at that tyme. The which notwithstanding, he did, what he could, to make an end of his diuine seruice. In the mornyng, calling a felowe to him, he went with great paine towardes the holy maides hou­se,: whether, when he came, he found her not at home, For she was gone out, to visite an other, that was sicke. Then, being no longer able to hold vp his head, he laied him selfe downe vpon a couch, that was there in her house: & praied the sisters, that they wold send for her with al speed. When the holie maid came home, and found him there, and vnderstood in what case he was: she kneeled downe by the bed, and, laying her hand vpon his forehead, she began after her maner to lifte vp her hart to God in praier. And foorthwith he sawe, that she was quite abstra­cted from her bodilie senses & rauished in sprite. Which was no vnwonted sight to him, nor yet vncomfortable, (at that tyme.) For he ho­ped well, that she should obteine some great benefite for him, both of bodie and soule at Gods hand. When she had continued after that maner about the space of halfe an hower, he [Page 404] felt in him selfe a mightie alteration and stirring in euerie part of his bodie, and withal a vehe­ment prouocation towardes a vomite: which he had seene to hapen before, to many, that had died of that disease. How beit it fell not so out with him, but rather contrariwise; For it seemed to him, that he felt sensibly▪ how those corrupt hu­mours, that caused his paine, were violently drawen from within, to the vttermost partes of the bodie. And certaine he was, that he found present ease of his paines. And before the holie maid came to her selfe againe, he was fully and perfectly restored to his health: sauing only that there remained a litle feeblenes in him, which (he thought) our Lord suffred to remaine in him, as a token either of the disease, that was cured, or els of the weakenes of his faith. So soone as the holie maid had obteined this grace at Gods hand for her ghostlie father, she was foorthwith restored to her bodilie senses. And, finding him as yet in some weakenes, she wil­led her sisters to prouide some meate for him such as is wont to be geuen to sicke folkes. The which when he had receiued at her holie hand, she willed him to lie downe and rest a while: and so he did. And when he had rested a litle tyme, he rose vp and felt him selfe as strong and in as good liking, as if he had neuer ben sicke. Then said the holie maid to him. Father, goe your waie, and labour about the edifying of sou­les, and be thankeful to almightie God, that [Page 405] hath deliuered you out of this present danger. The like miracle did the holie maid worke about the same tyme vpon father Bartilmewe, of whome mention hath ben made diuerse and sundrie tymes before. The miracle was much a­like: but the cure seemed somewhat greater, biause he was both longer and also more grie­uously sicke.

Chap. 4.

AFter the tyme, that this pestilence was ceased in Siena, it chaunced that manie deuout and well disposed persones, as well religious as others, but specially certaine Nunnes of Pisa, hearing the fame of the holie maid had a great desire to see her, and to heare her doctrine, which was reported to be (and was in deed) verie wonderful. And because it was not lawful for many of them that had this godly inclination, to come to her to Siena, they sent letters and messengets to her very often, be­seeching her, that she would take the paines to come ouer to them to Pisa. And, to allure her the more to take that iourney vpon her, they decla­red vnto her, what frute and gaine of soules was like to ensue by her comyng thither. The holie maid, though she had no desire to be from home, yet being ouercome with their long & importu­nate [Page 406] sute, especially considering, that there was great hope of winning soules to God, first she as­ked the aduise of them, that liued in house with her: of the which compaine some were with her going to Pisa, and some against it. Then, when she sawe, that she could not be resolued by men, she fled vnto almightie God (as her ma­ner was) and besought him humbly, that he would vouchsafe to make her to vnderstand what his will and pleasure was, that she should doe in that case. And it came to passe after cer­taine daies, that our Lord appeered to her, and willed her, that she should accomplish the godlie request of those his seruantes & hand maides in Pisa without delaie. Wherupon she went to her ghostelie father, and declaring thus much to him, besought him like an obedient daughter, that he would geue her licence to doe, as she was willed by God. He assented willingly to her demaund, and went him selfe with her, and with him two other of his brethren, to he­are the confessions of such, as should resort vnto her, according to a graunt made to her by Pope Gregorie the eleuenth. When she came to Pisa, she lodged in the house of an honest citizen called maister Gerardus, where on a daie, there was presented vnto her, a cer­taine younge man of the age of twentie yeares or there about, which had ben sore vexed with a quotidian ague for the space of a yeare and halfe, and neuer missed one daie. [Page 407] And though there were no fit of an ague vpon him at that tyme, yet might she see, that he had ben long sicke. For, whereas he was by consti­tution of bodie a verie strong and lustie yong man, he was now brought so lowe, that he had neither flesh, strength, nor colour. And no medicine could be found, that would doe him good. Wherfore they entreated the holie maid, that she would commend his lamentable state to God in her praier. The holie maid pitied his case verie much, and asked him, how long it was, sence he was last confessed. To that he ans­wered and said, that it was a good manie yeares. Yea, said she; and that is the cause, whie our Lord hath laied this discipline vpon you, bicause yee would not clense your soule in all this tyme by confession. Wherfore, deere sonne, see that yee goe out of hand to confession, and rid your selfe of these sinnes, that haue infected you, both bo­die and soule. With that she caused Doctour Thomas her owne confessour to be called, and de­liuered the yong man to him, willing him to heare his confession. That done, the yong man returned to her againe: and she laied her hand vpon his shoulder, and said these wordes. Sonne, goe your waie with the peace of our Lord Iesus Christ: For I will not, that these agues trouble you anie more. She said, and it was done: for the almightie power of him spake in her, who said, and it was done, who gaue commaunde­ment, and all thinges visible and inuisible were [Page 408] created. This strange miracle was wrought before so manie witnesses, that it was in a verie litle tyme bruted thoroughout the whole citie. And the yong man him selfe, that was cured, within a fewe daies after, came to Doctour Raimundus, as he was passing by the citie, (so fat and in such good liking, that the Doctour did scantly knowe him) and before a great multi­tude of men and women recited the whole ma­ner of the miracle, as it hath ben declared here before: and thanked God and the holie maid most humbly, for the benefite of his health, which, he confessed, he had receiued perfectly at Gods handes, by her meanes and intercession.

One of the sisters of penance called Gemina, being so extremely pained with a disease of the throte, commonly called the Squynancie, that, so often as she tooke breath, it seemed, that she was in great danger of strangling, found the meanes to be brought, where the holie maid was, and besought her of helpe. The holie maid, being moued with compassion, laid her hand vpon the sisters throte, and made the signe of the Crosse vpon it: and foorth with the disease lefte her, and she returned home againe with great ioye. When the holie maid went from Pisa to Auinion, there were in her companie two deuout yong men, that wrote her letters, the one called Nerius Landoccius de Pagliar ensibus, which afterwardes forsooke the worlde vtterly & became an Heremite, the other Steuen Corradi, [Page 409] which likewise gaue ouer the world at her com­mandement, and became a Christian: in the which rule & discipline he lead a verie streight & holie life. Now, when the holy maid returned from Auinion into Italie againe, and was come to the citie of Genua, it chaunced this Nerius to be taken with such a paineful gnawing and grieping in his bowels, that he cried pitifully, and crope vpon his handes and knees from pla­ce to place (for he was not able to raise vp him selfe) and could find no place, where to rest And thus he continued daie and night, without anie release in extreme paine, and made great lamen­tation to the rest of the compaine, which loued him all verie tenderly. Wherupon doctour Rai­mundus with other of them wente to the holie maid, and told her, in what a lamentble case the poore man stood. She shewed, that she had great compassion on him: but she gaue them no word of comfort or hope of recouerie (as she was wont to doe at other tymes but) contrariwise willed them to seeke to the phisicions, and cause them to minister to the sickeman. When they sawe, that the would put them in no maner of comfort, they sent out of hand for two learned phisicions: which came and ministred to him with great diligence: and their precptes were obserued verie precisely. But the man recouered not, but ratherwaked worse & worse, in so much that, at the length the phisicions them selues said to doctour Raimundus that they despaired of [Page 410] his health. The which iudgement of the phisi­cions when doctour Raimundus declared after­wards to the rest of the compaine as he was sitting with them at supper: that other yong man called Steuen (of whome mention is made before) rose vp sodainly from the table with great feruour and vehemencie of spirite, and went to the holie maids chamber, and there cas­ting him selfe downe at her feet wept bitterly, and besought her in most humble maner, that she would not suffer his brother & companion to die in the waie, and his bodie to be buried in a strange land, especially considering, that he had taken that iourney vpon him for Gods sake and for a charitable cause. With those wordes she was inwardly touched, and said, vnto him, Sonne if God will now take your brother Nerius from you, & reward him for all his paines in heauen, me thinketh, yee should not be sorie for it, but rather reioice. O good mother, said he, I praie you, heare me at this tyme, and helpe him, for I doubt not, but that you are able to doe it, if you will. Then she being no longer able to refraine her motherlie affection, spake thus vnto him. Sonne, my meanyng was to exhort you, that you should comforme your will to the will of God. But now, seeing you are so much afflic­ted, to morrowe in the mornyng, when I goe to heare Masse and to receiue the blessed Sacrament, put me in mynd and I promise you, that I will offer vp your petition vnto God. [Page 411] In the meane tyme praie you to God for me, that it maie please him to heare my praier. Steuen was glad of that promise, and the next daie he waited diligently for her. And when she went to heare Masse, he kneeled downe before her verie humbly, and said. I praie you, good mother, remember your promise made to me yester night. With that she went to heare Masse, and after Masse receiued. And when she had receiued, she continued a certaine tyme ab­stracted from her bodilie senses (as her maner was.) So soone as she came to her selfe againe, she spake to Steuen (who attended there) with a cheereful countenance, and said. Yee haue ob­teined the grace, that yee desire. What, said he, shall Nerius recouer? Yea, said she, for certaine Nerius shall recouer: for our Lord hath graunted him vnto vs. When Steuen heard that, he ranne to Nerius, and told him, what comfortable wor­des the holie maid had spoken. After that the phisicions came againe to the sicke man, and, considering diligently of the state of his bodie, pronounced plainely, that they sawe no hope of life in him. But whatsoeuer they sawe in natural causes, Nerius was by the almightie power of God restored to perfecte health within a fewe daies, euen as the holie maid had said. Soone after the recouerie of this man, it chaunced the same Steuen to fall sicke also, being (as it was thought) ouercharged with watching and paines, that he had taken, about the [Page 412] said Nerius. He was sore pained with streynyng and vomiting, and withal with a passing great head ach. The which thing, when it was sig­nified to the holie maid by the rest of the house (who were all verie sorie for him) she went foorthwith to his beds side, where he laie, and asked him, how he did, and felt his pulses. Whereby she perceiued well, that he had a ve­rie sharpe feuer. Then she spake to him with great feruour of spirite, and said these wordes. I commaund thee in the vertue of holie obe­dience, that thou be no more sicke of this ague. She had no sooner spoken those wordes, but that Steuen was fully and perfectly deliuered of his ague, and sate vp, and made merrie with the rest of his companie: and they all together praised the goodnes of God, that had geuen such power to the holie maid.

At what tyme the holie maid was in the citie of Florence about a treatie of peace bet­weene Pope Gregorie the eleuenth and the Florentines, there was such a broile stirred in the citie, by certaine euel disposed and sedi­tious citizens against the holie maid, that her freendes, doubting and fearing her life, counse­led her to depart. But she made them answere, that she had an expresse commaundement from God, not to depart, vntill the peace were fully agreed vpon, and openly published in the said citie. Howbeit she was contented a litle to geue place to the furie of the people, and to with­drawe [Page 413] her selfe into a secret place not farre from the citie, & there to remaine for a tyme, vntill the tempest were somewhat asswaged. Now, as she was preparing her selfe to his voiage, & in a maner readie to set foreward, one of her sisters called Ione fell sicke. Her foote was swollen very much (of what cause, no man knewe:) he paine & anguish wherof was so great, that it cast her into an ague also. By reason wherof she was not in state to take that iourney with the rest of her compaine. VVhen the holie maid vnderstood of her sickenes, being vn willing to leaue her there behind (bicause she was manie waies subiecte to the furie and malice of naughtie men) she fled to her accustomed refuge of praier, & besought al­mighty God of his infinity mercie, that he would prouide for the indēnitie of her sister. God heard the petition of his spouse; For al the whil that she continued thus in praier, that other sister slept sloundely. Out of the which sleepe so soone as she awaked, she found her selfe in as perfecte health & strength, as if she had neuer ben sicke. And so she rose vp, & set her selfe in order, & went the same mornyng with the maid and the rest of the com­paine so nimbly, that they wer al astoined to se it.

When Pope Greg. had resolued to remoue out of Frāce vnto the citie of Rome againe, the holie maid likewise with doctour Raimundus & the rest of her retinue, departed from auinion towardes Italie. And passing through the prouince they came to a citie called Tolonne: where when: [Page 414] they had taken vp their Inne, the holie maid, to auoid the presse of the people, which flocked meruelously about her in al places to doe her ho­nour, left her compaine, and (as her maner was) conueied her selfe as secretly, as was possible, to an inner chamber. And her whole compaine; knowing how troublesome such resort had ben to her at at other tymes, did, what they could to prouide, that fewe or none should knowe of her being there. But as they vsed all diligence to keepe the matter secret, so it seemed, that the verie stones of the streete cried out, and be wrai­ed her to the people: for she was no sooner in her chamber, but that they came to the house from all partes of the citie flocking in great nombers, first of women, and then of men, and asked wher that holie Ladie was, that came from the court of Rome. At the length, when Doct: Raimundus & the rest sawe, that the matter could no longer be hidden, being ouercome with the importunate pressing of the people, they were contented to admit the women only. Emong whome there was one, that had a yong infant so strangely swollen, especially in the bellie, that it seemed rather a mōster, thē a child; for the which infant, the women besought the holie maid, that she would vouchsafe to take it into her ar­mes, she refused it at the first for humilities sake: but afterwardes, being ouercome with pitie and seeing their faith, she yealded vnto thē. So sone as the child was in her armes, it beganne to let out [Page 415] out great store of wind, and with that (in the presence of all that multitude) the swel­ling of his bellie and whole bodie asswa­ged: and she gaue it againe to the mother in perfecte health and shape of bodie. The fame of this miracle being spread thorough­out the citie, it came to the eares of the bishop: Who sent out of hand for Doctour Raimundus, and desired him, that he would be a meane to the holie maid, that he might speake with her: and told him withal, that the child, vpon whom this great miracle was wrought, was nephewe to his vicare generale. She came with doctour Raimundus and certaine of her sisters, and spake with the bishop: and he found him selfe merue­lously well edified by her talke and behauiour. Manie other miracles did the holie maid worke to the benefite and health of mens bodies. But these maie suffice, to declare, that the power of God dwelt in her, which was the principal worker of all these thinges.

Chap. 5.

BIcause the order of iustice requireth, that such as shewe thē selues perfectly obediēt to God, should be obeied of all his creatu­res: our Lord, to declare to the wordie, that the obediēce of his spouse was verie perfecte towar­des him, caused his creatures likewise to shewe [Page 416] their obedience towardes her. At the tyme, while the holie maid liued in Siena, it chaunced, that a yong widowe called Alexia (of whom men­tion hath bē made oftentimes before in this boo­ke) bare such a singular affectiō to her, that it see­med, she could not almost liue without her; For the which cause she gaue ouer the wordle, & too­ke the habite vpō her, which the holy maid wa­re: and forsaking her owne house, tooke an hou­se neere vnto the place, where the holie maid dwelt, that she might resort vnto her more com­modiously & continue longer tyme in her com­paine. And the holie maid likewise, to auoid the distractions of her fathers house, and to retire her selfe more closely to praier and contempla­tion, would goe to the house of Alexia, and there continue with her, sometymes whole daies, so­metymes whole weekes, yea and sometymes whole monethes. At that tyme, it chaunced one yeare to be such a scarcitie of corne in the citie & countrie, that the people were constrei­ned to eate bread, made of fustie and stincking corne, that had ben kept long tyme vnder the ground in cesternes & caues: bicause there was none other to be gotten for money. Of such corne had Alexia made prouision for her selfe and her familie for that yeare. But before her store was spent, the haruest tyme was come, and she heard tell, that there was newe corne to be sold in the market; wherupon she thought to cast awaie that litle portion, that was lefte [Page 417] of the stinking corne, and buye newe, But before she did it, the holie maid being in house with her, she chaunced to breake her mynd to her, and to tell her, what she was about to doe. What will yee doe, said she? Will you cast that awaie, that God hath sent for the sustenance of man? If you will not eate of that bread your selfe: yet bestowe it vpon the poore, that haue no bread to eate. To that Alexia replied and said, that she had a conscience to geue such stinking & vnholeso­me bread to the poore: she would rather buye newe corne, and make them bread of that. Well, said the holie maid, bring me here a litle warer, and that meale, which you mynd to cast awaie: and I will make bread of it for the poore. Alexia did, as she was willed. Then the holie maid too­ke it of her, and made past of it: and of the past made such a deale of bred (and that also so quic­kely) that Alexia & her seruant, that beheld her al the time, were astoined to see it: for they thought verily, that there could not haue ben made so manie loaues of fower or fiue tymes so much meale, as the holie maid deliuered out of her handes to Alexia, to laie vpon bordes and carrie to the ouen. And (which was most meruelous) there was no euel sauour in those loaues, as there was in all other made of the same corne. But when they were baked, and set on the table to eate, they that eate of them, could find no maner of bitternes or euel tast in them but rather said, that they had not in their life tyme, eaten better [Page 418] and more sauorie bread. This miracle being spread in the citie, doctour Thomas her confes­sour came, with certaine other learned men of his brethren, to examine the matter: and found in verie deed, that there were two great mira­cles wrought, one in augmēting the quantitie of the past, and an other in amending the euel qua­litie and stench of the corne. And the third mi­racle was added soone after: which was, that wheras the same bread was verie liberally de­alt out to the poore, and none other eaten in the house but that, yet there remained euermore great store of it in the hutch. And so it continu­ed manie daies and weekes. Which moued cer­taine deuout persones, that vnderstood the truth of the matter, to take some of the said bread, and to laie it vp reuerently, where it might be kept for a relique and perpetual remembrance of the great worke, that almightie God had wrought by his deere spowse. After wardes, Doctour Raimundus being desirous to be more particularly infourmed of the matter by the holie maid, prai­ed her one a tyme in secret talke, that she would declare vnto him for his satisfaction, how, and in what order the thing had passed. And she made him answere simply after this maner. Fa­ther, said she, I had a great zeale, that the thing, that God had sent vs for the reliefe of man, should not be lost. And I had withal a great com­passion on the poore. Wherupon I went to the hutch of meale with a great feruour of spirite. [Page 419] So soone as I was there, behold, our blessed La­die was there likewise with me, accompanied with a nomber of Sainctes and Angels, and bad me to goe foreward with my worke, as I had determined. And she was so benigne and chari­table, that she vouchsafed to labour with me, and to worke the past with her owne handes: and so by the vertue of her holie handes were those loaues multiplied in such sort, as yee ha­ue heard, for she made the loaues and gaue them to me: and I deliuered them from me to Alexia and her seruant. Truly mother, said doctour Raimundus, I maruaile not now, if that bread see­med to me and others, that tasted of it, passing sweet: considering, that it was made with the handes of that most heauenlie & glorious Quee­ne, in whose sacred bodie was wrought and made by the holie Trinitie, that liue bread that came downe from heauen, to geue life to all true beleeuers.

Chap. 6.

AT what tyme the holie maid came to Rome by commaundement of Pope Vrbanus the sixt, she had in her companie to the nomber of fower and twentie persones, to wite, sixtene men and eight women. Which folowed her almost against her will: some to vi­site the holie places in Rome, and some to get [Page 420] certaine spiritual graces of the Popes holines, but all, as her ghostlie children, to be trained by her in the rules of spiritual life. Besides these, there came to the citie at that tyme a nomber of good and godlie men: which, bicause they were sent for by the Pope at the holie maides motion & instance, resorted vnto her, and lodged in her house. And though she neither had, nor would haue anie thing for the reliefe of her selfe and al her familie, but only what she receiued of pure almes: yet was she so liberal and free of hart, & had such a loue to hospitalitie, that she made no difference betweene receiuing one man and one hundred: for she doubted not, but had a full trust and affiance in God, that he would proui­de for them all. For the better perfourmance wherof, she tooke this order emong her women, that they should be stewardes in the house by course one after an other euerie weeke; so that one of them was euermore occupied about the prouision of meate, drincke, & other thinges; that the rest might the more freely intend their pil­grimages & other holie exercises, for the which they were come to the citie. And bicause the bread, that they eate, was all of almes, she gaue them charge, that whosoeuer was steward for the weeke, should alwaies signifie to her a daie before the bread was all spent; that she might send some other of the sisters, or goe her selfe to begge more. One tyme it chaunced, that one of the sisters called Ione, being steward in [Page 421] her course, lacked bread, and yet forgat to signifie so much to the holie maid, vntill the verie ho­wer of dyner was come Then remembring her selfe, and being ashamed of her negligence, she went to the holie maid with a heauie cheere, & confessed her fault. Ah sister, said she, God for­geue you. Wherefore haue you brought vs to this distresse, contrarie to the order, that I gaue you? Behould our familie is now verie hungrie they haue fasted long. And where shall we find so much bread of a sodaine, as may suffice thē al? To that sister Ione could saie nothing els but only acknowleged her forgetfulnes, and cried her mercie. VVell, said the holie maid: cause them to sit downe at the table. Alas, said she, there is not bread inough for fower persones. whatsoe­uer there is (said the holie maid) will them to goe to dyner, and to begynne with that litle, that is, vntill God send more. And with that she went her selfe to praier. Then sister Ione? accor­ding as she was commaunded, caused them to sit downe, and set that smal prouision, that was, of bread and other thinges before them. They fell to their meate gridily, (for they vsed to fast verie much, & that daie they had taried for their dy­ner longer, then they were wont to doe) and thought in deed, that they should soone dispatch that short pitance. But our Lord at the instance of the holie maid so wrought in that bread, that they cut soppes into their potage, and eate euerie man so much as sufficed: and yet was the [Page 422] bread nothing diminished, but rather increased. Wherat when they were all astoined, they asked what the holie maid was in doing. And vnder­standing that she was earnestly occupied in prai­er, they concluded all with one voice (which were in nōber sixteene persones) that it was her praier that had procured that increase from he­auen; for, said they, yee see that we are all satis­fied, and the bread, that was set before vs, is not lesse but rather more then it was at the begyn­nyng. And when their table was taken vp, there remained so much bread, as sufficed the sisters aboundantly: and after them the holie maid commaunded the rest to be geuen out to the poore, which was also a plentiful almes.

The like happened the same yeare and in the same house, in the lent tyme by the like default of an other of the sisters, called Francis.

Chap. 7.

THe holie maid died in the citie of Ro­me (as it is said before:) from when­ce her head was sent afterwardes to Siena, and receiued, but not with such honour, as was thought meete and answereable to the holie life, that she had lead in that place. VVhe­reof Doctour Raimundus hauing some remorse [Page 423] of conscience, and being moued also (as it was thought) by God, was in hand with his brethe­ren, that they should appoint some day, when that pretious relique might be brought (as from some other place) by the whole couent and the rest of her spiritual sonnes and daughters, with hymnes and psalmes, and other solemnities, such as were common to the Saints in heauen: for as yet it was not lawful to singe any particular ser­uice in the honour of her, bicause she was not canonized. Which being agreed vpon, he went and inuited al her spiritual children, that were abroad, to come at the day appointed, and to honour their good mother, euery one in the best maner, that he could deuise. And withal he en­treated them, to take a part of their pitance that daie with the couent. When this solemnitie was ended, and the tyme come, that they should goe to dyner, the brother, that had the charge of the butterie, came to the priour with a heauie countenance, and told him, that there was not bread inough in the howse, to suffice the one halfe of the couent, and much lesse to suffice the strangers also, that were inuited: which were to the nomber of twentie persones. When the priour heard that, he went first into the butterie to see the prouision. And when he sawe, that it was so in deed: he sent that brother, with Doctour Thomas the holie maides foremer ghostlie Father, to certaine of their special frin­des houses, to make a sufficient prouision of [Page 424] bread for the whole companie. But those men taried somewhat longer, then it was thought they would haue done. Wherefore the priour hauing consideration of his strangers, caused them to sit downe, and set before them so manie loaues of bread, that there remained for the couent but only so much, as, they thought, would haue ben a competent portion for fower or siue men. At the length, when the priour sawe, that they came not awaie, he wil­led the couent to sit downe also, and to begynne with that litle, vntill more came. They did so, and eate their meate. And though those two brethren came not at all with anie new proui­sion, yet was their bread so much increased (vndoubtedly by the merites of the holie maid) that the whole couent, which were to the nom­ber of fiftie persones, was abundantly satisfied, both at the first and second dyner. And after all was done, they gathered vp a great quantitie of bread, which was also reserued till an other ty­me. When the couent dyner was done, the priour with certaine of his brethren went to the place, where the strangers sate, & Doctour Raimundus with them. (Who was still sitting at the table with them, and making a sermon or collation in the praise of the holie maid.) Which sermon the priour interrupted, and told them, what a wonderful worke it had pleased God to worke that daie in the couent, When doctour Raimundus heard that, he turned [Page 425] himselfe againe to the companie, and said these wordes. Surely, surely our good mother sheweth, that she liketh well of the seruice and honour, that we haue done her this daie, in that she feedeth vs with bread by miracle: which was in deed a common thing with her, while she liued. And in this she sheweth also, that she is the true daughter of our blessed father S. Domi­nicke: of whome we reade in the storie of his, life, that twise in his life tyme he wrought the like miracle in multiplying of bread.

Chap 8.

IN the yeare of our Lord. 1375. the holie maid went to the citie of Pisa, and lodged in a worshipful citizens house called maister Gerard Bonconties. Where, by reason of a great abstraction, that she had from her bodilie senses, she was brought to such an extreme feeblenes, that it seemed, she was at the verie point of de­ath. Wherefore doctour Raimundus, fearing her present departure out of his wordle, began to cast with him selfe, if it were possible to deuise anie thing, that might somewhat refresh or comfort her bodie in that case Flesh, egges, and wine, he knewe well. she might not abide: [Page 426] and much lesse, electuaries, or anie other the like confortatiues, that were made of sweet thinges, Wherefore he came to her, and praied her, that she would suffer them at the least to put a litle sugar into the cold water, that she droncke. To that she answered quickely, and said. Alas father, that litle life, that is lefte in my bodie, yee goe about to quench vtterly, for yee knowe, that all sweet thinges are become verie hurtful and deadlie to me. Then Doctour Raimundus and the said maister Gerard, in whose house she laie, began to deuise carefully, what thing they might doe to relieue and comfort her, if it were possible. And it came to their myndes, (which they had seene oftentymes proued in the like cases) that when a sicke persone was not able to receiue anie sustenance inwardly, it was good to take red wine, and with the same to wash the temples and pulses of his hand-wrestes. VVherupon maister Gerard sent to one of his neighbours, which was wont euermore to haue one vessel of that wine, and praied him, that he would be so good, as to send him a botel of it. The neighbour, when he vnderstood maister Gerardes re­quest, and withal the extreme feeblenes of the holie maid, made answere to the messen­ger, and said. Truly frend, I could find in my hart to bestowe, if it were that whole vessel, v­pon maister Gerard. But it is now three monthes, sence it was all drawen out euen to the lees. [Page 427] And at this present, there is not in my howse one droppe of that kind of wine: wherof I am verie sorie. But, that you maie be well assured, that it is so in deed, I praie you, come downe with me, and see. And with that he would needes haue him downe into the cellar, and she­wed him the vessel. Wherein that red wine had ben. And the messenger might well perceiue, that the vessel was drie, and that it had stood long emptie But yet the good man, for the mo­re assurance, in his presence would needes drawe out the spigot also: that he might see it with his eyes, and so satisfie maister Gerardes mynd. So soone as he had taken out the spigot, behold, there issued out of the vessel a goodlie red wine, which ranne abondantly, euen as from a full tappe, and wette all the ground vnderneth. VVherat the good man of the house was mer­uelously astoined: and putting vp the spigot againe, called all that were in his house, both men and women, and examined them diligent­ly, if anie of them knewe of anie wine, that was put into that vessel. They said all and sware also, that the vessel had stood emptie for the space of three monethes before; and they thought it not only vnlike, but also impossible, that anie creature should bring so much wine into the house, and put it into the vessel without their knowledge. Which made them to thinke (as it was in deed) that this wine was sent them from God to the behoofe and comfort of the holie [Page 428] maid. And when the messenger, that was sent from maister Gerard, came home with his bottel ful of that wine, and declared to him and the rest, what had happened: they all tooke great comfort in it, and magnified the bountifull goodnes of almightie God, that had so mira­culously prouided for the reliefe of his true handmaid. The fame of this miracle being spread thorough out the citie it chanced within a fewe daies after, when the holie maid was re­couered, that she had an occasion to goe abroad, to visite a certaine patriarke, that was newly come to the citie, sent from the Sea Apostlolike. While she passed thorough the streetes, the peo­ple, hauing vnderstanding of her comyng abroade, forsooke their worke and shoppes, and ranne from all partes of the citie to see her, and said. What a woman is this, that drincketh wa­ter her selfe, and yet filleth our vessels with wine? VVhen the holie maid sawe that presse of the people, and vnderstood the cause of the same, it went to the verie hart of her: as she de­clared afterwardes in confession to her ghostlie Father. And therefore she turned her selfe to almightie God after a sorowful maner & spake to him in her hart after this sort. O Lord, whie hast thou plagued me thy poore hand-maid thus, as to make me a laughing stocke to all the people? All other thy seruantes maie be seene emong men: only I can not. Who desired this wine of thee for me? Thou knowest, O Lord, [Page 429] that I haue long forborne the drincking of wi­ne: and now for a litle wine I am made a com­mon talke in euerie mans mouth. I most humbly beseech thee (O my deere Lord) for all the mer­cies, that euer thou hast shewed vnto me thine vnworthie handmaid, that thou wilt cause this wine vtterly to vanish awaie, in such sort, that the brute, that is raised of me emong the people, maie cease withal. Thus she praied with deepe sighes and inward gronyng of hart: and our Lord despised not her praier; For, wheras the people repaired stil to the house to drinke of the wine, and manie honest citizens drancke of it for pure deuotion, and euermore perceiued that there was nothing the lesse wine for all their drincking: comyng now to the vessel to drincke, they found, that all the wine was turned to thicke dregges. And wheras before it was a ve­rie pleasant wine, it was now of a sodaine be­come so pudlie and vnpleasant, that no man might abide to drincke of it. VVhich thing caused a great alteration in the myndes of the people; For wheras before they thought & spake verie reuerently of the holie maid, manie of them began now to imagin, that this wine was a thing counterfeicted by the deuel, and that al­mightie God, to make such treacherie knowen to the wordle, had turned it vnto dregges. VVhich made the good man of the house and all other, that had before by occasion of this mi­racle, geuen the holie maid a report of great [Page 430] vertue and holines, so much ashamed, that af­terwardes they durst not once to open their mouthes, to speake anie thing, that tended to her commendation. But the holie maid her selfe was verie glad of it, and gaue God most humble thankes, that had deliuered her from such vaine and troublesome applauses of the people. VVhe­rin she shewed her selfe in deed to be the true disciple and folower of our Sauiour Christ, whose maner it was euermore, when he had wrought miracles, to auoid the fauourable spea­ches of men. And howsoeuer it pleased euel disposed persones to interprete these two mira­cles, there could be no fault in the holie maid; For of the foremer, which they ascribed to the deuel, she knewe nothing, vntill it was done: and the latter was wrought by almightie God, & at her request. But a charitable mynd would rather interprete them thus: that our Lord she­wed in the foremer miracle, how much he loued her, and in the latter, how she answered his loue againe with a profound humilitie In the fore­mer he gaue vs matter to praise her, in the later example to folowe her. In the foremer he taught vs, how she was adorned with grace, in the latter, how she was staied with wisdome: for where humilitie is, there is also true wise­dome.

Chap. 9.

AT what tyme the holie maid departed out of this life, there was in the citie of Rome a certaine deuout matrone of ho­nest parentage, called Semia. This woman in hir husbandes daies serued God diligently. But af­ter her husbandes death, being lefte with two sonnes, she gaue her selfe wholly to praier, visi­ting of holie places, and other the like deuout exercises, and so continued manie yeares: Her maner was to rise euerie night to praier, and towardes the mornyng to take a litle rest, lying downe or leanyng her head for a while to her beds side, that she might the better endure the labour of going the stations in Rome the next daie. This Semia when the holie maid came first to the citie, being infourmed by diuerse and sun­drie persones of her great vertue and holines, resorted much to her house, and in tyme became verie familiar with her. Howbeit she was so thoroughly occupied, what with her ordinarie stations and pilgrimages, and what with the ne­cessarie attendance vpon her two sonnes, that sometymes for certaine daies together, she had no leysure to come and see the holie maid: (as it chaunced in deed at the tyme of her final sickenes [Page 432] & passage out of this worlde.) The night, before the holy maid gaue vp the ghost in the morning, this deuout matrone rose vp, after her accusto­med maner, to praier. And whē she had done, she thought to rest her selfe a while, as she was wont to doe. Howbeit she had a care, not to sleepe o­uerlong, bicause it was sondaie, & she entended to heare high Masse that daie: which she could not doe conueniently, vnlesse she rose vp quic­kely; bicause she had her childrens dyners to dresse, before she went to Church. Now lying downe with this care, her mind was so fully oc­cupied with the same, that (as it is wont to hap­pen in such case) she seemed to speake to her selfe in her sleepe, and to saie thus. Woman, what meanest thou? Thou must needes rise quickely (there is no remedie) that thou maiest dresse thy childrens dyner, and so goe to Church in dewe tyme. As she was speaking these wordes in her mynd to her selfe, behold, there appeered a mer­uelous goodlie child vnto her, of the age (as it seemed) of an eight or ten yeares, which spake to her after this maner. I will not haue thee to rise yet, vntill thou haue seene a thing, that I will shewe thee. She was much delited with the sight of that child: and yet, bicause she had great care of her busines, and specially of hearing Masse, she spake vnto him, and said. I praie thee, good child, let me rise: for I must needes heare high Masse this daie. In no wise, said the child: vnlesse thou see before certaine wonderful [Page 433] thinges that I am commanunded by God to shewe thee. And with that he tooke her by her garmentes (as it seemed to her) and lead hir into a certaine open and large place, in the which she saw the forme of a meruelous goodly oratorie or Church, and in the top of the same a tabernacle of syluer close locked, which shewed verie prin­cely. Then said the child to her. Abide here a while, and thou shalt see, what is in yonder ta­bernacle. He had no sooner spoken those wor­des, but that there appeered an other child like him, which brought a ladder, and with a golden keie, that he had in his hand opened the doore of the tabernacle. When the doore was open, she sawe a meruelous goodlie and beawtiful yong maid, roially appareled all in shynyng white, with collars and owches of price. She ware three crownes vpon her head, which were verie finely wrought and set together in such sort, that euerie one of them might be perfectly seene and discerned from the other. The lower crowne was al of pure siluer, and shewed white. The second was of syluer myngled with gold, and shewed a certaine glistering red colour, such as is wont to be when an orient red ground is wrought ouer with threedes of gold. The third and highest crowne was all of pure gold, richly, decked and set rownd about with perles and precious stones. The widowe, beholding this goodlie sight, began to reason with her selfe, what yong maid that might be, that was so [Page 434] gorgiously trymed. And looking steddily on her, she might well discerne, that it was the face of Caterine of Siena: but her age was not answerea­ble. Which made her to suspecte, that it should be some other. Then the child, that appeered to her first, asked her whether she knewe that faire maid, or no. Truly, said she, this is the verie face of Caterine of Siena: but her age agre­eth not. While the woman stood thus and loo­ked wishly vpon her, the yong maid, that was within the tabernacle, smyled sweetly, and said to those two children. Loe, this woman knoweth me not. After this, there came fower other children, like vnto these, and brought with them a settle to carrie one in, made in fourme like a bride chamber, and furnished tho­roughly with ritch clothes of a purple colour. And when they had set downe this chamber or settle by the aforesaid tabernacle of syluer, they went vp nymbly, and tooke the yong maid, that was there crowned in their handes, to bring her downe and put her in that chamber. But while this was in doing, the yong maid spake to those children and said. Let me goe a litle to that woman first, that seeth me now, and knoweth me not. And with that she went towardes her, as it were fleeing, and said vnto her. Semia, do not you knowe me? I am Caterine of Siena, euen as my face sheweth. What, said Semia? Are you Caterine my spiritual mother? I am, said she. But marcke well, what thou hast seene, and what thou shalt see. When the blessed virgin [Page 435] had spoken those wordes, the sixe children too­ke her, and brought her backe to the said bride chamber: and placed her in the same, and so lifted her vpon high. Semia stood still and looked after, to see, what would become of her. And behold, she sawe in heauen a seate, and vpon the seate a king sitting, royally clad and crowned, hauing in his right hand a booke open. The children mounted vp with their ca­riage, vntil they came to the foote of this seate: and there they set downe the bed chamber and the maid in it. And she foorthwith went out of the chamber, and cast her selfe downe pro­strate at the feete of the king, and worshipped him. That done, the king said to her. Welco­me my right deerely beloued spowse and daugh­ter Caterine. Then, being commaunded by the king, she lifte vp her head, and read in the boo­ke, that he held in his right hand, so long, as a man would well saie a Pater noster. When she had done that, the king commaunded her to stand vp. And so she did, and stood by the seate loo­king for the comyng of the Queene: Which ca­me foorthwith, accompained with a goodlie traine of virgins, and went (as it seemed) to­wardes the king. When the Queene approched neere, the holie maid went downe from the place, where she stood, and kneeling vpon her knees, worshiped her. The Queene embra­ced her verie louingly, and said. Hartely wel­come, my deere daughter Caterine. And with that she tooke her vp and kissed her. Then the [Page 436] holie maid kneeled downe againe, and worship­ped the Queene. And, when she had so done, she went by commaundement of the Queene to all the rest of the virgins, one after an other and they all receiued her likewise with passing great ioye and kissed her. Now Semia, that stood and behold all these thinges was so moued with the sight, that she cried out alowde, and said. O blessed Ladie, O mother of our Lord & Sa­uiour Iesus Christ, make intercession for vs. And againe she said. O blessed Marie Magdalene, O bles­sed S. Catherine, O blessed S. Agnes, O blessed S. Margarite praie for vs. And with this crie she awaked out of her sleepe: and openyng her eyes sawe, that the sonne was of a great height. Wherof being verie sorie, both for the high Masse, which, she doubted, would be almost done, before she could come to her parish Church, and also for her childrens dyner, which could not be made readie against the due tyme, she began to thinke with her selfe, what the cause should be, whie that vnwonted and stran­ge vision should be shewed vnto her: for she nei­ther knewe nor suspected, that the holie maid should be departed out of this life: though she knewe well, that she was verie sicke: bicause she had seene by experience, that the holie maid had often tymes recouered and escaped out of sickenesses, that seemed verie grieuous and past all hope of recouerie. VVherefore she rather thought, that for so long tyme as she had ben [Page 437] occupied about this vision, the holie maid had ben after her accustomed maner in some singular traunse or abstractiō, in the which our Lord had shewed vnto her some great and notable reue­lations. But bicause the mornyng was so farre spent, that she stood in doubt of finding anie Mas­se that daie, she supposed, that all this vision was none other thing, but only some suttle illusion of the deuel, to make her to transgresse the comma­undement of our holie mother the Church, in not hearing Masse on the sondaie Wherefore she hasted her selfe vp, and set her pot ouer the fyer, and ranne towardes the parish Church, saying thus in her hart. If I leese Masse this daie, I will take all this to be the worke of the ghostlie ene­mie. But if I come in good tyme to heare Masse, then will I thinke, that our Lord hath shewed these thinges vnto me for my good mother Catherines sake. When she came to the Church, she found, that the gospel was done, and the offertorie song. Wherof she was verie sorie, and said. Out vpō me wretch, the wicked feend hath deceiued me. With that she made hast hom­wardes againe to set her thinges in the kitchen a litle foreward: that she migh goe to some other Church, and find a whole Masse. While she was at home thus occupied, she heard a bell ring to Masse in a monasterie of Nunnes not farre from her house: which made her a glad woman. And so she set her selfe in order againe to goe to Church, and for hast lefte her colewortes, (which stood [Page 438] by her readie piked and wasshed) euen as they were, and put them not into the pot, as she had thought to doe, VVhen she came to the Church she found them at the verie begynnyng of Masse wherof she was verie glad, and said to her selfe. Surely, now I see, that the deuel hath not decei­ued me: as, I thought, he had done. But she had great care of the displeasure of her sonnes, which were now of good yeares, bicause she knewe, their dyner was nor readie, nor could not be ma­de readie in anie conuenient tyme. Houbeit she committed all to God, that she might heare Mas­se deuoutly; beseeching him notwithstanding, that if that vision were of him, he would so pro­uide, that there might no displeasure or cause of offence rise of the same betwene her & her chil­dren. And with that she set her selfe downe and heard out the whole Masse to the end: whē Masse was done as she was going homeward, her son­nes met with her in the streete, & said. Mother, it is very late. I praie you, let vs goe to diner. Tar­rie a litle, good children, said she: & you shal dyne in good tyme. She went home a pace, and found the doore fast locked and the keie within, euen as she had lefte it. So soone as she was within the house, she wēt streight to the kitchin, & thought to haue gone foreward with the dressing of dy­ner. But when she came in, she sawe, that all was done to her hand: her colewoortes and flesh tho­roughly soddē, & al other thinges in such readi­nes, that they might goe to the table when they would. [Page 439] VVherat she was much astoined, and said to her selfe. Surely, now I see, our Lord hath heard my praier. And she determined to goe after dyner to the holie maides house (whome she thought to be yet aliue in the wordle) and to tell her of all the thinges, that had chaunced that daie. Her sonnes, that were not farre from the house, she called home, and set them to dyner. And while they were eating, her mynd ranne still vpon the strange vision, that she had seene in the mornyng, and vpon these wonders, that had en­sued vpon the same. Her sonnes also, that knewe nothing of the matter, began to commend their meate, and said, that it was passing well seaso­ned, and had a farre better tast, then it was wont to haue. Which wordes she put vp in her hart, and said to her selfe (as she declared afterwardes to Doctour Raimundus.) O my good mother Ca­therine, it is thou, that hast come this mornyng into my house, to supplie my rome and office in the kitchen. Now I knowe, in deed, that thou art a holie virgin, & the true hād maid of Christ. And yet for all this, she suspected nothing of the holie maides departure out of this life: but, so soone as her sonnes had dined, she went forth­with to her house (as she was wont to doe at o­ther tymes) and knocked at the doore: but no bodie giue her answere. The neighbours told her, that of likelihood she was gone out (as her maner was) to visite some holie place, and that there was no bodie at home. Which she supposed to [Page 440] be true, & therfore went her waie. Now the truth was, that all those, that vvere vvithin, vvere in great heauines for the losse of their good mo­ther vvhich vvas departed from them, and had lefte them as motherles children in this wicked worlde. And they did, what they could, to con­ceale her death from the people: both for the auoiding of that great presse and tumulte, which, they knewe would be made, if her death were once noised; and also, that they might with the more quietnes conferre with discreete persones concernyng the maner and order of her funerals. But, howsoeuer they la­boured to keepe the matter secret, the next daie, when her bodie should be caried to the Church of the Fryers preachers, commonly called Our ladie ouer Minerua, it was knowen all ouer the citie. And there was such a concourse of people, runnyng and pressing towardes the place, where she laie, to touch some part either of her bodie or of her garmentes, that those of her familie & re­tinue, that were there attending vpon the corps, were in great feare and danger, to haue had both their garmentes torne from their backes, and their bodies sore hurt with the violent presse & crowd of the vnrulie multitude. In so much that they were constreined to remoue the beere from the place, where it stood, and to set it in S. Domi­nickes chappel, which was well defended with a strong grate of yron. While these thinges were in doing, Semia came thither by chaunce: and [Page 441] seeing such a great concourse of people, asked what it meaned. They made her answere, and said, that Catherine of Siena was dead, and that her bodie was there caried to the Church to be buried, VVhen she heard that, she s [...]right piti­fully, and ranne towardes the place, where her corps laie. VVhen she came thither, and sawe certaine women and sisters of the holie maides familie standing about her bodie: she cried out and said. O most cruel women, whie haue you kept the departure of my sweet mother secret from me? wherefore would yee not call me, to be present with others at her passage out of the worlde? They excused them selues, alleaging certaine reasonable cawses: which did in some degree satisfie her mynd. VVell then, said she: I praie you, tell me what tyme she departed. Yester daie, said they, about eight of the clocke she gaue vp the ghost. VVith that she rent her owne face with her nailes, and cried out ruthfully. I sawe her: I sawe my sweet mother, euen when she de­parted out of her bodie. I sawe her caried vp into heauen by the ministerie of Angels, crowned with three precious crownes, & clad solomnely with statelie robes of shynyng white▪ Now I knowe, that it was our Lord, that sent his Angel, to shewe me the departure of my good mother. It was he, that prouided for me, that I should heare Masse so late. And (which is more) I see now, that it was our Lord him selfe, that supplied my charge miraculously in the dressing of my [Page 442] childrens dyner. O mother, O deere mother▪ O sweete mother, whie wouldest thou not geue me to vnderstand, that it was thou, that diddest depart out of this life? VVhen she had thus eased her hart somewhat with weeping and speaking, she declared to those religious sisters, and to the rest, that stoode there about the beere, what a goodlie vision our Lord had shewed her, at that verie tyme, whē the holie maid passed out of this world, with all such other thinges, as haue ben recited here to fore. Wherof they all glorified God, and tooke no small comfort.

C. 10.

WHile the holie maides bodie laie thus within the chappel of S. Domi­nicke, the people came in so fast frō all partes of the citie, to kisse her handes and feete, to touch some part of her gar­mentes, & to commend thē selues to her praiers, that they were cōstreined, for satisfying the peo­ples deuotion, to keepe her aboue the ground vn­buried for the space of three daies & three nigh­tes. In the which tyme, very manie came thither, & brought with them a nōber of weake & im­potent creatures, hoping that they should obtein their recouerie and health at Gods hād, through the holy praiers & merites of the B. virgin; And they wer not deceiued in their hope & expecta­tiō.

There was dwelling in the citie of Rome at that tyme a sister of the third order of S. Francis, called Dominica borne in Bergamo a citie of Lombardie, which had one of her ar­mes benommed, and, as it were, withered and dried vp in such sort, that for the space of six mo­nethes before the departure of the holie maid, she had no vse of it. This Dominica came to the Church, and to the chappel, where the holie corps laie. But bicause, being a weake woman, she could not come her selfe to touch anie part of her bodie or garmentes, by reason of the great presse and crowd of the people: she praied some one, that stood there neere to the beere, that he would be so good, as to take a vele of hers, and put it to some part of the bodie, and so deliuer it vnto her aganie. When she had receiued her vele againe, she put it to her armes and foorth­with her arme was perfectly healed, and in as good state, as euer it was before. The which when she perceiued, she cried out for ioye, and declared to all the people, that were there pre­sent, what a wonderfull worke our Lord had wrought vpon her. Whervpon they brought in manie other weake and feeble creatures, ho­ping, thad if they might come to touch but only the hemme of her garmentes, they should be made whole.

Emong others, they brought in a child of fower yeares old, whose sinowes in his necke were shronken, that he held his head euermore [Page 444] vpon his shoulder; and could not lifte it vp. When this child was brought thither; they held him downe to the beere that the holie mai­des hand might touch that part that was so shronken, and they tooke the vele, that was ouer the holie maides head, and put it about the childes necke. And foorthwith the child be­gan to amend: and in the presence of all that people, within a verie litle tyme lifte vp his head, and was fully and perfectly healed.

After this, an honest citizen of Rome called Lucius Cauarulis, which was so grieuously pained with an incurable disease in his hippe and leg­ge, that he could scantly endure to goe a verie litle waie with the helpe of a staffe or crooch, hearing the fame of the great miracles, that were wrought by almightie God in the honour of the holie maid, came with passing great paine and trauaile to the Church of the Friers preachers. And when he was come thither, he found the meanes by the helpe of others to be caried to the place, where her bodie laie. And there, with great deuotion he tooke her hand, and laid it vpon the partes diseased, to witt, vpon his thigh and legge. He had no sooner done so, but that he felt immediatly a present ease and helpe. And before he departed from thence, was perfectly cured of his disease and maine, to the great wonder and astonishment of all the people.

In like maner, a yong maid called Ritozola, v­pon whome a verie lothsome and stincking le­prie was so farre growen, that her nose and vp­per lippe were foulie disfigured with the same, hearing in the citie the brute and talke of these strange miracles, came to the Church, and pressed to approch neere to the holie corps: but was di­uerse tymes repelled by them, that stood there about the beere. Al the which not withstanding she assaied againe and againe: and at the length with much a doe gate in. When she was entred, she went foorthwith, and put her nose and lippe, that were so pitifully disfigured, not only to the feete and handes of the holie maid, (as others did) but also to her face. VVhereby she was so fully cured of her foule disease, that there remained not so much as anie litle signe or token of the leprie in her face.

A certaine Romaine called Typreus had a daughter, which in her tender age fel into a verie grieuous infirmitie called the ptisicke: of the which she could not be cured by anie medi­cine. This Typreus and his wife (whose name was Lella.) hearing the fame of these great mira­cles, that were wrought by the holie maid, commended their daughter with great deuotion vnto her, and caused their daughter to touch a certaine kerchiefe and beades, that had touched the holie maides bodie. A wonderful thing, The yong maid that was before despaired of phisicions and other, foorthwith vpon the [Page 446] touching of these thinges without any longer time or helpe of medicine, found her selfe to be in as good state of bodie, as euer she was in her life before: and so continued.

In this tyme likewise, while the bodie of the holie maid laie aboue the ground, there was in Rome a certaine citizen called Antonie Lellipeeters, which by ouer labouring his bodie had fallen in­to such a nommenes of his limmes, that he was, as it were, an impotent man, and could neither walke nor stand. And the phisicions could find nothing in their art, that could either cure him wholly of his disease, or ease him in anie de­gree of his extreme paine. This Antonie, hea­ring, what wonderful thinges were done by the holie maid, commended him selfe deuoutly vnto her, and made a vowe, that he would doe some special thing to her might honour if he be deliuered by her merites. He had no sooner ge­uen out that vowe in his hart, but that he felt him selfe perfectly healed, both of his lamenes and paine: and began to walke as nymbly, as euer he did in his life before: & went by and by to the place, where the holie corps laie, and per­fourmed his vowe: and declared with great ioye in the presence of all the people there assembled at that tyme, what a wonderful grace he had re­ceiued at Gods hand, through the merites of that holie maid.

There was also a certaine deuout matrone in Rome, called Paula, which was vsed of the [Page 447] holie maid, or rather vsed her verie familiary: for shee was her hostesse, and enierteined both the holie maid and all her companie in her house. This Paula was, at the tyme of the holie mades departure, pained with two diseases: which had continued vpon her four monethes before. The one was the gowte: the other the paine of the flancke. And, because these two ma­ladies were of such contrarie qualitie, that whatsoeuer was ministred vnto her for the hel­pe of the one, was hurtful to the other: (the one requiring thinges to loose, the other con­trarie wise thinges to bind) the sicke woman was pitifully vexed, and manie tymes brought euen to the verie point of death. When the holie maid passed out of this life, she besought them, that were about her, verie instantly, that they would let her haue certaine thinges, that had touched the holie maides bodie. The which thinges being geuen vnto her ouer night, the next mornyng she rose out of her bed (which she was neuer able to doe in fower monethes before) and walked as lustely as euer she had do­ne, when she was in her best health. These and manie other miracles did almightie God worke to the honour of the holie maid in those three daies, while her bodie laie vnburied: which through the negligence of men, were not so du­ly examined and diligently writen, as these.

Emong other thinges, that chaunceed wi­thin the space of those three daies, one thing, [Page 448] which seemeth to geue a certtaine credit & con­firmatiō to the rest, is not to be passed ouer with silence. There was a certaine Doctour of diui­nitie, which, in the tyme of that great concourse of people, went vp to the pulpet, to make a ser­mon or collation in the the praise of the holie maid. And when he had stood there a good while, and had assaied by diuerse and sundrie meanes to get him audience, and sawe at the length, that it would not be: he said only these wordes. This holie virgin hath no need of our preaching. She preacheth much better her selfe then we are able to doe. And with that he came downe, ano lefte the people suffi­ciently edified with the wonderful thinges, that they sawe there with their eyes.

Chap. 11.

WHen the holie maides bodie had ben thus kept three daies and three nightes aboue the ground; they buried it. Howbeit almightie God ceased not to honour his deere spouse with mi­racles: but wrought both moe and greater thin­ges, then before.

A certaine Romaine called Iohn Veries, had a litle sonne, which could neither goe nor stand vpright on his feete. This man, hearing by others, what great miracles were wrought by [Page 449] the holie maide, made a vowe to God and her, for the recouerie of his child: and brought him to the place, where she was buried. So soone as the child was laied vpon the holie maides graue, his feete and legges receiued firmenes and strength, and he began to stand vpright and walke so well, as if he had neuer had anie such defecte.

In like maner one Iohn Tozos, had a verie strange and horrible infirmitie in his eyes: in so much that there bred wormes in one of his eyes. This Iohn made a vowe to the blessed virgin S. Catherine: and foorthwith he was perfectly he­aled of his paineful and lothsome disease. Wherupon he went to the holie maides graue, and offred vp a certaine memorial of waxe (as the maner is) in token of his deliuerie: and de­clared, what a wonderful grace he had re­ceiued.

There was also a certaine woman, that came out of Germanie to the citie in pilgrimage: whose name by negligence of them, that were appointed to write these thinges, was not taken. This pilgrymme had with long sickenes, as it were, lost the vse of her eyes, and was without hope to recouer the same by anie medicine. Wherefore she commended her selfe deuoutly to the holie maid, and made a vowe. So soone as she had so done, she receiued her sight againe, and came to the graue to perfourme her vowe: and sawe as well, as euer she had done in [Page 450] her life before.

There was also a woman of honour in Rome, called ladie Marie: which had such a grieuous paine in her head, that in continuāce of time she lost one of her eyes, though she had vsed diuerse and sundrie medecines for the sauing of the sa­me. For the which cause, partly for sorowe, and partly for shamefastnes, she kept her self euermor within her owne house, & would not be seene a­brode, neither in the church nor els wher in any open place. This ladie, vnderstanding by others what great thinges had ben wrought in the ci­tie by the holie maid, commended her selfe vnto her, and made a vowe. The night folowing, the holie maid appeered to one of her waiting women in her sleepe, and willed her to tell her ladie, that she should make no mo medecines for her eyes, but should goe euerie mornyng to Church to heare the diuine seruice: and so doing she should find helpe. The ladie hearing that, did as she was willed by her seruant, and found, as she was promised by the holie maid: For she recouered not only strenght for that eye, that remained (which was much weakened) but also perfecte sight in that other eye, that was quite out. And (which was the greatest cure of all) the eye of her mynd was also restored in such sort, that she sawe now, how to obserue the commaundement of God in going to the sermons, and keeping holie the sondaies and other holie daies commaunded by our holie mo­ther the Church.

There was also a certaine yong man in Rome called Iames, the sonne of a certaine citizen called Peeter Nicols, which with long sickenes at the length was brought so lowe, that it booted not to minister anie more phisicke vnto him. When all men had geuen him ouer, as a dead man, a certaine deuout woman that was about him, called Cecola Cartaria, made a vowe to the blessed virgin S. Caterine in his behalfe: and foorthwith the yong man began to amend, and within a verie litle tyme, was fully recouered of his disease.

In like maner, a certaine woman called Gilia Petruccies, when the phisicions had geuen their diffinitiue sentence, that by the course of nature she must needes die, made the like vowe to S. Ca­therine of Siena: and with that found present ease of her paine, and within a fewe daies after was perfectly restored to her health.

There was also at this tyme in the citie, a cer­taine noble and deuout woman, called Ladie Ione Ilperines, which was well acquenited with the holie maide in her life tyme. And therefore seeing the miracles, that were wrought after her death, she conceiued the greater opinion of holines in her. In so much that, wheresoeuer she went to visite anie, that were sicke and diseased she would alwaies perswade with them, that they should commend them selues deuoutly to the holie virgin S. Caterine of Siena. By the which meanes she procured the recouerie of a [Page 452] great manie that were sicke of diuerse and sun­drie diseases.

On a tyme it chaunced, that one of this ladies owne children; sporting and runnyng rechlesly (as yong children are wont to doe) in an vpper lofte of the house, fell downe headlong to the ground in her presence. She, seeing the sodaine fall of her child, whome, as a good mother, she could not but loue tenderly, and considering of the thing, as it was like to be in the discourse of man (which was, that her sonne should either die presently, or els at the least be sore crusshed that he should prooue but a criple or wraile all the daies of his life after) cried out mightely and said. O blessed S. Caterine of Siena, I com­mend my child to thee. It is a wonderful matter to consider, that, though the height and other condicions of the place, from whence the child fell, were such, that in reason they might hope of none other, but only present death, yet, when they came to take vp the child, they found, that he had no maner of harme in anie part of his bodie, but was fully in as good case and liking after that great fall, as he was before. When the mother sawe that, she gaue most humble than­kes to almightie God and to his deere spowse S. Caterine: and ceased not, wheresoeuer she came, to set out her holines and vertues to the vtter­most of her power.

There was also a poore woman in the citie called good Ione, which, being a common lan­dresse, [Page 453] gate a poore liuing by seruing of others, & specially by washing of clothes. This Ione was­shing on a tyme by the riuers side called Tiber, happened emong other clothes to wash a quilte, of the which one part was in the riuer, and the other vnder her hand in washing. But, that part, the swame in the riuer, being heauier then the other, of a sodaine drewe that part, that was in wasshing, from vnder her, and so the whole was caried away with the swaie of the streame. Whē the poore womā sawe the quilt gone, & knewe, that, if it were lost, she was neuer able to paie for it: hauing a greater care to recouer the quilt, then to saue her selfe, she reached so farre after it, that she fell into the water also, and was caried likewise a good waie from the land. Being there in great distresse, and destitute of all mans helpe, it came to her mynd, what great miracles were wrought at that time in the citie by the ho­lie maid. Wherupon she cried out, & said. O bles­sed virgin S. Catherine of Siena, helpe me now in this great need. She had no sooner spoken those wordes, but that foorthwith she was holpen vp by the almightie hand of God, and brought against the course of the streame, and set with the quilt in her hand vpon the bancke, without anie helpe of man. When she sawe her selfe there, and could not imagin, how she came thither: she thā ­ked God with all her hart, and ascribed the bene­fite of her escaping from that present danger (as it was in deed) to the merites of B. S. Caterine.

Not long after the death of the holy maid, doct. Raimund. being made the general ouer his whole order, came to Rome, as his charge requi­red. And being there, translated the holie bodie of S. Caterine vpon that verie daie, that she had prophecied, that it should be done manie yeares before. By trauailing wherin, & in other affaires apperteining to his office, his bodie was distēpered in such sort, that he had need to haue the aduise of some learned phisicion. Wherupon he sent for one, that dwelt ther by, not farre from the monasterie, called maister Iames of our Ladie the round: which coming one time to visite doct: Raimundus & talking of the holy maid, told him of a very strāge thing, that had chaūced in his oune knouledge to a certaine yong man called Colas of Ciuccio. This Colas lay sick in his father in lawes house (whose name was Cincius Tancancim) of a verie grieuous disease in his throte, called the Squi­nancie. Which increased so mightely vpon him, that the phisiciōs gaue him ouer, & said plainely, that by the course of nature he must needes die, & that within a verie fewe houers, when the yōg mā was euen at the point of death, Alexia hearing of it (who loued Cincius wel, bicause he was a de­uout man and bare a singular affection to the holie maid in her life tyme) went to the house in great hast, and tooke with her a tooth of the holie maid: which she kept as a great relike and iewel. And when she came & sawe the yong mā, as it were, vpon passing out of this wordle, [Page 454] by reason that the aposteme had streightened his throte so much that he was euen at the point of choking: she put the said tooth to his throte. And foorthwith the aposteme brake, and he lifted vp his head, and auoided a great quantitie of rotten matter out at his mouth. And within a very litle tyme, he recouered perfectly, & gaue most hūble thākes to almighty God & to his glorious spouse S. Caterine: by the vertue of whose tooth, he con­fessed in al companies & in all places, wheresoe­uer he came, that he had ben deliuered euen from present death. In so much that one tyme, when doctour Raimundus had made a sermon in the cō ­mendation of the holy maid, & had emong other thinges touched this present miracle: the yong man being there at that tyme by chance, stood vp befor al the people, & said these wordes. It is true, that yee saie, maister doctour: for I am the man, vpon whom this great miracle was wrought.

At what tyme queene Ione of Sicilia sent Rai­nald of Vrsine with a great companie of men of armes against Pope Vrbane the sixt, with purpose either to expell him out of the citie, or els to take him, and so to put him to death: the Romaines stood verie duetifully, and fought manie skir­mishes in the defence of their citie and bisshop. In the which skirmishes manie of them (espe­cially of the inferiour sort) were taken by the enemie, and cruelly handled. Some were tied vp against trees, and so let alone, that they might die a long and paineful death. Some other, that [Page 455] were thought to be of some abilitie to ransome them selues, were lead into a brode field, and there, after diuerse and sundrie horrible tormen­tes, fettered with chaines and boltes of yron. Of these it was generally marcked, that, so manie as called vpon S. Caterine of Siena, were foorthwith loosed of their bandes, & returned home to their owne houses. And some of thē to doct. Raimundus, and declared to him and other, how wonderfully our Lord had wrought for their deliuerance.

These thinges did almightie God worke, to honour the holie virgin after her death & burial, with many other, that were not writen, through the negligēce of a certaine notarie, whome doct. Raimundus put in trust. Bicause he was him selfe at that tyme an old man, & could not remember so manie thinges, as were credibly reported to him, so particularly & so precisely, as, he knewe, was requisite for the credit of a holie legend or historie of a Sainctes life. Howbeit whatsoeuer lacked in him or in the notarie, was in some de­gree supplied by the deuotion of thē, that had re­ceiued such benefites. Of the which there came a meruelous great nōber both men & women, and offred vp (as the maner is) certaine images of wax vpō her tōbe: in the which was expressed, as wel as they could, the maner of each miracle, to the honour of God the worker and geuer of all good thinges, and of his glorious spowse S. Caterine, in contemplation of whose merites it pleased him to worke such good thinges at that tyme.