THE LIFE OF THE MOST HONOVRABLE AND VERTVOVS LADY THE LA. MAGDALEN VISCOVNTESSE MONTAGVE.

Written in Latin, and published soone after her death, By RICHARD SMITH, Doctour of Diuinity, and her Confessour.

And now translated into English, by C. F.

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Mulier timens Dominum, ipsa laudabitur.

Prou. 3.

Permissu Superiorum, M. DC. XXVII.

TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE ANTONY-MARIA, Viscount Montague, My very good Lord, and Mayster.

RIGHT HONOV­RABLE,

HAVING finished this little Translation, the Authour of the Worke, whose Will was to me a Commandment to vndertake the same, did also enioyne me to addresse it to the protectiō of some worthy Patron; which once resolued, I made no difficulty of the choyce. For as your Lord.p may of due iustice challeng the whole interest of all my actions and labours, this subiect in particuler hath most proper relation, before any other, vnto your Lordiship. For besides that it containes many pas­sages of the lyfe, and to the Honour of your Lo.ps most Worthy, and Honourable Grandfather, so neere, and deere vnto your Lordship; this [Page] Honourable Lady (whose Vertuous Lyfe is the scope of this treatise) though she were not the na­turall authour of your Lord.ps lyfe, as in Con­sanguinity descending from her; yet did she proue herselfe a true and tender Mother, and Grandmo­ther (which many euen naturall Parents neglect) in preseruing both your Lord.p, and your Honou­rable Fathers lyfe: and what her sincere affection and continuall care, was of your Lord.p in your tender yeares, none can better testify then your Lo.p. And though your Lo.p were not nourished with the milke of her breasts, yet your Lo.p hath sucked the true tast of her Vertues, and made your selfe an heyre of her Honourable talents. I hope therfore that your Lord.p, in regard of the Sub­iect, will fauour and countenance the Worke, & beare with the rudenes of the stile, which yet I pre­sume contayneth nothing but Truth: and therein is the more conformable to this Worthy, and Ho­noured Lady, who though exteriourly affected no curiosity, yea prudently shunned it; yet contayned in her, the sincerity of true Vertue & Piety. I be­seech Almighty God, to graunt your Lord.p all Happines and Prosperity, for your present Com­fort, and eternall Felicity for your future Glory.

Your Lord.ps most obliged Seruant, C. F.

THE PREFACE OF THE AVTHOR to the deuout Reader.

THOSE auncient Fathers (deuout Reader) who by their writings, eyther gaue ornament to the Christian Religion, or defended it a­gaynst Heretikes, did also accustome to com­mend to writing the liues of such pious women of their ty­mes, as eyther by affinity, or familiarity were conioyned vnto them. Wherof, whosoeuer hath byn but indifferent­ly The cause of this Worke. conuersant in the workes of S. Hierome, S. Augu­stine, S. Gregory, or others, cannot be ignorant. For these most holy men vnderstood, that therby they did sa­tisfy theyr owne deuotion, gaue honest intermission to We iudg vertues by the mind not by the sexe. their grauer studies, praysed God in his Saintes, and fi­nally by these examples induced others to piety. I imita­ting their proceedings, though in a far meaner degree, o­mitting for the present, my writing against our moderne Heretikes, (which also by enioyned employments, I was Hier. de obit. Mar­cellae. inforced to interrupt) haue vndertaken to write the lyfe of the right Vertuous Lady Magdalen, with whome I familiarly conuersed many yeares, and was her Confes­sour. The man­ner of writing. In writing wherof, as I haue endeauoured to a­uoyd barbarous language, so haue I purposely abstayned [Page] from the pleasing veyne of eloquence, & the flourishes of Rhetorike. For as the one vseth to offend the eares of the Reader, and sometymes to auert him from reading the matter written: so the other by ouermuch delighting ma­keth him lesse attentiue to the matter it selfe, and some­tymes makes him doubtfull of the truth therof. The beau­ty of a chast Matrone ought to be as free from paynting as from vncleannes. Let those be adorned with wordes whose lyfe is not adorned with deeds. Our Magdalen doth so shine with Vertues, that she needeth not the splē ­dour of a pleasing discourse. Yea rather, as she euer abstai­ned from painting, & neuer made vse of a looking-glasse: so is it requisite that all vnnecessary flourish of speech be shunned in the description of her lyfe. My principall ayme shalbe at the truth, that I write nothing, but what The fide­lity of this writing. my selfe haue seene, or haue receyued from the mouth of this Lady her selfe, or of other witnesses worthy of credit: so that with S. Hierome writing the lyfe of S. Paula, I may call IESVS to witnes, and his Saints, & the very Angell who was Guardian, and companion of this admirable Woman, that I speake nothing for fauour, nothing in flattering manner; but what I am to say, I speake as a testimony, and lesse then her merits. And that which may be a great satis­faction to indifferent Readers, what I heere commit to writing, I vttered before a great audience at the fune­rall of the Lady Magdalen, her familiar acquaintance there present; and diuulging it within the space of 19. monthes after her death, if I lye, I may be disproued by the mouth, eyes, & testimony of all that knew her; and especially of Heretikes, who sith they could not endure true glory to be attributed vnto her liuing, would lesse [Page] permit false honour to be fayned on her, dead. Therfore their silence in this matter may be an assured testimony That the liue so some pious peo­ple may be writen. vnto posterity of the truth of my discourse. But as I feare not calumniators of the truth, so do I desire to satisfy o­thers, who perhaps thinke that the liues only of such persons ought to be recorded, whose worthy Sanctity me­riteth that they be enrolled in the Catalogue of Saints. From the iudgment of these I cannot but dissent, consi­dering, that not only the liues of S. Paula, and S. Mar­cella, but also of Blesilla, Fabiola, and the like are wri­ten For exā ­ple. by that most graue Father. S. Hierome; and the life of S. Monica by her Sonne S. Augustine, whiles he feareth that she was yet detayned in the paines of Pur­gatory. And with good reason; for as Gods power doth not only shine in the composition of the sunne and moone, but appeareth also in the fabrick of the lesser starres: so his heauenly grace doth not only giue a lustre in the per­fection of famous Saints, but shineth euen in the worth of euery pious person. Besides the sunne and moone, to haue added also starres vnto the heauēs, was not the least increase of their ornament; and so to record the liues of some pious people, wilbe some addition to the glory of God For the honour of God. and of his Church. And as men for the most part do ra­ther admire then clime the highest mountaynes, who yet by the lownes of little hilles are inuited to ascend: so, more doe commend, then imitate the vertues of famous Saints, who yet with no great difficulty ayme at the pie­ty of lesse vertuous persons. And vnto these I propose a woman, not famous for rudenesse of habit, or rigour of diet, or seuerity of discipline, or abnegation of the For edifi­cation of our neighbour. world; but one that was humble, chast, meeke, pa­tient and pious, neither resplendent by miracles, but a­bounding [Page] with vertues: so that they who despaire to imi­tate the admirable sanctity of S. Mary Magdalen, may see themselues capable to attaine the piety of Magdalen Viscountesse Montague. Neither yet doe I enrole her in the number of Saints, or the Blessed: Mine intention is only for the glory of God, & edification of my neyghbour, sincerely to commend her lyfe to writing; whether she de­serued the opinion of sanctity, let others iudge. Thus much (deuout Reader) I desired to premonish thee, be­fore thou takest in hand, the reading of the lyfe of our Magdalen. Make thou the benefit thereof, and fare­well.

THE LIFE OF THE LADY MAGDALEN VISCOVNTESSE Montague.

Of the Birth of the La. Magdalen Viscountesse Montague, and her Education vnder her Mother.
CHAP. 1.

THE most Ho.ble and Vertuous Lady Magdalen Viscountesse Montague, was borne in England, of most Noble & Ca­tholike parents, at Naward Castell, the Mansion-house of her Father, scituat in the County of Cumberland, not far from the borders of Scotland, the yeare of The Fa­ther of the La. Mag­dalen. Christ 1538. the 20. of Ianuary. Her Father was William Lord Dacre, Baron of Ghisland, a man, besides the most an­cient Nobility of his family, of such power and estate, as that he possessed seauen Baronyes (which scarce any No­ble man of England euer had) and was of eminent autho­rity His nobi­lity. in the North parts of England, and both himselfe and his ancestors of very famous esteeme in England, in regard of their notable prowesse in matters of warre, for the sa­fety and honour of their Country. Neither was he of lesse His piety. [Page 2] piety towards God, for when King Henry the VIII. cal­ling a Parlament, purposed by the voyces of both Houses to renounce the obedience to the Church of Rome, and by an vnheard of President to arrogate vnto himselfe the ti­tle Sander. de schism. l. 1. p. 120. of head of the Church of England, fearing least the Lord Dacre would not only refuse to assent vnto his lust, but by his example and authority would animate others to the defence of the ancient fayth, he tooke order to haue him called in question for treason; wherin notwithstanding he was easily declared innocent. And when afterwards the King told him, that by the consent of Parlament he was made Head of the English Church, and demaunded his opinion what he thought therof; scoffingly deriding the vanity of the King, he answered: Hereafter then when your Maiesty offendeth, you may absolue your selfe. Another time when Queene Elizabeth the daughter of Henry, excee­ding her Father, endeauoured vtterly to exterminate Ca­tholike Religion out of England, the Lord Dacre exhorted the Nobility not to giue consent to such an enormous act, and to certaine of them offered himselfe and his for­ces for defence of the Catholique Religion. Her Mother was a woman of like Nobility and Piety, the daughter of N. Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury; whose ancestors for their The Mo­ther of the La. Mag­dalen. most heroicall victories gotten in France, are exceeding famous both in the French & English Chronicles. And so terrible hath the name of Talbot byn heretofore vnto the French, that Mothers and nurses to still their crying chil­dren, accustomed to say, Talbot comes. Of these most noble ancestors descended the La. Magdalen Montague, which I relate not, as though she did much esteeme therof, but because, though Nobility do not augment the valour of vertue, yet it doth adde a kind of lustre, and ornament vnto it, and maketh it to appeare more gracious in the sight of man. For, as we may say with the Poet: ‘Gratior est claro veniens de sanguine Virtus.’ ‘Vertue hath more grace, when it descends of noble race.’ For as a pearle is of great price, though it be hidden vnder [Page 3] the earth, or couered with ordure be trodden vnder foot; or to vse S. Hieromes words: A Iewell glittereth in loathsome Epist. 2 [...]. matter, and the splendour of a most pure pearle shineth euen in dirt; yet it is more gracious and delectable, when it is set in gold. So vertue is very estimable with whatsoeuer ragged pouerty it is ioyned; but where it is vested with Nobility, as it were with purple, it doth mooue a greater admira­tion; and as the Sunne in a cleare day dispersing the clou­des, doth far and neere dilate the beames of his light. For as nothing appeareth more pleasing and beautifull to those that cast vp their eyes, then the heauens in a cleere night glittering with diuers starres: so to vs casting dow­ne our sight, nothing appeareth more gracious, then No­bility, adorned, and as it were glittering with diuers de­grees of vertue. For Nobility illustrated with Vertues, is a heauen scituate on earth adorned with starres. Which in these times we may auerre to be so much the more true, as the coniunction of Vertue with Nobility is more rare. There was a time when Kings, Queenes, and Princes, Many ho­ly Kings & Quee­nes in En­gland in time past. men and women in England, as they excelled others in dignity, so did they endeauour to exceed them in vertue: whence we may find recorded among the Saints, neere twenty Kings of England, and as many Queenes, but of Kings children, Princes & noble persons more then may be nūbred. But now (O griefe) our Princes saruing from the fayth of their predecessors, the Nobility also (for the most part) degenerate from the piety of their ancestors. Wherfore this noble woman deserueth the greater prayse before God and men, who would not staine her Nobility with vices and impious heresie, but endeauoured with all her forces to adorne and illustrate it with vertues, and the purity of the Catholike fayth, as in the discourse of her life shall appeare. Till the thirteenth yeare of her age she had her education in her Fathers house, vnder the pious gouernment of her Mother, where although, as well in regard of her youthfull yeares, as by example of her si­sters, and the custome of other Noble Virgins, as also by [Page 4] the delight of the pastime, she might haue bin induced to She delig­teth not in hunting. the sports of hauking and hunting, she notwithstanding contemning all this pleasure, made choice by example of the B. Virgin, rather to abide in quiet repose at home, then after the manner of prophane Diana, by chasing wilde beasts and foule, to stray in the mountaines and forrests; & so without a teacher she fulfilled the counsaile which S. Hierome giueth to Virgins: Let her neuer goe forth, least those Epist. ad Laet [...]. who wander about the citty do find her, least they strike, and wound her, and bereaue her of the veyle of her chastity.

Of her Education, vnder the Countesse of Bedford.
CHAP. II.

VVHen she was now thirteene yeares of age, she was by her Father commended to the Coun­tesse of Bedford, to be educated vnder the prudēt discipline of that Catholique and Religious Lady. Of whome she accustomed to make this relation, which for the instructi­on of other women, I thought very requisite to commit A barren woman immode­ratly desi­reth chil­dren. to writing. Wheras she was barren, & had a vehement de­sire to haue a child, she for a long tyme both by her selfe & others besought Almighty God to vouchsafe to graunt her a sonne. But as Christ sayd to his disciples, Nescitis quid petatis, yee know not what yee aske; & as S. Augustine wit­nesseth, God sometymes in anger granteth our petition: so this pious woman by the ill euent experienced, that she knew not what she asked, and insteed of a benefit, requested a punishment of God. For she brought forth a She is pu­nished by them. sonne, but such a one, as not only fell into heresy, which she did extremely abhorre, but did oftentimes so impiou­sly behaue himself towards his Mother, as that she would sometymes with exceeding griefe and teares publikely confesse, that she grieuously offended God, when desi­ring a sonne, she had not added this condition, If it might be for his glory, and her comfort; and therfore (sayd she) I am iustly punished by the thing I immoderatly desyred. [Page 5] Which may be a document to pious parents, that sterility is not alwayes to be esteemed as a punishment inflicted of God, nor that children are alwayes to be reputed as a gift, and testimony of diuine fauour; and that they should demaund no temporall thing of God, but as far forth as his diuine prouidence foreseeth it to be agreable to his pleasure, and profitable for them. But let vs returne to the La. Mōtague. She liued three yeares vnder the said Coun­tesse, whome she so diligently attended, that she did not only performe the office of her gentlewoman, but in the absence of her chamber-mayd, discharged her seruice al­so, being ready euery houre of the night whensoeuer the Countesse called (which by reason of her old age and in­firmities she often did) to rise out of her bed, and diligent­ly to attend her. Yea the right Noble Virgin being deli­cately educated, did not disdaine, of her owne accord, and vnknowne to the Countesse, to performe that base kind of seruice, which curious eares refuse to heare related. So much had God preuented her with his benedictions, and Her rare humility and duty. had indued her with such humility, euen in that age, wherein, as being the flower of youth, women are ordi­narily puffed vp in pride and insolencie. And this act she sometimes accustomed to relate to her Grand-children without blushing, yea with a kind of complacence, by such example to exhort them to humility.

Of her liuing at the Court, vnder Queene Mary, and of her Marriage vnto the Viscount Montague.
CHAP. III.

VVHen in this manner she had spent three yeares in all vertue and piety, vnder the discipline of the Countesse of Bedford, it happened that K. Edward the sixt being dead (whose childhood certaine impious men abused to ouerthrow Catholike Religion in England) Queene Mary, not without euident miracle, & the great [Page 6] benignity of God, against all power and policy of here­tikes, obtayned the Kingdome of England; and expel­ling perfidious heresy, restablished the auncient and true Religion. She admitted Magdalen to the Court, and to She is Maid of honour to Q Mary. the number of her noble wayting-women (who are v­sually called Ladyes of Honour) where her vertue and virginall modesty got, not only more ample place to de­monstrate it selfe, but also found greater occasion and e­xample of progresse and increase. For at that tyme the Court of England was a schoole of vertue, a nursery of pu­rity, a mansion of piety. The Queene her selfe did shine What the Court of England vvas vn­der Q Mary. as the Moone in all kind of vertue, whose prayses all hi­stories doe record. Her Ladyes and women did glitter as the starres; and what shining starres they were, the Rea­der may coniecture by what I will relate of one of them from the mouth of the La. Magdalen. She accustomed to arise from her bed very early, and attyring her selfe with all possible speed, hastened to the Chappell, where knee­ling against a wall, and the other part of her face couered with her head attyre, she accustomed to spend certayne houres in deuout prayer, and to shed abundance of teares before Almighty God. And yet withall, would she not be any tyme absent frō any office of piety prescribed to her, & her cōpanions. Neyther was she content in this sort to spend the day, but arose from her bed in the night, and prostrate on the ground applyed her self to prayer a good part of the night. Which, when the La. Magdalen had once perceyued, she finding her deuotion to be discoue­red, no otherwise then if she had byn apprehended in Rare de­uotion of of one of the may­des of ho­nour. some notorious Iewd fault, falling on her knees, with many teares she besought her for the honour of God, that she would not bewray her secret exercises of piety to any creature whiles she liued. O humble, O truly pious vir­gin, and truly a Mayd (as she was called) of Honour! for she was a mayd of Honesty, of Purity, and of Piety. O happy Court with such Courtyers! and happy England with such a Court, which for vertuous lyfe, gaue not [Page 7] place to many Cloysters, & whence, as from a fountain­head, examples of piety did flow into all Prouinces of England! Would to God this purity had continued in our Virgin Courtiers, and the Mother therof, the Catho­like Religion, had still florished; then had not the Court of England byn spotted with the notorious infamy of las­ciuiousnes, as soone after it was. But that I may expresse my griefe in this cause, I desire my Countrymen to con­sider the notable purity of the maydes of Honour vnder Queene Mary, and the infamous reproches which some The dif­ference of the Court vnder a Catholike and an hereticall Queene. of them haue incurred vnder Q. Elizabeth; and they will find what difference there is betweene a most chast Re­ligion, and a most impure Heresy. Vnder such a worthy Queene, and with such Companions the La. Magdalen being educated, she had scarce liued two yeares in the Court, but that the rare vertues, and ornaments both of her body and her soule, drew the hartes of many princi­pall Courtyers to affect her. Among whome, two espe­cially at one tyme did earnestly seeke her in the way of Diuers desire to marry the La. Mag­dalen. mariage. The one was Syr Iohn Arundell knight, cōmonly (for his great wealth & authority) called the Great; who afterward vnder Q. Elizabeth, suffering long imprison­ment for the Catholike Fayth, dyed a glorious Confes­sour. He was so enflamed with chast affection towardes this Lady, that he would neuer desist to sollicite her, till he vnderstood that her Espousalls with another were pu­blished. Then hauing lost his hope, though not his affe­ction, he came to her, and congratulating her espousalls, wished her the most fortunate and happy mariage that e­uer woman had. The other was Antony, Lord Viscount Montague, the issue of the most famous Marquesse Monta­gue (who descended both of the house of Lancaster, and of the most auncient Nobility of England) one of the pri­uy Councell of the Queene, and knight of the most No­ble Order of the garter. This Nobleman, before he ope­ned his desire vnto the La. Magdalen, sought by letters, the consent of the Queene, who with no small commen­dations [Page 8] of her Mayd, wrote him this answere: Hauing consi­dered The letter of Queene Mary. her person, her vertuous report, birth, great number of friends and other benefits which this Alliance will bring vnto you, with other like motiues, which I perceiue you prudently ponder, I confesse that I so fauour this matter, as I do not only giue free consent, that you treat with her therof, but also, so fit do I esteeme this match to ech of you, that with my hart I wish it a happy conclusion; & shall exceedingly ioy, that you haue found so conuenient a wife, and she so fortunate a condition. The most Ho.ble Viscount hauing in this sort obtayned first the consent of the Queene, & then of the Lady, of her Parents, and friends, marryed her in She is ma­ryed to the Viscount Montague London at the Kinges house called S. Iames, the Queene her selfe with a great traine of the Nobility being present. This then was that Isaac, whome God prepared for this most chast Rebecca, of whose heroicall Vertues, I will briefly note some few, which I receiued from this Ladies mouth, because they giue some light to the relating of her Piety.

Of the worthy Vertues of the Viscount Montague, husband of the La. Magdalen.
CHAP. IV.

THe first Vertue that occurreth to be related of this A rare af­fection vnto cha­stity in the Viscount. Noble man, is his rare affection vnto chastity. For when (his Mother being dead) his Father kept a Concu­bine, as soone as this yong Gent. vnderstood therof, he went alone to his Father, and on his knees besought him to leaue that course of life, so hatefull vnto God, damna­ble to his soule, and dishonorable to all his friends; and to take to wife some honest Gentlewoman, with whome he might liue honourably before men, and in the fauour of God. To whome his Father smyling, sayd: Thou doest giue me such counsayle, Sonne, as will be thirty thousand pounds out of thy way. But the pious youth answered, that he nothing regarded that losse, whereby [Page 9] he might gaine his Fathers soule and reputation. And so much did the pious admonition of the Sonne preuaile with the Father, that dismissing his Concubine, he mar­ryed a wife, with whome he spent the rest of his life ho­nestly. And the Sonne in this one act shewed great piety towards his Father, religion towards God, and with con­tempt of riches an admirable loue of chastity, euen at that time when, heresie being newly crept into England, in a manner all the youth was corrupted with all kind of las­ciuious liberty. Neither was this a sparkle, which after a litle blaze is sodenly extinguished, but a true flame of af­fection vnto chastity, and a firme purpose rather to ha­zard his life, then his chastity. For when afterward he was Embassadour in Spayne, and was fallen into a most perillous and molestfull disease, and the Phisitians gaue iudgement, that he could not recouer, vnlesse he had the company of a woman; and at that time there lying dire­ctly ouer against his lodgings a most beautifull English queane, who by all lasciuious allurements endeauoured to induce him to lewdnes; notwithstanding, neither by the Counsaile of the Phisitians, nor the perswasion of o­thers, He pre­ferreth Chastity before his life. nor the wanton allurements of the queane, nor the loue of his life could he be moued, to preferre the health of his body before the safety of his soule, or the loue of his life before his charity vnto God; but vtterly reiecting all lewd Counsaile, he was neuer quiet till he had banished the queane out of those lodgings. O holy man! O chast Ioseph, whome neyther the pleasure of sinne, nor the im­punity and secresie of the fact, nor the hope of health, nor the feare of death could induce to incurre the losse of his chastity, to violate his fayth plighted to his wife, or to of­fend God. And albeit, being shortly after by the Queene recalled into his Country, he recouered of this disease, who yet would not esteeme him equall, or very like to B. Leopoldus, and other most holy men, who chose rather to loose their liues, then to abuse their bodies inconti­nently? And this his worthy chastity was accompanied [Page 10] with equall, or rather greater loue of Gods worship and Religion. For when K. Edward the sixt (or rather others in his name) abolishing the religion of his predecessors, as an other Ieroboam, had erected a new Altar, and set vp gol­den calues (I meane a new worship, or rather supersti­tion) and almost all people, either for affectation of no­uelty, or for feare of punishment flocked to that new and enormous superstition, this pious youth would not staine himselfe with such haynous crime; but like an other To­bias sought out the seruice of God, practised by his Pa­rents, and both deuoutly, and publikly, and with due re­uerence frequented the same. For which matter being He is cō ­mitted to prison for the ser­uice of God. committed to prison, he was so far from being deiected therewith, that adorning his chamber with tapistry, he therby gaue his persecutors assurance, that his purpose was, rather with Daniell to liue in prison, then to ab­staine from the diuine seruice of his God. Neither did he alone so constantly imbrace the Catholike Religion, but did also animate others to the like constancy. For when his Father by the impious aduise of some others, for to auoyd the offence of Heretikes, was perswaded to absent himselfe from the Parlamēt, that day when vnder Edward the sixt it was consulted of changing Religion; when the vertuous yōg Gent. vnderstood therof, he neuer desisted till by prayers, teares, and such other reasons as he could, he had wrought his Father to go to the Parlament, and couragiously to giue his voyce for the true Religion. And when afterward vnder Q. Mary the true Religion did florish againe, none was more studious then he to aduāce the Catholike fayth. For which his zeale, and other ver­tues worthy of such imployment, he especially was cho­sen He is sent Embassa­dour to the Pope. of that Queene to goe Embassadour to the Pope, and desiring pardon of the schisme past, to promise future obe­dience in the name of the whole kingdome. Which he performed to his exceeding prayse, the honour of his na­tion, the glory of God, and the applause of the Christiā world. But when a few yeares after (with griese be it [Page 11] spoken) by commaundement of Queene Elizabeth, there He exhor­teth the Nobility to main­taine the Catho­like fayth was consultation agayne among the Nobility of the Re­alme for suppressing the Catholike Fayth, this most No­ble Viscount, making a graue, eloquent, and pithy o­ration, exhorted thē not to permit themselues to be car­ryed away with euery wind of new doctrine, nor to dis­solue that, which themselues so very lately had ratifyed, and with solemne ceremony had promised inuiolably to obserue; nor to abolish that Religion, wherein all their Christian ancestors liued with such splendour, and dyed with such piety, to imbrace that which a small number, & they base, voluptuous, turbulent men of no reputation, & disagreeing among themselues, had inuented, and which had neuer set foot in England, had not in famous lust, and greedines of Church-goods depraued K. Henry the VIII. But when he perceiued the principall of the Nobility of the realme, partly being deluded with the vaine hope of marrying the Q. partly blinded with the couetous desire of earthly riches, not to admit good Counsaile, but like the deafe aspe to stop their eares (as the Psalmist sayth) at whatsoeuer voyces sweetly enchaunting, what he could not perswade others, himselfe constantly maintayned, & obserued. And if somtime afterward he went to hereti­call Churches, it was not so much to be imputed to him, as to his Priest, a learned and piousman indeed, but too fearfull, who supposing it expedient something to giue to the tyme, durst not determine such a fact to be sinne. For when that Priest being dead, he had entertayned an­other, who with Priestly courage told him that it was a grieuous offence and hatefull to God and the Church, & pernicious to his soule, to be present at hereticall seruice, he was so far from defending his fact, that (as I receiued from the mouth of one that was present) instantly put­ting of his hat, & falling on his knees, both with gesture of his whole body, & with his tongue, he most humbly submitted himself to the censure of the catholike Church, and piously promised neuer thence forward to be present [Page 12] at hereticall seruice, which all the rest of his lyfe he exact­ly obserued. Many other notable things might be rela­ted of this right Nobleman, but that mine intended sub­iect calleth me another way, and therfore I will adde only one thing, that the Reader may vnderstand in what pious manner this worthy man ended his holy lyfe. Whē it pleased God to purge the rust of his sinnes in this lyfe, he permitted him to fall into a tedious, troublesome, and lingring kind of infirmity, wherof he dyed. Which in the opinion of many, happening vnto him by witch-craft, (from which opinion himselfe seemed not to dissent) though certayne Sorcerers promised to restore him to his former health, if he would but giue way therto; he not only refused to consent to their iniquity, but detesting all helpes of the slaues of Sathan, seuerely forbad his friends euer to vse such detestable remedyes, for the recouery of his health. And so declaring, not only in words with the Psalmist, but euen in deeds: Meliorem sibi misericordiam Psal. 62. Dei esse super vitas, That Gods mercy was better to him then lyfe, being by a long triall purged, he piously ended his lyfe in our Lord.

Of the mutuall loue betweene the La. Magdalen, and her Hus­band; of her issue, and of her rare Charity towards her hus­bands children.
CHAP. V.

BY the aforesayd piety of the Viscount, it wilbe easy for the Reader to make a coniecture of the conuer­sation of his Lady, who being of her owne nature and The ex­ceeding loue be­tvveene the La. Mag. and her hus­band. education addicted vnto piety, by the further iuducemēts of her husbands example, more speedily ran the course of vertue. They liued together in great loue and amity 36. yeares: and whiles I was writing this, I lighted by chance on a letter of D. Langdales, who was for many yeares theyr Confessor, wherein, in testimony of theyr loue and piety he thus speaketh vnto them: Fare yee well, [Page 13] most louing couple, of one mind, of one loue, & (which is rare in this world) of one piety. She (as S. Augustine left written of S. Confess. l. 9. c. 9. Monica) being ioyned to a husband, serued him as her Lord; and God made her beautifull, and reuerently amiable, and admirable to her husband. Her husband had by her eight children, Syr George Browne, & Syr Henry Browne honourable knights, and Elizabeth wife to the Lord Dormer; of whose pray­ses The chil­dren of the La. Magda­len. because they yet lyue (according the Counsayle of the wisemā) I wilbe silent; the residue dyed eyther infants or vnmaryed, leauing no issue, excepting Mrs. Iane Browne most like her mother in vertue, maryed to Francis Lacon Esquire, to whome she brought forth many children. And Fateor nulla sic amabat liberos. Hier, de Sancta Paula. albeyt the La. Magdalen most tenderly loued her children and (what she could without iniury to others) careful­ly aymed at their preferment; yet her husband hauing by a former wyfe one only Sonne, of exceeding tender con­stitution and infirme, who only was to precede her Sons in his Fathers in heritance, she had neuertheles so sollici­tous a care of his health, as if he had byn her owne child. Yea his Sonne, the present most Honourable Viscount Her vvor­thy chari­ty to­vvards her sonne in-lavv. Montague, both by words (as I vnderstand) and by wri­tings (as we shall hereafter recite) imputeth the benefit of his owne, and his Fathers lyfe to the rare piety of this Mother-in-law, which is also confimed by the testimony of others. And when also, by an offence which her hus­band conceyued, occasion was presented whereby she Infrac. 16. might exceedingly haue raysed the fortunes of her owne children, she was so far from making vse thereof, to the She pre­serueth the life of her sonne-in lavv, and of his sonne. iniury of her Sonne-in-law his child, that she paci­fyed her husband, and reduced him into fauour. So much did eyther the loue of her husband, whome she af­fected in all his children, or the ingrafted Nobility of mind, or finally the loue of God, and equity preuayle with her. In which proceeding she shewed a worthy e­xample to all Mothers-in-law; and so much therfore did she purchase the loue of the present Viscount, that none of her owne children exceeded him in filiall affection. [Page 14] And though, at the tyme that her husband dyed, she see­med in the iudgement of many, to be neerer death her selfe; yet so much force did loue adde vnto her, that arising out of her bed, she held him in her armes whiles he yielded vp his last breath. And as S. Hierome writeth of the most noble widdow S. Paula: She so bewayled him, as if she would haue dyed with him; she so betooke her selfe to the seruice of God, as she seemed to haue wished his death. For wheras for­merly obliged to wedlock, she was constrayned to think Her pie­ty and gratitude tovvards her hus­band de­ceased. (as the Apostle sayth) how also to please her husband, now that band being dissolued, and hauing gotten a more setled freedome of exercising her vertue, she applied herselfe more attentiuely to the seruice of God. Neither yet did she neglect the care of her husbands soule, for whome she twice euery weeke caused Masse to be sayd, and herselfe sayd the office of the dead; euery yeare she procured a so­lemne Aniuersary on the day of his departure, & most fre­quently when she tooke her repast, and often at other ti­mes, euen to the last day of her life, she was most grate­fully mindfull of him, vsing these, or the like words: God be mercifull to his soule who left me this. But now leauing her husband let vs come to her vertues. Wherof before I begin to speake, this I must professe, that I neither know them all, nor can I according to their worth expresse any one of them. For if the most eloquent Father S. Hierome con­fessed, that although all his members were conuerted into tōgues, & all his ioynts did sound with humane voyce, yet could he deliuer no­thing worthy the vertues of S. Paula: What may I hope for, In vita S. Paulae. who am not worthy to carry the bookes of S. Hierome, & yet am to write the life of that widdow, who as she did e­quall S. Paula in Nobility, so did she imitate her in ver­tues. I will therfore partly imitate those painters, who be­ing to describe some Army on a tablet, do draw the iust proportion of some few soldiers, but of the residue they make appeare only their heades, or the vpper part of their helmets, or the points of their speares, wherby they inti­mate the number of the soldiers to be great, which they [Page 15] can rather propose to the vnderstanding of the beholders, then exhibite to their eyes. Thus I see I must endeauour in writing the lyfe of this pious Lady, that I may describe some few of her vertues most apparent vnto me, but the rest I must leaue to be conceyued in the secret iudgment of the Reader. Although euen in this I shall easily find the Pensill of the Painter more fortunate then my Pen, for he can draw the iust stature and true proportion of all the members, at least of some of the soldiers; wheras my Pen cannot fully and entirely describe any one vertue of this pious Lady. Which that I speak without amplificatiō is apparent to all that knew her, and the prudent Rea­der may easily conceaue as much, by what I am to relate.

Of the excellent Humility of the La. Magdalen.
CHAP. VI.

BEcause, as the most graue Doctour of the Church S. Hierome writeth in the lyfe of S. Paula: The first, or chiefe In act ho [...] 30. vertue of a Christian is Humility. And as S. Chrysostome sayth; It is the Roote, Mother, and Nurse, the support, and bound of all good things; therfore being to write the vertues of this pi­ous woman, let vs beginne with her Humility. That she was eminent heerein, is apparent by her speach, her con­uersation, Her hu­mility in speach. attire, and acts. For her speach was mild and peaceable, and free from all contention, and more rea­dy to giue way to, then to contend euen with her infe­riours. Neyther did she disdaine to speake vnto any, yea In her conuersa­tion. when she walked abroad, she sometymes tooke occasion of discourse with such poore people as she casually met with all, and sometymes went to their houses, and fa­miliarly discoursed with them of their affayres. She shun­ned not the conuersation of any honest person, yea she In her ap­parell. visited the poore, therby to get them the more estimatiō among their neighbours. Her attyre, after the death of her husband, when she was not bound to please the eyes of [Page 16] any man, was such, that as S. Hierome writeth of S. Pau­la: Who had not knowne her, would not take her to be who she was, but to be the meanest of the hand-mayds. On working dayes, she had her head dressed with plaine linnen, couered with an ordinary Hat, vsed in England commonly, by seruing-Maydes. But on Feasts (in honour of the Dayes) she put on a French-hood. Her gowne in Summer was of say, in winter of Cotton, on which, to keep her shoulders from cold, she cōmonly wore a course Irish mantle. She neuer wore knit stockings, either of silke, worsted, & wollē, but She neuer adorned her selfe by a glas­se. only and altogether of Kersie. Her smock was of rude & course linnen, such as noble women would esteeme a pē ­nance to weare. She neuer in her life dressed her head, or adorned her selfe by a glasse, which in a woman, espe­ciall Noble, and a Courtier, may be esteemed as a mira­cle, sith women otherwise deuout, haue byn subiect to this defect. In so much, as S. Hierome writeth of Blesilla; That she looked all the day in a glasse, to see what she wanted. For what do women more anxiously ayme at, thē to adorne their face, who, dum moliuntur (as he sayd) dum comuntur, dum In vita Paulae. pectuntur, annus est. A yeare doth but suffice to adorne, attire & beautify themselues. And wherof should that woman be proud, who neglects her face? That it may be lesse ad­mirable, that our Magdalen was free from that imperfe­ction, wherunto euen S. Paula in her youth was subiect, by the confession of S. Hierome, to wit, of painting her face with cheeke vernish, ceruse, or other like colourings. For her endeauour was to adorne her soule with vertues, and the glasse wherin she daily beheld the same, was her cō ­science, as by that which we shall heereafter relate, shall more clearly appeare. And that we may speake a litle of Her acts of humi­lity. the actes of her humility, what I pray you, was that which we formerly mentioned, when in her tender youth, vn­bidden, & vnknowne to her Lady, she freely performed such a base office? What was that other act, which she fre­quently exercised, as to be present at the trauell of diuers meane, and poore women, and her selfe girded with an [Page 17] apron diligently to assist thē? These certainly were wor­thy and euident testimonies of profound humility; yet of all the rest is this most excellent, knowne only to my selfe. Wheras she had made choyce to vse me in the Sacra­ment of Confession, I aduised her of a certaine methode of discussing her conscience, more conuenient for her (in mine opinion) then that she had formerly vsed. Wherein I did perhaps so imperfectly expresse my meaning, that the pious Lady vnderstood me to suspect, that she did not sincerely discouer her sinnes, but did conceale something requisite to be opened. And what (thinke you) did this Lady, no lesse eminēt in Estate then in Nobility, so deep­ly touched (as to her seemed) in her honour, and so iniu­stly condemned (as she conceiued) of so hainous a crime as is sacriledge, and the abuse of almighty God in the Sacra­ment? and this by him whome she so much esteemed, as before any other she chose him for guide & Pastour of her soule? What did she I say? did she by countenance, word, act, or gesture discouer any signe of offence? Yea, did she excuse her selfe, or aske what moued me to giue so grie­uous a censure of her? None of all these; but making most humble reuerence, departed, and so remayned a whole weeke, shewing in all that time no token of displeasure. But yet, when almighty God had by this meanes tryed A rare humility in secret. the humility, and patience of his seruant, therby perhaps to let me know what an humble soule he had committed to my care, he suggested vnto her in her next confession to aske me, for what cause I suspected that she had con­cealed something in confession, more fearing my iudg­ment, then relying on her owne innocency, and doub­ting that I did perceyue something, which she saw not in her selfe. O submissiue humility! O profound resignatiō of the soule of this great Lady! And truly great, because in her owne eyes she was so little. Some Penitents per­haps would haue taken it grieuously, to haue byn que­stioned of such lesser faultes whereof their consciences ac­cused them; others would take it offensiuely, to be exa­mined [Page 18] of those crimes, wherof there might be iust suspi­cion that they were guilty; but this humble and truly penitent woman, was content not only to be examined of her sinnes (yea this she very much desired) but euen (as she conceyued) to be condemned, not of some sleight de­fect, but of a most grieuous cryme; and out of her humi­lity, more feared the iudgment of her Confessour, then confided in the testimony of her owne conscience. And therfore if according to the greatnes of her Humility, we will measure the worth of her other vertues, (as he did who by the foot-step of Hercules aymed at his whole sta­ture) we may without any other argument collect, that the rare submission of this soule was consequently accom­panyed with many excellent vertues. For where God layd so solid a foundation of humility, out of all doubt he built a notable edifice of vertue. For where there is much Humility, there is much Sanctity. Whence the most sa­cred Mother of Christ, and his Precursor, as they exceeded all other in humility, so did they precede them in sancti­ty. Of this her Humility then it proceeded, that she fre­quently An hum­ble saying and deed. accustomed to say, that she was a sack of dung; and when in her last sicknes her drinke did once displease her, sodenly reprehending her selfe, and bitterly wee­ping, she sayd: Why should I mislike my drink for whome any drink is too good? And she at length had gotten so perfect a victory ouer Pride, that a litle before her death, with great confidence in God, & consolation of mind, she told She triū ­pheth o­uer pride. me, that thence forward she feared not pryde. O happy woman, who in earth cold triumph ouer that vice which threw the highest Cherubims downe from the highest place of heauen, and cast our first parents out of Paradise, and then which, Piety hath not a more capitall enemy! For as it is most difficult to suppresse a flame; so is it hard not to glory when one hath done any thing worthy of prayse. How highly then hath God now eleuated this woman, who promised to exalt the humble? and how iustly might she chalenge a place of the lapsed Angells, [Page 19] who by humility ascended thither, whence they by pride did fall?

Of her notable Chastity.
CHAP. VII.

THE next vertue of this pious womā wherof we are to speake, is her Chastity. This in both sexes is most precious; for as the Scripture witnesseth, There is no suffi­cient Ecclesiast. c. 29. worthy esteeme of a continent soule: Yet doth it especially shine in women, as the principall flower in their garlād, so that the same scripture sayth: Gratia super gratiam, mulier Cap. 26. sancta & pudorata. But a woman wanting this vertue, tan­quam stercusin via conculcabitur, as the same scripture sayth. Cap. 9. But this womans Chastity did equall her humility, wher­of in the tyme of her virginity, of her wedlocke, and of her widdowhood, she gaue euidēt testimonies. For whi­les she liued a mayd of honour in the Court, on a tyme King Philip who had maryed Queene Mary, youthful­ly opened a window, where by chance she was wa­shing her face, and sportingly putting in his arme, which some other would perhaps haue taken as a great honour, and reioyced therat, she knowing that the condition of virgins was not vnlike vnto flowers, which with the least touch doe loose of their beauty, hauing more regard of her owne purity, then of the Kings Maiesty, she tooke She shar­ply reie­cteth the Kings ie­sting. a staffe lying by, and strongly stroke the King on the ar­me. Which fact the prudēt King did not only take with­out offence, but it was the increase of her honour and esteeme. And in what manner, thinke you, would she haue disdayned any other, who so reiected the King? or what would she not haue done against the King, attemp­ting any lewdnes, who so entertayned him iesting? When she was marryed, she so carryed her selfe, that as S. Hie­rome writeth of S. Paula: She was an example to all Matrones, & so behaued herselfe, that the tongues euen of ill speakers neuer durst forge any ill of her. For who could speake any dishonest [Page 20] thing of her? who euer heard impute speach of her mouth? who could charge her with any wanton cast of her eye? who could discouer in her any vnchast affection? Yet did she not want occasions of incontinencie, whiles her hus­hand was thrice out of England, nor did there want lewd sollicitors, euen of the chiefest ranck of England, whose dis­course when she perceiued to tend thereunto, she with a certaine pious indignation so reiected them, that they durst not twice attempt the same. And this her chastity was so perspicuous, and well knowne, that it so repressed the inclinations, and brideled the tongues euen of sha­meles She brid­leth the wanton­nes of shameles persons. persons, as that they were ashamed to attempt, or vtter any lewd matter in her presence. And albeit she chose not the highest degree of Chastity, which is Virgi­nity; that, perhaps may rather be ascribed to want of ad­uise and counsaile (wherof she often lamented to haue bin destitute in her youth) then of desire to follow the best. For when, being 18. yeares of age, and newly marryed, her husband was sent to that famous seige of S. Quintius, she made a firme resolution, if he should dye, neuer to know any other man: so that we may iudge of her, as S. Hierome writeth of S. Paula: Hauing once entred Matrimonie, she neuer thought of other thing day or night, but, the fruit of marriage being rendred, how to attaine the second degree of chastity. For her hus­band being dead, the Lord Cobham, a man of great estate, honour, and authority in the realme, did most earnestly She refu­seth se­cond Ma­riage. seeke her in mariage, and offered her a very fayre dowry, but she gaue him so resolute a denyall, that thence forward she was no more sollicited by sutors. This example is not ordinary in England, in this so corrupt an age, where some­times women of honour, after the death of their husbāds, not finding others equall to thēselues in dignity, do mary euen their seruants, or men of meane condition. In this manner liued this Hon.ble Lady all her life, without re­prehension (as S. Paul speaketh) in the middest of a crooked and peruerse Natiō, among whome she shined as light in the world. And Phil. 2. albeit these be arguments of rare chastity, yet I will adde [Page 21] one far more singular & eminent, the truth wherof though it depend on her only testimony, yet sith God doth deuide to euery one (as the Apostle sayth) according as he will, & im­parteth 1. Cor. 12. greater guiftes vnto his seruants; and she being so worthy a Lady, as whosoeuer knew her, could haue no suspition that for vaine glory she would delude her con­fessor, I litle feare, but that it will find credit with the vn­partiall Reader; & this it was: that in all her life she ne­uer The La. Mag ne­uer felt the rebel­lion of the flesh. felt the inuoluntary stings, or (as they call it) rebellion of the flesh, wherby her mind should be prouoked to lust. O singular chastity! O what kind of tast of the state of in­nocencie! O wōderfull arguments of Gods loue towards this woman! For with what purity did God beautify her soule, who so adorned her flesh? what treasure did he lay vp in so rich a chest? what pure Tabernacle of the holy Ghost was that soule, which inhabited so pure and chast a body? Neither yet is this all, that in this kind I can relate of this chast woman, but as S. Hierome sayth of himselfe writing the life of S. Paula: I am constrayned to omit many things, least I should exceed the beliefe of things, and by detractors be reputed a lyer. But what chast soule, thinke you, had she, who was freed from that interiour, and cruell enemie of her chastity? And if some time the enemie did suggest that vnto her soule, whereto her flesh did not allure her; if she were waking, she did instantly not only reiect it from her mind, but euen with spitting, or some exteriour si­gne, did declare how much she detested it. But if it happe­ned in her sleep, when reason had not power to giue her assistance, yet did her body so striue and labour to expell that filthy suggestion, that it awakened her mind, after which the victory was easy. O happy woman, whose very flesh (in which, euen in holy men, as the Prophet Psal; 7. speaketh) there is no soundnes, but their loynes are filled with illu­sions, and their reines do afflict them euen vnto night) was free from turpitude! S. Gregory esteemed it a rare degree of cha­stity, 6. Moral. c. 17. When Gods grace (sayth he) perfectly rewardeth some ab­stinent, not to feele the stings, or violence of the motions of the flesh. [Page 22] But this woman felt neither the violence of the motions, nor the motion it selfe. O what iewell of chastity did the earth loose! how much did heauē gaine by her death! But now let vs consider her patience.

Of her singular Patience.
CHAP. VIII.

OVr Sauiour affirmeth Patience to be so necessary to euery man, that he declareth, that therin we shall possesse our soules; as if without it, man were not maister Luc. 1. of him selfe, but were carryed hither and thither with the blind fury of affection: and this vertue in the La. Magda­len was not inferiour to the former. For it appeared ad­mirable Her con­tinuall patience. to all that knew her, not for a certaine time, nor in some company, nor vpon certaine occasions, but in all the whole course of her life. Nor did she carry her selfe patiently towards strangers only, or her equals, but euen towards her familiars, and her very seruants; from re­prehending of whome, if they had offended her, she accu­stomed She wold nor chide her ser­uants least she should be angry. to abstaine, least (as she often sayd) she should be moued to anger; being more carefull of her patience and tranquillity of mind, then of conscruing her temporall estate. For when any matter was committed deseruing reprehension, she accustomed to say to one: Goe, and chide such a one. And so farre was she from the vice of chiding, that she vnderstood not all the words which brauling A mild speach of the Lady. people accustome to vse; and therfore when not long be­fore her death, she heard one woman scolding with an­other, she openly sayd, that till that day she neuer heard such kind of speaches. She vsed to say: A good word is as easily spoken, as an euill. And [...] of her Her no­table pa­tience to­w [...] [...]. [...] [Page 23] not only [...] the [...] would [...] him [...] which Patience ouercom­meth ad­uersaries. her [...] him. It was doubtles an act of great patience, [...] [...]me­les an iniury of her seruant, but a greater to conceale it; but the greatest, in that she accustomed to induce her aduersa­ries by benefits to acknowledge their fault. And so much did this her Patience preuaile with two of her notorious aduersaries, that vpon their knees they asked her pardon People of all ages and con­ditions delighted in her cō ­uersation. of their offence. And this her patience was in her so much the more admirable, as she was by nature cholerike, and so much choler was found in her body after her death, that such as saw it, and knew her most meeke manner of liuing, were exceedingly amazed therat. So milde and sweet was her conuersation, that she allured people of all conditions to her company; and, which was to be admi­red, euery age, euery degree, and both sexes did seeme e­qually to be surprised with the loue of her company; and she did so accommodate her selfe to the ciuill comport­ments of euery one, that yet she admitted nothing vn­worthy of her selfe, or vnbeseeming her age and grauity. She was very vnwilling to offend any by word, gesture, or act; yea to take from others occasion of complayning, whatsoeuer seemed molestfull, she tooke it her selfe: and that which S. Augustine calleth a great gift of God in his She con­cealeth the dis­cord of others. Mother, that when one had secretly complayned vnto her of another: She would speake nothing of the one vnto the other, but what might tend to their reconciliation; this, in this woman was rare and perspicuous. And this kind of Pa­tience she exercised, not only when she had her perfect health, but euen in her grieuous sicknes, as shall appeare 9. Conf. c. 9. hereafter in our relation of her extreme infirmity, wherin not content with the torments which her disease did in­flict, she oftē inuocated almighty God with these words: Excellent patience. O Lord, more paine, and more patience.

Of her prompt Obedience.
CHAP. IX.

HOw obediēt the pious Lady was, may easily be col­lected by what we haue related of her singular hu­mility. For what would she disdaine to do, who had so humble a conceit of her selfe? what cōmandement would she refuse to performe, who vncommaunded executed the most bast kind of seruice? And how seriously may we thinke she obeyed her husband, who so diligently atten­ded her Lady? Out of doubt, she both piously obeyed her parents, for which almighty God blessed her with long life, and carefully submited her selfe to her husband, & sol­licitously fulfilled his will, wherupon she often sayd, that The say­ing of the La. of her obediēce. she left her will at S. Iames, which was the place of her Mariage. Besides she religiously submitted her selfe to her Confessor, wherof I could alleadge many examples, but I will be content with one. This humble and obe­dient Lady, by counsaile of her Phisician, and by admoni­tion of her Confessor in her last infirmity, and euen on Ash-wednesday (which she neuer did in her life before, and did piously abhorre it) was perswaded to eate flesh. She then preferred the request of her Confessor, before She fea­reth scan­dall. her owne will, and her most ancient and Religious cu­stome. Yet she did this with such caution & feare of scan­dall, that she commaunded her litle Grandchildren to be out of the way, least being vncapable of vnderstanding the cause wherfore she did eat flesh, they might afterward abuse her example. For which cause also, when a Prote­stant comming into her chamber, found her eating of flesh in the lent, she forgot not to aduertise him, that she did not eat flesh for gluttony, or in contempt of the pre­cept of the Church, but rather in obedience to the Church, which, by counsaile both of the spirituall and temporall Phisitians, giueth leaue to the infirme to eat flesh. Another [Page 25] tyme also, when to comfort and encourage her, it was told her, that she being so extreme weake, and eating flesh by the counsaile of both her Phisitians, might me­rit more by eating, then others by fasting, she requested to forbeare such kind of speach, least people ouer prone to giue way to gluttony, should contemne fasting. But when it was answered her, that not simple eating, but only eating of obediēce was preferred before fasting, for so much as in fasting, is abstinence from meate, but in eating of obedience, is abnegation of ones owne will, which people preferre before euē the most delicate meat; and that her example was not of simple eating, but of eating vpon obedience agaynst her owne will, wherin she was not lyke to haue too many imitatours; when (I say) she heard these words, she was silent, and shewed A most obedient saying. her selfe ready to be disposed of any way, often vsing these words: Doe with me what you please, for I will no longer haue my will. And certaynly such was her obedience all the tyme of her tedious infirmity, eyther in abstayning Notable obedience in her sic­knes. from that which she desired, or in accepting what was offered her, that it moued great admiration in all the wo­men that attēded her, who foūd no more difficulty in go­uerning her, then if they had attended an innocent child.

Of her Liberality towards others.
CHAP. X.

OMitting to speake of her liberality towards her bro­ther, and kinred, or of her hospitality towards No­ble persons, because this is accustomed to be attributed ra­ther to nature then to vertue, I will only speake of her li­berality towards others. She maintayned a great family, which consisted of eighty persons, and sometimes more, and almost all Catholikes. And these she maintayned not only for her honour (as is the manner of noble persons) Her great family. but also to support them in the Catholike Religion; and to these she allowed not only plentifull food, and com­petent [Page 26] wages, but (which is much more to be esteemed) afforded them the same benefit of the word of God, and the Sacraments, that her selfe enioyed; and as farre as she could secured them from vexations, & persecution of He­retikes. How ma­ny bene­fi [...]tes pro­ceed of maintay­ning a Ca­tholike family. Which kind of liberality is farre to be preferred before euen the distribution of very great summes of mo­ny in almes. For in this kind of almes, only mony is gi­uen, but in the pious liberality of this Lady, not on­ly mony is bestowed but meat, lodging, defence from persecution, the exercise of Religion, and the vse of the Sacraments and a visible Church or Company of Ca­tholikes is assembled, and conserued. She maintayned three Priests in her house, and gaue entertaynment to all that repayred to her, & very seldome dismissed any with­out the guift of an Angell; she redeemed two out of pri­son at her owne cost, and attempted the lyke for others, and gaue mony to other Catholikes both in common & particuler. Her almes distributed euery second day at her gates vnto the poore, were plentifull, and such, as some of the richer Protestants did calumniate that they augmē ­ted Her almes the number of beggers, and nourished their idlenes. When she desisted from her prayers, she accustomed to spend much tyme in sowing shirts or smockes for poore men and women, in which exercise she seemed to take much pleasure; sometimes also when she had leasure she visited the poore in their owne houses, and sent them, eyther medecines, or meat, or wood, or mony as she perceyued their need; and when she could not performe this her selfe, she sent her wayting women. Which kind of Charity she omitted not euen in her greatest, and last infirmity, but euen then enquired how it fared with the poore, and lamented their infirmities, when her selfe of all other needed most commiseration.

Of her Zeale and Constancy in supporting, and professing the Catholyke Fayth.
CHAP. XI.

HOw gratefull is is vnto God to professe his fayth, it appeareth by those words of Christ our Sauiour: Euery one that shall confesse me before men, I also will confesse him before my Father. And also on the contrary, how odious it Matth. 10. is vnto God to deny his fayth, is [...]uident by that which followeth: But he that shall deny me before men, I also will deny him before my Father which is in heauen. But how cōstant the La. Magdalen was, not only in keeping, but euen in pro­fessing the fayth of Christ, is euident, not by one act, but by the whole progresse of her life. For in those times, so turbulent, & so exceeding subiect to mutation vnder the Kings Henry the VIII. and Edward the six, and Q Eliza­beth, she remayned most constant in her fayth. And if in the beginning of the raigne of Q. Elizabeth she went sometimes to hereticall Churches, that may rather be im­puted to the defect of instruction, then want of zeale. For when she vnderstood it to be vnlawfull, she did most cō ­stātly abhorre it. And albeit that vnder Q. Elizabeth she en­dured no other persecution for matter of Religion, then that she was once accused to the pretended Bishop of Canterbury, her house twice scarched, and her Priest once taken, and imprisonned; yet was she prepared to suffer whatsoeuer it should please God, and did expose herselfe to the perill therof. For wheras she had two goodly Mansion houses, the one vpō the Thames side neere Lon­don-bridge, in which, from the first beginning of persecu­tion The house of the La. Magd. a common refuge for Priests. by Q. Elizabeth was a common retire for Priests com­ming in, and going out of England; and also a refuge for such as resided in London; wherin also one Priest had his residence, to minister the Sacraments to such Catholikes as resorted thither. In this house happened a matter wor­thy [Page 28] obseruation, which by the way I thought requisite to relate. When in the chappell of this house (which some­time appertayned to the Canons-Regular) some persons did dig in the place where the high Altar had formerly stood, vnder the same altar, or neere therunto they foūd a leaden coffin, & within it the body of a Religious man lapped in linnen, and bound hard with cords, there bu­ryed many yeares before, so sound, flexible, and of so liue­ly a colour, as it seemed aliue. The La. Magdalen, as her selfe told me, putting her fingers into his mouth, did a li­tle pull out his tongue, which was fleshly red and dry; & another with a knife cut a slash in the flesh, which with­in seemed very sound and fatty, no signe appearing ei­ther of Balme, or any other thing that could conserue that body from corruption. And of this matter many eye witnesses worthy of credit are yet liuing. In her other house, which, being distant foure miles from Hastings, of that famous field which there was fought betweene Wil­liam the Conquerour and King Herald, is called Battell, where herselfe with her family did for the most part re­side, she kepr three Priests, one of whome was M. Thomas More, great grandchild, and direct heire of that famous Syr Thomas More sometime Lord Chauncellor of England, & a most worthy Martyr; who seeking to participate rather of the vertues, then of the lands of his great grandfather, hauing resigned vnto his yonger brother a most ample patrimony, & being worthily adorned with learning & vertues, and made Priest, deuoted himselfe wholy to the conuersion of his Country; in which industry he hath laudably employed himselfe these 20. yeares. Another was M. Thomas Smith Bachelor of diuinity, a man no lesse venerable for his learning, worthy piety, and vnwearyed endeuour in helping his Country, then for his grauity of yeares. The third was my selfe. These did minister the word of God and the Sacraments, not only to the La. Magdalen, and her family, but to all Catholikes repayri [...] thither. She built a chappell in her house (which in suc [...] [Page 29] persecution was to be admired) and there placed a very faire Altar of stone, wherto she made an ascent with steps She built a chappell with a Quier in her house. and enclosed it with railes: and to haue euery thing con­formable, she built a Quire for singers, and set vp a pulpit for the Priests, which perhaps is not to be seene in all En­gland besides. Heere almost euery weeke was a sermon made, and on solemne feasts the sacrifice of the Masse was celebrated with singing, and musicall instruments, and sometimes also with Deacon & subdeacon. And such was the concourse and refort of Catholikes, that sometimes Solemne Masse ce­lebrated. there were 120 together, and 60. communicants at a time had the benefit of the B. Sacrament. And such was the nū ­ber of Catholikes resident in her house, and the multitude The re­sort of Catholi­kes. and note of such as repayred thither, that euen the hereti­kes, to the eternall glory of the name of the La. Magda­len, gaue it the title of Litle Rome. O happy woman, and true mayntainer of the Romaine fayth, who, where the very name of Rome is to most so odious, that they vse all The house of the La. Mag. cal­led litle Rome. their industry and vtmost endeuour to extinguish it; there, she did not only preserue the memory ther of, but made it so famous, as she deserued to haue the title therof giuen to her house. Let others nominate their houses by what ti­tles they please, this only title of Litle Rome, giuen by Heretikes vnto thy house, O Honorable Magdalen, by reason of the Romane fayth there professed, appeareth more famous, and more illustrious then all other titles! Whiles she was present either at Masse or Sermon, she did not cōceale herselfe for feare to be betrayed by some false brother, as it sometimes happeneth in England, but she did serue God publikely in the sight of all, that by her example she might encourage all; and when she walked abroad, by her Beads, or Crosse which she vsed to weare about her neck, she professed herselfe to be a Catholike, euen to whatsoeuer Hereticall beholders; and so manifest was her religion, that scarce any in England had heard [...]r name, who knew her not also to be a Catholike. She [...]dered none from hearing Masse in her house, if any [Page 30] Catholike had but the least knowledge of them, vsing these words: Let these poore people come, they desire comfort as much as we. And that which to others did strike a feare of trobles, was vnto her occasion of great ioy: to wit, when on festiuall dayes, she saw a great number of Catholiks in her Chappell, in so much as she would sometimes shed She offe­reth leaue to print Catholike books in her house. teares for ioy, and would thanke God, that by her mea­nes so many pious soules receiued spirituall consolation. Yea so far streched the fortitude of this blessed woman, in propagating the Catholike fayth, that she twice offered me leaue to set vp a Presse to print Catholike bookes in her house; which had bin done but that it was most diffi­cult, and almost impossible in such an ample family to to conceale such a matter from Heretikes. This her coura­gious Constancy bred her great Enuie, in her Hereticall neighbours: wherwith some of them being moued, pre­sented her name, and the names of almost all her family so the Iudges in publike assises, for not obseruing the law of comming to Church euery month. By which law it is commanded, that whatsoeuer person of the age of 16. yea­res shall abstaine, for a month, from the Protestant Chur­ches, shalbe confined within the compasse of fiue miles of his house, and shall pay, at the choyce of the King, either 20.•• euery month, or two thirds of his lands & tenemēts, with the losse of all his goods: & if he keep any Catho­like The La. Mag. first of all the Nobility in Englād accused v­pon the statute of going to hereticall Churches seruāt, he shall pay besides for each one, 10.•• euery month, Vpon which law the La. Magdalen was the first of the Nobility, that euer in England was accused in pu­blike iudgment. But she was so far frō being terrified with this most hard proceeding, or dismissing of any of her ser­uants, that, hauing intelligence therof, with a pleasing Countenance she sayd: If the King will haue two thirds of mine estate, I will ioyfully liue with the rest, and I thank God, who hath permitted me to enjoy it hitherto, and now permitteth that it be taken from me, for profession of his fayth. When there was danger of searching her house, she was more sollicitous of her Priests then of herselfe, and when in the time of that [Page 31] notorious powder-treasō, she was terrifyed with extreme Her man­ly cou­rage in present perill. and imminent dangers, that she should not be able to keep a Priest in her house, she did not yet giue way ther­vnto, but dismissing the aduertiser, with a manly courage and full of confidence in God, she sayd to her Confessor: Let vs say the litanies, and commit this matter to God. And as well at other times often, as when she lay in her extreme infir­mity, She redu­ceth two of her neerest kinred vn­to the Church. she strictly commaunded her children, encouraged her seruants, and importunatly exhorted all persons, to neglect the wealth of the world, constantly to retaine the Catholike fayth, and to repose their hopes in God. At which time Almighty God gaue vnto her this consola­tion, that by her example and admonitions she reduced two of her neerest kinred into the lap of the church. And certainly it is to be much attributed to her Piety, that wheras she left liuing aboue thirty of her children, Ne­phewes She de­sireth her children might suf­fer death for the Catholike fayth. and Neeces, she left them all constant professors of the Catholike fayth. And albeit she most tenderly affe­cted her children; yet she so much preferred fayth before nature, that she would often say, she should exceedingly reioyce to see any of them to dye for the Catholike fayth. Neither do I doubt, but if Almighty God had tryed her, we should haue seene in her the courage of the Mother of the Machabees.

Of her notable Piety towards God.
CHAP. XII.

THe nurse of all Vertue is piety & deuotion towards God, which in the Lady Magdalen was very re­markeable. For she was euery day present at the morning and euening seruice which by her Priests was daily sayd The de­uotion of the La. Mag. vnto the Masse. in her chappell. For the most part, she did euery day heare three Masses, & more would willingly haue heard, if she might: and such was her affection to this diuine sa­crifice, that when vpon any occasion in the winter it was [Page 32] sayd before day, she in that cold and vnseasonable time, could not contayne herselfe in her bed, but rising, endu­red not to be absent from that heauenly Sacrifice. In her priuate deuotions, she did euery day say three offices, Her daily priuate prayers. that is, of the B. Virgin, of the Holy Ghost, and of the Holy Crosse; wherto she added at least three Rosaries, the Iesus Psalter, the 50. prayers of S. Brigit, which because they beginne with O, are commonly called her 15. Oes, and the common Litanyes; and finally sometymes the office of the dead. Which prayers, when in her infirmity she could not say her selfe, she procured to be sayd by o­thers, distributing to euery one a part. And that I may What time she spent in prayer. comprehend much in few words, she spent a very great part of the day, and much of the night in prayer. For ri­sing early in the morning, she for the most part emploied the rest of the tyme, euen till the houre of dinner in pray­er, and sometymes she would retyre her selfe alone after dinner into the chappell to pray; as also before supper she spent an houre, or often two houres in prayer; and be­fore she went to bed she omitted not the Litanyes, and the examen of her conscience. And I haue some tymes obser­ued that on Christmas Eue at night, from an houre before midnight till a litle before dinner, she neuer went out of the Chappell but only a little to attire herselfe; but was al that tyme watchfully employed in prayers, and deuout actions. She was often found in her chamber prostrate on the ground in prayer, albeyt she accustomed, when the heat of deuotiō did moue her, to shut the dores. In the night also, when others tooke their sleepe, she was heard of her women to say her Beads, which to that end did alwayes hang at her beds syde. And as S. Hierome writeth of S. Lea, She instructed her family more by example then by word, & with her piety induced all to deuotion. And although Epist. 24. she was by priuiledge of her age exempted from fasting, yet did she piously obserue all the fasts of the Lent, the She did often fast. Ember dayes, and whatsoeuer other, eyther commaun­ded by the Church, or introduced by the pious custome [Page 33] of the Country, as are the fasts of Fridayes, and some o­thers: to all which, of her owne deuotiō she added some wednesdayes. O right pious woman, and imitating that holy widdow, which did not depart from the Temple, seruing Luc. 1. God day and night, in fasting and prayer! And she was so mo­ued with loue vnto prayer and deuotion, that the care of worldly estate was tedious vnto her, which she would willingly haue imposed vpon some other, & did somety­mes cōferre with me of that matter, that she might who­ly deuote her self vnto God, but that there were some im­pediments which her selfe could not remoue. She shewed a respectiue reuerence to her Priests, for the honour of Her exce­ding re­uerence to her Priests. God, and did most humbly on her knees, morning and euening aske their benediction, which she did also ob­serue towards other Priests at their comming & going. Which honour exhibited to our Priests from the begin­ning of the English Church, as testifyeth S. Bede in the third booke of his History, and 26. Chap. but long tyme intermitted, their frequent deathes for the Catholyke fayth hath reduced; for within 30. yeares, aboue 120. se­cular Priests haue bin crowned with Martyrdome in En­gland. Euery Sunday, and festiuall day besides, she did purge her sinnes by holy Confession; which she perfor­med She fre­quently confessed & with great con­trition. with great preparation of mynd, and discussion of her conscience. She opened her sinnes with exceeding sincerity, and bewayled them with such abundance of teares, that whosoeuer had seene thē, would haue thoght her another sinfull Magdalen, but the hearer of her sinnes thought of the innocency of S. Iohn going into the wil­dernes, least he should maculate his life with the least idle word. For what she confessed were sometimes so small, that I thought it necessary, to aduise her to accuse herselfe of some former sinnes, fearing least otherwise there might want matter of absolution. And yet as I sayd, she did so bitterly lament them, that she forced me to teares; for which cause I desired to heare her confession before I confessed my owne sinnes. For in her, as S. Hierome wri­teth. [Page 32] [...] [Page 33] [...] [Page 35] of S. Paula, Thou wouldest beleiue to be fountaines of teares, the so bewailed sleight sinnes, as thou wouldest think her to be guilty In vita Paulae. of grieuous crimes. Euery yeare, at least once, whiles I had care of her, she made a generall confession of all her sin­nes, not vpō any scruple, but that she might obtaine that, which the Prophet, hauing alredy obtained pardon of his sinne, requested when he sayd: Wash me more from my ini­quity, Psal. 50. and clenfe me from my sinne; and with all, that she might the more humble her selfe, and haue her sinnes alwayes before her eyes. And albeit she was very sollicitous in dis­cussing her conscience; yet she did frequently request me, that if I perceiued any vice in her conuersation, I should not omit to admonish her therof. And she was so seuere towards her selfe, that she would desire more pennance then was enioyned her, and would say, that she neuer She desi­red more pennance then was enioyned her. met with a Confessor that would enioyne her sufficient satisfaction. And for that reason perhaps, for some Mon­thes before her last sicknes, she accustomed euery weeke after her confession to giue me ten shillings, to distribute in almes, so to supply that which to her seemed wanting in the imposition of her pennance. Concerning which Mony, this happened worthy of obseruation, that when she was sick, & could not according to that custome giue An ad­mirable thing con­cerning the mony she gaue for satis­faction. me euery weeke that certaine summe, she commaunded one of her seruants, to deliuer me such mony as he had of hers, which mony came not to a farthing more, nor lesse then ten shillings, for euery week she liued. This then was the piety of this worthy woman in confessing frequent­ly, in confessing with great sincerity, contrition, and de­sire of satisfying God for her sins; wherto was answer­able her like deuotion towards the most B. Sacrament of Her piety towards the Sacra­ment of the Eu­charist. the Eucharist. For when in this manner she had purged her soule from sinne, she came with an hungry desire to receiue the bread of life, and with what externall reue­rence, and humiliation of body, she both came to the sa­cred Altar of Christ, and returned thence, with what tea­res in her eyes, and with what reuerence in her counte­nance [Page 34] she receiued that sacred banquet; they well percea­ued who beheld her. But with what in teriour piety, and with what enflamed charity towards God, she entertay­ned her Sauiour in her heart, he only saw, who seeth the secrets of harts.

Of the admirable Prouidence of God, towards the La. Magdalen.
CHAP. XIII.

AS this holy woman had a peculiar care to serue & please God, so it appeareth that correspondently he had a particuler prouidence, and care ouer her, wherof I will alleadge a few examples. Whiles she was a marryed woman she fell into an extreme, and continuall griefe & affliction of mind, vpon the ruine of her family procured (as she sometimes sayd) by him in whome she had placed the hope of best reliefe therof; which melancholy affli­ction being such as exceeded the art of all Phisitians, and the counsaile and comfort of her friends, almighty God at length compassionating his seruant, vouchsafed to cure her by another meanes. For in a dreame (as she particuler­ly God cu­reth her tedious affliction. related vnto me) it was clearly and manifestly demon­strated vnto her, what she should do to be freed of her in­ward griefe. Which when she had performed, (it being a very pious action) she was instātly cured of that affliction of mind, which no humane art, medicine, or counsaile could preuaile in. Of this triall, as she often confessed, she obtayned a better knowledge of her selfe, and more bene­fit thē of any other thing; in so much that she confidently affirmed, that by her owne experience, she had learned that God worketh all things for our good. And by this meanes almighty God did meruailously free her from spi­rituall desolations, & did conuert them to her aduantage and consolation; neither did he lesse protect her from her corporall enemies. For wheras some few years before her [Page 36] death certaine Protestāts, in hatred of her Religiō, sought the destruction of her, and all her family, yet did they not preuaile in their malice. For the principall of them Syr The iud­gement of God vpon the heretikes that soght the ruine of the La. Mag. Tho. May, being a Knight and Iustice of peace, and hauing giuen commaundment for apprehending the seruants of the La. Magdalen, was himselfe a litle after ignominiously conuented before publike authority, and cast into prison for debt, where he lay long, and at the setting forth of this worke, was shamefully dismissed of the Commission of the Peace. But the author & firebrand of all euils was Nicholas Cobbe, who a litle after he began to seeke the ruine of the La. Magdalen, had a knife thrust into his belly by his owne wife; & being for some hainous fact apprehen­ded by officers, and euen by heretikes pursued to punish­ment, did at length by letters beg pardon of the La. Mag­dalen; and what affliction yet expecteth him, almighty God knoweth. The third inueterate Heretike called N. Benet, who perceyuing that nothing, of what himselfe and his Confederates had conspired agaynst the de­uout Lady, tooke effect, on a market-day held at Battell, falling on this knees before the gate-house of the Viscoun­tesse, did vomit out his bitter imprecation, praying God to confound her, and all her family. But the dart which the impious fellow cast against heauen, did soone fall v­pon his owne head. For the third day after going early in the morning out of his house, he drowned himselfe in a pit at the townes end, towards London: Whereupon be­ing taken vp by Protestants, & by their iudgement foūd guilty of his owne death, he was buryed like a dog in the high way. At another time also when (as before is sayd) Note the speedy iudgemēt of God. she was called in question for not going to hereticall ser­uice, she was so farre from incurring any detriment ther­by, as that it wrought her more security then before. For the Kings Councell by their publike letters addressed to the Attorny Generall dated the 19. of Aprill 1607. com­maunded that no sentence should proceed agaynst her. Which letters because they testify both the true allegiance [Page 37] of the Lady Magdalen to the King in temporalityes, and also that her molestation was meerly for Religion, I will here setdowne part of them, out of the originall which is The La. Mag. que­stioned for reli­gion, is otherwise faythfull to her Prince. in my custody. For so much (say they) as the Lady Montague the wife of Antony Viscount Montague deceased, is lately called in question for default of conformity in Religion according to the lawes of this Kingdome; in regard that she is a Noble-woman, aged, and by reason of her fidelity, in the tyme of Q. Elizabeth, was neuer cal­led in question, it pleaseth the Kings Maiesty that in her old yeares she be free from molestation. These therfore, shalbe to require you, that you forthwith doe procure the accusation which is presented a­gainst her in the County of Sussex or else where, to be remoued by writ of Certiorari, into his Maiesties Court of the Kings bench, & therby you shall haue power to stay all processe against her person, groun­ded vpon that presentment, or whatsoeuer other, till we shallbe fur­ther certifyed. And in the same manner, when vnder pre­tence of search for the powder-traytors, Protestants did often search her house, she obtayned letters from the Kings Councell dated the 5. of Aprill 1606. And subscri­bed by ten of the same Councell, that none besides fower by her self nominated, should search her house. By which The La. Mag. ex­posing herselfe to perill for reli­gion be­came more free from dan­ger. letters she obtayned, that herselfe, whose house especially was alwayes free to all Catholikes, & who, in admitting Catholikes to the Sacraments, exposed herselfe to dan­ger more then all others, proued thence forward to be more free from perill then any else. Whiles she lay in Lō ­don in the yeare 1606. a Protestant seeing one goe into her house, whome he suspected (but falsely) to be one of those whome the King had proclaymed guilty of the powder-treason, declared the same to the Kings Coun­cell, who instantly authorized Officers that most watch­fully beset both hers, and the adioyning houses, from Wednesday at two of the clocke in the morning, till Sa­turday noone following, and in that tyme very diligent­ly searched hers, but especially her neighbours houses. The Lady Magdalens Priest was then absent, who was gone towards Battell, she intending immediately to fol­low [Page 39] him; but vnderstanding that two of her family were fallen grieuously sick, instantly taking horse, returned to London, the same day that the search began. But almigh­ty Her Priest twice euē miracu­lously es­caped the handes of heretikes. God so protected the Lady Magdalen, that at the very instant when the Priest, suspecting no danger, entred in­to the house, the Watchmen for a quarter of an hower were gone aside. And euen two dayes after when it was esteemed most dangerous for him to remayne there any longer, he went againe out of the house in the middest of the watch, not one of them apprehending him, albeit amongst them there were three that knew him well, to be a Priest, and did speake of him to each other, and with their fingers pointed at him. Not many monthes after the same Priest going from the house of the Viscountesse at Battell, was discouered to the aforesayd impious Cobbe, & Againe an other time the Priest being scarce out of sight, Cobbe hauing a vehe­ment malicious desire to apprehend him, ran euery way to hyre a horse to pursue him; but Almighty God did so preserue the Lady Magdalen, that he permitted not any Protestant, though her grieuous enemyes, to lend Cobbe a horse, nor suffered him to follow the Priest a foote, or by out-cry (as is the manner in England) to rayse the people to pursue him; wheras the Priest, not suspecting any danger, walked on a foote pace, expecting one that was to accompany him, might easily haue byn apprehen­ded. Both which escapes the Priest himselfe ascribed to the piety of this Lady whome God protected, least her Priest being taken, her lyfe had byn brought in question for entertayning him. With the rehearsall of one admira­ble thing which happened in her house, I will end the discourse of these things. There stood vpright agaynst a An admi­rable thing of an Al­tar-stone. wall a great marble stone, which in Catholike tymes had byn an Altar-stone for the seruice of almighty God; and a womā of curiosity desirous to see that side therof which rested agaynst the wall, so drew the stone towards her, as it fell vpon her. And albeit the stone was of that huge greatnes and weight, as eight men could hardly with [Page 38] whatsoeuer leauers remoue it from one place to another, and nothing lay betweene it and the woman that might saue her from the fall of it, yet was it so taken vp without the least hurt of the woman, as if a bed of fethers, not so huge a stone, had fallen vpon her. Whereupon the stone was by commandement of the Lady Magdalen, remoued into the Chappell, consecrated agayne to diuine seruice, and applyed to his former vse. But now, though with griefe, let vs come to declare her death. For who (as S. Hierome writeth of S. Paula) can with vnwatered eyes relate the death of the Lady Magdalen?

Of her happy Passage vnto God.
CHAP. XIIII.

VVHen she had piously and blessedly liued com­plete 70. yeares, & had seene her third genera­tion, and aboue thirty persons of her issue, and all by the grace of God Professors of the Catholike fayth, the next day after her birth-day, to wit, the 21. of Ianuary of the yeare 1608. at which tyme there was such an extreme frost An extre­me frost in England. in England, that the Riuer Thames being frozen, men, horses, and carts passed ouer vpon the ice, yea meat being rosted theron, people did banquet there, as vpon the firme land; at such tyme (I say) as the frost gaue such a gene­rall The Lady Magd. falleth in­to a pal­sy. horrour, the Lady Magdalen fell into a Palsy, wher­by she lost the motion of the right side of her body, and much wanted the vse of her tongue. Within two dayes, the most prudent Lady perceiued her disease to be mor­tall, neither yet did she desire any medicine, or sent for How she prepared for death. any Phisician, but calling for her Cōfessor, desired to par­ticipate of all the sacraments of Christ, which in such case are requisite. Which hauing with exceeding deuotion & tranquillity of mind receiued, & deliuering her last will and testament to one, she prepared herselfe for death, re­questing that thence forward she might be free from all molestation of temporall affaires. But almighty God, for [Page 40] the greater glory of his name, for her merit, and our edifi­cation, did prolong her infirmity for eleuen whole wee­kes, to wit, till the eight of Aprill. In which time it can­not Her ad­mirable meeknes and pa­tience. be vttered, what admirable patience she shewed, both in words and deeds, neuer wayward, or tedious, but al­wayes thankefull, euen to the meanest of her seruants, when they had done any thing about her; and oftentimes euen in her extremest torments, praying God to increase both her paine and patience. Her accustomed prayers (as before I sayd) she distributed amongst her friends. She heard Masse euery day, at which time she would be lifted vp in her bed, which she omitted not, euen the last day of her life. There did hang at her beds feete a siluer Crosse Her de­uotion in her sicknes. guilded, of Christ crucified, which was sometimes her Grandmothers, the famous Countesse of Shrewsbury; to it she did very frequently lift her eyes, and sometimes (as she could) her hands, without vttering a word, but with great signes of deuotion: sometimes she would double those petitions of the Pater noster: Fiat voluntas tua sicut in cae­lo & in terra. Dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut & nos dimit [...]imus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem. At other ti­mes she prayed with vs, or gaue eare to the reading of the Passion of Christ, or some pious booke, and now & then would admonish vs to put her in mind of heauen, & hea­uenly things. Sometimes she enquired the estate of other sick persons; & as occasion was presented, she did exhort Catholikes to constancy in their fayth; and sometimes al­so she spake to Heretikes of imbracing the Catholike fayth. But how much at that time she was enflamed with the loue of God, euen by this it may appeare, that once she exceedingly loathing a certaine potion, when after many importunate requests one had desired her to take the same for his loue, who for her dranke vinegar & gall, presently without giuing any answere, she tooke the cup and dranke it all vp; so sodenly did the memory of the Passion of Christ make that seeme sweet, which before was very loathsome vnto her. She so little feared death, [Page 41] that from the beginning of her sicknes, to vs who much desired her life, she seemed too much to desire her death; & therfore when we did propose vnto her the examples of She rather wisheth then fea­reth death S. Paul, S. Martin, and others, who for the consolation of their friends were cōtent to liue, she would humbly ans­were: The will of God be done. And whē once, she falling in­to a sound, her seruant cryed out in lamentation; as soone as she returned to her selfe, she reprehended her, saying: Weep not for me, but weep for thy sinnes, and I command thee that thou pray not for my life. O singular confidence of a pure con­science! O contempt of this life, and desire of the future! After this patient and pious manner did the La. Magdalen spend that tedious time of her grieuous infirmity, wherin certayne things were obserued, which perhaps may seeme speciall markes of her excellent piety towards God, and The body of the La­dy Magd. breathed a sweet o­dour. of his diuine fauour towards her. For albeyt there was nothing about her, that could produce any sweet odour, yea euery day oyntment applyed to her necke and arme for cure of the Palsy, which gaue a loathsome smell, yet one day her body seemed to yield a pleasing sauour, which not only Catholikes, but euen some Protestants which then by accident were present, did feele, and ad­miring, demaunded whence that sweet odour was. To others it seemed another kind of sauour, yet most de­licious and beyond all common sauours. To me it see­med much like sweet balme, so that reflecting on the odour of vertue which she left behind her both to Catho­likes and Protestants, I reputed that saying of Ecclesiasti­cus to be fulfilled in her: Sicut balsamum aromatizans odorem dedi. Another tyme also of her sicknes, a certayne very A most delicious sa­uour came forth of the place where he accusto­med to pray. graue & pious man kneeling to pray without the Chap­pell, but behind the place wherin she accustomed to pray did fiue or six tymes feele a certaine breathing of the most delicious sauour that euer he felt in his lyfe, to come forth of the Chappell; which sauour he likened to the gumme of the balme-tree, yet far exceeding all earthly odour, and filled him with exceeding admiration and pleasure. [Page 42] But what doe we admire so sweet a sauour to proceed frō the place where the Lady Magdalen accustomed to pray, when she (as the Apostle sayth) Was a sweet odour of Christ in euery place? Another thing which to me seemeth wor­thy of consideration, was, that wheras the Phisitian three or foure dayes before her death, gaue vs hope, either of recouering her health, or at least of prolonging her life, neither indeed did there appeare to vs any signe of immi­nent death; neuerthelesse the seauenth of Aprill, which was the day before her death, she requested me to intreat my brethen the other Priests (for we were then fiue) that we would all that day say masse for her in honour of the Blessed Virgin: and I demaunding of her, to what end The ad­mirable perfection of the La. Magd. she desired those masses to be celebrated; That (sayd she) I may haue no will but the will of God, and that his most sacred will may be fulfilled in me, either in life, or death. O admirable perfe­ction of this woman, prepared either to liue or dye, as it should please God, and of herselfe desirous of neither, but only of the fulfilling of his diuine pleasure! And behold, wheras before this time (as is sayd) we saw no signes of imminent death, not long after the celebration of the Masses, the very pangs of death did assault her, neyther did they euer leaue her, till they bereaued her of this mor­tall life. And albeit those pangs were very violent and continuall from Thursday three of the clocke in the after Death speedily ensued af­ter she said she was prepared for lyfe or death. noone, till almost midnight of the day following, which was the eight of Aprill, when she gaue vp her Ghost; yet did she perseuere with the same admirable patience and tranquillity of mind. In so much that the Friday mor­ning, being asked how she had passed the precedēt night, she answered: The best of all that euer I passed. For the most prudent woman perceyued death to draw on, and that night to open vnto her a day which was neuer to haue end. Whiles her senses continued, she prayed with vs, & in one hand she held a Crosse till her forces fayled; in the other a hallowed light, which she held so fast euen af­ter her death, that without force it could not be wrested [Page 43] frō her. Her last words which could be vnderstood, were She pea­ceably de­parteth. those of our Sauiour: Into thy hands (O Lord) I commend my spirit; which without any resistāce or reluctation she pea­ceably yielded vp, a litle before midnight: at which time, as the Scripture sayth, There was a clamour made, Behold the Matt. 25. bridegrome commeth, go ye forth to meet him: she with the holy women, within the Octaues of our Lords Resurrection, arose out of this valley of teares, & her lampe being pre­pared, entred, as we hope, with the Bridegrome to the Mariage. Her bowels were buryed at Battell where she dyed, in the monument of her husbands Father, and her body honorably caryed to Midhurst, and there layd in the Sepulcher of her husband.

Of the shape of her Body, and Mind.
CHAP. XV.

OF Stature she was very tall, so that (as Saul amongst men) she among women of middle stature appeared from the shoulders vpward, & yet very vpright; neither did she stoop in the least manner euen till her death, her very body being erected by her vpright mind. She was fat and grosse in body; her head was round, & in regard of the greatnes of her body seemed litle; her haire in her youth was faire and enclining to yellow, her face beau­ttfull and long, her forehead flat, her eyes sharpe, & of the colour of an hasell-nut; and her sight so continued, as in her last dayes, she could discerne a tower fifteene miles of, and with spectacles could cut euen the finest linnen cloth by a threed: and in the same manner had she the vse of all the residue of her senses. Her nose was straight and sharp, and somewhat short, and her chinne great; her coū ­tenance very graue and venerable, and her gate vpright, sober, and full of Maiesty. And this was the externall forme of her body. But concerning her mind, she was of a sharp wit, and of a notable memory, which yet she sayd was decayed by her foresayd long and tedious affliction. [Page 44] She was also of a profound iudgment, and of a stout and manly courage, so that of her may be sayd, that which is written of S. Thomas of Canterbury, viz: She was humble, but A [...]d Su­ [...]ium tom. [...]. amongst the humble, for among the potent and proud, she seemed more lofty, and potent. And thus far, to my ability, I haue des­cribed the life of this pious woman: now let vs heare other mens opinions of her.

Other Mens Iudgements of her.
CHAP. XVI.

FIrst, the most Reuerend Arch-Priest of England M. The iudg­ment of the Arch-Priest and other Priests of England. George Birckhed in his letters directed to me, lamented her death, as it were (said he) of a great Mother in Israel; & the Priests in Englād did euery where extoll her as the wor­thy Patronesse of the holy fayth, and the singular orna­ment of the Catholike religion in England. A Catholike man of worthy piety, and a man of good iudgement, al­beit he formerly had knowne her well, yet visiting her in her sicknes, and obseruing her singular patience and pie­ty, sayd, he would not for any mony haue missed the sight Also of a Catholike Noblemā. of such her excellent vertue. But aboue all, the most cleare and euident testimony of the vertues of the La. Magdalen may be gathered out of the letters of the present most ho­norable Viscount Montague, whose testimony is the more estimable, in that she was the step-mother of his Fa­ther, and himselfe (as all that know him can witnes) most free from flattery, and a most constant Professour of the Catholike fayth, for which he hath often bin impriso­ned, Of the right ho­nourable the Vis­count Mō ­tague. and at the setting forth hereof was prisoner in his owne house. This then so worthy a man, the yeare be­fore the death of the La. Magdalen, sending his daughters to visit her, in this manner wrote vnto her: Most louing La. and Grandmother, as in my former letters I mentioned, I now in most humble and dutifull manner send these my children vnto your most Honourable Ladiship, most earnestly desiring, that euery one [Page 45] of them in their degree may so carry themselues towards your Ladi­ship, that in some part they may expresse that care which I haue al­wayes had, to plant in them so much loue, and such dutifull respect The La. Mag. pre­serued the life of the Viscount & of this Father. towards your most Noble and worthy person, as both from them and me, is iustly due vnto her, by whose singular care, and tender affection, I do not only belieue (as I haue partly heard and partly expe­rienced) that my worthy Fathers life, and mine, as by the most prin­cipall earthly instrument, were preserued; but also do acknowledge so many worthy offices both in matter of temporalities, and in other things of greater moment, in reconciling and conseruing (whensoeuer occasion was offered) the most wished fauour of my right Noble She recō ­cileth and conser­ueth the fauour of his Grād­father to­wards him. Grandfather towards me; so that scarce any La. that was Mother of so many children, nor any of lesse vertue, euer performed the like. Which certainly enforceth me exceedingly to honour and admire your person. In other letters also written in the yeare 1606. when he was requested by the La. Magdalen, to vouchsafe to be Executour of her Will & Testament, he answered, that although he did neither desire, nor would willingly see the mournfull day of the death of the La. Viscountesse; yet if almighty God should so dispose, Such fidelity (sayd he) as I owe vnto my owne hart, the same I promise to performe towards your honorable Ladiship. Which he did afterwards most abū ­dantly performe in deeds. For he did not only exactly execute her testament, but did giue mourning apparell to all his family, wherof the number was great, distributed a good summe of mony for her soule, maintayned the The Vis­count promised and perfor­med. whole family of the La. Magdalen for three monthes after her death, and diuers her principall seruans he entertai­ned into his owne seruice, and some of them he rewarded with stipends for their seruice done vnto her; & such was the loue betweene him and the Viscountesse, as they may be an example to all step-Mothers, and Sonnes-in-law. The opi­nion of Q. Mary And this was the worthy testimony both in words and deeds of this Viscount, touching the Vertues of the La. Magdalen. What esteeme Queene Mary of famous and worthy memory had of her, is formerly alledged. From whose iudgement in this matter (though almost in all o­ther [Page 46] goodnes she was far different) her sister Q. Elizab. did not disagree. For thus the La. Scudamore, a Lady of her bed-chamber, in her name wrote to the La. Magdalen: The Also of Q Eliza­beth. Queene commaunded me to signify to your La. that she is perswaded she fareth much the better for your prayers, and therefore desireth you, euer hereafter to be mindfull of her in your prayers. What esteeme the Kings Councell had of her, appeareth by the forerecited letters. And the worst that in their iudgement any Protestants, though her peeuish enemies, sayd of her after her death, was that which doubtles was her greatest honour, to wit, that she was an earnest Papist. I will con­clude these testimonies with the iudgement of a certaine worthy Catholike, who albeit in the life of the La. Mag­dalen The iudg­ment of a worthy Catholike he seemed litle to fauour her, yet she being dead he doubted not to say, That she left nor her like in all England. And truly of her we may vse those words of S. Augustine touching his Mother S. Monica: Whosoeuer of thy seruants (O God) did know her, did in her much praise, honour, and loue thee, because they perceiued thy presence in her hart, the fruits of her holy conuersation testifying the same. She was the wife of one husband, Confess. l. [...]. c. 9. sherendred mutuall affection to her parents, she gouerned her house piously, she had her reputation in good workes, she gaue her children good education; as often as she saw them stray from thee, so often did she beare them anew. And all which things to be most true in this pious woman, all that knew her, will testifie with me.

THE CONCLVSION.

BVt now Magdalens box is broken, and the house is filled with the odour of her oyntment; now the lan­terne of Gedeon is broken, and the light appeareth which darkeneth the sight of the Madianites; now the body of our Magdalen is dissolued, and her most rare and fragrant vertues dilate themselues more clearly, and more abun­dantly. England may lament, that it hath lost such a pil­lar of Fayth, so worthy an ornament of Religion, such a rare example of vertues. Nay it may rather reioyce, that [Page 47] once it had, or rather hath such a one. And certainly the La. Magdalen may reioyce, that she hath found the thing so long, and so much desired, that hauing left the world, she is more absolutely ioyned to almighty God. A happy The La. Mag. hap­py tou­ching the world. woman (no doubt) touching the world; in that she was of noble birth, married to a man of worthy fame and ho­nour, for a long time enoyed wealth, honour, prosperous health and fortune, long life & worthy issue. Happy tou­ching her body; to whome God had giuen a sound, beau­tifull, and healthfull a body. Happy touching her soule, Touching her body. being endued with a most piercing wit, an excellent me­mory, a profound iudgment, a stout and manly courage. But most happy towards God, who had giuen her so much grace, as to make vse of her birth, honour, mariage, Touching her soule. wealth, beauty, issue, and finally of all the guifts & graces of her body and soule, to the glory of God, & her eternall felicity. If then (as the scripture testifyeth) they are Bles­sed Most hap­py to­wards God. who dye in our Lord; how blessed shall we esteeme this woman, who not only dyed, but also liued in our Lord; and not for a short tyme, but all her lyfe; and that not indifferently, but most piously and religiously; and that in the land of Hus, where is the houre and power of darkenes, where piety is sharply impugned, and freedome giuen to vice. Rest now therfore, O Magdalen, from thy labours, from thy frequent fastes, and dayly deuotions, and from thy other exercises of piety; rest from the impla­cable The La. Magd. dieth the day be­fore the translatiō of S. Mo­nica. hatred, curses, accusations, and inquisitions of He­retikes: For thy workes of mercy, piety, chastity, hu­mility, fayth, hope, and charity do follow thee. But be­cause this pious widdow was translated (as I hope) to a better lyfe, the day before the translation of that most ho­ly widdow S. Monica, to whome she may be resembled, I will conclude my writing of her, with the same wordes which S. Augustin concluded his, of his Mother S. Monica: Confess. l. 9. c. 11 which is thus: Albeyt being reuiued in Christ, her flesh not yet dissolued, she liued so, as thy name (O God) may be praysed in her fayth and conuersation, yet dare I not say, that from the tyme thou [Page 48] diddest reg [...] are her by baptisme, no word proceeded from her mouth, against thy precept, and woe to the laudable lyfe of men, if, thy mercy remoued, thou discusse the same. Therfore, O God of my hart, forge [...]g a litle her good actes, for which I ioyfully giue that thankes, I no [...] implore thee for the sinnes of my (Lady;) heare me by the cure of our wounds, which hung on the Crosse, and sitting at thy right hand mediateth for vs. She desired memory should be made of her at thy Altar, where she assisted without one dayes in­termission, where she knew that holy oblation to be dispenced wher­by the debt wherto we were subiect was cancelled, to which Sacra­ment of our redemption thy handmayd eyed her soule by the bond of fayth. And inspire. O my Lord God, inspire thy seruants my bre­thren, thy children my maysters, that as often as they shall read this, they be mindfull at thy Altar, of (the Lady Magdalen) thy ser­uant, with (Antony) sometyme her husband. Amen.

Of the day, place of birth, death, and buryall of the La. MAGDALEN Viscountesse MONTAGVE.

The twentith day of Ianuary, first vitall breath her gaue;
The eight of Aprill stopt it quite, & brought her to her graue:
Naward life did first affoard, which Battell tooke away;
And Midhurst yeldeth to her Corps rest, till the Iudgmēt day.
FINIS.
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