IN childrē of former ages, it hath bene thought so behofull a point of dewty to theire parents, in pre­sence by seruiceable offices, in ab­sence by other affectuall significa­ [...]ions, to yeld proofe of their thank­full mindes, that neither any child could omitte it, without touch of [Page 2]vngratfulnes, nor the parents for­beare it without iust displeasure. But now we are falne into such ca­lamitye of times, and the violence of heresy hath so crossed the course, both of vertew & nature, that their ingraffed lawes, neuer infringed by the most sauage & brute creatures, cānot of Gods people without pe­rill be obserued. I am not of so vn­naturall a kind, of so wilde educa­tion, or so vnchristian a spirite, as not to remember the roote out of which I braunched, or to forget my secondary maker and auctor of my being: It is not the carelesnes of a colde affection, nor the want of a dew and reuerent respect, that hath made me such a stranger to my na­tiue home, and so slacke in defray­ing the debt of a thankfull minde, but onely the iniquity of our daies, [Page 3]that maketh my presence perillous and the discharge of my dewty an occasion of daunger. I was loth to enforce an vnwelcome courtesy vp on any, or by seming officious, to become offensiue, deeming it bet­ter to let time digest the feare, that my return into the realme had bred in my kindred, then apruptly to in­trude my selfe, to purchase theire anger, whose good will I so highly esteemed. I neuer doubted, but that the beliefe, which to all my frendes by descent and petegree is in maner hereditary, framed in thē a righte perswasion of my present calling, not suffering them to mea­sure their censures of me, by the vg­ly termes, and odious Epitheetes, wherwith heresy hath sought to discredite my function, but rather by the reuerence of so worthy a Sacra­ment, [Page 4]and the sacred doome of all former ages. Yet because I might verye easely perceiue by apparent coniectures, that many were more willing to heare of me, then from me, and readier to praise, then to vse my endeuours, I haue hitherto bridled my desire to see them, with the care and ielosy of their saftye, & banishing my selfe from the sent of my cradle, in my owne country I haue liued like a forreiner, finding emong strangers that, which in my neerest bloode I presumed not to seeke. But now considering, that delay may haue qualified feare, & knowing my person onely to im­port daunger to others, and my per swasion to none but to my selfe, I thought it highe time to vtter my sincere and duetifull minde, and to open a vent to my zealous affecti­on, [Page 5]which I haue so long smothe­red and suppressed in silence. For not onely the originall lawe of na­ture, written in all childrens harts, and deriued from the bowells and brestes of their mothers, is a conti­nuall soliciter vrging me in your be halfe, but the souereigne decree e­nacted by the father of heauen, ra­tified by his sonne, and daily repea­ted by instincte of the holy ghost, bindeth euery child in the dew of Christianitye, to tender the estate and welfare of his parentes, and is a motiue, that alloweth no excuse, but of necessity presseth to perfor­mance of dewty. Nature by grace is not abolished, but perfited, not murdered, but manured, neither are her impressions quite rased, or an­nulled, but suted to the colours of faith and vertew. And if her affec­tions [Page 6]be so forcible, that euē in hell where rancour and despite chiefly reigneth, & all feeling of goodnes is ouerwhelmed in malice, they moued the rich glutton by experience of his owne misery to carry the lesse enuy to his kinred: how much more in the Church of God, where grace quickneth, charity enflameth, and natures good inclinations are abet­tered by supernaturall giftes, ought the duety of piety to preuaile. And who but more merciles then dam­ned creatures, could see their dee­rest frendes plunged in the like pe­rill, and not to be wounded with deepe remorse of their lamentable and imminent hazardes? If in be­holding a mortall enemy wroung and tortured with deadly pangues, the toughest harte softeneth with some sorow: If the most frozen and [Page 7]fierce minde cannot but thawe and melte with pity, euen when it seeth the worst miscreāt suffer his deser­ued torments: how much lesse can the hart of a childe, consider those that bredd him into this world, to be in the fall to farr more bitter ex­tremities, and not bleed with griefe of their vncomfortable case. Surely for my owne parte, though I cha­lenge not the prerogatiue of the best disposition, yet am I not of so harshe and currish an humour, but that it is a continuall corrasiue, and crosse vnto me, that wheras my en­deuours haue reclaimed many frō the brincke of perditiō, I haue bene least able to employ them, where they were most dew, & barred frō affordinge to my deerest frendes, that which hath ben eagerly sought and beneficially obtained of mere [Page 8]strangers. Who hath more interest in the grape then he that planted the vine? who more right to the cropp thē he that sowed the corne? or how can the child owe so greate seruice to any, as to him whōe he is indebted vnto for his very life and being? With yong Tobye I haue trauailed farre, and brought home a freight of spirituall substance, to enrich you, & medicinable receites against your ghostlye maladyes. I haue with Esau after long toile in pursuing a painfull chase, returned with such pray as you were wonte to loue, desiring therby to procure your blessing. I haue in this gene­rall famine of all true and Christian food, with Ioseph prepared abun­dance of the bread of Angells, for the repast of your soule. And now my desire is that my drugges may [Page 9]cure you, my pray delight you, and my prouision feed you, by whom I haue bene cured, delighted, and fedd my selfe, that your courtesies may in parte be counteruailed, and my ducty in some sorte performed. Despise not good Sir the youth of your sonne, neither deeme that god measureth his endouments by number of yeeres. Hoary senses are of­ten couched vnder greene lockes, and some are riper in the springe, then others in the Autumne of their age. God chose not Isaï him selfe, nor his eldest sonne, but yong Da­uid to conquere Golias and to rule his people. Not the most aged per­son, but Daniel the most innocent infant deliuered Suzanna from the iniquity of the iudges: and Christ at twelue yeares of age, was found in the temple questioning with the [Page 10]grauest Doctors. A true Elias can conceiue, that a little cloude may cast a large & abūdant shower, and the scripture teacheth vs, that God reuealeth to little ones that which he concealeth from the wisest Sa­ges. His truth is not abased by the minority of the speaker, who out of the mouthes of infantes & suck­linges can perfit his praises. Timo­thy was yong, and yet a principall pastour. S. Ihon not olde and yet an Apostle, yea and the Angels by appearing in youthfull semblances, giue vs a pregnant proofe, that ma­ny glorious giftes may be shrouded vnder tender shapes. All which I alledge, not to claime any priui­ledge surmounting the rate of vsu­all habilities, but to auoid all touch of presumption in aduising my el­ders, seing that it hath the warrant [Page 11]of scripture, the testimony of ex­amples, & sufficient groundes both in grace and nature. There is di­uersity in the degrees of our carnall consanquinity, and the preminence appertaineth to you, as superiour ouer your childes body. Yet if you consider our alliance in the chiefe portion, I meane our foule, which discerneth man from inferiour cre­atures, we are of equall proximity to our heauenly father, both des­cended of the same parent, and no other distance in our degrees, but that you are the elder brother. In this sense doth the scripture saye, Call not any father vpon earth, for one is your father which is in hea­uen. Seing therfore that your su­periority is founded vpon flesh and blood, which are in maner but the barke and rine of a man, and our [Page 12]equality vppon the soule, which is mans maigne substance, thinke it I praye you no dishonour to your age, or disparagement to your per­son, If with all humility I offer my aduise vnto you. One man cannot be perfect in all faculties, neither is it a disgrace to the goldsmith, if he be ignorant of the milleners trade. Many are deepe lawiers and yett shallowe Diuines, manye verye de liuer in feates of the body, and cu­rious in externall complementes, yet litle experimented in matters of their soule and farre to seeke in religious actions. I haue studied & practised these many yeeres spiri­tuall phisicke, acquainting my selfe with the beating and temper of e­uery pulse, & trauailing in the scru­tiny of the maladies & medicines in cident vnto soules. If therfore I profer [Page 13]you the fruits of my long studies and make you a present of my pro­fession, I hope you will construe it rather as a duetifull parte, then any point of presumption. He may be a father to the soule, that is a sonne to the body, and requite the benefit of his tēporall life, by reuiuing his pa­rent from a spirituall death. And to this effect did christ say thes words: my mother, and brethren are they, that do the will of my father which is in heauen: Vpon which place S. Climacus shewing to what kinred a Christian ought chiefly to relye, draweth this discourse. Let him be thy father, that both can and will lay his labour to disburden thee of thy packe of sinnes. Let holy com­punction be thy mother, to depure thee from thy ordure and filth. Let him be thy brother, that wilbe both [Page 14]thy partner and cōpeditour to passe and perfite thy race towardes hea­uen. Take the memory of death for thy perpetuall pheere, and vnsepa­rable spouse. Lett thy children be bitter sighes of a sorowfull harte, and possesse thy body as thy bond­man. Fasten thy frendshippe with the Angelicall powers, with which if thou closest in familiar affiance, they will be patrones vnto thee in thy finall passage. This (saieth he) is the generation & kinred of those that seeke God. Such a father as this Sainte speaketh of, maye you haue of your owne sonne, to enter you farther in the fore recited affi­nity. Of which happely it was a sig­nificāt presage, aboding the future euent, that euen frō my infancy you were wont in merimēt to call me father, R. which is the custumary stile [Page 15]now allotted to my present estate.

Now therfore to ioine issue, and to come to the principall drifte of my discourse, most humbly & ear­nestly I am to besech you, that both in respect of the honour of God, your duty to his Church, the com­forte of your children, and the re­dres of your owne soule, you wold seriously consider the termes you stand in, & way your selfe in a chri­stian ballance, taking for your coū ­terpoise the iudgementes of God. Take heede in time, that the word Thecel writtē of olde against Balta­zar, & interpreted by Daniel, Dan. 5. be not verified in you, whose ex­position was: you haue bene poised in the scoale, and found of to lighte weight. Remember that you are in the waining, and the date of your pilgrimage is well nere expired, & [Page 16]now it behooueth you to looke to­wardes your country. Your force languisheth, your senses impaire, & your body droupeth, and on euery side the ruinous cottage of your faint & feeble flesh, thretneth fall. And hauing so many herbingers of death to premonishe you of your end, how can you but prepare for so dredfull a stranger. The yonge may dye quickly, but the olde can­not liue long. The yong mens life by casualty may be abridged, but the olde mens by no phisicke can be long adiourned: and therfore if greene yeres sometimes must think of the graue, the thoughtes of sere age should continually dwel in the same. The prerogatiue of infancie is innocency, of childhoode reue­rence, of manhood maturity, and of age wisdome. And seeing that [Page 17]the chiefe properties of wisdome are, to be mindfull of things passed carefull of thinges present, & pro­uident of thinges to come, vse now the priuiledge of natures talent to the benefitte of your soule, & pro­cure hereafter to be wise in weldo­ing, and watchfull in foresight of future harmes. To serue the world you are now vnhable, and though you were hable you haue litle cause to be willing, seeing that it neuer gaue you but an vnhappy welcome a hurtfull entertainment, and now doth abandon you with an vnfor­tunate farewell. You haue long so­wed in a field of flint, which could bring you nothing forth, but a crop of cares, and affliction of spirit, re­warding your labours with remorse and affording for your gaine eter­nall domages. It is now more then [Page 18]a seasonable time time, to alter the course of so vnthriuing a husbādry, and to enter into the field of Gods Church, in which sowing the seeds of repentant sorow, and watering them with the teares of humble cō ­trition, you may reape a more be­neficiall haruest, & gather the fruits of euerlasting comforte. Remem­ber I pray you, that your spring is spent, and your somer ouerpast: you are now arriued to the fall of leafe, yea and winter colours haue alrea­dy stained your hoary head. Be not careles (saieth S. Augustin) though our louing Lorde beare long with offenders. for the longer he staieth not finding amendment, the sorer will he scourge when he cometh to ludgement. and his patience in so long expecting, is onely to lend vs respite to repent, not any way to [Page 19]enlarge vs leisure to sinne. He that is tossed with varietye of stormes, & cannot come to his desired port, maketh not much way, but is much tormoiled: So he that hath passed many yeeres, and purchased little profitte, hath had a long being, but a shorte life. for life is more to be measured by merittes, thē by num­ber of daies, seeing that most men by many daies do but procure ma­ny deathes, and others in a shorte space attein the life of infinite ages. What is the body without the soule but a corrupte carcase: and what the soule without God, but a sepul­cher of sinne. If God be the way, the life, and the truth, he that go­eth without him, strayeth: he that liueth without him, dieth: and he that is not taught by him, erreth. Well saieth S. Augustine that God [Page 20]is our trew and chiefest life, from whome the reuolting is falling, to whome the returninge is rising, in whom the staying is sure standing. God is he, from whom to depart is to dye, to whom to repaire is to re­uiue, in whome to dwell is to liue. Be not you therfore of those, that beginne not to liue, vntill they be ready to dye, & then after a foes de­sert, come to craue of God a frends entertainment. Some thincke to snatch heauen in a moment, which the best scarce atteined in the moū ­tenance of many yeeres. and when they haue glutted them selues with worldly delites, they would iumpe frō Diues his diet to Lazarus croun, and from the seruice of Satan to the solacy of a Saint. But be you well assured, that god is not so penurious of frendes, as to hold him selfe and [Page 21]his kingdome salable for the refuse and reuersion of theire liues, who haue sacrificed the principall ther­of to his enemies, and their owne brutishe appetites, then onely cea­sing to offend, when hability of of­fending is taken from them. True it is, that a theefe may be saued vp­on the crosse, and mercy found at the last gaspe. But well saieth saint Augustine that though it be possi­ble, yett is it scarce credible, that his death should find fauour, whose whole life hath earned wrath, and that his repentance should be ac­cepted, that more for feare of hell, and loue of him selfe, then for loue of God or lothsomnes of sinne, cri­eth for mercy. Wherfore good Sir make no longer delayes, but being so neere the breaking vpp of your mortall house, take time before ex­tremitye [Page 22]to satisfie Gods Iustice. Though you suffered the bud to be blasted, & the flower to fade, thogh you permitted the fruite to be peri­shed, and the leaues to drye vp, yea though you let the bougheswither, and the body of your tree growe to decaye: yett alas keepe life in the roote, for feare least the wholle be­come fuell for hell fire. for surely whersoeuer the tree falleth, there shall it be, whether it be to south or north, heauē or hell, & such sap as it bringeth such fruit shal it euer bear. Death hath already filed from you the better part of your naturall for­ces, and hath lefte you now to the lees and remissailes of your wearish and dyinge dayes: the remainder wherof, as it cānot be long, so doth it warne you speedilye to ransome your former losses. For what is age [Page 23]but the calendes of death, and what importeth your present weaknes, but an earnest of your approching dissolution? You are now impath­ed in your finall voiage, and not far of from the stint and period of your course: and therfore be not dispur­ueied of such appurtenances as are behoofull in so perplexed and pe­rillous a iorney. Death in it selfe is very fearefull, but much more ter­ble in regard of the iudgement that it summoneth vs vnto. If you were layed on your departing bed, bur­dened with the heauy load of your former trespasses, and goared with the sting and pricke of a festered conscience: If you felt the crampe of death wresting your hart stringes & ready to make the rufull diuorce betweene body and soule: If you lay panting for breath, and swim­ming [Page 24]in a colde and fatall sweat, weried with strugling against your deadly panges: O how much wold you giue for an hower of repentāce at what rate woulde you valew a dayes contrition. Then worldes would be worthles in respecte of a litle respitte. A shorte truce would seeme more pretious, then the trea sures of Empires. nothing would be so much esteemed as a trice of time, which now by monethes and yeeres is lauishly mispent. O how deeply would it wound your hart, when looking backe into your life you considered many faultes com­mitted and not confessed, manye good workes omitted and not re­couered, your seruice to God pro­mised and not performed. How in­consolable were your case, your frends being fled, your senses frighted, [Page 25]your thoughtes amazed, your memory decaied, your whole mind agast, and no partable to performe that it should, but onely your guil­ty conscience pestered with sinne, that would cōtinually vpbreid you with most bitter accusations. what woulde you thinke when stripped out of your mortall weed, and tur­ned both out of the seruice & hous­rome of this world, you were for­ced to enter into vncouth & strāge pathes, & with vnknowen and vg­ly company to be cōuented before a most seuere iudge, carying in your owne conscience your enditement written, and a perfitte register of all your misdeedes: when you should see him prepared to passe the sen­tence vpon you, against whom you had transgressed, and the same to be your vmpier, whom by so many [Page 26]offēces you had made your enemy: When not onely the Deuells, but euen the Angells should pleade a­gainst you, and your selfe maugre your will be your sharpest appea­cher. What would you do in these dredfull exigentes? When you saw that gastly dungeon & huge golfe of hell, breaking out with most fear full flames: Whē you saw the wee­ping & gnashing of teeth, the rage of those hellish monsters, the hor­rour of the place, the rigour of the paine, the terrour of the company, and the eternity of all these punish­mentes, would you then thinke thē wise, that would daly in so weigh­ty matters, and idly play away the time allotted to preuēt these intol­lerable calamities? would you thē account it secure, to nurse in your bosome so many serpents as sinnes, [Page 27]or to foster in your soule so manye malicious accusers as mortal faltes? Would yo not then thinke one life to little to do penance for so many iniquities, euery one wherof were enough to cast you into those euer­lasting and vnspeakable torments? Why then do you not at the least deuote that small remnant and sur­plusage of these your latter dayes, procuring to make an attonement with God and to free your consci­ence from such corruption, as by your schisme and fall hath crept in­to it. Those very eies that read this discourse, and that very vnderstan­ding that conceiueth it, shalbe sighted & certaine witnesses of the re­hearsed thinges. In your owne bo­dy shall you experience those ded­ly agonies, and in your soule shall you feelinglye finde those terrible [Page 28]feares, yea and your present estate is in danger of the deepest harmes, if you doe not the sooner recouer your selfe into the folde and family of Gods Church. What haue you gotten by being so long customer to the world, but false ware sutable to the shoppe of such a marchant, whose traficke is toile, whose welth trashe, and whose gaine miserye? what interest haue you reaped, that maye equall your decrementes in grace and vertew, or what coulde you find in a vale of teares parage­able to the fauour of God, with the losse wherof you were contented to buy it: You cannot be now in­ueigled with the passions of youth, which making a partiall estimate of thinges sette no distance betweene counterfeite and currant. For they are now worn out of force by tract [Page 29]of time, or fallen in reproofe by tri­all of their folly. It cannot be feare that leadeth you amisse, seeing it were to vnfitting a thing, that the crauāt cowardice of flesh & blood, should daunte the prowesse of an intelligent person, who by his wis­dome can-not but discerne, how much more cause there is to feare God then man, & to stand in more awe of perpetuall, then of tempo­rall penalties. If it be an vngroun­ded presumption of the mercy of God, and the hope of his assistance at the last plunge, (the ordinarye lure of the Deuell to reclaime sin­ners from the pursuite of vertew) it is to palpable a collusiō to misleade a sound and sensed man, howsoe­uer it preuaile with sicke and affe­cted iudgmentes. Who would rely eternall affaires vppon the gliding [Page 30]slippernes & running streame of our vncertaine life? or who but one of distēpered wittes, would offer fraud to the decipherer of all thoughtes, with whome dissemble we may to our cost, but to deceiue him it is im­possible. Shall we esteeme it cun­ning to robbe the time from him and bestow it on his enemies, who keepeth tale of the least minutes of our life, & will examine in the end how eche moment hath bene im­ploied. It is a preposterous pollicy in any wise conceit, to fight against God till our weapons be blunted, our forces consumed, our limmes impotent, and our best spent, and then when we fall for faintnes, and haue fought our selues almost dead to presume of his mercy, the woūds both of his sacred body, so often rubbed and renued by our sinnes, [Page 31]and euery parcell of our owne so sundry and diuerse waies abused, being so many whetstones and in­centiues to edge and exasperat his reuenge against vs. It were a strāge peece of art, and a very exorbitant course, while the shippe is sound, the Pilote well, the sailers strong, the gale fauourable, and the Sea calme, to lye idle at rode, burning so seasonable wether: and whē the ship leaked, the Pilot were sick, the Mariners faint, the stormes boiste­rous, and the Sea a tormoile of out­ragious surges, then to lanch forth, to hoise vp sailes, and to set out for a voiage into farre countries. Yett such is the skill of these euening re­penters, who though in the sound­nes of helth, and in the perfitte vse of reason, they cannot resolue to cut the gables and weigh the anc­kers, [Page 32]that with-hold thē from God, neuerthelesse they feed them selues with a strong perswasion, that whē their senses are astonied, their witts distracted, their vnderstanding dus­ked, and both the body and minde racked & tormēted with the throbs and gripes of a mortall sicknes, thē forsooth will they thincke of the weightiest matters, & become so­daine Saintes, when they are scarce able to behaue them selues, like re­sonable creatures. If neither the ca­non, ciuill, nor cōmon law allow­eth, that a man perished in iudge­ment, should make any testament or bequeste of his temporall sub­stance, being then presumed to be lesse then a man: how can he that is amated with the inward garboils of an vnsetled conscience, distrai­ned with the wringing fittes of his [Page 33]dying fleshe, maimed in all his ha­bilities, & circled in with so strāge encombrances, be thought of dew discretion to dispose of his chiefest iewell, which is his soule, and to dispatch the wholle menage of all eternity, & of the treasures of hea­uen, in so stormy and shorte a spurt. No no they that will loyter in seed time, and beginne onely to sowe, when others reape: They that will riotte out their health, & cast theire accountes when they can scarcely speake: They that will slumber out the day & enter their iorney when the light doth faile thē. Let them blame their owne folly, if they dye in debt, and eternall beggers, and fall hedlong into the lapse of end­lesse perdition. Let such harken to S. Ciprians lesson. Let (saieth he) the greeuousnes of our sore, be the [Page 34]sure of our sorrowe. Lett a deepe wounde haue deepe and dilligent cure. Lett no mans contrition be lesse then his crime. Thinkest thou that our Lord can be so soone ap­peased, whō with perfidious words thou hast denied, whom lesse then thy patrimony thou hast esteemed, whose temple with sacriligious corruption thou hast defiled. Thinc­kest thou easely to recouer his fa­uour, whome thou hast auouched not to be thy Master? We must ra­ther most instantly intreat, we must passe the day in mourning, the night in watching, & weeping, our wholl time in plainfull lamentinge. We must fall prostrate vpon the ground humbling our selues in sackclothe and ashes. And hauing lost the garment of Christ, we should be vn­willinge to be clothed with any o­ther [Page 35]hauing farsed our stomackes with the viande of the Deuell, we should now desire to fast from all earthly food. We should ply good workes to purge our offences, we should be liberall in almes to auoid the death of our soules, that Christ may receiue, that the persecutour would haue spoiled, neither ought that patrimony to be kept or phan­sied, with which a man hath bene ensnared & vanquished. Not eue­ry short sighe will be a sufficient sa­tisfaction, nor euery knocke a war­rant to get in. Many cry Lord Lord and are not accepted. The foolish Virgins knocked, and were not ad­mitted. Iudas had some sorow and yet dyed desperate. Forslowe not saieth the holy ghost to be conuer­ted vnto God, and linger not of from day to day. for sodeinly will [Page 36]his wrath come, and in the time of reuenge he will destroy thee. Lett no man soiourne long in his sinfull securitye, nor post ouer his repen­tance till feare enforce him vnto it. Lett vs frame our premises as we would find our conclusion, and en­deuour to liue as we are desirous to dye. Shall we offer the mayne crop to the Deuell, and set God to glean the reproofe of his haruest? Shall we gorge the Deuell with our fai­rest fruites, and turne God to feed on the filthy scraps of his leauings? How great a folly were it when a man pineth away in a perillous lan­guour, to prouide gorgeous appa­rell, to bespeake sumptuous furni­ture, and take order for the rearing of stately buildings, & neuer think­ing of his owne recouery, to let the disease take roote within him? were [Page 37]it not the like vanity, for a Prince to dote so farre vpon his subiecte, as neglecting his owne regalty, to busy him selfe wholly in aduancing his seruant? Thus saieth S. Chriso­stome do they, that whē their soule hath surfeited with all kind of sinne and is drenched in the depth of in­finite diseases, without any regard therof, labour their wittes in setting forth her garment, and in pampe­ring the body with all possible de­lightes. And wheras the soule shold haue the soueraignty, and the body followe the sway of her direction, scruile senses, and lawlesse appe­tites do rule her as superiours, and she is made a vassall in her owne dominions. What is there sayeth S. Augustine in thy meanest nece­ssaries, that thou wouldest not haue good? Thou wouldest haue a good [Page 38]house, good furniture, good appa­rell, good fare, good cattell, and not so much but thy hose and thy shoes thou wilt seek to haue good. Onely thy life and poore soule, thy principall charge, and of all other things the most worthy to be best, thou arte cōtent should be nought, and ly cancring and rusting in all kinde of euelles. O vnspeakable blindnes. can we preferr our shoes before our soule, refusing to we are an euell shoe, and not caring to ca­ry an vgly & deformed soule? Alas let vs not set so litle by that, which God prised so much. Lett vs not rate our selues at soe base a peni­worth, being in truth of so pereles dignity. If the soule be such, that not all the gold and treasure of the world, nor any thing of lesse worth then the blood and life of almighty [Page 39]God, was able to buy it. If not all the deinties that witt can deuise, or heauen and earth afford, but onely Gods owne pretious body was by him deemed a repast fitt to feed it. If not all the creatures of this, nor millions of new worldes, if so ma­ny more were created, but onely the illimitable goodnes and maie­stye of God can satisfie the desire, and fill the compasse and capacity of it, who but of lame iudgemēt, or peruers will, yea who but of an in­credulous mind, and pitiles spirite could set more by his shoes, then he did by his soule, or be cōtented to suffer so noble a paragon, so many monethes and yeeres to ly chanel­led in ordure, & mired in all sinne. Can we not see our seruant sicke, but we allow him a Phisician, our horse diseased but we send for a [Page 40]leach, nor our garment torne, but we will haue one to mend it? and can we so much maligne out soule, as to let it dye for want of cure, and seing it mangled with so many vi­ces, neuer seeke any to restore it to the wonted inte grity? Is our seruāt neerer, our beast more pretious, & our coate dearer, then our owne soule? If any shold call vs Epicures Aethestes, rebells vnto God, or murderers of soules, we would take it for an vntollerable reproche, and thinke it a most disgracefull & op­probrious calumniatiō. But to liue like Epicures, to sinne like Aethists to struggle against Gods callinges, and like violēt rebells to scorne his commandements: yea & with dai­lye and damnable wounds, barba­rously to stab our infortunat soules, this we account no contumely, we [Page 41]reckon for no discreditt, yea rather we register it in the vaunte of our chiefe praises. O ye sonnes of men, how long will you carry this hea­uy hart, aliking vanity, and seeking lyes? how long will children loue the follies of infancye, and sinners runne carelesse and wilfull to their ruine? Will you keepe your chic­ken from the kite, your lambe from the wolfe, your faune frō the hoūd. Dare you not suffer a spider in your bosome, or a toade to come nere you, & can you nestle in your soule so many vipers as vices, and permit it to be so long chewed, & weried with the poisoned iawes, & tuskes of the Deuell? And is our soule so vaine a substance as to be had in so litle esteeme? Had Christ made shipwracke of his wisdome, or was he in a rage of passion when he be­came [Page 24]a wandering pilgrimme exi­ling him selfe from the comfortes of his Godhead, and passing three and thirty yeares in paine and pe­nury for the be hoofe of our soules? Was he surprised with a rauing fitt, when in the tragedy of his passion so bloodily inflicted, and so pati­tiently accepted, he made his bo­dy as a cloud, to resolue into shou­ers of innocent blood, and suffered the deerest veines of his hart to be lanced, to giue full issue to the price of our soules redemption? Or if Christ did not erre, nor deeme a­misse, when it pleased him to re­deeme vs with so excessiue a ran­some, then what should we iudge of our monstruous abuse, that sell our soule to the Deuell for euerye vaine delighte, & rather aduenture the hazard therof, then of a selye [Page 43]pittance of worldly pelfe. O that a creature of so incōparable a price, should be in the demaine of so vn­naturall keepers, and that which is in it selfe so gracious and amiable, that the Angells and Saintes delite to behold it, (as S. Chrisostome sai­eth) should by sinne be fashioned into so lothsome & disguised shapes as to become a horrour to heauen, and a sutely pheere for the foulest fiendes. Alas if the care of our own harmes moue vs no more, but that we can still be so barbarous to the better portion of our selues, lett vs at the lest feare to iniury an other party, very carefull and ielious ouer it: who will neuer endure so deepe an impeachment of his interest to passe vnreuenged. We must remē ­ber, that our soule is not onely a part of vs, but also the temple, the [Page 44]paradise, and spouse of Almightye god, by him in baptisme garnished, stored, and endowed with moste graciouse ornamentes. And how think you, he can brooke, to see his temple prophaned, and turned in­to a denne of Deuels, his paradise displanted, and altered into a wil­dernesse of serpentes, his spouse de­floured, and become an adulteresse to his vtter enemies? Durst we of­fer such vsage to our Princes, yea or to our farmers daughter? woulde not feare of the lawe, and popular shame, disturne vs from it? And shall not the reuerend Maiestye of almighty God, and the vnrebated iustice of his angry sword, terrifie vs from offering the like to his own spouse? Do we thinke God either so impotent that he cannot, so base and sottish that he will not, or so [Page 45]weake witted that he knoweth not how to wreake him selfe vpon so contēptuous and daring offenders? Will he so neglect and lose his ho­nour, which of all thinges he clai­meth as his chiefe peculier? Will he that for the soules sake keepeth a reckoninge of our verye heares, which are but the excrementes of her earthly weed, see him selfe so much wronged in the principall, & passe it without remōstrance of his iust indignation? O deere Sir remē ­ber thāt the scripture termeth it a thing full of horrour to fall into the hands of God, who is able to crush the proud spirittes of the obstinate, and to make his enemies the foote­stoole of his feete. Wrastle no lon­ger against the cries of your owne conscience, and the forcible inspi­rations that God doth sende you. [Page 46]Embrace his mercy before the time of rigour, & returne to his Church lest he debarre you his kingdome. He cannot haue God for his father, that refuseth to professe the Catho­licke Church for his mother, nei­ther can he atchiue to the Church triumphant in heauen, that is not a member of the Church militāt here in earth.

You haue bene alas to long an aliant in the tabernacles of sinners, and straied to farr from the folde of Gods flocke. Turne now the blaze of your harte towardes the sanctu­ary of saluation, and the city of re­fuge, seeking to recompence your wandering steppes troddē in error, with a swifte gate and zelous pro­gresse to Christian perfection, & re­deming the time because the daies be euell. The full of your spring­tide [...]