'Hit-

"I give thefe Books
for the founding of a College in tMs Colony"

Bought with the Income of the
Edward Wells So-uthworth
F-and 1907

WKMjgsflw mn.

THE STORY BOOKS
OF LITTLE GIDDING

BEING
THE RELIGIOUS DIALOGUES RECITED
IN THE GREAT ROOM,
1631-2

From the Original Manuicript of
NICHOLAS FERRAR

With an Introduction by
E. CRUWYS SHARLAND

NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON AND CO.
31 West Twenty-Third Street
1899

®0
AND TO THE MEMORY OF
ROSETTA LOUISA STIRLING,
GRAND-DAUGHTER OF ROSETTA FERRAR,
AND A LINEAL DESCENDANT
OF THE FERRARS OF
LITTLE GIDDING

PREFACE
The Story Books of Little Gidding consist of five manuscript
folio volumes, mostly in Nicholas Ferrar's own handwriting,
and were all bound by Mary Collet in black morocco with
gilt edges. The penmanship, which is exquisite, possesses a
few noticeable peculiarities, such as the accent over the article
"a" — (i) — and the brace which connects "ct"and "st" —
("alFeftion," "ftand," &c. A distinctive feature, also, ot
these and all other writings done at Little Gidding, is the
heading of every page with the sacred monogram, I H S.
The history of the Story Books, so far as it is known, is as
follows. In the year 1631 (1632) the first volume was completed
and presented, first to old Mrs. Ferrar, afterwards, by her wish,
to Mr. and Mrs. Collet's eldest daughter, Mrs. Joshua Maple
toft, of Margetting, Essex. In the course of the next few
years three other volumes were compiled at Little Gidding,
copies of which were most probably transcribed and forwarded
to this much-loved absent member of the family ; for her uncle
Nicholas had assured her (p. liv.) " that of every good thing
that God shall impart to us, you shall ever have as liberal and
free a communication as wee can possibly make you." The
fifth volume is a duplicate of the first part of Vol. IL,
made for some other absentee. These five books were
carefully preserved for two hundred years by generations of
Mapletofts, together with " The Great Concordance " (as it
was called in Miss Mapletoft's will), or Harmony of the
Four Gospels, made and bound by Mary Collet ; a cabinet

vi PREFACE
presented to the family by King Charles I., a silk purse also
given by the King, and a few books and relics of less import
ance and later dates.
At the death of Miss Anne Mapletoft of Canterbury, at an
advanced age, in 1856, these heirlooms passed into the hands
of another descendant of the Ferrars and Mapletofts, Mrs.
Henry Solly Hodges, of Tiverton, Devon, by whom they were
reverently cherished for over thirty years. But when Mrs.
Hodges died, in the year 1888, leaving all her Little Gidding
treasures to a cousin who was living in New South Wales,
they were sent to that distant land with much regret, for it was
feared that in after years they would be lost sight of, and their
association with Little Gidding completely destroyed. This
view of the matter having been set before Mr. H. Mapletoft
Davis, he decided, after much consideration, to send the Ferrar
relics back to England, stipulating that they should be disposed
of either to a descendant of the family or to the trustees
of some public institution.^ In accordance with these terms,
the treasures were distributed in the following manner : —
Charles I.'s cabinet was purchased by the Oueen, and is now
at Windsor Castle.
The trustees of the British Museum bought the " Great Con
cordance," three of the Story Books, an abridged MS. Life of
N. Ferrar, in paper cover, copied from other sources, and a
Cambridge Commonplace Book of later date.
The other two Story Books, viz., Vol. IIL, and the
duplicate of Vol. II. , pt. i, had been bespoken by the
Governors of Clare College, Cambridge (Nicholas Ferrar's
own College), but they courteously resigned their claim in
favour of Lady Lyell, a lineal descendant of the Ferrar family,
' A copy of the first edition of Dr. Peckard's " Life of Nicholas
Ferrar" was placed with the Story Books, &c., by Mr. Richard
Mapletoft in 1 79 1. In the beginning of the book he desired
that this copy might be always kept with the other volumes, and
it was sent back to England with them in 1893, but was unac
countably lost shortly afterwards.

PREFACE vii
who is now the possessor of these two volumes, and of the
purse given by King Charles I.
The present volume is a copy of Vol. I. and the first part of
Vol. II. , from the original books in the Manuscript department
of the British Museum.
Should these Stories meet with acceptance, the series will be
completed by the publication of a second volume, containing
VoL IV., on Temperance (Brit. Mus.) ; Vol. IIL, Charles the
Fifth's Relinquishment of this World (by the kind permission
of Lady Lyell) ; and the latest records of the Little Academy,
compiled after the death of its venerable Founder, and copied
into the second part of Vol. II. (Brit. Mus.) To these will
be added (by the kind permission of the Archbishop of Canter
bury) a copy of an original Manuscript by John Ferrar,^ now
in Lambeth Palace Library.
^ There is no doubt that Ferrar is the correct spelling of the
name. Mr. Michael Ferrar, one of the present representatives of
the family, says that Gwalkeline de Ferrariis was Master of the
Horse to William the Conqueror. His surname, as was usual in
those days (and later), was taken from his estate known as Ferraria,
the plural of the Latin Ferrarium, iron-mine or iron district, at or
about Ferrieres, a town near Liege. The members of the family
were all de Ferrariis — that is, " of the Iron lands " or " Tron
mines." Gwalkeline's son Henricus was made Earl de Ferrars,
(shortened from Ferrariis), and got grants of land in very many —
fifteen or twenty — of the counties of England. His descendants
branched out into numerous families, and some of them spelt their
names properly, Ferrars and Ferrar : others, according to custom,
were careless and spelt it Ferrers, Farrar, Farrer, &c. Nicholas, the
elder and younger, used Farrar, and sometimes Farrer : but the
correct form, Ferrar, appears to have been used in the latter's life
time, or soon after his death (in 1637), and continued so to be used
by the Huntingdon family till they disappeared from the county
some one hundred and fifty years ago. Nicholas Ferrar's father
got a special grant of arms and crest on 2gth December, 1588,
from Queen Elizabeth, still used by the family. And the motto is
the same as that of the ancient Ferrars : —
" Ferre va Ferme "— " Go firmly shod."

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
The following short history has been entirely derived from two
biographies, edited by the Rev. J. E. B. Mayor, at Cambridge,
in 1855, entitled "Nicholas Ferrar, Two Lives; by his
Brother John and by Dr. Jebb " (a friend and contemporary).
Nicholas Ferrar, the saintly and gifted compiler of these
religious exercises, was born on the 22nd day of February,
A.D. 1593. From his elder brother, John, his faithful and
loving biographer, we learn that he was "a lovely child, fair
and of bright hair hke his mother. The Bible was the book
in the world, to him dear and precious. The next book, the
Book of Martyrs, he took great delight in, and the story of
Bishop Ferrar he had perfect, as for his name's sake."
He was confirmed at the early age of five, on which occasion
he managed to slip unnoticed from his place a second time, and
thus secured a double portion of the bishop's blessing for him
self. " I did it," he said, " because it is a good thing to have
the bishop's prayers and blessing twice, and I have got it."
Even when he was but six years of age little Nicholas
" fancied being a clergyman." Once when Mrs. Ferrar and
her maids were making little bands for the children, trimmed
with lace, " he came very soberly to his mother, and earnestly
prayed her that his bands might have no lace upon them, but
be made little plain bands. ' Why, child,' saith she, ' will you
not have your bands made like the rest of your brothers ? '
' No, I pray you, dear mother,' said he, 'let mine be such little
plain bands as Mr. Antony Wotton wears ; for I will be a
preacher as he is.' Mr. Wotton was then newly come into
the parlour to visit Mr. Ferrar and his wife (as he once a week,
if not oftener, used to do), and he and Mrs. Ferrar heartily

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH ix
laughed at the child's earnestness in that particular, for he
would have no nay."
Although noted for bodily activity and grace, and also
possessed of a vigorous temper of mind, he never enjoyed
good health, being subject from infancy to aguish attacks.
When he was about to be sent to school (being then only in
his eighth year) "it pleased God to permit a sore and grievous
temptation to befall Nicholas Ferrar, that wonderfully perplexed
his body and mind, ' Whether there was a God, and how to be
served.' One night, which was cold and frosty, he riseth out
of his bed, for sleep he could not, and goes down to a green
grass-plat in the garden, and throws himself upon his face on
the ground, and with extreme perplexity of grief, sobs, sighs,
and abundance of tears, earnestly with all his strength, humbly
begged of God that ' He would put into his heart the true fear
and care of His Divine Majesty, and that this fear and love of
God might never depart out of his mind, and that he might
know how he must serve Him.' After much bitter weeping
he felt his heart much eased, and comforts began to come to
it, and to have an assurance of God, and the doubt began to
pass away, and his heart was much cheered. He then rose up,
and went up to his chamber to bed again, but could not sleep
but little ; yet found he daily more and more confirmation in
his soul, and so had all his lifetime after a more than ordinary
fear of God in him, and His presence, which continued in him
to his dying day." Another biographer (John Worthington)
writes : " Two things especially, in that night's holy exercise
were so imprinted in the heart and mind of the child that they
came fresh into his memory every day of his life. (This he told
me more than once, two or three years before his death.) The
one was the joy and sweetness which he did in that watching
night conceive and feel in his heart. The other was the
gracious promise which God made to him, to bless and keep
him all his whole life, so that he would constantly fear God
and keep His commandments."
The next event of importance was the entrance of Nicholas

X INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
Ferrar at a school, " where one Mr. Brooks, an excellent man
for discipline, had introduced so extraordinary a way of teaching
and living, that I am apt to believe " (says Dr. Jebb) " the
thoughtful, pious child did there receive the first impressions
and dispositions to that regular and religious course of life he
so many years after heightened and formed in his own family
into a greater and nobler figure of the good old Christian
discipline." "This Mr. Brooks had lived and preached with much
esteem in London, but following the example of Jo. Gerson,
the famous chancellor of Paris, he forsook the noise of a great
city to preside over children in a country retirement, believing
his charitable pains abundantly rewarded by the prayers of such
happy innocents. He procured able masters in their several
kinds : a master of music, a writing master, and a choice one
for grammar learning, reserving to himself a governing inspec
tion over the scholars and over the tutors themselves. Above
all, they had their times for conning and repeating the Church
catechism, the psalter, the epistles and gospels, for which this
youth's vast memory served him to good purpose and to his great
consolation, when many years after he travelled and fell desper
ately sick among those who take it for a mark of heresy in a
traveller to carry about him an English Bible. None of the
scholars performed their tasks of this kind (neither indeed of
any kind) so constantly, carefully, and easily as he. Some
times at those repetitions he would deliver observations of his
own that could not have been expected from his years (which
yet, that it may not seem incredible, was no more than St.
Augustine's Adeodatus would often do, whose prodigious wit,
the father himself protests, amazed him to think of it). He
did so naturally comprehend and retain everything, that while
he conquered the greatest difficulties, he neglected not the least
parts of useful education. Shorthand he learnt exactly, and
his masters were even proud of him, and gave him this
commendation, that he could do what he pleased. Yet he
had so little vanity and took so little pleasure in hearing

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xi
himself commended, that he would often weep and forsake
his meals when they would applaud him, and so unawares
expose himself to the envy of his schoolfellows ; so that if his
other virtues were gained by exercise, it looked as if his
modesty and humility were born and bred with him."
When Nicholas Ferrar was in his thirteenth year, Mr.
Brooks thought him more than ripe for the University, and
placed him at Clare Hall, Cambridge. It was by no means
unusual at that time for boys of his age to be promoted from
school to University.
Nicholas Ferrar was at first entered as a pensioner at Clare
Hall, in order " that he might be more strictly obliged to
study and exercise. But soon after, the fellows would needs
have him fellow-commoner, that he might be their companion,
as they expressed themselves. His tutor (Dr. Lindsell, after
wards Bishop of Peterborough, and at last of Hereford) would
invite his learned friends to be present at hard trials of his
memory, and other his extraordinary faculties. And though
a friendly foe (as one calls a great expectation) was raised upon
him, yet he often performed things greater than were expected,
either in declaiming (which he was chosen to execute on the
Coronation Day, St. James' Day, July 25, 1610, in the College
Hall), or in disputing, or which way ever they turned him, for
he was all obedience. He was no sooner Bachelor of Arts
but the Master of Clare Hall and the other electors were
pleased to invite this young fellow-commoner into a fellowship,
and chose him by unanimous consent at their next election.
Whilst he lived at the college, his life was the example not
only of his equals but of his superior*. It must be no little
indisposition that kept him at home when he heard the five
o'clock bell ring to chapel. His chamber might be known by
the last candle put out, and by the first lighted in the morning.
As his parts were excellent, so his industry was admirable, but his
piety at his years was incomparable ; and what made this still more
illustrious was that his fervours of devotion were so tempered
and well governed by a rare judgment and discretion, when he

xii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
was not above twenty years old, that he seemed to possess this
in a more eminent height than any one of his other virtues.
So good a conduct in his affairs, with such undoubted integrity,
gained him universal esteem, with a powerful influence upon
all his particular friends ; and this good-natured youth would be
overjoyed to use that interest as a reconciler, if any difference
happened among them, or to divert them from any ill-chosen
resolution. His good old tutor would often change his mind
upon his advice, and then would tell others of the society
pleasantly, that if his pupil took them to task, he would alter them
too." It was during his residence at Clare Hall that he used to
visit frequently his eldest sister, Susanna Collet, who, with her
husband and family, was living at Bourne, about ten miles from
Cambridge. " This sister he loved entirely, she being a lover
of learning — often resorted to her house, and his tutors and
fellows — had divers young nieces, bred up with their mother,
trained up in daily reading chapters in the Bible and David's
psalms, whom he instructed in all good things, with exhorta
tions in writing and letters." This he ever continued to do
until the day of his death.
In the autumn of 1612, when Nicholas Ferrar had been
about three years a graduate, his aguish attacks obtained such
hold upon him that his physician ordered him to " change the
air of England and go beyond sea for the recovery of his health,
and a necessary diversion from his incessant studies," expressing
the opinion that " nothing but travel could preserve his life, and
that scarce would prolong it beyond his thirty-fifth or thirty-sixth
year " ; but, by the blessing of Providence, his very temperate
manner of life caused him to be spared to rule his household at
Little Gidding until he had overpassed the age of forty-four.
His parents were very unwilling to part with him, and so
were many of his fellow-students, who " loved him as a
brother." But his tutor persisted in taking a hopeful view ot
his case, bidding them all " hope comfortably to see him again,
not only improved in health and learning, but grown in grace,
a stock few ofour young travellers increase abroad."

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xiii
In the following April, through the introduction of Dr.
Scott, then Master of Clare Hall, and sub-almoner to the
King, Nicholas was appointed one of the gentlemen to attend
the Princess Elizabeth, who was newly married to the Elector
Palatine, and was about to be conducted to the Palatinate.
Before leaving Cambridge, however, he was created Master of
Arts, the University conferring his degree upon him before
Midsummer, by extraordinary favour. Three days after his
departure, a remarkable paper was found in his study, of which
his brother John transcribed a copy in his diary. It was this :
"Since there is nothing more certain than death, nor more
uncertain than the time when ; I thought it the first and chief
wisdom for a man to prepare himself for that which must one
day come, and always to be ready for that which may every
hour happen ; especially considering how dangerous an error is
here, which cannot be amended ; neither is any man anything
the nearer death for it. It is, then, a thing of exceeding madness
and folly to be negligent in so weighty a matter, in respect
whereof other things are trifles. I here confess my own
wretchedness and folly in this, that through the common hope
of youth have set death far from me ; and persuading myself
that I had a long way to run, have more carelessly walked
than I should. The Good Lord be merciful unto me.
" Indeed, I have a long way to run, if death stood still at the
end of three score years ; but God knows if he be not coming
against me, if he be not ready to grasp me, especially con
sidering the many dangers wherein I am now to hazard
myself, in every one of which death dwells, and if God keep
me not, I know in some of them he will entrap me,
" If the good Lord be merciful unto me, and bring me
safe home again, I will all the days of my life serve Him in
His holy Name and exhorting others ; yea, in His tabernacle,
and in His holy sanctuary will I serve Him, and shall account
the lowest place in His house better and more honourable
than the greatest crown in the world,
" But I know my sins have deserved all His plagues and

xiv INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
punishments, that any soul may suffer, but I most humbly
beseech God to pardon them for Jesus Christ's sake, and by
His only merits and precious death I know my sins are for
given me ; yea, it may be God will take me away in the
beginning of my day, it may be in this my journey. I hope
He that hath begun this mind in me will continue it in me,
and make me to walk so as I may always be ready for Him,
when He shall come, either in the public judgment of all the
world, or in private judgment to me by death. This is my
purpose, and this shall be my labour. I thank Thee, O blessed
Lord God, for of Thee cometh this mind ; it is not of myself,
but from the inspiration of Thy blessed Spirit.
" And you, my most dear parents, if God shall take me from
you now, I beseech you be of good comfort, and be not grieved
at my death, which I undoubtedly hope shall be to me the
beginning of eternal happiness, and to you no loss, for you
shall with inestimable joy receive me in the kingdom of
heaven, to reign there with you and my dearest brother,
Erasmus, and your other children that are departed in the
Lord. If I go before, you must come shortly after : think it
is but a little forbearance of me. It was God that gave me to
you, and if He take me from you, be you not only content,
but most joyful, that I am delivered from this vale of misery
and wretchedness. I know that through the infinite mercy ot
my gracious God it shall be my happiness, for I shall then, I
know, enjoy perpetual quietness and peace, and be delivered
from those continual combats and temptations which afflict
my poor soul. O Lord, Thou knowest I may truly say, that
from youth up Thy terrors have I suffered with a troubled mind.
My soul hath been almost rent through violent temptations
that have assaulted it ; for to Thy glory, O Lord, will I
confess my own weakness and the great danger Thou hast
delivered me from. It was Thou, Lord, that hast kept me, else
had they devoured my soul and made it desolate. And this God
who thus hath kept me ever since I was born, ever since I
came out of your womb, my most dear mother, will preserve

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xv
me to the end, I know, and give me grace that I shall live in
His faith, and die in His fear, and rest in His peace, and rise in
His power, and reign in His glory.
" I know, my most dear parents, your tender affection to
your children, and therefore I fear your grief if God take me
away, and therefore write and leave this, that you might know
your son's estate, and assure yourselves (for on the truth of
God's infinite mercy am I confident in the hope of my
salvation) that though he be dead to you, yet he is alive to
God. " I most humbly beseech you to pardon me in whatsoever I
have at any time displeased you, and forgive me. I most
humbly beseech God to bless and keep you, and give you a
happy life here and everlasting life in the world to come.
" Your most humble and obedient son,
"N. Farrar.
" Postscript. — My dearest brothers and dearest sisters, if I
live you shall find me a faithful, loving brother unto you all ;
if I die, I beseech you by the fear of God, by the duty to our
parents, by the bond of nature, by the love you bear me, that
you all agree in perfect love and amity, and account every one
the other's burthen to be his. So may plenty and prosperity
dwell among you. So prays your faithful, loving brother,
"N. F.
" If I die, I desire that the value of ^^5 of my books may be
given to the college. The rest I leave to my father's and
mother's disposing ; yet I desire that in them my worthy tutor
Lindsell and cousin Theophilus may be remembered ; and if
any of my sisters' sons prove a scholar, the rest may be given to
him." "This tenth day of April, 1613, being Sunday."
Contrary to his foreboding and in answer to the earnest prayers
of his parents and friends, Nicholas Ferrar lost his disposition
to ague after the sea voyage. From the time that he landed at

xvi INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
Flushing with the suite of the Princess, he was a man of note
and observation ; for whilst his biographer (Dr. Jebb) tells us
that the Princess's tour was "a triumph," and that "she was
all along royally feasted " ; he also adds that "he (Nicholas)
as an ornament of her train, was much caressed." But
Nicholas had his own purpose of life always set steadfastly in
his heart ; and although he was earnestly implored to go to
Heidelberg, where the Count Palatine kept his court, with
the assurance that he " stood fair " for the Princess's secretary ;
yet he made answer " that he aimed at lower things, and was
not qualified for such an employment." Whereupon he bade
farewell to the Princess, and pursued his travels by another
route. Even whilst in attendance on the Princess in Holland,
Nicholas found time to study the manners and industries of
the people, their forms of worship (which were very numerous),
and particularly all remarkable instances of God's providence —
" the miracles of His mercy and justice in rewards and punish
ments which are illustriously visible in the histories of every
country, though many such rich observations are buried in
oblivion among us for want of reading them." As soon as he
left the court at Amsterdam he proceeded to Hamburg, where
he was so hospitably entertained by the English merchants
that he made it a rule never to taste wine or strong liquor,
for fear he should be called upon to exceed his rule of tem
perance. "At first they tempted him, but he knew how to
defend himself, and when they discovered his temperance in
eating and drinking they left off importuning him ; acknow
ledging that ' he was in the right way, though they could not
hit it.' " At Leipzic he studied for a time at the University
and during his stay there he " made inquiries for the ablest
masters in every art, whom he would gain entirely, if gold and
good words could gain them, to teach him their mystery.
Among other curious arts which he learnt abroad he was
taught the skill of artificial memory." His fame from town
to town seemed to precede him, so that he was obliged to

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xvii
retire into some small neighbouring village, to avoid having
too many visitors.
At this time many German towns were full of the plague.
It fell out, therefore, that at one part of his journey Nicholas
was detained in quarantine for forty days, and these days, by
God's appointment doubtless, were our forty fast days in Lent.
" Here he had leisure enough to recollect his thoughts, to
revise his (shorthand) notes, and to reduce his observations
into method. He spent this time of fasting very agreeably.
In the morning he went up into a neighbouring mountain,
where abundance of wild thyme and rosemary grew ; there
with a book or two and with his God, whom he met in the
closest walks of his mind, having spent the day in reading,
meditation, and prayer, he came down in the evening to an
early supper (his only set meal) of oil and fish. He omitted
not his offices and exercises of devotion morning and evening
and at midnight in his travels, for to serve and please his Maker
was the travail of his soul. He needed not many books, who
was his own concordance, and had the New Testament in a
manner without book. And if the time and place would not
serve him to kneel, yet then and there he made the lowest
prostrations of soul and spirit."
Whilst in Italy his life was on more than one occasion, both
in sickness and accident, most miraculously preserved. He
was a man of mark wherever he went. At Padua, whilst
studying physic intensely, he became so well known that he
was overburdened by visits, especially by those of his own
countrymen ; for (as his biographer quaintly puts it) "it is the
Englishman's fault when he is abroad to lose his time in quest
of his mother tongue." Nicholas, therefore, removed into
some quiet country place, changing his residence frequently,
and then returning to Padua or Venice for a few weeks at a
time. He was exceedingly anxious to visit Rome, but was
told by some who came from the English College there that
" the Jesuits had him in the wind," and had been supplied with a
careful description of his person and manners, as they believed

xviii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
him to have come abroad with some great design. Rome was
not in those days a safe place for Protestants, but Nicholas
Ferrar contrived to travel there very privately on foot, reach
ing the great city upon Monday in Holy Week. " When
there, he changed his lodgings every night, and stayed but ten
days, which he managed as advantageously as possible to take a
view of everything very remarkable."
Leaving Rome he went to Marseilles, and after having been
detained there by a very serious illness, he set sail for Spain in
a small English vessel. Whilst on board he was the means of
delivering them, by his courage and maritime knowledge, from
becoming overpowered by a Turkish privateer, for he per
suaded them all to fight, and " was as active as any tarpaulin of
them all."
Soon after he reached Madrid, Nicholas heard by some
means that his family were involved in serious difficulties,
from which he alone could extricate them. Accepting the
situation as one which demanded immediate action, he sold
some jewels (for he was out of funds and waiting for a remit
tance from his father) and started off on foot to walk to St.
Sebastians, whence he could take ship for England. The
journey was wearisome, and beset by many dangers, and
when at length he reached the coast the winds were contrary
for some days longer. The English factors were very kind to
him, for though they knew him not, " they discerned him to
be a gentleman of very great worth and experience." Every
day they pressed him to command their purses, and at last he
was glad to accept a loan of ;^io. Many of his new friends
accompanied him aboard when a fair wind allowed him to set
sail ; so having bidden them kindly farewell, a few days brought
him safely to Dover. As soon as he had leaped ashore,
Nicholas threw himself flat upon his face and rendered most
humble thanks to God for so many preservations abroad during
the five years in which he had been absent from his native
country. " So posting from Dover to London, and finding his
father's door open, he entered the house in his Spanish habit.

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xix
His father, seeing one in that garb kneeling and begging his
blessing, demanded Who he was ; for he did not know him.
He named himself, at which the good old man, who did not
dream of his coming, felt all the transports of an affectionate
father. Thus after about five years' absence in travel he
returned home with a far better constitution than he carried
abroad, and was received by all his friends with all the satisfac
tion imaginable."
A short time after his return, Nicholas Ferrar had some
thought of going back to Cambridge ; but his parents were
now growing old, and besought him not to live from them.
His brother John was deputy of the Virginia Company, of
which Sir Edwin Sandys was Governor ; and soon Nicholas
was hard at work in the interests of this new-found world.
Within two months of his return from abroad he and Sir
Edwin Sandys had " contracted so near a friendship that they
were seldom asunder." That this friendship was of life-long
endurance there is proof in the fact that before Sir Edwin died
he charged his lady to take Nicholas Ferrar's counsel in all
her affairs. At Little Gidding Church there is still to be seen
a silver flagon, on which is inscribed, " What Sir Edwin
Sandys bequeathed To the remembrance of freindship. His
freinde hath consecrated To The Honour of God's Service,
1629." And on the handle, "For the Church of Little
Gidding in Huntingdonshyer."
Old Mr. Ferrar was himself " a lover of plantations," having
been intimate with Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir John Hawkins, Sir
Francis Drake, and other noble adventurers who could tell him
of foreign heathendom. He and his two sons, John and
Nicholas, were shareholders in the Somer Islands. We are
told that he " lent his great parlour and hall for the governors
of the Virginia Company to meet in weekly, and was much
joyed to see his son (Nicholas) as heartily affording his assis
tance to Sir Edwin as he entreated it in this hard work. Nay,
his care and charity could not confine itself to Virginia, for
he and his ingenious brother, Mr. John Ferrar, frankly

XX INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
bestowed two shares of land they had in Bermuda for the
maintenance of a free school there, whither they also sent a
great number of bibles and psalmbooks for the children." As
long as the Virginia Company existed, John and Nicholas
Ferrar worked continuously and faithfully in its behalf, and it
was no small grief to them when the Company was disbanded.
John Ferrar writes of it in the following terms : " The
Virginia business was close followed and put on Sir Edwin
Sandys and Nicholas Ferrar by that Parliament ; and the
Parliament, so sensible of the great benefit and happiness that
might in short time happen to England in many respects, and
what an affrightment the Spaniard took at the then reputation
of the action, that the House resolved to take all into their con
sideration, and the Lords joined in the business, and they would
have confirmed the company and plantation by Act of Parlia
ment. But King James then sent them a message, that he
had and would take it into his serious consideration and care, and
by the next Parliament they should all see it, he would make it one
of his masterpieces, as he said it well deserved to be. And thus
the matter then stood ; but God knows these were but fair
words, as the event showed, for all was let loose and to go to
six and seven, as the proverb is, which requires a long story,
not here to be inserted."
Whilst all this public business was being transacted, good
old Mr. Ferrar had died, in 1620, leaving his son Nicholas sole
executor, a duty which he carried out with all care, love, and
fidelity, " being a continual stay and comfort to his dear
mother." "In 1624 he was chosen a Parliament man (member for
Lymington), so great was his reputation and worth"; and
during the year that followed he was actively engaged in the
affairs of the Virginia Company. " The Parliament sat, and
Nicholas Ferrar being in many things made of the committee,
often was chosen by the committee to make report of such
things to the House. All of which he performed so well and
so pleasingly that there was great notice taken of him." Not-

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxi
withstanding all these righteous efforts, " the colony languished,
and the most flourishing plantation in the world was almost
blasted under new lords and new laws."
" If at this time his hands were full of the public business,
they were overloaden with the private affairs of his own family,
which, according to the advertisement given him abroad, he
found at his coming home involved in such difficulties as
nothing but the infinite mercies of God and the wisdom of
this great man, which was designed to be God's instrument in
it, could have wrought their deliverance." His brother John's
estate had become deeply involved through the desertion of his
friends and partners ; but Nicholas undertook the satisfaction
of his creditors, and never rested until he had freed him of all
his liabilities. It is believed that he spent ^3,000 of his own
estate before this could be effected ; and, instead of bemoaning
his own loss of money, he composed a beautiful prayer of
thanksgiving for the occasion, which was offered up solemnly
and constantly by the family on the last day of every month.
About this time two offers of advancement were made to
Nicholas Ferrar, both of which he refused. A certain Mr.
Briggs, mathematical lecturer in Gresham College, having been
appointed Savilian Professor at Oxford, strongly recommended
Mr, Ferrar to the Company of Mercers as his successor. " But
he humbly refused the offer, alleging that he had other inten
tions and aims, if it pleased God to ripen them to a happy issue."
The other offer which he declined at this time was that
made to him by a rich merchant, one of the Virginia Company,
who begged him to accept for his wife his only child and
heiress, and j^io,ooo with her. At first Nicholas told the
father that " he was not worthy to enter into the honourable
state with so much wealth " ; but the disappointed man pressed
his proposal upon him, declaring himself to be in love with
him. Whereupon Nicholas assured him that " he was resolved
not to marry at all (though he knew the world and the Church
too well to speak or think dishonourably of that estate in his
clergy friends). So resolute he was to deny himself in any-

xxii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
thing that might in the least obstruct his great design of
retiring and sharing his estate, so as to enjoy it only in common
with his many relations."
In 1625 the great plague broke out in London, and a
death having occurred next door, Nicholas conveyed his aged
mother to her daughter's house at Bourne, in Cambridgeshire.
He would not quit the town himself, even when there died
4,000 a week, until he had paid all debts and cleared the estate
of all engagements.
His mother had bought a lordship the year before — Little
Gidding, in Huntingdonshire — to which he dismissed his
brother John, to make ready a place of quarantine for himself,
as he feared the infection for his mother, and entreated her to
remain a month longer at Bourne. However, she so greatly
longed to see him after all the risks he had encountered for the
sake of herself and the rest of her family, that she rode to
Gidding, fifteen miles from Bourne, within three days of his
arrival there. Their meeting is graphically described : "Their
greeting was like that of old Jacob and his son Joseph, after
his father had given him over for lost, while he was providing
for the support of the family. Such an interview must needs
be passionately kind and zealously devout, both of them blessing
God, and she again and again blessing her son."
Mrs. Ferrar's first care was to go into the church and
there return humble thanks to Almighty God for His mercies
before entering the house. But Nicholas prevented her, saving
that the church had been profanely used as a barn and hog-
stye, and needed cleansing. Upon this his mother was the
more urgent, and having made an entrance, she knelt, weepino-
and praying, for a quarter of an hour, after which she
entreated her son to have the church cleansed without delay ;
upon which business the workmen entered on the followino-
day. " A month being overpast, and no danger appearing o"f
infection by her son's coming out of the fatal city, she sent for
her children and grandchildren and other her dear relations from
Bourne, that they all might hve and serve God together at this

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxiii
their new purchase. Seating themselves there, it required much
cost and time to repair the old crazy house, and to make it a
convenient habitation for a religious and numerous family
(consisting of above forty persons), of whom above half were
so descended from the old gentlewoman that they kneeled to
her morning and evening for her blessing. Then Mr. Nicholas
Ferrar, who was as it were the soul that inspirited the whole
family with piety, began to bring all their affairs, both spiritual
and temporal, into as good order as could be expected and as
the sadness of the times did either permit or exact of them ;
the church being now made fit for use, and in those additions
of structure or ornament which were made to the church there
were none of the family that had not a hand, and they that
through absence could not do it themselves had a stone laid by
some other hands."
The vicar of Steeple Gidding, their next parish, proved so
friendly that he and they were a blessing to each other. The
prayers of the Church were divided into services for three times
a day, Nicholas Ferrar having obtained special leave from
Bishop Williams (the bishop of the diocese, and an old acquain
tance) to have the litany used daily, " it being the time of the
plague, and the deplorable city now the common object of
the kingdom's prayers." The vicar of Steeple Gidding, "like
a true spiritual guide, walked with his own flock after him to
officiate at that church. Thus they began already to taste the
delicious fruits of peace and quietness, and they found by this
little experience how much the pleasant solitariness of the
place (for their family was in a manner all the parish) contri
buted to the serenity of their thoughts and the piety of their
devotions. At this rate they spun out that part of the un
healthy summer and all the long winter at Gidding."
In the following year, at Easter, Mrs. Ferrar went to
London, to bid farewell to all her friends there, " expecting to
see them no more till the great Easter morning at the resurrec
tion " ; for she had resolved to remain at Little Gidding, by
God's grace, for the remainder of her life, and there to be

xxiv INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
buried. The great house in London was let, and all things in
order for her return to Gidding a fortnight after Whitsuntide.
As Whitsunday drew near, Nicholas Ferrar came " to a full
determination of entering into that religious life which he had
so long and so ardently thirsted after." For a week before
hand he fasted much and slept little ; and spent Whitsim-eve
in his room in prayer. All this attracted not the notice of his
friends, because he had often done so before. He acquainted
no one with his intention except his old tutor. Dr. Lindsell,
" who was ravished with joy " ; but early on Trinity Sunday
morning he went to King Henry the Seventh's Chapel at
Westminster Abbey with Dr. Lindsell, and was there ordained
deacon by Bishop Laud, who received him with great joy,
believing that he was about to lay his hands on a very extra
ordinary person. The same evening Nicholas Ferrar went to
his mother and asked leave to read to her a paper written on
vellum and signed by himself ; " it was the solemn vow he had
made to Almighty God, that since He had afforded so many
gracious deliverances from so many perilous attempts of the devil
and man upon his soul and body, and since now his family was
rescued from a ruin so deplorable and unavoidable, if God had not
been infinitely good to them; he would now separate himself to serve
God in this holy calling, to be the Levite himself in his own house,
and to make his own relations, which were many, his cure of souls."
His mother, and those of his relations who were present, were
amazed and delighted. His good old mother wept, beseeching
Almighty God " to fill him every day more and more with His
Holy Spirit, and to grant him a long life, as an unspeakable
blessing to her and her whole family. They all answered him
that they also hy God^s assistance would set themselves with greater
care and diligence than ever to attend the one thing necessary."
The news of this step soon reached the city and Court
and Nicholas was offered preferment in the Church, which it
was supposed he would not refuse, although he had declined
advancement in the State. But he had not undertaken that
which he would lightly lay aside. " He returned his most

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxv
humble acknowledgments to those honourable peers, promising
to pray for their prosperity, but as he had already parted with
all propriety in his temporal estate by sharing it equally with his
kindred for their common good, so he would employ his talent or
half-talent (for he alone had a mean opinion of his own abilities)
to make them partakers of the true spiritual treasures."
So, having bidden farewell to the world in that great city of
London, they returned to Gidding, where Mrs. Ferrar set
about beautifying their Httle church. The floor was boarded
and the walls wainscotted. On Sundays and Saints' Days
the cedar wood communion table was adorned with " carpets
of blue silk embroidered with gold." The pulpit and reading-
desk — of the same height — were hung with fine blue cloth,
" richly laced and fringed with vallans about each of them."
The floor upon which the altar stood was raised, and covered
with " sky-coloured silk," and the benches round the chancel
with " blue taffety." On week days the carpets were of
tapestry and green cloth. " There was a brass font set up,
and a large eagle of the same to hold a fair Bible. She
thought the house of God the only place on which such costly
furniture was not ill bestowed ; and in this her son not only
approved but animated her devotion."
As soon as the church was in order, a school was provided,
for which purpose an ancient dove-house was dispigeoned ;
for, having no harvest of their own, they did not think it fair
to " harbour so many little thieves to devour their neighbours'
corn." To this schoolhouse the children from other parishes
had liberty to come and be trained with their own children ;
" where they might learn virtue as well as grammar, music,
and arithmetic, together with fair writing." For all his nieces
and female relations Nicholas Ferrar provided rooms and out-
of-door pleasure grounds to suit all ages and conditions ; for
the three schoolmasters and the boys " convenient lodgings "
were fitted up, his own room being placed in the midst of the
house, so that " he could hear and see good order observed."
One room was kept as an infirmary, " that if any of all his

xxvi INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
young company should fall sick they might be removed
thither out of harm's way." Ample provision was made for
recreation, for running, vaulting, and shooting at butts with
bows and arrows.
The young women, of whom there were nine or ten,
always wore black stuff, " all of one grave fashion, always the
same, with comely veils on their heads. They were curious
at their needles, and they made their scissors to serve the altar
or the poor. They were fine surgeons, and they kept by
them all manner of salves, oils, and balsams : a room they had
on purpose to lock up these and cordial waters of their own
distilling. All which, being as freely given by them to the
country folks as themselves freely received all from God and
their kind uncle, they were sure not to want customers ;
which every year cost them a good round sum. None of
them were nice of dressing with their own hands poor people's
wounds, were they never so offensive ; but as for prescribing
physic, their uncle understood it well himself, yet he never
practised it, and he forbid them to tamper or meddle with it.
And together with helps for the body the virgins were expert
and ready to administer good counsels, prayers, and comforts
to their patients for their souls' health. ^ To take off the
' In 1642, when the King visited Little Gidding for the second
time, he was seated in the great Parlour, examining the Great
Book that was being made for the Prince, with the latter (Prince
Charles, of Wales) on one side of him and the Palsgrave on the
other ; the Palsgrave " went to one of the Gentlewomen, and
taking her by the Hand, said Lady, you shall do me the favour to
go and shew me the Fine Almes-house that your grandmother
erected for 4 poor widows as I have been told : so she led him
through the room into it : and the other courtiers followed to see
it." ..." Then said the Palsgrave (to the King) Sir, there is one
thing more worth your seeing : what's that said the King ? The
curious lodgings in the Alms-house provided for 4 poor widows,
by the Old Gentlewoman Mother of the Family : what said the
King, have you been there already before me : I meant to sec them
before I went : Sr., I will lead you the way, said the Palsgrave :
so the King followed : then coming into the room, I will believe

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxvii
burthen of household affairs from his aged mother's shoulders,
her son ordered his four nieces to be the managers ; yet so as
it might prove a burthen to none of them, but rather a
recreation to them all, he contrived that every sister should be
sole governess but one month in four, and then Mary's better
part was not to be taken away from her who acted the part or
their Martha. Nor was she often called away, being not to
apply her hands to anything servile, but only to carry in her
head, to give the servants directions and cause herself to be
obeyed by them, to book every 'farthing of their weekly
expenses, allowing every small matter its column in their
account-book ; so they could cast an eye on what they gained
or spent in every little necessary at the end of the month or
year. This made his nieces, several of whom resolved to
marry, not only perfect accountants but good housewives too.
The land was all let out in parcels to their tenants, who by
agreement were to serve the house with some provisions at
constant rates. Their diet was neat and frugal, yet with
variety enough accommodated to every one's health and
constitution."
Weekly Routine at Little Gidding.
Sunday.
4 a.m. in summer.) They all rose, and having quietly
5 A.M. in winter. J dressed, the daughters and younger
children resorted to the great room,i and there repeated to
your Judgmt. another time said the King : Its passing neat and
well kept, and of good Example ; Sr., said one, it resembles much
the Chapel, each being all wainscotted and pillared and arched : Sr.,
said the Palsgrave to the King, Oh how often should I have been
glad to have had such a Lodging : I believe you, replied the King,
so going out at the back-door into the garden." (From an old
contemporary MS. in the possession of Sir Richard Tangye.)
" The "great room " was handsomely furnished with hangings ;
at its upper end was "a great large compass window" looking out

xxviii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
Nicholas Ferrar (who was always ready for them) "such
chapters and psalms as each were to give an account of with
out book." They then retired "and made their selves all
more comely in their best attires."
9 A.M. The bell rang to church. All the family assembled
in the great room and sang a hymn to the organs ; " which
ended, each person said some sentence of scripture, such as they
thought good, and so all went down to church in decent order,
two and two together, the three masters in gowns leading the
way, the young youths in black gowns following them.
Nicholas Ferrar led his mother, his two brothers, John
Ferrar and Mr. Collet, going before her (after the children),
and then followed their sister Collet and her daughters, and
so all the servants, two by two : each as they came into the
church making low obeisance,' taking their places, the masters
in the chancel, and the boys kneeling upon the upper step,
which ascended up into the chancel from the church ; the
reading-place and pulpit standing, each opposite to the other,
by two pillars, at the ascent into the chancel, the one on the
right hand, the other on the left, close to each side of the wall :
old Mrs. Ferrar and all her daughters going into an isle of the
church, that joined on the north side, close at the back of the
reading-place, where all the women sat always. Nicholas
Ferrar being in his surplice and hood (for so in it he always
went to church) stepped up into the reading- place, and there
upon the church, which stood at the end of the garden, and in
this window stood each little company whose turn it was to recite
the hour's service. In the midst of the room stood a little table,
" at which stood a great chair (upon which table lay the Holy
Bible and a Common Prayer-Book). There each standing at the
back of the chair, said some one sentence of Scripture," &c. In
this room, also, the family always assembled before going to
Church, ' "At the entering thereof (that is, of the church) he (N. F,)
made a low obeisance ; a few paces farther, a lower ; coming to the
half-pace (which was at the east end, where the table stood) he
bowed to the ground, if not prostrated himself."

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxix
they said divine service, and responses were made by all present,
and the reading psalms were done so.
This performed, being returned home, those that had the
office (which were the elder nieces and some others of the family)
in summer time went and sat in a gallery, in winter in a room
where a good fire was. Then they called the psalm-children
to them, to hear them repeat their psalms. A penny was given
to every child for each psalm well repeated.
10.30 A.M. The minister of Steeple Gidding, having
repeated divine service in his own church first, came to Little
Gidding with his parishioners. The bell then rang, and the
family with the psalm-children met him. Nicholas Ferrar
read the second service "at the communion-table with an
audible voice," a psalm was sung, and the Vicar preached.
12 NOON. The psalm-children dined, standing on each side
of long tressel tables. Mrs. Ferrar and her daughters and
others were present until grace had been said, and the servants
had " brought in the baked pudding and other meat, the old
gentlewoman setting the first dish upon the table." After
grace, some of the family remained until the children had
finished, when they were dismissed to go to their homes and
attend afternoon service with their parents in their own parish
churches. Meanwhile, dinner was being served in the great dining-
room,' a hymn having been first sung, accompanied by the
organs. After dinner, every one did as they pleased.
2 P.M. The bell rang, all the family assembled and went to
Steeple Gidding Church, a distance of a quarter of a mile, to
hear a sermon. On their return they went up into the great
' " In the great dining-room, which was also the receptacle for
strangers, there were divers tablets, fairly written in great letters,
hung round the room ; which were of the same use with the
travellers' table-books, to receive any sentence their friends and
visitants had a mind to insert or by way of good counsel bestow
upon them."

xxx INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
room, and all the psalms which on week-days were said at set
hours were repeated at one time. This done, every one did as
they pleased.
5 P.M. in summer.) Supper-time. The bell rang, the family
6 P.M. in winter. J assembled in the great parlour, and sang
while the meal was being set on the table.
At supper one of them read aloud a chapter, " and then
another that had supped went to the desk and read a storv out
of the Book of Martyrs."
" Supper done, grace said, in summer all again went out
where they pleased ; in winter they warmed themselves if they
pleased, a great fire being made in the room to heat it all over ;
those that would, had candles and went away, and Nicholas
Ferrar, his mother, and the elder people found some good dis
course or other to pass the time with."
8 P.M. Prayers in the great room. Then the children
asked the old gentlewoman's blessing, and went to bed.
Every one bid each other good-night, and the elder ones
went to their chambers or closets — " for it was an order
that none must after prayers go up and down, but keep
their chambers."
Sunday's work was so arranged that no servant was kept
from church, and as much freedom as possible was given from
bodily employments. For dinner, ovens were heated, and the
food set in them before church-time. After evening service,
" the spits were laid down for meat to be roasted at the fire "
for supper.
On the first Sunday in the month, as well as on all the
great festivals, the Holy Communion was celebrated in Little
Gidding Church ; and on that day the ser\ants (having com
municated) stood at the lower end of the table, and dined with
the family.
Week Days.

4 A.M. in summer.
5 A.M. in winter.

They rose, and as soon as dressed
went to the great room to recite their

psalms and chapters to Nicholas Ferrar.

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxxi
6 A.M. At this hour the short services, recited throughout
the day at almost every hour, began. There were certain
psalms for each hour of the day, and also one of the heads of
the concordance '- of the four evangelists to be recited ; after
which the following hymn was sung to the organ : —
Thus angels sang, and so do we.
To God on high all glory be :
Let Him on earth His peace bestow,
And unto men His favour show.
Each of these hourly services occupied but a quarter of an
hour ; the elder nieces and others of the family were divided
in companies, to recite the services by turns.
All the family went to the church, which was only about
40 paces from the house, three times a day, viz., for matins, at
about 6.30 a.m. ; for the litany only, at 10 a.m., and for even
song at 4 p.m.
After matins all the family seem to have attended the 7
o'clock hourly service in the great room, and then the chil
dren's breakfast took place. As soon as it was over, the young
' The Concordance of Mr. Ferrar's making,
"The book was divided into 140 heads. He every day spent
one hour in contriving it, and directed his nieces that attended him
in what manner they should cut the pieces out of the Evangelist,
and so and so to lay them together as to make and perfect such a
head or chapter. When they had first cut out those pieces with
their knives or scissors, then they did neatly and exactly fit each
verse that was so cut out to be pasted down on sheets of paper ; and
so artificially they performed it, that it looked like a new kind of
printing to all who saw the books when they were finished ; so
finely were all the pieces joined together, and with great presses for
that purpose pressed down upon the white sheets of paper. . , .
But the work grew daily into greater perfection by the care and
judgment of Mr. Ferrar ; nay, the old gentlewoman herself became
a handicraft-woman to help it forward."
The heads of the Concordance were so arranged, that the whole
of it was recited once. a month.

xxxii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
children, and the youths with their masters went off to the
schoolhouse, " which was near adjoining to the house."
" The old gentlewoman set herself down in a chair, and this
was her constant place for most part of the time any were there,
and some or other of her daughters : her grandchildren were
always there. Others, as young or old and such as were too
young to go to school yet, sat there, and in great silence, either
at their book or otherwise ; and the others, some to their
needleworks, others to learn what they were to say the next
day. And each hour had commonly some employment or
other for them; the making the concordance' (i.e., a Harmony
of the Gospels), their singing, their playing on their instruments,
their writing, ciphering ; and so never idle. And for the
variety of employments, Nicholas Ferrar ' entertained a book
binder's daughter, of Cambridge, to learn of her the skiU and
art of bookbinding and gilding, and grew very expert at it, as
the king, having received books of her binding, said, he never
saw the like workmanship."
11.15 A.M. Dinner was served at this hour as soon as
the 1 1 o'clock service had been recited. The order of dinner
and supper was always the same : a hymn sung with organs
playing to it while the meat was being set on the table.
Grace said, all standing ; after some time they all sat down,
and one whose turn it was read at dinner and supper-time
some part of history, such as was appointed ; either some
chronicles of nations, journeys by land, sea voyages, and the
' The "Concordance Chamber" was a "long, fair, spacious room,
wherein were large tables round the sides of the walls, placed for
their better conveniency and contrivement of their works." In it,
also, were " two very large and great presses, which were turned
with iron bars, for the effecting of their designs," The walls were
"all coloured over with green pleasant colour varnished, for the
more pleasure to their eyes, and a chimney in it for warmth, as
occasion served," Each member of the family and "some other
good friends of their kindred, gave each their sentence which
should be v.'ritten round the upper part of the walls of the
room."

EiKON Basilike.
Bowid at Little Gidding by Mary Collet.

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxxiii
like. The reasons and the method of them I shall, for the
better satisfaction of the historian, set down.
" Finding silence at meals-time unpleasant, and common discourse
for the most part unprofitable, it is agreed that there shall be
always something read during meal-times. And because the mind,
then being in most men altogether intent upon the refreshment of
their bodies, doth not willingly admit any serious speculation, it
IS thought fit that the reading shall be always of some easy and
delightful matter, such as are history and relations of particular
actions and persons, such as may not only furnish the mind with
variety of knowledge in all kinds, but also stir up the affections
to the embracements of virtue. The -performance of this shall
he by the two young daughters and four boys, every one in their
course, whereby a particular benefit it is hoped will arise to the
whole, and they shall by these means be brought to read any book
well and gracefully. They that are to read shall immediately
upon the coming into the dining-roo?n have a mess of broth sent
them, which when they have eaten, they shall begin their reading,
standing at the north end of the table, and continue so reading
until the rest of the children have supped ; when another, after
they have repeated their gospels, shall take the book, and the
first go to their meal and, in regard of their forbearance, shall
always have the advantage of some more than their fellows had.
For the hetter retaining in memory of that which shall he read, it
is agreed that a summary collection shall be kept in writing of
those things which are judged worthy of observation out of that
book. The drawing of this abstract shall be the work of one
of the parents or masters, but the transcribing it fair may
be by any of the children ; and every noon, presently after collation,
shall be made a repetition of that which was formerly read. The
manner of this repetition, whether it shall be hy examination
of the younger, or by the elders relating it and application of
things, is left to the judgment of the directors of those exercises
to proceed according as the nature of the subject, time, persons
and other occasions shall require. The ordinary and constant
charge of this matter is committed to John and Mary Ferrar

xxxiv INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
and for assistance and supply when they cannot, to Susanna Collet ;
the mother and the eldest daughters are desired always, as occasion
serves, to give their help."
" When dinner and supper were ended the reader ceased ;
and then, grace said, one boy, whose turn it was that meal,
repeated a story without book, such as Nicholas Ferrar had
compiled for them, and fitting their capacities. These were
short, pleasant, and profitable ; good language and no less
good matter, teaching them something of worth, exciting
to virtue and the hatred of vice : and by this the young
ones learned to speak gracefully and courageously."
After dinner and these performances every one did as they
pleased. I P.M. The bell tolled for the boys to go to school. Mrs.
Ferrar sat till 4 o'clock in the great chamber, superintending,
as before, the employments of the hours.
4 P.M. Evensong at the church.
5 P.M. Supper in the great parlour, after which they were
all at liberty to do as they would.
8 P.M. The bell rang to prayers in the great chamber.
Then the children went to bed, and the elders to their own
rooms, as on Sunday.
The Night Vigils.
Nicholas Ferrar always considered that he and his family
had received extraordinary favours and blessings of God, for
which they were bound to render Him thanks beyond that
which was the usual practice or custom amongst men. In this
he was approved and confirmed by the opinion of grave and
learned divines whom he consulted, and he was also acting
" upon the invitation of that worthy servant of Christ, Mr.
George Herbert,' his most entire friend and brother (for
' Nicholas Ferrar and George Herbert held great intercourse
by letter and " loved each other entirely," but John Ferrar mentions
their " having but once had personal conference with each other."

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxxv
so they styled each other)." He therefore established a regular
course of nightly vigils in his house, in which he was
gladly joined by many members of his household. All were
free to please themselves in this matter, and none were thought
less well of for not taking a part. Every night two watchers
at least took their turns ; they began at nine at night and
continued their prayers until one in the morning. The
watchers kept in their several apartments or oratories, the
men's rooms being far removed from the women's. Some
times the watch was kept by one of the daughters, with
a sister or else one of the maidservants who desired to watch.
At other times one of the men would keep the vigil, assisted
by one at least of the boys, for they were always eager to
be allowed to watch with their elders, although their uncle
did not permit them to do so more than once a week, nor
were the young women allowed to watch oftener. At one
o'clock they knocked at Nicholas Ferrar's door (if it was not
his vigil), bidding him good morrow and placing a lighted
candle outside, for it was his custom to rise at that hour,
go to his study, and continue in prayer and meditation until
si}{ o'clock. Twice in the week he took the vigil, and in
later years three times. In the summer time he and the boys
kept their watch in the church ; at one o'clock the latter laid
themselves down upon a bench to sleep, whilst their uncle
continued his prayers and meditations ; they did not leave the
church until five o'clock. " Now the matter was this they
chiefly insisted on in their watch, and was the length of
it : that they two that watched should carefully and distinctly
say all David's psalms over in those four hours' time, from
Both John and Nicholas Ferrar assisted Mr. Herbert considerably
in carrying out the work of restoration at Leighton Church, in
which they were also subsequently helped by their cousin, Mr.
Woodnoth, When Mr. Herbert died (in 1633) he bequeathed to
" his dear brother Ferrar " the manuscript of his poem " The
Temple," of which Nicholas brought out two editions in the course
of a year.

xxxvi INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
nine to one o'clock, they having both a glass and the clocks to
let them know how the night passed away. One of the
watchers said one verse of the psalm and the other the other
verse interchangeably by way of responsal. They performed
it on their knees all the time, except at some spaces of time
and intermission which they used, when they in winter went
to the fire to warm themselves, when extreme weather was.
For in their rooms near them they had fires all night, and
were otherwise provided that they took no cold to endanger
their health, of which Nicholas Ferrar in all things was most
careful. These watchers went not to their naked beds at all,
but lay down upon them till six o'clock and then rose. This
was to inure them, upon any occasion that might happen,
that they could do well without going into a bed."

They kept up a fair amount of visiting with their neigh
bours, though it soon became understood that they did not
wish to go abroad often to see them ; but whenever any
of them were pleased to afford their company at Little Gidding
Hall, they were civilly and pleasantly treated. A glass of
wine or tankard of ale was always offered to all comers of any
note ; many came for the novelty of the thing, many more
because they knew the merit of Nicholas Ferrar, and esteemed
it an honour to become acquainted with him. Hardly a day
passed in which some considerable person did not come to visit
him, so that he had hundreds and thousands of \isitors at
several times. "Several persons of honour and manv great
scholars of other persuasions (Romish priests and the like)
addressed themselves to discourse with him and discover his
opinions, in which he had no reserves as one exactly well
set in his principles for the most Apostolic Church of
England." On one occasion the family were to have been honoured by
a visit from the Queen, but the roads were impassable when
the visit was planned. Her Majesty, having heard from the

INTRODUCTORY- SKETCH xxxvii
King that there was "a Protestant family that outdid the
severest monastics abroad," despatched a gentleman to Little
Gidding to observe all that he could of their manner of living, and
" to bring her a clear account of their manner of life ; which
he did so much to the admiration of the Oueen, that she very
much regretted the disappointment of her own journey."
\Vhen the King's standard was set up at Nottingham,
however, being told on his journey that he was not far from
Little Gidding, his Majesty rode thither with the Prince of
^Vales, Prince Rupert, the Duke of Richmond, and many
other valiant and noble men. The King spent his time in
reading their harmonies of the gospel, whilst the rest of the
party visited various rooms and partook of refreshments. The
family presented the King with some devout books which they
had bound, concerning which he was pleased to say " he never
saw such workmanship." "At parting, he prayed the blessing
of God might be upon them, and he desired their hearty prayers ;
wherein they never failed him at the public offices in their
little chapel, till by the fury of the oppressor they were driven
away." In 1634 old Mrs. Ferrar died, after a peaceful and good old
age enjoyed at Little Gidding, where she had been the loved
ruler and example of her children and grandchildren. The
household changed from time to time, as its younger members
grew up and went out into the busy world. But the religious,
happy life continued, and reflected its holy influence on all
aiound it. Of the poor we learn that " the adjoining ministers,
when they came to Gidding, protested that a mighty change
zvas wrought not only on the children, but on the men and women
who sat hearing their children reading and repeating at home. And
whereas heretofore their tongues -ivcrc exercised in singing either
naughty or lewd or else vain ballads that much estranged their
young minds from the ways of virtue, now they heard the streets
and doors resounding with the sacred poetry of David's harp which
drove away the evil spirit frotn Saul."
Of the many visitors to Nicholas Ferrar, we are told that

xxxviii INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
" seldom any parted from him but with satisfaction, and it can
hardly be imagined what lasting fervours of devotion many
carried away with them that spent but a few hours in that
happy society. For it was one establishment in this family,
which had set itself thus heartily for heaven, whatever strangers
were in the house (though some perhaps of a different com
munion), yet that they would keep their set times of going to
prayers in the church. And if such as came to see their
devotions were pleased to join with them, they were a great
deal the more welcome on that account."
Some men of birth and fortune actually feigned having lost
their way in the dark and strayed to the house to beg for
a night's shelter, whilst they had really sent their servants on
to a neighbouring village to wait them there next morning.
Their stratagem succeeded, and they were quickly set down
to a good supper.
Every day Mr. Ferrar would himself interview those poor
people who came to the house for relief ; he would inquire
who were sick in any of the neighbouring villages, and send
them comforts. " He made the point of applying the best
remedies to wounded consciences one great and main end of
his studies, and with his most affectionate pains would assist
others in these distresses, till he had, as it were, begotten them
anew to God. He understood it the better as having under
gone himself, in his own tender age, many and grievous
temptations." It was in the year 1637 that Nicholas Ferrar was taken
from his earthly home to a better and a heavenly one. His
illness was but of a month's duration : on Friday, November
the 3rd, he began to suffer from fainting fits, and at once
made provision for the continuation of the daily services at
Little Gidding Church, feeling assured that he should not any
more be able to perform his part there. Some three days
before his death, lying in his bed about 8 o'clock in the
morning, he called his brother, John Ferrar, his sister Collet
and all his nieces to him, saying, Brother, I would have you

INTRODUCTORY SKETCH xxxix
go to the church, and at the luest end of the door, where we go
into the church, I would have you measure from the half pace,
where we go into the church, of stone you tread upon seven foot to
the westward, and at the end of that seven foot there let my grave
be made. His brother, looking very sadly upon him, with his
eyes full of tears (and so all the standers-by did), he went on,
saying, 'Brother, that first place of the length of seven foot I leave
for your own burying-place, you are my elder ; God, I hope, will let
you there take up your resting-place, till we all rise again with joy.
TVhen you have measured out the place for my grave, then go and
take out of my study those three great hampers full of books that
have stood there locked up these many years. Carry, said he,
those hampers to the place of my grave, and upon it see you burn
them all; and this he spake with some vehemency and passion
of indignation. Go, let it be done, let it be done, and then come
again all of you to me. So it was performed, and a great smoke,
bonfire, and flame they made ; and it being upon a hill, the
towns round about and men in the fields came running up to
the house, supposing some great fire had happened at Little
Gidding. When they saw what was doing, that it was an
infinite sort of books burning, and that Mr. Nicholas Ferrar
was like to die, as they heard, they went their ways home, and
within a few days it was by rumour spread abroad at market-
towns all the country over that Mr. Nicholas Ferrar lay a-dying,
but could not die till he had burned all his conjuring-books, and
had made a great fire of them upon the grave he would be buried
in." (See " Story Books," vol. i. p. 1 19 rf seq^ On Sunday, the
3rd of December (Advent Sunday), he received his last Com
munion, after making " a full and lively confession of his faith
and state of soul." Throughout the day " he applied himself
again to the work in which he resolved to live and die, and
that was confirming his family in the ways of piety, more
particularly directing this last sermon of his to his most beloved
nieces, his two virgin disciples, that they should be steadfast and
commit themselves to the guidance of their Lord God and Jesus Christ
their Master." At one o'clock on Monday morning, December

xl INTRODUCTORY SKETCH
the 4th, whilst the prayer was being used by those who knelt
round his bed, " that God would be pleased to send His holy
angels to carry his soul to heaven," he was taken from them,
at the very hour at which he constantly rose to praise God and
to pray to Him.
" As one of the company said, He ended the Christian Sabbath
upon earth to begin the everlasting one in heaven"
" His body is buried in peace, but his name liveth for ever
more."

Little Gidding Church.
Showing the graves of John and Nicholas Ferra

INTRODUCTION TO THE STORY
BOOKS.
The origin of the Religious Exercises contained in these
Story Books has been well described by Dr. Jebb, who
prefaces his account of them with a paragraph on the versatility
of Nicholas Ferrar's mind. " Though he was far from one
of the volatile or bird-witted (as one ingeniously calls that
sort of men that are ever hopping from bough to bough,
and can never fix upon anything), yet he would never be
long in any of his studies or in any employment, but keep
(as exactly as his many accidental occasions would give him
leave) such and such hours for such and such affairs ; and
out of doubt this was best for his body and mind. 'Tis certain
he found a real advantage in shifting the scenes, besides a new
pleasure and refreshment at every turn, though, if occasion
were, he could set himself day and night to any task and
never give over till he could say ' ' Tis perfect.^ "
One of these diversions was the compilation of divine
interludes, dialogues, and discourses in the Platonic way,
planned by him for the purpose of warning his family from
the " Christmas games and wilder sports, which could hardly
subsist without riot and extravagant license. On All Saints'
Day they began, and at Christmas, on every holiday, they
proceeded in gracefully repeating and acting their Christian
histories, taken both out of ancient and modern historians,"
and framed (we are told) in opposition to the legends of
Rome.

xlii INTRODUCTION TO THE STORY BOOKS
These stories were carefully copied out by each nctor from
Nicholas Ferrar's transcription of them, and generally com
mitted to memory. But now and then, through want of
time, or inability to learn the task, the story was read aloud
(see Story Books, p. 82). At the end of each recital there
was a free discussion of the lessons to be learnt from the day's
storying, except on rare occasions when the stories occupied
so much time in the telling that the usual debate had to be
abandoned (see p. 138).
The younger members of the Little Academy were treated
with leniency ; their stories were often vcvy short, and some
times they had already been related by one of their ciders (see
PP- 36, 37> 57);
At another time the singing of a hymn would be accepted
as a sufficient contribution towards the day's entertainment
(see p. 88).
As to the manner in which the story books were compiled,
it is quite evident that Nicholas Ferrar, the Visitour, and
master of the ceremonies, took careful notes of each day's
proceedings, or deputed some one else to do so ; after which
he formed them into "colloquies, with forcible applications
of all to their own circumstances ; and for that very reason
(because they are so adapted to the private constitution of this
family) the books themselves (which are two or three large
folios) are not fit to be published, though they are well and
properly worded."
This is the account given of them by Dr. Jebb, who
also writes in an early part of the same memoir, concerning
Mrs. Collet's daughters, " If ever women merited the title
of the devout sex, these gentlewomen won it by their carriage
and deserved to wear it ; though to come to many par
ticulars would so oppress the modesty of some yet alive
that such instances of their devotion are not yet to be
made public."
After the lapse of 260 years all details which would once
have been accounted too personal for publication have now

INTRODUCTION TO THE STORY BOOKS xhii
become historical ; and it is with the cordial consent of
the present representatixes of the ftimily that these records
of the conversations and aims of the Little Gidding Academy
are for the first time published in their entirety.
The importance which was attached to the continuance
of these religious exercises by those who in the first instance
promoted them, is worthy of attention. Just before the death
of old Mrs. Ferrar, in 1634, when these meetings had, from
one impediment and another, been discontinued for more than
two years, " finding that the intimation of her desires by word
of mouth did not prevail for the renewing and prosecution
of this intermitted work, she proceeded to the expressing
of them by writing, with such lowliness of intreaty where
she had the right of command, as the particular declaration
thereof (so writes Nicholas Ferrar after his mother's death),
oppressing the modestie of the surviving, must be buried in
her grave." In this paper she enjoined all her family to
bring about, as much as lay in their power, " a full accomplish
ment of all those holy desires which she made overture of;
amongst which this of storying being found upon record,
signed with her own hand, to be one of the principal that she
intended, it \vas concluded that it must necessarily be pro
ceeded in " (see Story Books, vol. ii. part 2, Brit. Mus.).
Nicholas Ferrar, also, when he lay a-dying, counselled
the youngei- members of his family to "remember all tliat
he taught them in their books called the children's morning
and night precepts, and their story books, and to keep in
heart diligently their psalms and concordances" (see John
Ferrar's Life of his Brother).

THE LITTLE ACADEMY

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
FIRST VOLUME
The Founder, Grandmother, or Mother . Mrs. Ferrar.
The Guardian . . ¦ ¦ John Ferrar.
The Visitour  Nicholas Ferrar.
The Good Wife . . . Susanna Mapletoft (nee Collet)
(though not mentioned in these volumes).
First Combination.
The Foure Mayden Sisters.

The Cheife
Ihe Patient
The Cheerefull \
The Affectionate f

Mary Collet,
Anna Collet.
Margaret and Elizabeth Collet
(which was the former and which
the latter does not transpire).

The Moderatour
The Obedient
The Submiss

Second Combination.

Mrs. Collet (nee Susanna Ferrar).
Two of the three Younger Sister.^,
Hester, Joyce, and Judith.

SECOND VOLUME
The Cheife becomes The Mother in the place of her Grandmother,
who resigns.
71?e Humble . Ann Mapletoft, seventh child of Mrs. Joshua
Mapletoft (tiee Susanna Collet),

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FACSIMILE of THE UPPER PART OF A PAGE OF THE FIRST VOLUME OF THE STORIES (BRITISH MUSEUm) IN THE
HANDWRITING OF NICHOLAS FERRAR.

CONTENTS

FIRST VOLUME OF THE MANUSCRIPT

I

PAGE

The Feast of the Purification, 1630 (1631) . i
II
Ash Wednesday, 1630 (1631) . . .3
III
Easter, 1631 . . . . . .11
IV
Christmastide, 1631 — ^St. Stephen's Day . 19
V
Christmastide, 1631 — St. John the Evangelist's
Day ...... 39
VI
Christmastide, 1631 — -Holy Innocents' Day . 59
VII
Christmastide, 1631, December 29TH . . 72
xlvii

xlviii CONTENTS VIII PAGE
Christmastide, 1631 . . . -9^
IX
Christmastide, 1631 . . . -103
SECOND VOLUME OF THE MANUSCRIPT
X
St. Luke's Day, 1632 . . . -154
XI
All Saints' Day, 1632 . . . . ij^
XII
St. Andrew's Day, 1632 .... 208
XIII
Christmastide, 1632 .... 246
XIV
Christmastide, 1632 — St. John the Evangelist's
Day ...... 267
XV
Christmastide, 1632 — Holy Innocents' Day . 279

Eikon Basilike. Bound at Little Gidding, by Mary
Collet ...... xxxii
Little Gidding Church. Showing the graves of
John and Nicholas Ferrar . . . xl
Facsimile of Part of a Page of the First
Volume of the Stories in Nicholas Ferrar's
Handwriting . . . . .xiv
Mrs. Ferrar. From the picture by Janssen in the
possession of Lady Lyell, painted in her sixty-second
year ...... I
Mrs. Collet and Child. From the picture in the
possession of Lady Lyell . . . .154

INSCRIPTION AND LETTERS IN FIRST
VOLUME.
Johannes Collet,
Filius
Thomce Collet,
Pater
Thomce, Gulielmi, & Johannis,
Omnium Superstes
Natus
Quarto Junij, 1633,
Denasciturus
OuANDO DEO visum fuerit.
Interim hujus proprietarius,
John Collet.
Elizabeth Kestian given me by my dear cosen John Collet.
I desier it to be given to my dear cosen Dr. John Mapletoft.
Most Deare and Honoured Grandmother,
The finishing of this Book in the return of the self
same Festival in which it began, having, amongst many other
Considerations, brought to remembrance the Love you that
Day shewed in bestowing the best of your Roomes and
Furniture upon us for the Performance of this and other
good Exercizes, have made us judge that the first fruits of
our Labours in every kind are due to you, by whose Bounty
wee have received the Opportunitie of beginning and con-
li

Iii INSCRIPTION AND LETTERS
tinning in them. Wee most humbly beseech you, therefore,
favourably to accept now in writing that which you were so
favourably pleased to approve in the rehearsing, and together
with it our faithfull acknowledgement that wee doe owe to
you as the great instrument of Gods Mercy, not onely the
Convenience and Opportunitie, but even the very Abilities
themselves that are in us towards the performance of this or
any other good thing ; considering that the vacancie of time,
the meanes of Instruction, and all other necessarie concurrent
helps, have had their prime and cheif rise from and by meanes
of your Love, and on your Love and Life doe even at this
present mainly depend. Besides, for that whereunto this
particular exercise is chiefly intended : the Discoverie of those
false Opinions wherewith the world misleads all Mankind,
especially our weaker sex, — wee have received both by your
precepts and example, if not the greatest and weightiest, yet
surely the most proper and effectual Arguments and Motives
that could have beene brought. You have foreaken all those
Affections, Imploiments, and Delights, wherein the world
perswades the cheif content of womens minds should ly, and
you have censured them as vanities at the best, as sins and
great ones, as they are commonly pursued. You have taught
us often that which wee hope shall ever remaine as fiiTne
writteil in our minds as in this Book, That there is nothing
but the Practizes of Vcrtue and Religion that can in the end
yeeld comfort : all other things will turn to Bitternes at the
last. Wee know your experience hath beene more large and
full then most others in these matters, and therefore cannot
but beleive your judgement to bee right; and upon this ground
have beene the rather encouraged to the contempt of that
which is indeed contemptible, and to the endeavouring after
those things which are alone worthy Love and Honour. Wee
are bold, deare Grandmother, to refresh these things upon this
occasion, the rather as it were by the recording thereof to
oblidge our selves to the following both of your Example and
Advise, the Benefits whereof in the Continuance of the Life

INSCRIPTION AND LETTERS liii
wee most humbly beseech God of his infinite Mercie long to
continue to us and your whole Familie.
Your most Bounden Daughtei-s,
The Sistere,
2 Februarie, Mary and Anna Collet.
1631.
My Deare Children,
What I have taught is true. Use carefully therefore
now and ever the time and Opportunities that God offers you
for the attainement of wisedome and encrease of Vertue. As
for mattere of Huswifery, when God puts them upon )'ou it
would bee sin either to refuse them or to perform them negli
gently, and therefore the ignorance of them is a great shame
and Danger for women that intend Marriage. But to seek
these kinds of Businesses for pleasure, and to make them your
delights, and to pride yourselves for your care and curiositie in
them, is a great v.anitie and Folly at the best, and to neglect
better things and more necessarie by pretence of being im-
ployed in these things is surely, though a common Practize,
vet a peice of sinfull Hypocrisie. Doe them therefore, when
God puts them upon you, and doe them carefulh- and well,
and God shall reward you, howe\ er the things themseh es bee
but meane, accepting them at \our hands as if they were
greater matters, when they are done and undergone out of
Obedience to his Command. But let your Delight bee onely
in the better part. As for your Book, I kindly accept it ; and
although I have heard you \ery jealously deny the communi
cating it with any, yet because I suppose j'ou esteeme your
Sister Mapletoft all one with yourselves, I would ha\'e you
send her this Book, which I doubt not will bee both of Profit
and comfort to her.
God continue and encrease you in ever\- good way and
thing, till \'ou come to Perfection in Christ Jesus.
Your Mother,
Mary Farrar.

liv INSCRIPTION AND LETTERS
To our Dearest Sister,
With the same Love that is given by our most
honoured Grandmother, doe wee make the Conveyance of
this Book unto you, our dearest Sister, professing faithfully
that wee esteeme our Paines as well imployed in thus parting
with it to you as wee should have done in keeping it for
ourselves, so much doe wee love and prize the Grace of God
that is in you, and the gracious Benediction of God which wee
have received by your meanes, a most worthy and faithfull
Brother ; to whose good judgement wee doe freely submitt this
little work, beseeching him to give us Notice of what hee there
shall find amisse.
And so beseeching God to perfect his goodnes in you by the
full Restitution both of inward and bodily Health, wee rest.
Your faithfull
Sisters,
2 Februarie, 1 631. Mary and Anna Collet.
Who both dyed Virgins, resolving so to live when they
were young, by the Grace of God. My much honoured Aunt
Mary, who took care of me and my Brother Peter and Sister
Mary after the death of our reverend and pious Father, Mr.
Joshua Mapletoft, dyed in the 80th year of her age.
John Mapletoft.
Jan. 22, 1 7 15.
My Deare and Worthy Neice,
The equall joy and Benefitt which I have in and by
you make mee as gladly give you my part as your Sisters have
done theirs of this Book, and to add my further promise,
which their joynt consent doth ratifie, that of e\erv mod
thing that God shall impart to us, you shall ever have as
liberal and free a communication as wee can possibly make you ;
which not onely our Love but your own desert binds us to
whilest you continue what you are by the performance of your
Duty, the great Comfort and Ornament to our Familie.

INSCRIPTION AND LETTERS Iv
God make you to encrease in all his graces and Blessings.
Amen. Your Unkle, Nicholas Farrar.
This Book was presented by my great Grandmother, my
honoured Mothers two Sisters (the daughters of John and
Susanna Collet), and their Unkle Nicholas Farrar, who was
my God father, to my ever honoured Mother, Susanna
Mapletoft, the same year in which I was born. And I desire
my Son, to whom I do give it, with the great Concordance
and other story Books, that they may be preserved in the
Family as long as may be. John Mapletoft,
Jan. 23, 1 7 15.

Mrs. Ferrar. After Janssen.
Froui the picture in the possession of Lady Lyell.

BOOK I

I
THE FEAST OF THE PURIFICATION,
1630 (1631)
Formation and design ofthe Little Academy.
It was the same Day wherein the Church celebrates that
great Festivall of the Purification, that the Mayden Sisters,
longing to bee Imitatours of those glorious Saints by whose
Names they were called (for all bare Saints Names, and shee
that was elected Cheife, that of the Blessed Virgin Mary)
having entered into a joynt Covenant betweene themselves
and some others of neerest Blood (which according to their
severall relations they stiled Founder, Guardian, and
Visitour) for the performance of divers religious exercizes,
least, as sweet Liquours are oftentimes corrupted by the
sowrenesse of the Vessells wherein they are infused, there
should arise in their hearts a Distast or Abuse of those
excellent things which they purposed ; they therefore resolved,
together with the Practize of Devotion, to intermingle the study
of wisedome, searching and enquiring dihgently into the know
ledge of those things which appertaine to their Condition and Sex.
Finding in themselves, and observing in others that doe
sincerely pursue vertue, that the greatest barre of Perfection
was Ignorance of the truth, whereby through misappre
hension many prejudiciall things were embraced, and many
most behovefuU to their ends and most delightfull in per
formance were not onely neglected but abhorred : which,
2

2 I HS
having by many particulars experimented in themselves,
doubting that they were alike abused in most of those things
which wee have received by Tradition from our Fathers,
they determined with firme promises each to other to make
a particular survey of those opinions and practizes which
the world recommends or disallows, weighing them not in
the scales of common Judgement, but of true and right
Reason, according to the weights and by the standard of the
Scripture ; wherein being excellently versed, so as they were
able to repeat by heart both the Booke of Psalms and most
part of the New Testament, they found that there was neither
Action nor Opinion that could bee propounded but might
receive a clear solution and direction from that Booke.
Wherefore, not upon presumption of their own Abilities, but
on Confidence of Gods gracious assistance to their humble
and diligent Indeavours, they agreed every day at a sett houre
to conferre together of some such subject as should tend
either to the information of the understanding or to the
exciting of the Affections, to the more ready and fervent
prosecution of vertues and better performance of all such
duties as in their present or other Course of Life hereafter
should be required of them.
The first proceedings, as it alwaies happens in great Attempts
that have no presidents to direct, were both in forme and sub
stance farre short of that whereunto they were in the end reduced.
Wherefore, as Artists upon the full accomplishment of
their workes cast aside the first draughts, so silencing what
was lesse exactly done, I shall goe on with the recording
of things from that time which themselves accompt the
beginning, being about the end of May. Onely, by way of
introduction, as Porches were anciently sett in the Fronts of
greater Buildings, I will sett downe the passages of two or
three severall dales, which may well serve for a preface to the
Reader for this following booke, as in truth they were maine
arguments to the Confirmation of their minds who were the
Actours of this and other noble undertakings.

II
ASH WEDNESDAY, 1630 (1631)
Pirrhus — Trajan — The Lady of the Lights — The Courtiers'
Penny Tax.
On Ash Wednesday, therefore, although for the better suiting
of their bodies to their Hearts and their Hearts to the
Meditations of the Day they forbore the refreshment ot
corporali Food, yet so much the more desirous to feast their
minds in the Fast of their Bodies, meeting at their appointed
time and place, together with that other Company which
were alwaies Auditours, and sometimes at least one of them
partener Actoure, in these Exercizes,
The Cheife began thus : —
My dearest Sisters and sweet Companions, the Solemnity ot
this day inviting us to sober thoughts, I shall desire our
stories may be such as both befitt the season and tend to a
serious Confirmation of our well chosen resolutions. And
that so much the rather, because if you shall agree thereunto
wee will make this Day the beginning of our exercize,
accounting this weeke already past but as the tuning of
Instruments before the Musick, harsh Jarring to sweet Har
mony. The whole company seeming by cheereftill gesture
to approve the matter, the Guardian in all their behalfes
made answere : — Faire Cheife, the motion is, like yourselfe,
most acceptable, and worthy to be so. Wherefore, in Gods
Name doe you make enterance, and wee all will, to the best

4 I HS
of our Abilities, second you, both in Cloth and Colour, as the
Proverbe is. Whereupon she thus proceeded.
That brave King and Captaine Pirrhus, whom Haniball
judged the worthiest Chieftaine next Alexander that ever the
world had, boyling with ambitious desires of enlarging his
Dominions and encreasing his Honnours, brought one day
into Consultation amongst his Captaines and other Freinds,
the resolutions of warring upon some of his Neighbours,
against whom hee had rather made then found a just Quarrell.
The whole Counsaile gave their votes according to the Kings
mind, onely one excepted, named Cineas, a man of long
robes, who, excusing his Ignorance in martiall matters, besought
his Majesty that, waving all arguments touching that subject,
hee might freely demand some few questions of him. To
which the King graciously condescending, Cineas sayd. Sir,
when you have overcome these against whom you are now
bent, what will your grace further doe ? Marry, quoth the
King, if wee heerein prove successefull, the whole state of
Greece must submitt to our Empire. Bee it so, sayth Cineas ;
will you rest there ? Nay, verily, quoth Pirrhus ; but then
immediately will wee goe against the Romanes, and if wee
overthrow them, then Italy shall be the fruit of our Labours
and hazard. A noble and happy Conquest, says Cineas ; but
when this shall be effected, what shall wee then doe ? Why
then, quoth the King, wee shall not doubt to sett on the
Carthaginians. And suppose you have overcome them, what
then ? Why then, quoth hee, all Africa shall be ours. In a
blessed houre, replied Cineas ; and what shall wee then doe ?
Pirrhus, now growne a wearie, halfe in anger, half in mirth.
Oh Cineas, sayth hee, then will wee give our selves to rest
and quiet, to Banquets and Games, and enjoy all the happines
which wee shall have purchased. If that, sayd hee, dread
Soveraigne, bee the upshott of your intents and aimes, who
forbid you now to accomplish the same with saving of all that
Labour and hazard which wee shall undergoe, and perhaps
bee overwhelmed with ? How can it bee conformable to

I HS 5
your excellent wisedome to fetch a large and wearisome
Course about for the attainement of those pleasures into the
fruition whereof you may immediately enter, if you please ?
If a happy and delightfull life bee that you aime at in the
end, why doe wee not without delay take our part thereof?
This sayd Cineas. And though Pirrhus could not gaine-
say, yet could hee not follow the prudent advise of this wise
Counsellour but, led on stifly by his confused and blind desires,
after some yeares spent in extremities toyle and anguish of
mind and body, was miserably slaine by a piece of Timber
cast downe from the top of a house by a womans hand.
But his tragicall end is not that which I have recounted
this story for, but the proposall of Cineas his argument to
convince the madnes of us Christians that, professing the
service of God out of a pure heart and good Conscience to
bee the maine and upshott of all our desires and aimes, dot
notwithstanding all by a joynt Conspiracy, as it were, in folly
sett that part to be performed in the Catastrophe of our Life,
giving our youth and present times to the pursuit of vanities,
spending the strength and vigour, both of mind and body, in
a violent race deane contrary to that path at the head
whereof the prize is sett, which wee pretend to seek. But
let us no more, my dearest Sisters, bee as Children tossed to
and fro with every windy and frothy argument of the Lovers
of this world, but come to a cleare and stable resolution
touching the leading of our lifes henceforth. If the service
of the world and the Flesh bee good and beneficiall, and
worthy our soules, that fetch their Originali from heaven,
why, then, lett us sett seriously thereabout, loosing no time,
gett what wee may of the pleasures and profitts they afford
and perhaps offer a liberall tast unto us, and herein let us
sett up our rest. If we say Nay, but though for a while wee
shall be glad to bee partakers of this worlds delights, yet on
no hand will wee take them for our Portion, but purpose in
the end bidding adue to them all as, with greatest Honour to
her and joy to our selves, wee see our dearest Grandmother

6 IHS
to have done ; why, then, what silly fondness will it bee not
to beginne even from this very instant to follow that Course
which in the end wee resolve to take, and to endeavour the
attainement of those things which wee know onely to bee
worthy keeping : Wisedome, Temperance, Patience, Meekenes,
Humility, and the rest of those heavenly ornaments. As for
the vaine Fancies in apparrell, the licorish appetites in Diet,
foolish imployments of our minds and times in gauds and
trifles, peevish venting of humours, and all the like infirmities
which vex our weake sex, why should wee not from this very
houre bid an utter defiance unto them, since at the last wee
meane with shame to casheere them as our reproach and
danger ? If it will be honourable and good in our gray
haires, how much more now in youth, to bee wise and
vertuous ?
Here the Cheife stayd, and having for a good space sett
her eies on the ground, at last with a cheerefull eie viewing
the Company round about — Your thoughtful! Countenances
(sayd shee) give Testimony that I have sayd too much, and
perhaps in other manner then I ought, and therefore I will
no further increase your wearinesse or my owne fault.
Not so (replied the Guardian) most worthy Cheife, but
rather the excellency of the matter and your answerable
handling of it hath bred this solemne alteration on our parts ;
so as though wee could gladly heare your discourse till the
starres should appear, yet that wee may not at present over
charge yours nor our owne memories, desirous to beare away
that which you have already sayd, wee are content to yeeld
to your desires.
Whereupon the Cheife arose and took the Patient by
the hand, and sett her downe in the Chaire, saying. To you
belongs, deare Sister, by some better recounted story to make
satisfaction for that which I have been wanting in.
To whom the Patient replied : Whatsoever shall this day,
worthy Cheife, bee sayd on this subject must be but descant
on the song which you have now sett. And in proof thereof

IHS 7
I shall tell you an example tending to that purpose, — That
every man in his place should bee carefull to perswade his owne
oflSce without delay.
Trajan, that incomparable Emperour, being on a day in speedy
March against some Barbarians that had broken into the
Romane Pale, a poore Widdow pressing through the middest
of his guard, casting her selfe on her knees, tooke hold of
his stirrop, and with a showre of teares besought him to
doe her justice of one that had cruelly murdered her onely
son. The Emperour bad her rise, saying that at his returne
hee would doe her justice to the full. But now, Mother, sayd
hee, my hast is too great. Whereupon the old Woman
replied, Suppose you come not back againe, who then shall
doe mee right ,? That shall my successour, sayd Trajan. Alas,
Sir, sayd shee, if he should faile mee too, shall nol you then
remaine indebted to Justice and to mee? But in case that
thy successour doe mee right, shall his Justice free thee ? Nay,
shall it not rather augment thy fault? Happy will it be for
him if all that hee can doe suffice to discharge himselfe,
which is more, as thou perceiveth, then thou now canst doe.
The Emperour hearing this dismounted presently, and sent for
the Accused, did the widdow Justice according to her desire
and his owne duty, and afterwards discomfited his enemies and
returned with great honour. This was one of those noble
Acts which made this Emperour so famous and beloved, as
after ages, out of Compassion that such incomparable vertues
should be damned, feined Trajans soule to bee retm^ned out
of hell by St. Gregory the great his Prayers. But surely,
wherever his soule bee, the wisedome and worth of his actions
ought to be imitated by us, never putting of the doing of right
and Justice which wee are bound to performe.
The Patients story was of all much commended, and the
Cheife, taking the Cheerefull by the hand. Although (sayd
shee) the mends of my defects bee already made by this
renowned Story, yet that it may bee with greater advantage,
I shall desire you, sweet Sister, to fitt us with some of those

8 IHS
excellent ones which you are Mistresse of. Whereupon the
Cheerefull made answere : I am at the most but a steward
that keepe others wealth, but because I know with their good
liking I may make use of that which is in my store, I shall
tell you an example to perswade us not to deferre the bestowing
of our Aimes and the exercize of our Charity (as the manner
of too many is) to the period of our lives ; but whilest oppor
tunity serveth to bee ready to distribute and willing to
communicate, according to the Apostles Counsell and en
couragement, laying up in store a good Foundation against
the time to come. To this purpose shall my story bee,
whereof, however the Fact may bee doubtfull, the morali, I
am sure, is most profitable.
A great Lady, high both in Bloud and Riches, but much more
high and happy in the Vertues of her Sonne, by Dignity a Bishop,
and in holy Conversation a Saint, being oftentimes pressed by
him to the exercize of Charity in an overflowing measure, still
putt him off with the large bequest that shee intended in her
will to good uses, which shee conceived would bee as accept
able to God and profitable to her selfe as any present
distribution. Her good son, perceiving that by solid arguments
he was not able to perswade her, bethought himselfe by a more
plain and materiall kind of proofe to convince her. One night,
therefore, having invited her to supper at his pallace, which
hee studiously protracted, at her getting into the Coach to
returne home, it being very late and darke shee called for
torches to attend and guide the way. The Bishop, who had
purposely commanded there should bee none ready, desired her
to lett the Coachman drive on easily. To which when shee
made answere that all the way being bad needed light, but
especially the passage of the bridge, which was very perilous,
the Bishop counselled her to proceede, saying that he would
send the lights after, which should overtake her by that time
shee came to the Bridge. Whereunto with much passion she
replied. That will I not hazard, sayd she, by any meanes ; for
suppose wee should bee on it before wee are aware ? There

IHS 9
would then perhaps need more then lights to helpe us out
againe, and to remedy the hurt that might befall us. I will
not therefore stirre, sayd shee, till I have the Torches before
mee. The Bishop, seeing that it wrought as hee wished, with
great humility besought her to consider whether it were not
fitt to observe the same Course in that which was of farre
more importance, sending her good works and Almedeeds
before her by the performance of them in her Life time, rather
then to leave them till the last houres, which might happily, as
it did many others, by sudden approach prevent her expectation.
Which if it should, Madam (sayd hee) I cannot say how
certainely you might promise yourselfe to accomplish what you
intend. Many more and greater hazards of disappointment
must needs bee undergone then that which you now feare
from me. But, howsoever, this I am certaine, that at best the
lights can but follow, which will bee nothing like, either
for Comfort or safety in so dreadfull a passage, as to have
it nightly shining before you. The good Lady, beeing a
woman of deepe understanding, after shee had well pondered
the matter, told her Son that the Causes were indeed so like
that shee ment to hold the same Course in both, and therefore,
sayd shee, let mee now have the torches alongst with mee
to prevent bodily danger, and come you tomorrow, and take
order for the providing of as much Light as may bee for the
conducting of my soule in that darke and fearefull passage ot
death. You have, deare Cheerefull (sayd the Guardian), passed
our expectations in this story. Let us heare (sayd the
Cheife) what the Affectionate intends, and I doubt not,
honoured Guardian, but you shall have further matter of
Commendation. My Story (sayd the Affectionate) being
short and to perswade the sparing of faults, I should make
a double one to trouble you with a preface. — A certaine
Courtier having obtained of the Prince towards the repaire
of his decaied Fortunes a charter to exact a penny for every
defect in Man or Beast that passed the gates of the Citty,

10 IHS
his Officers seeing one come limping by, called to him for
their due. Hee, pretending that it was but a casuall stirring,
refused to pay, whereupon, drawing nearer to him, the Officers
perceived a blemish in his eies, and so required twopence. He
offered the first penny ; for the last hee began stoutly to
maintaine that, seeing his sight was perfect, the blemish
was not in Compasse of their Charter. They as resolutely
claiming as hee denying, by misfortune his hatt fell off, and
some soreness appearing on his head, they then told him they
would have threepence. Which in the end the poore man
was forced to doe, that might at first have gone cleare for
a penny. How often hath it happened so with mee in the
foolish defence of errors, multiplying the guilt and putting
upon my selfe the necessity of discompting by fourefold sorrow
and shame that which at first a light acknowledgement would
have redeemed. Its best therefore at the first to make the
amends of that which is done amisse. So I counsell you, and,
God willing, shall my selfe practize, paying my Penny at the
first demande to save further Arrearages.
This is as much of that dales passage as the Actours them
selves give leave to recompt.

Ill
EASTER, 1 63 1
Humility and moderation of the Emperor Charles the Fifth — His
sister, Mary ^ueen of Hungary.
In the like kind were their appointed houres dayly spent till
after Easter, when the whole frame of this lower world
wherein wee are bounded, seeming to sett itselfe forth with all
manner of bravery to entertaine the approaching Sun her
Paramour, least the outward glory and pleasure that every
way offered it selfe should by ravishment of the senses steale
away their hearts from the pursuit of those farre more rich
though lesse evident beauties and delights which they were
enamoured of, this sober Company resolved, both for a
Counterpoyze to the common Jollity of that season and for
a wholesome restraint of their weaker Affections (that they
might not melt away through too much sweetness in an un-
paralelled Prosperity, which God had every way crowned them
with), by the Choyse of more sad and solemne meditations and
discourses to allay that lightnes and excesse of Cheerefulnes
which too much happines doth unhappily breed in most mens
minds, perswading themselves, that in a moderate and tem
perate enjoyment of their outward Comforts they should both
better confirme the fruition of them, and more certainly
attaine those Benefitts to which Prosperity, when it is con
ferred by Gods Love and favour, is intended. Which in their
Judgement they determined to bee not the Debauchment ot

12 IHS
the soule through a dissolute surfetting in those vanities and
pleasures which the world sucks out of Gods blessings, but
rather the composing of mens minds by the experiment of the
Insufficiency of all earthly things to give Content to a right
esteeme and use of them, not as things wherein our desires
should rest and settle themselves, but whereby they should bee
carried up to the Contemplation and pursuit of those true,
eternall, and absolute good things whereof all that seems good
here below is but as a beame or rather glimpse of light to the
body of the sunne itselfe.
These great thoughts working in the minds of this little
society, and a necessity of handling some choise subject being
occasioned by the presence of certaine Freinds whom dearest
Affection enforced to admitt, and worth required to entertaine
with more then ordinary preparations, the Cheife thus gave
vent to their overflowing thoughts. —
The desire of happines is one and the same in all men, but
the apprehensions and pursuits thereof are almost as many as
the men themselves. Some few select soules agree that it is
not else where to be found but in God. But the most part,
deceived by false appearances or rather shaddows, hope to attaine
it in the heaping up of riches, honour, and pleasures. Hence
ariseth that continual restlesse toyle of mind and body with
which wee find all men overwhelmed whilest they seeke to mul
tiply the store and possession of these things to themselves
wherein they conceive happines to be included. And although
they find their expectation still frustrated of that Content which
they imagined, yet bewitched with the glorious prospective of
things which are before them, they are led on, both with un-
satiable desires and unwearied attempts in the following of these
vaniries, ever impudng the want of their Content to the want
of some one thing or other. Whereas, in truth, if all whatsoever
the world hath from its beginning afforded in matter of riches.
Honour, and Pleasure were molded in one Lumpe, and given to
any one Man to enjoy, it were not able to satisfy his soule, but
he would still find an emptiness or rather an increase of anguish.

I HS

13

Its a well knowne story of Alexander the great, that having
conquered the greatest part of this world, and undoubtedly
possessed himselfe of all the good in it, hearing talk of more
worlds hee fell a weeping. So little was all that which he had
able to satisfy his desires, that it could not keepe him from
lamenting his miserable Estate. Questionlesse if wee did
seriously weigh, as wee must necessarily beleive, the truth of
this, wee should not bee so violently and vainely led on to the
spending ot our selves in the seeking of the things of this world.
I suppose, therefore, that there can bee nothing more profitable,
either to the disturning of our minds from the over-greedy
pursuit of things here below or to inflame them to the endea
vour after those things which are above, then to add to the
continuall experiment of the insufficiency of these things which
every one findeth in their owne soules by dayly tryall, the often
refreshment of those illustrious examples which God hath
continually sett forth before our eies for the full reformation
ofour understanding touching the Vanity of all earthly things,
still making this application to oure owne hearts, that if the
mighty men of the world could not attaine Joy nor Content
in the right and fulnes of all things that this world affords, it
will bee mere madnesse for us to hope to find it in the offalls
and scraps of meaner fortunes ; and if they were forced at last
to goe to God, and to seike their happines in his service, how
much wisedome and Happines wilbe in us to beginne timely
whither they all in the end strive. But because old stories
move not so much, either because they have beene often heard
formerly, or perhaps are not so fully credited, I shall desire
that our instances may bee of later times, and that you, deare
Patient, would make the enterance by the recompting of that
incomparable History touching the Death of the last King
of Spaine, Philip the third, then which I have never heard a
more convincing proofe both of this worlds Vanity and of the
worth of Gods service.
(The Stories of King Phifip, Henery the fourth of France,
and the two Popes Marcellus and Adrian, being this day told

14 IHS
by the Patient, Cheerefull, and Affectionate, are here
omitted, being brought in afterwards to serve for Innocents
Day. But the conclusion of this day proving the beginning of a
large and painefull work to the Cheife, I have thought fitt to
insert here that passage which it brought on, the rather to
enforce the full performance and perfection of the same.)
Both the vehemency of spirits and the abruptnes of the
Period with which the Affectionate closed, made the
Company for a while to expect her further proceeding, which
by her rising from the Chaire perceiving to be otherwise, one
of them smiling, as though hee would make believe that the
Affectionate, whom they prized for a good Historian, was
but a bad Herald, stayed her, saying, your Conclusion is not
necessary, because your Induction is not full, having left out
that which is the cheife, the imperiall Diademe, which per
haps by its transcendent power and Dignity circles ih that
perfect happines and Content which these lesser Orbs of
Kings and Popes Crownes cannot.
The Affectionate, turning her eies to the Cheife as
admonishing her of her Cue, That part (sayd the Cheife)
is imposed on mee for the Conformity of Name, not for the
proportionablenes of abilities, for it might have beene per
formed better by some others. And although in regard of the
worth and weight of the subject it requires a more curious
hand then mine, yet that I may shew that just obedience to
your authority which I shall require in the like kind from you,
I shall recount a true and fresh History, which shall serve as a
seale to your Confirmation of all which my Sisters by their
former stories have endeavored to perswade themselves and us.
Is it possible, sayd the Guardian, that wee should heare
any more convincing proofes and examples then those which
have already been told ?
Yes, verily (sayd the Cheife). By how much the excesse
of Dignity, the Excellency of personal worth, and the more
lively manner of hearing evidence (hee having put in execution

IHS 15
those Conceptions which these former recompted Princes
uttered onely in word), by so much doe I esteeme Charles
the V a more pregnant testimony that all which this world
yeelds is nothing but ^-anity and vexation of spirit.
The name of Charles stilled not onely the tongues, but the
thoughts of the whole Company, who, settling themselves with
great attention, seemed with much earnestnes to require the
Cheifes performance of her promise and satisfaction of their
desires. But she, drawing back from the Chaire to which shee
had all this while sett next. The time, sayd shee, is too farre
spent at present, nor am I provided as I wish. Besides, the
Story itselfe is worthy of an intire Day. The Company,
yeelding to the justnes of her excuse, without further reply
dissolved that time.
The next Day, meeting at their ordinary Place and Houre,
the Cheife finding her selfe unfurnished for the discharge of
her promise, casting about with witt to solve what indeed pro
ceeded of want, as if it had beene of deliberate Choise what
was indeed constreyned by Necessity, beganne thus. —
Least as it happens in royall Bankets, when they come too
thick, the greatest dainties are not sett by, so it should prove in
our royal stories, I suppose it not amisse, for the better pre
paring of our minds to receive them vnth that due attention
and affection which they deser\'e, to gi\e a little respite to the
digesting of those which ha^e beene yesterday told, least per
haps else, as hony to a fuU stomake, they should prove lesse
regardful! in our minds. Wherefore, by your good leave,
waving for the present the performance of my purpose and
vour expectation touching Charles the V his relinquishment
of this worlds ^anit)', I shall tell you a particular Act of his
which, as it was perhaps a preparation to these excellent resolu
tions which he at last undertooke, so it shall sen-e mee for a
preface to the recompting of them.
Having o\-ercome Jolm Frederick of Saxony and Maurice of
Silessia in a most tmexpected manner, when aO the world sang
the applause of his innncible prowesse, wisedome, and good

i6 IHS
Fortune, comparing him to Julius Caesar in the greatnes of his
attempts, and particularly in the happy acheivement of this
victory, attributing to him, as of right, that famous Motto
which Julius Cassar used, I came, I saw, and overcame. Hee,
striking out the last word as too full or arrogancy, added a
Couple of farre more truth and sobriety, making it thus to
runne, I saw, and I came, and God overcame : by his
Humility and wisedome farre more deserving admiration then
by his victory.
The Cheife having ended her story, the Patient thus
seconded her. —
There is no Meddow more abundant of sweet and beautiful!
Flowres then this noble Princes Life was of faire Actions and
vertues. Wherefore I desire, since wee are in so rich a Garden
for beauty and delight, that wee should not seeke any further
to finish this dales worke. Our Cheife hath told you a
passage of his humility to GoD-ward ; I shall tell you one of
the monstrations of his mind towards his equalls and enemies.
As hee was going to Even-song, News was brought him that
his great and potent enemy, Francis the firet, was overthrowne
and taken prisoner by his Captaines. When his Counsellors
and Courtiers attending on him broke out into great re-
joycings and Boastings, hee with a severe Countenance, stilling
all their unseasonable mirth, kept on his Course to Church,
where, commanding Publick thanks to be given in a solemne
manner for the victory which hee had obtained, hee did
streightly forbid all those expressions of publique mirth which
by fires. Bells, and other waies were intended in the Citty,
deeming the effusion of so much Christian bloud and the
Calamity of so great a Prince to deserve rather teares and
Compassion then mirth or insultation. The next morning
hee received the sacrament with evident tokens of great
devotion, and went, accompanied with the whole Court, in
procession. Neither in words or deeds, sayth the Prince of
Historians, did hee discover any spice of unfitting mirth or
swelling thoughts. To the congratulation of Embassadoursand

IHS 17
other great Persons about him his answere was. That hee could
not but much rejoice by the manifest assistance of the Divine
Power to have received a certaine earnest of Gods favour
towards him, and to bee made confident, though most
unworthy, that hee was in his grace from whom hee had
obtained so singular mercy. For the rest hee no further
rejoyced then that there was thereby opportunity offered him
to settle peace in Christendome to turne their joynt Armes
against the common Enemies of our Faith, and together with
these greater designes to bee able to benefitt his Freinds, and
to pardon his enemyes, and in Confirmation of these intents
hee did then receive the Justification of certaine States, which
had highly offended him, although as hee professed, their
excuses were altogether insufficient, and by this occasion hee
had gained much advantage to right himselfe : But he rather
chose to follow St. Pauls example, using the Authority which
God had given him, to edification and not to Destruction.
Yet all this, mee thinkes, seemes little (sayd the Affec
tionate) in point of Moderation in regard of that surpassing
Patience which this heroycall Emperour shewed, when at the
seige of Metz a souldier of base ranke, but baser Condition,
after the bitter imputation of their common Miseries to his
folly called him to his face the sonne of a madwoman. How
great a magnanimity was there in his brest, that could
without disquiet passe over such an affront, which, to that
Anguish of mind hee then endured in the greatest of all
Calamities that ever befell him, must needs bee like the
powring of scalding oyle upon smarting wounds. The
reproaches against Prosperity and Innocency are but the
beating of the garments. That cuts to the soule, that are true
and given upon advantage. I commend him of generousnes,
that contemneth that Injury which hurts him not. But I
admire him that holds his hand, whenas his heart is peirced
to the quick, and restraines the power of revenge when hee is
offended, out of presumption of weaknesse.
The Cheerefulls story at that time being more proper to
3

i8 IHS
another head, and hereafter to bee remembered, in supply
take that which was told the next Day as more sutable to the
former peices, being of the selfe-same Charles, and Mary the
widdow-Queene of Hungary, his Sister in bloud and vertue
during life, and his Companion in death and in the selfe-same
resolutions of abandoning the world, whilst they lived in it. —
After her husbands the King of Hungarys Death shee
returned to her Brother the Emperour, and continued with
him, in presence counselling and assisting, and in his Absence
governing some of the most noble parts of his large spreading
Empire. It so happened that a Gentleman of noble birth and
great estate corrupted on of her Mai des of honour, which shee
tooke so heynously, as the Gentleman was faine to fly to the
Emperour, beseeching him to mediate the pardon of his offence,
which the Emperour loving the Gentleman very dearely, did
in most effectual! manner. But the royall Lady standing
constant in her Judgement would by no meanes be entreated.
The Emperour, hoping that time and Importunity might
perswade her, ceased not with all earnestnes to solicite iher
reconciliation. Shee, seeming wearied therewith, besought her
Brother the Emperour no more to trouble her in that matter,
which was unworthy for him to meddle with, who being the
fountaine of Justice ought rather to urge the execution thereof
then the perversion. But, sayd shee, as it becomes a sister for
the supply of what is defective on your part, I vow to God
and you, that if ever hee come neere mee, though it bee in
your owne Company, I will cause him to be hanged on the
next tree that can be found. Whether this austere Love of
Chastity and undanted Courage in the punishment of vice
were greater in this noble Queene, or the Moderation and
unpartiall mind of the Emperour, that could both patiently
endure the dissappointment of his earnest desires and the
generous reproofe of his Sister, I leave to your Judgement. To
mee they seeme both worthy of highest praise and Imitation.

IV
CHRISTMASTIDE (1631)— ST. STEPHEN'S DAY
Sapritius — Sisois and his angry Friend — Macarius and his
Disciple — John the Almoner — Henry IF. of France —
Alphonsus XI. of Castile — ^een Katharine of Arragon—
Abbot ApolUnus and the two Combatants.
The story of Charles the Fifts relinquishment of the world
being grown already to a volume, and yet not perfected,
although as much as is done was recited in the summer, is
here omitted, and wee passe on to the setting downe of the
Christmas Stories ; the occasion whereof is expressed by the
Cheife in the introduction which shee then made, and here
next follows. —
It is a hard task that is imposed on us, most honoured
Grandmother and Founder of our little Academy, that
wee should make supply of delights to your Family for those
vaine pastimes of Cardes and the Hke, which you have so
Christianly deprived them of. But when it is added that wee
must likewise endeavour to profitt them in the way of vertue,
as well as to please them, in requiring of two things that
scarce stand together, there is made a great surcharge of Diffi
culty to the work and paines to us.
To make it a merry and true Christmas, both together, to
your household by delightfull and vertuous exercises, that they
should have no Cause to envy others greater Liberty or better
Cheere, is the injunction. But that it should bee our per
formance were more than wee durst hope ; but for the great
encouragement of our worthy Guardian, who perswades us
19

20 IHS
that it will be easily and certainly effected by the dayly re
compting of some good Histories, whereof wee ought not in
truth to bee unfurnished, considering the opportunity that God
hath given us to grow rich in these kind of Jewells; for Jewells
they are indeed, especially when they are well sett by a grace-
full delivery and a seasonable application.
With which two Conditions could wee bee sure to have
our stories qualified, wee should indeed make no question, by
giving most delightfull entertainment to the whole Family, to
give full satisfaction to your desires and the command that is
imposed on us.
But though wee cannot hope so much touching our stories,
yet, since wee have no hope at all by any other meanes then by
our stories in any part or manner to discharge ourselves of what
wee are bound unto, wee have resolved this way to make Essay,
wherein^ if your good Acceptations shall give Encouragement,
wee shall proceede the rest of this Festivall. Otherwise, if by
this dales experiment you find our designes unworthy of your
precious hOures, or unanswerable to your worthy intentions,
you may please, by your intimation of your dishke, to give an
end to them, and by the direction of your wisedome to sett
us in a better and more acceptable way.
Having thus spoken shee rose and sang the Hymne follow
ing, which the Master of their Musique played on the Vyoll.
Unquenched Love in him appeared to bee.
When for his murtherous foes hee did entreat ;
A piercing eie made bright by Faith had hee.
For he beheld thee in thy glory sett ;
And so unmoved his Patience he did keepe.
He did as if he had but falln asleepe.
Our luke-warme hearts with his hott zeale inflame,
So constant and so loving let us bee ;
So let us living glorify thy Name,
So let us dying fix our cies on thee ;
And when the sleepe of Death shall us oertake.
With him to Life eternall us awake,'
' This Hymne is one of Mr, Withers " Songs of the Church,"

IHS 21
The Hymne being ended shee, with a low Reverence setling
herselfe in the Chayre, thus proceeded.
This song, refreshing to the Memories the ground of
this Dales solemnity, leades us of Necessity — except wee will
make a treble Disproportion to the Festivall, to your Musick,
and to your Minds, which I am sure are in expectation
of matter answerable both to the time and this preface — to
beginne and end our present exercise with stories of such affec
tions, words, and Actions as in and by the example of blessed
St. Stephen are recommended to our Imitation by God and the
Church. You must not looke to heare from us anything that shall
match the height of his perfection. It were hard to find and
perhaps would not prove so sutable. Dimme eies see better
in a shady Light then in the brightness of the Sunne, and
midling Examples and arguments more prevaile with weake
and feeble minds then those that are more excellent in all other
kinds, so especially in Matter of Vertue. That which must
strongly move to imitation must not bee too farre removed
from hope of matching in some good proportion. Wonder
not, therefore, if now and then you heare that which may
seeme but ordinary. Its purposely contrived, as courser dishes
are served in greatest Feasts, that there may bee that which
is pleasing and proper for every Mans liking and Constitution.
But the maine ought to bee Dainties; and that it shoulde bee so
in our Banquet you doe justly expect, and wee, as God enableth
us, shall endeavour. And accordingly I shall first present you
with a story full of admirable Actions and events and worthy
of everlasting Remembrance.
Its a true Story for the substance and maine passages of it.
Every Circumstance I dare not warrant, neither in this nor in
most others perhaps that you shall hereafter heare. Thus hee
spake, and in this manner hee did, are garnishes which wise
Masters doe make supply of when the originalis are perished.
Things did not passe nakedly, though they be nakedly recorded
to us. It hath beene judged, therefore, no diminution of truth

22 IHS
of History to make supply of such kind of particulars, which,
when they are rightly fitted, serve not onely to pleasure, by
representing the matter as it were in prospective, but to great
benefitt by instructing and preparing the hearers minds how to
behave themselves comely in the like occasions.
This Apology, sayd the Guardian, is needlesse at all times,
now very displeasant, because it hinders the story which wee so
much desire. Whereupon the Cheife began, —
Sapritius was a Preist of Antioch in Syria, every waies
venerable for excellency of Learning, for Sanctity of Life,
for indefatigable paines, and happy fruit of his paines and
Labours in Christs Church, not only confirming the Beleivers
but converting many Infidels to the faith by his Doctrine and
Example. Amongst many that frequented his Divine Sermons there
was one Nicephorus, a young man in Age, but old in Wisdome,
whose extraordinary zeale and Diligence recommending him
at first to Sapritius, his acquaintance afterwards so indeared
him in his affections that Sapritius could not forbeare, if
Nicephorus came not of himself to seeke him out e\ery day,
finding such an excesse of Content in Nicephorus his ready
apprehension and carefull practize of highest Mysteries which
hee was able to teach, as hee thought no time nor Paynes too
much that was thus imployed. But when after two or three
yeares space Nicephorus, as well by the eminency of his owne
true worth as by the continuall recommendation of Sapritius
using to put him for the Instance of holy Convereation, beganne
to grow into such reputation as Sapritius thought it did much
detract from his the Love and Goodwill which was not truely
founded upon the Advancement of Christ his honour — how
beit, it had altogether beene exercised in things pertaining
thereto — began by little and little through the undermining of
envy to sink ; and first by a cavillous kind of Demeanour in all
things, and afterwards by an affected strangenes, Sapritius
gave Nicephorus plaine remonstrance of an alienated mind and
Affection, which, seeking occasion to breake of Freindship,

IHS 23
quickly found it. Some difference arising betweene them,
words were multiplied, and in heat of passions, wrongs and
injuries offered on both parts. Nicephorus is scarce gone when,
as Men in coole blood begin to feele the smart of those wounds
which they felt not in the fray, the consideration of this
error and of his Loss being represented in the cleare light of
true Judgment, hee finds the Burden of them intolerable. To
discharge himself therefore of that which he could not beare,
hee hastens to Sapritius, makes Confession of his Fault, offers
all amends that could bee, humbly sues for Pardon, but cannot
obtaine it. He hopes time shall afford him helpe for what he
cannot then effect, and continues by Meekenes, giving of
honour and all manner of good offices, to endeavour the regain
ing of Sapritius Love and Friendship. But in vaine : Sapritius
every day gives proofe of more and more displeasure. It was
Nicephorus his vertue that he began to feare, and now was
given to hate. Goodnesse, that appeaseth all other kind of
wickednes, adds to the rage of envy.
Nicephorus, seeing that himselfe was not able to prevaile,
imployes his friends to find the cause and mediate the peace
between him and Sapritius. But herein hee proves as unhappy
as in all his other attempts. Sapritius his obstination en-
creaseth by the application of the remedies, and Nicephorus,
though wearied in body and wounded in mind, yet resolving
not to bee overcome by any Faintnes till he had overcome
by vertue, enforceth himselfe to make the last experiment.
Hee goes home to Sapritius his house, falls downe at his feet,
and with his hands lifted up, and teares running downe his
Cheeke, beggs forgivenes of what he knew and what hee did
not know to have done amisse. But Sapritius answeares
were frownes and cruell words, and when they served not to
drive him away, hee layes hands on Nicephorous and thrusteth
him out of dores, bitterly laying to his charge not onely fore-
past matters but even his owne present distemper and all those
misbeseeming outrages which himselfe had then committed.
The Imputation of this guilt and the unexpected issue of

24 IHS
Businesse so amated poore Nicephorus, as he went away fuller
of perplexity then he carne ; and though many feares and sowre
thoughts sett upon him, yet would hee give admission to none,
but with meeke and humble Affections addressing himselfe, to
God, besought equally the pardon both of his owne and
Sapritius his errors, and for the rest perceiving all things
sort contrary to reason and his owne forecast, hee grew
to a firme resolution to committ himself wholly to the
direction of Gods good spirit, and no more to disquiet him
selfe touching what hee was further to doe or suffer in this
matter, but with patience to wayt what the event should
bee, assuring himselfe that by Gods mercy all should turne to
his good.
Within a short space after the persecution that was
begunne at Rome by Valerian and Galienus, whose thirst of
Christian blood was so great as every Day three or foure
thousand Martyrs were not sufficient to quench, it spred to
Antioch. A President is sent armed with much Power, and
enforced by a rigorous Commission to destroy all that will not
deny Christ. He enters, and the same houre beginnes his
examination. A light on a Hill cannot bee hidd. The
generali voyce of all the Idolaters appeach Sapritius as the
cheife upholder of his owne Christian religion, the greatest
enemy of theirs. He appeares, confesseth the accusation, and
after many cruell torments, wherein hee seemed rather to
triumph then to suffer, is adjudged for his constancy in the
Christian Faith to have his head strooke off. Nicephorous
sees and heares all this, and leaping for joy upon Sapritius his
bringing forth from the Tribunali, meets him, falls downe, and
being ashamed, not for his owne but for Sapritius his sake, to
give any intimation of such unworthines and weakenes as the
memory of injuries implies, instead of Pardon craves his
Blessing. Sapritius turnes away his Countenance as still
retaining the former enmity ; and immediately the concurse
of the people, striving to gaze on the condemned Man, forceably
carries Nicephorus away and debarres him from all further

I HS

25

speech. Hereupon hee makes hast, and running before to
another place where hee knew Sapritius must of necessity
passe, presents himselfe a second time in a suppliant gesture,
and with words of great submission, beseeching him now at
last to pardon his forepast errors. The standers by, and the
\'ery guard that led him, second the request by making roome,
keeping silence and compassionate Lookes, and when they saw
these prevailed not, by plaine words willing him to forgive
and grant whatexer it were that was so earnestly, so humbly,
and at such a time desired. But Sapritius persists obstinate,
and not able to make a good answere, forbeares to give any at
all. Hereupon the Guard grew angry, and drag him away
widi much more despite then formerly.
And Nicephorus, cast of againe by the Presse, runnes before
to the place of execution, where, as soon as Sapritius appeares,
casting himselfe on his face, and kissing his feet, hee cries out
aloud, the teares trickling downe his face. Martyr of Christ,
forgive mee for his sake for whom thou givest thy life. These
words and tears, that moved all others, moved not Sapritius at
all. Hee remaines setled in his former pers'ersnes to part with
all things but the airaged Affections that he beares to
Nicephorus. This matter was like to have gone on in
length, but the Guard, seeming wearied as well with the
ones Importunity as with the others Obstinacy, removes
Nicephorus, and wills Sapritius to lay downe his head to the
Block. At which speach, lifting up his eies like a Man come
out of a Trance, he demanded very seriously why hee was to
dy. Because thou refusest to ofler sacrifice to the immortall
gods, repUed the executioner, and despisest the Commandment
of our most godly Emperors. Then hold thy hand, sayd the
wretched old Man. I am ready in all things to doe as our most
godly Emperors have and shall appoint. Their gods shall be
m}' god, and for Christ Jesus — he was aboute to have added
some fearefull blasphemy when Nicephorus starting forth
interrupts him. And wilt thou now at last, Sapritius, deny
that blessed Lord whom thou hast so long time served, whom

26 IHS
thou hast preached, whom thou hast praysed, for whom thou
hast done and suffered so much ? Why, what evil hath hee
done unto thee ? Nay, what good hath hee not done unto
thee ? And how much more and more inestimable is the good
and grace which hee yet intends and offers unto thee if thou
despise it not ? Looke up and see, blind, fainting Soule, that
Crowne of Glory that is prepared for thy head as soone as it
shall bee stroken of for his sake. Loose not for a little paine
that is gone before it bee felt that ineffable happines that shall
never have an end. . But Sapritius, full of gastly Horror,
seeming as deafe to his exhortations as hee was before to his
intreaties, without any reply drew back. Which Nicephorus
seeing, stepped boldly forth, and presenting himselfe before the
Executioner, Strike, Freind (sayd hee), and send mee quickly
hence to recover that immortall Inheritance of Blisse in
Heaven which this wretched man hath made exchange of
for a few dales continuance of his miserable life here on earth.
The standers by hearing this, as soone as amazement gave
leave, began sharply to reprove Nicephorus, calling him Mad
man, and threatening that he should indeed undergoe what hee
sought and deserved, except hee quickly withdrew and recanted
his vaine speeches as they termed them.
They bee not vaine words, sayd Nicephorus, but words of
sobriety and truth. Nor am I besides myselfe, as you think,
in offering to dy for him that died for mee. But you are
besides yourselves in leaving that God which made you, to
worship gods which yourselves have made. Judge in your
selves. Is it meet that you shoulde bee so diligent and
carefull for the satisfaction and Honour of the Emperor,
whose perishing bread you eat, and that I should not bee
much more zealous for the glory and service of my Lord
Jesus Christ, who hath redeemed mee with his blood and
promised an everlasting Kingdome to them that faithfully
believe and confesse his holy Name ?
The Ministers of execution, stopping his mouth, presently
led him and Sapritius to the President, who, after many flat-

I HS

27

tering curtesies and vaine promises heaped upon the miserable
Sapritius, turning him to Nicephorus with marvellous
commendations and compassionate esteeme of the many
excellencies both of mind and Body which (hee sayd) hee
saw and heard to bee in him, began with faire speeches to
desire, and with many reasons to perswade him to follow the
example which his Master Sapritius had given, swearing that
so doing hee should receive many great Favours not onely
from himselfe, but from the Emperors, when they should
understand the matter.
I have a better Master, replied Nicephorus smilingly,
to follow then Sapritius ; and if Sapritius must still bee my
Master, it is better that I should follow the good Counsell
that hee hath heretofore given mee, then the foolish Course
that hirnselfe hath now taken, in preferring Men before God
and the Love. of a few wretched dales in this world before
the enjoyment of oeternall blisse in heaven. But if thou
refuse to follow his example, foolish young Man, sayd the
President, know thou shalt assuredly undergoe the punish
ment which hee hath escaped. Why, that is it I long for
(sayd the blessed Saint) ; thy other guifts and favours keepe
for thyselfe and Sapritius. Let him have what thou intendest
mee, and lett mee have what thou formerly ordainedst for
him. And thou shalt have it double and treble (cried the
enraged President). Bring forth the Torments, and let him
prove the sweetnes of that which hee entreats for and
deserves. Whips and Wracks and iron Combs, Fire and
scalding Liquors, and other Instruments of painefull death are
instantly presented by the ready Ministers, and when the sight
of them could not terrify Nicephorus, they are with all
cruelty and force applied to his Body. Thats wounded and
torne on every side, but his mind remains firme and cheerfiill,
singing and praysing God, that had made him worthy to
suffer such things for Christs sake. At last the President,
seeing Nicephorus his strength and courage to goe on
encreasing in Torments, thinking it a double Shame to bee

28 IHS
foyled in the putting too of greater force, and envious of the
Honour which his owne heart told him such incomparable
Patience and Magnanimity deserved, resolves to loose the
victory in the lightest manner, and so commanding the
tormentors to cease, wills his head to be stroken of, which
was immediately performed. And in the fall of his Body on
the Earth, his soule mounting up to heaven, hath in the
example of his Christian meeknes left the way tracked out
for us to follow and attaine that oeternall Happines which
hee now enjoyes. As on the contrary Sapritius his miserable
Ruine, like the downefall of a mighty Tower, gives a fearefull
warning of that danger that Hes wrapped up in envious and
emulating thoughts, and a full proofe of certaine Damnation,
which at last attends on Implacable Dispositions.
Its impossible to retaine joyntly in the same brest the
faith of Christ and the memory of Injuries, when amends
is offered. Hee that denies his Christian Brother pardon
when hee sues for it, hath already denied Christ in his
heart ; his owne Conscience teHs him as much, and his
Tongue will not spare to tell it others ; if hee bee putt to the
Triall upon the hazard of any great sufferings, you shall see
him turne open Renegrade. The shipwrack of his faith
must needs follow, the losse of whose charity is gone before
by the settled purpose of revenge or the obstinate putting
back of reconciliation.
The Cheife had no sooner given evidence that she had
concluded what shee then ment to say, when the Affec
tionate, taking the eccho of her last word : —
Reconciliation (sayd shee) with our Brethren is one of those
maine services which God hath for ever enjoyned us, when
hee made the Reconcihation himselfe with us in our Lord
Jesus Christ. But revenge is one of those peculiars which
hee hath for ever reserved unto himselfe. Wee cannot enter upon
the Exercise thereof without incurring a Premunire in the
highest degree. You have heard the proofe thereof in miserable
Sapritius, you shall know the reason thereof from good Sisois.

IHS

29

It proceeds from four Causes

And it workes foure deadly
effects in a mans soule
towards his Neighbour — •

I should doe you wrong to deprive you of the Preface
with which I was first taught the Story. You shall therefore
have it intire, being indeed full of good matter, and much to
our present purpose.
A certain holy Father taught his Disciples touching Anger
on this wise. Covetousnesse,Selfe-will,Desire of Honour and
Conceit of a Mans own will.
Hatred,Contempt, Envy, and
Evill speech.
(First in the heart.
Secondly in the face,
Thirdly in the tongue.
Fourthly in the Actions.
Let a man therefore seeke to kill it in the Heart, but if it
doe forceably arise there, let him restraine it in his Coun
tenance. Iff hee cannot there master it, yet let him be sure
to restraine it in his tongue, and most of all keepe it
from performance by deeds. And further this good man
added, that he that being offended willingly pardons, is after
the Nature of Christ. Hee that would not bee offended is
after the Nature of Adam, but hee that offends and doth
wrong is after and of the Nature of the Devill ; and to the
inducing to the Necessity of forgiving this story is recounted.
One having received a great Injury comes to Father Sisois
complaining much and deeply threatening revenge. Sisois
willed him to leave vengeance to God, to whom It belonged,
And doe thou forgive the wrong ; thats your part. Nay,
sayd the other, I will right myselfe. Sisois, perceiving his
obstinacy, before hee would lett him depart, went as his
Custome was to prayers, and when the other kneeling. downe
was ready to second him, hee spake in this manner. Lord

3°

IH S

God, henceforth have wee no more need of thee, as tarre as
I perceive by this my Brother here, who takes upon him to
have both Justice and Power enough to right himselfe and to
revenge the wrong that he hath received. The other cried
out hearing this, and falling on his face, Mercy, Lord, Mercy,
Lord, I did not know what I did ; but now I doe not onely
forgive, but beseech thee Hkewise to forgive him that hath
done mee this wrong.
A word is enough to the wise (sayd the Cheerefull) ; a
little warning setts a good understanding in the right way.
So it happened to this good Man, and to another of whom I
shall tell you, who by the good odour of this excellent vertue
of Love and meeknes was drawen to embrace the Christian
Fayth. Macarius, travailing to Mount Nitra upon some occasion,
sent his Disciple before him, a young Man and highly con
ceited, rather for the fame of his Masters worth then his
owne vertue. This disciple meeting one of the idolatrous
Preists running in great hast with a heavy piece of timber on
his shoulders, scornefully demands where away runs this Bed
lam ? The Preist flinging downe his Burthen fell upon him,
and when he had beaten him almost to death, taking up again
the Timber, prosecuted his journey till he met with Macarius,
who, being farre of another Temper, with great Affability
saluted the Preist. Hee, wondering thereat, asked Macarius
whence this Curtesy proceeded. Alas, sayd Macarius, per
ceiving thee overtoyled I cannot but pitty thee, and therefore
was willing by a gentle greeting to give opportunity of
breathing, ready likewise to afford the helpe, if in any thing I
may steed thee, either for the ease of thy labours or for the
mollifying of those other discontents which is evident by your
face doe vex thee. It had beene happy for him whom I
mett last, sayd the Preist, if he had learned so good language
as thou now usest. Oh, mee, sayd Macarius, hast thou
perhaps done him any hurt ? Sure it was my disciple. I, so
I guesse (sayd the Preist) by the conformity of your habitts.

IHS 31
But however you are like, yet assuredly your hearts are farre
unlike. Hee reviled mee without Cause, and I have left him
sore wounded in my rage. But by thy meekenes and Love I
am so farre convinced, that I purpose from henceforth to bee
of thy religion, which must undoubtedly bee the best, that
hath made thee so full of true goodnesse. Having spoken this,
Macarius with teares embraced and baptized him, having first
given order for the Cure of his Disciple, whom and all others
hee was wont by his example to admonish to the Practize of
kindnes, willing them to observe for certaine truth that proud
and evill words make even good folkes the worse ; but sweet
and humble speech induceth them that doe amisse the rather
to Amendment.
Well might Macarius teach (sayd the Moderatour) that the
Love of enemies, the speaking kindly and doing good to them
that hate us, is the Cognizance of a Christian. Hee may
perhaps bee of another religion, and have some other power.
Mars, or Bellona, or some such other Deity for his God, that
nobody shall wrong him ; but, according to the Proverbe, hee
shall carry as good as hee brings. But Christian religion hee
cannot bee of, nor have Interest in their God, except hee be
resolved to overcome evill with good ; so farre must hee bee
from the requiting it with the like. To which purpose I
shall tell you a famous Story, and worthy Imitation. —
John the Almoner being one day with much Company
about him, his young Nephew, whose Name was Gregory,
entering in with a troubled Cheere and confused manner,
made a bitter Complaint to him of a certaine Shopkeeper who,
upon the Demande of some arrearages of rent, had not onely
loaded him with many opprobrious words before a great
Number of people, but otherwise manifoldly abused him.
The standers-by, discovering a manifest altercation in the
Patriarchs Countenance, esteeming it to proceed from the
sence of his Nephews wrongs and teares, thinking to
ingratiate themselves into the Patriarchs favour by complying
that way which they conceived his Affections to incline,

32 IHS
began much to exaggerate the offence, joyntly concluding
that it was not to be passed over without sharp and exemplary
punishment, that might teach all others with what respect they
ought to proceede towards them which have so neere relation
to him. You say true, replied the Patriarch, there is no
question but my Honour suffers much in this Busines; and
that in the Injury of my Nephew, whom every one knows to
bee as deare to mee as mine own eies, there was an afifront
to mee which, since you all agree requires some amends,
I will take such order in the matter as all Alexandria shall ring
of it. The young Man gave his unkle great thankes for the
profession of so much Love and his promise of such full right,
and departed very joyfully to call the Steward over those
affaires, as his Uncle willed him ; who, comming imme
diately, the Patriarch openly told the Steward that whereas
such a Taverner (of that Profession hee was) had very much
misbehaved himself by evill words and deeds towards his
Nephew Gregory, which in all men's opinion, sayth the good
Patriarch, trencheth very deep to my Creditt. I will have
you henceforth forbeare to exact any rent or other duties from
him, to the intent that by the unexpected Benefitt which
hee receives from us hee may the better understand the
undeserved Injury which hee hath offered to my Nephew, and
on him to mee. And so stepping to his Nephew to prevent
the further affliction of shame and greife, both which passions
the changing colour of his Face gave remonstrance began to
work in his heart, he first embraced and kissed, and afterwards
thus bespake him : My Son, that is true kindred which meets
in vertue, not Bloud onely. If thou wilt therefore be mine,
thou must bee like minded, patient to beare and ready to
forgive. That is it which I by Gods grace have resolved
touching the requitall of Injuries. If herein thou resolve to
follow mee, thou shalt have mee, nay, thou shalt have God
himselfe for thy Father and Heaven for thine Inheritance ;
but to repay evill with evill proceeds from the wicked one,
and carries the soule headlong to everiasting Death. Let these

IHS 33
thoughts, my Son, restraine thee, whenever thine owne or
others Instigation putts you on to revenge. He certainely
looseth all his owne good that thinkes to gaine by harming
others. Blessed bee God (sayd the Patient), there have not wanted,
even in these last and evill dales of ours, illustrious examples of
this Vertue. I have one to tell you, which both for the
excellency of the Action and the admirable Conclusion which
it inferres, deserves, in my opinion, to weare the crowne of
this dales Stories, especially considering that it was a king that
did and sayd it, the great Henry of France, the Father of
our happy Queene. This noble Prince, lying before Roane,
having received certaine Intelligence of an enterprize that was
to bee attempted against his life, as hee walked one day with
an observant eie, perceived a suspicious person not farre from
him, whom by the confrontment of many particular signes
that had been given him, hee began strongly to conceit was
the Murtherer whom he was advized to beware of. Where
upon hee commanded the Gentleman (such hee was in
appearance and indeed by birth) to bee brought unto him.
The Palenesse of his guilty face and shaking of his Joynts
in his Approach verifying the suspicions. Your countenance,
sayd the King, speaks aloud ; you know what I have to
charge you with. Leaving therefore all fruitlesse denialls,
as you tender your owne life, confesse plainly the whole truth
of your intendement against mine.
The wretched Man, seeing himselfe taken in the snare that
he was laying, began with teares and stretched out hands
to beg for mercy. Speake, Freind (sayd the King) ; did I
ever doe thee any wrong or any of thy Freinds, or what may
bee the cause that thou goest about my death with the hazard
of thine owne ? The miserable wretch, as soone as hee could
recover his fainting spirits, with a trembling voice made
answere that no particular occasion of his owne — having never
received any offence from his Majestie — but the Interest of
the generali cause of his party had drawne him to these
4

34

I HS

resolutions, having beene perswaded by his ghostly Father
that the making away, by what meanes soever, of so great
an enemy of their religion was an Act of so high merrit,
as a Crowne of eternall happines was but the due reward
for it. Well, then, sayd the King, since it is the difference
of religion that hath sett you a-work, I will shew you the
difference betweene those two religions which you and I
professe. Yours perswades you to kill them that never have
hurt you, and mine wills mee to pardon them that never
so much offend mee. Its a matter of merrit with you to
murther them that have done you no Injury ; and it is a
matter of Necessity with mee to forgive mine enemies, though
they seeke my Life. Goe your way, then, and let mee never
see you here againe ; and judge in yourselfe which of the
twaine answeares more to the Doctrine of Christ : your
religion, that makes you an [assassin], or mine, that makes
mee so mercifull, and whether Is liker to be the right way
to Heaven : That which overrules to spare the guilty soule,
or that which teacheth to shed the innocent Bloud.
The Traytors happ that thus scaped (sayd the Guardian)
was much better, though the deed farre worse, then of that
Moore, who would have slaine Alphonso the Eleventh ot
Castile, in which point, deare Patient, your story, that in
everything besides is oequall, is perhaps not a little inferior ;
the barbarous Kings Justice being no lesse admirable then the
Christian Kings Patience.
It is no great Merveile (sayd the Moderatour) if there were
two kings for one, that your story should In some points
exceede. Defraud us not, therefore, I pray, of that delight
which the Conjunction of two so different Vertues in one and
the selfe same Action must needs breed, especially when they
both meet in their hights, as it seemes here they did. Why,
since you will not bee denied, sayd the Guardian, take it
breifly and plainly as my Author setts it downe.
Alphonsus the Eleventh, having streightly begirt Algezira,
one of the beseiged Moores issued forth with intent to kill

I HS

35

him before he should carry the Place, which hee was certaine
within a few dales to doe. The Moores purpose was dis
covered, and himselfe brought to the King. When all
expected he should bee putt to some cruell death, Alphonsus
gave him a rich garment and a good summe of Mony, and
caused him to bee conveyed safely to his owne King, whose
Name was Belmazin. The other no doubt went full of joy,
expecting to receive a double reward from his Master, for
whose service hee had so desparately engaged himselfe both
soul and body. But Belmazin hearing the matter, after he
had with sharp words rebuked and terrified the poore Moore,
commanded hee should bee instantly slaine, saying hee was
unworthy to live who would have robbed the world of so
magnanimous and meeke a King.
A notable Example of royall Justice, sayd the Cheife, and
an admirable proofe of that universall Grace which Meeknes
hath both in heaven and in earth. It is a thing of great price
with God, sayth St. Peter, and of great power with men. You
see by this Instance, when it winnes favours and obtaines
Justice from a barbarous King, and he an enemy too in
the very height of his owne wrongs. Hee is zealous to
doe Meekenes right, though it bee in the cause of his
Adversary and on the Person of his Freind. Hee cannot
forbeare to give Testimony that it deserves Love above all
things, and shall find protection everywhere. Let others, if
they list, pride themselves of great Stomach, and seek to ward
of Injuries with Power ; but let Meeknes of spirit. Lord,
bee my Armes against offences and the ornament which my
soule desires to bee beautiful with. Let others learne
of the world to prevent wrong by doing it first, and to
keep peace by making warre. Let mee learne of thee. Lord
Jesus, and of thy Saints, to be meeke and lowly. So I am sure
I shall find rest unto my soule, and otherwise I am sure I
cannot. The Company was about to rise when the Moderatour,
staying them with the beckening of the hand to sett downe

36 IHS
againe : I should bee sorry (sayd shee), that wee should part
without an Example of this Grace of Meekenes in some of
our owne sex, to which it seemes more properly, at least more
necessarily, to belong then to Mankind.
The Submisses Countenance (sayd the Cheife) seemes in
mine eye to promise the satisfaction of your desires, most
honored Moderatour, if shee might bee admitted to beare
a part in this exercize. I have beene much troubled, sayd
the Guardian, in mine owne Mind, that both she and the
Obedient have beene so long left out from that whereunto
they ought to have beene compelled. I pray, therefore, let us
not loose the Advantage of this occasion to bring them in.
And in regard that the first attempt cannot bee so perfect,
let them have the Liberty for a while of telling their stories
as they can ; I meane without the expectation of any Preface
or Application from them. So they bee to the purpose it shall
suffice. If they cannot truly be cast into the ranke with
others, they shall serve apart, as auxiliar supplies upon speciali
occasion that may happen.
Whereupon the Submisse told the story following.
Katharine, the wife of Henery the Eight of England, was
Aunt to Charles the Emperor. After about twenty yeares
continuance in wedlock, the King procured a Divorce. The
Cause was undoubtedly just, but the affections and courage or
the King full of unkindnes and harshnes. Yet could not this
Queene bee perswaded by the most earnest Invitation of the
Emperor, nor of his Brother Fardinand, King of the Romanes,
nor of his Neices, the Queenes of France, Hungary, Portugal!,
and Denmarke, to leave England, but rather choose in an
unhealthfull Place and in a retired Manner to lead a desolate
Life in England, then to have Honours and Comforts abroad.
Neither was shee ever heard during her life to make any
Complaint against the Kings unkindnesse. And on her
Death-Bed shee wrott him a letter full of Affection and sweet
and profitable Counsell, without any touch of Distast. At the
hearing of her cause at Bridewell, before Cardinal! Wolsy

IHS 37
and Campeggius, shee, refusing to answere her appeale to
the Pope, the King, vexed thereat, after shee was departed
sent for her againe into the Court ; shee, submissively
returning, was admonished by her Proctor that if shee
appeared againe in the Court shee did ipso facto disannul!
her appeale, and the Cardinals being made for the King would
certainely give sentence against her. Whereupon shee im
mediately retired to Bainard Castell, the place of her Abode,
but always shewing a marvellous perplexity of Mind. As soone
as shee was Landed, turning unto her Attendance that stood
about her, This is (sayd shee) the first time that ever I
disobeyed my Husbands Command, and though the occasion
may seeme most just, yet, next time I see him, I will on
my knees begg his pardon for this necessary disobedience.
This shee delivered with passionate words and accompanied
them with many teares, leaving a rare example for all women
of wifely Obedience.
This Story (sayd the Guardian) is indeed an Honour to
your sex, but a shame to your Age. Its beyond commendation
of words. Let us heare what the Obedient hath to say.
Abbot Appollinus happening in fray, sought with many
arguments and much earnestnes to sett them at unity. One
of the Combatans bad him spare his paines, for hee would
not prevaile. As I live, sayd hee, I will have no peace with
mine enemy. To which the holy Man with a troubled
Cheere made reply. Thou hast refused Peace, and Peace hath
forsaken thee. Thou shalt want thyself when thou most
needest what thou wilt not give thy Brother. The other
made light of the matter, but the next day proved it a
heavy and sad doome to him. They that heard him thus
threatened found him the next day torne a peices of wild
Beasts. He had his due (sayd the Moderatour) and they that follow
his example must looke for his reward. And things that
belong to God are in a joynt Confederacy one with another,
and for the maintenance of Peace have sworne a common

38 IHS
League both for offence and Defence. He breakes peace with
all that proclaimes warre with any, and makes the whole
Creation his Enemy that will needs bee his Brother's Adversary.
When any ill therefore comes upon any Man, the first Queere
which I should wish him to make is, whether he beare ill-will
to any. If hee doe, hee need goe no further for the ground
of his Calamity. Nor may hee instantly expect the release
till the Cause bee removed. Hee that keeps others faults
alive in his memory, refresheth the guilt of his owne before
God, and in seeking to take vengeance necessarily pulls it
upon his own head.
Sapritius lost his Soule, this other his Life, by these
Desires. But Meekenes carried up Nicephorus whither
St. Steven by the same steps had before ascended ; and not
onely in Heaven, but here on Earth, crownes all the
Possessors thereof with a happy quiet in themselves and
an honourable and everlasting remembrance to after Ages.
This is the inference of our Stories ; I pray God it may
bee the practize of our Actions.

V

CHRISTMASTIDE, 1631— ST. JOHN THE
EVANGELIST'S DAY
St. John's Fishery — Bishop Troylus — Cosmo de" Medici — Consalvo
Ferr antes — Salladine.
The Remembrance of the former Dales Pleasure having after
a quicker dispatch then ordinary, though of extraordinary
cheere, carried up most of the Family to the Sisters
Chamber, the Guardian, seeing unusuall Lonelines in the
Dining Roome, himselfe onely and one or two more being
left, smilingly sayd to his Mother that it might well now
bee scene that there is as great delight to bee found in good
things and profitable as In pernicious Vanities. For I doe not
think any Gamesters within twenty Miles more egerly bent
upon their Play then our Family on their Stories. I beseech
you, therefore, let us put them to no further paine by our
longer differing to give them by our presence a beginning
to that which their minds are so longingly sett upon.
So going up they found the Company Indeed, as the
Guardian supposed, with Repetition of what they had heard
sharpening their Appetites for that they were to heare. The
Sisters, having notice given them, instantly appeared, and the
Cheerefull, to whom the Guidance of that Day fell, made
an enterance by singing of the Hymne following, as formerly,
playd on the Vloll. 39

40 IHS
Teach us by his example. Lord,
For whom we honour Thee to-day ;
And grant his witness of Thy word
Thy church enlighten ever may.
And as beloved, O Christ, he was.
And therefore leaned upon Thy breast.
So let us also in Thy grace
And on Thy sacred bosom rest.
Into us breathe that life divine
Whose testimony he commands ;
About us cause Thy light to shine.
Light which no darkness comprehends.
And let Thy ever blessed Word
Which all things did create of nought.
Anew create us now, O Lord !
Whose ruin sin hath almost wrought.
Thy holy faith we do profess ;
Us to Thy fellowship receive.
Our sins we heartily confess :
Thy pardon therefore let us have.
And as to us Thy servant gives
Occasion thus to honour Thee :
So also let our words and lives
As lights and guides to others be.
The Hymne being ended, shee thus began.
The Light, Life, and Fellowship with the Divine Majesty,
which this Hymne so sweetly descants on, and whereunto wee
all pretend with such inflamed Affections, are by no other
Steps to be ascended unto then by a stedfast Continuance in
an holy fellowship with our Brethren through the Light and
Life of Love alwaies abiding and working in us. Hee, there
fore, that casteth away the last shall bee sure to make forfeiture
of the first.
This is that which, as the blessed Apostle, whose Feast
wee now celebrate, cheifly insisteth upon ; so is it most
especially, as I take it, intended by the Collect, when it praies

IHS 41
that the Church may bee enlightened by the Doctrine of the
blessed Apostle and Evangelist John.
In these Considerations, therefore, wee have agreed first to
present you a short epitome of St. Johns transcendent doctrine
touching this matter of Love, confirmed and illustrated with the
parallell Practize of St. Paul, which however our after Stories
prove, cannot but bee of singular benefitt to make us in Love
with Peace and Love, and at perpetual! warre with hate and
enmity. Hee that loves (sayth St. John) is and abides in the
Light, and there is no occasion of stumbling in him. Hee
walkes cheerefuUy, and he walkes securely through this Vale
of Misery and Danger. Death lies in waite to swallow him,
but hee escapes the snare by this Light, and is carried over
Into the dwelling of Life. Wee know that wee passed from
Death to Life, because wee love the Brethren. Other men
and creatures are made by God, but hee that loves by a more
excellent kind of Generation is borne of God. Other men are
farre estranged from the Apprehension of God, but hee that
loves hath a neere acquaintance with God. God knows him,
and hee knows God. Every one that loves is born of God,
and knows God. From knowledge hee passeth on to perfect
union with him, and so to uneffable Happines. Hee dwells
in God, and God in him.
This is the progresse of Love according to St. Johns Doc
trine, whereunto, as Hatred and enmity are opposite, so like
wise the paths and issues that they lead unto. Though a
Mans sight be never so good, yet they cast a darkenes before
them, so that hee that hates knows not whither hee goes.
Hee that hates his Brother is in darkenes, and walketh In
darkenes, and knoweth not whither hee goeth, because darke
nes hath Winded his eies. Hee thinkes his Life, at least the
Joy of it, consisteth in the prosecution of his Malice ; but
hee runs himselfe on his Death thereby. Hee becomes a
Murtherer ; and no Murtherer hath oeternall Life abiding in
him. Hee may linger for awhile here in the Hfe of this world, but
his perpetual! residence must bee in the habitations of Death.

42 IHS
Hee that loveth not his Brother abideth in Death.
Hee may talke much of God, and perhaps offer to teach
others, but in truth hee knows him not. Hee that loves not,
knows not God, for God is Love. Hee that departs from
Love hath cutt himselfe of from God, I, and all reference to
him too ; he is none of Gods, at least for good. Hee that
doth not righteousnes is not of God, neither hee that loveth
not his Brother, but is the Brother of Caine, and is, as hee
was, of that wicked one.
You have heard the Nature of Love and Hatred ; compare
them together, and the choyse will be as easy as betweene
Hell and Heaven for our Portions, God and the Devill for our
Father. We are all for Love, blessed be God. But then,
sayth St. John, wee must love in deed and not in Tongue, in
truth and not in word onely. Hee that sayth hee loves God
(and who will not tremble to say otherwise?) must needs love
his Brother, otherwise hee proves himselfe a lyar. Its a con
tradiction to reason not to love God in his Image, which wee
see, and to love Him in His owne Nature, which wee cannot
apprehend. Besides, it is a plaine breach of his Command
ments, which absolutely enjoyne that hee which loves God
should love his Brother also. Wee must love one another
for Gods sake, and wee must love after Gods example too.
His Proceedings must bee our Patterne. God layd downe His
Life for us, and wee ought to lay down our lives for the
Brethren ; and if wee must lay down our Lives, much more
must wee impart our goods to them that need. Hee that
shutts up the Bowells of Compassion to others shuts out the
Love of God from his owne heart. How dweHeth the Love of
God In such an one ? sayth John.
You have heard St. Johns Doctrine, and now heare St.
Pauls Practize of Love. Not that either John did lesse then
himselfe taught, or Paul taught lesse then himselfe performed
touching Love. They were both equaHy perfect in the
Knowledge and the Practize of this supreme vertue. But that
the unity and excellency of the same truth and Grace might

IHS 43
by the variety of witnesses bee the better confirmed and sett
of, God hath pleased (as we may conceive) that the Doctrine
of one and the example of the other should bee more fully
entred in the everlasting rolls of his sacred word, from which,
intending to present you with a perfect modell, wee dare not
digresse one step to the intent that it might bee of infaUible
Verity, which is propounded for absolute imitation. St. Paul,
therefore, testifieth of himselfe — and you know he durst not
ly — that his Love was so ardent that it alwaies sett him on fire
when hee was absent. God Is my wltnesse how greatly I
long after you in the Bowells of Christ Jesus, sayth hee to the
Philippians. And when he was present with the Thessalonians
it was so fervent, as hee melts into tendernesse. Wee were
gentle amongst you, even as a Nurse cherisheth her Children,
ready to feed them, not with the Milk of his Gospell, but with
the Life of his soul.
Being affectionately desirous of you, wee were willing to
have imparted unto you, not the Gospel of God onely, but
also our owne soul, because you were deare unto us. And no
marvell if hee were willing to impart his soul unto them that
had the whole possession of his heart. So hee tells the
Corinthians, You are in our heart to live and dy with you.
Hee neither feeles joy nor sorrow, but in the fellowsence of
their Afflictions or Comforts. His Flesh had no rest in
Macedonia ; without were fightings, within were Feares, but
all fly away like Mists before the Sunne when Titus brings
him relation of the Corinthians welfare. I am filled with
comfort, I am exceeding joyfull In all our tribulation.
The like effect did the same good News that Titus brought
him of the Thessalonians worke at Athenes when hee was hard
besett on all sides. Hee tells them frankly, Now wee live if
you stand fast in the Lord. But if there be any want of
good, any suffering of will on any hand, it breeds double the
Anguish in St. Paul that it doth in the Patient himselfe.
Who is weake, and I am not weake, who is offended and I
burne not ?

44 IHS
This greater feeling of others Paine then his owne makes
him altogether neglect himselfe to give them Content. Even
as I please aU Men in all things (sayth hee to the Corinthians),
not seeking mine owne, but the profitt of many, that they
might bee saved.
This greater desire of doing good to others then to himselfe
makes him undergoe all things, though never so hard to the
sence, never so unfitt to the ele of Mans reason.
Hee Is free from all, and yet it makes him servant to all ; he
Is stronger then any, and yet it makes him as feeble as the
weakest. To wlnne the Jews hee walkes fettered in the legali
Cerlmonies. Hee seemes to walk In the Liberty of the Gentiles
to perswade them to the subjection of the Gospell. Hee Is
made all things to aU Men ; and it is his Joy that it is his
owne losse in every thing, so it may be their gaine In any
thing. So hee tells the Corinthians, Wee are glad when wee
are weake and you are strong. These are Coppies for all
to take out, especially those that take upon them the care
of the Church, which was putt upon him. But that which
hee writes to the Romanes I know not whether it bee for
Imitation, so surpassing is it to apprehension ; I could wish that
myselfe were accursed from Christ for my Brethren, my
Kinsmen according to the Flesh. This is a flight that our
eies cannot follow, much lesse our discourse. Weele now
come downe to the representment of some of those things
in Actions which you have heard of in the Abstract, and
my story shall be as well of the Person as of the vertue that
this day more especially recommends to our Consideration.
St. John the Evangehst having in his Fishery for soules
gained a young Man to the Faith, accomplished in all per
fection of Mind and Body, upon his necessary departure from
that place committed his rich prize to the Guardianship of the
Bishop of the Citty, that by his care and paines hee might bee
fitted for the service of God, which the Bishop for a while did
with great Diligence and happy successe. The young man
making great progresse in vertue, but afterwards relenting the

IHS 45
strict tuition with which he at first began, the young man
grew from remissenes to negligence in good things, and from
thence by Uttle and little descended through the Inticement of
evill company to all manner of debauchnes, giving himselfe to
rlott, gaming, and the like, and (as excellent dispositions of
Nature If they be corrupted prove most pernicious) became a
Captaine of certaine outlaws about the Citty. St. John, after
some yeares space returning, after the accompt of other
Businesse from the Bishop, publickly demanded of him the
redelivery of that Jewell which hee had consigned. The
Bishop at first amazed what the Apostle ment, was suddalnly
in plaine termes demanded touching the young man com
mitted to his charge, to which with teares he answeared hee
was dead. How and when ? sayd the glorious Apostle. In
his soul to God, sayd the Bishop, and breifly with many teares,
both of his owne and St. Johns, recompted the miscarriages of
the young Man ; which St. John had scarce heard when,
tearing his garment, and crying out. Oh, what a good
Guardian I have found thee to bee of thy Brothers Soule !
commanded a horse and guide to be given, by whom being
conducted to the passage which the outlaws had besett, hee
was immediately by them carried before their Captaine, who
no sooner saw him but, surprized with shame and sorrow,
casting downe his weapons, hee began to fly in hast from the
presence of St. John, who, perceiving that he could not over
take by running, sent his cries and teares after him to stay him.
Wherefore dost thou fly, my Sonne ? sayd hee. From thy father
— a young man from an old — clad with Armes from him that
hath no weapons ? But If It bee not scare, but shame and sorrow
that makes thee shunne mee for thy misdeeds, behold mee
here the messenger of peace and pardon. There is yet
abundance of mercy, there is yet certainty of saluation for thee.
What doubtest thou ? See, I am ready to go with thee to my
Master, Jesus Christ ; ready, if need were, to give my Life
for thy soule, as Christ gave his for us aU. The young
man, overtaken with these sweet and unexpected Comforts,

46 IHS
stales till the Apostle overtooke him, and then falls downe at
his feet, weeping and sobbing, holding up his left hand by way
of supplication, his right hand reeking with blood hee kept
hid under his garment. St. John, perceiving his thoughts,
laies hold on that hand, the Instrument of much wickednes,
and for the confirmation of his promises washed it with teares,
and kissed it with his mouth, that hee might bee confident
that nothing should remaine uncleared when the guilt of that
guilty member should be quitted. From thence hee led him
home, and so to the Church, where hee continued with him
some dales in fasting and praiers. Hee left him so confirmed
in grace and all manner of vertue as he left him Bishop of the
same Place which he had some few dales before beene a Captaine
of Theeves, and now faithfully taking care of their soules,
who a little before was the greatest enemy to their lives and
estates. The good hope that wee have touching sinners, how farre
soever they may seeme to wander, and the diligence that wee
ought to use for their conversion, especially when they have
any more particular reference unto us, are two plaine and easy
Collections out of your excellent Story, sayd the Cheife. I
pray God that they may bee as carefully practized by everyone
as I see them by everyones Countenance with Admiration
approved in St. John. I cannot say my story shall oequall, but
sure it will second yours. A charitable prevention of Sinne is
next to a charitable redemption from sinne in our Brethren,
and great cost is next of value to great care and paines. Herein
our Stories weU suit, and so they doe for the Realty of the Acts
and the Excellency of the Persons. Hee was not an Apostle,
but next the Apostles wee may place him, his memory being
more honourable and precious to a very great part of Christen
dome then of any other Saint whatsoever. It is St. Nicholas
of whom I have to speak. And since I have spoken so much
of him, give mee leave to tell you a Httle of his former life,
which I hope will bee neither lesse pleasant nor beneficial then
the particular Action itselfe. Besides, I should perhaps bee

IHS 47
longer In contriving how to unloose it handsomely from that
whereto it is already woven then In recompting both together.
(The story of St. Nicholas is omitted.)
The Beauty of faire Actions inflames generous minds (sayd
the Moderatour), but the greater sort of men are of a lower
pitch, and except there bee an evidency of reward, are hardly
wonne to the exercise of any costly or palnfuU vertue. I shall
therefore tell you a story setting forth the great and InfaUible
gaine that in the end accrues by trafficking a Mans estate this
way. Troylus was a Bishop of great Learning and integrity of Life,
but carried away with the tyde of evill example, somewhat
more addicted to the love of money and to the maintenance ot
pompe then benefitts that holy profession which receives more
foyle then grace by setting forth itselfe to those vaine and
boisterous desires of state and Magnificence which the world
admires, and is never comely exercised about mony but In the
giving it away for Gods sake. But Troylus, that had not yet
learned these Mysteries, thinking (as men usually teach one
another) no harme to bee In keeping of a Mans owne, and
much good in spending it to his honour, taking a great summe
of mony which had beene long in getting, comes to Alex
andria to lay it all out at once in Plate, Hangings, and other
rich furniture and Abillments for himselfe and his house.
Love and Duty leads him at his first repaire to the Patriarch,
who not onely offers, but enforceth him to become his guest
during his abode In Alexandria. For his comming to and his stay
there Troylus wanted not faire pretences to the Patriarch.
But the Servants boastings disclose what the Masters wisedome
seeks to hide. Each plays his owne game. Troylus thinks it
most to his creditt to conceale the matter, his followers think
it makes to theirs to lett their Masters wealth and noble disposi
tion bee knowne, and so the Patriarch comes to bee informed
of the truth ; at which, being not a little greived, he bethinkes
himselfe of a way if not absolutely to cure his freinds disease,
yet at least to controule the exorbitant working thereof. To

48 IHS
this end hee takes occasion next morning somewhat early to
lead Troylus forth to the view of a great Hospitall, wherein
this good man had gathered a Number of poore people, and
according to the distinction of sexes. Ages, Abilities, and Inabili
ties sorted them in severall apartments and for severall Imploy
ments. Hee tells Troylus what hee had already done, and what
hee further intends ; and demands his advice in many particulars.
But Troylus, his mind sett upon the pursuit of his owne honours
and Contents, finds much distast in the enforced vein of others
Miseries ; and though hee strive to dissemble it, yet his carelesse
behaviour and cold Answeares to everything gave such remon
strance thereof as the good Patriarch, halfe ashamed at his sloth-
full demeanour in that which hee ought to be most zealous
for, taking him by the hand, I perceive. Brother, sayd hee, that
your thoughts are otherwhere ; I will therefore take a fitter
time for your good counsell in these matters. Onely now,
before you depart, I pray give a testimony of your Love both
to God and mee in your bounty to these poore members of
Christ and my Lords. That was the name by which this holy
man used to style the poore when hee spake of them. Troylus
being thus surprized when hee least thought, put on by feare of
shame and offence if hee should deale sparingly, willed his
Steward to bestow crowns apeice on the poore of that Hospitall.
Well done, good and faithfull servant, sayd the joyfull Patriarch,
thou hast honored thy Master by this liberall distribution,
and hee shall make his Blessings to abound to thee. Having
so sayd and embraced him, hee carries him away, full of con
fidence for the good that hee had done, and for the honour
which hee had and hoped to receive thereby. But when his
steward coming some houres after rounded him in the eare
that hee had layd out about ,^200— so great was the number of
poore that belonged to that house — the poore Bishop, overcome
with greife and anguish of mind for so unmeasurable a wast of
his mony, which hee loved so dearely, and so unexpected a
disappointment of those longing desires which his heart was
sett upon, faining that a suddalne qualme had ceazed on him.

IHS

49

craves leave to goe to his Chamber, which the compassionate
Patriarch gladly condescends unto, willing some ofthe Company
to attend him and see that all things were carefully ministered
both for ease and health. They that went along for that
purpose immediately returne to the Patriarch and tell him
smilingly that the Bishops sicknes Hes In his Vertue. The
largenes of his bounty was that which pained his narrow heart,
and the weight which hee had disburdened his purse of In the
morning Is that which now lies so heavy upon his mind. Hee
was no sooner out of the roome but he began to complalne
that hee was undone, and to blame himselfe for a foole, his
steward as unfalthfuU to him, and us all as plotters of his ruine.
His intent was to give to those onely whom hee saw, and to
stretch his words to the uttermost was neither oequlty nor
freindship. These and the like passionate speeches, sayd they,
did he utter in our conducting him to his Chamber, where,
seeing that our presence was offensive, wee have left him to
himselfe. The Distemper is farre worse, answered the good Patriarch,
then I conceived, and above that which our helpe can reach
unto. To repent of good deeds and to bee afflicted for a mans
happines, why this Is a malady indeed, and such as no Physitian
but hee that sitts in heaven can remedy ; but In what wee are
able wee must not be wanting. If wee cannot heale the sore
yet may wee not forbeare to swage the paine ; that perhaps may
easily, though not without cost, bee effected. Goe therefore,
and keepe the poore man cheerefull as you may till I come and
bring the Medicine, which about an houre in the night hee
accordingly did, entring Troylus his Chamber, whom hee
found layd on his bed. And after the ordinary questions
touching his indisposition were asked and answered. Brother
Troylus (sayd the good Patriarch in a pleasant manner), doe
you think in the discharge of my duty to carry away my
reward ? Nay, verily, you come not, I hope, to Alexandria to
robb mee of that which you cannot give mee. The releife of
the poore, especially those of this Hospitall, is my charge, and
5

50 IHS
the benefitt whatsoever shall arise thereby belongs to mee
alone. No man shall stop mee of this boasting. I pray, there
fore, take againe your two hundred pound which you layd out
this morning, and contenting yourselfe with your goodwill
leave to mee the blessing, whatever it bee, which Gods mercifull
acceptation shall give for the recompence of the deed itself.
Let your good intent suffice you, for nothing but the worke
itselfe will suffice mee. The poore Man, not able to resist the
temptation, perceiving in the restitution of money the ac
complishment of his former designes, and yet a good saving of
his Creditt in seeing it forced by the Patriarchs Importunity,
yeelds his Consent to the Match, and setts his hand to a certaine
kind of acquittance which the Patriarch had brought ready
drawne to this effect. Which being done hee goes down to
supper with the Patriarch, passeth the time cherefuUy, returned
to bed full of Content, and sleeps quietly till about midnight,
when hee thinks himselfe wrapt up into heaven, and there sees
a very stately Palace, passing the conceit of mans Imagination
for excellency both of matter and workmanship, and in the
forefront thereof he reads ingraven : —
The ^Mansion of Bishop Troylus.
Whilst he stands thus ravished in the contemplation of his
happines, hee perceives a yong man of great majestie in his
face and habitt, waited upon by divers Artificers with their
severall Instruments of building, comming towards him. The
yong man. In his passage by the house lifting up his eies and
perceiving the engravement, turnes him to the company, and
stretching out a golden rod which he carried in his hand, Blott
out, sayd hee, the writing which you see there engraven, and
put Instead thereof The Mansion of John the Almoner,
which he bought of Bishop Troylus for two hundred pound.
The tenor of these words and the apprehension of his unestim-

IHS 51
able losse waked Troylus full of greif and affrightment, and
though hee found it in the end to bee a dreame, yet finding It
agreable to that which our Saviour hath promised, that hee
that sows Aimes on Earth shall reape Treasures In heaven. It
made such an impression In his mind that hee never after could
bee persuaded either to keep mony or bestow It otherwise then
in this kind and way.
The repayment of charitable deeds in Heaven to worldly-
minded men (sayd the Cheife) is like the improvement of
rents after many yeares to spendthrift Gallants, a matter how
ever most certaine in Itselfe, yet of little satisfaction to them
who prize (as they say) a little in hand before a great deal farre
of. They will not deny the truth of what your story inferres,
most honoured Moderatour, because they will not bee thought
bad Christians, but because they are indeed flesh and bloud (as
they terme themselves) they cannot be without the contents of
this world, and therefore think it better to lay out their mony
for that which will certainely benefitt and delight them on
earth then to greater advantage hereafter in heaven, where the
happines is so compleat that hee which hath the least part
cannot find any cause of greife or envy. Why, then, should
they loose the pleasures which they take in this vale of misery,
where they are so needfull, for covetousnes of having more in
the Land of blisse, where all manner of desirable things so runne
over as the first step into it takes a man over head with joy and
happines? What need they therefore trouble themselves to
swimme in the deepe when the shallowest place is past
sounding ?
But how they should come there at all with this mind, at
least how they should stay there, except they bee well fur
nished with good works of this kind, If it were in their power
to performe them (sayd the Guardian), I know not, consider
ing the triall lies mainly on this point, if charitable workes bear
wltnesse to the 'Christian profession which is alledged on their
behalfe. Come you blessed directs them into everlasting joy ;
but otherwise, Goe you cursed damnes them to eternall tor-

52 IHS
ments. The world would count him but a shallow-headed
fellow that, standing for some oflice or degree, being certainly
informed what questions would bee made for triall of his
sufficiency would not have the right and full answeres provided
beforehand ; and yet they will passe for Masters of wisedome
that, pretending to ceternal happines, and knowing from the
Examiners owne mouth the arguments of opposition, come no
better prepared then either to stand silent, or at best to shew
forth hounds and horses, and Idle droanes fatt cramm'd with
continuall surfeets in the Hall when the question shall bee of
feeding the hungry. Will the bringing forth of Liveries for
Pages and Footmen, and costly hangings for the very walls,
or the dayly visit of Ladies and great men bee accepted for
answeres touching the clothing of the Naked and visiting the
sick ? I need not goe over the other particulars. You know
what God wiU ask ; you see what men can say. If you
venter yourselves upon such answeares with them so will not
I. My slmplenes, I confesse, reacheth not to understand how
these Allegations will serve their turne. I meane, therefore,
by Gods grace, to keep on the plaine way, fulfilling the letter
as much as may bee ; and both mine owne body and my children
must excuse mee if I take lesse pleasure to myselfe, or leave
lesse wealth to them by this meanes. Its Admission or Exclusion
from heaven that depends upon this point. It is best, there
fore, to be of the surer hand, especially considering that the
pleasures which are here foreborne shall be recompenced at the
last an hundredfold, and Gods blessing, which I am certaine
through His InfalUble promise thus to obtaine for my children,
is a surer and better portion then any great riches which my
thrift and care might bequeath them. Your resolution is the
more wise and the more noble, worthy Guardian (sayd the
Cheife), by how much the more absolute ; though it should
bee with losse of comforts and lessening of your estate,
youl bee sure to bring this part of your accompts in such
forme as shall not bee refused at the great Auditt. For mee
not to bee of the same mind were double folly, inasmuch as

IHS 53
my virgin-estate oequally excludes the care both of worldly
pleasures and children, and I am over and above perswaded that
a man cannot bee either the poorer or lesse full of comfort by
that which hee gives to the poore. I have a good ground in
reason for it, since the fruit Is alwaies answerable to the seed.
Hee that sows joy must needs reape it ; and doing good must
needs turne to good. But I have an obUgation in Christs
words, where hee tells the Apostles that hee that parts with
anything for his sake shall receive the selfsame an hundredfold,
even, that is, if himselfe desire it. God will bee no mans
Debitor. Hee that brings in his Accompt shall instantly have
it cleared. I hold it much the wiser course not to make offer
of it till God himselfe call. But I am sure it cannot bee so
soone offered as discharged. This have I beene taught, and
beleive, and the truth I doubt not may easily bee confirmed
by instanting many Saints whose riches and prosperity have
gone on multiplying by the distribution of them in pious uses ;
so that by their owne confession they have still had the more
by that which they have thus given away. The maintaining
of this point was that which I intended to invite the Patient
and Affectionate unto when I beganne this digression, which
now, by that which hath thereupon happened, I much more
earnestly entreat them to performe. The Examples of Saints
(sayd the Moderatour) works little but upon those that endea
vour to become Saints, or find themselves plaine sinners. The
first are taken with the Conformity of that profession which
themselves long after, and the last are troubled with the de
formity of their owne vices in the Ught of others vertues.
Butwordlymen that think themselves Christians good enough
for heaven, whilst none can touch them with open enormities,
make but a jest of the Authority or Examples of holy men,
when they are alledged either to prove or perswade that which
they please not to beleive or follow. I would rather, therefore,
wish to heare, if it might bee, the confirmation of this new
Doctrine (for so It will be counted) by the Testimony of some
such persons as there lies no exception of partiality against by
reason of any great eminency of Holinesse.

54 IHS
And wee shall fit you (sayd the Patient, having a little
conferred with the Affectionate) with a couple of such
witnesses as the world cannot refuse ; having, as it were, by an
extraordmary kind of Patent imposed on them the surname
of Great, gives them a Testimony of Irrefragable Authority
touching those things which they deliver on their creditt and
experience. Hee that I shall tell you of was but a private
man, but such a one as, by the Absoluteness of his Authority,
which hee had in a free Estate, the excellency of his Actions,
and the unparalleldnes of wealth, merited the Name of Great.
The great Cosimo de Medicis, from him in a lineaU descent
sprang many famous Personages, and some such as wore the
greatest and noblest Crownes on Earth ; and from him by a
collaterall succession is the Greatnes of that great Family of
the Medicis descended, which, besides the soveraignty of
almost all Tuscany, have now mingled their bloud with all
the royall Families in Christendome. Hee was but a Mer
chant by Profession, and gott his excessive wealth by trading,
as others thought ; as himselfe was of opinion, by bounty and
Almesdeeds. I doe not remember the just Number, but I
think It was not under thirty severall Churches, Colleges,
Hospitalls, schooles, and religious houses that he foimded and
Indowed. His house was the generali refuge of all that were
in distresse ; they came to him as to a common Father, and
no lesse indeed they found him In effect, not onely releiving
them according to their severall Necessities, but with that
Love and tendernes as the very manner of bestowing made the
Benefitts double of that which they were in their owne Nature,
and yet were they In their owne Nature of that height and
worth as is scant to bee credited, much lesse to be paralelled.
He gave ten and twenty thousand Duckets at a time (sayth
mine Author) ; and that you may not think it was but once
or twice that hee used this princely Bounty, hee adds that when
his Bookes of Accompts came to perusuall after his death, there
was not found in Florentz, however great and populous a Citty
it bee, any Man of Name or esteeme whosoever, whether

IHS 55
Gentleman or Commoner, that ought him not a good summe
of Mony. When some would reason with him touching these
Unreasonable Aimes, as they conceived them, hee would shutt
up all with these words : With all the Aimes that I bestow
for God I cannot ballance the Accompt, but still remaine his
Debitor. For however much it be that I give to him, yet It
is still much more that which hee gives mee.
You have cleared this first point, deare Patient, beyond all
exception, sayd the Cheife. His words are rather short then
over in this matter, that sayd God multiplies Riches and
temporal! good things in the very selfe same Act whereby
they are distributed to the poore.
Who was hee, I pray (sayd the Guardian), that went so
farre and spake so boldly in such a Paradox ?
It was Gregory the great, sayd the Cheife ; and so you
have the Doctrine, both In Theory and Practize, verified by
the scales of two such Personages as by their excellency above
all others of their professions have merited the Name of Great
by a joynt suffrage of the whole world. Whether the peevish
Contradictions of some petty Doctors or pedllng Merchants
of our Times have weight enough to beare downe the scales in
this Matter, judge you. But It cannot bee that the Affec
tionate should as happily acqultt herselfe of the second part,
— that content and comforts are multipUed, as well as riches, by
Almes-deeds. How a Man should gett content or comfort I have now to
dispute (sayd the Affectionate) ; but for to obtaine that
which a Man desires and the accompHshment of that which
hee intends, in which two things most Men, I am sure, hold
content to ly, theres no readier nor surer way, by the
Testimony of Consalvo Ferrantes, whose matchlesse Exploits
in warre gained him that paragon title of Great Captaine.
Though there bee but one Pheenlx In the world, yet there is
alwaies one. A new one ever springs from the Ashes of the
old, but this transcendent title rose and died with him.
Neither before nor since his time hath the world judged any

56 IHS
worthy of such grace. The same envy that removed him
from the Government of Naples, prosecuting him to Spaine,
hee is commanded by the King to give an Accompt of the
revenues of that kingdome, and the other summes which he had
received in above twenty yeares space. Hee makes answere
that it is just it should bee so ; and great reason likewise that
whether hee or the King proved indebted should make to the
other. A longer time would no doubt have been given, but
hee requires no further respitt than the next Day. When hee
appeares before the Officers of the Chequer with a Booke of
Accompts in his hand, out of which, being willed to speake for
himselfe, hee reads the first parcell. Item — -To the poore and
to Monasteries, that they might make praiers to God to give
mee Victory, given in ready mony, two hundred seventy
thousand thirty-six Ducketts of gold, nine royall. The next
parcell was six hundred thousand foure hundred ninety-foure
duckets, layd out on private spies. The King advising him
selfe of his error by an absolute Injunction not further to
mention the Busines, gives the great Captaine, though a
silent, yet a sufficient Quietus est. But the great Captaine
by this manner of Accompt gave the world an everlasting
direction, how in his Judgement and from whom they ought
to seek the Attainement of their desires and the good successe
of their Affaires. Others attributed his victorle to his valour ;
hee himselfe to Gods Blessing, and that cheifly procured, accord
ing to his Computation, by the means of Almsdeeds.
If any one should think this but a false entry devised to
cleare himselfe of the busines, by how much hee detracts from
the great Captaines worth by making him a silly Cheater In
the upshott of so many heroicall Actions ; by so much hee
enforceth the Necessity of the Argument itselfe.
Let not our thoughts (sayd the Guardian), much lesse our
mouth, be soyled with the refutation of such absurd suspicions.
Wee beleive he spake truth, both what hee had formerly done
and what hee then thought, and must conclude that the proofe
is incontroulable. If Almesdeeds march in the Van of all

IHS 57
meanes for the settlement of Estates in warre and Peace, how
much more advantageable must they needs bee for other lesser
and more able designes. It cannot, therefore, bee to losse ot
Content that Is so laid out ; not more then it is to lessening of
meanes. But I hope wee shall have further occasion to prose
cute this matter. Now let us hear the Submisse.
The Submisse her story for this day being that which wee
call the Lady of the Lights, is formerly entered and therefore
here omitted.
The Obedient follows.
The famous Salladine, that drove the Christians out of Asia,
being incomparable in the excellency of all princely vertues
and happines had hee not beene miserable In the Profession ot
a false reUglon, having conceived a singular Affection to a
French Gentleman, whom hee had taken Prisoner in
the warres, seeing him one day stand very pensive in his
presence, demanded earnestly the reason of his sadnes, which
the other not daring to conceale acknowledgeth to bee the
remembrance of his native Country and freinds. If that com
pany like you better then my favour (sayd the noble Prince),
with my good grace thou mayst returne, and in reward of thy
service and the Testimony of my Love, turning to his Treasurer,
Give this Christian (sayd hee) a thousand Markes in gold.
The Treasurer, according to his Custome, writing downe
Immediately his Majesties Command, Instead of one made
three thousand, which being about to blott out. What dost
thou, sayd Salladine ? Mending my error, sayd the Treasurer,
who have sett downe three thousand markes for one. Now
God forbid, sayd Salladine, thy penne should be more liberall
then Salladines heart. Let him have it all. The French
gentleman returning to the Christian Prince was a meanes of
truce between them and Salladine, in which time, upon
often meeting, it happened that the Christian Princes perswaded
Salladine to leave his reUgion for theirs, which hee, confessing
himselfe not well satisfied in his owne, was somewhat inclined
to doe. But first, hee sayd, hee would advise himselfe and

58 IHS
fuUy understand their customes, before hee left his owne.
Whereupon being solemnely Invited to a great Feast by the
Kings of France and other Christian Princes, having curiously
observed the Kings state in which he satt at meat, his servants
attendance, the furniture of his house, the manner of his
Lodging, and all other Customes and Usages, he confessed they
were much to bee preferred before those of his owne country
and people. But seeing certaine poore Men in meane rayment
sitting in the Hall on the ground feeding with the broken meat
that was left of his servants table, hee demanded who those
were. They are, sayd the King of France, the children and
freinds of God, who hath promised to accept that which Is
bestowed on them as given to himselfe. The next Day
Salladine invited the Christians to his Campe, where was a tent
royally furnished, the pavement being all spred with Turkey
Carpets, all woven thick with crosses. Into which the
Christians entering without any respect, not onely trod on
them with their feet, but as occasion was, spitt upon them
continually. The Feast being ended, and the motions of turning Christian
being againe renewed, hee with great semblance of gravity
made answere : Why perswade you mee to the embracement
of that reUglon which yourselves so much contemne ? At
home you entertaine those whom you say are Gods Children
and Freinds more vilely than the basest of your owne servants,
and here abroad you trample on and defile with spitting those
Crosses which you would have mee to doe reverence unto. I
cannot bee perswaded yourselves beleive what you say, seeing
your practize so contrarie to your words.

VI
CHRISTMASTIDE, 1631— HOLY INNOCENTS'
DAY
Philip II. of Spain— Death of Henry IF. of France — Pope
Adrian FI. and Pope Marcellus II. — The Shirt of the
Happy Womans making — Maurice, Prince of Orange —
^ueen Elizabeth — The Dying Man that smiled — Gillimer
and Bellizarius.
The guidance of this dayes exercise befaUing the Patient, she
rose and sung the hymne following : —
That rage, whereof the psalm doth say,
Why are the Gentiles grown so vaine ?
Appeared in part upon this day.
When Herod had the infants slaine.
Yet, as it saith, they raged in vaine.
Though many innocents they slew.
For Christ they purposed to have slaine.
Who all their counsels overthrew.
Thus still vouchsafe thou to restraine
All Tyrants, Lord, pursuing thee ;
Thus let our vast desires be slaine,
That thou mayst living in us bee.
So whilst wee shall enjoy our breath.
Wee of thy Love our songs will frame.
And with those Innocents our death
Shall also glorify thy Name.
In Type those many died for one.
That One for many more was slaine ;
And what they felt in Act alone,
Hee did in will and Act sustaine.

6o IHS
Lord, grant that what thou hast decreed
In will and Act wee may fulfill.
And though wee reach not to the deed.
From us, oh Lord, accept the will.
The Hymne being ended, she took the Chaire and thus began.
This solemne Festivall seemes, in my Apprehension, to bee
answerable to the Deaths Heads which the Aegyptians of old
were wont In greatest Banquets to have served up amongst
their Dainties, a counterpoize to the many delights and satis
factions that this good time useth to afford the Flesh. Least
they might perhaps steal away the heart by their too much
lushiousness, heres a public Caveat entered, the Imagination of
our owne Deaths being necessarily represented In the solemn
Commemoration that wee make of so many Innocents
slaughter. You cannot sever the thoughts of our owne and others deaths,
and wee can no sooner think of our Deaths, but wee begin to
bee weary of our Lives.
A handful of dust cast amongst Bees stlUeth their greatest
tumults. Theres no pleasure that can delight, nor strong Passion
that canne worke in a Mans mind, where the consideration ot
Death comes in place.
The Slaughter of those vast desires which our Hymne praies
for cannot by any reasons bee better furthered then by that
continuall appHcation of this corrosive Plaster, which certainely
eating out the dead flesh of all worldly desires and delights
from the soul of Man, they that think happines consists in a
licentious enjoyment of such trash as can never bee brought
to forgive the wrong that they Imagine to be done them by
this solemne Festivall Interposing itselfe, with sad considerations,
to the utter overthrow of all merry thoughts and pastimes,
but that they are so wise as to give no entertainment to such
sowre considerations as this day presseth upon them. But
that injury was intended, and therefore shall be requited. Not
onely the present Day itselfe, but the returne of it every week

IHS 6i
for the whole yeare following is branded with a mark of un-
happines. But that which worldly minds dislike this day for ought to
make it more precious In our eies. That it serves by admonish
ing us of our necessary Departure out of this world, to abate or
our Love to the things thereof, is a double benefitt in truth, and
I hope in all our Apprehensions. Wee have therefore resolved
not to wave the proper subject of this Day for satisfaction ot
carnall minds, but according to the practize of all holy men
which have ever made the Meditation of Death a necessary
Ingredient in all Compositions of Joy, and despising of this
worlds happines, a necessary preparation for the attainement
of that true happines which wee pretend unto, to make our
Histories of this day suit to these Intents, by representing
Death on the stage in his owne dreadfulnes, to perswade you
to make timely provision for his entertainment ; and by repre
senting the world on the other side in its owne Nakednes to
withdraw you firom further lose of Time and paines in the
pursuit thereof : since, however largely the world promiseth,
you shall clearely see It is not able to performe anything touch
ing that content which you seek after.
And to this Intent I shall tell you one of the most famous
passages that have beene ever acted In this worlds stage ;
and had it beene putt into a better hand, I doubt not but it
would have beene so judged by all the hearers thereof. But
as it can receive no grace by my weak delivery, so that it may
not suffer prejudice by any unskillfull variation of mine, I
shall endeavour to declare it in the same words, as neare as my
memory will serve me, in which the true and authoreticall
History hath related it according as it hath beene delivered unto
mee by them, who I am sure deceived me not.
When King PhiUip lay desperately sick, hee caused Florentius,
his Confessor and Preacher of his Court, to bee thrice sent for
at midnight, who presently came unto him with the Provlnclall
of Castile, and bringing with him Father Ignatius his Chiro
graph, who discoursed with the King of his approaching death.

62 IHS
exhorted him to submit himselfe to the Divine Pleasure of
God. The King gave Florentius, his Confessor, great thankes
for such comforts, and turning towards him, Truely (sayd hee)
my Florents, I am much obliged unto thee for those whole
some admonitions which thou hast continually raysed up and
refreshed my soul In thy sermons. Florents made answere,
that hee had nothing more in his wishes, if God prolonged
his life, then that hee should now vow that hee would build
a chappell in the honour of the Holy and Immaculate Con
ception of the Virgin Mary, and perswade the Pope that he
should at last decide the Controversy which had beene so long
debated thereabout.
To whom the King, Doe not you remember (sayd hee) in
your sermon on Ashwednesday, that one of your Auditours
should finish his last Day this present Lent ? That touched
me, and now the fatali houre is upon mee. But shall I bee
partaker of everlasting Felicity ? — and then great heavines and
Anxiety supprized his mind, and then hee presently sayd to his
Confessor, Thou hast not hitherto used the right course of heal
ing mee. Which when the Confessor understood of the
medicining for the body, the King added, I am not solicitous
of my body and temporal! disease, but to my soul. To whom
the Confessor, I have done what I could. That which remaines
Is to be left to Gods Providence. And upon this occasion
Florentius did largely discourse of the mercies of God, and
brought unto his remembrance those things which hee had
laudably performed for Christian religion. But the King
answered, Ah, how happy had I beene if I had lived in a Desert
these three and twenty yeares wherein I have held this
kingdome. To whom Florentius sayd that his Majestie
might performe even now also an acceptable duty to God, if
hee would cast downe all earthly things, his kingdome, dignity.
Life and salvation at the feet of his crucified Saviour Jesus
Christ, and committ aU to his will. Then the King sayd.
Very willingly will I doe this, and even in this very moment ;
whatever God hath given mee, my Principalities, my Power,

IHS 63
and my Life itselfe, I lay downe at the feet of Jesus Christ,
the Saviour crucified for mee ; whose Image he did kisse with
singular affection, and further sayd to Florentius : Now, truly
thou hast ministered egregious Comforts to my soul, and shall
henceforth endeavour that it may bee openly signified to the
people that I, at the point of death, have acknowledged all
things that are in this world to bee but vaine things, and this
very kingly Dignity which, during Life may be splendent
and pleasant, but in the point of death it is very bitter and
troublesome ; and so hee did joyfully render up his spirit to
God the heavenly Father as became a Christian King. Before
his death hee did Ukewise exhort his sonnes to all Piety, and in
especlall his eldest borne. Hee admonished that hee should
well weigh that hee also was mortal!, and therefore should so
institute both his Life and the administration of his kingdome
that it might not repent him at liis end of his kingly power
and Dignity as it now befeU him, breathing out his soul. That
hee should bee a Father of the poore and of the Common-wealth,
that hee should be enflamed with the zeal of Gods glory, and
that hee should account the dishonor done to the Divine
Majesty to be put upon himselfe. Then hee gave him a sealed
Codicil!, and charged him exactly to observe all that which was
therein contained ; and presenting him likewise the Image of
Christ crucified, hee sayd. This Image thy great Grandfather
Charles the Flft gave my Father, which I now doe, as it were
by will, bequeath unto thee. Thou shalt reverence it as a
Christian Catholick King, and by the beholding thereof
remember thine owne Mortality.
As concerning his will, he bequeathed nothing else therein
than Admonitions belonging to Piety, and diligently recom
mended to his Sonne the Monastery at Madrill built by his
Mother, and the Colledge ofthe Jesuites which is at Salamantica,
and gave Commandment that his Body should bee buried with
slender Pompe or without many or magnificent Ceremonies, and
that it should not bee prepared with spices. For being so great
a sinner I accompte myselfe unworthy of Buriall at all, sayd he.

64 IHS
This was the end of that great Monarch, whose Devotion
that it was not tighter sett in many Particulars deserves, mee-
thlnks, rather Teares than Censures ; but ever where hee went
most wrong himselfe, there perhaps hee may most confirme us
in the truth. But leaving him to Gods mercy, touching his
soules estate, I wish that the remembrance of his Acknowledg
ment touching this worlds vanities may ever remaine fresh in
mine owne and all your minds.
The Patient having ended, after a good Pause allowed for
Consideration of this wonderful! History, the Cheerefull
began. A Concurrent to King Phillip of Spaine was Henry the
Fourth in France, the Father of our Royall Queen Mary.
How his tragicall end made proofe of the misery of humane
Condition is too well understood to be repeated in this Com-
panie. But that which went before his death is not perhaps so
generally knowne, though farre more observable in my Judge
ment, and most suitable to the Theme propounded by the
Patient. Whatever on Earth could be devised for the affording of
Content and Joy might justly seeme to bee united in the Person
and prosperity of this Prince : a large, faire, flourishing King-
dome, more honour from abroad, more Love at home of his
subjects then ever any of his predecessors had. A strong Body, a
faire Issue, abundance of treasure, a setled peace, and what
could bee imagined to give Content that hee wanted ? Besides
a Festivall time, the Queenes Coronation being then solemnized,
debarred out all Cares and businesses, and in a thousand kind
of vanities brought in mirth and Jollity Into the Court.
How full of joy and Comfort may wee deeme this Prince ;
and yet, alas, it is all otherwise. His heart is swallowed up with
greife and Melancholy, though hee knows not why. Hee riseth
early from his wearied bed, and goes to masse. That hee heares
devoutly ; at his returne they bring him his Children, and,
amongst others, the Duke of  , whom he loved dearely, and
In whom hee tooke great delight ; but then very pensively hee

IHS 65
bid carry the Child to breakfast, and turning himselfe away
sadly, casteth himselfe upon his Bed to sleepe, if he might. But
rest forsakes through anguish of mind, which makes him rise
and fall on his knees in prayer to God, from him to find Com
fort, which no where else he could. Then againe hee lies downe,
and againe riseth to praier. This he did three times. In the
end, to shift by change of Place the wearisomenes of his owne
thoughts, hee goes to walk in the gallery till dinner. Costly
vlctualls restore his body, but they refresh not his mind.
Thats still encombred with perplexity, which the noble men
perceiving and plttying, strive by divers merry passages to
allay, themselves mutually laughing to draw him on to mirth.
With much adoe they force a fained smile or two from him,
though naturally of a most pleasant disposition. In the end
hee breakes of all with a French Proverb : Wee have laughed
enough for Friday, wee may well weepe on Sunday. And so
they did indeed. But of his death I meane not to speake at
this time. Its the insufficiency of all worldly things to breed
comfort that I have told this story for. In proofe of which I
suppose wee may read, as it were In text Letters, and withaU
where indeed true happines Is to be found. Which hee, seeking
it In Gods service, and particularly in praise, directeth us
unto. The Cheife seeing the Story ended, and by the fixed eies of
all the Auditours perceiving that they esteemed silence the fittest
Descant on so sad a Tragedy, conforming her Demeanour to
their solemne Countenances and stlllnes, did by a gentle Invita
tion of her hand direct the Affectionate to the Chaire, who,
with great reverence to her and all the rest, thus began and
proceeded. My Sisters have severally told you of two Kings. I shall bring
two Popes to serve on this Jury, Adrian the Sixt, and Mar
cellus the Second. It Is not much above a hundred years agoe
that the first, and Uttle above halfe the time that the other
lived ; both of them for Wisedome, Learning, and Integrity
passing any of that Rank that went before them many hundreds
6

66 IHS
of yeares, and both of them advanced from low degree, which
should have made their happines seeme the greater to them
selves, which to aU others seemed the very Crowne of humane
Felicity. But heare the Evidence that themselves give. Adrian
wills it to be graven on his Tombe, that hee esteemed nothing
to have befaUen him more unhappily then that hee had ralgned,
and MarceUus, even in the heat of the Congratulation which
all the world offered him, grows into so deepe displeasure with
that which others terme soveralgn happines, that repeating
Pope Adrian his Epitaph, hee brake of his dinner, and smiting
his hand on the Table hee cries out, I see not how they that
hold such high dignities can bee saved.
Goe now and seeke for Content and happines in the pro
priety of a few acres of Land, or in the Command of a few silly
people, or In the wantonnes of a few vaine pleasures, which
neither Kings nor Popes could find In all what their royaU
Estate afford. Is hee not a mad man that hopes to fiU him
selfe in the shallow pltts of clvlU or ecclesiastlcall Dignity,
when hee sees that the overflowing Rivers of Crownes and
triple Mitres leave their possessors soules as dry and thirsty
of Content as the sands of Arabia are of Moysture ? If neither
Kings nor Popes can find Joy or Happines, who can hope to
doe It in this world ?
The Affectionate having concluded, least the height of
examples should lesse move those of lower rank, the Moderatour
thought good by a more familiar Instance to sette forth the
Matter. A great Lady of Naples having in the prime of her youth lost
her husband, and being left with only one sonne, grew so dis
tasted with the uncertainty of this worlds happines, which
had deceived her in its fairest blomings, and so in Love with
vertue and godlynes, wherein alone shee saw true Content
was to be found, as utterly shutting of all other designes, she
makes it her onely end to become good, and to make her sonne
such ; which, as these desires, when they are reall, never want
effect, shee did by Gods grace so accomplish, as shee became

IHS 67
in that great Citty the cheife Example of vertue In herselfe,
and of happines in her sonne.
Her son comming to Mans Estate, was desirous to travail
for the perfecting by experience of that wisedome which hee
had learned by precepts ; to which his Mother, that more
tendred his improvement in good qualities then the satisfaction
of her owne Affections, gave a willing though a sad Consent.
And so hee proceeds from one famous Citty to another, every
where giving such proofes of excellent vertue and abiUties as
his Mothers heart melts with joy and desires upon the con
tinuall reports which on all hands are made unto her of his
noble demeanours. At last, comming to Bologna, a Feaver
ceazeth him, which hee finding to bee mortaU, calls for Pen and
Ink, and having writt and sealed a Letter, hee sweares all his
servants that they should not give any manner of Intimation of
his death to his Mother till they received the answeare of that
Packett which hee delivered unto them ; the tenor whereof
was, that hee was well, and hoped to bee better, and shortly to
attaine the uttermost in all good things, which shee and hee
sought for ; that as shee was his good Mother and loved him,
she would procure a shirt to bee immediately made up for him
by the hands of a happy woman.
The carefull Mother, upon the receit of these Letters, assem
bling' all her kinred at a feast — the last that shee ever made
after her husbands death — served up for the last course her
sonnes letter, and besought them of all Love to help her in
the accomplishment thereof. Everyone (though they were very
many) began to excuse themselves, alledging so many misfor
tunes, as shee herself could not but grant they had reason to
deny her that which they could not really and truely performe.
Whereupon some of her wiser freinds advised without more
adoe to cause a shirt to bee made up, by whom she thought
good, and to lett it be sent to her son, adding that it was un
doubtedly but a youthful Conceit, which would bee much
easier perhaps deluded then accompHshed. Neither is it fitt
for me, replied that good Lady, to delude whom I so much

68 IHS
love, and who hath so much affiance in mee. Nor can I
think it a light matter which my son so earnestly desires;
besides, the very stile of the letter speakes it is a desire of Judge
ment, and not of fancy. I will not therefore be wanting in
what I may. With this resolution shee riseth next day, and
first goes amongst her acquaintances and afterwards amongst
strangers, as shee heard of any whose prosperous estate gave her
hope to attaine by their meanes what shee desired. But all In
value ; upon the first opening of her request everyone starts
back, and not onely tell her, but make it evident by recompt
ing their particular afllictions, that shee was not the woman
that was sought for. The good Lady, after fourty dales spent
In this search, and many hundreds of persons spoken unto,
returnes her sonne answere that hee should quiet his mind by
wisdome, for to give satisfaction to his desire was impossible.
I have sought, sayd shee, all Naples over as it were with a
Candle, and find nothing but misery in all Mens and Womens
Condition. Most have their Calamities hang upon the rappers
of their dores ; and they that have no greife without to others
have two within.
Upon the receit of these letters his servants returne to
Naples, and presenting themselves unexpectedly, shee Instantly
reads in the mourning habits the sad Message which their
tongues could not utter. The noble Lady having wept
awhile, and payd Nature her due, at last gives place to reason,
and drying her teares, comforts both her selfe and her servantes,
telling them that since the common position of this world was
nothing but Misery, as shee by particular survey had found,
it was great unreasonablenes for her not to undergoe that part
thereof which befell her by Gods appointment.
It was a witty Invention (sayd the Cheife) if it were not a
truth, which you have recompted, most honoured Moderatour,
and sensibly leading our Imaginations to the veiw of this
worlds wretchednes. In which respects it may very weU
serve, as statues doe, though not for upholding, yet for orna
ment of royall Buildings, a gracefull setting of, if not a sup-

IHS 69
porting argument to that Conclusion which this dales stories
all of them inferre : That the best and fairest Happines of
this world is begun in vanity, grows up with vexation, and
even ends in repentance.
That Difference of religion may not derogate from this
truth, God makes the greatest Opposites in this Age to agree
therein, that there may bee no place for CaviU, where there is
no liberty of appeale or controule of what part soever a man
bee. Papist or Protestant, hee hath an over-ruling example.
Maurice, Prince of Orange, that in everything was so averse
was in his last end so answerable to Phillip, as we must
needs say whatever els may be disputable, yet this is plaine and
certaine. All tyme Is lost but what Is bestowed In Gods service
When hee find his sicknes mortall, hee forbidds the mentioning
of any worldly Affiilres. When the Minister tells him that
God had made him an incomparable Prince, so that the whole
world admires his Actions, hee keeps silence, as If it were noth
ing appertaining to him. But when hee beginnes to speak of the
breach of Gods Commandments, hee opens his mouth, and
sayth, I have sinned ; and instantly doubles it with greater vehe
mency, his teares bearing wittnesse how it afflicted him at the
heart, I have sinned grossely. When hee is exhorted to putt
himselfe on Gods disposall, hee answeres. So I doe.
When Comforts are propounded hee closed his hands, con
fesseth his faith, and shutts up all. I take my refuge unto the
great Mercy of God, and I beleive that Jesus Christ died for
mee on the Crosse, wherein I putt all my trust. I need not
goe over all the particulars, the booke being extant ; the
summe of all is, all his Greife was that hee had not served God
better. All his care and feare was, least his repentance shoulde
not bee sufficient. The best comfort in this world that hee
could find, was Gods word read or repeated to him. The
most wellcome Persons were the Ministers. The most accept
able discourse was touching Gods mercy. The onely thing
he longed for was true repentance. I shall not need to make

70 IHS
the application of these things, they speake so effectually them
selves. If wisdome and happines lie In this kind of disposition,
and these kinds of Practizes at the time of sicknes and at the
approach of Death, to steare our Lives a contrary Course in
the time of health must needs bee extreame madnes and the
height of Misery.
To the testimony of so many men give mee Leave (sayd the
Guardian) to read the evidence of a woman, that the proofe
of the thing may bee compleat on all hands, and both sexes
may have their proper witnesses to Informe them.
In the yeare 1586 Queene Elizabeth told this whole state
In the representative body of the Parliament, that Happines
was so farre estranged from this world that the first steppe
towards it was to bee quickly gone out of the world. Heare
her owne words. I am not Ignorant of all kinds of Lives : for
I have obeyed, and I have governed : I have had good Neigh
bours and also evill : I have found trechery where I trusted :
I have evill bestowed benefitts, and I have beene evlU reported
of when I have done well. When I call these things past to
mind, see and behold the things present, and expect fiiture
things, I think them most happy who dy soone. I think them
most happy who dy soone : this Is her censure, which addeth
to that you have heard. Meethinks wee may boldly conclude
that what is thus jointly ratified by the Defender of the Faith,
the Christian and Catholick Kings, must needs bee an orthodox
Christian, Catholick verity, that this world Is a vale of misery,
and that there is no true and solid Comfort to bee found,
whilst wee are here on earth, but in the faithfuU service of
God.
This is that which you propounded at the first and have
clearly proved by these Examples. God grant that our assents
to this truth may appeare as well In our Lives as it doth now
in our faces.
The Guardian having ended, the Submisse told the story
following : A holy Man having closed his eies to dy, hearing
the standers by making great moane for him, and to talke ot

IHS 71
death with evidence of much af&ightment and perplexity,
smiled three severall times. Whereat they amazedly demand
ing the reason, hee thus made answere :
I smiled first to see you so much afraid of Death, which you
can by no meanes escape. Next I smiled to see you unprepared
for that which you are so much afrayd of ; and lastly, I smiled
to see you mistake touching my death, which is the entrance
into everlasting happinesse.
The Obedient concluded the day with the story follow
ing :
The famous Gillimer, being first overcome by Bellizarus
and afterwards streightly beseiged, upon the yielding himselfe to
mercy desired a Loafe of Bread, a spunge, and a harpe to bee
given him : the first to satisfy his hunger, having tasted no food
In many dales ; the next to dry his teares, the continuall
streames whereof had perished one of his eies ; and the last to
vent his grelf by, which through concealment broke his heart.
Being afterwards lead to Constantinople and brought before the
Emperor, considering the strange successe of humane condi
tion, that of a mighty King hee was now become a servant,
hee cryed out aloud : Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
The Emperor, moved with compassion, gave him certaine
lands in France, where hee ended his Life.

vn
CHRISTMASTIDE, 1631, DECEMBER 29TH
Brother Genadius — -Cinesius and Enagrius — Bishop Sidonius-
The Forty Martyrs — Michael Mercatus.
Song by the Submisse
O happy you, that have subdued
The force o th worlds desire !
And into th fort of solitude
For safety do retire.
You fled from freedome so supposed.
In straitnes freedome find,
Because true freedome is inclosed
I th circuit of the mind.
The world and fortune that deprive
From doing you despite ;
Dead unto Men, to God alive,
Which gives Life true delight.
That soule, sayth God, which I affect,
I will withdraw apart ;
And tell unto it in effect
The secrets of my heart.
Think then you that retired live
For Gods dear Love and dread.
His Love your soules desire doth give
RetirM Lives to lead.
So that with him you may conferre.
When sole your selves you dceme ;
And so alone lesse never are
Then when alone you seeme.
7J

IHS 73
Faith of your Fort is Governor ;
Love is Leiftennant there ;
Hope is ordained Officer
The Ensigne for to beare.
Contempt of wealth is Treasurer,
Which workes no guile for gaine ;
Within whose coffers never there
Corrupting drosse remaines.
Pure Chastity the Charge doth take
The Cloyster cleane to keepe.
And of her thoughts the brome doth make.
Wherewith shee doth it sweepe.
Obedience, then, with sacrifice
In value worth exceeds.
Is ready for each exercize
As Duty deemeth neede.
Perseverance is Centinell ;
The watch-word. Watch and Pray,
Whose due observance doing well
The Heavens will repay.
Though earthly things (sayd the Cheife) to them that are un
experienced seeme full of happines, yet to those that have made
any small triall they are found so full of Insufficiency that most
men perhaps would bee easily persuaded to call back their Affec
tions If they knew where else to place them ; but now because
Love cannot but work, and desire pursue something, there seemes
to most Men a kind of Necessity Imposed on them to follow that
which they see heere below, because those things that are above,
being farre removed out of sight, they can scearce bee perswaded
that they are at all. The Inevldency of the things after this Life
breeds a doubt in most Mens minds of the certainty whether
they bee or no. And the Affections, that, like the Conclusion,
foUow the weaker part, thinking it ground enough to be cold in
the Love of what they have not knowne ; and in the feare of
what they have not scene, spend all their strength in the em
bracing or avoyding of the good or evill that falls under their

74 IHS
sences. Further then they reach few Men wiU adventure ; hold
ing it great folly to leave the hold of what wee have in our hands
for the apprehension of that which is represented unto us in hope.
It will be, therefore, in my opinion, sweet Companions, most
profitable to carry up our thoughts, that are amated with the
wretchednes of this world, to the meditation of those better
things in Heaven by the recompting of some such story as may
tend to the Confirmation of our mutual vows touching the
despising of all which the world tenders unto us now, for the
Love of that which faith promiseth us hereafter to enjoy.
What an Absurdity seemes It to flesh and Blood to put a
Mans selfe to certaine paine here in expectation of future Joy,
or to defy present for the dread of after Torment.
To take away this perplexity theres nothing more effectuall
then the remembrance of those proofes which God hath some
times extraordinarily given of the certainty and largenes both
of the rewards and punishments that shall crowne good or evill
Actions. I pray, therefore, let this dales Stories bee to this
effect. But let them bee such as may suit with the excellency
and dignity of our former discourses. And because that aU
Mens minds, when they enter into these meditations, doe first
stumble at the very entrance of the other world ; that is, how
it can bee that there should bee any sensible apprehension of
things when the senses are dissolved with the bodies corruption
in the grave ; I pray you, dear Patient, to remove this block
by the recompting of that admirable passage which our Visitour
lately told us out of St. Augustine, if I mistake not.
You mistake not at all (repUed the Patient), for It was St.
Augustine that recounts it in a certaine Letter which hee wrott
to one Euodius. This Particular I afterwards learned, for the
excellency of the matter made me curious to informe myselfe
more fuUy of it.
You did therein (replied the Affectionate) answerably to
that good discretion which you use in all other matters. The
knowledge of these circumstances not onely gives much satisfac
tion to the hearers, but adds Authority to the relation itselfe.

IHS 75
But, I pray you, proceed, for our desires brooke no delay. You
shall have it (sayd the Patient), neither of mine, nor of any
others composing, but in the very words of St. Augustine
himselfe, for so did our Visitour, giving mee the story in
writing, advise, if ever Occasion were, I should recompt it.
Our brother Gennadius, famous amongst all and very deare
to us, that now Uves a physitian at Carthage, and was highly
esteemed for his skill at Rome, is, as thou knowest, a very
devout Man, most bountifuU in the free disposition of his mind,
and of unwearied Mercifullness touching the care of the poore.
Neverthelesse, as himselfe lately related, when hee was a young
man and very fervent in those kind of almesdeeds, hee fell into
a doubtfulnes whether there were Indeed any other life after
Death. Now God, no way purposing to desert this mind ot
his and these workes of mercy, there appeared unto him in
sleepe a yong man very conspicuous and regardfuU, and sayd
unto him : Follow me. Whom whilest Gennadius followed,
hee came unto a certaine citty, from the right hand part
whereof hee beganne to heare the sound of Musique most delect
able beyond all usuall or knowne sweetnesse. And whilest
hee was musing what it might bee, the other told him that they
were the Hymnes of blessed Men and Saints. What he reported
to have scene on the left hand, I now remember not. In the
end Gennadius awaketh and his dreame departed, and hee
thought no more of the Person then of the dreame. But
behold another Night the same yong Man comes to him againe,
and demands whether hee knew him. Gennadius made
answere, hee knew him full well. The other asked him where
hee had known him. Gennadius his memory was not want
ing what to answere, but with as great facility as things freshly
done, remembered both all the vision and those hymnes of the
Saints which hee came to the hearing by his guidance. Where
upon the other asked whether hee had seen those things which
hee now related In sleep or waking. Gennadius answered. In
sleepe. You say right, replied the other ; you saw them in
your sleep ; but know that what thou now seest thou likewise

76 IHS
seest in thy sleepe. Gennadius hearing this beleived it to bee
so, and by his acknowledgement confirmed it. Then hee that
taught the Man added further, saying, Where is now thy Body ?
In my chamber, sayd hee. And dost thou know, repHed the
other, that those eies in thy body are now bound up, shutt and
silent, and thou seest nothing at aU with them ? To which
Gennadius, not knowing what to answere, became mute.
Whereupon the other in this perplexity tooke the hint to open
unto him that which hee had intended to reach by these former
questions, and immediately sayd : And those eies of thy flesh
are now altogether still In this sleepe on thy bed without any
manner of operation, and yet, neverthelesse, are the selfe same
with which thou now lookest on mee and usest in this vision.
So likewise, when thou shalt bee dead, the eies of thy
flesh ceasing from all worke, there shall yet remaine a Life to
thee whereby thou shalt live, and a sence by which thou shalt
be sensible. Take heed, therefore, that thou doubt no more
whether there bee any life after death. By this meanes, that
faithfull Man affirmes, his doubtfulnes was removed. Who,
instructing him about the Providence and mercy of God (for
he was so taught by a naturall Instance), yet his mind being
illuminated by the brlghtnes of heavenly Grace, hee was changed,
as the Apostle speaketh, from Glory to Glory, even as by the
Spirit of the Lord.
The Patient having finished her Story, the Cheerefull
beganne. —
If the Creditt of my Author were equall to St. Augustines
my story would be in no whitt inferior to that which you
have heard. I cannot deliver It upon so bold warranty. No.
Sophronlus, that relates it in his Spirituali Middow, is not so
authentick a wittnesse. If any refuse it I will not contend.
Let him have his opinion, so he will allow me mine. The
approbation of many exceUent Men hath in my Judgement
sett the seale of truth to it. None can deny it in the morali :
I believe it is so In the Fact. The famous Cinesius, chosen
a Bishop almost as soone as baptized, laboured earnestly to

IHS 77
bring Enagrius, his Companion in Philosophy, to the fellow
ship of the same true relllglon which he had himselfe by Gods
mercy attained, was by him still answered that hee could not
condescend thereto, cheifly because of the Impossibility of the
resurrection and the unllkelyhood of that great repayment
which our holy Faith promiseth to them that bestow their
substance on the Poore for Christs sake, that they should
receive treasure in heaven for that which they had parted
with on earth, a hundredfold, and everlasting life for vantage.
This to him, as hee professed, seemed but a fancy in them that
beleived it, and a subtilty, if not worse, in them that perswade
it. Cinesius, like a true freind to Enagrius and a faithful
Servant to his Master, ceased not with all diligence to
instruct, exhort, and intreat him, till in the end the light
of God shining Into his heart, he gained him to become as
strong in true faith as before he was obstinate in the errors
of corrupt reason. Shortly after hee was baptized, intending
to free himselfe of all worldly superfluities, that hee might
the more expeditely runne the race that hee had beganne,
hee brought unto the Bishop a great summe of mony, saying.
Take this here, and dispose as thou knowest best amongst
the poore, and give me a bill under thy hand, that I may
receive proportionably, as thou hast told mee I should hereafter
doe in heaven from the hand of Christ. Cinesius gladly
received the Mony, Immediately bestowed It, and under his
hand gave the writing that the other required.
Enagrius, after some yeares spent in holines, comming to dy,
called his sonnes, and delivering the obligation which hee had
received from Cinesius unto them without acquainting them
how it was. When you bury me, sayd he, put this deed into
my hands ; which they accordingly with all care performed. The
Bishop, that knew nothing ofthe obUgation, early In the morning
sending for Enagrius his children, demanded of them whether
that they had put anything in the grave with their Father.
They, doubting he might suspect the burying of some Mony,
answered, Nothing, my. Lord, but the usuall Gravecloths.

78 IHS
Nothing at all, sayd the Bishop — no writing, nor Paper ; are
you sure ?
Yes, sayd they, remembring themselves. Our Father,
Indeed, at his death gave us a certaine writing, and charged
us to put it into his hands when wee put him into the grave.
But what the contents thereof may bee wee are altogether
ignorant ; for he, not pleasing to reveale it himselfe, wee durst
not presume to open it. Whereupon the Bishop declared unto
them his Vision, and sending for the Clergy and the Cheife
Magistrates of the Citty, went immediately to the grave,
which, after they had opened, perceiving the writing in his
hand, the Bishop tooke it and read it, and found, newly written
by Enagrius his owne hand : I, Enagrius the Philosopher, send
greeting to the most holy Lord Cinesius the Bishop. I have
received the debt specified under thy hand In this writing,
and acknowledge myself to be contented, neither have I any
right against thee touching that gold which I gave to thee, and
by thee to Christ, our Lord God and Saviour.
They that were present, hearing this, brake out into great
outcries of prayer and thankesgiving to God that of his
infinite mercy was pleased for the satisfaction of our weaknes
to give such evidency of proofes touching the InfaUibiUty of
his promises.
This is a Story which I the more boldly report unto you,
because I have heard it to have been publickly delivered by
a famous Divine in a very solemne Assembly. But however
the Action passed, wee have a sure word concerning the truth
of the Doctrine Itselfe, even the Testimony of that great
Doctor of the Gentiles, That every Man shall receive according
to the things which hee hath done in his body, whether they
bee good or bad.
Undoubtedly they did (sayd the Affectionate), and in
confirmation of this latter pointe, that strict Judgement and
severe punishment shall follow wicked deeds after this Life,
I shall tell you a story every way admirable as being of most
famous Persons, conteining rare passages, and of unquestion
able Verity.

IHS 79
I pray you of whom Is your story (sayd the Cheife), and by
whom is it written ?
It Is written by Gregory Turonensls (sayd the Affectionate ),
and Is of that most renowned Man, both for learning and
holines, Sidonius, the Bishop of Arverene in France, who
being, as my Author sayth, wholly given over to the service
of God, so that he lead the life of heaven here on earth.
Two Preists of his, rising up against him by dispoyUng
him of his Authority and stripping him of his meanes, brought
him both to great Necessity and Shame.
But the Judgement of God was quicker to punish then their
MaUce to performe the uttermost of their evill Intendments.
One of these sonnes of Belial, having threatened over Night
to drag the holy Bishop out of the Church upon the first sound
to Morning Prayers ; but before hee could go out, the necessity
of Nature urging him, hee withdraws apart, willing his servant
to attend, which, whilst he doth, a Messenger comes posting
from his Companion in Evill, upbraiding his sluggishnes : That
it was now broad day-light and they had yet done nothing.
The long stay of the Master, and the importunity of the
Messenger, forced the servant to call first ; and, receiving no
answere, goes into the Place where his Master was, whom hee
found dead, his bowells having gushed out below. The feare-
fulnes of this Judgement abated both the courage and power
of his companion ; so that the Bishop was Immediately, by
the helpe of good Men, restored to all that which hee had
beene deprived of by these wicked ones. But being too good
for earth, God shortly after, by a Fever, sent for him to heaven ;
which, the holy man perceiving, caused himselfe in his sick
bed to bee carried into the Church, whither instantly by troupes
resorted not onely Men and Women, but the very Children
also, with one mournfull voice crying : Why dost thou forsake
us, thou good Pastor ? To whom dost thou leave us all
Orphanes ? What a Life shall wee have when thine is departed ?
Who shall henceforth season us with the salt of heavenly
wisedom ? Or who shall by prudent reproofe inforce us to

8o IHS
the Feare of Gods Name ? These and the like things spake
the Multitude in a confused Manner, and mixed Expressions
of words and Teares ; whom, the holy man having a good
while accompanied in their weeping, at last the Spirit of
Courage and Comfort descending downe upon him, hee began
to courage and comfort them, saying, Feare not, my Children ;
behold, Apeunculus my Brother liveth, and hee shall bee your
Preist and Pastor. They, not understanding him, thought
that what they heard was not intended to them, but spoken by
him in Exstasy. Hee had scarce surrendered his faithfulle Soule
to Heaven, when that cursed Preist, left alive to a more fearefull
vengance, ceazed upon all that Sidonius had left behind on
earth, and flattering himselfe in his abominable sinne to wipe
out the Terror which his fellows horrible Confusion had bred,
insults upon the Saints livelesse Corps.
At last (sayd hee) God hath looked downe upon my wrong
and hath revenged mee of myne Enemy, having taken him from
that Dignity which hee unworthily usurped, and hath bestowed
it on me, whom hee hath found more faithfull.
In these and the like Conceits hee proudly hurries up and
downe the Citty. And on the Sunday following Invites the
whole people to a solemne Feast, where, contemning aU others,
hee setts downe in the cheife seat, and takes that honour to
himselfe which no man ought to take but hee that is caUed
of God. Having begun to eat without feare, hee calls for wine
to encrease his Mirth ; which the Cup-bearer, with a low
obeisance delivering unto him : I saw, my Lord (sayd hee)
a vision to Night which, if you give leave, I will declare.
The sadness of the relatours countenance afirlghted the
unhappy Man, so that hee could not tell what readily to
answere. Whereupon the other proceeded thus :
This Sunday Night I saw a stately Pallace, and therein vras
a throne placed, wherein a Judge satt seeming to exceU all
others in Power. Many Preists in white vestiments attended
neere, and an innumerable Company of all other sorts of
people round about him. Whilest with great amazement

IHS 8i
I beheld these things, I perceived blessed Sidonius earnestly
contending with that Preist, once so deare unto thee, and so
ever unhappy in his most wretched death. After some whiles
pleading, Sidonius having convicted him, immediately the
King commanded that the other should be cast Into the Inner
most dungeon. Hee was scarce removed when Sidonius,
rising up againe, began to accuse thee also, saying that thou
likewise was a partner in that wickednes for which this other
was condemned. Whereupon the Judge, beginning to enquire
whom he might send to warne thy appearance, I fearefuUy
drew back doubting with my selfe, least peradventure, if I were
knowne to bee there, it might bee Imposed on mee. Whilest
I silently cast these things in my heart, lo ! I find my selfe
on a suddaine left alone with the Judge, who, beckoning
unto mee, I, not able to endure the brightnes of his coun
tenance, mine eies became dimme and aU my Joynts fell
a-quaklng. But hee cherefuUy sayd unto mee, Feare not,
yong-man, but goe thy way to that Preist and will him
immediately to come to his triall, for Sidonius hath desired
to have him summoned.
Take heed, therefore (sayd the Cup-bearer to the Preist),
that thou make no delay ; for with a vehement protestation
the King charged mee to tell thee aU this, saying unto mee.
If thou forbeare to speake what I have commanded, thou shalt
dy surely a cursed death.
Hee had no sooner ended these words then the affrighted
Preist, letting the cup fall out of his hand, fell downe likewise
eternally dead.
Thus (sayth my author) were the Judgements of God upon
these two rebellious Preists, the first perishing with the
destruction of Arrius, and the other condemned after the
example of Simon Magus, falHng downe from the high soarings
of Pride into the lowest pitt of Condemnation. And the like
end shall in the end befall those that, swelling with Pride
and envy, oppose and persecute that goodnes which they
cannot, or will not, themselves reach unto.
7

82 IHS
The Affectionate having ended, the Moderatour began.
I will warrant the truth of my story ; touching the excellency
of It, yourselves shall bee Judge. And so, having before obtained
the priviledge for that once to read her story, which shortnes
of time and other occasions had not given leave fully to finish,
much lesse to committ to memory, she proceeded.
Llcinius, Brother-in-Law to Constantine the great, and
partner with him in the Empire, upon the Breach of Friendship
betweene them, casting away Feare and all other respects which
had formerly caused him to dissemble, makes open profession
of his secret Enmity against Christ himselfe, and against all
that called upon his holy Name, and were called by it. Fire
long-smothered breakes forth with greater violence, and
suppressed Malice fiercer when it comes to uncontrouled vent.
A publick Edict is made that the fading worship of Idols shah
bee reyived, the encreasing worship of Christ shalbe abolished.
Fire and sword and gibbetts, sacks and wheeles and scourges,
and all other Instruments that cruelty could Invent, are sett
forth every where to open view, first by their sight to terrify,
and, if that prevaile not, by the bitter sence of torment
to enforce the galnesayers. Barbarous minded Judges, bloudy-
handed Ministers, are picked out for execution of these laws.
Spies are suborned. Accusers are rewarded. Curious inquisition
to find out Christians is the best service that can be done the
State. There is no possibility of Concealment ; there is no
mercy in discovery. Many fly and keep their Faith safe, with
the losse of all other things. Others stay for the Love of other
things, and loose themselves. Some beginne well, but fainting
in their tryalls, like ships driven from their Anchor-hold, make
shipwrack in the Haven. In the Emperore Campe, which
was then in Armenia, there was one company of souldiers,
small in Number, being onely 40, but great in reputation for
many notable Exploits which they had performed ; Cappodocians
by their country and Christians by their religion, and that they
so openly professed as the whole Army takes Notice of it. The
Judge deputed in this Commission, whose Name was Agricola,

IHS 83
resolves to beginne here, hoping that, as in Conquest of warre,
the great Citties and holds being taken lesser Forts come in
of themselves, upon this famous bands deniall of Christ there
would be no other of inferior Quality dare to confesse him for
their God. The first Battery that he lales is faire words, mag
nifying their approved valour, their mutual Love, and sober
Conversation, for which things sake they might assure them-
seh'es, as they all well deserved, to find great reward from the
Emperors bounty and Justice if now they overthrow not all
by an obstinate disobedience of absolute Commande, which was
that they should offer incense to the Gods upon the Altar there
prepared. They joyntly made answere the demand was unjust, and the
Conditions unequall. They hoped for better Crownes then the
Emperor himselfe wore by serving Jesus Christ, the true and
onely Lord of heaven and earth, and therefore by this double
right to be much rather obeyed and served then Llcininius.
The angry Judge advised them to bethink themselves well
what they lost, and what they were like to incurre, and to
bring him a better resolution, in the meane time committing
them to safe ward.
The next day they appeared, and the unchangablenes of
their Answeres breeds a change of Agricolas proceedings.
Fierce words, base Tants, bitter Threats, are heaped on them,
which they answere, though mildly, yet boldly and plainly,
telling him that what he thinks to fright them with Is that
which they above all other things long after, to dy a speedy, a
painefull, and a shamefuU death for Christs sake. Agricolas
incensed rage was desirous to have satisfied their strange
request ; but divers good respects perswaded him to forbeare
till their Captains comming, which was not till seven dales,
when suddenly they are sent for, and that with such terrors of
words and other frlghtfull circumstances as a chill paleness of
their faces manifested some fearefull apprehensions to have
ceazed their hearts. Which one of them named Grion
perceiving, he began to cheare them up by the remembrance

84 IHS
of former dangers. Wee have, through Gods power strength
ening us, withstood (sayd he), my Brethren, with undaunted
courage, as ye well know, thousands of Enemies that have
assaulted us, and come of victorious, where the whole Army
fled ; and now theres no more at most than the Judge, our
Captaine, and the Devill that assault us, and shall wee faint
in so great odds as fourty hath of these ? Or shall God now
at last abandon us In the laying downe of our Lives for his
Honour, that hath ever heretofore so strongly and faithfully
assisted, when it was but the Emperors pleasure and service
that wee went upon and hazarded ourselves for ? Let us Uft
up our eies whence our help cometh, and carry up our thoughts
to those Joyes whither wee are going. Having thus spoken,
they joyntly repeated that Psalme of David which beginnes.
Save mee o God, for thy Names sake, and avenge mee in thy
strength. Thus armed, they presented themselves at the TribunaU, and
by wise answeres to what was objected, constant profession of
what they believed, and patient enduring ofthe Injuries which
were done to them, leave their enemies so confounded and
enraged, as taking time to bethink themselves of torments
answerable to the excesse of malice which they had conceived,
they for that Night returne the blessed Saints to their former
prison, where continuing in prayers, as some relate, they heard
a voice with greater Majesty of sound then can proceed from
mans brest, saying. Your beginnings are good, but happy is
hee that perseveres unto the end. But that which Is certain,
by St. Basils relation, is, that the next day towards evening
they were adjudged to bee put Into a great Lake neere unto the
walls of Sebast, and there to frelze to death, except they would
deny Christ Jesus ; on which condition they might, when
they desired, be taken out of the cold water and put into a
warme bath, which was ready prepared and at hand for the
enforcement of the Temptation and doubling of their tor
ment, as well by the sight of comfort as by the sence of
paine. The sentence that others trembled to heare, these

IHS 85
blessed souldiers of Christ Jesus received v/ith gladnes. As
soone as they come to the place they made hast to strip them
selves, and entering manfully up to their very chins, beseech
God with a joynt cry that as they went in so they might
come out, fourty Martyrs for his holy Names sake.
God heares and grants their Petitions (sayth St. Basil)
although hee made it good after an unexpected manner.
The Guard walk trembling on the shore, and the Martyrs
stand cheerefuUy in the water, encouraging themselves and one
another with thousand the like words as St. Basil reports. It
is a happy thing to enjoy the deUghts of Paradise.
Heaven shall restore with endlesse joy the momentary
Torments that wee now suffer. This bitter Night shall
be changed Into an everlasting day of Happines.
But the tender pitty of God, that cannot endure their
greife so long as themselves are content to endure It, setts
about a shorter period to their sufferings then themselves had
appointed, not by taking away of the praise, but by supply
of such comfort as mans heart is not able to conceive. The
Angels descend from Heaven, and by putting crowns on their
heads give them the recompence of their present Misery, the
earnest of their future happines. Onely one of the fourty is
omitted. The Bath-keeper that stood to watch sees this, and
whilest he sees and wonders at what hee sees, hee heares that
miserable wretch who was left uncrowned by the Angelis, and
uncomforted, calUng to bee taken out of the cold water, and to
bee put into the warm Bath, which is Instantly performed by
the wUling Guard, but with greater anguish to the noble
Martyrs, his companions, then all their own sufferings had
caused. A sharper cold ceazeth their soules then before pinched
their Bodies. Their hearts quake and their spirits groane in
evidency of their fellows BacksHding, in the doubtfulnes of
their owne Continuance.
But having received the first fruits of Glory there was no
residence for greife in their soules. God comforts and con-
firmes them without delay in a double manner. Hee that

86 IHS
would not continue in tiic cold water for Christs sake dies
when hee comes out of it ; he no sooner setts foot In the
warme bath but his life departs, for which hee had lost his soule.
The Bath-keeper, that had before scene the vision, and now
fully understood the Mystery, cries out to his companions,
See, I am a Christian ; and instantly dispoyUng himselfe of his
clothes steps naked Into the water, joyning himselfe In sufferings
to them with whom hee desired to bee partner in glory.
It came to passe here (sayth St. Basil), as it did in the Case of
Judas, hee lost his oifice and another tooke it to make up the
Number of the Apostles, and it came to passe, as it did with
St. Paul, hee that stood to seduce others becomes himselfe
the Martyr of Christ.
The MoDERATOURS longsome Pause gave evidency that she
was come to the end of what shee then ment to say.
The Company was about to dissolve, when the Guardian
staying them with the signe of his hand, spake thus :
The least of these foure services might have sufficed for a
Kings entertainment, and therefore wee cannot exact more
that have already had overmeasure. But to refuse the banquet
which I know Is prepared, answerable to the richnes of the
former messes, were not the wisdome of Temperance, but the
excesse of folly. Theres no surfeiting in this kind of feast.
Let us therefore, I beseech you, sitt downe again, and receive
those further dainties which the Cheifes bounty intendeth to
the perfecting of this Dales worke, that it may every wales
bee a compleat pelce !
I understand (sayd the Cheife), most honoured Guardian,
and hope to satisfy your desires. You expect that, according
to the wise householders practize in the Gospell, bringing out
both new and old things out of his treasure, these elder
miracles should he confirmed and sett forth by some further
examples of later times.
You so well know my thoughts, dearest Cheife (sayd the
Guardian), that you have much better expressed them then
I myself could have done.

IHS 87
The proofe of having taken so right Aime (sayd the Cheife)
at your Intention makes mee the rather hope to hitt the mark
which you desire. If you doe but beleive it true, you cannot
esteeme it lesse wonderful! then any you have ^'et heard. And
that you may beleive it to bee true, you shall know that it is
not onely confidently written in serious workes of most femous
Men, but hath beene often by very discret and religious Persons
deli\ ered in the Pulpits of Italy as an undoubted truth received
at firet from the relation of those whose Fidelity and wisedome
was above all suspicion, cither of decei\ ing others or being
deceived themselves.
Marellius Ficinius, the Oracle of his times for Learning, had
a deare Freind and Companion in the selfsame studies of Philo
sophy, named Michael Mercatus, to whom, amongst his workes,
there is extant an Epistle full of excellent Matter touching the
^Eternity of God and the immortality of Mens soules. One
time, amongst their philosophicall discourses happening to fell
upon the consideration of those things which follow after the
determination of this Life, finding a greater perplexity according
to the principles of Philosophy (though they both followed
that which is tlirre the best, Platos schoole) then they could
well explicate, and perhaps even In this regard the rather by
GrODS just award intangled In this Labarinth of human Reason,
because they had attributed too much thereunto, they in the
end grew to a co\ enaiit, and confirmed it with solemne Oath,
that hee that fii-st should dv of them two would, if it might
bee, give the other Notice of his Estate.
A long time past after this, and a large separation by distance
of place betweene them. But in the end, as Michael! Mercatus
one Morning very early w.is deepe in his philosophicall specula
tions hec heares afarre of the Noise of a horse running \ ery
swiftly, ;uid at last upon a stopping under his window, the we!
knowne voice of freind MareiUus calUng out aloud. Oh
Michael, Michael, those things are true, they are true indeed !
At this, with much astonishment, Michael starts up, but his
speed was farre slower than MareiUus, who before the other

88 IHS
could thrust his head out of the window, had turned about his
horse, and was now upon a swift pace departing. But though
hee saw not his face, yet by that which hee saw, hee knew him
perfectly to bee the Man whose voice hee heard, onely his habitt
was farre different, all white, and of the same colour was his
horse. Michael followed him with his voice, doubUng the
Name of Marsillus. But hee answered not. Hee followed him
with his eies, but those were immediately likewise disappointed
by the others vanishing. When wonderment had given way
to other thoughts, hee gave present order to enquire touching
Marsillus, whom in the end hee understood the very selfe same
houre that hee appeared unto him to have departed this Life at
Florentz. You desire to know, lie tell you what followed,
and with that, as it will bee to the confirmation of the Truth
of this Fact, so it may bee to the impression of the like
affections and resolutions in our Minds.
Though Michael was a Man of that goodnes which, because
wee cannot find in our present times, wee attribute to the Old
World, though he had led a Life not onely full of innocency,
but of much Benefitt to others, as a true Philosopher should
doe, yet from that day sending a Bill of divorce to all his
former studies of Learning, hee applied himselfe onely to learne
Christ Jesus crucified ; and the remainder of his dales was
altogether spent in the preparation for that better Life which is
to succeed the short and miserable Ages on Earth, and hee dies
more famous for devotion then he Hved ever honoured for
Learning, and yet therein, by the common Vote of this world,
hee was not second to any.
This was the conclusion of this dales stories, the song
before excusing the Submisse, and this following the Obe
dient, for those stories which they otherwise were bound to
have told. Why doth this world contend
For glorious vanity .?
Whose wealth so subject is
To mutability.

IHS 89

As earthly vessels fail
Through their fragility :
So standeth worldly force
Unsure and slippery.
Characters rased in Ice
Think rather permanent
Then earthly vanities
Wasting incontinent.
Shaddowd with vertue pure.
But false in recompense ;
At no time yielding us
True trust or Confidence.
To Men more Credit give.
That want Fidelity,
Then trust to worldly wealth.
Whose end is Misery.
Falsehood in Good delights.
Pleasures in Franticknes,
DesirM vanities
Of fleeting Ficklenes.
Where now is Solomon
Sometimes in Royalty ;
Or Sampson with his great
Invincibility ;
Or gentle Jonathan,
So praysd for Freindliness ;
Or fairest Absolom,
So rare in Comelines ?
Where now is Caesar gone,
Highst in Authority ;
Or Dives, with his fare
And sumptuosity ?
Tell now where Tully is.
Clearest in Eloquence ;
Or Aristotle fled
With his intelligence.

90 IHS
O silly vermins food,
O Mass of Dustines,
O Dew, o Vanity,
Whence is thy loftines .''
To-morrow for to live
Thou hast no certainty ;
Doe good therefore to all
Whilst thou hast Liberty.
This worldly Glory great
How short a Feast it is.
And like a shaddow here,
Lo, how it vanishes.
Taking rewards away
Of long Continuance,
And leads us in the way
Of erring Ignorance.
This earthly Glory most
Which here is magnified,
In Scripture termed is
As Grasse that withered.
And as the lightest leafe
The wind away doth blow.
So light is life of Man
For death to overthrow,
Think that which thou mayst loose
Is not thine certainly.
This worlde will take againe
Her guifts of vanity.
Think, then, on heaven above.
Thereon thy mind addresse,
Contemne all worldly wealth
For endlesse Blessednesse.

VIII
CHRISTMASTIDE, 1631
St. Antoine s Fision — The 'DeviVs Confession — The Dying Lamp
— The Sel-f-righteous Hermit — The Accuser of Himself.
The delight that these former Dales had bred in the Auditours
more swaying then the Compassion of the Sisters excessive
paines, it was resolved that this storying should be proceeded
In till the full Number of twelve dales were made up ; where
upon they, being the Daughters of Obedience, casting away all
desires of Ease till they had performed the work that they were
tasked at, the Company meeting at the appointed place and
time, the Cheife began. —
Theres little Constancy in humane desires, and much
unsufficiency in the things of this world that a Man Is
almost a weary of having what hee most longs for. Wee
were solicitous (most honoured Grandmother) for your appro
bation of our Exercizes, and now we can hardly keep ourselves
from wishing it had beene lesse. Without it wee had lost our
Labour, and by it wee are forced to loose our Ease, whilest wee
are enjoyned to begin afresh for the continuance of your satis
faction, that worke which with no small Content wee supposed
to have beene at an end. But though the issue of a Mans
own choise bee so uncertaine, as is most what proves to his
Dammage, yet the fruit of Obedience being alwaies In the
end most delightfull and advantageable, wee have resolved, in
hope of future pleasure, gladly to goe forward, though It bee
91

92 IHS
to present trouble in the exercize, till the fuU Number of these
Festivall twelve dales bee made up with stories of so many
severall subjects. Concluded every day must handle a new
matter ; thats your Injunction, and because the dales them
selves afford not, as those that are already passed, to any
especlall occasion, wee have thought good to raise the Persons.
Those particular surnames which you have Imposed on us
shall successively be the subjects of our severall Exercizes.
My Sisters happy Names, like fruitfuU plants, speak wine and
oyle and aU manner of sweetnes ; but this ambitious title of
Cheife which I am burdened with put you, I am perswaded,
as it hath done mee, to a stand how to find good entertain
ment for you. Theres neither vertue nor profitt to bee
extracted out of it that I can see, and yet I have sought it
diligently. As for honour, which is the proper fruit of pre
eminence. Its Indeede the Daintiest and most pleasing to
Mans Pallate of all other dishes whatsoever, but so perilous
as my heart serves mee not to invite my Freinds thereunto.
I know not how it fares with others, for myselfe I solemnely
avow every little tast that I willingly make of it distempers
mee. Looke not therefore by the setting forth of the excel
lency of Dignltyes and high Matters in this dales discourse to
have your Affections enflamed to the pursulte of them, but
give us leave by the remonstrance of the Necessity, the safety,
the acceptablenes with God and Men, and the inoestimable
benefitt that accrues to the soule by HumiUty, to perswade you
and to confirme ourselves in this opinion : — That it is the
cheife of all vertues, and that which most belongs to them
that are by God and Man appointed Cheife amongst othere.
Like the grasse thats newly sprung.
Or like a Tale thats new begun,
Or like the Bird thats here to-day.
Or like the pearlM dew of May,
Or like an houre, or like a span.
Or like the singing of a swan :
Even such is Man, that lives by breath,
Hes here, now there, so Life and death.

IHS 93
The grasse witherth, the tale is ended.
The Birds flowne, the dews ascended.
The houre is short, the span not long.
The Swan neere death. Mans life is done
Like to the Buble in the Brooke,
Or in a Glasse much like a Looke,
Or like a shuttle in weavers hand.
Or like a A\Titing on the sand.
Or like a thought or like a dreame.
Or like the gliding of the streame.
Even such is Man that lives by breath,
Its here, now there, so Life and Death.
The Bubles cut, the Looke forgott,
The Shuttles flung, the ^\Titing blott.
The thought is past, the Dreame is gone.
The water glides. Mans Life is done.
Like to an Arrow from the Bow,
Or like s^vift course of watry flow.
Or like the Time t^^ixt floud and ebbe.
Or like the Spiders tender webbe.
Or like a Race, or like a Goale,
Or like the dealing of a Dole ;
Even such is Man, whose brittle state
Is alwaies subject unto Fate,
The arrow shott, the flouds soone spent.
The Time no Time, the webbe soone rent.
The race soone run, the Goale soone wonne.
The dole soone dealt, Mans Life first done.
Like to the Lightning from the sky.
Or like a Post that quick doth hy.
Or like a quaver in short song.
Or like a Journey three daies long.
Or like the snow when Summers come.
Or like a Pare, or like a Plumme ;
Even such is Man, that heapes up sorrow.
Lives but this day, and dies to Morrow.
The Lightning past, the Post must goe.
The song is short, the Journeys so.
The Peare doth rott, the Plumme doth fall.
The snow dissolves, and so must all.

94 IHS
Then why should men thats borne to dy
Live here below and looke so high ,¦"
Or why should hee oppresse the Poore
Or drive the Needy from his dore .*
Or why should hee goe feist and play
When hee, alas ! should fast and pray ?
Harkc, I will tell tlicc what to do —
Rend thy proud heart and Garments, too ;
And think on this, thou art but dust ;
For Earth thou art, to F.arth thou must.
And after Death 'twill be too Iato
To call for Grace or mend thy state.
Other vertues have their particular Masters, the Ant to
teach Industry, the Serpent Wisedome, and the dove simplicity,
but Humility is the joynt Lesson of the whole Creation.
They tell a man, and truely they tell him, hec is a ferre more
perfect Epitome of their weaknesses then of their ExceUencies.
Hee can find no ground of Contempt in any Creature, but hee
shall find It double in himselfe to that which hee sees in them.
And how then can a Man without sending a divorce to
reason seperate himselfe from Humility, for the embracement
whereof every thing that hee can think of makes a concluding
Argument ? But this is one but of the weakest motives that
you shall heare. — A great desire having entered into St.
Antonies heart to understand the Nature and Condition of the
way to heaven, wherein so little progresse is made by many
that seeme to pretend nothing else but how they m.Ty walk
therein, hee was one day wrapt in spirit, and looking round
about saw the whole world overspread with snares and Gins.
Whereupon he cried out amazedly, If such. Lord, bee the
passage to heaven, who can ever attaine thereunto ? It w.^s
answered. Humility walkes free through all the Toylcs which
thou seest.
And verily let a Man search well, and hee shall find that
there Is no entanglement of the soule in any sin whatsoever
but the fastening of the Corde is alwaies in some kind of pride
or other. Humility is a Universall Medicine for all diseases

IHS 95
whatsoever. Hee that alwaies keeps his mind low and his
Body under can by no meanes through the continuance in
sinne become himselfe a Castaway.
You have heard St. Antonies vision, now heare his practize
of humiUty from the selfesame relation of Athanasius. Though
he were mighty in Miracles, and, which is farre more, the
spirituaU Father of many thousands of Men admirable In
holines, though the whole would seeke to him for his Blessing,
and Emperors lay up his letters to them amongst their most
esteemed Jewells, yet hee himselfe disdalnes not to submitt
his head to the Bishops and Preists hands wheresoever hee
mett them, craving their Blessing, thereby giving an equall
Testimony both to the Excellency of their Dignity and to the
Eminency of humility above all other graces and priviledges
whatsoever, whilst for the exercize and attainment of It he
waves all other respects. My Story (sayd the Affectionate),
worthy Cheife, suits every way so well to you that, being
afrayd not to fitt it otherwhere, I desire, without breach of
that humility which wee are now commending, to have leave
now to tell first, though mine own place be the last. And
although a Liars Testimony bee not to bee credited, yet when
the truth is manifest before hand It may serve as Black doth to
sett of white the better to appearance, though not in substance.
The Devills Confession, which I shall tell you of, though It
adds no Authority, yet It may add perhaps Illustration to that
truth which St. Antonies Divine vision taught us.
A holy Virgin having from her youth up beene combated
with noysome thoughts, perceiving an enforcement of them in
her mind when through Age, whereinto she was now well
stepped, and weakenes of Body by continuall Mortifications,
she expected an utter extinguishment of them, grew much
amazed, both through shame and sorrow, at so strange a Case,
whereof she had neither heard Example nor could conceive the
reason. Walking thus perplexedly one day, when she least
expected, finding a suddaine and furious charge of wicked
Imaginations to be given to her Fancy, leaving her wonted

96 IHS
Hymnes of Psalmes, wherewith she used to defeat herselfe in
this kind of skirmish, shee starts and runnes with a strong but
holy kind of Impatience to the window of her Chamber,
where, lifting up her right hand, and fixing her eies on the
sun, that shone out with great Brightnes, she cryed out
amaine, as her teares and sighs gave leave, How long, how
long, thou Sun of Righteousness, shall the beames of thy
grace be restrained from my soule ? Rise up like a Giant
in thy might, Lord Jesus, and chase away these workes of
darknes never more to returne. It is enough. Lord, it is
enough ; comfort thy handmayd againe for the yeares (and
many yeares they have beene) wherein she hath suffered
adversity. She had no sooner ended her short praier but shee had
obtained the grace which shee had so long sought for. Faith
and zeale, when they joyne strongly together, carry all things
in the Court of heaven, not onely without deniall but delay.
The spirit of Fornication was rebuked, and makes hast to
depart visibly In a loathsome forme, presenting himselfe to her
eies, and with an enraged murmure tells her that shee had at
last overcome him. But shee quickly replied with a loud and
cheerefull voice, doubUng her words, Not I, Satan, but my Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ is hee that hath overcome thee;
his bee the praise altogether from whom the power is derived.
My forepast weaknes of so many yeares continuance shows
plainely that the new supply of strength is none of mine.
Thy Abstinence, thy watching and wearines, have hindered
mee from prevailing. But this humility debarres mee from
henceforth for ever approaching nigh unto thee.
Other vertues keepe us safe, but lowllnes of mind makes us
victorious In aU encounters of our Enemies. Hee that is weU
armed with true mortification can hardly bee wounded, but
hee that Is cloathed with humility can hardly bee assaulted.
God dwells so plentifully by his grace in an humble heart that
the Devill hath no power to come neere with his Temptations.
Hee cannot come neere with his Temptations, indeed (sayd

IHS 97
the Patient), nor can hee hurt farre of by meanes of wicked
men. God keeps the humble safe as well from shame and
sorrow as from sinne. It is a sure defence against the injuries
both of hand and tongue. HumiUty is an Armour of proofe
against all manner of EvUl. To which purpose I shall tell
you a story. If not of undoubted truth for the fact, yet of
excellent use for the morali of It. —
There were two Brethren, the one of great Age and long
exercized, the other yonger and but a Novice In true and pure
Religion, who being late together one Night at their Devotion,
the Lampe which hung betweene them went out suddenly.
Whereupon the yonger rose and Hghted It againe, but in vaine.
Hee was scarce well settled in his place when It went out
againe, and a third time ; at which the elder, being much
troubled for the interruption of his better thoughts, gave his
Brother not onely with sharp words, but by a sore Blow, that
chastisement which, hee told him, was due for his negUgent
or unskllfuU trimming of the Lampe. The yonger, though
he knew the Imputation wrong, and knew not how to mend
the fault, yet seing plainly a fault, was content to take it
upon himselfe ; and not finding the Immediate Cause, either
in himselfe or In the Lampe, not onely began to think, but to
say, that It was guilt of his former errors that now without
cause made the Ught faile, and bred disturbance in those holy
Exercizes, whereof (sayth hee, turning to his Brother and
kissing the hand that strooke him) by how much I am the
more unworthy to partake, by so much I beseech your fervent
praiers may bee the more Intended for mee, that the Light and
fire of grace which God hath kindled In my heart may never
bee quenched by mine owne sinnes or any devises of the evill
one. The remembrance of my greivous Crimes would perswade
mee so to Interpret this strange accident, but Gods Mercy
assures me the contrary, and that hee will never faile to give
new Illuminations to my soule when ever darknes over
shaddows it, as I will still supply fresh light to this extin
guished Lampe. Having so sayd, and stepping to the fire to

98 IHS
do what hee had sayd, the Lampe burst out of itselfe with
an unusual Flame and brightnes. At which, whilest they both
stood amazed, and the old Man began a little to swell in the
Conceit of his Holines to which the spirit of vainglory per
swaded him to attribute this admirable effect, they heard a
voice, which was of greater Majesty of sound then can
proceed from Mans Brest, told the elder that as the lighting,
so the putting out of the Lampe was miraculous. This last by
the Devills Malice to Cause diversion in their good Imploy
ments and to raise Contention between them ; but the lighting
it again was by God's appointment and the Ministry of an
Angeli ; Not in regard of thy holines (sayd the voice), which,
both by Error and Impatiency hath manifested itselfe to bee
much more imperfect then thou perhaps esteemedst it, but in
approbation of thy Brothers Patience and Humility, which
in Gods account is of farre greater worth then all thine
Innocency with the least taint of selfe conceit thereunto
annexed. Not hee that doth most, but hee that thinkes
least of himselfe, gaines the Prize in well doing ; and he that
in suffering of Evill laies the Blame on himselfe getts the
soonest cleare. Hee that meekely condemnes himselfe as
worthy of what hee undergoes makes God to plead his Cause,
and getts certain pardon, though hee bee in fault. But if
innocent, the wrong that he thus takes and beares turnes
to a Crown both of Glory and Content.
The Patient having ended, the Moderatour succeeded,
recompting this story following :
There was an ancient Hermlte, whose Austerity of Life
sealing the opinion of perfect holines attained here on Earth,
gave assurance in his owne and all others Judgments of eternall
happines to bee hereafter by him enjoyed in heaven. At last
incurable sicknes layes him on his Death-bed, which is no
sooner noysed abroad, but instantly from all parts good and bad
run to his little sell to minister in what they were able to his
Necessity, and to receive his Blessing, which they esteemed
advantageable to all things. Amongst others there came to

IHS 99
these Intents a grave Father, accompanied with a young Man
that had newly entered into the profession, but made greater
progresse than most others in the truth of Christian religion.
In the midst of their Journey there overtakes them a famous
Malefactor, who tells them the trouble and terror of a guilty
Conscience leads him to the same place and person whither
they were going, if happily by the meanes of his holy Counsell
hee might receive Comfort In his wounded soul, and directions
how to serve God, whom he had so Infinitely offended. They
encouraging him in these good thoughts, hee proceeds full of
Confidence till hee comes to the Hermites Cell, where shame of
his unworthines forbidding him to enter, and dread of loosing
the remedy of Misery forbidding him to depart, he stands per
plexedly without the dore. As hee stands, hee heares the old
Hermlte make relation of his forepast Life full of holines, and
of his present hopes to bee immediately crowned with Glory
for those great things which hee had done and suffered for
Gods sake and in his service. The poore man having heard
aU, burst into teares, and striking his hand to his Brest, cries out
aloud. Wretched Man that I am, such a Life as this ought I to
have lead. To which the sick Man, having been formerly
informed of him, made instant reply, Thou oughtest indeed
to have so done, if so bee thou hadst any care at all of thy
Salvation. With the conclusion of these words the sick man
breathed out his soule, and the elder of the two that came to
vlsite him remained much comforted in so quiet, glorious, and
happy an end. But the younger began to weepe sore and
make bitter mourning, as if some great and fearefull accident
had befallen. Upon their departure the Malefector followed
them, greviously lamenting his forepast Life, confessing aloud
his sins, and calling upon the mercy of God in and through
Christ Jesus, in whom (hee sayd) he would trust, and on
whom (he sayd) hee would rely for the making answere and
giving satlsfection to God for all his sinnes, and for the obtaining
of eternaU life for him. Theres ransome enough in Christs
Obedience to quitt all my guilt and to purchase mee grace.

100 IHS
Whilest hee goes along so full and fixed In these meditations,
as hee neither sees nor heares anything besides, comming to
a dangerous passage hee stumbles and falls, and in his fall
breakes his Neck ; at which, whilest the elder of the two made
shew of much greife, the younger cherefuUy began to praise
God with Davids words, Precious In the sight of the Lord
is the Death of his Saints.
The elder, being much scandalised at these proceedings,
sharply demands. What meanes this double contradiction not
onely to my affections, but to my reason ? Thou bewaylest
the just Mans happy decease, and rejoycest in the sinners
unhappy death. To which the young Man mildly answered.
The Ignorance of Gods Judgements makes you erre both in
your pitty and your comfort touching these two. I saw his
soule, whom you so much admire for outward holines of Life,
dragged into hell by many DeviUs for that Pride and Confidence
which hee had in his owne righteousnes, which, when it came to
triall, was found nothing but sinne and wickednes, however
fairely guilded it appeared not onely in ours, but in his owne
eies and imaginations. But that poore Man, who could find
no good in himselfe, by the putting on of Christs righteousnes
through faith, was found righteous in Gods approbation, and
as such was by the hands of Angelis carried up into everlasting
happines. It so fares alwaies In Christs Kingdome ; the last are
made first, and the first become last. Hee thats great
In his owne Conceit Is nothmg in Gods esteeme, and
hee thats truely great in Gods esteeme is alwaies nothing
In his owne. This is a faythfuU saying, Christ came
Into the world to save sinners, whereof I am the cheife, sayth
St. Paul'
Theres no sin so incompetible with Gods grace as Pride ;
theres no kind of Pride as that which perswades Itselfe to
deserve Gods grace. Grace of what kind soever it bee, is
alwaies freely given on Gods part ; and good workes, of what
value soever they bee, are alwaies Insufficient on oure. When

IHS IOI
wee have done aU, wee must say Wee are unprofitable servants.
Our good workes are at the best but like those tickets whereby
Men gett admission unto Princes royall Festivals.
Its the Mediation of Christs righteousnes that obtaines
the favour that wee may bee thought worthy to enter Into
Gods presence and Joyes.
Well have you observed, most honoured Moderatour
(sayd the Cheerefull) that they which are high In Gods
grace are alwaies low In their owne esteeme, and desire rather
by publishing of their Infirmities to give glory to God, whose
strength is perfected in weaknes, then by Manifestation of
their vertues to gett prayse to themselves.
To which purpose my Story is. God grant my Practize
may be answerable.
The Fame of an holy Man being very great, a certain
devout Person came from farre to vlsite and bee instructed of
him. Drawing neere to the Citty it was his Chance to meet
with the old Man himselfe, who by discourse perceiving the
strangers Businesse, began seriously to reprehend so much
Labour and time needlessly spent and imployed, telling him,
that Instead of a Saint hee should find a great Sinner, and there
upon recompted unto him many Errors and Crimes which hee
solemnely affirmed hee knew this good Man (as hee was com
monly called) guilty of. The stranger, much troubled, held
on his voyage unto some of the principaU of the Citty, to
whom hee was of kin, began after the first salutation to declare
why hee came, and what had happened unto him. They,
jealous of the holy Mans reputation, sending for divers others,
began seriously to advise of the finding out and punishing of
this Slanderer, who durst thus traduce and revile the Man of
God. Whereupon requiring the signs to know the Person,
they then perceived by all tokens, both of features, gesture,
speach, and habitt, that It was the holy Man himselfe that
had disgraced and accused himselfe, and perceiving that he had
indeed refreshed the Memory of divers errors which were
long agoe buried in all other Mens remembrance, and that

102 IHS
he had published some which never before were knowne,
they remained the more confirmed by this proofe in the
opinion of his hoUnes then all his other Actions that hee had
done.

IX
CHRISTMASTIDE, 1631
Discussion on Patience — Chivalrous Tales — Christopher and the
President of Samos — Patience a Miracle — A Noble Woman
of Alexandria — A Toung Man and his Master — Eulogies
of Alexandria and the Leper — Didimus of Alexandria —
Caximere, Prince of Sendomiria — St. Gregory the Great and
the Emperor Mauritius — The Story ofthe Oil — Agaton —
Anub and the Idol.
The next Day falling to the Patients turne, the Absence
of the Master and the removal! of the provisions necessary
for the Musick giving notice that it was not that Day to bee
expected, shee began to the excuse thereof in this manner :
The want of your wonted Musique, whilst I am so poore
not onely in skill, but in good happe, as I cannot find a song
any wares answerable to your present Action, gives you oppor
tunity (most honoured Grandmother and worthy Company)
by the gentle passing over this wrongful! disappointment of
your justly expected Pleasure through my defect, to exercize
that vertue of Patience which falls to be the matter of this
daies consideration.
The happy agreement of your Practize in this thing to your
Name, deare Patient (sayd the Cheife), causeth sweeter
Melody than any voice or instrument could doe. Wee want
not Musick therefore, though wee have it not in the Eare,
that have so much delight in our hearts through the Harmony

104 IHS
that is made by the sweet Concent of your Disposition and
Actions to that which Is the subject of our intended discourse.
Yourselfe are an Example of that Patience which you are to
speake of. This is the noblest Musick that can sound in
mine, and I am sure In all others opinions.
What I am (sayd the Patient) In this respect is Gods
Grace ; and what I want (and that is infinitely more then
what I have attained touching this Vertue) is my owne Fault.
Well (sayd the Guardian), in the Country of the blind hee
that hath but halfe an Eie is King. Our generaU Imperfec
tions make us all think you are proceeded farre In the grace,
for which wee as truely blesse God as wee heartily desire to
bee partakers of the same. But I hope, that though you are
not furnished with Musick, yet you have in supply thereof
provided some other kind of Antepast for us. If wee cannot
have a song, let us have (as the old proverbe is) some good
saying, I pray, to beginne with, touching this matterof Patience,
in knowledge whereof I confesse myselfe to bee a stranger, as
well as In the Practize, having all my lifelong till of late
beene perswaded that Patience was not a vertue to bee sought
for, but only for Necessity to bee accepted when a Man could
not choose ; not to bee desired when a Man might shift it.
You say very true (sayd the Chiefe), thats the worlds
Doctrine and Language ; when a Man cannot put away suffer
ings in any kind, then he is advised to put on Patience. You
must bee content to have Patience, sav the wise Freinds of
this world. But to bee so In Love with Patience as a Man
should gladly undergoe grief and Evill when it comes, for the
exercize thereof, is an argument of a crazed Braine and of a
cowardly heart in most Mens Judgements, and yet is the plaine
and constant doctrine of the Blessed Lord by whose Name
wee are honoured, and of all his Holy Apostles, that there is
more Excellency both of strength and happines in patient
enduring of Evill then in the prosperous enjoyment of all the
good things in the world. And therefore St. James wills to
count it when wee fall Into divers Temptations, onely for this

IHS 105
reason, because it workes Patience, which, if it may have its
rce and full operation, will worke us perfect and compleat
both in Grace and Glory, so that there shall be nothing want
ing either in body or in soule even in this Ufe on Earth, not
onely in that which is to come In heaven. Let Patience have
her perfect worke, that yee may bee perfect and Intire, want
ing Nothing.
Oh, the wretched mistake of my bUnd affections, that In the
pursulte of Vertue and happines have ever avoyded and im
pugned that which would have given the greatest furtherance
to what they pretended unto !
I thought the exercise of Patience a Burden that would tyre
out my strength, a Block that encombred the way, and
made mee stumble, and made mee fall, and therefore thought
even Impatience itselfe in removing of that which was offensive
to have beene a piece of wisedome, a practize of Goodnes.
That no body should crosse nice, that nothing should bee
contrary to my mind, was that which I supposed most just to
desire, most profitable to endeavour. I see mine errour, I
feele my losse. I thank my God, that hath given mee this
timely warning. By his grace henceforward Patience shaU bee
my study, the attainement of it in my praiers, the exercize of it
my Joy, mine Honour, and my Happines. Say, Lord, Amen,
to these purposes, to these protestations, which thou hast now
put into my mouth and heart.
Wee second you with our Prayers (sayd the Cheerefull)
and hope wee shall second you with the like resolutions and
endeavour not to seeke so much for an uncontrolled satisfaction
of our Desires, as for a patient sufferance of what shall happen
contrary to them. The last is farre the more easy Condition
to bee attained, and surely the more excellent, the patient
Man being every way better and more happy then the
prosperous, a Mystery which I confess with you to have beene
long ignorant of, and now with you comming to the know
ledge, I hope I sh.all, by Gods assistance, with you proceed in
the carefull Practize thereof. The great offences which my

io6 IHS
erring Judgement had conceived against this heavenly grace
having beene by Gods Mercy not onely removed out of my
mind, but turned into so many arguments of Love. Now,
by your Love to it and mee, I beseech you, deare Cheerefull,
to let us understand the particular more fully (sayd the
Cheife). You have so put on your request (sayd the Cheerefull) as
It would not bee onely unkindnes, but sinne, to deny you.
Though it bee therefore to my shame I will freely confesse
that I know not how, whether by false Information from the
world, or false apprehension In mine owne mind, or both,
Inward Corruption being attracted by outward Infection, I
was growne to a strong and manifold prejudice against the
Divine Vertue of Patience, as an effect of weaknes, the Mother
of Contempt, and an invitation to further Injuries. And thus
and no otherwise it appeared to mee a feeble disposition, alwaies
disrespected, many times oppressed. Evill Affections instantly
foUowed wrong opinions. Meethought it was unlovely,
uncomely, prejudiciall in others, in myselfe it should bee most
odious, disgracefull, dangerous.
Its no small happiness, beloved Cheerefull (sayd the
Guardian) that you have so good an opportunity of making
amends for so great Errors, and you improve it wisely by
making so large and cleare a declaration of them. The
searching of a wound to the quick, though it bee painfull, yet
it is a sure preparation to the Cure ; in which regard I should
perhaps envy you, but that I hope I may become a partner of
the Benefitt by application of the selfe same remedy, appeach-
Ing myselfe to bee guilty of all that you have made Confession
of, and much more In regard of the bad effects which have
affections. Well had It beene with mee had I stayed there.
Many a Mlschelfe had been avoyded, and many a good busines
had been accomplished which hath cheifly ruined by my want
of Patience. And I had not, it may bee, wanted it, if I had
knowne it so well as I have done of late. I had all your

IHS 107
mistake in opinions, and I had more. I perswaded myselfe
there was a strong taint of injustice in Patience, that a Man did
wrong when hee did not right himselfe, and that hee was
cruell to himselfe in being in such a Manner gentle to others.
I went further in the misapprehension, and the evil Conse
quences have beene much worse on my part. But I doubt not
but by Gods mercy all Is cancelled. What Is past is past.
How to bee sincere, constant, and perfect in the Exercise of
Patience, wherein I have been hitherto so unsound, unstable,
and defective, is now all my Care. Let us therefore know, I
pray, what It was that helped you, which cannot surely but doe
us good. The remedy must needs bee proper since the disease
Is common. Pennance alwaies follows Confession, you know (sayd the
Moderatour to the Cheerefull). Let it not therefore
trouble you to bee put now to little paines for so many
freinds sake In a matter of such Consequence.
Good resolutions, except they bee confirmed in the mind by
good reason, runne more hazard of extinguishing the lights
sett in open plans without Coverts. The weightiest ships
float with every puft of wind. If they bee not well [anchored].
And the firmest inventions of Mans heart for good are easily
shaken if they bee not stabilished by good Arguments.
However faire the world seeme to comply In most things
with the Letter, yet surely It beares deadly feud to the spirit
and power of religion in all points ; in none more then in this
matter of Patience, which, as it is one of the greatest Buttresses
of Christian Faith, so it is mainely and maliciously, however
subtiUy, undermlgned by the world, even when It seemes most
to promote and sett it forth. Since it is certaine, therefore,
that wee shall meet with much and violent opposition, I would
bee glad that every one might bee furnished with some solid
arguments both to maintaine the truth and to convince gain
sayers. I beseech you, most honoured Moderatour (sayd the
Chiefe), that you would make us understand this Mystery a

io8 IHS
Uttle plainlyer touching the worlds proceedings with such
semblance of Love, and yet with such effects of hatred to this
Vertue of Patience, which J am perswaded will rather give
Hght and furtherance then bee of diversion to that which wee
hope to learne from the Cheerefull.
Why, verily (sayd the Moderatour), if you well observe,
the wisedome of this world gives no allowance, much lesse
applause, to Patience, but onely In two Cases : the first of
Necessity, which you before observed ; the second of advan
tage, when either honours or some other gaine is to be made
by the exercize thereof, in this last Case making it but a
matter of Merchandize ; in the first giving it but the honour
of a stuplfying Medicine, but on the selfe same ground hating
the true and perfect, for which they give approbation to this
imperfect and counterfeit Patience of their owne devising.
This kind and degree of Patience, because It gives furtherance
to carnall Affections in the abatements of greifs and procure
ment of gaine and honour, hath a free and commendable
entertainment. But true and Christian Patience, which
voluntarily undergoes sufferings and makes Damage and
disgrace the subject of her embracements, dissolving the whole
frame of their Content, which Hes altogether in fleshly and
worldly satisfaction, suits onely in their Judgement to the
Condition of an Asse, on this ground become the vilest of all
other Beasts, for otherwise, undoubtedly. If wee make the
Comparison by shape or servlceableness, there are very few
Creatures to bee preferred before the Asse.
But the proportionablenes of his naturall Temper to that
disposition and those affections which Patience causeth, is the
misery that hath made him the scorne and byword of Man
kind ; and yet for this very Cause did the Lord of Glory single
him out for his owne use amongst all other Creatures. Think
not that it was for Contempts sake, for neither was an asse
in those times and places contemptible, and it was Act of
triumph which was intended, to which a contemptible Carriage
had beene altogether dissonant. But it was in regard that an

IHS 109
Asse is an Embleme or meekenesse and Patience, that our
blessed Saviour made choise to ride upon an Asse, a Colt
the foole of an Asse, when he went to shew himselfe the
King of Israeli, to comfort the Daughter of Sion.
And undoubtedly as it then passed, so it still fares in these
daies, and with us he hath not changed his bodily residence.
Our blessed Lord sitts not as a King in any Mans soule,
nor mlnlstere the saving Comforts of his grace and spirit in
any great measure or sweetnes, but to them which by their
Love and exercise of Patience are become In the worlds
opinion very Asses.
Christ, for the resemblance that an Asses Nature hath
with Meekness and Patience, gave him the preheminence
of honour amongst all Beasts, and Man for the same cause
gives his Name as the highest title of Infemy to them that
are truely patient.
A patient Man is an Asse by the common \'^ote of the
world. Hee that for wisedome, as perhaps many doe, for
beares to expresse this Conceit of othere, yet by enforcement
of truth cannot forbeare to instant it in himselfe if hee bee
putt hard to it. Doe you think me an Asse ? or Would you
have mee an Asse ? is the last refuge which the wisest of
this world betake themselves unto when they purpose to
shutt of Patience. But God forfend that such a word of
deadi should bee found henceforward amongst us. To which
Intent I have beene wllUng to give you a tast of the
Malignity that this kind of Language containes. As for the
Contradiction it beares to Christian reUgion, you ma)f read it,
as it were, in text Lettere, and j'et is this but the least and
weakest of manv engines wherewith the world battere the
fort of true Patience. That generally received opinion that
Impatiency is an effect, at least a Consequence, of great
spirits and great fortunes Is a ferre more strong and more
pernicious argument of Error in this Matter.
The profession of valour and the ostentation of Dignity in
the common Judgement of this world are by no meanes

no IHS
thought possible to bee sett better of then by an absolute Icind
of Impatiency in all kinds.
Not to bee able to endure Labour In business ; not to bee
able to endure paines in sicknes ; not to bee able to endure
the Distemper of the weather, nor the restraint of appetites,
nor to be able to bear Contradiction in words nor opposition
in deeds, nor to be able to endure Concurrence in Honour
nor Comparison in worth ; not to be able to endure Instruction
in Ignorance or Correction in errors ; not to bee able to
indure losse in Estate nor disappointment in pleasures : in
summe, these and all other the like kinds of Impatiencies,
whereby a Man is disabled either to doe or suffer anything
but as fond affections lead the minde, are not onely by the
bold usurpation of all that pretend to Eminency, but by the
flattering approbation of many good men made such necessary
allowances to Greatnes, as they are become, if not mattere of
goodnes and vertue, yet of grace and reputation. And herein
chiefly, as I suppose, lies the bane of true Patience. They,
therefore, that would not bee guilty of so heynous a Crime
as to bee found enemies of Gods Kingdome in the opposition
and hinderance of the growth of Patience, must carefuUy
beware of giving any manner of abettment to this cureed
doctrine of the world, weU informing themselves and carefiilly
instructing others, when occasion happens, that Impatiency,
of what kind soever it bee, is a signe and Effect of Pride or
weaknes, not of strength or worth, either in mind or body.
Thus must every Man doe that will please God and promote
his service, although by so doing hee shaU bee sure to puU
many sufferings on his owne head, the world resenting
nothing more impatiently then the Affronts which are ofiered
unto Impatiency, in making it that which it is indeed, a peice
and a Master-peice of the Devills Excellency.
MaUce, pride, and impotency force an oeternall and uninter
rupted working of this Passion in Hell. Theres the spring
head and thither is the returne of this bitter streame. Theres
no manner of sinne that makes a Man more conformable,

IHS III
either in active disposition or passive torment, to the damned
then Impatiency doth, and yet it is the worlds boasting ; and
to perswade men to love of It they perswade them that theres
both safety and benefitt in it.
Hee that takes an injury patiently. . . . hee that makes
himselfe a worme shall bee trod on, hee that makes him
selfe a sheepe the wolf will eat him, are maine Articles of the
worlds Creed, and hold Invincible arguments to prove the
damage and danger of Patience. Thats the third slander
whereby the world manifesteth the cankered Malice that it
beares against Patience, as well as the Contradiction of its
owne Doctrine to that which Christ hath taught in this
Matter. You have made it evident beyond exception (sayd the
Guardian) that the world is no Friend, much lesse a good
Master to teach Patience. We therefore so much the more
desire to understand by whose recommendation and instruction
our Cheerefull is become so enamored of it that these
horrible maimes and deformities with which the wise Masters
of the Earth have sett forth Patience, are turned into
mattere of Beauty and Lovelines in her eies. Sure there must
bee some great Sorcery on the worlds part, or some extreme
BUndnes in Mens eies, that they should bee thus deluded.
Theres both (sayd the Cheerefull), as I have wofully
proved in myselfe. The world hath made felse spectacles,
and Men that have a mind to be deceived gladly put them
on. Corrupt Affections and purbUnd reason, with which the
world hath made false views of this matter, are those
deceitfuU glasses which cause this monstrous transformation
that streight Is made crooked, white is made black, and that
which is great appeares little. So it fares in this particular.
Take it into the true light of Gods word, and you shall see
(whatever the world says to the contrary) that there is
nothing more strong, more honorable, more beneficiall, more
just, and, in a word, more excellent then true Patience is.

112 IHS
The Word of God indeed (sayd the Guardian) is a cleare
and certaine Light, whereby all Impostures are discovered.
True (sayd the Cheerefull). As Metalls are tryed in the
Fining Pott, so are all things manifested by the Scriptures of
what nature and worth they be. But Patience is one of those
things which a Man cannot come to the knowledge of by any
other meanes then by the Scriptures. Depraved reason leads
cleane away. That which is most rectified falls so short of
the truth that It rather confounds the understanding then
perswades the heart to the Love and exercize of true Patience.
Undoubtedly It Is so (sayd the Guardian), and a manifest
proofe hereof Is the Stoicks fayling in this Attempt, who are
justly taxed by other Philosophers not onely to root up all
affections, but to damme up the very senses, whilest they goe
about to Introduce by force of reason Patience.
A stupid sencelessnes or a wretched Carelessnes may per
haps (sayd the Cheerefull) be wrought by arguments and
exercize, by long Custome and by firme resolution. But these
dispositions are but the Carkesses of Patience ; and, like Mens
Bodies deprived of Life, are not onely unprofitable, but
offensive to reason and to sence.
True Patience is a most powerfull, active Vertue, fiiU of
sweete fruits of Comfort In itselfe, of Benefitt to others,
and the Knowledge of it so proper to the Scripture as St.
Paul makes It one of the cheife.
Whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for
our Learning, that wee through Patience and Comfort in the
Scriptures might have Hope.
You have brought us to the Schoole-dore, and to the Mine
(sayd the Affectionate). If wee goe not away rich in
this Learning it is our owne Defeult.
But for our better encouragement and direction by a say
taken and Patterne given how wee ought to proceed in this
search, wee desire you should shew unto us some of those
veines wherein the rich oare lies most easy and abundantly, by
telling us some of those maine and most effectuall arguments

IHS 113
whereby the Scriptures have Informed and convinced your
erring Judgement.
That which of all others, in my apprehension, carries the
greatest weight in this Businesse (sayd the Cheerefull), is
that Patience is one of those Attributes which the Scripture
gives to the Divine Majesty. St. Paul caUs God the God
of Patience, and joynes it with Consolation, to which adde
what David sayth, God is a righteous Judge, strong and
patient, and you have at once the utter overthrow of all the
worlds cavillous opposition against Patience.
It is an Honour to God, and that as hee is a Judge. It
flows from his might. Hee is strong and patient, and is un-
separably matcht with Consolation. And how then can it bee
matter of disgrace to weaknes, or Injustice, or an Occasion of
greife In Man ?
It cannot possibly (sayd the Guardian) bee thought, much
lesse spoken without Blasphemy, either of preferring Man be
fore God or In denying that Patience is in God, which not
onely the Scriptures, but Experience teacheth, and all men, as
I suppose, naturally agree unto. Then Is my naturall Dispo
sition most reprobate of all others (sayd the Cheife), for till
I was instructed by Gods word I could by no means believe
that Patience was In God. Your naturall Disposition must
have beene better then all others, had you thought otherwise
(sayd the Moderatour). That all the world partakes of the
same Error Is evident by the Heathens fashioning their Gods,
both In their Conceits and in their writings, full of all
Manner of Impatiency, of which Temper even our Christian
Poets in these Times faine the blessed Saints and Angels of
Heaven to bee, when In their Compositions they bring them on
the Stage of this world. Such an unanswerable Contradiction
is there in Mans apprehension betweene Meaknes and greatnes.
Long-suffering and power. Patience and Happines. Your
skill in these studies makes you an absolute Judge (sayd the
Guardian).
My many precious houres wasted in these vanities (repHed
9

114 IHS
the Moderatour) have given mee too much and too certaine
a knowledge of this malignous Error in Poets which, had not
my Affections and Opinions complied with, I could never with
such deUght and approbation have continued in the reading of
them. The Inference which you intend is plaine (sayd the
Guardian) and undeniable. The universall applause that
these Conceits are entertained with, shew that they are really
beleived in the world, however, not so willingly perhaps con
fessed as by you. But though I was in the wrong touching
this particular, yet surely not In that other, which yet the
Cheife seems equaUy to oppose, by a precise limitting of her
Credence touching Gods Patience to the Authority of the
Scriptures, with the rejecting of all other Meanes.
Doth not Experience itselfe convince that there must needs
bee an infinite Patience in. God, whilst he dayly comports such
a numberlesse, measurelesse world of Offences and Impieties
as are dayly committed ?
They that looked upon this matter by the Light of reason in
elder times extract a farre more different Conclusion then you
doe (sayd the Cheife).
This is the very ground which brought over divers Philoso
phers absolutely to deny Gods providence, and the wisest of
them, as I have heard, to speake very doubtfully of it. That
either God knows not, or cared not, for the things done on
Earth are Inferences so necessary, in the eie of reason, upon the
observation of Gods forbearance of presumptuous slnnere, as
the best and holyest Men In the world have beene strongly
tempted this way. David confesseth of himselfe that hee
could not by any meanes find the solution of this matter untiU
hee went into the Sanctuary ; then hee understood what before
and otherwise was too hard for him. I am no whitt, therefore,
discouraged at my naturall uncapablenes, wherein I have so
great Partners. But I blesse God for the revelation of this
Mystery, and my assent unto it.
That there is an infinite Patience in God, and that this

IHS 115
Patience hath Mans salvation for its End, and repentance for
the Meanes to lead him unto it, is a truth which, by the
authority of the Scripture and the operation of the holy spirit,
I believe ; but, through the violence of the Devill and the
fraylty of humane reason, doe continually labour under the
defence and Maintenance thereof. I tell you my weaknes,
that you may helpe mee with your prayers. Theres no
Temptation that I am sorer pressed with by the Enemy of
our soules, upon the remembrance and refreshment of my
sinnes, then to interpret the long suffering and Patience of
God to mee ward, that most wretched of all sinners, but a
treasuring up of wrath against the day of vengeance ; wherein
Reason for the most part, although it be infinitely to our
Prejudice, takes part against mee. I cannot, therefore, bee per
swaded to attribute anything to reason touching my knowledge
or Beliefe of this saving Truth. A saving truth, I call It, in
regard that the hope of salvation fayles not In any Man till
his assent thereunto be overthrown. He that feeles the loving
Effects of Gods Patience in the continuance of this life on
earth and the affording of meanes for attainement of heaven,
can never give entrance to dispalre till hee have inverted this
truth as the DeviU perswades, construing, with the Devill, that
the long suffering of God Is for the encrease of sin and torment,
whereas. In truth, as St. Peter teacheth, wee ought to account
It salvation, I cannot but rejoyce in mine Error, at least In the mani
festation (sayd the Guardian), that hath given occasion to
come to the knowledge of so important a truth as this is,
whereby I not onely understand the soveraigne exceUency of
Gods Patience but the conditions that wee must have if wee
desire it should bee perfect as Gods is :
That Patience is often the Example of Gods which sincerely
intends the benefitt of him to whom it is exercized, and that
forbearance in Error which workes to amendement Is con
formable to that Long-suffering which God useth. But
Patience that emboldens to sinne, or that dissembles a while

ii6 IHS
onely to repay double vengance at the last, as they are con
trary both in their Intentions and effects to Gods long
sufferings and Patience, so must they needs proceed from a
contrary spirit. And yet the last of these is counted a pelce
of singular wisedome, the first a point of great goodnes ; and
in the practize thereof lies all the evldenes that the world can
produce for its Love to Patience. They can willingly com
port all manner of Impiety that is not to their owne prejudice.
To this end they think Patience to be necessary, and in this
way the exercize of it to bee holy ; otherwise its sin and
folly. Tell a Man that hee should have Patience when his
goods are wasted or his good Name impayred, and hee will
turne with great Anger and tell you that a Man neither can
nor ought to have Patience in such cases ; and yet the selfe-
same Person will tell another, when he sees him angry against
sinne in those who are so under his charge as hee shall give an
accompt for them, that he must have Patience ; and if hee
make answere, as hee ought to doe, that hee neither can nor
ought to have Patience in this case, they perswade themselves,
and others too, that theres as great a feult In his zeale as in
the wickednes which he reprehends and goes about to punish.
But let the world say and judge what it please, since I now,
by Gods mercy, have attained the true Coppy of Patience, Ile
follow it, by his blessed Assistance, as neere as I may. Theres
no suffering In temporal! respects that I will not endeavour to
beare patiently. There shalbe no sinne, especially In those
whom I must answere for, which I will not redresse. As long
as Patience workes to this effect I shall esteeme It a vertue, and
further not. Where Long-suffering mends not, chastizement
must follow, and is a part of Charity as well as of Necessity.
No Man shall henceforth perswade mee that that Patience
which, by abetting or occasioning of Obstinacy in Evill [leads]
to destruction, can bee a branch of Gods Patience, which, by
inducement of repentance, leads on to salvation.
Your conclusion seemes so right and necessary in my Judge
ment (sayd the Cheife), as I cannot but earnestly beseech God

I HS

117

that I may bee your partner in the execution as well as I now
am in the assent thereunto.
And now, I pray you, deare Cheerefull, to proceede,
the richnes of this veine having encreased our desires to the
further opening of this Myne.
The second great proofe of the excellency of Patience (sayd
the Cheerefull) is the Scriptures Instancing it as a vertue
and Honour in all the Saints of God. Other Graces seeme to
bee parcelled out amongst them ; very few have all, at least
in any eminency. But Patience, Uke a joynt Inheritance,
appeares equally, as It were, divided amongst them. Every one
Is compleat in the habitt and perfect in the working of Patience.
Begin the examination from AbeU to Zacbarias, In the Old
Testament : There's no one just man to be found that beares not
wittnes to this truth by the patient undergoing of Labour,
the patient enduring of afflictions, and the patient expectation
of the reward which God hath promised to them who, by
patient Continuance in well-doing, seek for glory and honour
and immortality.
As for the New Testament, this Vertue seemes, both by the
Injunction and Example of our Blessed Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, to be so farre advanced above all others that
St. Paul makes It both the cheife proofe for Eminency ot
dignity and office amongst Gods Servants and the surest
measure of their proficiency in his grace.
Hee preferres it before signes and wonders for Confirmation
of his Apostieship, and when he is forced to make comparison
with others that boasted themselves for great ones, waving the
Excellency of all other guifts, he putts the Issue of the tryall
mainely upon the exercize of this vertue. The abundance of
his sufferings is that whereby he would have the Aboundance
of Gods grace and favour to him to bee estimated, and the
Evidency of his exceeding Patience, beyond all others, to bee
the unanswereable Argument of his Advantage over them
touching spiritual! priviledges. And verily, sett Charity aside,
which Is not one, but the perfection of aU vertues and graces,

ii8 IHS
and there Is not anything whatsoever whereby our Conformity
to Christ and his Doctrine Is so absolutely evinced and made
manifest as by long-suffering and Patience. Its the prime
Lesson that Christ sett us if wee desire to become Hke him.
Learne of me, I am meeke and lowly ; and our carefull
taking out Is the best testimony that wee can have ourselves,
or give others, to bee really his scholars. Other vertues may
be learned by his ushers, but Patience is that which our
great Master reserves to his owne teaching. Learne of me
directs us not onely to the perfect, but to the onely Master of
this Profession.
The worlde It selfe confirmes this truth by putting all
manner of clalme to Patience, which to other vertues it will
by no meanes doe. Patience onely hath of all vertues the
surname of Christian imposed on it, and those people onely in
common Language termed good Christians that are con
spicuously endued therewith.
Patience and Christianity are such Relatives as they cannot,
in the worlds esteeme, be separated, neither in their being nor
in their growth. They enter joyntly Into the heart, and run
on parallell In the Lives of those that are truely Christs
disciples. Hee that by other vertues goes after Christ follows
him in the way ; but hee that goes after him by Patience
follows him (as sayth St. Peter) in his very steps, which must
needs lead on to eternall happines, whither hee is ascended.
This is that second argument that enforced mee to the Love
and admiration of Patience : That our Lord gave it, and all
his Saints have accepted it, as the proper Armes of Christian
Rehgion. Not onely the distinction, but the honour of Gods
Children lies in it. Hee that refuseth to beare Patience for
his Coat must passe over Into some other Family. Hee may
bee a Gallant, a martiall Man, a great Man of this world ; a
Saynt of Heaven, a good Christian hee cannot bee. Tme
Patience Is ever the Inseparable Consort of Christian religion,
when it is sincerely professed ; and Christian religion is the
onely Profession that gives admittance to true Patience.

IHS 119
Verily (sayd the Guardian) it must needs bee as you say ;
and now I see the reason why not onely Virgill and Homere,
but Ariosto and Spencer and all other bookes of Chevalry,
bring in their fayned worthies so defective In Patience. Mans
wltt can well enough, I perceive, fitt all other weapons of
Christian Religion to serve the worlds turnes, even against
religion ; but onely Patience thats too weighty to bee put on
a Counterfeit. Hee must bee a Christian in earnest and not
in appearance that weares this peice of Armour, which,
because these famous Devises want, however compleat In the
height of all other vertues they bee made, I cannot allow
them to passe for good examples of vertue amongst Chris
tians. Your Censure is very favourable (sayd the Cheife) In
Comparison of his that Is of opinion that Orlando and the
rest of those renowned Palladlnes through the recompting of
their worthy Action have beene made the destroyers of more
Christian soules than ever they killed pagane Bodies, and yet
he doubts not (as hee sayth) of that Battle wherein above
three hundred thousand Moores are, by good and authentical!
Historians, reported to have beene slaine by Orlando In one
day. The full proofe of this Charge I shall leave to bee made
at the Light of that Bone-fire which Is resolved, as soone as
Conveniency permitts, to be made of all these kinds of Bookes
by our Visitour. But that which is proper to this subject wee
are on, and perhaps not of so common Observation, though
of much greater Consequence to the disclosing of that
Mystery of Iniquity which Hes wrapped up in them, I should
doe wrong, mee thinks, to overpasse.
You should, indeed (sayd the Guardian), both to the matter
wee have in hand, and to the Company, some of whom, it may
bee, through an habituated delight in these vanities from their
Cradle almost, have need of all the Antidotes that can bee
ministered to keepe them from relapse into a tolerable Opinion,
at least of that which they have so clearely loved and prized.
That, then (sayd the Cheife), which I have by way of

120 IHS
Minister to present unto you, is that the world and the Devill
owe to these Histories of Chivalry the making of that
Match betweene Christianity and revenge, which could never,
though diligently laboured from the very first, bee brought to
passe till these last and perilous times of ours.
If I were not a Christian I would strike thee again, sayd the
Invincible Christopher, when he received a Blow In the face
from the President of Samos ; but because I am a Christian
I put it up without repayment. Antiquity knew not how,
though. In the representation of an Hercules, to fayne a
Composition between Christian Profession and requittal! of
evill, though it were but one for another. Whence, then,
comes it now, that a sevenfold returne of Injuries passeth for
an honour amongst them that not onely prize themselves, but
are honoured by others with the Name of good Christian
Professors of the Gospell ?
Undoubtedly, from the lying Patternes of Orlando and
Rogero, from the counterfeit approbation of Carloman and
Gotgrlde touching these practizes, there lies the springhead
of these poysonous [Histories], and thence are those wretched
opinions first taken, which afterwards, by fond reason and
ungodly examples of eminent Personages, take eternall rooting
in carnall Minds.
Theres nothing, questionlesse, more pleasing to Mans
corrupt Nature than Revenge. The AUowance that Maho-
mets religion gives hereunto is one of the great inducements
which procured him at the first, and still maintaines him so
many Followers.
False Christians loth to turne open Turkes, and yet as
eagerly bent to the prosecution of this Affection, have at last
found the salve of this by coyning such new patternes as might
serve their owne turne. Champions in the Fayth are produced
compleat in all manner of Vertues, Patience excepted. That
which is left out in the example is that which is cheifly
Intended for Imitation. All the rest is but a Flourish, and
serves onely to make this deformity the more lovely, whilest it

IHS 121
Is accompanied with such abundance of excellenceyes. But
painted Fire warmes not, however lively it bee sett forth, nor
was ever any man made truely better by meanes of these
Devises. Who dare truely say that either Temperance,
Justice, Charity, or any other Vertue ever tooke rise or
heate In his mind or desires from Orlando his Examples,
or any of the rest of those Chimeras ? And who can truely
deny but that, on the contrary, through the faire appearances
and encouragements of such uncontrolled Presidents, as they
are made, the Impatiency of Offences, the requitaU of Injuries,
the shedding of Bloud, as if it were but shedding of water, have
beene bred and nourished in his heart as Dispositions necessary
and comely in worldly respects tolerable enough with Chris
tian reUgion ? The plausible entertainment of these Opinions
in the world Is that which cheifly Is Intended In these bookes ;
if not in the Authors designes, yet certainly In the Devills
application, without the Assistance of whose spirit they are
never contentedly read, and what hand may wee think hee
had in the composing of them ! Let no man be deceived by
the faire, goodly pourtraltures of the vertue which appeareth
engraven to the life in them. They are but like the matrone
Dresses and modest behaviour wherewith wicked strumpets
enflame evill Affections.
In the removal! of Patience they sappe the groundworke,
and manifest to them that well observe, that all their pretence
of building up the walls is but the more [designed] to colour
their undermining the foundation of Christian Religion, the life
and power whereof, in many wise and good Mens Judgements,
hath in these last times beene [more endangered] by these kind
of Bookes then by any other engine of Hell whatsoever.
Insomuch as the allowing of them In a Family professing Gods
service is, by Men, very great both in learning and Devotion,
thought and written to be sinne enough to cause the burning
of the House, or the unnatural! Death of the helre, or any
other such greviously calamity, and they think it may justly
be imputed to this when other guiltlnes appeares not evidently
to have drawen them on.

122 IHS
But I put my sickle into anothers Harvest. The danger of
some weaker minds relapse, which you intimated, hath carried
me further then I intended, touching the discovery of the
Mystery of Iniquity, which, I told you, lay wrapped up In the
kind of Bookes and Composures. To reduce, therefore, the
discourse where It begunne, and shutt up all :
As the reconciling of the Difference betweene Mans naturall
Temper and true Patience is one of the great Miracles which
our Saviour hath wrought, so the League betweene Christian
ReUgion and unpatiency, which hath so openly and solemnly
been concluded in these latter Ages of the world, deserves
justly to bee esteemed one of the cheife of those lying
wonders whereby the comming and power of Antichrist is to
be made famous, wherein (to reserve all other parallels to
further opportunity) pray observe, that both God and the
Devill worke their Miracles after the same Manner. The
proposall of true Examples In the Scripture is that whereby
God leades his Saints on to Patience, and the proposall of
lying examples in Bookes of Chivalry is that whereby the
Devill cheifly seduceth carnall and worldly Minds then to
the Love and practize of Impatiency in the highest kind and
degree. Since wee have your Assurance, dearest Cheife (sayd the
Guardian), that this ere long shall come not onely to fuUer
handUng but finall determination, I think it just for the present
to restraine my desires, though they bee very earnest. Onely
one thing, which I know not whether I shall have the Uke
opportunity for, I pray now make mee understand a little
better. That Patience is a greater guift then Miracles I have
often heard from many and believe, and that It is a greater
proofe of Gods grace then Miracles seemes undeniable, St.
Paul making it plainly the first and maine proofe of our
dependance on Christ as Servants, In all things approving
ourselves as the Ministers of God in much Patience and in
Afflictions ; but that It should bee a Miracle Itselfe, as you say,
I doe not so well [comprehend].

IHS 123
I shall tell you (sayd the Cheife) a short story out of
Cassianus, which will perhaps better satisfy you touching this
matter then a long discourse of mine owne. —
A venerable old Man, walking the streets of Alexandria In
time of persecution, upon Notice given that he was a Christian,
Is suddenly enclosed by an unruly Multitude of Idolaters, who,
after all manner of despltefuU usage, both In words and deeds,
began joyntly with much scorne to demande of him What great
Miracles hath this Christ of thine done, whom thou makest
to bee God ? to which the blessed Saint cheerefuUy made
answer. That I can patiently endure all those wrongs which
you doe mee, and more and greater, if need bee, without any
disquiet In my selfe or Offence towards you.
Oh, now I perceive my former dulnes (sayd the Guardian).
The fire burnes not the body either more naturally or more
felrcely then Injuries doe the mind. It must, therefore, bee
alike miraculous to comport wrong without offence as to walke
through the flame without scortching ; and now, there being
no more to bee expected touching this point, I desire you, deare
Cheerefull, to goe on to the next.
The wonderfull gaine that accrues by Patience is the third
argument which, mee thinks, ought to compell every one, as It
did mee, to the pursulte thereof above all other things. The
time would faile to recount all. I will onely therefore instance
three Benefitts proper to Patience, and exceeding all others in
my Apprehension.
First, it resettles a man in the possession of himselfe, from
whence sin and other Passions have ejected him. In your
Patience (sayth our Saviour to his Disciples) possesse your
soules. Secondly, it entities him to the Kingdome of heaven. Blessed
are the poore In spirit, and blessed are those that suffer persecu
tion, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
And thirdly, it invests him in the fruition of all the good
things of this Life.
The meeke spirited shaU possesse the Earth, and shalbe

124 IHS
refreshed in the Multitude of Peace. Other vertues regaine by
little and little one Parcell after another what wee have lost,
but Patience makes an intire, absolute re-entry at once into
heaven, earth, and ourselves. And what thing then can wee
find answerable to Patience for advantage and Beneficialnes ?
That Patience makes a Man Owner of himselfe (sayd the
Guardian) the world cannot well deny, seeing It Is one of the
first prayers that Men commonly make upon any great distresse.
That God would give them Patience to keepe themselves in
their right witts ; and, on the other side, of impatient Men
they say they are out of their wltts and beside themselves. As
for the Kingdome of heaven, they will not much contend but
that the interest that Patience hath thereunto may be as great
as Christ promiseth, but that it should bee such a seed of
content here on Earth, and such a way to purchase honour and
Happines in this Life, they will never bee brought to beleive,
how many texts of scripture soever bee brought in proofe
thereof. Now, although Proverbs have no Creditt with mee against
truth it selfe, whose Authority I have alledged, yet, because they
have perhaps with many others, who will by no meanes bee
perswaded to understand Christs and Davids words as [applying],
I would bee glad to bee furnished with some good answere
touching these which you have already recompted, and all
other those proverbial! sentences whereof the world is full, to
sett forth the Damage that Patience brings to him that useth
it. It is true (sayd the Cheerefull). If they be weU sought
up, there will perhaps bee more common by-words found to the
prejudice of Meeknes and Patience then of all the other
vertues besides. Such is the worlds Malice to Patience. But
MaUce never speakes the truth. Lets come to the Touch
stone, and you shall see they are all false peices, however
currant they passe in the world. Peruse the Bible, which is
the onely uncontrollable record of Mens Actions, and you
shall find that Prosperity and Patience have ever gone together,-

I HS

125

and that the mightiest, the most honorable, and the happiest of
Mankind have ever beene the Meekest and most Patient in
their generation. What was then must needs bee now.
Patience cannot loose her vertue, but must still bee a pro
moter, even in temporall respects, of them that are endued
therewith. The Evidency is so great as needs no Instance of
Particulars. What answere shall wee then give (sayd the Guardian) to
those Millions of Examples which the world produceth to the
contrary, every Man almost lamenting that his Patience
turnes to his damage, and the more he beares the more is put
upon him ?
Patience perforce and Patience for advantage are those onely
kinds of Patience which the world knows, at least practlzeth
(sayd the Patient). And as neither of these are thankworthy
at Gods [hand] (as St. Peter speakes), so neither have they any
certainety or greatnes of reward annexed to them. It is no
marvell!, therefore. If the world judge them more burdensome
in the performance then profitable In the fruit and consequence.
But true Patience, that, out of obedience to Gods will and
conformity to our Saviours example, willingly undergoes
greife by the effecting of good, hath an undefeazable obligation
of Gods owne hand for such reward as it selfe desires. Let
them produce but one that will say he hath lost by this kind of
Patience ; either the encrease or continuance of his sufferings
have been thought thereby beyond that which otherwise they
had beene, and they have indeed brought in a Traverse to that
which Scripture sayth. But otherwise all the proofes that are
alledged fall besides the cause. They speake home to the
Danger and unprofittablenes that is in necessitated Patience,
that suffers onely because it cannot choose and dares not resist.
They speake home likewise to voluntary Patience, that is
intended onely for honour and advantage.
But these fall as short both ofthe Nature and perfection of
true Christian Patience as the cold watery Light of the Moone
doth of the warme and Life producing influence of the Sunne.

126 IHS
Wee may well enough perhaps allow the worlds maximes to
bee true while they keepe them in their owne Bounds. But if
from the defects of worldly Patience, which they make some
times tryaU of, they goe about to inferre the like and greater
Inconveniences in Christian Patience, which they are not at
all acquainted with, they deale no fairer then some wlUfull men
now adaies doe, who, by the Observation of many Cousenages
in base Empericks and some evill consequences from unskilful!
Practitioners of Physlck, grow absolutely to condemne that
Divine Art as the overthrow of Life and health, to the main
tenance whereof it is by Gods ordinance instituted, and, being
rightly exercized, doth most exceUently conduce.
The remembrance of that ancient Commendation of Patience
making it the Medicine of Greife setts your comparison of it
more lively in mine eye (sayd the Guardian), and by it and
that which you have sayd I begin to see the Light. This
cequivocaU Acceptation of Patience must needs breed a divereity
of Conclusions, and so that which the world sayth may in some
sort bee true, and that which the Scripture teacheth must
needs bee in all regards infalUble.
But for the saving of the worlds Creditt I am nothing at all
carefull. Let Baal plead for himselfe and for his Proverbs,
which, however in sense of words they may perhaps bee made
good, yet I am sure in common apprehension are most
maliciously false.
But touching the Doctrine ofthe Scripture I would bee glad
to bee a little better informed. I pray, therefore, tell mee
whether you so conceive that true Patience ever works to
ease of the sufferings and returne of Comfort.
Alwaies (sayd the Patient) at the last to them that desire
Ease and Deliverance. Many examples, I doubt not. In all
Ages may bee brought of longsome sufferings in good men,
and some, perchance, which a Uttle Impatiency would have
much speedlier ridd them of then Patience did ; but none can
be brought, as I suppose, where Patience wrought not deliver
ance In the end, and that of a farre better kind then

I HS

127

Impaclency could have done if they had followed the
perswaslons thereof.
If David had tooke away Sauls Life upon those faire oppor-
tunityes which were offered him, hee might have beene the
sooner free perchance from that dread and Anguish wherein he
lived by Sauls Persecution, but assuredly hee had never come
to that Glory and happines whereunto in the end hee attained.
The workings of Patience are oftimes slow, but they are ever
sure and abundant. The delay Is manifoldly repayed by the
Plenty of the retribution which Patience brings to them that
desire retribution in this Life, which many have refused, as St.
Paul testifieth, to the Intent they might bee partakers of a
greater reward in Heaven. Himselfe and most of the just and
perfect men since our Saviours appearance in the Flesh have
beene of the same mind to think Affliction their happines and
the exercize of Patience a better and greater Content then the
enjoyment of any though never so lawfull delights In this world.
Wee ought not, therefore, to be pressed with Examples of their
sufferings who would not bee eased, as giving any Cheque to
the truth of this Doctrine which Truth it selfe hath spoken.
That blessed are the meeke, for they shall inherit the Earth,
That alwaies they doe in the end. If themselves desire It.
The patient abiding of the meeke shall not perish for ever,
sayth David. It may bee long put of, but in the end it shalbe
fully satisfied according to his own expectation. For the Lord
is very pittifuU and of great Mercy, as St. James sayth, and for
proofe thereof hee brings Job, willing us to looke on his
Example, and by It to make this conclusion. That they are
happy which endure, not in their owne present sufferings, but
In the happy End that the Lord shall give unto them, as hee
did unto Job, sending a double portion of very Comforts and
good things, the Loose and Depravation whereof he patiently
underwent out of Obedience to God's holy will and pleasure.
You have fully cleared the matter In my apprehension (sayd
the Guardian), and to say something in confirmation, since
there is nothing to say in opposition, Davids Impatiency

128 IHS
against Abishai for his intended kindnesse to take of Shemeis
rayling head, and the reason that hee gives shews plainly that
hee thought nothing more profitable then Patience, whilst hee
makes the opportunity that God offered him to exercize it an
Argument of his hope to bee restored againe to his prosperity.
It may bee that the Lord will looke upon my Affliction, and
that my Lord wiU requite good for his cursing ; not for the
Malice, from whence it proceeded in Shemei, but for the
Meekenes, wherewith it was entertained by David. That's
the meaning, and the may bee which David puts was onely in
regard of his owne guiltlnes, that made himselfe as unworthy
to receive those favours which otherwise Patience would un
doubtedly procure at Gods hand. Hee is much more offended,
therefore, with his freinds Love then with his enemies Injuries,
and more jealous to keepe matter of Patience afoot then to
ward his head from Shemeis stones. Let him curse (sayth
David), deprive mee not of that happy Comfort which the
patient enduring of this present greif shall in the end
bring unto mee. You know the Issue was answerable to
Davids expectation, and ought to bee an incouragement to us
to follow his example in the like occasions, which God grant
mee as happily to performe as now I earnestly desire. And
now, deare Cheerefull, I pray goe on to that which is
remaining, for that there is something yet behind, your
Countenance shews as well as the matter it selfe seemes to
crave. There is one thing more indeed (sayd the Cheerefull)
with which I will conclude, and that is, Since Man's Nature
stands so much upon right, that there is nothing more right
and equall then that wee should with Patience undergoe those
sufferings which befall us, whatever they bee : firet, because
they come from Gods hand ; and secondly, because they come
by our owne deserts. David and Job hold the firet reason
enough to bee content. The Lord hath taken, sayth Job,
and sitts him downe patiently in the Dust. And the Lord
hath bid him curse, sayth David, and goes on his way weeping

IHS 129
indeed, but quietly. Jacobs sonnes use the second as an argu
ment to appease the swellings of greife when unexpected
Calamity had overtaken them : Wee are verily guilty con
cerning our Brother, therefore is this Distresse come upon us.
Micah put both together : I will beare the Judgement of the
Lord, because I have sinned against him, until hee plead my
Cause and execute judgement for mee. Weigh his reasons
well, and however too It be with us, wee cannot in Justice
make any other resolution then Micah did, to waite patiently
and constantly In all our Afflictions upon God till hee him
selfe give deliverance. And by the same reasons wee shall find
that those murmurings, those helpings and rlghtlngs our selves
which Impatiency perswades us unto, involve a double Impiety
of justifying ourselves and condemning God, as though wee
suffered more Evill then wee deserve, or hee exercized less
justice or kindnes then hee ought to doe.
VerUy (sayd the Guardian) the heart thinks no lesse what
ever the mouth sayth, when Men grudge to beare, or goe
about to helpe and right themselves in their sufferings ; if they
thought not better of themselves then of God, they would be
content to stay his Leasure for the taking of that Burden
which hee layes upon them. And therein perhaps they should
take the wiser Course to their own ends, for commonly it
fares with them as it doth with untowards Beasts. The
Burden that is impatiently cast off is layd on againe with
many stripes to both.
This Is Indeed one of those good services (sayd the Affec
tionate) for which Solomon gives it the prize of Madnes
above all over vices when he sayth that It exalts Folly.
Truly (sayd the Guardian) other vices proceed much more
warily in this matter, though perhaps their good-will they
beare to Folly bee never a whitt lesse. They alledge reason,
such as It is, and pretend to bee under the Obedience of
wisedome, which Impatiency stands not at all upon when It
grows to any height. Take an enraged Man, and hee makes
no scruple to sett folly out to shew, nor to lett all the world
10

130

I HS

know that hee is guided by it. Heel tell you himselfe that
hee Is mad, and will bee mad. In this sence, therefore, very
truly may Impatiency be sayd, it exalts Folly when It gives it
such preheminency of Authority and Honour as to professe
itself subject to the Guidance and Government thereof.
Your Interpretation is surely right (sayd the Affectionate),
but very short of that which I have lately beene taught
touching the meaning of these words which, because it suits
much to the present occasion I shall, if you please, acquaint
you with.
Its well you have voluntarily offered (sayd the Cheife)
that which otherwise wee should have by Course of Law
exacted, that you should likewise bring in your Dish to the
feast, as every Body else hath done, was intended to have
beene demanded, I, and destrained for, too, If you had not
done it freely.
I shall bee glad (said the Affectionate) if it prove as
acceptable as expected.
Well, then, I pray (sayd the Guardian), what may that
bee which, either out of these words, or by occasion of these
words, you have learned so much to the matter wee are now
In hand with.
That Impatiency is the Cause of all the Imperfections In
Mens works and Actions (sayd the Affectionate), and that
on the other side Patience is the Nuree, if not the Mother, of
all Perfection, not onely in Divine, but also in humane respects
and things, of this world.
Indeed (sayd the Guardian) this is a transcendent exalta
tion of folly on Impatlencys behalfe, as on the contrary It
must needs enforce a great preheminence of Wisedome
belonging to Patience if it be such a maine Cause of Per
fection. But how can you make proofe of these things by
Scripture ?
What need wee seeke for proofe in Scripture (sayd the
Affectionate) of that which dayley Experience gives
evident demonstration of in all things ?

IHS 131
Looke well and you shall see that all that bungling in
Trades, that unskillfulnes In Arts, that errour In Sciences, and
in a word, all that Insufficiency In professions which deformes
and ruines the world, proceeds mainly from Impatiency, either
in learning or in practizing their severaU workes. Naturall
AbiUties in most Men serve well enough, fitting Instruments
and all other opportunities abound to know all things aright
and to doe them well. Onely Patience Is wanting, and that
marres all.
Bee the witt never so good, the Instruments never so apt,
the Advantage never so great for learning and performance of
any skill, and yet give mee an Impatient minded Man that
cannot hold him close and constant to the Businesse, and -you
shall find him upon the Test but shallow In what he under
stands and a slubberer In what he doth.
The hasty Bitch brings forth blind whelps, is a Proverb
truely appliable to all humane Actions. That which through
Impatiency is dispatched with speed comes forth alwaies like
Chickens artificially hatched In Egypt, some way or other
monstreous, either by defect, or excesse In some one part or
other, and therefore Solomon sayth. That there is more hope of
a foole then of a man that is hasty in his matters. A right
simple witt by Patience and Perseverance overcomes all manner
of difficulties, and brings forth whatever It undertakes com
pleat. Whereas the most excellent abilities with all the helps
that can bee, if Patience be away foyle themselves instantly in
their owne apprehension of things, in the expression of them
to others, and in the performance of that which comes to
execution. Their conceits runne cleane away ; their words
are now short, now over, never hitting the Marke ; their
Actions alwaies full of Errour and Incongruity, all merely
through Impatiency, that In contemplation hastens them
away before they fully understand the matter, that In
deliberation puts them on to speake before they well know
what, and, when they come to put things in execution, makes
them give over or turne to other meanes when they find any

132 IHS
rubbe in that way which they have begunne. These are the
fruits of Impatiency, and the predominancy of It and them
in our weaker sex the onely ground of the fllghtines and insuf
ficiency wherewith not onely all womens words and workes, but
even their naturall Constitution is taxed. I say not but there
bee some few things perhaps whereunto neither the Capacity of
womens minds nor the Abilities of their bodies doe generally
serve, such as are the depth of Learning and the Labours of
warre. But that in all things, I, even in those things which
seeme properly our owne, wee should be so farre outrunne by
men when they sett themselves to vy with us, cannot proceed
from any thing but from the Impatiency of our Minds, which
suffers us not to bee seriously intentlve to that which wee
desire to learne, nor steedily imployed in that wee undertake
to performe. So that wee both know and say and doe aU
good things but by halfes at the best, which questionlesse
might be throughly In all perfection accomplished. If we
would let Patience have her perfect working ; for even to this
sence doe St. James his words extend themselves, and all those
other many Commendations which Solomon gives unto Patience
as including much wisedome and understanding, whereof hee
seemes to make Patience the rule and measure, as it were, when
hee saith That a mans Learning is knowne by his Patience,
whether wee understand by Learning that knowledge which
a Man professeth to teach others, or that measure of knowledge
which himselfe hath attained unto.
Theres no surer way to make the tryall both of the good
nes and defects, then by the gage of Patience. The Doctrine
that is confirmed by the Teachers Patience is, and ought
to bee, of great Creditt for truth, and the measure of Learning
and skiU in every man and in every kind, ought to bee
accompted proportionably to the Measure of Patience by
which hee attained, and with which he exercizeth it. If he
had much Patience in learning hee is undoubtedly perfect
in the knowledge that hee professeth. If hee have used much
patience about the worke that he produceth, that is likewise

IHS 133
undoubtedly compleat. Hee that is patient worketh great
wisedome, but hee that Is Impatient worketh FoUy, sayth
Solomon. Whether hee speaks, or worke, or doe. Its all
amisse. Make the examination where you please, and you
shall see that as Impatiency leads alwaies to Folly, so Folly for
the most part proceeds from Impatiency. And this Is one of
those things that I was taught by those words, Hee that is
impatient exalteth Folly.
Why if it bee but one (sayd the Guardian) it is not all,
and therefore you may not here make an end, for both your
promise and our expectation is that you should teach all that
yourselfe Is taught In this matter.
I shall gladly doe It (sayd shee), because I conceive It to bee
neither lesse true nor lesse profitable then the former. The
second thing was, therefore, that all the high prized Follies in
the world have beene cheifly sett up and are maintained in
honour and Esteeme by and for Impatiency, that it may have
the freer bent, and passe without Controll.
What (sayd the Guardian smilingly) wiU you perswade
us that all your womanly Niceties of rubbing floores till you
may see your Faces shine in them, of whiting Llnning till it
passe the driven snow, of conserving, preserving, and all those
other busy Curiosities for which you soe magnify yourselves,
have their Creditt cheifly for the better Inducement and
support of Impatiency ?
I, verily (sayd shee), and aU those other more boisterous and
more pernicious vanities you Men ar carried with, of buUding,
of hunting, of keeping Company, and the Hke, proceed from
the same ground, and tends to the same end, is that which I
would perswade and am confident to make proofe of. But
why, I pray, do you instance our womanly affaires with such
contempt ?
Because (sayd the Guardian) they bee utterly unworthy
the Dignity of Mans Nature to take any pleasure or delight
in them ; and much more to glory of them. Judge In your
selves what a debasement it must needs be of those noble

134 IHS
Faculties of the will and reason that were made for Contem
plations and pursulte of heavenly Affaires to powre out them
selves In the Love and prosecution of such abject Matters.
Why, some thing wee must needs doe (sayd the Affec
tionate). Mans Soul cannot bee without Imployment ; and
since you have taken away great matters from us, you ought
not to viUfy these so much wherein the mind in regard of its
owne working is nobly busied, however the subject bee but
meane. Theres exercize of Invention, of Composition, of
Order, and of all the other excellent operations of the Soule,
and the Beauty, and Pleasure, and other good effects that arise
from these Imployments. And herein lies our delight, not in
the things themselves, as you seeme to conceive.
That cannot possibly bee (sayd the Guardian). For then
by how much it is more excellent to have the minds of your
Families well composed then the roomes of your house
curiously dressed, your Children well fed then your Table
dantily furnished ; by so much would your Care been greater
In these matters then in the other.
You would have us then (sayd the Affectionate) spend
all our time and care upon our Servants and Children, in
structing their understandings and framing their manners,
still watching over them to exact an orderlines and perfection
in vertue and knowledge, as wee bring our houses to the height
of beauty and conveniency. And so wee must become
absolute School-Mistresses in steed of good Husewives.
I would have you both (sayd the Guardian) carefull
Guides of your house and diligent Teachers of your Children ;
the Neglect and disesteeme of which Office and Imployment
seemes to me one of the soveraigne Follies of this world, there
being no duty which Parents so much ow their ChUdren, nor
anything wherein themselves can bee more nobly exercized
then in teaching their children and instructing them in Vertue
and Learning. But are wee not wandred from the point ?
Not at aU (sayd the Affectionate), if you wiU but teU us
whence the withdrawing of Parents from this duty proceeds.

IHS 135
Is It perhaps through Ignorance of the worth thereof, or
through want of Love to their Children ?
All wise Parents (sayd the Guardian) give Instruction the
prize of all other Benefitts which their children receive by
their meanes.
And why, then, since it is the best Portion, are they not
desirous to bestow It by their owne hands and mouths, rather
then by others mercenary paps and Care (sayd the Affec
tionate) ? Doe they want Love to performe it ?
No, no (sayd the Guardian). Now I perceive the Cause ;
they want Patience. Thats the common and the onely
answere which they will stand by. And now I understand
whereat you aime, and must needs yeeld unto it as an evident
truth. Its Impatiency onely that hath suflfred this painefull
Education of our Children as too meane a matter for Persons
of better rank and spirit. And it can bee nothing else but
Impatiency that hath sett up on high those other vaine Imploy
ments which come in Place thereof. What you have brought
mee to see in one particular Is true In all the rest. The
Impatiency of enduring that Paines and Care which belongs to
goverment makes our Gentry and NobiUty cast up their owne
and their Countries busines, and betake themselves to hunt
ing, hawking, and the Hke Riots. And these they magnify
as noble Imployment, not because themselves are so perswaded
(for their owne Consciences tell them they bee but unworthy
vanityes), but because by the appearance of bodily Labour they
have a faire colour for the Idlenes of their Minds, and in the
Independancy that these kind of Actions have to any others, a
freedome for their Inconstant Affections and humours to revell
as they please. And now to make a proofe whether I rightly
and fuUy understand this matter, give me leave, dear Affec
tionate, to make the conclusion according to mine owne
Apprehension, wherein, if I any waies faile, make you the
amends by Addition and Correction of what shall bee needfull.
This, then, mee thinkes, seeme to bee plaine : That every one
that through Impatiency deserts his owne proper worke, first

136 IHS
endeavours by slighting it to find excuse for what hee leaves
undone, and next by ampUfylng the worth of that which hee
set himselfe about, to have a pretence for his Continuance
therein. Thus farre you goe very rightly (sayd the Affec
tionate). The Conclusion then follows of it selfe (sayd the Guardian)
that hee must needs become a Depresser of wisedome and an
Exalter of FoUy. For every Mans happines lieth in the
performance of his owne proper Charge which is imposed upon
him. Hee abandons wisedomes Colours therefore, who ever
hee bee, that forsakes his owne stations, though it bee for the
better. But such choise Impatiency seldome makes, hunting
onely after that which is pleasant and delightfuU to disordered
sences and affections, whereof Folly Is the Guide and Mistresse,
and all that shee directs unto, like her selfe. The Impatient
Man, therefore, whilest hee leaves the good for the pleasant,
runs necessarily unto the Campe of Folly, and In the end, whilst
he will justify his error, turnes her Champion. And now,
adding the last Commendations of Wisedome to those other
foure of Strength, Excellencle, Beneficialnes, and Justice,
which the Cheerefull taught us out of Holy Scripture to
belong to Patience, wee may, mee thinks, well conclude where
our Cheife began, with St. James : That If Patience have her
perfect working It will worke us perfect and intire, wanting
Nothing. The Perfection of Patience hath beene lively demonstrated
by that which hath beene already spoken, but the perfect
Manner of her working seemes not to mee as yet sufficiently
declared (sayd the Moderatour). Wherefore I should desire
some further Light in this matter, which I suppose will bee
given by the Declaration of those severall kinds and degrees of
Patience which have beene so often mentioned to day, but no
where plainely expressed in this discourse.
You have mentioned a necessary point (sayd the Guardian),
and which was often in my mind to have asked, but reserving
it still to a convenient place, I had in the end by mine owne

IHS 137
forgetfulnes, perhaps, lost It, which that it befall mee not with
another doubt which I have, I pray give mee Leave now,
whilest it is in remembrance, to crave the solution of from the
Cheerefull, and that is. Why shee makes it a proper Doctrine
of the Scripture that wee should hold it meete and just
patiently to undergoe sufferings when they come unto us ?
The Case (sayd the Cheerefull) is very plaine if you
observe the arguments which I brought, that all that befalls us
comes from Gods hand and by our owne Desert, which, being
founded upon our Belelf of Gods absolute and immediate
providence, and Mans sinfuU Nature, can have no infallible
Demonstration but from the Doctrine of the Scripture, which
teacheth us that not so much as a haire of our Heads falls to
the ground without Gods Notice, and that however Innocent
our actuali Lives may perhaps seeme each to our selves, yet
the originali sinne with which wee came polluted Into the
world makes us liable to farre sorer punishment then any Man
had ever inflicted upon him.
You have fully satisfied mee (sayd the Guardian). All
other Doctrines but Scripture fall short In these two points of
Gods providence and Mans Guilt, and therefore leave the
exception which the world makes oftimes against Patience but
unsufficiently answered. And now, I pray, according to the
Moderatours proposition, for the finishment of this matter
let us have the severall kinds and degrees of Patience.
As there are three principali Objects, so there seemes to bee
three more severall kinds of Patience (sayd the Patient). The
first is that which constantly endures Labour and paines in well
doing, not without wearinesse — for that Flesh and Bloud cannot
doe — but without giving over till the work in hand bee
accompHshed. And this Patience hath Idlenes for its Opposite,
and Ease and Pleasure for the Bayt wherewith the DevlU
seekes to withdraw us from the exercize of it, and is the
most common and universall Temptation wherewith hee fights
against mankind.
The second kind of Patience is that which beares losse and

138 IHS
Injuries from Man, not without resistance— for that oftimes it
may lawfuUy use, but ever without ill-will against the party
from whom the wrong comes. This kind of Patience hath
wrath for its Contrary, and revenge Is the maine Engine
wherewith the Devill batters it.
The third kind of Patience Is that which undergoes greife
and sorrow which God pleaseth to inflict, without murmuring
or repining against him. Complalne it may, but it is of its
owne weakenes and guilt, not of Gods unkindnesse. It ever
justifies God and strives to be thankfuU, not onely quiet.
These are the three kinds of Patience, and as many are the
degrees. The lowest Is that which undergoes Sufferings with
out seeking redresse either sooner or otherwise then God
appoints. The second is that which willingly enters upon
sufferings that it may become more perfect, and the third
degree Is that which rejoyceth in Afflictions, to which measure
the Apostles attained. To the second many of Gods Saints,
and in especlall the Martyrs, have excelled. To the third all
Christians are of Necessity bound.
Here was the end of this discourse, the close and connex
ion whereof with the foUowing Stories, by reason of the scarcity
of time was omitted. The stories themselves follow in order
and manner as they were told.
The Patient first beginning as followeth : —
A noble Woman of Alexandria, finding that the greatnesse
of her Prosperity offered small occasion for the practize of her
Humility and Patience, that shee might not be wanting in
these, being abundant in all other vertues, besought the great
Athanasius to appoint her one of the Widdows belonging to
the Hospitall, that by her voluntary Ministering to her inferior,
shee might have opportunity to exercize Humility and Charity.
Athanasius consigned a grave and sober Matrone truely fearing
God, with whom this noble Lady having a while conversed,
addressed her selfe by way of complaint to Athanasius, that hee
had, by an ill-intended choise of the widow, frustrated her
desires. Why, quoth Athanasius, I esteemed her to bee a

IHS 139
widdow such as the Apostle requireth, full of vertue and good
nes. So, verily, she Is, replied the Lady ; that is that makes
mee now beseech the change, for her thankful! acceptation
doth more than repay all the Benefitts which shee receiveth
from mee, that I cannot hope for any recompence from God
at all that am neere more then doubly repayed for my Charity,
and otherwise her respect to mee Is such that I receive comfort
and honour instead of exercizing Patience and Humility.
Athanasius, understanding her, wiUed that one of the most
froward and perverse of all the widdows should be sent home
unto her, which being accordingly done, after some while
Athanasius, meeting the noble woman, asked her how she
rested contented with the last. Even as I desire, sayd shee ;
for the more vexation I receive for the good I doe, the more
profitable doe I find it to bee for mee.
I have heard (sayd the Guardian) in former recomptlngs
of this Story and Authority produced for it, that the perverse-
nes of the froward Widdow was so excessive as she forbore not
now and then to lay hands upon her Benefactor, adding Blows
to evill words, which, because it is not onely a proofe of the
excellency of her Patience may bee an Inducement on the like
occasions to perfect the same grace in us, I have thought
necessary to remember, and withall to propound to your con
sideration, the which I confesse much affects me. That is the
great difference of opinion betweene those ancient times and
our proud Age, as in all other things, so especially In this
matter. Who could not now adaies think they should runne
much hazard of loosing the Kingdome of Heaven by living with
such a Person and being put upon such things as this truely
noble Lady made choise of that shee might more certainely
and more fully come to the Attainement of everlasting
Happines ?
How necessary Patience was in old time thought to bee for
the perfecting of Vertue and Glory (sayd the Cheife) that
yong man shewed who, being willed by his Master to give
some good Lesson to certaine devout Persons that came for

HO IHS
Instructions to him, rose up, and flinging his Garment on the
ground began to trample upon it, still treading down those
parts that seemed to beare up themselves, saying that a Man
could not come to perfection except hee were well tryed by
Injuries and so kept under by Sufferings that no swelling of
exaltation should arise, at least continue, in his heart.
Your Story (sayd the Guardian) is Hke a Jewell, of a
little Bulk but of great worth ; but, comming in but by the
way, will not satisfy for that which wee expect from you.
It is not my meaning (sayd the Cheife), though you
would give mee Leave to keepe back the story which I have
provided, which is of a noble Personage of the selfe same
Citty of Alexandria, and setts forth Charity and Patience no
lesse perfect in the Intention and in the end then that which
you have heard of. There was, indeed, a little Interruption of
the perfect working of these graces, but that being rightiy
applied may serve as much to our Benefitt as anything else.
Euloglus was a noble Man of Alexandria, endued with
much wisedome by Nature, adorned with many vertues by
good Breeding, with riches from his predecessore. Notwith
standing all this, finding nothing but Vanity and vexation in
the things of this world, hee resolved abandoning the care of
all earthly things, to sett himselfe wholly to the service of
God ; and so, dispersing the greatest part of his substance to
the poore, hee gave himselfe altogether to Devotion. But per
ceiving by reason of a large use of Delicacies hee was not
able to endure their great Mortifications in his owne body, nor
excessive Labour which hee saw divers Saints of God take for
the Benefitting of others, hee grew much more perplexed least
his Life, that was not of so great Example to others, should
not in the end prove of that acceptation to God.
Being thus greived, one Day he saw a Leaper lying in the
streets, whose Tongue was onely left whole of all his members
of his Body to beg releife with. Euloglus having considered
the wretchednes of the Man and the Nolsomenes of the
disease, thought that there was now offered unto him an

IHS 141
occasion for the exercize of the highest Mortification on him
selfe and Charity towards his Neighbour, and stepping to the
Leaper demanded if he would goe home with him and receive
the most carefull entertalnement and attendance that he could
afford him. The poore Leaper, acknowledging the offer to
bee from God and Euloglus an Angell of Christ, with all
thanks accepted the condition, whereupon Euloglus, fetching
an Asse, conducted him Immediately to his house, serving him
both In the applying of remedies and all other Offices about
his Nourishment and Person with his owne hand for the space
of fifteene yeares with so great Love and tendernes as no
Mother could doe more to her onely Child. In the end the
Leaper, by the suggestion of the Devill, began to wax so
froward and peevish as nothing could content him but that he
would needs be gon, though hee knows not whither. The first
quarrell was for flesh, pretending that he could not any longer
endure that spare and sober diet which he was kept unto.
Herein Euloglus with all meeknes did readily satisfy him, but
could not still his whining ; but the more with gentle and
humble words he sought to pacify him the more outragious
the Leaper grew, teUing Euloglus that his flatteries (for so hee
called his faire speeches) were odious and his kindnes made
him sick. Ah, say not so, said Euloglus, deare Brother, but
tell mee wherein I have done amisse and I will make amends.
No amends, sayd the Leaper, shall serve. lie no more of thy
tendance, no more of thy Curtesy ; carry thou mee to the
place where thou first found mee. God forbid, sayd Euloglus,
that I should preferre thy desire so prejudiciall to thyselfe and
mee, but rather let mee know what may content thee and I
shall procure to bring it to thee for thy good, rather then
carry thee hence to distruction. I cannot, sayd the Leaper,
endure any longer either thy Person or the want of other
Company. That, God willing (sayd Euloglus), I will speedily remedy
by supply of divers holy Persons who will, I know, for
Gods sake afford thee their dayly visitation. But heere the

142 IHS
Leaper exclaiming felrcer then before, I cannot away to looke
on thy face, sayd hee, and wilt thou bring others Hke thy
selfe doubly to torment mee ? Oh, what oppression, oh, what
Tyranny Is this that thou exerclzest on me ! Restore mee
to the place and Condition of Life from which thou drewest
mee. Euloglous, fearing his distemper so strong as hee was In
doubt It might grow unto desperate resolutions, determined, by
the advise of divers good persons, to carry him to St. Anthony,
which, after a long and tedious journey having performed, St.
Antonie after his manner came into a great Roome, where
Euloglus with the Leaper and divers others were waiting for
him. St. Antony, after that in generali he had Instructed and
admonished them, began to descend to the dispatch of every
Mans particular occasions, answering, advising, and com
forting them according to their severall demands and neces
sities, in which, having spent not onely the day but a great part
of the Night, at last he called for Euloglus. It was then
dark and Eulogius, knowing that neither his Person nor
his Busines were knowne to St. Anthonie, thought hee had
called for some one of his Disciples of the same Name, and so
held his peace ; but St. Antony called againe with a louder
voice, saying, I speak to you, Eulogius of Alexandria, and so,
drawing neere to him, demanded. What would thou with
mee ? Eulogius answered, Hee that hath told thee my Name
hath also acquainted thee, I am sure, with my Busines. True,
sayd St. Antony ; but doe thou heere pubUckly declare it ;
whereupon Eulogius made a plaine and breife Narration of the
matter betweene him and the Leaper, in the end adding that
hee was much tempted to cast him out of his house, but before
hee did it he besought his Counsell and Direction. To whom
St. Antonie, in a severe manner repUed, And wilt thou cast
him out indeed ? But God that made him wiU not cast him
away. Thou wilt abandon him, but God will stirre up a
better then thou to take care of him. Eulogius, much terri
fied, held his peace, and after a good pause St. Antony, turning
himselfe to the Leaper with a sterne Countenance and angry

IHS 143
voice — Thou vile Leaper, more horrible in the deformity of
thy soule then of thy Bod}', unworthy of the Earth whereon
thou Hest, and how darest thou then repine and grudge against
such a Blessing sent thee from heaven ; knowest thou not
that it is Christ against whom thou murmurest ? For
Christ It is that minlstreth unto thee in him that for
Christs sake hath made himselfe a servant unto thee.
Having thus spoken hee did for a good space apply himselfe to
the rest of the Company, and then turning againe hee sayd to
Eulogius and the Leaper, Goe home my sons and live together
In peace and continue that exercize of Love and humility with
which you did at first begin. Looke to yourselves that you
loose not those things which you have wrought, but that you
may receive a full reward, and know that this Temptation is
happened unto you by the Malice of the Devill who, knowing
the time of your Combate to bee at an end, would faine robbe
you of the Crowne which is layd up for them which per
severe unto the end in righteousnesse. But bee not you
weary of well doing, and God, who is faithfull, shall preserve
you to the end. Having thus spoken he dismissed them and
they returned Home. First Eulogius died, and within
fourteene daies the Leaper, following him to the fruition of that
Glory which both of them runne the hazard of forfetting
through want of Patience.
Your Story (sayd the Guardian) ministereth abundance
of excellent Observations, whereof these, mee thinks, are most
necessary for us : That in all distresses of our Minds wee
should seeke and follow good Mens Counsaile. Eulogius
had not perhaps done so well if he had relied upon his owne
Judgement as he did in taking St. Antonies Advise, which
was more worth then his paines and cost, though that was
not little, which hee tooke to obtaine it.
Secondly, that the Devill Labours eagerly to part holy
Freindship, especially towards the end.
And thirdly, that Ingratitude is no sufficient cause to
restraine Charity.

144 IHS
I have told you those things which I meane to carry away,
and now, I pray, let the next proceede.
The double mentioning of Alexandria (sayd the Modera
tour) seemes to call for my Story, which is of an Example
or rather an Argument, which was there used to perswade
Patience for naturall Defects.
Didimus of Alexandria, though blind from his youth, yet
attained unto that Excellency of Knowledge as that Age
had none that surpassed him. It so chanced that the great
St. Antony, being drawen to Alexandria for the Confuta
tion of certaine new sprung Heresies, became acquainted
with Didimus, and finding both the sharpnes of wltt and
deepenes of understanding conjoyned in him with an un
matched grace in the interpretation and application of the
Scriptures, he grew not onely to a Love but an admiration
of the Man ; but having observed a continuall sadnes In his
Countenance, hee demanded one Day what might bee the
reason of it, to which Didimus freely, though not without
blushing, confessed that it was his Blindnes. To which
St. Antony replied, I cannot enough marveUe how that the
Losse of that which is common to Emmits and gnats and
flies, should trouble a wise man. How much ought the
participation of those graces which adorne onely holy men,
and even the Apostles themselves, make thee alwaies full
of joy and gladnes ?
This blessed Antony taught him and us to beare patiently
those wants and Afflictions which, by the mercy of God, are
recompenced with greater good, and when Impatiency assalles
us to greive for those things which wee are deprived of, to
turne our hearts to rejoycing and thanksgiving for those better
things wee have.
It is true, sayd the Guardian. Hee that well welgheth
the greater things that hee enjoyeth by Gods Mercy can
never bee cast downe for the want of some better things
which he is deprived of by the wisedome of God. For
certainely, if we could dlscerne aright, wee should perceive

IHS 145
that even those things which are taken from us turne to our
Advantage. So it was, I am sure, in this present Example ot
Didimus. The very Name of him breeds Admiration amongst
the learned, whilest it is certaine hee was very absolute, not
onely in all other manner of Learning, but even in the Mathe-
maticks themselves, which wee think, without visible Demon
stration, impossible to make any Entrance unto. Hee lost
nothing by his BUndnes whilest hee Uved, and by it, since his
death, hee hath gained a more famous and honourable remem
brance then ever any man did by his Eyesight.
If wee follow the clue that you have begun to unwind,
worthyGuARDiAN(sayd the Affectionate ),searching the good
that may bee extracted out of every Evill that happens unto us,
wee shall perhaps find that there is rather cause of rejoycing
then bewailing in the most part of the suffering which befalls
us. I shall tell you an Example of an excellent [Man] in his
way which not onely suits to the discourse wee have in hand,
but to the time, at least, to the Abuse of it, and may serve to
disswade from Play and Gaming as well as to teach Patience
and wisedome.
Cazimere, the Prince of Sendomiria, was a Man of rare
endowments of Nature, which by learning and vertuous
practize hee had so much perfected as there was fewer to be
found his Equals In true worth then in Dignity. It so
happened, that on a Day playing at Tables with a subject of
his, named John Conor, and having won much mony of him,
the Gentleman, desirous to regaine at once what hee had lost
by many parcells, invited the Prince either to double his gaines
by victory, or by Losse of the gaine to qultt what hee had
formerly wonne ; which the Prince, agreeing unto, and proving
as fortunate as hee had formerly done, the Gentleman, enraged
with greife and Choler, threw the Tables at the Princes head
in such a manner as hurt him not a Uttle, to the helpe
whereof, whilest the standers by ranne all amazed, Conor had
the Liberty to escape for that Night, it being late and darke.
But next morning, being taken and brought before the Prince,
II

146 IHS
all the Courtiers animated the Prince by a severe revenge to
make the Offender an Example of all that should dare not
onely to offer such Injuries, but even the least contempt to
them to whom they owe AUegance. The wise and noble
Cazimere, having paused a while, The punishment (sayd hee)
that his owne shame and sorrow hath inflicted on him is more
then sufficient for my wrongs and others example, and, that
cleared, I am rather Indebted to him for the double good
Lesson which hee hath taught mee. That neither are these
kind of exercizes sutable to that Imployment of mind and
time which I owe to God and you, neither is it comely for
Superiors to equall themselves by the pursuits of vaine delights
and Covetousnes with Inferiors ; which rules, though Conor
perhaps Intended not to teach mee, yet since by his flinging
the Tables at my head I have learned of him, I hold It fitt not
onely to acqultt him of all punishment and feare, but to restore
him to my favour againe, with this condition and priviledge, that
whensoever I faile in the Observance of either of these things,
hee, or any of you, may boldly doe as much to mee. Thus
having sayd, hee dismissed Conor and the Company, leaving
in all their Minds an admiration both of his wisedome and
Patience, and to us an example not onely to gather these
collections which hee did, but to prize reproofes and correc
tion of our errore at a high rate, from what affection soever
they proceed in other, and not to looke whether they bee
despitefuUy done or sayd, but whether they may not be most
beneficially applied by us to the perfecting of our vertues and
the attaynement of our Happines. And then, why should wee
not rather love them for the good they doe us then bee angry
for the evill manner they doe it in, which Is onely prejudicious
to themselves ?
Truely (sayd the Guardian) Cazimeres wisedome was
very excellent In the raising of those Conclusions which you
have mentioned. But that which of aU other takes mee, is
the Justification that hee seemes to give to Conor by the free
confession of his owne Errors. Some others, perhaps, would

IHS 147
have sayd in private, they would henceforth learne to be wiser ;
but very few there bee, especially amongst great ones, that
would have made publick acknowledgement to have done
amisse as hee did. WeU, in this open condemning his error
he justifieth himselfe more then he could have done either
by concealement or defence, and hee made a ready way for
Patience. Hee that lookes upon his own Guilt (sayd the Moderatour)
as all good and wise men ought to doe, can hardly take offence
at others wrongs to him, however great they bee, to which
purpose the Submisse hath an excellent though a short story.
Whereupon the Submisse told the Story which followeth. —
St. Gregorle the Great being much persecuted, both by
reproachfull words and sore Injuries from Mauritius the
Emperor and his Sonnes, wrott unto them in this manner :
Forasmuch as I doe dayly by my sins greivously offend God,
you shall perhaps the better please him by how much you doe
the more afflict mee, that so negUgently and unworthily serve
him. If, as St. Gregorle did, in all our calamities and greifs
wee dayly weigh what wee deserve at Gods hand, wee shall
never dare to murmure through Impatiency. How heavy
soever his hand ly on us, yet wee shall alwaies find It much
lighter in the punishment then wee deserve.
A Man can hardly think of God (sayd the Guardian) but
hee shaU find an overruling Argument to Induce him to
Patience. If wee think of his power. It Is meet wee should bee
subject to what hee appoints ; If of his Justice, wee have
deserved what wee suffer ; if of his Mercy, wee have the
assurance of reward, if we quietly endure what wee justly
suffer ; if of his wisedome, wee ought to judge, however it
appears to us, that in truth it Is best for us.
The Obedient hath a good story, In my Judgement (sayd
the Cheife), to prove and shew that this Belelfe of Gods
wisedome ordering all things to the Best, ought to overule us
not onely in greatest, but even in the least Matters and
occasions.

148 IHS
An old holy Man falUng ill, could not in many daies take
any sustenance, by which meanes growing very weake, his
faithfull Disciple that attended him earnestly besought him to
give Leave for the making of a certaine dainty kind of meat
to make triall, if happily hee could eat thereof. The old Man
agreeing thereto, the Disciple went instantly about it, and
having made ready the meat, thinking to season it with Hony,
hee mistakes the glasses, being very Hke, he poured in a good
deale of stinking Oile, which done, he brought it to the sick
man, praying him to eat ; but he upon the first tast was not
able to gett downe a bitt more, yet, loth to trouble his disciple,
he held his peace without any manner of complaint, though it
had much offended his Stomake. His Disciple, seeing him
forbeare to take any more, besought him to eat, telling him
hee must force himselfe ; and see, Father (sayeth hee), I will
eat some with you, and hee put a morsell into his Mouth ;
which hee had no sooner done but, overcome with the evill
tast and smell, hee cryed out. Oh, mee ! Father, what have I
done ? This is meat rather to poyson then to comfort you.
Alas, why did you not tell mee, that I might not have urged
you so much at least ? To which the good old Man smUlngly
made Answere, My son, let it not greive thee, neither for thine
owne error nor for my disappointment ; if it had beene Gods
will I should have eaten now of this meat hee would have so
ordered that thou shouldst not have mistaken the Oile for the
Hony, which, having done, thou and I both ought to esteeme
it to bee Gods will, and to assure our selves its come to passe
for the best as it is.
All the other Stories (sayd the Guardian) have beene of
admiration, this last for every daies use. And because wee
shall have occasion often to call for it, it shall, if you please, bee
named The Story of the Oile, which, though it was neither
sweet nor pleasant in the Meat, yet may prove in the AppUca
tion a Medicine of soveraigne Benefitt for the asswagement of
many a sore greife that often happens amongst othere upon
very Ught matters. But cannot you, deare Cheerefull,

IHS 149
all this while meet with a fitting Cue to bring in your
story ?
The Reference that my Story hath to the most of these things
which have beene hitherto spoken of (sayd the Cheerefull)
will, I doubt not, perswade you It hath not beene unfittly kept
to the last.
Agaton having by long continuance in all manner of godly
conversation gained the reputation of a Saint, certaine
strangers, desirous to prove the sincerity of his so farre
renowned Holiness, told him, that as the great report of his
Vertues had induced them to come from farre to visit him,
so the strange Accusations of many, and those no meane persons,
did much distract and perplex their minds ; for they tell
us, sayd the strangers, that out of a haughty Mind thou takest
upon thee to teach many new and unusuall Doctrines, and
that thou seemest little to regard the Authority and Reasons
that are contrary to thee, as though thy selfe wert onely wise
and good.
They affirme likewise, that thou dost presumptuously
censure divers Actions and Practizes approved by those that are
much thy betters ; yet thou art a bold and a continuall
reproover of others faults, thereby to perswade Men that thou
art an Enemy to vice. In a word, they lay to thy charge that
all thy appearing HoUnes Is but Hypocrisy, and that thou
seemest to despise worldly pleasures and to contemne wealth,
because thou canst not compasse them, or rather by a more
commodious way hast found the satisfaction of Ambition and
other evlU Affections under the pretence of reUglon then other
Men doe.
Agaton, having without any shew of distast heard them,
sighing deepely, made answere that all was true that hee was
accused of. But doe you, deare Brethren, shedding many
teares, pray God for the pardon of my sinnes, the creating of
a new and right Spirit within mee, that in heart I may bee
such as I appeare outwardly to men.
The Strangers, much edified In the evidence of his HumiUty

150 IHS
and Patience, proceeded further, saying, Some likewise teU us
that thou art an Heretick, and dost hold naughty and idolatrous
Opinions. But then Agaton cryed out aloud, God forbid.
Herein they doe mee wrong ; however wretched Man that I am,
confessing myselfe guilty of divers other Crimes, yet surely, by
the mercies of God I am cleare from the Taints of super
stition and Heresy. The good men, sorry to see him offended,
besought him to passe by that which was onely spoken to make
proofe of his vertue, and out of aboundance of charity to tell
them why hee so readily confessed those former Crimes, of
which they well saw he was not guilty, and seemed so much
troubled at the Imputation of Heresy. Hee, constrained by
their Importunity, repUed, My sons, there is indeed so much
of all those evill Affections in my heart of which you at first
laid to my charge, and though by the goodness of God they
doe not rule or sway either to do or undoe anything, but all
that I doe Is upon better grounds and to better ends, yet
because they doe forceably Intermingle themselves with my
best Actions, it is not fitt for me to deny, especially when the
Confession of my weaknes and Imperfection may more
advance Gods Glory and edify my Brethren then I should
doe by the defence of mine own Innocency, which is not mine
owne, but the Gulft and grace of God. And herein I follow
our Lord and Saviour, who did no sinne, neither was guilt
found in him, and yet notwithstanding patiently endured the
Contradiction of sinners, not answering againe when hee was
reviled, leaving us an example that wee should follow his steps.
But as for Heresy and false Belelfe in Religion, that makes an
absolute partition betweene the Soule of Man and God. I
may not, therefore, Indure the Imputation of that which cast
mee altogether from the Communion of Christ, that desir
ously undergoe all other Manner of reproaches and injuries,
that I may bee made the more Uke unto him, both in the
Conformity of a patient and humble Mind.
There is no truer proofe of a good heart then the ready
Confession of its owne Badnes, Hee that justifies himselfe for

IHS 151
the Inward knows not himselfe ; the more wee grow to per
fection the more doe wee discover our Corruptions. Hee is
in a safe and a good way thats onely bad In his owne eies ;
but he that justifies himselfe by the good Intention and dis
position of his heart when his outward Actions condemne
him, is yet in the snares of the DeviU.
This (sayd the Guardian), God bee thanked. Is happily
brought about, and the want of our Muslck have beene occa
sion of greater pleasure then I could have thought. Now It
remaines that, calling upon God, wee faithfully endeavour to
act what we have learned, and put in execution what wee
have promised, both touching our owne selves and our living
together, whilest wee doe live, cheerfully going on by
humlUty and Patience unto the perfection of Love. Thats
the end of all vertues, and the beginning of Happines. You
began but foure Sisters, and are growen to seven in this
exercize, and have brought it to a farre better passe then I
could have imagined, and yet my heart assures mee that if you
goe on adding the vertues of your second Combination, Sub
missiveness, Obedience, and Moderation, to the foure first, you
shall bring both this and aU the other great Attempts under
your hands to that height of perfection which your selves
desire, which God grant.
Love and living together, made perfect by Patience and
HumiUty, and our very Number and Neerenes, which you
speake of, bring to my remembrance a Story, as if it had beene
made to this purpose, and for us.
Let us heare it (sayd the Guardian).
A certaine holy Man named Anub, flying with his Brother
Penon and five other Companions, in the persecution of the
Sarazines, entered into a joint League to live and dy together
in a certaine commodious place that they had found. The
rest desiring Anub, as the eldest, that hee would Instruct them
how they might live peaceably together in the service of God ;
whereupon, that matter being of such consequence, Anub
desired seven daies respite to perform what they desired, And in

152 IHS
the meane space, sayth hee, let us, for the better preparing of
ourselves to rule our Tongues, forbeare all manner of speach,
but onely to God by Prayer ; to which they all agreeing,
Anub, going every morning to a certaine ruinous Temple of
the IdoUs, wherein there stood an Image of one of the
heathen Gods, did openly, in all their sights, firet every
morning revile, and after spitt upon it, and in the end, with
sticks and stones beat the IdoU, and every night kneeling
downe, bowing his body to the IdoU, hee openly asked it
forgivenes, confessing to have done it wrong. The solemne
promise of keeping silence made Anubs Companions forbeare
the appointed time, though It were as fire in their hearts. But
that being expired they came altogether upon him, and his
Brother Penon in all their Names demanded how it came to
passe that hee, being a Christian, did reverence an IdoU, and
being a Man of understanding, did every morning that which
hee professed to repent at night ; to which Anub answered.
Herein lieth the satisfaction of your desires. Neither for
my selfe or the Image have I done what you have scene, but
for your Instructions. Tell me, I pray, when I smote the IdoU,
did it shew either Anger or griefe ? No, verily, sayd Penon.
And when I bowed my selfe and craved pardon, did it swell
with Conceit of Glory, or seemed it glad ? Neither, sayd
Penon. Why, then, quoth Anub ; see wee are here, seven
of us, and if it be your desires, as you professe, that wee should
Uve in perfect concord, let this dumb IdoU bee our patterne.
Let us not be puffed up when wee receive praise and esteeme,
nor let us bee troubled at one another when wee conceive
cause of offence ; but let us carry an equall Temper in both,
being still the same to our selves, and each to others, attrib
uting the Love and honour which is given us to others
abundant goodnes, and the Injuries and unkindnesses that are
putt upon us to our own deservings. If you bee of this mind
wee shall continue unto the end encreasing in true Amity ; if
otherwise, it will bee better to part at the beginning.
The Application of this Story was at that time made with

IHS 153
silence, and not with words, which could no waies have sett
forth the Impression that it made upon the Companie, which
immediately dissolved.
And here this Book finisheth, whereof the Errors and
Defects are onely our owne. All the good Is Gods, from
whom it came ; to him bee Glorie for ever. Amen.

BOOK II

X
St. LUKE'S DAY, 1632
Resumption of the Meetings of the Little Academy — Election of
the Chief to be Mother — The would-be Bishop — Cosimo de'
Medici and Pucci Amatis.
The treble Admonition which the Name and Profession of
St. Luke, and the Collect and Hymne appointed for his
Festival seeme to give you and mee, my dearest Sistere, hath
made such an impression in my mind, and such a Commotion
in my Affections as, had it not been enjoyned before, I should
have made It my request that you would have given this
meeting for the ease of my overburdened heart, which shame
and sorrow and feare have a good while, and this day more
especially, perplexed, whilest I consider the Inestimable damage
which wee have incurred through the fond reUnquishment of
many excellent workes wee had in hand, and the Remissenes
with which we proceed in all the rest, which verily bodens
yet further Losse and greater danger, except wee seek for
timely redresse. Wee cannot keep that which wee enjoy
either for vertue or Prosperitie, except we endeavour to
encrease it. If wee stand still or goe slowly forward wee
shalbe turned back with losse, not only of the prize which wee
aime at, but even of that whereunto wee have already
attained. As the Fault which you have confessed, so the Passions
which you have expressed, worthy Cheife (sayd the Patient),
154

Mrs Collet and Child.
From the picture in the Possession 0/ Lady Lyell.

IHS 155
are common to us all. Wee are partakers of the greif and
feare, as well as of the guilt and peril ; and upon the same
ground, which it seemes so affects you, have been encouraging
one another to take occasion upon this day, wherein the
Church celebrates the remembrance of a Physitian and makes
publick supplication for the cure of all Infirmities of the soul,
to sett in hand with the redresse of ours so many and so
perilous distempere.
And some thing wee have conceived, which by Gods
assistance wee are perswaded shall prove every way beneficial
this way, if so be you draw not back through narrownes of
heart, who by your forwardnes hitherto, as well as by
Eminency in all other respects, ha^'e deserved and made good
the Name of our Cheife.
If the Issue of this Busines lie upon my seconding (sayd the
Cheife), you shall not, by Gods grace, find mee a Niggard,
both for the Love of the things themselves, and of you. I
should be ready (if it could be) to bee minted myself to make
mony, if it be mony that is requisite for the promotion of
these designes and desires of youre.
Wee are glad (sayd the Cheerefull) to have this liberal
Promise, that you wiU not stick at any cost.
Nor any paines neither, nor sufferings, nor prejudice, what
soever it may be in mine own particular, so it may be for your
and the rest of this Familie their advancement in Pletle and
Happines (sayd the Cheife). Thus I find my mind now, by
Gods grace affected, and I hope by the same grace the effects
shaU be alwaies answerable on my part.
Though it be much which you have promised, dearest
Cheife, yet it is no more then wee expected from you,
according to the many proofs which wee have ever received
from you of unparaleld Love (sayd the Affectionate).
But now, leaving the prosecution of this matter to its own
place and our return of thanks tiU the end, let us imderetand,
I pray, what that Admonition is to us which lies included in
the Name of this blessed Saint, and what should further be

iS6 IHS
appliable to us out of this Festival, then that by the mention
of a Physitian and remembrance of diseases wee should be
invited to the Consideration of our own Infirmities, and
directed to the meanes and cure.
Why, the meanes itself (sayd the Cheife) is in great part
taught us in the Name of this blessed Physitian. What
belongs to us by way of preparation wee shall find sett down
therein, and if wee follow the prescript by putting in
execution, I doubt not but the Cure shall follow speedily and
happily by the power and mercy of the great Physitian of our
souls, who never fells to perfect what hee begins in matter of
Cure, except it be through the wayward default of the
Patient. I hope his mercy (sayd the Moderatour) shall keep us
from such default ; and that wee may the sooner goe in hand
with what belongs to us, I pray you break the pitcher and let
us see the Ught which wee are not yet aware of. Let us by
the knowledge of the signification understand the mystery
that lieth hid in this Name so much to our behoof.
The Name of Luke (sayd the Cheife), as the Learned in
the Hebrew say, implies a lifting up, a rising againe, and a
rising together.
And sounds in mine eares (sayd the Guardian) as it doth
in yours, a Proclamation, or rather warning-peice from
heaven, that wee should joyntly with Love and Courage
return to the prosecution of those exceUent things from which
wee are fallen. Let us Uft up our eies to the Consideration,
our hearts to the desire, and our hands to the receiving, and
God shall fill us with the enjoyment of whatever wee pretend
unto. Let us rise againe In our hopes. In our resolutions, in
our endeavours, and God shall crown us with the performance
of all our attempts. And let us doe It together by bonds of
mutual Promise, of mutual encouragement, and of mutual
Assistance, and I hope the wished event shall follow with
speed and ease.
This fruitful! seed hath, I am sure (sayd the Moderatour),

IHS 157
made a proportionable Conception in every other of our minds,
as well as it hath in yours, worthy Guardian. But because
there is no hope that any of them should come forth of that
perfect and masculine feature as yours Is, I shall advise the
reserving of them to better opportunities, and now, in
prosecution of these happy beginnings, propount that which
I suppose, according to the right methods of Physlck, ought
first to be enquired into. That is, the searching out wherein
lies the MaUgnitie of this disease under which we languish,
and whence it doth proceed. And because I am perswaded
that the painfull sence of this Infirmitle, which the Cheife
hath made such profession of, may have made her more
seriously and thoroughly dive Into the Nature thereof, I shall.
If you think fitt. Impose this task on her.
Both In that It Is Ukely she hath most studied what she
hath been most affected with, and In that It Is certaine she is
in every other respect best able, It belongs to her alone (sayd
the Patient).
Besides (sayd the Cheerefull), by how much I doubt wee
shall have lesse of her help at last I hold It wisedome not to
spare her at the first.
And her good discharge of this matter (sayd the Affec
tionate) shall, I am perswaded, serve both for an Introduction
to her and a Confirmation to us of what Is Intended.
What Is intended I know not (sayd the Cheife), but
touching what is demanded, that I may not be of hindrance
to that which above all things I desire the promotion of, I
shall breifly tell you my opinion upon observation of that
which I find in myself, without any note of Censure how it
may be with others. I find, therefore, that the prime
diversion from good things is bred in mee through a certaine
tedlousnes of mind and slothfulnes of Body, which Instantly
ariseth assoone as I come to the quick and life of good
businesses. The beautie, the noveltie, and the honour of
excellent things give such edge and encouragement to hope
and desires as beares down all upon the first shock : but when

158 IHS
It comes to the maine battall, the paines, the patience, the
difficulties, the hazards, that like so many dreadfuU files of
pikes and shott stand in guard of vertue, and deny the prize
of worthy Actions except they be forced by Combate and
Conquest, doe so affright, as hope turns Into dispalre, and
desires into offence, and the only care Is, how to qultt the
felld with Creditt and safety by some handsome Colour of
abandoning the Enterprize.
The next disturbance .ariseth from the overmastery of self-
will, that can by no meanes like but what is of its own devise,
nor suffer the abridgement of any Uberty either in appetites
or affections, but must have its humour in the way of pro
ceeding, or the way of proceeding according to its humour,
and the intire choise in everything both for restraint and
freedome. The third Impediment comes from the want of witt and
understanding, that is not able to proportion the desires and
Indeavours answerable to the measures of Abilities, time,
circumstance, and other collateral duties. And so by an
unorderly prosecution of times not only overthrows that
particular which it cheifly intends, but breeds great distur
bance and disappointment In other necessarie duties.
The disease, questionlesse (sayd the Guardian), is right and
fully discovered ; Idlenes, Inobedience, and Indiscretion are
those three bitter fountaines, whence that distemper and
Infection flows, whereby our heads are so dazled In the
contrivement, our hearts so unrlveted In the prosecution, and
our hands so maimed in the performance of those many good
and vertuous exercizes which wee have on foot.
And the Cure is as evident (sayd the Cheife) by the
Admission of Industrie, Humllltie, and Wisedome.
True (sayd the Moderatour). But how these should bee
introduced into our minds is a matter of no small art and
difficultie. It is a point of skill and power (sayd the Cheife) only
belonging to the Father of lights, from whom cometh

IHS 159
down every good and perfect gift, such as these are ; who
gives Uberally without grudging to them that ask heartily
without fainting. Here then wee must begin.
Wee must begin, continue, and end here (sayd the
Patient), by humble, instant, and continual Invocation,
begging of God what is absolutely his grace, without any
abilitie or deserts of ours. But yet must wee not neglect to
sett our shoulders to the wheel, and to prick forward the
Teemer If wee desire indeed to gett out of the slough wherein
wee are fallen.
Indeed (sayd the Cheerefull), though health be the sole
gulft of God, yet must wee not neglect the Physitian, nor
think to obtaine it (except upon extraordinary occasion)
without use of the ordinarie meanes. Wee must therefore
cast about to find out those remedies and medicines, by the
application whereof God for the most part useth to convey
these graces Into mens souls.
Your proceedings, verily (sayd the Cheife), are right and
orderly, but because it farre passeth that which my considera
tions went upon, I shall sitt a gladsome Audltour of what
God hath put in your minds, without hope of being any ways
a usefuU Actour in your designes.
An Actour In the designe wee must needs have you (sayd
the Affectionate), and the Cheife ; but for being any part
Authour in the Contrivement wee are content to spare you
further then yourself shaU think good.
That Is all which I ment (sayd the Cheife) ; no waies the
refusal of any performance which you shall Impose on mee as
beneficial and of furtherance to the busines.
With this assurance (sayd the Guardian) wee shall goe
on with more Confidence ; and now without further losse of
time, let us, I pray, come to the Resolution of this matter,
which, consisting of three parts, I would distribute amongst
you three, that the burden may be the lighter which is born
severally, and the remedy may work more effectually with
every one whilst it is of their own prescript.

i6o IHS
Unlesse you explaine yourself, wee shaU not know how to
make answere (sayd the Patient), especially touching that
matter of burden which you intimate.
No ? (sayd the Guardian). Doth it ly so easy that you
feel it not, or doe you think because the Cheife hath taken all
upon her you remaine discharged of that treble guilt of
Idlenes, Indiscretion, and Disobedience, which she hath made
such penitent Confession of ?
Nay, verily (sayd the Cheerefull) ; but the sence and
shame of our greater faultines hath rather stopped our
mouthes, that wee have not the heart nor face to complalne
before others. Well then (sayd the Guardian), to make it
more portable, I would counsail you to divide the matter
between you, everyone taking the part which more especially
belongs to them, singling out their own error, and afterwards
setting down the remedy. The streigning of curtesle wiU
make this division run out to greater length then time allows
(sayd the ModerAtour), if you put it on them. Besides, I
feare Partialitie will cause it to be done unequally in the end;
wherefore, I pray you to doe it for them.
If it may be without offence, sayd the Guardian.
Doubt you not (sayd the Affectionate) but it shalbe
with Increase of Love to you by Gods grace, and I hope not
without benefitt to us.
Why, then (sayd the Guardian), I would assigne Idlenes
for your share ; want of wisedome, or rather of Consideration,
to the Patient.
Let it be plaine Indiscretion, replied shee.
As you please (sayd the Guardian). And for selfwlU,
which only remaines behind, that the Cheerefull may take
of herself.
Its very true (sayd shee). Nobody could put it upon me, if
I had not a mind to it my self. Othere oftimes make us idle,
and nothing more common then to be made fools by better
witts ; but selfwiU is alwaies and altogether of a mans own
choise. Well, I take it now as you meane it, and by Gods

IHS i6i
merciful assistance hope ere long to cast it oft so as nobody
shall know mee any more by this badge from amongst the
rest ; and for the better and surer accompHshment thereof
shall humbly beseech you and all others not to forbeare the
taking of that Authoritie which God hath given them over
mee, but to use and improve it to the uttermost, not leaving
mee to the bent and sway of mine own desires and Choises,
but enforcing mee to the obedience of that which is truly
good and profittable ; not seeking for peace sake to comply
with my stubborn affections and opinions, but faithfully
striving to subject them to the dictates of reason and Con
science. Whether more nobly spoken or more wisely, I cannot tell
(sayd the Cheife), but surely so as I should esteeme it more
honour and more excellencle to be your partner In the accom
plishment of these Resolutions then the cheif in taking the
strongest hold in Flanders.
Authoritie that overaws is the soveralgn medicine for
selfwiU (sayd the Affectionate), but for the correction of
Negligence and sloth nothing wiU serve but Necessitie, If not
of undergoing some penaltle, yet at least of giving an account.
Idlenes is a base disposition, that never works but of com
pulsion. To think to rouse the drowzy monster from her lazy
couch by any faire meanes, no, nor any foul neither, except it
be a whip or a scourge, you must cast him thats sick of this
scurvy upon the Pikes either of bodily suffering or shame ;
and when he begins to feel his hands and his feet, you must
be sure to keep him still in motion and action by a strict and
severe exacting of the task imposed on him. I shall therefore
for myself adde to the Cheerefulls request, that I may not be
suffered to the guidance of mine own will, so neither to the
auditing of mine own accompts ; but that they which truly
love mee would look seriously and constantiy to mee, that I
may have no opportunity for neglect or ill performance of any
of those good things that are either necessarily enjoyned or
voluntarily undertaken by me. 12

i62 IHS
It is very true (sayd the Patient) what the Affectionate
hath told you. The best minds are like Clocks, that to goe right
need dayly winding up. There be some very long, but no
perpetual motions to be found. Many grounds there be of
longer continuance in some kind of good things, but in the
end theres alwaies an abandoning of them, but where the
Necessitie of giving accompt holds forcibly. And where
this Necessitie lyeth hard there may be evidently observed
a greater progresse to be made by dull capacities then by the
most exceUent witts that can be found, if left at randome to
their own Ubertie.
You have well confirmed this point (sayd the Moderatour).
Now, I pray, lets have as good a discharge of your own part.
But then I shall not truly act mine own part (sayd the
Patient). How so (sayd the Guardian) ?
If representing Indiscretion (sayd shee), I should give a wise
Determination. Well (sayd the Guardian), however you seeme to resent
it most, yet in my opinion it is the lightest feult of the three.
I think so verily (sayd the Patient), and the easyest to
be remedied, inasmuch as good directions are more readily
obtained and more easy to be followed then such Authoritie
found as can enforce obedience upon self-will, and such
diligence as will exact accompt of Idlenes.
You have acquitted yourself and eased us (sayd the
Moderatour) in the hint which you have given to reduce
all to a short conclusion : That the likelyest meanes for
redresse of all disorders amongst us is the Establishment of
an Authoritie that may prudently direct and diligently exact
the performance of all our good undertakings.
Undoubtedly (sayd the Guardian) there Is no likelier
course. And therefore I wish it may, without further demurre,
be put In execution, taking the advantage which this approach
ing season affords, setting up a temporarie Authoritie, not for
the Exercize of misrule but for the maintenance of good order,

IHS 163
and choosing amongst our selves a Lord for this ensuing
Christmas, that it may be kept not to the satisfaction of carnal
lusts, but as it was at firet instituted, to spiritual edification in
grace and gladnes.
I know not (sayd the Cheerefull) why wee should not have
the same Ubertie for good which others have for evill.
Nor doe I see any thing to the contrary (sayd the Patient)
why wee may not attempt to bring in good things in a disguize
of mirth and JoUitie, since in their own shapes they would
hardly, if at all, gett admittance.
So it may serve to our own purpose, it little matters what
others censure (sayd the Affectionate). Wee are too ferre
already engaged to have the worlds good word, and there
fore I think it great Folly for feare or satisfaction of men to
turn back to that which may lead us on the better to God.
Wherefore I beseech you, without giving way to further
traverse of this busines, to goe immediately to the choise, not
of a Lord, but of a Lady ; for so you have resolved, and so the
constitution of our Family requires, it being the woman sex
that exceeds both in Number and faultines amongst us.
That we may not seeme to usurpe Authorite (sayd the
Moderatour), I pray let the Approbation of our Dearest
Mother be made first known to the Companie.
She hath not only out of love to us and desire of our satis
faction (sayd the Guardian), but out of her own judgement,
given both consent and approbation to this matter, and that so
much the rather, as hereby she shall have an Essay of their
Abilities and vertues whom she hath appointed to succeed her
in the government of this Family ; which yet I hope, through
Gods mercy for our joy and furtherance in faith, she shalbe
long continued the Mother and Mistresse of.
Since the present Authoritie wee are now establishing is
derived from her (sayd the Patient), mee thinks the new
Title should not any way exceed the old, nor the translate be
more large or lofty then the Original. I should counsell,
therefore, that waving this ambitious stile of Lady, wee should

i64 IHS
content ourselves for our Cheife with one of those twaine
of Mother or Mistresse which our Guardian concluded
with. Verily (sayd the Cheerefull), it would be so much the more
disproportionable to make any alteration, by how much by
a particular disposition of heaven, as I conceive, not only the
same Name by Baptlsme, but the same surname hath by
adoption befallen our Cheife. I would not, therefore, have
any difference of stile made in the Identitle of Office, where
God hath made an Identitle of Name in the distinction of
Persons, for this reason cheifly, as it seemes to mee : That
in the exercize of the same office there might be no difference
in the latter from the former, but that In affections and
actions she that succeeds might be altogether the same in this
Familie, and this Familie in love and respect to her that
succeeds, as they were to her that went before.
In this regard (sayd the Affectionate), as also that to the
virgin Estate whereof our Cheife hath made profession, there
is nothing more necessarie then Humilitie, both for Ornament
and Guard, I suppose not only this swelling stile of Lady, but
even that of Mistresse, may be better left then used, and with
more grace to the Office and satisfaction of all parties, we
shall name her Mother, which vertually includes, the Authoritie
of a Mistresse, and fully implies that which wee desire and
shall expect from our Dearest Cheife, both now and here
after, when God shall give her the full crop of Government
whereof this present Action Is the first fruits.
But will not the setting of Mother to the Mayd make
a discord in musick (sayd the Guardian) ?
In old time (sayd the Moderatour) (and I doe not think the
musltlans of this Age are better Artists) there was nothing
esteemed to make sweeter harmonic. Theres a Generation
and conception of the mind as well as of the body, and sons
and Daughters are to be begotten in Christ Jesus as well as
in the Flesh. To them, therefore, that choose barrenes of
body for more fruitfulnes of the mind, the Names of Father

IHS 165
and Mother are no lesse truly, but farre more eminently due
then to those who, by corporal pro-creation, uphold mankind.
My voice, therefore, goes with you both for the same person
and Name which you have propounded.
Why, heres an actual Choise mayd (sayd the Guardian)
before wee are aware. The Election hath outrun the
proposal. Theres no more, then, to be done but to pronounce the
Choise (sayd the Moderatour).
I have not of a long time done anything more willingly
(sayd the Guardian). By an unanimous consent of the
Electors our Cheife is elected to the place.
A faire place, but so full of danger, as in wisedome it cannot
be accepted, and in Love it cannot be enforced (sayd the
Cheife), in proof whereof lie tell you a Storle, which you
should long agoe have heard If opportunitie had served. But
lie say it was kept for an happy houre if it serve to prevent
this Error and unkindnes which is now in hand. I am in
good hope it will doe no lesse, if it make but half the
Impression in you which it hath done In me. —
A yong man of great excellencle for Learning and
Integritie of Life, being thrust upon a Blshopprick by his
Freinds, desired respite before he accepted it to consult with
an Unkle of his that had Hved long in the desert and was full
of the Holy Ghost. The old man willed him to gett upon
a great round globe that was sett up very high from the Earth,
and thereon to bestirre himself, vaulting and tumbling ; which
he had scarce begun to doe, when, with a great perplexltie,
he cried out, I shall fall. Come down then (sayd the old
man), and act here upon the ground what thou canst not doe
upon the globe. The other did so till he was overcome with
sweat and wearines. Now rise (sayd the old man) and doe
in this matter of the Blshopprick what thou thinkest best.
The yong man, instructed by this Example of the great perril
that attends great places, renounced the Blshopprick and gave
himself to serve God with Humilitie and quietnes. The

i66 IHS
ambitious spirits of this world (sayth the Reporter of this
storle, and that is sayd to be St. Hierome) might perhaps put
off the matter with a scoff, as though melancholy and Age had
made the goodman dote, but that it was confirmed by miracle.
For it is certain (sayth he) that the yong man, shortly after his
death, appeared to the old man, first giving him thanks, and
then telling him, I had now been amongst the damned in the
Hell if I had been of the Number of Bishops on Earth.
But your acceptance and Exercise of the Intended Charges
which God hath called you unto, shall, I doubt not, by his
grace (sayd the Patient) prove to advancement of your glorie
in Heaven, whilest it shall prove to the advancement of others
good in this world.
It may be (sayd the Guardian) the yong man was not so
well qualified as you make him.
The Expression of his worth, indeed, is an addition of mine
(sayd the Cheife), but no falsification of the truth. The whole
frame of the storv doth necessarily Imply as much.
And when I shall have occasion I shall make no scruple
(sayd the Guardian) to recompt it as you have done. But
since you stand so much upon the force of this Example, are
you content to stand to the resolution that is made by the
selfsame Authour that hath furnished you with this story ?
Your demurre in so easy a question make us think (sayd
the Moderatour) that you know some better answere then
we are aware of.
When time serves, I doubt not but wee shall likewise find
it (sayd the Guardian).
But if neither Equitle nor Compassion move you, let your
own interest prevail (sayd the Cheife), and be not less judicious
then the Fox, that cast away the marble head that he found
In the Statuaries shop, saying. However faire and lively thou
seemest, yet, wanting brains, thou art a head of no worth at all.
That want of wisedome should cause miscarriage we have
no doubt at all, except through your own wiUing defeult
(sayd the Cheerefull), The supply of what is requisite is so

IHS 1^7
neere and plentifully at hand. Heare my storle, and there
shalbe no place left for exception.
The great Cosimo de Medicis, of whom we have heard so
much, sent one to perswade Charles Puccl (It matters not
whether I hltt the right Name) to stand for the place of Gon-
fuUonler, the supreme magistrate of the Florentine Common
wealth, promising his Assistance to the uttermost, both for
Puccls obtaining and exercising the same. The times being
troublesome, the motion was rejected by Puccl, and many
reasons alledged on his part. At last all are taken away save
that of Insufficiencie in wisdome, which Pucci, a modest man,
stood firmly to. Why, this of aU the rest (sayd the other) needs
least of all to be insisted upon. Would you accept the place if
you had as much witt and understanding as Cosimo hath ? If
but as much as in his little finger I would make no scruple,
sayd Pucci. Why, then, replied the other, when you are In the
place, govern yourself altogether according to Cosimos
directions, and then you shaU not only have all his but your
own boote, and the busines cannot but be well arranged.
There needs no application (sayd the Guardian).
I understand your meaning fully (sayd the Chiefe), and with
all that, though there may be this way a supply of wisdome, yet
even thereby will follow a diminution of Authoritie, which never
Is respectable Indeed but when it is joyned with sufficiency in
the same person. And this defect of Authoritie, which you
sett down for such a maine point, I am sure passeth salving.
The Issue will be the same as was between the frogs and the
block. At the first tumbling down thereof Into the water the
frogs were much affected with feare and reverence. But when
they saw by the lying still that it was but a block, they gete
upon it, dancing and sporting themselves.
You doubt (sayd the Affectionate) we shaU not give that
obedience and respect which we ought ?
Equalltle of Condition, Evidencie of weaknes, and Excesse of
former Errors forbid, as well the exacting on one part as the
giving of honour and obedience on the other, sayd the Cheife.

i68 IHS
Heare my storle (sayd the Affectionate) and doubt not of
the like Event.
When Amatis had by his vertue gotten the Crown ot
Egypt, finding that the meannesse of his original Condition
made the people lesse respectful to him then they were
accustomed to be towards former Kings, hee caused certaine
golden vessels which had been used in the court to such
homely uses as are not to be named, to be molten down, and
of them made an Image, which he caused to be sett up in the
most eminent place of the Citty. The beautie of the Idol
drawing great concourse of worshippers, Amatis one day
caused proclamation to be made. That since the basenes of
the services which the gold had been formerly imployed about
did not prejudice the Idol in their opinion, but they did as
religiously adore it as any of the other Gods, they ought not,
upon the remembrance of any forepast matters belonging to his
private Condition, to derogate from that obedience and Honour
which was due from them to his royal Estate.
I am overmatched, I see, both in power and policie (sayd the
Cheife) ; but look to it weU that you repent not when it is too
late, as the unwary horse did after he had took the bridle in
his mouth and let the saddle be put on his back.
Why, this adds Edge to our desires and Confirmation to our
hopes (sayd the Cheerefull). These threats rather quicken
then terrify our resolutions. Such a leader wee wish for that
meanes not to goe but to run, that thinks not of creeping on
the ground but of mounting up to heaven, that dare leave the
shore and put out Into the deep and charge boldly upon the
very trenches of vice and folly. Wee have made no league
with sin, albeit too often through error and weaknes we are
overtaken and entangled by It. And though wee cannot with
so much ease as you may, yet with no lesse desire, by GoDS
grace shall wee foUow after that which is excellent in every
kind. Your virgin Estate serves better then Wedlock to the
attainment of Perfection, but doth not more necessarily require
it. Wee would not, with the world to boote, take husbands, to

IHS 169
have lesse Interest in God by that means. Its the hope of
better serving God and the firmer unitiment unto him that
inclines our Judgements to the married condition. Wee have
made up the accompt, and find it cleare that theres no
gaine of worldly comforts to be gott by marriage, except it be
to them who look no higher then the Earth nor further then
this Life. As for those who aspire unto heaven and Intend
the pleasing of God, Its plaine the burden and the difficulties
are encreased. Let us argue the matter without partialitie,
and you must needs allow us not willingly to allow you to goe
one foot before us. lie put the Instance In some particulars.
If Temperance be necessary to the Virgin It Is doubly necessary
to the married woman, who hath the charge of two bodies, her
own and her childs, and therefore any error committed by her
in this kind is double to that of the virgins. If the virgin
overthrow her health, she beares the punishment herself. But
what recompence can the Mother give, or what amends can
she make, that through her disorder hath either marred the
constitution or bred some incurable Infirmitle, so that the
child through her default becomes lesse sound for the body or
lesse perfect for the mind, that part, I meane, which followeth
the temper ot the body ? As for Industrie . . .
Nay, deare Cheerefull (sayd the Affectionate), engrosse
not all, I pray. Let mee have my share as well in the profession
as in the confirmation of these matters. Its the first step to
vertue to meane well, and the next to say well, I pray
deprive mee not therefore of this benefitt, that by the obligation
of my mouth, as well as by the purpose of my heart, I may be
the more firmely engaged to the performance of what I now
think and acknowledge to be right. Let me see, you are upon
Industry. Thats my Cue, you know, more properly then any
other to come upon. For Industry, therefore, worthy
Cheife, take what part you please for yourself, and you shall
see a double share belongs to us that are by you and our
other friends designed for wives. If you must rise at midnight
to keep your mind in frame, your soul in health, wee that have

170 IHS
soules too and the care of a house besides, may not think of
lying much longer as I suppose. I am sure it is the married
womans Candle that is sett up for the watch in the Proverb.
If you may not be idle, no not the turning on one hand, for
doubt of falling into the enemies snares, how much doth
continual Imployment belong to the married woman in the
midst of so many dangers and hazards ? What think you, that
Envy, Pride, vanitee, wrath, malice, and all other fleshly lusts
and desires stand In awe of an husband, or can at pleasure be
shutt out of dores by a woman assoone as she becomes Mistress
ofthe house ? There Is but one and the same way of Preven
tion, that is, by giving both mind and body their hands fuU of
work, that they shall have no leasure for the entertainment of
such bad guests. Palnfulnes, then, and paines taking are in this
respect the married womans guarde as well as the maydens ; but
when, over and above the care of the Estate and guidance of the
house, burdens which a single life are free of are added to the
wife, it must needs be yeelded that she shall not be able to goe
through without a double portion of Industry at the least to
that which Is requisite for a virgin. As for the encrease of
wisedome and exercize of Humilitie, which you are so much in
love with, I pray give us leave to be partners with you and
bring Into stock no lesse for matter of desire and endeavour
after them then you do. If Gods word must lie alwaies
between your breast, to guide, to guarde, to glad the mind and
heart, how shall not wee be allowed much more covetously to
make provision in this kind, that are to venture upon a much
more perrilous and troublesome way then that which ye have
chosen ? What ever you task us therefore in this kind shall
be double kindnes as well in our acceptation as in your inten
tion. As for Humilitie, it is the pale and rampier of maydens
vertue, but it is the principal of all the wifely graces and
the proof of all the rest. You can pretend to nothing, I am
sure, in this matter for yourself but will be short of that which
belongs to us if ever wee become wives.
You meane to exceed (sayd the Cheife), and I pray God

IHS 171
you may. To doe my best myself and to be passed by you is
double gaine to mee. I should have rose from this seat the
gladsomest woman alive for these last discourses of yours, if I
had not been too unpardonably prejudiced by your former.
You love mee not so well as I doe you, that no more regard
my welfare then to thrust mee upon such a precipice. Let
mee tell you another storle. If perhaps that may move you,
Lamon. . . .
Spare your story (sayd the Guardian), both of Lamon and
of Ammon and of Goar : how one cutt off his eares to make
him incapable, and the two other by sicknes and death gott
dispensations from God for the Bishoppricks which men
enforced on them. Well, suppose they did well, because they
were holy men, and God directed them unto It for the terror
of presumptuous Intrudere, and not for the disheartning of
them which are lawfully called and sufficiently enabled to the
discharge of Offices and Dignities. And do you resolve, I
pray, to submitt yourself to the Determination of the Authour
whence you have derived these stories ? His Conclusion In the
same place shall be mine. The inference of all these examples
(sayth he) is, that no man should seek for dignities, that he
may not loose his Humilitie ; that when they are imposed he
should unwillingly accept them, that he neither run upon
arrogance nor depart from obedience. Let him refuse as long
as he well may, but let him not be obstinate, to the offence of
good pereons or the prejudice of good businesses, for it is no
lesse pride to resist the just commandments of superiors then
unjustly to seek for superloritie. He that takes honour to
himself usurps upon God. He that refuseth, when God puts
it upon him, rebells against God. You see by your own
Doctors (for to this purpose I am sure It is what you shall
find there sett down) that the perril is as great in denial as you
imagine it to be in accepting. In the one is a certaine fault,
in the other an uncertaine dammage. Doe, therefore, that which
belongs to you, making answere not by words, but by obedience
and submission.

172 IHS
Let not your feare trouble you ; that it is which secures us ;
that keeping yourself in this disposition you will exercize your
charge humbly, and then, without doubt, happily to yourself
and us. Which God grant, making this dales work prove to
his Glorie '

XI
ALL SAINTS' DAY, 1632
Gifts presented to the Chief- — Simeon, Bishop of Selencia and
Usthazanes — Tarbota, sister to Simeon — Lais — Martinian
— Nonnus.
Cheife. The welghtlnes of the Busines, which still
appeares the more, the more I consider of it, makes mee now
as unable to say anything upon my entrance Into this place as
I was of late upon your choyse of mee unto It. Confusion of
thoughts then stopped my mouth, but now the Orderlines
of Consideration hath confounded my understanding whilest
going from point to point. I find nothing but disproportions
in every part of this Composition. Theres too much
./Equalltle between your personal worth and mine, too much
difference between my AbiUties and the thing you have put
upon mee. I cannot reach the Alt, nor you fall to the Base.
This cannot but breed a jarre. Nor can the discord of time
be salved In your Imposing this government on mee so much
before the time. Stay till Necessitie enforce (and God grant
that may be many yeares) and till Experience have seasoned
mee for this place. If It must needs be mine. This Anticipation
marres the consort. Many sufferings and much danger on all
sides appeare In the pursulte of this Action, and little benefitt
that I can see. Will not this hazard a giving over before wee
come to an end ? 173

174 IHS
Patient. Wee see not those terrors which affright you,
and you belike see not those hopes which encourage us.
Partial Consideration of yourself, worthy Mother, hath
undoubtedly bred your mistake, especially in this latter point :
whilest you terme the benefitt little wee apprehend greater then
wee can possibly expresse. You shall see it in the end, and
with Joy, I doubt not, give God thanks for making you his
Instrument of much better and more abundant good then you
can believe.
Cheife. My unworthiness, which you know not or,
makes mee feare the Issue of what you promise.
Guard. Your feare is a fault. In things of your own
choyse you shall doe well to looke upon yourself, and to
measure out your hopes, and make your Confidence according
to the scantling of your Abilities. But when God calls,
though it be to never so great matters, wee must looke to his
power, and remember that it is perfected in weaknes. The
opportunitie that is now fallen, when wee least expected, and
after that manner which wee could not have Imagined, to make
those settlements In body, mind, and Estate which belong to
us In wisedome, and whereunto indeed Necessitie presseth us,
makes us to beleive that the matter comes from God. Wee
have, therefore, layd hold on the occasion, and layd on you the
burden which, by joint desire of all, and by especial Injunction
of them who have Authoritie, you are to take up. You have
a good warrant, you see, to perswade you its Gods ordinance,
and therefore you ought to have a good hope both touching
the performance and the successe. I cannot think but wee
must bee at some cost as well of paines as perril ; but nothing
like to the gaine which will follow for true profitt and
pleasure. The excellencle of the thing wee aime at makes mee
looke for opposition to speake plainly on all sides ; but the
mercy of God, to speake as freely, makes mee confident of the
Victorle. Through God shallwee do great Acts, and in his Name
shall wee tread down our Enemies. Goe on, therefore, with good
cheare, and leave us to make answere, if any ask the question

IHS 175
why wee have made your honour and Authoritie to outrun
your Age and the common expectation of the world. Wee
have reason In store to satisfy all indifferent minds, though it
be not fitt to alledge It in your own presence, least wee should
hazard the losse of that humilitie wherein your own safetle
and the good discharge of this Office cheifly Ues. Keep that
Intire and undefiled from presumption before, and boasting
after things well done, and doubt not but Gods Grace shall
make supply of all other sufficiency that Is requisite for you;
whether It be of wisedome or of Authoritie there shall be no
lack. If you put the allowances which the Cheerefull and the
Affectionate have provided, you shall find the ballance even
and wee shall find the peice good to the full value of that kind
of soveraigne that it ought. Wherefore, laying aside all feares
and care touching these matters, goe on, I pray, to the work
of this day, firet accepting those presents which are now
offered you in testimony of Love and Honour, and towards
the furtherance and perfection of the busines itself, and
then making entrance into the performance of your charge by
establishing the course that is to bee held In our storying.
For that at least wee desire may by this meeting be settled,
as being, if not the prime for worth or benefitt to oureelves,
vet undoubtedly the most delightfull and most desired of all
our other designes by the generaltle of our Family. I wish,
therefore, that as wee intend their good in all things, so we
may give you satisfaction in this.
Cheife. What your designes be, I know not ; but for
stories, which you so long after, my Resolution is, if you
continue mee in the place, to make them serve for Christmas
Cheare. You may casheere mee, if you please, but If you
hold mee in, you must give mee leave to govern, as belongs to
my profession. It must bee a very sober table that a virgin
sitts at the head of, and simple cakes that are of her providing.
Cheer. Or els she shall make a foul soleclsme. Chastltie
no waies agrees either with fulnes or dainties ; and though she

176 IHS
keep within the verge of Temperance her self, yet if she
occasion others breaking out, the soveraigne court of starre-
chamber wiU find her guilty of riot.
Cheife. Give mee leave to klsse those Ups that have
pleaded my cause so wisely.
Cheer. Theres no doubt, then, but my Law will gett
passage when it comes to the question.
Guard. Keep your Law till time serve. And now lett us
goe to the tender of your presents, which will make way, as
I suppose, to your desires In this and all other respects.
Cheife. True ; for when you have put out mine eies you
may leade mee where you list.
Guard. You think wee meane to Wind you with our
Guifts ?
Cheife. I am sure I shall loose not only my Authoritie but
my Llbertle, if I take them. Hee that thrusts a bone into a
dogs mouth stops it from barking ; and though you intend it
not now, perhaps, yet you shall alwaies find it so: That he
that takes a guift cannot by no meanes give reproof. No, nor
good counsel neither. If you corrupt mee In the beginning I
shall deceive you in the end. Let mee be free, if you meane
to have me for an equal — how much more a superior ? If you
subject me with beholdingnes, how shaU I be over you with
confidence ?
Guard. Your feares Ught altogether wide of our purpose.
Its the promotion of the busines which wee aime at, not the
prejudice of your Authoritie. Wrong us not, therefore,
doubly in your suspicions and in your refusal of that which
wee offer in acknowledgement ot Superloritie, in pledge of
Love. Cheife. If it be so indeed, Phocions Answere to Alexandere
Messengers, when they pressed him to receive what their
Master had sent, wlU direct mee and satisfy you. Alexander
hath done kingly (sayd hee) in sending ; Phocion must doe
wisely In not accepting. Each ought to be aUowed the Exer
cize of his own vertue. Carry back the gifts with the prayse

IHS 177
of his bounty, and leave mee with the peace of my freedome
and the prize of my Integritie. You say he bestows this upon
mee rather then othere for that honestle which he conceives in
mee above my fellow clttlzens. Let him not hazard to corrupt
that which he professeth to Love. Let mee proportionably
apply it, and it will, I hope, end the Contraversle. I accept
your curtesy, I acknowledge your Love ; but, I beseech, keep
your gifts, that I may keep my Freedome and Fldelitle to you,
I, and to others too ; for I cannot forgett, I am sure, how I
am bound by expresse promise heretofore, as well as by the
Necessitie and decorum of the place which you have now
put upon mee, not to take any gifts.
Affect. Not without Allowance, you meane, and there
fore wee have provided that there may be no violating of your
faith. See you there not only a dispensation, but an Injunction !
Cheife. You might have brought it out at first, and saved
all these words.
Cheer. Wee had, then, lost much by the bargaine.
Theres never a word but deserves remembrance, and more
too. And though what you have pleaded semes not now
to your purpose, I hope it shall to ours, making us more wary
in receiving, if not altogether so absolute In refusing of gifts
as you are. Lets heare. If you please, what your paper
sayth. Cheife. Its fitt you should receive the gifts ; but withall
exact of every one Instructions how they are to be used and
ordered. Its lesse fitte now then before. Theres a double
Incongrultle, In my Judgement, in taking of guifts to my pro
fession of Virginity, as well as to my office.
Patient. Youl refuse the warrant then ?
Cheife. Oh, no, however I understand not the latter
part and like not the first ; yet, in endeavouring to performe
both, Ile prove myself the Daughter of Obedience.
Cheer. And ever may you be so. Its a greater title, and
that which I more envy than that of Mother, which wee
have put upon you. 13

178 IHS
Affect. Undoubtedly this last honour is but the Daughter
of that first Exercise.
Cheife. Obedience hath been alwaies, I must confesse,
both full of safety and advantage unto mee ; and, therefore,
I now feare the lesse, although I cannot but feare, considering
mine owne weaknes and the force of gifts for perverting
of Judgement and corrupting of Affections.
Patient. The very outside of my Present will dissolve
all those Jealousies, which therefore comes as opportunely
in the first place In regard of you as it doth deservedly in
respect of itself, there being nothing under heaven that can
challenge the precedencle of It, either for excellencle or for
Beneficialnes. The purest gold of the earth Is but drosse, the
ravishing pleasures of the flesh are but dung, the most tran
scendent honours of the world are but Infamy In regard of
these riches, those delights, that glory which this Book
encloseth, offers, and leads unto.
Cheife. What, a Bible ?
Patient. The everlasting word of God, the fountaine
of wisdome, the Treasure of Vertue, the Wellspring of
Happines. Cheife. It is of a thousand times more worth, more honour,
and more comfort then the tongues of Angels, much lesse
yours and mine, are able to expresse, dearest Patient.
Let us with silence, therefore, rather admire then with words
goe about to sett forth that which Is unutterable, the Inestim
able value of this holy Book, which I take from your hands
with Reverence, with joy, with thanks to the infinite Good
nes of God that hath bestowed it on us. I salute it with a
kisse in token of Love, and put it on my head in signe of
Honour, and lay it up in my bosome as an incomparable
treasure. I have applied the letter without ; doe thou, O
my God, apply the spirit of this thy Book within, that the
light, life, power, and joy thereof may be imprinted on aU the
faculties and members both of the outward and the Inward
man. That by Beleif, Confession, and continual meditation

IHS 179
of those wonderfuU things therein contained my soul, my
Body, by Spirit, my whole man may be sanctified throughout
with grace In this Life, and sealed up to the assurance of Glory
In Life eternal. Say Amen, sweet Jesus, to the supplication
of thy Handmayd. Amen, Amen.
Guard. The Lord Jesus say Amen by enabling you to
the accompUshment, which he only can doe, as Lord and
Master. Wee as partners and fellow labourers with you say
Amen by way of Petition, that you may have your hearts
desire, and wee the hearts to desire and the happines to attaine
what you have desired. And now prepare yourself for the
entertainment of your next present, which, by your honoured
Mother, our worthy Moderatour, Is Intended you.
Cheife. Both these Titles assure mee of a worthy gift, and
fitting for mee for the present occasion.
MoDERAT. I may not commend the gift, because It Is so
much mine, and I cannot tell whether I may properly terme It
a gift or no, because It is already so much yours. But sutable
It is every way, being altogether a motherly present. It is by
a mothers right that I bestow it, and it is a Mothers Right
that I bestow, that you may truly be Invested In the realtie of
Motherhood in particular, as well as In name and generalty
thereof. I give you these now for children, whom I brought
forth. Brethren and sisters to you at the first, that their
benefitt may be doubled by your supply of what my Abilities
reach not unto. I am content to part with you not my title
only, but my Interest In them. They shalbe henceforth yours
as they are mine. Are mine, I say ; for I lessen not my
proprietie, but rather double It In thus multiplying the
Motherhood to them. They are become twlse, nay, thrise,
mine hy this meanes. They are now my gift, and my grand
children too, more then they were before. The enlargement
of this Relation hath knitt the band the faster and the
streighter. My affections are encreased towards them, In that
they are become yours, the first of my Loves In this kind.
My care is augmented for them, in that your comfort, the

i8o IHS
greatest of my Comforts, is now engaged in and upon them.
I intimate not this tendernes, this solicitousnes, to stirre up
yours. I know you will be to them in heart no lesse then I
desire ; in Actions much more then any can expect. But I
make this declaration of the Intention of my Love to you, and
of the unseparablenes of my Comfort from you, the rather to
perswade these my children how you, as by all manner of well
doing, so In particular by the abundance of respect. Love, and
faithfull service all their Lives long towards you, to endeavour
the returne of those benefitts which they receive from you.
So answering their obligation they shall accomplish duty to
mee, and in the encrease of your Comforts double the ground
of my blessing upon them. As on the contrary in causing
you greif they should double their offence against mee, not
only in regard that I shall alwaies be afflicted in your sorrow
and wounded In your sufferings, but because I shaU esteeme
my self the cause. In having been the occasion, by this present
action, in giving you prejudicial gifts. But I hope the best,
and that my giving to you now shall prove as happy as my
giving of you did to your Grandmother. The happy returne
of that adventure with so much comfort Into my Bosome
makes mee confident, through Gods mercies, that this shall
likewise be successfuU.
Guard. Its a good President, and well alledged for both
parts. You have encouragement therein, and she direction.
She hath a patterne of good performance, and you a proof of
good speed in this Example. And, besides, the remembrance
of her own Condition become so flourishing by Adoption
ought the rather to perswade her with joy and hope to the
exercize of the Uke vertue in her setfes benefitt to others. And
so doing she shall indeed shew pietie at home and requite her
Parents in specie, as Merchants speak, when the payment is
made in the self-same Coine. For this matter serves not only
to the purchase of a double blessing from you and her Fathers
house, but to a full repayment of that which she owes to us
and our Family, where into she hath been transplanted. For

IHS i8i
I dare undertake on these termes to procure from the rest,
whom it imports, as I now offer from my self, a formal
acquittance and release of all claimes and demands whatever,
that wee may have against her for the nourishment and
portion that she hath divided with us. If she shall faithfully
discharge what you and wee require. For however you made
a more particular and full consignation of three of your own for
her Children, yet the extent of her motherhood Is no wales to
be confined In those bounds, but must enlarge it self to the
generalty of this whole Family, and In particular to my three,
whom I likewise now sett over to her Motherhood, though not
for cost, yet for care, though not for provision of maintenance,
nor portions of Marriage and Inheritance, yet for furtherance
of Education in their youth, for direction and government in
their riper yeares, for faithfull Assistance and Counsel all their
Lives long, tor the performance of these, and these are the best
parts of Motherhood. I now entreat her by what is deare
unto her, and I enjoyne them, in requital, to answerable
obedience and duty by the uttermost of that Authoritie which
I have over them.
Patient. For the suiting of things the better, give me
leave, by the presentment of a seventh, to make the gift more
complete and proportionable. For seven, as it hath been
generally above all others held the Number of perfection, so by
the Pythagoreans, the great Masters in this Science, It was, as I
have heard, more peculiarly attributed to Virglnltie. It is,
therefore, In both regards most fitt to this present. This your
motherly travail tending not to life of body, but to perfection
of mind, and the birth of these children being a fruit, not of
your wombe, but of your Virglnltie.
Cheerf. Wee have an equal part with you, deare
Patient, in both the Mothers of this little one. And there
fore, I pray, let us have likewise a part with you in the
transaction, which I hope shall be comfortable to them both.
The gulft being yours, the Livery and ceizen shalbe mine.
And that it may be every way answerable, I consigne her to

i82 IHS
you, not by the Name of her Familie whence she springs, but
of her Vertue which she is to pursue. That, I am sure, will
more recommend her to your Love then her Bloud, and she
shall be more yours by being indeed the Humble then your
Neice. Affectionate. If she degenerate not from the stock,
theres hope sheel make good this and all other the best hopes
that wee can have. What Modestie hath forbid in the rest.
Justice requires to be performed In this last gift, that it should
not passe without a recommendation of the givers worth, which
truly is such as would adde prize to that which were of no
prize in it self ; how much more, then, when it is of the most
soveraigne value that may be.
Cheife. The Excellency of the value beyond posslbilltle ot
Esteeme of this sevenfold present, and the Admirablenes of the
manner which you have used In bestowing it, hath carryed mee
out of my self through wonderment. You must, therefore,
give mee a longer time to recollect my self, before I can give
any further answere then that, as I may not refuse, so neither
know I how to accept such Love, such honour, and such
bounty as you have expressed towards mee, beyond not only all
desert, but all Capabilitie on my part of being answerable
thereunto, If so be I know myself.
Cheeref. You say well If It were youre owne, or your
present strength that Is to carry out the busines ; but since,
however great the want Is In your self, there Is abundance in
God of what you most want, and excesse of bounty in him
readily to bestow as much as you need, if it bee sought as it
should bee, I have no doubt at all of your going through in
everything to the joynt promotion of your own and our
Happines. And in confirmation of these good hopes, and to
the furtherance of their accomplishments, I make tender to
you of this speaking present, which loudly and plainly tells
how you may attain those abilities which are requisite for your
Dignitle, and how you may preserve your humilitie, which is
necessary to your person and condition, that so you may not

IHS 183
loose your self in benefitting others, nor run the hazard of
damnation in being exalted through the happines of well
doing. Cheife. But that I see no engravement, and your words
sound otherwise, I should have Interpreted your meaning to be
the old Inscription of Bells, Fear God and Honour the
King. But this, however It be good. Is no wales proper to
this Busines. Oh, now I have found it : — The Bell touls to
prayers, and rings out for the dead. You would have mee
alwaies to remember the last, and to be continually exercized
in the first. And so I confesse neither Error before, not pride
afterward, can hardly breed any Inconveniency to weU-doing.
Affectio. The continual Exercize of Prayer, which
you are Invited unto ; the constant meditation of holy Scriptures,
which you have promised, and the carefull Education of so
many children as have been now given you, are three things
that, the day being too short, you will alwaies be enforced to
borrow of the Night, and oftimes, I suppose, to Imploy it
altogether In waking thoughts for the better performance of
these businesses. In this regard, therefore, doe I here make
tender, worthy Mother, of a needfull Instrument to this
purpose. Cheife. It is Vigilancy, I perceive, that you exhort mee
unto. And that I may the more willingly sett about It, not
only by compulsion of Necessitie, but by enamorment of
Affections, I must desire you to light and sett up this Candle,
which you have given mee, by giving mee a remonstrance of
the beauty and beneficialnes of watching and watchfulnes,
a vertue which, however, through the darknes of the Night,
wherewith shee goes alwaies veiled, is commonly taken by the
dreaming world for a Bugbeare, yet Is In truth the joynt
Testimony of all that have been admitted to the discovery of
her face, approved to be farre away the fairest and most lovely
of all other corporal exercises and perfections whatsoever.
Take againe, therefore, your present, sweet Affctionate, till
you have thus fitted it, and then with double thanks will I

184 IHS
receive, and by Gods Assistance hope to put in execution, your
good Counsel. And you, beloved Cheerefull, must shew mee
the use of your Bell, both touching that which belongs to the
Church and that which belongs to the Grave, ringing out a
double peale by the relation of that which you find most
observable In the death and In the Devotions of the great
Personages of this Age. And you, dearest Patient, though
I keep your gift, for I cannot be content to part with it, no
not for a moment, yet I must desire you to unclasp It for my
easier use by reading mee a lecture how I ought to read and
meditate therein. The Uke favour I most humbly beseech of
you, most honoured Mother, that you would to the gift of
your Children adde the Rule of Education, that I may the
better, by Gods help, performe the Mothershlp which you have
imposed on mee. And this I think that task which the
second clause of my warrant enjoyned mee to Impose on you.
Guard. It can hardly be better, and therefore I suppose
the meaning is as you have made it. And now, since wee are
to looke for no more touching this first point, let us passe on
to the second ; I meane the setting down what order you will
have observed in this matter of Storying.
MoDERAT. Let us make a tryal first, if you think good,
before wee come to any settled determination. Matters of
this nature usually come forth much otherwise in the per
formance then in the designe. Besides, It wUl not be amisse
to see how the tongues and memories of the Actours serve
before you give them their parts. Disuse is of great prejudice
not only to the easines, but to the Abilitie of doing aU things.
Let this day, therefore, if you please, be for proof, and every
one left to their own Liberty, so they keep themselves within
the bounds of the Day, their Stories tending to make us
of the number of those blessed Saints whose joynt and common
Feast wee now celebrate.
Cheife. What you have propounded cannot be bettered. I
desire, therefore, it may be accordingly performed, and that
vou, dearest Patient, would make the entrance.

IHS 185
Patient. To flee trom EvlU Is the beginning of goodnes,
and the first step to become a saint is made by leaving to bee
a sinner. He that would be of their Communion must be of
their Qualitie — holy as they are holy. He that commltts sin
cutts himself off from their Fellowship, and not only looses
their Love, but makes them turn his enemies. They are all
against him with Indignation that continues not with them In
hoUnes. If this were rightly weighed. It would prove a great
restraint of sin and work the same effect in us at it did in
Usthazanes, whom the angry frown and upbraidlngs of one
poore Saint as he was lead fettered to the prison, brought to
that sence of his misery, as to redeeme his sin he was content
to lay down his Hfe, which, how it happened, I shaU teU you.
Sapores, the great Persian King, being Incensed against
the Christians of his Dominions by the calumniating accusa
tions of the Jews and Magitians, by whose counsels his state
and Actions were cheifly guided and ordered, began first to
lay heavy taxes and mulcts on them, to their utter Impoverish
ment, tauntingly affirming that, accordingly to their Law,
they ought to submitt to whatever was imposed on them, and
willingly to embrace spiritual poverty. And because he aimed
not so much at his own game as their perdition, he gave the
execution of this busines to barbarous minded persons, who
added a thousand other kinds of torments to their cruel
exactions, that so by the excesse of Intolerable sufferings and
oppressions on all hands, they might drive them to the denial
of that holy profession which was become so costly and
damageable unto them. But when, by the mercy of God
strengthening his elect people, this course served not to the
end that he entended, but rather to the contrary, they growing
more zealous and stout in the preservation of their faith upon
the losse of their goods, and their Affections, like a mighty fire
checked with a little dash of water, breaking out more inflamed
towards heaven by the sence of their present miseries; he
proceeds to the appUcation of more forceable Engines, thinking
to quench that with bloud which he could not stifle with

i86 IHS
oppression, and wills that the Preists and Churchmen should
be put to the sword, their Temples demolished, and their
treasures and muniments confiscated. Amongst the first that
were apprehended was Simeon, Bishop of Seleucia, eminent
amongst the Christians for his dignitle and admirable holines
of Life even In the eies of the unbeleivers. Having, therefore,
no open crime to charge him with according to Law, they
object suspicions of privy conspiracy against the State. They
accuse him of holding correspondence with the Romane
Emperors, and plotting with them the overthrow of the
Persian Kingdome and Religion, Upon these pretences they
bring him, loaden with chaines, unto the presence of Sapores,
who furiously commands they should proceed In examination
of him with tortures. The valiant Simeon, behaving him
manfully and carelessely, without any shew of feare for the
punishment that was threatened, or any signe of Reverence to
the King as was expected, Sapores, with much passion, demands
of him how It came to passe that he worshipped him not now,
as he had formerly wont to doe. The difference of the cause,
oh King, sayd hee, makes this difference in my proceedings.
At other times I came not to that Intent for which I am now
brought before thee, that Is, to commit Treason against God,
and therefore I then gave thee that honour which was due to
thee as a king, but now I refraine from it, that I may the
better preserve that honour which is due to the cause. For
Gods cause I bowed down to thee as his Vicegerent on earth,
but now that thou requirest I should bow down to Creatures,
as to God, thou shalt have no Reverence at all from mee, least
it should be interpreted to be any way done in Obedience to
thy unjust command, or in derogation of that just worship
which is due to God alone. Well, let that passe, sayd the
king. If thou wilt not worship mee because I am a man,
worship that glorious sun which shines into thine eies, the
fountaine of light, and the well spring of all those benefitts
and comforts which men enjoy in this world. I worship,
answered Simeon, the Sun of Righteousnes, Christ Jesus,

IHS 187
from whom this Sun, which thou so magnlfiest, receives both
light and glory, and from whose Invisible vertue and power all
those blessed Influences which thou attrlbutest to this visible
sun doe proceed.
Worship this sun, sayd the King, from which wee see and
feel all our welfare to come, and I will adde honour and wealth
to thy old age, otherwise I will cutt it short with painfull
opprobious death. In value, replied Simeon, dost thou terrify
mee with that which is my cheif desire, to suffer torments and
death for Christs sake.
Yet at least, sayd the King, If thou beest sencelesse of thine
own good, have compassion of thy Fellows miseries, whose lives
run hazard through thy obstinacy. For I vow the desolation of
thy whole sect if thou persist in thy rebeUion.
Thou shalt doe, oh King, what God shall give thee leave,
sayd Simeon. To his good pleasure I committ the care of his
own Church. As for mee, theres nothing can be so intolerable
to endure as the performance of what thou enjoynest would bee.
Sapores, perceiving that Simeon was invincible, and that both
threats and promises returned back with disadvantage to himself,
whilest they were so slighted by the other, willed him to bee
carried to prison, that so both of them might have further re
spite to deliberate on this busines, being himself uncertaine how
to proceed with Simeon, partly hoping that Simeon might by
time and other meanes be wonne from his present Con
stancy. Hereupon the Officers drag Simeon away with much de
spight, till comming to the Court-gates they mett with that
which, causing much honour to Simeon, bred much amazement
in them. Usthazanes, an old Eunuch of great Authoritie with
the King, as having been his Tutor, sitting at the Entrance of
the Pallace (as the manner of the Persian Courtiers was), upon
Simeons comming to goe out, rose up, and with semblance of
much Love and honour, saluted him as he passed by.
But Simeon answered his Curtesy and faire greetings with
contempt and exclamations, turning away his face as if hee

i88 IHS
disdained to look on him, and bitterly upbraiding him for his
Apostasle. For this good old Eunuch having been a zealous
Christian was, in the beginning of the persecution, by the faire
allurements and frlghtfull menaces of the King his Master,
drawn away to the dissembled profession of Idolatry, and to the
counterfeit denial of Christian faith which, like sparkes hid in
a flint stone upon strong knocking, buret out by meanes of this
sharp reproof of Simeon into the Ught and fire of an open and
zealous confession. At first It speakes In silence by teares and
sighs, but at last it proclaimes itself aloud by words and deeds.
Hee goes home, and tearing off his rich apparrel, as one of the
cheifest accessories of his Error, hee cloathes himself with
mourning, and returning to his former station begins with
loud outcries to bewaile his Guilt and misery.
Wretched Usthazanes, sayd hee, with what heart canst thou
endure the terror of the Judgement that canst not endure the
Intimation of the Inditement ? What wlU the Angry frowns
of the Master breed in thee when the displeased turning away
of the servant so amates thee ?
Simeon disdalnes mee and I cannot beare it. Oh, how shaU
I beare it when Christ condemnes mee ? Simeons reproach
confounds mee and makes my case farre worse then his thats
hald In iron chaines to prison. Oh, what will the confusion of
my soul bee when I shall see and heare the upbraldings of
miUions of Saints to the fuU of what it deserves, and find my
self after hald away in chaines of darknes to everlasting torments ?
Whilst Usthazanes is thus in the midst of his Lamentations
there came some for him in the Kings Name who, having heard
the matter, and much perplexed thereat, willed that hee should
be instandy brought into his presence. Where, being arrived,
the King prevents him, and with semblance of much kindnes
demands the cause of his unusual habit and the ground of that
sorrowful! Aspect which he saw in his fece, and of those mourn-
fuU Complaints which hee had heard of by others.
Is there anything. Father, sayd Sapores, that Is wanting to
thee in my Pallace, or Is there any person In my Kingdome so

IHS 189
hardy to have done thee Injury ? And if thou neither wantest
any thing that thou desirest, nor sufferest any thing that thou
oughtest, whence comes it that thou art thus afflicted, and
with thy mourning and greif contaminatest the eternal joy and
pleasure of my house ?
Its no misfortune, O King, answered Usthazanes, that hath
newly befallen mee, but my misdoing a good while since that
thus torments mee, and causeth mee to disquiet thee and thy
Pallace with my sorrow and complaints. Its the abundance of
honour and favour that I received in thy Court that makes mee
so full of horror and shame, and the too much satisfaction that
I have given and taken In thy Pallace and to thee that have
brought mee to this miserable condition In which I now am.
Oh, would to God the uttermost of wants and injuries, which
not thy Kingdome but the whole world could afford, had be
fallen mee rather then this which I have brought upon my self
by counterfeit adoring of the sun against my Faith and duty
both to the Divine Majestie and thee, for to both I am a Traitor
In wickedly denying the allegiances which I owe to God, and
In dissemblingly abusing the trust and confidence that thou hast
in mee. I have fainedly broke Gods Commandments and
feinedly performed thine. I am false in what I have done, and
false in what I have not done, every way a perfidious and
wretched Caitife. But if I have been a deceiver hitherto, Ile
be so no longer. Ile return to that allegiance I owe to God.
lie renew the fidelltle wherein I am bound to thee. Ile cancel
my hypocrisy by open Confession, and amend my secret
Treasons by performance of publick service and faith to both.
Heare, therefore, oh King, and mark it weU. For I call
God to record, that made heaven and earth, to avenge It on
my head if I fail in what I now avow. If I had a thousand
lives, I would rather give them a thousand times over to death
and torments then once more bow down my knee to this
visible Sun, which thou requirest, or deny any more that
eternal son of God, Christ Jesus, whom thou blasphemest,
to be my only Lord and Saviour.

190 IHS
Sapores being astonished at this strange passage, and imputing
all to the Inchantments of the Christians, that had thus per
verted, as he thought, the understanding of his beloved servant,
after he had discharged the fury of his Indignation against
them by many outragious exclamations and menaces, turning
himself to Usthazanes endeavoured now with entreaties and
promises, and then with arguments and perswaslons, and last of
all with bitter menaces and terrors to regaine him back to his
utter perdition. But Usthazanes tells him resolutely that he
would never more' be such a fool as to worship the creature
in stead of the creator, nor loose his soul for the preservation of
his Life, nor make forfeiture of everlasting happines for the
transltorie feeble pleasure of this world. Whereupon Sapores
in great rage with him wills him immediately to be had away
and his head chopt off for his obstinacle, as he called it ; for his
happy confession of the truth, as it was in truth. As the
Officers lead him to Execution, Usthazanes remembring him
self, as it were, of some important matter, praies the Officere
to stay a while till he might send the King a message, and
receive an answere, wherein, they willing to gratify him,
he calls an assured Freind of his, a fellow Eunuch, and of
special favour with the King, and desires him immediately
to repaire to the King, And In my Name, sayd Usthazanes,
humbly beg In repayment of aU the faithfull service which I
have done to his Majestie and to his Father before him, and in
testimony of that favour and love which he hath made profession
heretofore to beare mee, that he would now command that it
might by open proclamation bee made known imto the world
that I am not sentenced to death for treason or any other mis
demeanour against the Law, but only for being a Christian and
refusing to deny God at the Kings Injunction. Sapores heai'-
ing the request, willingly condescended thereunto, supposing
that the bruit thereof would strike more terror and amazement
Into the minds of all men, and that a great Number of the
Christians, seeing the rigour with which he proceeded against
Usthazanes that had brought him up, and was so high In his

IHS 191
favour, would by this meanes give ,over their profession, the
maintenance whereof they might hereby perceive was in the
Kings resolution unpardonable. This was the Kings hope in
the grant of this Petition. But Usthazanes his aime was
cleane contrary in the making of it. He considered that his
former weaknes might perhaps have been an occasion of others
falling or staggering, and therefore was desirous that the notice
of his repentance and constancy might be as public as his
Apostasy, that he might so recover by the example of his
death whom he had mislead or endangered by the error of
his life.
Usthazanes therefore, upon the obtaining of his suit
marched on in great triumph. Every publication of the
Cryer that was thus made sounded in his eares as if it had been
a voice from heaven, assuring the remission of his forepast guilt
and inviting him to the participation of infinitely better
Comforts and honour then those which he abandoned at the
present. In this Confidence Usthazanes gave up his life
with so much joy as the overflowings thereof filled good
Simeon full of comfort when he heard thereof. He neither
felt bonds nor any other sufferings for the abundance of con
solation which he received in the consideration of Gods
mercy and Usthazanes his happiness.
The next day Simeon himself, being brought before the
King and found Immovable In his faith, was condemned with a
hundred others to be beheaded, whom Simeon, like a good
Captaine, animated with exhortations and arguments to the
embracing of those lighter sufferings for the attainment of ever
lasting happines. To deny Christ, sayd hee, is death Indeed,
and to dy for him Is the entrance into Hfe and happines. If
wee now save our lives we shall loose our souls for ever, and
the deferring of death (for scape it wee cannot long) shall
after a little while return to the utter destruction both of our
souls and bodies which, if they fall now by the stroke of the
sword for Christs sake, shall by the vertue of his power be
againe raysed up to the fruition of eternal happines, whereunto

192 IHS
our souls shall immediately ascend. Thus did Simeon
reason ; but on the other side, the Magitians made long
offers not only of life but of much honour and advancement
to them if they would renounce Christ and adore the sun.
But there was not any one that did not with great Courage
run to the embracement of death rather then to the accepta
tion of their profers ; only one old man excepted, Ananias
by name, who by his pale visage and trembling joynts giving
evidence of feare, Puslces, a great officer and cheif of all
the Kings Artificers, stepping boldly to him, wiUed him to be
of good Courage and not to faint now at the last. Shutt thine
eies a while, oh Father, sayd Puslces, and take good heart,
and in an Instant thou shalt behold the light of God himself.
Upon these words Puslces is apprehended and lead before
the King, where, freely confessing his beleif in Christ and
reprehending the Kings cruelty against the Saints, the King
enragedly commands that his tongue should be pulled out by
a slltt made in his neck, and so he died. And shortly after,
his Daughter, a noble Virgin, was for the covetousnes of her
estate maliciously accused and cruelly murthered.
The beginning thus made at Court, the persecution spred
through the whole Kingdome. Amongst many admirable
passages that stand recorded In the ecclesiastical histories, I
cannot omitt the remembrance of one being a consequence of
the present narration, and In sundry respects a fitting president
for our selves. Blessed Simeon left behind him a Sister named
Tarbota, a virgin of excellent beauty both of mind and
body, being as vertuous as faire, although in this last she was
extreme, as my Authour sayth. The memory of her brother
makes her Hable to the malice of his Enemies. They imagine
that Simeon aflronts them in his freinds and that they had
taken but half their revenge of him whilest this other half of
him remaines alive. Tarbota had withdrawn herself with
two maids only into a retired place, serving God Night and
day in prayers and supplications. This resemblance of her
Brothers faith and vertue makes her become doubly odious to

IHS 193
the Jews. To suit the punishment therefore according to
their own evill affections and to make her equal in sufferings
to whom she was so neere in blood and like disposition of
mind, they perswaded the Queen, who languished of a sore
and unknown Infirmitle, that Tarbota had bewitched her in
requital of her brothers death, and that the obstinacy of the
disease receiving no mitigation from the help of Physlck was
begun and continued by Tarbotas sorcery and Inchantment.
The prejudicial opinion of Christianitie in general and the
consciousnes of unjustice and cruelty used In the particular of
Simeon make both King and Queen to give ready eare and
easy assent to this wicked Information ; and the desire of
help and Intolerablenes of anguish thrusting on the Queens
crudeUtle, the manner of the cure which was propounded by
the Jews was immediately resolved to be put in execution,
although it seemes too horrible to recompt in womans eares.
They tell this unhappy Queen that her life consists In
Tarbotas death, the recovery of her health In the inflicting of
torments, and the regaining of her Comforts in the exercize of
unheard of Cruelties. Hereupon the blessed virgin Is appre
hended, and, after a most unjust processe framed against her
upon fained suspicions of malitious accusers, is by false Judges
condemned to be sawn asunder in the midst, and two parts of
her Body to be hanged upon two Stakes a good distance one
from another, which being done, the sick Queen after divers
fond ceremonies Is perswaded to walk up and down between
them, her wicked Counsellors putting her in hope by meanes
of this dismembred body to recover the lost vigour of her
own. It is reported, sayth mine Authour, that the incomparable
beauty of Tarbota had so inveigled the heart of one of the
cheif Magitians that he sent her word In prison that If she
would consent unto his Love he would procure her both her
own and her servants release from shame and punishment.
The blessed Virgin sent him answere that the hearing of his
message was more painfull and greivous to her then the under-
14

194 IHS
going of any torments or opprobries that could be invented,
adding, if she had a thousand lives shee would rather loose
them one after another then consent to the least defilement of
her Chastltie. The desire of this close so proper for us hath
made an enlargement of the Historic from what was at first
Intended, which was only the particular of Usthazanes, the
application whereof Is most evident and easie.
Affect. True. For If a Kings Favour and the highest
honours of this country could not answere the losse of one
Saints Love and esteeme, how timerous oughtest thou, oh my
soul, to be of pulling the whole Court of Heaven their
Enmitie upon thee ?
He that thus setts the Saints by him shall hardly be over
taken with sin, at least not long kept under It. But if this
repaire prove too weak at any time through strength of
temptation, let him goe a little higher and he shall find a bul
wark that sin can never scale nor conquer. Let him sett Gon
before him, and he may boldly say with David he shall never
fall. My story shall be a proof of the Invinciblenes of this
Consideration, if it be rightly and fully improved, to confound
all the fiery darts of Satan.
Lais was born in Alexandria of an honourable stock, with
rare endowments both of mind and body, being witty and
beautifuU above all the women of her Age. The too much, or
rather too ill ordered Love and wealth of her parents was the
ground of her overthrow. For hapenlng upon a wanton and
wUfuU Education through her mothers fondnes and great
estate, vaine desires and wicked appetites took such head In
her that, breaking through all restraints of shame and con
science assoone as she came to liberty and opportimltie. In
riper yeares she gave herself over to lasciviousnes to work
uncleanes with greedlnes.
This wretched life of hers, and the death and destruction of
so many other souls comming to the eares of Paphuntlus, a
man of great renown for holines amongst the inhabitants of
the desert, after he had in much affliction and anguish of

IHS 195
mind, with many teares besought God for the remedie of so
many mlschelfs and so much sin as rose by this occasion, being,
as It Is presumed and as the sequel shows. Inspired by God
(for otherwise It had been perhaps too bold a resolution), he
changed his sackcloth Into costly garments, and having washt
his body, trimd his haire, and every way tired himself after
the manner of wanton Lovers, he goes to Alexandria, and
entering into Lais her house, without more adoe, to avoyd Idle
words, puts the price of Iniquitie into her hand. She con
ceived his meaning though he sayd nothing, and thereupon
led him aside into a stately roome.
Paphuntlus lookes about him wistly, and Lais, to secure
him for what she thought he was afrayd, shutts the
dore, presently telUng him that they were safe. But not
secret enough, replied hee. Then follow mee, sayd shee, and
carryed him Into an Inner roome. Here nobody can see or heare
us, you may be sure, sayd Lais. Not sure enough, sayd
Paphuntlus ; is there yet no more private Chamber ? Yes,
my Cabbinet is more remote, and altogether fitt for your
shamefast heart. With that she unlocks the dore, and
smilingly tells him, Now you may be bold, for but God
In heaven, none can see nor know what Is done here. The
holy man that looked for this Cue amazedly made answere,
Doe you then think there is a God that sees all ? I know It,
sayd she, that nothing can be concealed from his eyes. And
doe you, sayd he, withaU beleive that there Is a heaven and a
hell ? I beleive both, sayd she, and withall that sin leads to
the one and the service of God to the other. And with that
she sighed deeply. Thou doest well, sayd Paphuntlus, to sigh,
for woe is thy case above all others, that shalt give an accompt
not only for thine own, but of all those other soules which
through thy meanes run headlong to damnation ; and answer
able to the abundance of thine Iniquitie shalbe the excesse of
thy torments. Consider, oh Lais, what It is thou doest, and
whom it is thou dost offend : No lesse then the Infinite
Majestie and goodnes of God, that hath given thee thy being,

196 IHS
that hath given thee that beauty, wltt, and grace, whereby
thou pleasest others, and wherein thou pridest thy self. And
yet Is aU this Uttle or nothing In regard of that which he hath
done for thee in making thee a Christian, in offering thee a
Crown of happines, in affording thee all possible meanes to
attaine It. Tell mee, for which of all these benefitts Is It that
thou heapest Injurle upon Injurle and settest thy self, as It
were, to outvy his mercies with offences ? Why art thou so
ungratefuU to God alone ? If to him that gives thee gold
(how much so ever It bee, the value Is easy to be estimated)
thou givest thy body, though with the penaltle of eternal dam
nation, how much more just and necessary Is it to make returne
of some good fruits to God, that hath given thee all that
which is worthy love In thee ? And not only so, but hath
given himself beside, hath shed his bloud, hath layd down
his Life for thee, and all this with the promise of eternal
blessednes. Tell mee, is it sufferable that a woman loved by
her spouse, equal to his own life, should bestow the jewels
which he gives her upon Adulterers ? Tell mee, I say, and let
mee know wherein the difference lies on thy part, that turnest
this ExceUency of understanding, of speach, of beauty, which
Christ hath bestowed on thee, to the service and satisfaction
of the Devill. Remembrest thou not how he betrothed thee
unto himself, and how thou pUghtest thy Faith unto him in
thy Baptlsme ? Thinkest thou that he wiU alwaies beare
what he hath hitherto borne ? Let that which is past suffice,
and take advantage of this time and this meanes that he now
offers to redeeme thee out of the snares of Hell. How many
Millions, thinkest thou, ly buried there that have not committed
the thousand part of those sins which thou art guilty of?
Shall his goodnes towards thee in so long-suffering be the
ground of thy going on In sinning against him ? Wilt thou
therefore adventure to offend him, because he hath so long
spared thee ? Loose not this occasion, that thou loose not
thy self. Deferre not thy conversion least thou diminish the
helpe. There Is nothing of moment but Salvation which, if a

IHS 197
man oversllp, he can never regaine nor make amends hereafter
if he work It not out rightly whilest he is in this world. For
God that doth pardon worlds of sins upon repentance in this
world, pardons none at all when men are gone out of it. So
that he that dies in sin is certaine to be damned. And there
fore, because wee have no certainty of Life, we ought to make
no putting off to repentance and conversion. Whilest
Paphuntlus used these and other like arguments, the Spirit of
God working powerfully by them, Lais, that stood attentive,
fell at last a trembling, and after a floud of teares that burst out
of her eies, casting her self at the feet of the holy man,
besought him to tell her what she was to doe. Whereupon,
giving her some Instructions for the present, and commending
her to the Grace of God, he willed her to come unto him in
the desert at the end of three daies. Paphuntlus departed,
and Lais, to testify her own and to provoke others repentance,
making a pile In the market place of all her goods and riches,
with her own hands sett fire to them. The rest of the story
is very admirable ; you shall perhaps heare it at another time.
Now let it suffice to know that she lived most penitently and
died most happily ; and that which you have heard was the
ground of her conversion.
Cheeref. If neither dread of Gods Majestie nor Love of
the saints Fellowship prevail, yet Is there a third way of pre
venting sin by putting ourselves upon a trial how wee could
beare the punishment that is certainly due unto It ; to which
purpose I shall tell you a story of no lesse admlrableness then
those you have already heard.
There was a holy man named Martinian, who, having
served God from his youth up, was by Gods grace for the
benefitt of others endued with the guifte of miracles, so that he
cured many Infirmities by his prayers only. The extra-
ordinarienes of this gift and the eminency of his hoUnes above
all others of his time, having bred a great admiration and so a
continual discourse in the famous Citty of Cesarea, from which
his solitary habitation was distant but a few miles, being seated

198 IHS
upon a desert mountaine ; it came to passe, that as one day
divers of the clttlzens were publickly reasoning and recompting
sundry great matters which God had wrought by him, making
the prayse of his holines the close of every sentence, a woman
of the world that heard it as she passed by, being put forward
by the Devill, stept boldly In amongst them, saying. What a
wonderment, Masters, doe you make of this mans holines.
Its an easy matter to be good where theres no opportunitie of
being evlU. He Is rather to be deemed wise for having shutt
out the temptation then vertuous for having conquered sin
it self. To keep Innocency and Intregrltle In the throng of
the world Is the proof of a Saint, but to keep it amongst
beasts in the wildernes needs no such grace, nor desen'es any
such prayse as you give to this man. It Is evident that straw
is as safe as stone from burning whilest it comes not neere the
fire ; but let him come to mee or let me goe to him, and if I
enflame not his heart and provoke him to folly, I am content
not you alone, but the Angels themselves shall doe him
reverence. The rest of this passage is not worth compting.
The Issue was, These foolish words were approved, and the
wicked offer accepted, and an agreement presently made
between this bad woman and worse Company, that she should
make the trial, and if the successe were answerable to her
promise she should have a reward in mony besides the praize of
a good witt.
Whereupon she went home, and having apparelled hereelf
like a wayfaring person, a meane coat girt about her, a staffe
in her hand, and a bundle under her Arme, she made directly
for this holy mans ceU, whereat she arrived about an houre
in the Night. Before she came neer she sent forth her cries :
Man of God, for that Lord Jesus sake whom thou servest, and
for love of whom thou hast left the world, I beseech thee give
me shelter for this Night, that am tyred with a journey,
drowned with water, and if thou succour not, in hazard to be
dead through cold and hunger, and certaine to be devoured of
wild beasts before morning. I have lost my way, and

IHS 199
though I knew It I have not strength to goe. Despise mee
not, however I be a sinner, yet cease not to be the creature of
God. With this she began to weep and wall aloud. Mar
tinian, that was at his prayers, rose up, and opening his window
and seeing the woman, and perceiving that it rayned indeed, as
she had sayd, very terribly. In great perplexitie of mind began,
as he whose heart was continual in heaven, to reason with
God. Ah, Lord, what shall I now doe ? If I leave this
woman abroad shall I not break the Law of Charltle and be
guilty of her bloud If she perish ? and If I let her In shall I not
bring the fire into my bosome ? Help mee. Lord, for I am In
a great streight, and danger presseth hard upon me on every
side. Let not mine enemies triumph over mee, neither let
them say So would wee have It. Having thus prayed, he
opened his dore, and after he had kindled the fire, giving her
some dates, the only food which he lived with, he bid her rest
her self till morning, and then in Gods Name goe on her
journey. This done, he withdrew himself into an Inner
roome, and shutting the dore began to sing and pray his
Psalmes as he used, and so long he was safe and quiet. But
when rising from his prayers he layd him down to his rest, the
messenger of Satan began to buffett him, and though he
strove much, yet not being able to drive out evill thoughts he
past a wearisome and watchfuU Night, and In the morning
rose much afflicted, doubting that the holy spirit of God had
forsaken him, since his brest was now become such a sink of
uncleannes. He had scarce sett his foot over the threshold
when he was ready to pull back againe, such amazement and
feare came on him to see a goodly woman In rich habiliments
instead of a desolate creature that he had left in the Roome
overnight. Recollecting his spirits, he demanded who she was,
and how she came there, and what diabolical habit and dresse
she had got. I am the woman, sayd she, whom thou yeaster-
nlght receivedst with so much charltle, and these ornaments
are the bundle which I brought with mee. I pretended error
for my comming, and pleaded Necessitie and danger for

200 IHS
entrance, but It was Love that Indeed forced mee out of mine
owne house, and desire to enjoy thee, of whose true worth I
have heard so much, that hath made mee take such paines and
run such peril. The best of Cesarea would think It happines
to be possessors of that which I now make tender of to thee.
Bee not wanting to mee, nor to thyself in that which thou
mayest with so much advantage accomplish, making exchange
of misery for happines. For tell mee, I pray, what It Is thou
aimest at. More then heaven I am sure It cannot be, and
thats as open to the married as to virgins ; as accessible to him
that eats as to him that fasts ; as nigh him that sleeps as to him
that waketh. Doth not Paul himself say that Marriage is
honourable ? And which of all the Patriarchs canst thou find
with not one wife at least ? how many of them two or more ?
Doest thou hope to passe them in glorie ? If not, what needs
thou take another path then they went ? When she had
thus spoken, or rather the Devill in her, perceiving by his
change of countenance that the infection began to spread, she
came neerer, and with smiling cheare laying hold on his hand.
What Is it thou doubtst of, my Martinian ? sayd shee. Alas,
sayd the conquered Saint, deeply sighing. If I take thee for
my wife, whither shall I carry thee, or how shall I maintaine
thee ? Take no thought, replied the lying spirit through her
false tongue ; I have wealth in abundance ; only now give mee
satisfaction and all shalbe thine. These last words past like
a canon shott through Martinians heart, laying all the
holines of his soule flatt on the ground, and he without more
adoe was going to the surrender of his body, when remember
ing himselfe a Uttle, Stay, sayd he, a while ; let me firet
goe out and see whether all be safe, for oftimes about this
houre there come people unto mee, some for one, and some for
other occasions ; and although the sin cannot be hidd from
God, yet it is best for avoyding of scandal to prevent the
knowledge of men. Having so sayd he mounts up the hill to
make the better discovery. And whilest he lookes about with
horror in himself, God lookes down upon him with mercy,

IHS 201
and sends a strong and powerfull Inspiration into his heart
that he should consider well what it was he did, and what it
was he lost, whom it was he pleased, and whom it was he
should offend. His eies were no sooner open, which con
cupiscence had before Winded, but feeling his error and
seing his danger, he runs into his cell, and flinging a bundle of
Leaves and other Hght matter upon the fire, assoone as the
flame began to kindle he steps Into it, crying out aloud. What
thinkest thou now, Martinian ? Is It good being here or
no ? If thou canst not endure this blaste of heat, how wilt
thou endure the everlasting furnace of hell ? Goe to now and
take thy pleasure with that woman yonder ; thats the ready
and sure way to the lake of brimstone and fire. Thus crying
and thus burning he stood, till the fire having gott the mastery
of his strength, and supplanted his feet, he fell down upon the
ground. And then with a floud of tears and sighs, lifting up
his hands, he fell a begging of mercy and forgivenes of the sin
which he had committed In Intending. Having so done a good
while, at last he began to say the Psalme that begins. Truly
God Is loving unto Israel, even to such as be of a cleane heart.
The woman, that stood by and saw all, being moved by the
self same spirit of God, that her repentance might begin
whence her sin took rise, tearing of her goodly rayment, flung
it into the fire, and having clothed herself with what she
first came in, casting herself down at Martinians feet,
besought him to pardon what she had done, and to pray for
her, For I am, sayd she, the wretchedest of all sinners ;
but henceforth I will serve God, and none but him, nor will
I ever return to mine own house. Therefore tell me what I
shall doe. The Devil thought to entrap thee, and behold, by
the mercy of Christ he hath lost his bait too. Hee thought
to make warre on thee by my meanes, and through the power
of Christ and thy means I hope to make warre on him without
peace or truce. The Deceiver Is deceived, and the crafty is
taken in his own wiles. Oh, the wisedome and the mercy ot
our God ! What shall I give unto him for all the benefitts

202 IHS
that he hath done unto mee ? Tell me, thou man of God,
what I shall doe for the cancelling of my sins, for the securing
of my salvation ? Whilest she thus spake the teares stopped
her mouth ; and Martinian, seeing by the truth of her
sorrow the unfainednes of her conversion, having given double
thanks to God for his own and her deliverance, after divers
holy Admonitions and Instructions, dispatched her away, giving
a token of recommendation to certaine holy women in
Hierusalem, by whom she was lovingly received and instructed.
There she lived twelve yeares with great strictnes, and at last
died with much happines. As for Martinian, it was fuU
seven months space before he was whole of those cruel wounds
which he had received by this meanes.
Cheife. Your Stories have been of sinners Conversion
wrought by meanes of Saints. Mine shalbe of Saints per
fection encreased by meanes of sinners. Nonnus, being chosen
from the Monastery of Tabenenslora to the sea of Ellopolis,
was, upon weighty occasions of the church, sent for with eight
other suffragan Bishops by the Patriarch of Antioche. Being
come and lodged neer St. Julians Church, as they were one
day sitting all together in the porch thereof, their attendants
and much other people being with them, the Bishops besought
Nonnus, who was best able, to bestow on the Company some
words of Exhortation ; which he gladly did, to the great
Edification of the hearers. In the midst of this holy Exercise
there comes by on horseback (after the manner of great per
sonages) a famous Curtesan, waited upon by a Number of
slaves, both men and women. Her garments were em
broidered with gold, sett thick with precious stones even to
her very shoes. Her haire. Neck, and brests were bare,
save for the covering of a rich chalne and other jewels. And
ever as she rod her eies went rouling up and down, now glancing
upon one and then upon another. The smell of her perfumes,
as she came neer, having diverted the intentions of these reHgious
Persons, they began to look about, but had no sooner spied the
cause, but, abhorring the spectacle, the most of them turned

IHS 203
away their faces ; the Bishops, over and above, feU a sighing for
compassion of such sin and danger. But the holy Nonnus,
cleane otherwise, fixing his eies upon her, left not to follow her
with Attention till she was cleane past out of ken. Afterwards
turning him to the Bishops : Tell mee. Fathers, sayd he, hath
not the sight and bravery of this woman made a great Impression
and commotion In your minds ? When none made answere
he layd his face upon his knees and fell a weeping bitterly,
which, having done a while, he lift up himself againe and
demanded anew. Say, I pray, hath nobody here been delighted
with the view of so much beauty and so many ornaments ?
But everybody keeping silence, as at first, Nonnus sayd. Well,
I, for my part, have had exceeding pleasure in the beholding
thereof, for I am confidently perswaded that at the day
of Judgement God will bring forth this woman as a pattern
to try us by, and take our accompts touching the discharge
of those offices which he Imposed on us. How many houres,
think you, hath she wasted In trimming and adorning herself,
that there might be nothing wanting to the satisfaction of her
own vanltle and of her Lovers wanton expectation ? And yet
are they but wretched men, that are of no worth to-day and
nothing at aU to-morrow. But wee, which have our Love
and our spouse in heaven, in regard of whose beauty the sun
and the moon are dimme ; that pretend unto glory and unto
pleasures that passe all possibility of apprehension for the
excellency, and shall never have an end in the enjoyment, trifle
out our dales without any care at all of washing away those
Staines which wee know and confesse doe make our souls
utterly uncapable of such honour and happines. Having thus
spoken he started up, and taking mee, sayth the Relatour, by
the hand, he goes towards his Chamber, where he was no
sooner entered, but kneeUng down and knocking his brest,
he thus cryed out : Pardon, oh pardon, my Lord and my
Saviour Christ Jesus. Pardon this wretched sinner, whom
a vaine woman hath outstripped in care and diligence. In as
much as she doth every day more for the adorning of her body

204 IHS
with vanltle then I have aU the daies of my life done for the
adorning of my soul with vertue. With what face shall I ask,
with what words shall I hope to obtaine, the forgivenes of this
guilt ? There is nothing can be hid from thy eies ; thou seest
us both, and canst well tell who wee are. Thou beholdest
well what each of us doth, and knowest for whose sake wee
doe it. I am a Preist that come every day to thy table, and
am all the day long conversant In and about holy mysteries ;
and yet how negligent am I in paines, how niggardly in care
to make myself acceptable and pleasing unto thee ! She is
a woman and a sinner, and yet makes no spare of cost, nor
even makes an end of study to make herself pleasing and
lovely unto men. So that, woe is mee ! but for thy mercy
I should have no manner of hope, as I can find no manner
of excuse. This he sayd at present, and gave not over to
weep and mourn in the same kind all the day after. Sunday
came, and the Bishops being assembled with the congregation,
after the reading of the Gospel the Patriarch gave Nonnus,
who satt next him, the Bible, desiring him, out of that Hving
fountaine, to water the people with the doctrine of salvation.
The holy man, answering by Obedience, went up into the
pulpit, and there, not with premeditated words of Eloquence,
but by manifestation of the truth and in the power of the
spirit, wrought so effectually upon his Auditours, making
remonstrance of the horrors of sin and the terror of the punish
ment due thereunto, that their hearts melted within them
through dread and shame. Amongst the rest this sinfull
woman was one, who, whether out of Curiositie to see
Nonnus, perhaps, of whose strange Action she might have
heard, or otherwise — whatever the cause, was surely by Gods
ordinance — was that morning come to the sermon, a thing she
had never before done, being not only a harlot, but an Infidel.
But by how much her understanding was lesse, by so much
did her sence and apprehension of what she heard exceed
others. If others were moved, she was wounded. Every
word that passed through her Eares peirced quite through her

IHS 205
soul. Her eies ran down like fountaines, and not her face
only, but her very garments were spoiled with teares. The
sermon ended, and she come home, she immediately dispatched
a couple of her servants to Nonnus with a letter In these words.
To the holy Disciple of Christ, the sinfull Disciple of the
Devill. I have heard tell of thy God that he came down
from heaven to save men on earth, and that in proof hereof,
though he make the Cherubims tremble at his lookes, yet he
made himself a companion of Publicans and sinners ; that he
disdained not to reason with a Samaritan woman, a great sinner,
at the well of Samaria ; and how that he thereby converted
her. All this I have heard of thy Master. And now. If thou
be his disciple. It Is not just that thou shouldst despise a sinfull
woman such as I am, denying to speak with mee, considering
that I therefore desire to talk with thee that I may be directed
by thee unto Christ Jesus.
The holy Bishop, having read the Letter, made answere
againe by writing.
Christ Jesus knows well who thou art, and takes good
notice (for it cannot be hid from him) what thy meaning and
desire is. I pray thee, goe not about to ensnare mee, for I am
a sinfull man, but yet the servant of Almighty God. But if
it be Jesus Christ indeed whom thou longest after, and faith
In him that thou pretendest unto, and for this cause thou
desirest to speak with mee, thou mayest come and doe it in
the presence of the Bishops with whom I lodge. For but
before them I will not yeeld that thou shouldst say anything
at all to mee. The poore sinner, having read this letter,
without further adoe went to St. Julians Church, and finding
Nonnus, who had warning thereof. In the company of the
Bishops, casting herself at his feet and holding them streight,
sayd unto him, I beseech thee now shew thyself like unto thy
master, and drive me not away, however I deserve, but make
mee a Christian. I confesse I am an ocean and abisse of
Iniquitie, and therefore I pray thee to baptize mee.
Nonnus causing her to be taking up, made answere. The

2o6 IHS
holy canons forbid to give Baptlsme to a harlot, except she
give security not to return to her forepast wickednes. She
hearing this fell down againe, and washing Nonnus his feet
with teares and wiping them with her haires, spake thus :
Father, thou shalt give accompt to God for this soul before
his dreadfull TribunaU, and all my sins shall be sett over unto
thee, if thou delay to baptize me and wash my soul from
those Infinite staines with which it is polluted. I pray God
thou mayst have no part with him amongst his Saints, but
that thou mayst be cast in his Judgement, as though thou
hadst denyed him and offered sacrifice unto Devills, if so be
thou doe not this day make mee the spouse of Christ, and
present mee before him without spott of sin. The Bishops
and pther Preists that stood by hearing these words and seeing
such Zeal and HumlUtie, cryed out. They had never in their
lives heard, much lesse seen, such a passage as this was ; and
streightwaies commanded mee, sayth the Relatour, to goe and
advertize the Patriarch and to desire him to send some holy
woman of good understanding to instruct and comfort this
poore soul. The Patriarch, hearing the matter, was fiiU of
joy, saying it was his expectation before that God would doe
such great things as these by the meanes of such holy men as
the Bishops were ; and immediately sent with us a godly
matron, who was the cheif amongst the women dedicated
unto God, and named Romana. When wee came, sayth the
Authour, wee found the poore soul at Nonnus his feet, and
though hee strove to make her rise, yet would she not till he
told her it was to baptize her. Thereupon she stood up,
and he bid her call to mind all her sins, and repent heartily
for them. My sins, replied she, are more in Number then
the sand, and in heavines they weigh down the sea itself;
yet have I confidence in God, that through his bounty and
goodnes he will forgive mee them all. How art thou called ?
sayd Nonnus. My Parents, sayd she, at my birth gave mee
the name of Pelagla, but the Cittizens of Antioch call mee
Margaret, for the many ornaments of Pearles and other Jewels

IHS 207
that I have used to sett forth mine own vanitie and to provoke
others sensualitie. Thy right name, then, is Pelagla, sayd
Nonnus, and so it shalbe stiU ; and hereupon baptized her,
and afterwards committed her to Romana, willing her to
instruct her in the perfect knowledge of the Christian Faith ;
which done, the Bishop went home, and turning himself to
mee (sayth the Relatour) : This day, brother (sayd hee), is
to be kept by us with great joy and good cheere. The very
Angels make mirth, and it is fitt that wee should doe Hkewise.
See, therefore, that wee have oile for our meat, and let us
drink a little wine also ; for wee have made a good purchase
for our Master in the regaining of this sinfiil woman.
You are desirous to heare the end ? The Admirablenes is
that which now hinders. Quiet your expectations for a while,
and they shall be doubly satisfyed, when you shall have the
rest both of this and those other stories which now remain
unfinished.

XII
ST. ANDREW'S DAY, 1632
The Story of Lais concluded — Ephraim — The Father's Inheritance
— Sir Thomas More's Story of the Juryman — Nonnus,
Pelagia, and the Devil — James Devize and the Devil — Mrs.
Catharine Stubs and the Devil — Inigo, King of the Draves
— Amadens, Duke of Savoy — The Story of the forty Martyrs
concluded — The Emperor Valens and the Christian Mother
of Edessa — Oswin, King of Northumberland, and Bishop
Aidan.
Guardian. Though the Admirablenes, that was intimated
in the rest of those two Stories which were left unperfect
upon your last meeting, gave just ground of excuse for not
proceeding in the recompting of them at that time, yet hath
it so much encreased our desires since, as wee cannot wiUingly
give consent to the beginning of any new matter till this old
be finished. What became of Lais, and what became of
Pelagla ? runs so In our minds, as gives no admittance to new
thoughts till these be satisfied. You did much amisse for your
own' quiet, as well as ours, in going off with such a close. If
you ment to deferre your going through with the Relation.
You have made us restlesse through Expectation, and wee are
purposed to give you no rest through Importunitle till wee
have from you the full accompt of those wonderfull passages
which are by your own Confession yet behind in these two
stories. 208

IHS 209
Mother. The force of your reasons as well as of your
desires beare down my former resolutions, and I see no
colour, as I have no power, to wave what you propound. But
I hope you will offer the same Justice as you exact, and wee
shall have the full supply of what was in any kind wanting to
the complement of the last daies work, as well as to these
particular stories. If you distraine for our Arrears, you cannot
of Equitic think of going free yourself without paying anything
at all.
Moderatour. We cannot deny but you have right, and
that were a double wrong, to presse you to make fuU weight,
if we intended not to bring in our own parts of this Assesse-
ment. You look for stories, and you shall have them, and
anything els that you desire, so you performe now what wee
long for. Assoone as jrou have made the firet of your stories
perfect you shall have both oure. Wherefore, I pray, let the
Affectionate proceed where she left.
Affect. After holy Paphuntlus was departed, poore Lais,
recollecting her scattered thoughts, and by those Unes whicli
he had drawn guiding them unto God and fixing them in
him as in a center, to cut off all occasion of Divereion that
any commerce or Interest in the world might breed, and, if
it might be, through the example of her Conversion to bring
againe to the right way some of them whom through former
wantonnes she had misled, having gathered together all her
goods and Jewels, which amounted to many thousands or
pounds, she caused them to be brought forth into the most
frequented place of the Cittjr, and there in open x'iew of all
setting fire with her owne hands, consumed diem all to ashes,
crying out aloud as shee did it, Come hither now, ali you that
have been partakers with mee in sin, and see how the jewels
which you gave mee burn. The flame of this fire having
quenclied the flames of concupiscence in her own and the
beholdere hearts (for to this end was all this great wast made,
that by the terror of such ;m execution upon the sencelesse
accessories to lust, her sensual Lovere might bc brought to
15

210 IHS
the same apprehension which she was, of those everlasting
torments which would in the end overtake them if they did
not now with her make prevention), Lais, according to appoint
ment, makes hast to Paphuntlus In the desert, and is by him
immediately led to a company of religious women, who for
the Love and better service of God had abandoned the delights
of the world, and for the surer maintenance and more abimdant
exercize of their heavenly desires had made a league to live
and dy together. To these holy women doth Paphuntlus
consigne Lais, himself for a while attending with all diUgence
of Instruction and Devotion in his prayere that furtherance and
confirmation of her faith and repentance ; which assoone as he
perceived to have taken good root in Lais her heart, he deter
mines to return to that quiet and contemplation which he had
for her sake so long intermitted. And esteeming it unfitt to
leave her at llbertle, or to the free enjoyment of those holy
womens fellowship under whose governance he left her, he
resolves to shutt her up betweene foure walls. Whereunto
Lais, through humilitie esteeming herself unworthy of any
bodies society, and desire to attend wholly without Impediment
or distraction to the making sure of her salvation, easily con
descends. And so it Is accompHshed. Upon her closing up
she asks Paphuntlus, with great meeknes, how she should pray
and call upon God. Paphuntlus, wllHng both to try and
exercize her humility to the uttermost, gave an Answere that
makes mee tremble In relating ; and yet it troubled her not at
all, so deep was her faith layd in the contempt of her self and
the Admiration of Gods Infinite Majestie. Thou art un-
worth (sayd he) with thy polluted Ups to mention the holy
Name of God, or to Uft up thy hands so defiled with sin
towards heaven ; but kneeling and turning to the East, say
over and over againe. Thou that hast created mee, have mercy
upon mee. With these bitter Comforts for her soul, and the
allowance of bread and water only for her sustenance, did holy
Paphuntlus leave this penitent. But where mans love and
kindnes ends, Gods pitty and mercy begins ; in comparison

IHS 211
whereof Mans greatest Mercies are but cruelties. Hee adds
the vertue of his word to this bread, and so it serves for
nourishment, and he supplies strength by the consolation of his
holy spirit. And Lais goes on with her repentance for three
yeares space ; at the end whereof Paphuntlus, meeting with the
great St. Antonie, tells him the case, and asketh his advice
what he might think, and what he should doe touching Lais ;
whether it were Hkely that God had pardoned her, or would
have her yet released. St. Antonie, that fetched all his
Counsells from God, willed his Disciples that were with him
to watch a whole night and to pray earnestly that God would
direct them In this matter. Whilest aU, out of obedience and
Charltle, sett themselves fervently to the performance, the suit
is obtained and the secret revealed to the Elect of St. Antonies
Disciples. Hee sees heaven opened in a Vision and discovers
with his eie a rich bed, on which lay a crown, and three Damsels
appeared to him, as all things are that belong to heaven, of
Incomparable beauty, of Inestimable worth, and of Infinite
Glory. Being ravished with delight, he began to say within
himself. The honour and the happines of this gift can belong
to no man Uving but my master. He had scarce thus thought
when he heard a voice. All this is prepared for Lais, that was
a woman of the world, and not for Antonie. Paphuntlus,
doubly glad for Lais, and himself now freed from care by the
assurance of her salvation, makes hast to visit her, and with
great rejoycing breaks down the dore which with many teares
he had made up. He calls her happy, and wills her to come
abroad without any feare. For thy sins (sayd he) are pardoned
through the mercy of God. I know it, sayd Lais ; for I now
feel them not at all that have aU this while felt them going
over my head like a sore burden too heavy to beare. Tell mee
(sayd Paphuntlus) after what manner hast thou spent this
time ? When I was first shutt up, answered Lais, I made a
bundle of my sins and held them steddily before mine eies unto
the last, weeping and mourning over them. Verily, replied
Paphuntlus, it is not thy Penitency, but thy Humilitie, that

212 IHS
God hath had so much respect unto. Fifteen daies after this
did Lais continue an Angels Life on earth, praysing and
magnifying the greatnes of Gods mercy to her In the
Company of those holy women. And then her soul, being
parted from her body by the meanes of Death, was by the
minlsterie of Angels carried up Into heaven, there In company
of the blessed Saints and Angels to enjoy an everlasting fulnes
of Glorie and Happines.
Guard. There was more Art, I perceive, in breaking oft
your Storle last day, then Necessitie. The dislike of Lais her
Penitency will undoubtedly make the whole to be questioned,
and under the pretence of the Impossibilitie of the last part,
the probabilitie of the first will be denyed by the wisedome of
this Age, which will believe no further then it sees, nor
approve any more then it meanes to imitate.
Mother. But however they prize it for the Quintessence
of witt, yet it is undoubtedly but a Masterpeice of Folly, to
make their own Affections and Abilities the Rule and measure
by which the truth and vertue of forepast Actions is to be
tryed. Shall not the recommendation of venerable Antiquitie
gett creditt with us for more then fitts our own turns ? but
all that is not proportionable to our delicacle was a fable, all
that is not agreeable to our Ignorance is Superstition in the
lives and practizes of the Saints. What the Authoritie of
this Historic is I will not contend. Let every man beleive as
he please, so hee deny mee not that for which this History, if it
be a made History, seemes cheifly intended : That it becomes
them to whom much is forgiven to love much — that is
Christ his own Law ; and that for great sins the repentance
ought to be long continued — that was Davids practize, who
every night washt his bed and watered his couch with teares
and professeth to have his heavines ever in his sight. Though he
had pardon under the great seal by the Mouth of the self-same
prophet that had put in the Inditement against him in Gods
behalf, yet he lays not by the sorrow of his misdoings in his
own heart, nor the solemne publication of it to others ; but

IHS 213
proceeds In such a manner that even to this day hee seemes to
doe pennance In the Church. Hee that afflicts himself only
till he have obtained pardon, seemes to be sorry rather for his
own losse then for his offence against God. He that truly
hates his sin, grows still more sorry by how much he grows
on to a greater measure of firmnes of reconciliation. The
view of Gods goodnes as he approacheth nearer, makes him
better to see the deformitle of the sin which he left behind
him ; and he weeps and blushes with more sence and willlng-
nes by how much he doth It with more proof and surety of
the Divine favour. Hee that casteth away repentance when
he hath obtained forgivenes, shews to have put a greater prize
upon It then Is indeed due, as though by the vertue thereof
hee had merited that which was given him by the free grace
of God. He that knows his pardon to come altogether from
mercy, can find no cause to shutt out repentance, finding It,
If not so necessary as before, yet more comely. Hee thinks
himself more bound to weep now for love, then he did then for
feare, and setts himself to greive more heartily for his unkind
nes then formerly he did for his losse and danger. Upon
these grounds there was matter enough not only for Lais to
continue her Repentance three yeares, but for so many as we
read of in old times to make profession of It all their life long.
As for the rest of this story, it is very conformable to that
which wee have often seen in Gods proceedings, that where
sin hath abounded, grace hath abounded much more, and agree
able to that which he hath ever promised. That where the
sufferings of Christ abound there shall the consolations of
Christ abound likewise. Of all the sufferings of Christ
there was none so burdensome to him as our own sins ; nor
Is there anything perhaps whereby wee may be made more like
to him in his sufferings, then when wee take up this crosse
of our own and follow him as much as Is possible, with sorrow
and shame for our own sins answerable to that which he
underwent for our sakes, when he bare our sins and took
upon him our guilty persons. The sence of this greif that

214 IHS
made him sweat bloud in the garden, was repayd with consola
tions brought down from heaven by an Angel. And un
doubtedly even to this day it fares so in all his members.
There is ever upon the performance of this work for themselves
a supply of spiritual Joy, as their repentance proves more
delightfull then ever their sins were. Let none of us therefore
be afrayd in this regard to begin and Intend to the uttermost
this duty and exercise, being assured that wee shaU in the end
with David have cause to say and sing : According to the
multitude of the sorrows that I had in my heart, thy comforts
have refreshed my soul. Lais had much afflicted herself with
mourning and many sufferings, and God fiUed her mouth with
joy and her tongue with laughter. She by repentance wore a
crown of thorns about her heart, and God by revelation gave
her an earnest of that immortal Crown of Glory which he
ment to put upon her head. He that sows in teares of Repent
ance, shall even in this vale of misery reap in joy, by the hope
and assurance of eternal Happines which God shaU give unto
him, and that according to that measure of fulnes which himself
desireth. If he sow plentifully he shall reap plentifuUy ; if he
sow sparingly he shall reap sparingly. Let no man be afrayd
to doe this work thoroughly : for for every seed of paines and
greif that he thus setts, God shall, even in this life, give him a
whole sheaf of joy and gladnes into his bosome.
Patient. Undoubtedly you are In the right, and the
Ignorance or misunderstanding of this point is that which
makes men now adaies to hasten away from their repentance.
Assoone as it hath brought them a little quiet and comfort,
they lay it aside, thinking it as unseemely as mourning
garments to a Bridal. And hereby it fares with them as it
doth with those sick persons, who, finding a little ease by the
medicine, presently give it over, and betake themselves to the
Aire, to Exercize, and to nourishing diet for the full recovery
of their health and strength ; but the effect Is cleane otherwise
then they expected. They either fell into a relapse, or con
tinue lingring in distempers. Whereas, would they have gone

IHS 215
through with the course perscribed by the Physitian, they
should have had, though not so soone, yet much more abundant
enjoyment of that pleasure and delight, for the greedlnes
whereof they put away the Physlck. Answerable without
question is the error and the event in the spiritual disease of
the soul. The pricepltatlon that we use upon our conversion
Is that which keeps us ever after so crazy ; wee think to gett
strength by attempting greater matters and hope to attaine joy
by carrying up of our affections to higher contemplations.
And because evill humours were not thoroughly purged, nor
the dead flesh quite eaten out by the corrosive of repentance,
our hands fall us In the performance, and our hearts faint us
upon every Temptation, and we walk a burden to ourselves by
continual heavines, a scandale to our Brethren by much frailty
and many fallings ; so discompting in a tenfold proportion
the shame and sorrow which we refused to make perfect in
our repentance, which certainly, if it be effectual to bring hope
out of dispalre, confidence out of shame, rejoicing out of grelf,
and good resolutions out of sin, would be a much more opera
tive medicine to encrease them, if it were, as it ought to be,
appHed to the full and to the last.
Cheeref. That the world shaU be afrayd of I wonder not,
it being, like Sampsons lion, very gastly to look upon. The
watchlngs, the Fastings, the Teares, the sighs, the sufferings,
that It Is clothed with, makes it appeare very dreadfull afarre
off. But they that have tasted the hony and found the
strength and the sweetnes that repentance swarmes with ;
that these, I say, should so childishly draw back through vaine
affrightment of others feares, rather then their own sence to
the contrary, and loose so much for want of making perfect
the work, seemes strange. And as it cannot but be a strong
delusion of the world, so undoubtedly It is a proof that they
who are thus beaten off remaine still more of the worlds partie
then themselves are aware of; and are at the best, however
they conceit themselves, but children in the faith of Christ,
which holy Faith, as it first began to be preached from this

2i6 IHS
point (for not not only John the Forerunner, but our Lord
himself began his Gospel with Repent), so undoubtedly It Is
StlU to this day grafted in mens heart upon this self-same stock,
and grows up and fructifies for the most part answerable to the
vigour and strength thereof. A sound repentance and
throughly performed, sends up a large and fruitfiiU shoot of
Faith. That it grows withered and weakly as It doth In most
mens hearts now adaies, proceeds cheifly from defect in the
foundation. A slight repentance cannot serve to nourish but
a starveling Faith. The better cultivating therefore of this
Plant of Repentance then Is usual in the world, is necessarie
not only for the encrease of Joy, but for the maintenance of
Truth. Affectio. You have so well amongst you explained that
which might seeme liable to exception In my storle, as from
henceforth I shall make no scruple to tell both parts together,
which till now I confesse I had ; not that I conceived any
thing amisse in it, but because I know the misconstruction
which these times use to make of all those things which are
above the pitch of their own reach.
Guard. The Commentarie is answerable to the Storle,
and the doctrine wlU, I am perswaded, seeme as strange to
common Judgement as the example. But that is no prejudice
to the truth, that it is not approved by the general vote of the
world, so it bee confirmed by evident proof of scripture and
constant practize of the Saints as this which hath been now
delivered appears to bee ; for I remember to have read that
St. Augustine confesseth himself to be ravished with the
delight that his teares bred by the sweetnes of them, making
gage of that infinite Joy which he hoped for. If it be so
sweet to weep here on Earth, what will it be to triumph in
heaven with Christ ? sayth hee. St. Hierome, writing to
Eustochia, tells her that sometimes after his many teares and
continued looking up to heaven he seemed to be in the midst
of the heavenly Quires, singing with great Jublle, Wee will
run after the pleasant savour of thy most precious Balme.

IHS 217
Mother. There is no more intended, I perceive, in this
argument, and therefore I beseech you, most honoured
Moderatour, that since you have had what you desired, you
would make good that which you promised.
MoDERAT. It was not forgetfulnes of my promise, but
study to performe it somewhat answerable to Expectation,
that hindered mee from presenting your demand by the tender
of my storie concerning the famous Ephraim, which Is recorded
in his life.
Affect. Is your Storle of that Ephraim, I pray, who not
to his own, but to the advancement of Gods glorie and the
Edification of the standers by, on his deathbed told them : I
have never In my life sworn by the Name of my God, nor
spoken filthy nor Idle word ; I have never cursed any man,
nor have had contention In law with any, and yet went
alwaies afflicted, often weeping and sighing for the great dread
and terror which he had of the day of judgement, the
remembrance whereof, as himself left written, was alwaies
present in his mind ? If this thought wrought so upon his
Innocency, what ought it to doe upon my guiltlnes ?
MoDER. This very Ephraim of whom you speak, having
upon these grounds which you mention, given himself, accor
ding to the manner of those times, to a solltarle life, comming
on a time to the Citty of Edessa, whither he often repaired to
benefitt himself by the conversation of good men, and to
endeavour himself the Conversion of Sinners ; as he travailed
full of these thoughts, drawing neer to the Citty, hee besought
God with much Entreaty that the first person that he should
encompter might be of furtherance to him in his holy pur
poses. With this hope he views the gates with much
solicitousnes, whether God had heard his prayer or no. He
meets a woman whom garish habit and wanton carriage
proclaimed to bee a strumpett. This falling out so contrary
to Expectation, he fixeth his Eie upon her with manifest shew
of Grelf and Indignation, which she perceiving, setts herself
with answerable Constancie and contempt, to view him.

2i8 IHS
Ephraim, doubly troubled for his own disappointment and her
Impudency, cries out aloud and angerly : Art thou not
ashamed, oh woman, to stand gazing and looking upon a
man ? Cast thine eie down to the ground, and look on that,
as befitts thee. To which she readily, and with great boldnes,
taxing him of that self same thing which he reproved her for,
made answere : It befitts me, that am a woman, to look upon
man, of whom I am, and of whose ribbe I was shaped ; but
thou, that art a man, oughtst to cast thine eies down to the
Earth, out of which thou wast taken and formed. Ephraim
hearing this, rested all amazed, thanking God for so wholesome
an Instruction ; and used often with much admiration to
recompt the Answere, wherein she had drawn out so com
pendious an Abstract of the. several duties of man and wife In
marriage, which then is made perfect to the height of vertue
and fulnes of comfort when the wlfes ele, by reducing all her
desires to the subjection of her husband, remaines immovably
fixed on him as her temporary end, and the man his eie being
alwaies fixed on the earth by the remembrance of his frail
beginning and end, exercizeth his Authoritie with humlUtie,
and takes his comforts with sobrletie.
Your turne, worthy Guardian, Is next.
Guard. My storle hath as great affinitie with the Cheere
fulls as this last had with the Affectionates. Its con
cerning the punishment of sin and the paines of HeU, though
in a more easy, yet in no lesse usefull manner represented to
our Consideration then they were by the storie of Martinian. —
There was a wise man, as his Neighboure calld him, and
a good Father as himself thought, that having many children,
and desirous to leave them well provided, had gathered a great
Estate in the world, and loaded his soiU with much guilt
before God. At last God opens his eies and shews him his
Error, and he concludes that he was a Foole In graine to loose
his own soul for any other bodies pleasure, and but an unkind
Father, that had heaped up Gods Curse for his Children.
Upon these thoughts he grows to a conclusion, that whatsoever

IHS 219
come he will make his Repentance perfect by Restitution.
And to make his children capable of the Necessitie of this
intended course, one Night as they satt at table round about
him, he thus bespake them : My sons, you know how much I
love you by that which I have done for you. Theres nothing
that I desire from you but love againe, and that I hope I shall
not want. How say you ? Hereupon they all began joyntly
to make large protestations of the greatnes of their obligation
and excesse of their affections. I am glad to heare this, sayd
the goodman ; but I desire withall to have some proof
whether the Effects will bee answerable to the words. They
besought him to tell what he would have done, and he should
see that their expression fell short of what was in their hearts.
That I shall require, sayd he, is only this. That you would each
of you one after the other hold his little Finger for a quarter
of an houre in the flame of the Candle there. His children,
hearing this, began to smile, supposing that their Fathers
dotage was a signe of his approaching death, whereby they
should come sooner then they thought to the enjoyment of
their own llbertle and his wealth. The Father, seeing they
made Hght of the matter, began with many entreaties and
much earnestnes to perswade them to It. But he speaks in
the Aire ; neither faire words nor threats could perswade them
to such a madness, as they termed it. Why then, sayd hee,
yourselves be the Judges whether it were wisedome for mee to
goe down quick into hell, and to ly there for your sakes
burning in unquenchable flames from head to foot, world
without end. Nay, verily, by Gods grace It shall not be so.
Ile restore what I have unjustly gott, and make amends
where I have done wrong ; and If I leave you not the wealth
of the world, I shall leave you (if yourselves turn it not
away) Gods blessing, which Is a farre surer portion and better
Inheritance. Patient. It was a wise remonstrance and happy returne,
and worthy to be imitated by all Parents in the like case. That
a Father should leave his children on the Parish through riot

220 I H S
or any kind of unthrlftlnes or NegUgence, is such a crime as
makes him more then an Infidel. But If doing what he ought
he cannot advance much in worldly Provisions for them. It
matters not at all. God Is faithfuU, and will some other way
make supply for his children. Let every good Father build
on this, and for himself, so he have not failed In that diligence
which he was bound to in this kind, hee may without any
feare at all depart the world, though he leave nothing behind
him, knowing that God will not call him to accompt for the
portions, but for the breeding which he gave his children. If
he bring a good Inventorie of spiritual graces and vertues, by
his care and paines conveyed to his Children, he shall have the
reward of a good Father, ever to be proclaimed, as Abraham
was, Gods Freind. But If otherwise (whatever the world
perswade him), he will be found what he least feares perhaps,
not only no good Father, but a Denyer of the Christian Faith,
which teacheth that hee that first seeks not the kingdome of
heaven for himself and for those who are under his charge,
seeks It not at all, nor may with any reason ever hope to have
a part in it, till he change his opinion In this point. But I
doe wrong by this discourse, which will hereafter find a fitter
place, to Interupt the present busines. Pardon mee, I beseech
you, worthy. Guardian, and proceed.
Guardian. My Storle Is at an end.
Mother. Why then, goe to the second.
Guardian. Doe you look for two at once ?
Affect. If you make not double payment now you pay
us not the full, but will remaine in arreare, either for this
present day or the last, which was against the covenant that
wee made at first. That our honoured Moderatour so ment,
is plaine by her Example.
Guardian. Since you have reason and president for It, I
cannot bee against it, although not so well provided as I wish
to performe it. Let mee see ; Sir Thomas Mores storie suites
so well, that lie seek no further.
At a certaine Faire (I know not whether it were Sturbridge

IHS 221
or no) there happened to arise a Contraversle between a North
countryman and a Londoner. Being brgught instantly to
trial in a Pyponder Court (if I mistake not the Name) the
Jury, whether by contrivement or accident, proved all, save one
Southerne Man, to be the North-country-mans acquaintance
and Neighbours, whereupon with little adoe they all resolved,
having an Ele rather to Freindship then to Justice, to find for
him, being the plaintlfe. Lets goe then, quoth the Foreman,
since wee are all agreed. Nay, stay, I pray, Mr. Dickenson
(that was his name), sayd the Southerne Jurer ; mee thinks
both reason and law are on the defendants part. With that
they all fell upon him, as an Oule in an ivle bush. With what
doe your two eies see more than our two and twenty ? Not so,
quoth the goodman, I presume not to be wiser In understanding,
but I am carefull to doe nothing against my conscience. Why,
have not wee consciences too ? replyed they all joyntly. I will
not judge your consciences, sayd hee, and I must desire you to
satisfy mine, before I give up the verdict with you. With that
some of them fell a reasoning the matter. But the Foreman,
knowing that bad causes loose alwaies by debating, shuffling all
up, prayd the southern man not to enter now upon arguments,
nor stand mlnslng of conscience, but like a good fellow to goe
along with them for company. You say well, replyed the
honest man. If there went no more on the busines then so.
But you know that wee must all at last and altogether come
before Gods judgement-seat, and If wee doe, having done
according to our own consciences. I hope, sayd the company,
wee shall doe well enough. True, replied he, but what shall
become of mee, that doe against my conscience ? Mee thinks
I now see how it will be. You are called up to heaven, and I
am cast down to hell, and then I cry out to you. Oh, Mr.
Dickenson, see what befalls mee now for your sake ; because I
went for company with you at the giving up of such a verdict
against mine own conscience, I am now going to hell ; I pray,
according to promise and good freindship, goe now along with
mee. Will you then bee as good as your word ? No,

222 IHS
verily, you meane It not, I am sure, at present, and much lesse
would doe It then. Hold you therefore, I pray, contented. If I
part company with you In this busines, that wee may not then
part upon worse termes.
Affect. This is a storie that every day will be usefuU and
appliable, there being, as I suppose, no one more ordinarie
argument of misleading to be found both In small and great
matters then this of going along in company with others in
our opinions, in our desires, and in our Actions ; and for the
most part how much better natured any man is, the greater is
the danger. It seemes impossible to stand either with modestie
or Love for a man to goe another way then his freinds or betters
take. And yet if he goes against his own Conscience he takes
the broad way to Hell. The best freind in the world will
leave a man at the grave, and yet the very slightest acquaintance
takes great offence if a man run not headlong to the DeviU to
keep their goodwills. Hee that will sell his freindship at this
rate, let him keep it for mee. As farre as we may goe in Gods
Name, let us goe together. But to part with our interest in
God for the best Company in the world, and to renotmce our
own part in everlasting happines for any other bodies earthly
pleasures too, is such an height of madnes and mlserle as no
man durst require of another, but that he is himself, and thinks
him from whom he expects such kindnes, to be an Infidel.
Guard. Your descant sounds right in mine Eares, deare
Affectionate. Hee that truly beleives HeU cannot but be
afrayd of going to HeU himself, and ashamed to urge any
other to goe thither for his sake. He that truly beleives It, as
Lais and Pelagla did, makes light all other losse and sufferings
to escape that.
Mother. I understand your meaning. Where did I
leave ?
Cheeref. Why, at that point which, both for us and this
approaching Festival, is perhaps of all others the most necessarie
to begin with. I mean that by the example of Nonnus his
sobrletie, wee should think of regulating our forepassed excesses,

IHS 223
reducing our corporal Feastings upon spiritual occasions to that
proportion and temper, both for quantitie and qualitie of Food,
as may serve to the cheering up and quickening of the heart,
not to the deading of the spirits ; so that our devotions and
not our Lusts may receive heat and vigour.
Mother. That which you shall now heare will confirme
the necessity of this practize. That when wee give our selves
to outward rejoycing, we ought to stand more warily upon
our Inward guard, and to be doubly heedfull no wales so to
discompose our selves, but that upon the first Alarum wee may
be ready with our spiritual Armes to encompter our Enemy,
who alwaies goes about like a roaring Lion seeking to devoure.
And if he cannot hope so much, yet will he not fail to doe his
uttermost, at least disturbe and contaminate our mirth when
ever wee sett our selves to the partaking thereof, such a cancred
Adversarle Is he to all that which brings content to man.
Holy Nonnus Is scarce settled to his wine and his oile (those
were the dainties that made his meal a Banquett) when all is
interrupted by an unbidden and unwelcome guest. The
DevlU come in naked, and in a dreadful shape, and after
hideous murmurings, as if he suffered some great violence,
upbraldes and reviles the blessed Saint, calling him decreplde
and doting old man. What, sayth the enraged spirit, can
it not suffice thee to have taken 30,000 Sarazens, and to have
offered them up to thy God ? Can It not suffice thee to have
driven mee out of Heliopolis, mine own Jurisdiction, and to
have turned the Inhabitants thereof, that were so devoted to my
service, to the worshipping of thine own God, but thou must
now at last strip mee of this Remainder of my hopes, by whose
meanes such an excesse grew every day to my kingdome ?
Cursed be the day of thy Birth, and cursed be that floud of
Teares wherewith thou hast overthrown the foundation of my
dwelling, this pillar of my hopes. I can neither beare nor resist
the mischief that this wretched old man doth mee. This (sayth
the Authour) the Devill roared with such loud yeUings, that the
other Bishops and Pelagla in their general apartements under-

224 IHS
stood it all, Nonnus, being neither moved nor amated with
any of that which he saw or heard, the Devill instantly
addresseth himself to Pelagla, and blasphemously taxeth her
to have dealt with him as Judas did with Christ, selling him
to his Enemies hands in recompence of all those Honours and
favours which she had received of him. Pelagia, being taught
and heartened by her spiritual mother and holy Nonnus,
recommendeth herself to Christ and defies the Tempter, and
he for that time vanisheth. But two Nights after he comes
to her againe, as she was in bed with Romana. He wakes her
and demands wherein he had been wanting to her that she had
so unkindly abandoned him. Hee setts before her eies the
riches, the pleasures, the honours, whereof by his meanes she
had been possessor and partaker, and offers largely to content
her In whatsoever she could wish, if so bee she would now
vindicate him from that scorn and contempt would be put
upon him by the Christians through her conversion to the
Faith. But wise Pelagla defies him and his offers, and tells
him she had given herself wholly to Christ Jesus, who had
done so much and so many things for her as could not be
recompted, Hee hath ransomed mee out of thy power, sayd
she, and hath lead me into his own heavenly Chamber, the
holy militant church. He shaU fight for mee, and deliver mee
from thy malice and thy wiles. With this the wicked spirit
departed, and Pelagia, upon Romanas waking, tells her both
of her danger and her victorie. Romana encourageth her to
proceed with Faith and good hope, assuring her that, being so
armed, the DevlU should be afrayd to come neer her, much
lesse to doe her any harme. The next morning, Pelagla,
sending for her steward, wills him to make a perfect Inventorie
of her Estate ; which, being accordingly brought her in
writing, she makes tender thereof to Nonnus. See here.
Father, sayd shee, the wealth that I have gotten by the
Factorie of the Devill. I beseech thee, let It be disposed of
to better uses. As for mee, the Treasures of my Lord Jesus
Christ are sufficient ; other riches I desire not. Then caUing

IHS 225
her Familie, both men and women, she made them all free,
and, with liberal gifts, gave them hearty and wholesome
exhortations to be partakers and Imitators of her repentance,
as they had been partners and Instruments In her unrighteousnes.
As for the remainder of her Estate, holy Nonnus, sending for
the chelf officer of the Church of Antioch, consigned it all
into his hands with this Charge. I abjure thee (sayd hee) by
God, to look well that no parcel of this wealth be converted
to thine own use, nor that any of it be imployed about the
Church in ornaments or otherwise ; but that it be wholly and
faithfully distributed amongst widdows, orphanes, and other
poore people, that so it may at last prove beneficial in the
spending that was gathered together with so much sin and
damage, as thou knowest. The consideration of this undue
getting so affected Pelagla, as she rather chose to live of Aimes
then to keep any thing of her former wealth towards her future
maintenance. The eight day being come, this holy convert,
putting off the white garment with which, after the custome
of those times, she had been apparelled at her Baptlsme, dls-
guiseth herself, and to prevent all hinderances not acquainting
any whosoever, departs secretly In the Night to put in
Execution a strange attempt, and such as before hers, wee shall,
it may bee, scarce find a President for. The good Romana,
next day missing her, grows much perplexed. Her Love
makes her sorry she had lost Pelaglas Company ; her Experience
of mans frailtie makes her feare the devill had circumvented
her. But Nonnus bids her bee of good cheere. Daughter
(sayth hee), there Is no cause of mourning for Pelagla, but the
contrary. She Is safe, and, with Mary Magdalene, hath chosen
the better part, which shall not be taken from her. Shortly
after this the Bishops meeting brake up, and everyone returned
to their own homes, without any Inkling, though much diligence
had been perhaps used to know, what was become of Pelagla.
At three yeares end, sayth the Authour, I my self having an
earnest desire to goe up to Hierusalem, asked leave of Nonnus
to this purpose ; whereunto he wiUingly condescended, and,
16

226 IHS
upon parting, sayd unto mee. Brother James, when thou
comest to Hierusalem, enquire amongst those that Uve solitaries
for one Pelagius, and visit him on my behalf ; verily, thou
shalt find a great servant of God. I forgat not this charge,
sayth the Authour, but when I came to Hierusalem began to
ask for Pelagius, and was Immediately directed to his little
habitation, which was on mount Olivet. Comming thither
and knocking, Pelagius opened his window (for other entrance
there was none) and demanded what I would. I come, sayd
I, from Nonnus, the Bishop of Heliopolis. A holy man
indeed, sayd Pelagius, and as It were another Apostle. Beseech
him to pray for mee, and doe thou likewise. Brother Deacon,
remember mee in thy Prayers to God. I was not a little
amazed to heare these particulars, both of my self and my
Bishop, being no waies able to call to mind that I had ever seen
this holy person, whose pale visage, hollow eies, wan lips, and
rivelled cheeks seemed to mee to represent the Image of Death.
Our Discourse ended, sayth the Authour, Pelagius shut the
window and withdrew to prayers, and I came away much
edified by this angelical spectacle. Afterwards, sayth hee,
I visited many other devout persons, who all bare ample
Testlmonle of the exceeding grace of God that was in
Pelagius the Eunuch, so they called him. But whence
he came, or who he should bee, nobody could tell. Being
thus full, not only of love but admiration to this unknown
Saint, I determined, sayth the Authour, to vlsite him once
againe, and to enjoy a Httle more of his heavenly conversation.
But when I had knocked one or twice and saw no answere
given, supposing the Intention of his Devotion to be the cause
of his silence, and not meaning to bee troublesome, I went away
for that time, returning the next day at a convenient houre.
As I cast It but with no better speed then at first, the third
day I came againe, and, after knocking and calling, perceiving
upon diligent Attention no manner of motion or noise from
within, I began to suspect that aU was not well, and so, taking
heart, thrust ope the window forcibly. This done, I, looking

I HS

227

in, saw Pelagius lie dead upon the flore. Of this I gave instant
notice, and thereupon not only all the Professors of the self
same course of life, but many other people, came running from
Hierusalem, who, with joynt consent, brake down the dore,
and after many teares bestrawed upon the body, they took it up
to fitt it for the grave ; which they had no sooner begun to doe
but they perceived that it was a woman. Hereupon they all
lift up their voices together with cries and teares, magnifying
the Divine power and wisedome, saying. Glory be to thee, oh
God, who hast so many hidden treasures upon Earth, not only
amongst men, but amongst women also. Upon this, drawing
neere, sayth the Authour, I began with better heed to advise
the face, and immediately knew it to be that of Pelagia, the
strangenes of the alteration being that which had formerly
deceived iriee. Hereupon I made known her conversion and
all that you have heard related, sayth the Authour ; which,
doubling the affections and wonderment on all hands, brought
an infinite Number of people to her Funeral, which was
performed with great joy and igreat honour, as was meet for
her that had perfected holines in the Feare of God here on
earth, and was now made perfect by God in everlasting
happines as touching her soul, with assurances that her body
likewise should. In due time, ascend to the participation of the
self-same joy and glory.
Guard. Your Storie Is mounted so high by admiration,
that it passeth the reach either of censure or application.
Mother. And well doth one that writes It, though in breif,
conclude with an allusion to the Name of Pelagla, That In her
a man may well and worthily admire the Ocean of the Divine
Judgement. Guard. Then belike you have more then your Relatours
Authoritie, which you have so often mentioned.
Mother. Theres so manifold and so good Authoritie, as
I have heard for the proof of this storie (at least, that which
I cheifly insist upon, thats the first part), as mee thinks it should
be a harder matter to doubt it then to beleive it. But let every

228 IHS
one think as they please, so they give mee leave to think that
Nonnus his influence upon Pelagia her great diUgence in
adorning her body was right and necessary for us all that
pretend to have our loves in heaven, and to say to my self and
you, that wee have no reason with any confidence to look up
to God and our Lord Jesus Christ as the spouse of our souls,
except wee bee as carefull to put on those spiritual ablUments,
which may make us lovely in his eies, as earthly women are to
trimme and dock their bodies to the liking of their earthly
Lovers. Surely, whatever the world think, as Christ deserves
no lesse, so neither will he accept lesse then the uttermost of
our diligence and care in this behalf ; which, God grant, wee
may henceforth faithfully imploy, that wee which are called
to be heavenly may shew our selves heavenly, as they which are
earthy doe approve themselves to be earthy.
Guard. Wee all joyne with you, both in opinion and
desire, touching this matter. But why, I pray, doe you so
abandon the second part of your story, disavowing the main
tenance before you heare any opposition ?
Mother. I abandon it not as any way faulty, either for
point of truth or vertue ; but because I see no special useflilnes
in it to the present busines, I would be loth to contend, if any
should call It In question, as perhaps some may, to whom the
Devils apparition and discourse will seeme scarce probable.
Patient. Why, verily, it seems strange to mee that these
like passages should so hardly gett credit in these latter times,
wherein there are every day so many certaine proofs and
experiments of them. Amongst all the rest which wee have
heard read, that of Mary Smith, of Kings Lin, In Norfolk,
suits marvelously with that which you have related touching
the Devills assaulting and endeavouring to seduce Pelagia.
Two several times the Devill appeares to her in prison in the
shape of a black man, and the last of these two times he had a
paire of homes on his head, and that was as she was comming
down the stalres to conferre and pray with some Divines. His
Counsell to her was, that she should confesse nothing to any of

IHS 229
them, but continue constant In her made promise, rely upon
him, and he would save her. That this could not be a fancy
in Mary Smiths apprehension, the manner of her end approves
beyond exception. That it should not be a made tale of any
other, but truly reported by her self, the Fldelitle of the
Authour that wrott It, and the Confirmation of so many
witnesses as he alledgeth, forbids any ingenious mind to have
any suspicion.
Modera. Surely theres a great resemblance of the Devills
proceedings in these two Stories, and so is there Ukewise of
Gods Infinite mercy. Mary Smiths end may be admired as
a Sea and Abisse of the Divine Judgement as well as Pelaglas.
She made an open confession of her sins, shewed hearty
repentance, for them. She renounced the Devill and defied
him, and found both shelter and comfort In her recourse to
Christ. She made a good profession of her faith, and shewed
the proof of a good hope in her wilUngnes to dy, when she
might have lived longer. When she was offered a reprelve she
refused It, and made choise of Instant Execution, no wales, as
It seemes, out of dispalre and wearines of this present life, but
out of the desire and hope of Immediate entring Into a better.
He that shall weigh these things rightly, and give those
allowances which are due on both sides, shall find that propor
tionably theres no lesse ground of wonderment In this story
of Mary Smith then in that which hath been recompted of
Pelagia. Guard. The apparitions and assaults of the Devill to
recover those which have been his especial instruments, have
been notably confirmed by this late and fresh Example. But
mee thinks his longsome discourse, and, above all, his blas
phemous comparisons, as It is very mistrustfuU to heare, so It
carries some difficultie to believe.
Mother. What would you have thought if I had told it
out as large and full as It Is sett down in the story itself ? The
detestation which I see affects you made mee abridge It much,
but leave it out altogether I durst not, having no diffidence of

230 IHS
the truth, and thinking it the more observable in regard of
another passage very like, as mee thinks, and very lately added
by the same Author, the Devill I meane, which I am sure you
cannot forgett.
Patient. Wee cannot call to mind what It should be that
you intend, and therefore desire you would declare It at large,
as If It were altogether new.
Mother. Why, It was out of our supper readings, as the
other additions have been. And the particular which I meane
Is that of James Devize, doubly confirmed by him upon two
several examinations, and this it is. The DevUl did often, and
with much Importunitle, In the llkenes of a brown dog, soUclt
this James Devize to give him his soul, thereupon
promising that hee should have power to be revenged of whom
he would. James Devize his answere or excuse (I know not
well what to terme it) was, That his soul was not his own to
give, but was his Saviour Jesus Christs ; but as much as
was in him to give he was content that he should have It. But
this reservation pleased not the DeviU. He presseth him
againe and againe ; and having still the same answere from
this wretched man, to wltt, that he would give him his own
part, and no fiirther, the spirit of blasphemie tells him that he
was above Christ Jesus, and therefore must absolutely give
him his soul, and then he would give him power to revenge
himself against whom he disliked. The last time that the
Devill appeared about this negociation was the Tuesday before
Devizes apprehension ; and when he could not prevaile with
him to have his soule absolutely granted unto him, he departed
from him, giving a most fearfuU cry and yell, and withall
caused a great flash of fire to shew about him, but afterwardes
troubled him no more.
Moder. a strange passage, undoubtedly, and as in many
other respects very observable and appliable, so surely to this
purpose which you have alledged it. To sett forth the impotencie
of Ambition and Affection that Belial hath, to make competi
tion, as I may say, in everything with Christ Jesus, But

IHS

231

what shall we say ? that the apparition of evill spirits to wicked
persons being so frequent even now adaies, the apparition of
good Angels and divine visions to good men is grown so rare,
as scarce one or two examples are to be found In a whole Age.
The purltle of our Religion for point of Doctrine being equal,
as wee are taught, If not above most of those times wherein
such favours abounded, should seeme to make us capable as they
were, Cheeref. That the light of the Gospel drives away the
spirits of darknes and abates their power I have often heard
given as a reason of our freedome from those many delusions
with which our Forefathers were vexed by the Devill ; but
then mee thinks it should withaU bring us into better
acquaintance with those holy Spirits which, as the blessed
Apostles of our Lord teach us, are continual admirers of the
Gospel and constant Attendants of the true Professors thereof.
Guard. It is not for us to enter into such high points;
but to tell you what I have heard for a reason, and shall think
a good one, till I know a better : It is the want of true
practize of that holy truth which wee professe that debarres
these times of ours from this kind of honour and consolation.
If you make the Assessement by knowledge and sound doctrine,
the world Is rich of good men ; but If by vertue and holines,
you shall, I am afrayd, find It such a bankrupt as never was the
like. Who can give mee a Saint amongst those many
thousands of beleivers which he knows ? And if he give mee
one, and he himself dares take the title, yet if you lay his
holines by the patterns of old, your self will suspect it is scarce
right, such a difference will appear both in the substance and
the lustre. And shall we then marvell that the Angels, Gods
special ministers, should walk so Invisible to us, when wee walk
so Imperfectly, so Insincerely with God, their and our great
Master ? Wee must goe altogether out of the world in our
Affections before wee can enter upon these Earnests of heaven;
and bid adue to all confidence in meanes, all consolation In
things below, all love of ourselves, before wee look for such

232 IHS
familiarity of Love, comfort, and assistance from the Inhabitants
of heaven. They are as ready now, I am perswaded, if wee
would meet them half way, as the Saints did in old time, by
setting their affections on things above. But to come down
quite to the Earth, where wee ly groveling, were too great an
Indlgnltle for them, and would bee too dangerous a confirmation
of our Error.
Affect. That which you have now deUvered, worthy
Guardian, seemes so much the more consonant to truth in
my judgement as I see it answerable to that which I have
heard and read touching this matter. There have not wanted,
through Gods infinite mercy. In these last and evill dales of
ours, some notable examples In this kind, amongst which that
of Mrs. Catherine Stubs deserves, perhaps, both for the
certaintle and all other respects, to be held amongst the
cheifest. It seemes by her speech and behaviour that the
Devill did visibly appeare unto her in some dreadfuU shape.
Certain it is that he did sorely combate her, and was driven
away by the sword of the spirit. Every argument that she
useth, and almost every word, is out of Scripture. With these
Armes she contesteth with Satan, with these she defends her
self from all his fiery darts, with these she beates him, yet he
flies away like a beaten Cock, as her self termes It. But what
ever the Devills appearance was, whether to the eie of the
body or the mind only. Its plaine that the vision of the holy
Angels was real and evident, both to the flesh and to the
spirit. Oh, would to God you saw but that I see, sayd she to
them that were about her ; for behold, I see infinite millions
of most glorious Angels stand about mee, with fiery charriots
ready to defend mee, as they did the good Prophet Elizeus.
These holy Angels, these ministering spirits, are appointed by
God to carry up my soul into the kingdom of heaven, where I
shall behold the Lord face to face, and shall see him not with
other, but with these same eies. The rest of her discourse is
very remarkable, and cleares all suspicion that what she appre
hended was by certain eieslght, and not by beguiled

IHS 233
Imagination. But neither she nor any of those others which
we have heard of were thought worthy of this honour and
comfort till they had utterly renounced all their Interest and
dependencies on this world. You know the solemne FareweU
that she gave to aU earthly things before she had this earnest,
and anticipated welcome to heaven. She bequeathes her child
to her husband, and tells him, Hee Is no longer mine, he is the
Lords and yours. I forsake him, you, and all the world, yea,
and mine own self, and esteeme all things but dung that I may
wlnne Christ Jesus.
Patient. That a Soul thus refined and purified from the
drosse of corruptible Affections should invest the bodily facul
ties with the power of discerning spiritual objects, seemes not
unproportlonable to reason, as It appeares very agreable to
experience, there being perhaps many other instances to be
brought of them who, upon the like disposition of mind to that
of Catherine Stubs, have upon their deathbeds testified to have
been made partaker of the Uke consolation. But whether the
want of this perfection of holines be the cause that so few now
In their lifes time are thought worthy or capable of those kind
of heavenly visions. Is too deep a ford for us to adventure upon
the determination. Wherefore, seeing you are. It may be, un
willing to passe so abruptly from this discourse of this holy
woman, let mee, I pray, remember you of that other passage
which immediately follows in the story upon that which last
recompted, affording, as mee thinkes, consideration very weighty
and proper both for the times and this present subject wee are
upon. The child being taken away, she espied a little puppy
or bitch, which In her health she loved well, lying upon her
bed. She had no sooner espyed her, but shee beat her away,
and calling her husband to her, sayd, Good Husband, you and I
have offended God greivously in receiving this bitch many a
time Into our bed. Wee would have been loth to have
received a Christian soul purchased with the precious bloud of
Jesus Christ into our bed, and to have nourished him in our
bosomes and to have fed him at our table as wee have done

234 IHS
this filthy curre many times. The Lord give mee grace to
repent it and all other vanities. And afterward could she not
abide to look upon the bitch any more. I have told it you in
the very words of the book, thinking it not fitt to make any
alteration in a matter of such consequence.
Cheeref. It is doubtlesse a passage of great moment to shew
the issue that all vaine delights have, turning in the end to
anguish and vexation of spirit.
Affect. And it Is a Uvely instance of the tendernes of a
good conscience that finds great guilt In It self upon little
offences. Mother. How dare you call It a little offence which she
her self censureth to have been a great one ! Her opinion is
plaine to the contrary, and her argument invincible. He that
cannot find In his heart to shew his Christian brother that love
and kindnes which he shews to his beast, must needs grant
that he loves his own sensual delight better then Christs
satisfaction. If that very Proverb which they have so ready
in their mouths to prevent all opposition to their vanities. Love
mee and love my dog, serves to evince this truth beyond all
possibility of denial, they break of friendship with him that
will not for their sakes love that which is odious, heare that
which is intolerable, and make much of that which is naught
worth. All this is to be done and more to gentlefolks dogs,
and yet will have us beleive that they keep their love and their
honour and their allegiance to Christ Jesus our Lord intire
and untainted in the contempt and neglect and injuries of his
lively members. Offer a great Lady that bestows every day
a hundred kisses on her dog, and receives as many from him, a
poore mans child to kisse, and she starts back as if an Adder
were ready to leap upon her ; and yet she cannot deny but that
the child is farre more deare to Christ then her dog can be to
her, nor can she make any doubt but that Christ, If he
were present, would embrace him with the Armes of his glorie.
Bring a poore naked pereon into a great mans roome, where
a dog stands pearchlng at the trencher, and see what a hubbub

IHS 235
wUl arise ; and yet theres no question made but Christ
comes along with the poore Man, and feels himself both the
good and evill entertainment which that other receives.
St. James will by no meanes allow that the rich man, in
his gay clothes and gold ring, should be preferred in our affec
tions before the poore man In vile rayment. And what will
the setting of those affections, the shewing of that kindnes, the
taking, the bestowing of that cost on our dogs, which wee doe
not, wee cannot afford the lively members of Christ Jesus,
amount unto in his judgement, think you ? Let them turn
and mince and colour the matter to the uttermost that witt
and art and eloquence can devise, and yet it will not In the
end be found lesse then the having no respect at all to the
faith of Christ, no, not to the majestie of God neither. Mark
well, and you shall see a strange Irreligiousnes accompany this
humour. Their dogs must goe along to church and there
play with them. Theres the greatest of their own devotion,
a continual disturbance to others. Such an Insolency as I am
perswaded the most sottish of the heathen durst never offer to
their dunghlU gods. And is our Lord Jesus Christ and his
service only worthy of such affront, that wee cannot forbeare
our own wanton delights in our dogs ; no, nor forbid our dogs
theirs in their friskings, barkings, lickings and kissings, whilest
his worship is in solemne performance ? Is It the dog, think
you, or the DevlU, rather, that stands pawing upon the hands
that are joyntly stretched out In supplications, that Hes slaver
ing the Ups that are sounding out Gods prayses, and oftimes
with the brush of his taile interrupting the veiw of heaven
from the eies that are lifted up unto It ? You see to what a
height this sin grows unto. They quickly come to sett at
light the Devine Majestie it self, that so much forgett the
Nobility of humane Nature as to make more of a dog then a
man. It is not meet, sayth our Saviour, to take the childrens
bread and give unto dogs. The crums that fall from the table
ought to serve their turns. Those superfluities of our tables
and affections which cannot be converted to the use of man

236 IHS
may be perhaps afforded to dogs, and thats aU that Christs
doctrine allows. But to give them any part, much more pre
cedencle of that which belongs to men ; to feed them, to cloth
them, to tend them, to provide for their ease, their cleannes,
their ornament, to bestow our time, our paines, our thoughts,
that they may be sweet, fei re, precious dogs, worthy of our
Love, fitting for delight, acceptable and uncontroulable In all
companies ; whilest In the meane space the poore membere of
Christ perish for want of food, rayment, and harbour Is such a
contradiction not only to that particular rule which Christ
Jesus gave in this matter, but to the very foundation of his
religion, as If any dare pretend to make any reconciliation In
this point, wee may boldly shutt him off with St. Pauls
censure. He Is proud, and knows nothing.
Cheeref, Undoubtedly he knows but a little of Christs
mind that thinks Christ will allow the wast of any Love or
Cost upon our dogs, or any other such like cattle, for our
pleasures sake, Christs advise is that the overflowings of our
affections and estates should be derived upon the poore and
needy, rather then upon our freinds and kindred ; how much
then will he resent the divereion of them upon vile beasts ?
What excuse will they render to him for their lavish cost and
kindnes unto dogs, who, upon mention of the poores Necessitie,
made an apologie for a little extraordinarie cost and kindnes
that was bestowed upon his own body ?
Affection. Surely they must have some other advocate
then the spirit of God, and goe upon some other Law then the
Gospel that hope to carry out this matter at the great day of
tryal. Catherine Stubs puts hereelf upon mercy, and seeks by
repentance to cleare her guilt. They that dare stand upon
Justification may have better heart than she had ; I doubt
they will not have so good successe to have the Angels come
down to fetch them up to heaven. I am now altogether ot
her mind, that it was a greivous offence ; and though I am
ashamed of mine error that I thought otherwise, yet am I glad
that I made it known, whereby this discourse hath followed to

IHS 237
the rectification of mine own and perhaps of some others minds
too, who, it may be, as I did, looking upon the Excellencle of
other vertues In her, may be perswaded to think this a lighter
or lesse dangerous Exorbitancie then Indeed It is. Her example
can be no colour for any bodies Imitation that heares her con
fession and detestation of this sin at last. She could not abide
to look upon the Bitch after she well bethought her of the Love
she had born and the kindnes she had shewed more then she
would willingly have afforded many a Christian Soul. Thats
all (that nobody may mistake) which she accuseth her self of,
that she would have been loth, not that she would not at all
have done as much for Christs members. I am perswaded
that If experiment had been made, she durst not respectively
have done lesse for the least of them that belong to Christ
then she did to the bitch. She durst not have refused to admit
them, not to her table only, but to her cup ; to receive them,
not only to her bosome, but into her heart, and to goe out of
her bed for them, if it were not fitt to take them into it.
That which she laments is, that she could not have done this
so cheerfully to the poore for Christ his sake, as shee did it
for her own lust to a filthy curre, as she termed It.
Cheeref. And verily there was great reason ; for the truth
of our Love to Christ, both for substance and measure. Is to
be found by the Nature and manner of our Love to his
members here below. Hee that loves Christ with all his
heart hath, with David, all his delight in the Saints on earth
and upon such as excell In vertue, and thinks nothing els
worthy either of Love or Honour. Ile give you a proof of
this by an admirable Example which I lately read. And
because I find it so well sett down, as It cannot be mended
lie give it you in the very words of the Authour : —
Ingo, King of the Draves and Venades, after his converelon
to the Christian Faith, making a stately Feast, not as
Ahashuerus, to shew the bounty of his own, but the glorie
of Christs kingdome, sett all his Nobles, which were at that
time Pagans and unconverted to the Christian Faith, in his

238 I H S
Hall below, and certaine poore Christians in his Presence-
Chamber with hlmselt, with kingly Cheare and Attendants ;
at which they wondering, he told them. This he did, not as
King of the Draves, but as King of another world, wherein
these were his consorts and fellow-Princes ; these he saw
with a spiritual ele clad In white robes and worthy his
company. To them he would give civil due In the regiment
of the Commonwealth ; but those he must love and honour in
his heart, as beloved and honoured of God,
Mother. No Discant can adde grace to the plaine song
of this story.
Guard, Yet give mee leave to paire it with another very
proper to the subject wee are on : — Amadeus, Duke of Savoy,
Grand child to him who for his vertues was chosen Pope, bore
with great Patience the falHng sicknes with which It pleased
God to exercize him all his life long. One day certaine
Embassadors of other Princes, upon discouree it may be of
their Masters pleasures, besought him to see his dogs of chase.
Tomorrow (sayd he) if you come lie give you satisfaction.
The Embassadors failed not at the appointed houre, and the
Duke that was provided lead them forth Into a Gallerie, out
of which he shewed them, pointing with a little rod that he
held in his hand, a very great number of poore people sett at
meat, and served both with plenty and decencie. These, my
Masters (sayth he), are the hounds which I keep, every day
feeding them as you now see, and with them I hunt, not for
corruptible dainties and sports, but for eternal glorie and
happines. Mother. Well, then, 1 perceive as long as there be poore
and vertuous people in the world, theres no place for dogs of
Pastime in the heart of a wise Christian ; no, nor In his house
neither, but under the table. Your Storle and your Arguments
amount to as much. As for Mre. Stubs, the sure Answere in
my Judgement will bee, that what she did amisse in this kind
she did put of Ignorance and want of consideration, which he
that shall here have repentance, cannot pretend. If any think

IHS 239
it strange that such darknes as this error includes should
remaine In such an illuminated understanding as she alwaies
seemed to have, let him remember that the best of our Per
fection In this world is but like that of the Moone, whose
lightsome orbe is blemished with many dark and black spots.
Theres no such absolute purltle In understanding and affections
whilest wee are here below, but that there will be ever found
some admixture of Error in both. Assoone as It Is discovered
It must be detested ; thats necessarie. We cannot willingly
entertaine the least sin without breach of Freindship with God.
But for whatsoever Is unwittingly done amisse, theres abundance
of mercy with God to passe by It, and excellencle of wisedome
to extract both our own and others Good out of it. Take the
present Instance into consideration, and you shall find It as I
say. Mrs. Catherine Stubs is made humble by that remem
brance of her Error, and so becomes more capable of the
Divine Consolation which she was to enjoy. Wee are made
wiser by her Error, and come better to know the heinousnes
of it by her confession and repentance then we could have
done by any others admonitions that were Innocent. God
suffers this sin In her practize a while, that It might appeare
more sinfull in the end by her censure and condemnation.
They that think her a Saint must beleive what she sayd by the
Spirit of God instructing her, and not follow what she did
through the evill example of the world misleading her. And
so. If It please you, let us give an end to this present matter and
this daies work.
Guard. Not so, I pray. The good successe of my first
motion this day touching the perfection of those two Stories
which were last day left unperfect, makes mee think It cannot
prove amisse to desire from our Moderatour the fulfilment of
that admirable storie of the Fourty Martyrs for which she hath
been beyond all reason a longsome Debitor to us.
Affect. A story of Martyrs began this Festival, and no
story more proper to conclude It. Martyrdome is a condition
that belongs to all Saints, if not in full Act, in faithfuU

240 IHS
Resolution. There is no man may hope to enter the
Kingdome of heaven that is not at a point to lay down his
life for the purchase of it.
Moder. I shall willingly doe what you request, and so
much the rather as besides that which you expect touching the
Martyrs, you shall heare that of a Mother, which will make
my story doubly sutable and usefull.
As the Guardians profession of the Christian Faith, and
making himself partner in their sufferings brought matter of
joy to the Martyrs all night long, so it bred much greif next
morning amongst the heathen. They saw a double shame to
their Religion In what had happened. He that came to it in
hope of Life dyed, and he that went from it made it to be
worse then death. Hereupon Agricola, to make a short end of
that which he was afrayd might turn to further damage,
enragedly commands to take the Saints out of the water, and
after the breaking of their legs, wills their bodies to be burned.
The breaking of their legs gave end both to paine and life.
As the blows descend their souls mount up to their wished
happines, and as they part they sing. Our soul is escaped as a
bird out of the snare of the fowler ; the snare is broken, and wee
are delivered. Only one, the yongest and the strongest,
Melliton by name, remaines yet alive, and him the execu
tioners (whether out of compassion or out of designe, I know
not) resolve to leave behind. AU the rest of the bodies they
fling up into certaine cartes, and begin to drive away to the
place appointed for their burning. Amongst many Christians
that stood by, Mellltons Mother was one, who, more amated
at this kindnes then at all the former cruelties, stepping to her
son, lifts him to the ground, laies him on her shoulder, and
makes hast to overtake the cartes that went before ; and as
she goes thus loaden, she speaks to this purpose : Oh, my son,
the son of my wombe, and the joy of my heart, how blessed
shall I live hereafter If thou shalt now dy for Christs sake.
Courage, my Son ! Courage, I say. These light afflictions,
which are but for a moment, shalbe repayed with a more

IHS

241

exceeding and eternal weight of Glorie. Take heart, oh thou
light of mine eies, that I may enjoy thee in everlasting light.
When thou wentest to the warre for thy Prince, I sent thee
forth with teares, because danger was much and the gaine little.
But now I march with triumph, because I know there is a
Crown and a kingdome that attends thee. The cold water
hath brought thee to the gates of Paradise, the consuming fire
shall give thee full possession of it. Thy Companions, my
Son, thy noble and happy Companions, are gone before ; make
hast to overtake them, that with them thou mayst enter into
the presence of the Lord and into the fulnes of his Joy. To
all these words Melliton gives no answere, but cheerfully
breathing out his soul into her bosome, gives the full assurance
of her best desires; which she perceiving, takes him from her
shoulders into her Armes, and undantedly casteth him upon the
other Martyrs. This done, she follows with the rest to the
place of execution, and there stales till she sees that body
which had received life and nourishment from her brought to
ashes, being farre more glad to have offered him up a burnt
sacrifice to God, then to have kept him alive never so much
to her own Comfort.
Patient. Let me adde a Paralel, and there will be a large
feild for your admiration and observation to exercize them
selves in. Valentz the Emperor, having out of his zeal to the
Arrian heresy deprived the orthodox Christians of Edessa
both of their Bishop and their Churches, comes at last in
person to see a famous and magnifique Church that was In that
Citty, bearing the Name of St. Thomas. When he comes he
sees the Catholicks, whom he had hoped to have seen either
perverted or dissipated, exercizing their Religion in great
Numbers, and with great boldnes, in an open feild under the
walls of the Citty. At this spectacle he grows so enraged, as
after many contumelious words heaped on the President
General, he gives him a blow on the face, and wills him hence
forth, with armed hand, to prevent such assemblies ; and If
they would needs come together, he bids him use both whips
17

242 IHS
and clubs and other warUke Instruments for their chastizement.
The President, whose name was Modestus, thus enforced and
affrighted, gathering all the trayned band together early in the
morning, goes to the performance of this charge. As he
passeth over the market place, there comes a woman half-
dressed, leading a child In her hand, and without any shew of
care or feare, breaking through the midst of his troopes,
hastens to the place where he was going. The President wills
her to be brought back, and demands whither she made such
disordered speed. To the Assembly of the Catholicks, sayd
the woman. Alas, poore soul (sayd hee), dost thou not know
the Emperors Commands? I know It, repUed she, and that
all these persons and provisions are intended to the slaughter ot
them, and therefore it is that I make such hast to this holy
meeting, longing to undergoe joyntly with them whatever is
to be done or suffered for our common Faith. But why dost
thou carry this Infant with thee ? sayd Modestus. That being
partaker in an holy Death, replied she, he may be partner with
us in everlasting happines. The President amazed (as well
he might), goes back to Valentz, and recompting this passage,
tells him he might by one Instance know the mind of all the
rest of the Orthodox, and perceive that the event would be
contrarie to expectation. For wee shall, sayd he, gaine
nothing but the reproach of crueltie In attempting by foul
meanes to overthrow such invincible Constancie. The force
of these arguments, and the wonderment of the fact it self,
wrought so on the mind of Valentz as he forbore to put in
execution the violence which hee intended. And the holy
woman that brought her son a free will offering went away,
not only with his and her own life, but with the safetle of the
whole Church.
Guard. Wee had lost much If wee had gone away with
out these last Stories.
Cheeref. And wee shaU be guilty of more by having
heard them if wee put them not in practize. To know these
things and not to follow them will procure double stripes.

I HS

243

Mother. Wee shall not scape at so easy a rate. Our
Commendation of good will make our Condemnation the
sorer. If we Imitate not what wee advise and propose to
others, wee shalbe tenfold punished, and wee deserve it.
Affect. Wee are necessitated to be better then ordinarily
Christians are, or els our case wllbe farre worse, in that wee
know the way and the reward of weldoing ; of both which
points, as farre as I can perceive, the world Is utterly ignorant.
If our stories be right, the practize of the world Is very wrong.
And in fuller remonstrance thereof and further pennance of my
unwary Errour In lessening the fault of Mrs. Catherine Stubs,
which her self so much aggravated, give mee leave to the con
fession which I formerly made, to adde by way of satisfaction
the recompting of a most noble Storle as any you have heard,
containing not only a cleare proof of that wholesome doctrine
which I have learned from you touching the difference which
wee ought to make In our affections and esteeme between the
members of Christ and all other creatures whatsoever, but
serving notably for a pattern to all such delinquents as I have
been, how they ought to make amends and reverse the Ignorance
of their words and deeds when ever they are convicted of
opposition or maine difference from the true and lively power
of Christian Faith and doctrine. And because the Story is 01
special weight and consequence, not only In regard of the sub
stance of the fact but of many other circumstances, I shall tell
It you as neer as possibly I can without any variation from the
original relation of venerable Bede himself, the native truth
being a condition that is perhaps of more satisfaction then
addition of ornament, in those examples propounded for abso
lute Imitation or proof of Doctrine not commonly received in
the world such as this present Is.
Oswln, King of Northumberland, was a man taU in stature
and of a comely aspect, affable in speech, and curteous in
behaviour, and of open handed bounty both towards the gentry
and commonalty, so that great store or noble Personages
flockt out of all the parts of this Ile to his Court, the Eminency

244 IHS
of his rare parts both of mind and body, and the Excellence
of his worthy Actions drawing them on to his love and service.
Amongst all his other vertues and modesty, and as I may so
speak, glories of Gods spiritual benedictions that were in him,
his Humilitie is recompted to have been exceeding admirable,
as by one example will be abundantly manifested. He had
bestowed a very good horse upon Bishop Aldon, although, good
man, he used commonly to performe his journeys on foot ; yet,
notwithstanding, for the better passage of rivers and other such
like occasions, he had accepted of the Kings guift, and one day
as he made use of it by riding, a poore man encountering him
begd an Aimes. The good Bishop being fiill of pitty, a special
observer of the poore, and a father of the afflicted, instantly
dismounting, wills that his horse, with all the royal furniture
belonging to him, should be given the poore man. The King
had speedy notice thereof ; whereupon, going in to dinner
with Aidon, he sayd. What is this that thou hast done, my
Lord Bishop, In giving to the poore man the royal Courser
which thou shouldst have kept for thine own use ? Were there
not meaner horses, or other kind of things good enough to
have bestowed on the poore man, although that thou hadst not
parted with that horse, which I gave thee for thine own personal
service ? The Bishop cutting him short made answere : What
is this that thou sayest, oh King ? Is that son of a Mare which
I have given away of more esteeme with thee then that son of
God for whose sake I have given it, and that son of God to
whom I have given it ? Aidon having thus spoken satt him
down in his place, and the King and' his servants that had been
a hunting goe to the fire. As they stand warming themselves
the King takes the matter and the Bishops words into better
consideration, and hereupon ungirding his sword and giving it
to an officer to lay aside, he comes hastily to the Bishop, and
casting himself down at his feet, desired him that he would be
appeased with him ; for never hereafter will I speak any more
of this busines (sayd hee) nor from this day forward sett any
stint touching what or how much of my mony and goods thou

IHS 245
shouldst bestow and give amongst the sons of God. The
Bishop hearing this starts up as one much aftrighted, and taking
up the King, told him that he would be wholly freinds with him,
if, casting away aU manner of heavines, he would now sett
down to meat chearfuUy ; which, whilst the King in obedience
strives to performe, shewing himself pleasant and merry, the
Bishop on the other side grows so troubled and overgone with
greif, that teares burst out of his eies. One of the Bishops
Preists observing this, demanded of him in their own language,
which neither the King nor any of his servants understood,
what might be the reason of this sodalne passion. I know,
answered Aidon, that this King cannot Hve long ; for such a
King as this I never saw. I perceive plainly that he will be
shortly snatcht out of this world, for this people are no waies
worthy of such a Governour as he is. And in very truth this
sad presage of this holy man was not long after accomplished.
This blessed King was traiterously made away, and Aldon him
self Hved only twelve dales after the others death — death In the
w^orlds accompt and in the eies of flesh and bloud, but in truth
the entrance of life and everlasting Happines.

XIII
CHRISTMASTIDE, 1632
St. Lawrence — Jeames Baynham — Windelmuta's Burning —
Marian s Burning — Bishop Farrer and Thomas Hanks —
The Martyrs of Saluce — The Priest Macarius and the
Avaricious Firgin.
Mother. Its a hard task, beloved Cheerefull, that is upon
us, and double to that which was last yeare enjoyned. To
outvy Idle pastimes by worthy Stories was not much ; the
pleasure lies the same way in both those mattere. Its the
Delight of the mind thats sought by gaming, and, therefore,
when a better satisfaction was offered in the same kind, it was
no great difficultie to content them from whom we tooke the
lesse. But the Belly, you know, hath no cares ; and there
fore I know not how you can apply your Stories to quiet its
grudgeings for those delicacies which you have robbed it of
They must be very materiall Stories that can make recompence
for the losse of so much good Cheere as your austere Temper
ance hath rentrenched.
Cheer. The Pleasure which I have hindred had, I am
sure, by this time beene lost if it had been taken. The savour
of Dainties is past assoone as they are gone downe into the
Belly. You are now, therefore, no worse by forbearance then
you should have beene by enjoying. Bring mee any of those
who have filled themselves with the best of meats and drinks,
and if he find any sweeter relish in his mouth by aU that which
246

I H S

247

Gluttonle could devise, then you now doe upon that Pittance
which Temperance hath entertained you with, and I am con
tent to be chaUenged of Injury In what I have done, and bound
to make amends In what shall be desired.
Mother. Nay, verily ; we would not now by any meanes
make exchange for disposition either of mind or of body with
them that have most filled themselves with Dainties. The
Sweetnes of their good Cheere Is vanished, and the fulnes that
remaines is a Burden. We are now in the better case by their
owne judgements, and so shalbe till supper returne, when the
poverty of two dishes, and those but plaine ones neither.
Mutton and Veale (for I heare of no others provisions) wUl not
be able to minister that happines which a well covered table
would doe.
Cheer. They wlU not afford that Honour perhaps in the
worlds esteeme ; but surely for matter of pleasure there need
be no envy, it being most true In matter of Diet which
Socrates sayd of Riches, That the surest and readiest way to be
wealthy is not to encrease mony and substance, but to cutt of
unnecessarie desires. So verily for a man to keepe good Cheere
alwaies there needs not the providing of much or dainty good,
but the paring away of wanton appetites. He that eats by the
judgement of his Pallate, and not of his owne or others fancies,
may alwaies, if he please, sitt downe to a Feast, it being ever
in his power, by the right preparing of his stomach, to convert
whatever Is sett before him into Nectar and Ambrosia. Tell
mee, I pray, whether you thlnke there be ever a feast in the
Kingdome that will rellish the Guests better then our sober
Commons is like to doe our good Company to Night ? And if
you eat with as much pleasure as any whatsoever, why should
you esteeme your Cheere lesse or worse then the best can be
even for the very present? As for afterwardes, when the Table
is taken away there will be no compare. You shall have as much
advantage over others in your rest upon an orderly supper, as
you have now for buisines upon a sober collation. So then, both
for the night and day theres the pleasure of ten houres, for one

248 IHS
that you should have had by the allowance or such excesse as
we have formerly used. And how can you then any way make
Temperance or me your Debitor, that have not abated any
thing from the delight of your mouth, and have added much to
the delight and ease of every other facultie and member both
of Mind and Body ? If you have now no lesse pleasure in
eating when you come to your meales, and much more in all
other respects all the day long, why should you then thlnke
any other Cheere or entertainment better then that which you
have ?
Guard. We approuve what you say to be true, and are
content to accept what you provide as good and great Cheere ;
but alwaies without any prejudice to the Stories that wee are
now come for. It was your promise, and therefore we may
clalme them by way of debt, though not of recompence. We
acknowledge to have no Damage by what you have taken from
our BelUes ; but if you give not the Dainties which we expect
for our mindes, you shall faile in that which is right for your
selfe and due to us.
Mother. The demande Is so right as cannot be put of
without much wrong. Wherefore I pray, beloved Cheerefull,
without any further delay proceed to the satisfaction of It.
Let the Banquet of Stories be brought forth, and that answer
able to the Festivall, rich and plentiful! with dainties, that
our Guests may report they have Christmas fare for the mind
at least, albeit but ordinarie entertainment for their BeUles.
Cheer. You say well ; and to this intent I have chosen out
a Storie which Includes all the ingredients of Christmas
magnificence. It is of St. Laurence, his name speakes Bayes :
thats the first, you know, of all the preparations which belong
to this great Festival!.
Mother. Never was a name more fitly imposed on a
man. The Laurel!, Its the glorious meed of Victore, and who
ever more victorious than St. Laurence, that triumphed over
Emperors, and by his Patience in suffering overcame the very
patience of his Tormentors ?

IHS 249
Cheer. A good fire Is the next of our Christmas pro
visions. And here you shall see one kindled if you draw
nigh it by attention, wlU warme the coldest heart, and Inflame
It with the Love of heaven, making us blush to thlnke how
little we are willing to suffer for him for whom St. Laurence
was wiUing to suffer so much.
Affectio. And by the light thereof. If you looke weU
you shall see the monstrous deformitle of the worlds practize
at this time, especially in nourishing our Bodies and arming
our Lusts to fight against Christ, at the same time when wee
celebrate the remembrance of the Martyrs that layd downe
their Lives for Christs sake. They regarded not their Bodies
to please Christ, and we regard not Christ to please our
Bodies. How doe wee condemne ourselves In commending
them !
Cheer. A Christmas light guilded and engraven with the
pourtracture of all manner of vertues will not be wanting.
St. Augustine sayth that St. Laurence his Passion was a
Candle set up to enlighten the whole world. As for good
Cheere and Dainties, which is ye maine, though all the
Martyrs be Dainties at Gods table (and how then shall they
be otherwise In our esteem ? ) yet In very truth St. Laurence Is
rost meat for our soules to feed on.
Mother. You say very true. There is not perhaps
amongst all the Martyrs any one Example wherein we shall
find more abundance of admirable and appliable matter, then in
this of St. Laurence, if there were time to improve it now.
You need not goe on to further resemblance — there could not
a story be chosen more proper every way. Wee pray you
therefore proceed to the narration it selfe.
Cheer. The country of St. Laurence is commonly sayd
to be Spaine, and Osea, a citty of Arragon, the place where he
was borne, where his Parents Names stand recorded to have
been Orentius and Patrentia, and there is an Anniversary
remembrance of them, as Saints, in that Church to this day.
Being thus borne of Saints, it is no question but his breeding

250 IHS
was in all holines, and accordingly wee may presume his
whole life was answerable. We may well thlnke he had
beene long trained up in Christs schoole that came forth so
compleat a champion, but leaving what wee know not, wee!
beginne where we find certainty ; and that is, how he was
chosen by Pope Sixtus to be the Cheife of the Deacons, and
had the treasure of the Church committed to his custody.
These treasures (that you may not thlnke that holy Bishop to
have beene a border up of wealth for Covetuousnes, as his suc
cessors now be) are by St. Ambrose specified to have beene
certaine monies which were kept In store, for the necessarie
sustenance of the Ministers and the charitable releife of the
poore Christians. At this time was a cruell Persecution at
Rome, and the cheife Minister thereof was named Valerian,
who, understanding that Pope Sixtus by his preaching and his
counsells was a meanes, not onely of drawing many Gentiles
to the Christian Faith, but of putting forward many Christians
to the prize of Martyrdome, sends for him, and by all Artifice
that could possibly be devised, both of faire and foule words, of
Threats and Promises, assaies to supplant him in the profession
of that holy faith whereof he had beene a Doctor to others.
But Sixtus, remaining Immoveable, and seeming to deride
both his menaces and offers. Valerian in great rage wills him
to be carried to Prison. In the way, as the Guard led him,
Laurence overtakes him, and without respect of any thing els,
for the longing that he bad to goe with him into Bonds and
unto Death, cries out amaine. Whether away. Father, dost
thou goe without thy sonne ? Whether dost thou make such
speed, oh holy Preist, without thy Deacon ? If it be to offer
up thy selfe a sacrifice to God, thou doest against thine owne
usage, that was never wont to offer without a minister. I
have hitherto served thee in this nature ; what now appeares
offensive in mee that thou shouldest reject mee ? Hast thou
found me to degenerate, either In fidelltle or valour ? Thou
commlttedst to my ministry the dispensation of Christs
Blood amongst the faythfuU, and wilt thou now deny mee the

IHS 251
communion of thine owne blood ? Wilt thou refuse him a
partener In thy sufferings whom thou hast made an associate
In the consummation of the Sacraments ? Haveing accepted
me for the greater charge, wilt thou put me of from the lesse ?
Consider well however the greatnes of thy courage may be,
yet the goodnes of thy judgement will by this meanes be
called in question, and thou mayest happily be censured as
undlscrete whilest thou art commended for valiant. The
Scholars imperfection is the Masters disgrace. How much
renowne have many great Persons wonne through their
scholars vertues ? How many famous Captaines have
triumphed for the Victories of their souldiers rather then their
owne ? Remember that Abram offered up his sonne, that
Steven went to Martyrdome before Peter. Doe thou like
them, my Father. Manifest thine owne valour first In thy
sonnes, and obtaine the victorle in his Conqueste. Offer him
for the truth whom thou hast deUvered from error, and taking
mee a long with thee in thy suffering, goe approved in thy
judgement and accompanied to thy Glory.
I refuse thee not, my sonne, answered Sixtus, nor doe I
leave thee behind as a Coward, but as a select Champion
ordained for a greater Triall. An easy Death best befitts my
Age and weakenes ; a sorer Conflict attends thy strength
and youth, and a more noble Triumph Is reserved for thee.
Weepe not, my son, thou shalt quickly follow ; three daies
hence thou shalt obtaine what thou desirest. This space ot
time Is to be Inserted for decency betweene the Preist and the
Levite. It fitts thee not to strive In thy Masters presence,
least It should be thought thou needest helpe to overcome.
Why doest thou make suit to be a partner in my sufferings ?
Lo, I bequeath them whoUy to thine inheritance. What
wouldest thou doe In my company ? It belongs to weake
Scholars to goe along with their Masters. They that are
strong come as safely after, and much better, being single, that
so they may enjoy that full measure of Glorie which they
deserve. It would be greatly to thy disadvantage to have a

252 IHS
helper in this combate, that knowest how to overcome when
thou art alone. Why doest thou so urge our going together ?
Elisha wanted not the grace when he was left by Ellas to doe
wonders of himselfe, and greater then his Master had done. I
leave thee behind, as he did, to follow and to passe mee in my
sufferings. Thou shalt endure more, and obtaine more ; I
consigne unto thee the whole succession of my Vertues.
Onely this I give In charge : Let the treasures of the Church
which thou hast In keeping be speedily divided amongst the
poore. St. Laurence, being thus comforted, not with the hope of
life and worldly Happines, but with the assurance of a painfull
Death for Christ his sake, departes with much joy, hasts to
the performance of his Masters Injunction. Hee spends the
rest of that day and the whole night after In visiting the
Christians that had retired themselves Into certaine caves under
ground and other secret places, for safety of their lives and the
free exercise of their religion. At one of these places he
restores sight to a blind man, and at another cured a woman
that was greviously tormented with contlnuaU headache.
These mighty deeds that made him admirable in their eies
made him more humble In his owne. He craves it, as a
favour of the congregation, that he may wash their feet.
They yeeld, as they tell him, because Christ gave the
example of what St. Laurence desired.
And so at one place he performed this service to above
seventy persons. After he had washed and kissed their feet he
fills every mans hand proportionable to their needs, till he had
quite emptied his owne of all the treasure, mony, and stock
that was under his custody. If the hight of his other
excellencies seeme unlmltable to us, yet surely we can find no
excuse why wee should not accompany him in this descent,
even coupling that honour that we receive from God or Man
with the exercizes of humility, and the beneficence that we
shew to any of Gods Children with abundance of respect to
their Persons. The necessity of the godly Poore are for our

IHS 253
Compassion onely, not for our Contempt. They doe well
indeed to thlnke the lesse of themselves for their Calamitie,
but we ought rather to prize them the more, considering that
in their lowly estate and afflictions we shall finde a greater
resemblance of our Masters condition then In our owne
honour and Prosperity. St. Laurence, having thus every way
fitted himselfe by the putting on of that spirituaU Armour that
was needfull, and by the dispatch of those affaires that were of
impediment, comes forth at last into the open feild. As soone
as it was day he goes to seek his Master, Sixtus. And as he
goes he meets him, led to execution with two other of his
Fellow Deacons, Fiellclsslmus and Agapetus — those were the
Names of this happy, lovely paire.
A holy oemulatlon of their approaching Blessednes makes
him melt into teares, and breake forth into Cries. Take mee
likewise, Holy Father, now along with thee. I have done
what thou enjoynedst ; the treasures are dispensed. Why
should I stay behind that have no more to doe ? These words
aloud and often repeated by St. Laurence, caused his Instant
attachement by the Guard, whereof notice being given to
the Emperor, he Immediately causes the Prisoner to be brought
unto him, having in his greedy hopes conceited a double prize,
of Sixtus his Church treasures, and of Laurence his Christian
faith. But Laurence disappoints his expectation for that time
by silence. Though he were often demanded, yet he would not
answere one word, and is therefore by the offended Prince
committed to the Guard of one Hypolltus. In this Prison,
amongst other delinquents, there was one LuciUus, who,
through excesse of Greife had wept out his eies. St. Laurence
offers him both his sight, which he had lost, and oeternall
happines besides, if he would beleive in Christ. LuciUus
agrees, is Immediately baptized, and instantly receives what was
promised ; his blindnes and his sorrow fall away both together ;
he seeth the things of the earth plainely, and feeles those joyes
of Heaven he could never have beleived.
The observation of this and other the Uke Cures (for many

254 IHS
other are sayd to be wrought by St. Laurence in that prison)
caused his Guardian to take a singular Affection unto him, and
so, with much respect and kindnes, he setts upon him to per
swade that he would freely disclose those treasures that the
Emperor sought after, aUedging not onely the security of his
ll£e, but the certainty of his promotion In riches and Honour
would thereupon follow. If thou wouldest beleive In God
Omnipotent, and In his Sonne Christ Jesus, I wlU not onely,
freind Hypolltus, sayd St. Laurence, shew thee those treasures
which thou demandest, but make thee a certaine partaker of
oeternall Life and happines. And hereupon St. Laurence tooke
occasion to preach the Gospell of God, which, by the operation
of the Holy Spirit, became so effectuall, as Hypolltus with his
whole family, being 19 Persons, were converted and forthwith
baptized. After this Valerian (that was one of the Tyrants
Names) and Decius, the other, sending for St. Laurence,
endeavoured with gentle words and large promises to draw
from him the place where the treasures lay which he had
openly confessed to have beene in his Custody. Gladly will I
doe what Is required, sayd St. Laurence, if I may be allowed
fitting time for the performance thereof; three daies re.spite I
must have for the collecting them together.
Its granted, sayd Valerian, and let HypoHtus goe with you
as Assistant and Guard. Upon this agreement aU three
departed contented. Valerian rich in the assurance of these
treasures, Hypolitus blest In the further enjoyment of his
Prisoner, and St. Laurence glad In the hope of doing more
good and suffering more EvlU. At the three dales end St.
Laurence returnes, and finds Valerian, accompanied with
Decius. The receiving of the treasures was a busines that
both desired to be interested in. Being willed to make good his
promise, he stretches out his hand to a great Number of poore
people, blind, lame, sick, and impotent, that he had brought
alon"- with him, and, as some say, upon those very Cartes that
had beene given him for the conducting of the treasure. Loe
here most mighty Emperor, sayd hee, the wealth of Sixtus,

IHS

255

uire

the tresures of the Church, which you so earnestly enq...
after. There is no tongue able to expresse the rage of those
Passions which the mockage of St. Laurence, so they termed
It, drave these Tyrants Into. They commanded his Cloathes to
be stripped of, and his Body to be torne with Scorpions, an
iron instrument that beares that name from the llkenes that It
hath to the forme and to the effects of the Scorpions claws.
When this seemes not to move him, the Tyrants will their
ministers to put In practize on him the uttermost of all those
Engines which the schoole of cruelty could afford. Hereupon
they sett before him a long row of dreadfull torments, and tell
him he must looke to undergoe them aU If he continue his
obstinacle. Unwise Men, sayd he, you are, that thlnke to
scare mee with these things, which I have alwaies longed for
as greatest Dainties. Instruments of tortures you call them,
and so they shaU all prove to you, but for mee matters of
delight. You will never be able to satisfie my unsatlablenes
of these Delicacies. If these be delicacies, cryed out enraged
Decius, tell where we may find other madmen of thy
Fraternity to beare thee companie in this feast. Those whom
thou askest after, repHed St. Laurence, are too good, too happy
for thine unworthy eies to behold. Decius perceiving that
his courage was too great for lighter meanes to worke upon,
wills that St. Laurence should be loaden with Chaines, and
carried before him to his Pallace, where, with length of time and
all exquisite tortures, he ment to be revenged to the full.
Being there seated In his throne, he wills St. Laurence to doe
what he was commanded, and not to rely upon his hidden
treasures, which should not at all stead him against those cruell
torments which should otherwise be inflicted upon him. My
Confidence, repHed the blessed Saint, is onely In the treasures
of Heaven, the Bounty, mercy, and goodnes of God. By
these treasures shall I be kept free In soule and in spirit,
although the body perish under that thou threatenest. Here
upon Decius gave commande that he should be first beaten
with rods, and afterwards hoysing him up Into the Aire by an

256 IHS
Engine whereupon he was fastened, they burnt his sides with
certaine hot plates of Iron made fiery hot to that intent. In
the midst of that torment the Martyr lift up his voice, gave
thankes aloud to Jesus Christ, that had made him worthy to
suffer these things for his sake, beseeching him to shew mercy
upon his Servant, that, being accused, denied him not, and
being examined confessed him to be the sonne of God. Thou
art a great Magltlan, I perceive, sayd Decius, that makest
light of these things ; but all thy cunning shall not help thee ;
for I sweare by the Immortall gods, that unlesse thou Instantly
resolve to sacrifice to the gods, I will inflict such torments on
thee as never mortall man endured the like. Thy torments
shall have an end, replied Laurence, in a short space, and even
that little whilest they last I shall not feel them, by the power
and vertue of Christ Jesus. Doe what thou canst, thou
shalt wearie thyselfe and not mee. That will wee try, sayd
the Tyrant, and thereupon commands his whole body should
be scourged over with certaine Whips that had leaden buUets
tied to the end of the Cords. The bruising of the flesh
rayseth up the Courage of the spirit. St. Laurence seemes at
ease, and the Tyrant grows wild with rage. He bids, Teare
his flesh with Iron Combes, pull his Joynts In sunder with the
rack. This is immediately done, but all proves in vaine. St.
Laurence continues cheerefuU, not onely constant, not through
insensiblenes of bodily paine, but by the supply of heavenly
refreshment. One of the Souldiers, named Romanus, sees an
Angell standing by St. Laurence in shape of a goodly young
Man, wiping with a Cloth the sweat from his fece and the
gore from his wounds. At last Decius, tyred out of Patience,
bids. Lead away the Martyr for that time to prison againe ;
where, assoone as he was entered, Romanus brings a vessell of
water, tells aloud what he saw, professeth that he will hence
forward serve no other God then Christ Jesus, and desires to
be baptized, which is accordingly performed by St. Laurence.
News thereof going instantly to Court, Decius wills that
Romanus should be brought to him. Romanus comes with-

IHS 257
out delay, and by his voluntarie Confession prevents the
Emperors demande, but encreaseth his anger. Assoone as he
comes in sight, he calls aloud. What is thy pleasure with me,
oh Emperor ? I am a Christian. My pleasure is, sayd the
Emperor, that thou shalt loose thy Hfe for thy Christianity.
And so he did. The executioner takes him away instantly,
and cutts off his head without the gates of the citty. Thus
he that came after went before, for one houres worke In
the Vineyarde at the end of the day receiving the agreement
of everlasting Happines. By this time night drew on, but
fury takes no rest. St. Laurence is sent for, and againe the
Tyrants both together set upon him with Calumnies of
Majick, proposall of sacrifices, and dreadfull menaces. Decius
tells him that if he persist In his wlUfulnes, the whole night
shalbe spent in tormenting him. Then shall It be a glorious
day of JubUe and triumph unto mee, said he, and not a night of
darknes and horror, as thou concelvest. Beat his mouth with
stones, cryed the Tyrants, and bring forth the Bed that Is
prepared for his lodging this happy Night. It was a great
Instrument of Iron made in fashion of a gridiron. On this
they stretch forth the Saints Body, and afterwards putting fire
under, they began to rost him alive. The Superlntendencie
of the Tyrants themselves caused great solicitousnes in the
ministers. They appHed the Coales oequally, that every
member might have his part ; and yet so moderately as by
Continuance of life the torment might bee lengthened out.
Whilest he lies in this manner he lookes upon Decius, and.
See wretched Man, these Coales are a refreshment unto mee,
and this fire nourisheth what thou seekest to destroy. And
all this through the power of my Lord Jesus Christ, whom,
when I was accused I denied not, and when I was examined
I confessed, and now, being rosted in the fire, I blesse and
magnify. This ardent love to our Saviour kindled in St.
Laurence his heart made him not to feele at all the outward
flames that rosted his body, which, being now quite eaten
through on one side, he calls again to Decius, whose enraged
18

258 IHS
visage gave evidence that the flames had peirced further Into
his heart then into St. Laurences body. Give order, sayd he,
I pray thee, oh Decius, to thy ministers to turne my other side
to the fire, that so, being thoroughly rosted, thou maiest eat thy
fill of my body, and make account to satisfie thy appetite with
my flesh, and not with the treasures of the Church, which by
the hand of the poore are conveyed already into Heaven.
And now the Conquest being achelved, the Combate ended,
the glorious Martyr turnes himselfe to Christ, and giving
thankes for his sufferings, is immediately received up to the
enjoyment of his Crowne. The body, that was left aU night
upon the Gridiron, was next day honourably interred by the
Christians, of whom Hypolltus, being accused to the Emperor
as cheife, was In reward of his Piety, and of his constant
profession of the Christian faith In Conformity of his Name to
that other Hypolitus whom the Poets speake of, adjudged to
be torne in peices by wild horses. This is the story of St,
Laurence, which I will end with Mr, Fox his conclusion:
The God ot might and mercy graunt us grace by the life of
St. Laurence to learne In Christ to live, and by his death to
learne for Christ to dy. Amen.
Mother. Undoubtedly we have an exceUent patterne in
the one, and a strong encouragement in the other. We can
hardly find a more perfect rule then his Actions, and a more
enforcing argument then his sufferings, both to direct us in the
leading ofour Uves according to Christs will, and to perswade us
to the ready laying of theme downe for his sake, when hee caUs
us to it. Who can thlnke any service enough, or any suffering
too much for such a Lord and Master as Christ Jesus is, who
turnes the sorest Paines to delight, and extracts pleasures for
his Saints out of the most horrid torments that mans rage can
inflict upon them ? He that lies broyllng on a Gridiron in
others eies, lies in his owne Conceit upon a Bed of Pleasure.
Oh the mercy and power of our Lord Jesus Christ to them
that love and put their trust in him ! It was so with the three
Children of old ; they walked In the fiirnace as in a Garden.

IHS 259
And even in these last dayes wee have had by new examples
the seale of these elder truths, and that we may know It was
all the free grace of God, and not any wales the merits of his
servants Innocency, In some of them, who could not, as St.
Laurence, glory In their constant profession of the truth, from
which through humane fraylty they started at the first, that the
grace of God and his mighty Power might be fully manifested
and more perfected In and by their weaknes.
Jeames Balnham, overwrought by feare, abjures the truth
under the Name of Heresy in the daies of Henery the 8th.
He recants with his mouth what himselfe beleived, and sub
scribes with his hand to that which others offered. He goes In
procession before the Crosse at Pauls, and stands with a fagget
on his shoulder before the preacher all the sermon while, and
so with a small fine he is dismissed out of bodily Prison and
from the grelvance of Men. But his freedome proves his
misery, his Liberty without Gods favour Is a thousand times
worse then the prison, and his life without the truth Is growne
odious to himselfe. He bewailes his error In private to his
freinds one by one ; at last he makes publlg Confession of It
before the whole Congregation of the faithfull In a Warehouse
in Bow Churchyard in London. This done, he goes next
Sunday to St. Augustines with an EngUsh testament in his
hand, and the obedience of a Christian man in his bosome ;
there he puts himselfe forth in open view, and weeping, teUs
aloud that he had done no lesse then denied God in departing
from the truth. And If I turne not againe unto It, this word
of God, sayth he, shewing forth the testament, will damne
mee both body and soule at the Day of judgement. Forgive
me aU, good people, and take heed that you fall not after the
example of my weaknes. Death can be nothing in respect of
that hell which I have felt, and for all the world I would not
againe endure what I have done. This pubUg Act he seconds
by his letter to the Bishop, and is thereupon apprehended, and
after much crueU handling comes at last to the Stake ; and what
doe you thlnke doth it prove ? As flesh and Blood formerly

26o IHS
doubted ? No. Heare his owne words, and see the selfe same
tender mercy of God which St. Laurence acknowledged, made
good on him likewise. When the fire had devoured halfe his
legs and Armes, he calls out to the lookers on. Oh, yee
Papists, Behould you looke for miracles, and here now you may
see a miracle : for in this fire I feele no more paine then if I
were in a Bed of Downe ; but it is to mee as sweet as a Bed of
roses. Patient. The llvelines of this noble expression will hardly
be parralleld ; but the selfe same gratlous working of Gods
holy spirit, as St. Vincent sayd of old, in strengthening the
Tormented more then the Devill can doe the Tormentor, and
in sweetening the bitternes of most crueU paines so as they
should be very tolerable to the Body, and no way able to
diminish from all fulnes of joy In the spirit, might easily be
confirmed by a Cloud of better examples, as well as those of
former times if need were.
Mother. Though it need not for gaining of belelfe in
them that beleive already, yet It will be profitable for encrease
and confirmation of beleife in them that beleive most. Nor is
there any thing that can better suite both the day and our
selves. Wherefore, if you thlnke good, let us not passe from
this subject till we have by addition of more proofes fortified
it a little better.
Guard. You say well. Instances are the best arguments In
this matter ; and however we perswade ourselves, I am In doubt
that beleife of this trust is not so full and sound as it ought to
be in most of us. For did we really beleive it in others, we
could not be so affrighted in applying it to our selves. That
fire should not paine, though it biirnt, nor torments afflict
when they were most felt, nor Death affright at all when it
most dreadfully ceazes, are such grounds as, being rightly layd,
would make us as forward to be Imitators as we are ready to
admire the Patience and Constancie of Martyrs.
Patient. Indeed that was Windelmutas foundation.
When a noble Matron that loved her dearly besought her

IHS 261
for the prolonging of her life to dissemble the profession of her
faith, and to be content to keepe it in her heart, Ah, sayd shee,
doe you know what you say ? With the heart we beleive to
righteousnes, and with the tongue wee confesse to salvation. And
when upon her seeming to contemne death, it was told her she
had not yet tasted how bitter Death was : No, sayd she,
neither ever shall I : for so much hath Christ promised to all
that keepe his word. Neither will I forsake him for sweet
life or bitter death. Nor was Christs mercy less then her
hope. She went to her death with a merry and joyfull
Countenance, desiring the executioners to looke well that the
stake were fast, that it deceived her not by faUing. She layd
the powder to her brest, she stretcheth forth her neck to the
cord, and bowed downe her head as one that would take a
sleepe. What thlnke you ? Was Deathe terrible to her at all ?
Moderat. How contemptible was It to Marian, a woman
of low ranke in the world, but of high degree in Gods
kingdome, when for her resolutenes In the truth she was
condemned to be buried quick. Seeing the Coffen brought
hooped with Iron : Have you provided this pasty Crust to
bake my flesh in ? sayd she.
Affectio. But fire is intolerable. You shall have
instances for that too. When Richard Jones, a knights
Sonne, bemoaned the painfuUnes of his death to Bishop Farrer
a Uttle before his burning. If you see mee once to stirre In the
fire, sayd the Bishop, then give no Creditt to my doctrine.
And what he sayd he well performed : for he stood without
moving to the last, holding up his stumps till one Richard
Gravell beat him downe with a Staffe.
Thomas Haukes his freinds had the same dread of burning
as the other had. They thlnke the paine of the fire to be
unsufferable, and as he is going to the stake, earnestly desire
that If he find It possible for a man to keep his mind quiet and
patient In the consuming of his body, he could give them a
signe, and that which they pitched upon was that he should
Uft up his hands towards heaven before he gave up the Ghost,

262 IHS
and stretch them on high above his head. This he promised to
doe, and so enters the fire, and there continues till his speach Is
choaked, his skinne riveled together, and his fingers quite con
sumed by the violence of the flame. Now every one gives him
for a dead man, and their expectation is come to an end ;
when on a suddaine, like a man that remembreth what he had
almost forgot, he reacheth up his hands all on a Ught fire above
his head to God ward, and with great rejoicing, as it seemed,
clapped them thrice together ; upon which grew a marvellous
outcry and applause from the beholders, and especially on their
parts that knew the meaning. And straightway the blessed
Martyr, sinking downe Into the fire, gave up his spirit.
Moderat. The Uttle paine that the fire put the holy
Martyrs to in Queene Marys dayes was not onely well knowne,
but notably testified by some of the cheifest of their Perse
cutors themselves. A vengeance light on them, said Bishop
Bouner; I thinke they take a deUght in burning, and then
what shall we gaine by the match ?
Guard. This speach paints him forth in the selfe same
colour that Decius appeared In, broyllng much more painefiiUy
In flames of rage and Dlsplte then St. Laurence did on his grid
iron. And verily, if you wiU observe the passages on both
sides, as well In ancient as moderne times, you can hardly be
perswaded but for the most part the Martyrs themselves felt
much lesse of all that which they suffered then either their
Judges or Tormentors did. Make comparison of demeanour
both in the comming unto and the continuance of the execu
tion It selfe, and you shall see it evident, by the difference of
tempers, that you shall perceive the Martyre fuU of Confidence,
of cheerefulnes, of Charity, leaping, singing, praying : they
that condemne them, and they that carry them away to death,
goe raging, cursing, quarelllng, with bent brows, hanging lips,
and staring eies. The ones talke Is all of joy, nothing but
Heaven, Angelis, happines ; the others tongues runne all
upon Devills, Hell, and damnation. Yf the fulnes of the
mouth be a true signe, as truth it selfe has taught us, of the

IHS 263
abundance of the heart, wee must needs conclude that there
was much more reaU Comfort and Gladnes in the inward, then
appearing misery In the outward estate of Gods servants : and
on the contrarie, the persecutors were even for that present In
much worse Condition for point of paine and greife and bitter
sufferings. Moder. A very fresh proofe of this difference of temper
we lately heard In our supper readings.
Guard, You meane touching the Martyrs In Saluce,
Anno 1619 ? Its worth the recounting againe, and besides,
here be many that never heard It yet, I suppose.
Moderat, Peter Marchesy, a Notary of AcceUl, In the
vally of Maire, rich both In the world and to God ward,
having by his example In saying prayers at their meetings, as
well as by his wisedome in conducting their affaires, much
advanced the reformed religion in those places, was committed
to Prison, In June, 1619, by the Governor of Denier, and
thence brought Into the Inquisition at Saluce,
Maurice Mungie, a souldier of good note, that had borne
the office of a sergeant in the Dukes warres, whilest he
sollicites the others deliverance, is himself attacked for the
same Cause of religion, and both are joyntly condemned to
suffer death at . , ,
Upon the 21 of October they are brought forth to execution
early In the morning by foure a Clock, the Monkes that had
been labourelng all night to pervert them accompanying them
on foot, and the Bishop in his Coach, to the Gallows.
Marchesy goes formost, the executioner stopping his mouth
that he might neither pray to God nor speake to the people,
and another goes along still beating him with a CudgeU. At
last he getts the liberty of a few words, but they were sweet
ones : I see the heavens open and the Angelis attending for
mee. No, repHed a Monk that stood under the Gibbet, Those
are the Devills that stay for you in Hell, wicked and damned
wretch that thou art.

264 IHS
Mungie is brought out after him, and as he comes he cries
out. Bee of good Courage, Companion, wee have wonne the
Victory ! What, thlnke you, did they feele for paine that thus
triumphed for joy ? We have wonne the victory, sayth he.
So they had indeed, of flesh and blood, of Men and the Worid,
I, and of their very persecutors too. They could not but goe
away confounded In their owne hearts as well as in others
Judgements. The same teares of the people, and many they
were that applauded them as Martyrs, condemned the other as
their murtherers.
Guard. Mongie was a souldier, and he proclaimes victory.
Hugh Laverock was old and Impotent, and he congratulates
the recovery of his owne and his blind companione, John
Apries, their infirmities at the stake. Every man in the
schoole of Martyrdome useth his own expression, but all play
their prizes with the same contempt of paine and death. After
they were chained the stake. Laverock cast away his crutch
and heartens John Apries. Bee of good comfort, my Brother,
sayd he, for my Lord of London is our good Physitian ; he
will heale us both shortly, thee of thy blindnes, mee of
my Lamenes.
Mother, Both the delight and profitt of this subject is so
great as I should hold it no small sinne to put an end thereto,
but that I see the time is outrunne, and wee ourselves come to
a stand. Wherefore, If you please, let us now differre what wee
cannot well accomplish.
Guard. You say well for this matter ; onely one thing
which I doe not so well underetand I would bee glad if I
now might receive satlsfection in, and that is, touching
St. Laurence his calling the poore the treasures of the Church.
Mother. I will tell you a story that shall cleare the point,
sutes well with the day, and serves marvellously to our admoni
tion. Martyrdome In full act Is but for some few, but the care
and esteeme of the poore belongs to all Christians. And If In
this we doe not Imitate both St. Laurence and St, Steven,
theres no reason to think of being partakers of their glory.

IHS 265
Fhere was a Virgin in Alexandria, a Virgin rather In name
than in truth, being rich and covetous, who, under pretence of
love to her kindred and providing for them, was altogether
busied In worldly affaires, and could by no meanes be per
swaded to exercize any Charity. Amongst the rest she had
one Neice, on whose content and preferment both her study
and affection were cheifly sett. Many holy men having In
vaine assayed the cure of this Infirmity, Macarius at last
resolves to make triall what God would worke by his meanes.
Macarius was a preist of a hundred yeares old, of great fame
for holines, and of most remarkable compassion to the poore,
having turned his owne house into an Hospitall of sick folke,
and wholly Imploylng both his mind and body about the
tendance of their Persons and the releife of their Necessities.
To this Virgin therefore one day Macarius goes. There is a
parcell of Jewells come Into my hands, sayd he, Emralds and
Jacincts and other precious stones of such worth, as In truth
Inestimable, and yet they may be all had for a small summe.
A hundred pounds Is the price. I am well assured there be
many of them more worth alone then you shall pay for them
all. You may, I doubt not, by the sale of some one reimburse
the mony that you now lay out, and keepe all the rest for
your owne honour and your Neices ornament. The covetous
mayd hearing this (after the usage of those times, with great
humlUty to aske favour, and with highest reverence to enter
taine Preists) fell down at Macarius his feet, beseeching him
that no body but she might have the Bargaine. Goe along
then with mee, sayd he, and conclude it your selfe. That
shall not need. Father, answered the Mayd ; see, here Is the
mony ready told out. What you doe In this matter I will
stand to, and shall besides have an everlasting obligation for
the benefitt. Macarius taking the mony, without more adoe
layd it aU out for the releife of the poore that were under his
charge. The Mayd after some daies waiting, loth to suspect
any thing amisse of so holy a man, and yet not able to conceive
any reason of such unexpected delaies, meets him one day as

266 IHS
he was going from the Church, and modestly remembers the
busines to him. Alas, sayd he, that I have not yet given you
an accompt. I layd out the mony, and the Jewells are safe.
Come home and you shall see them. If you like them, then
well ; If not, you shall carry back your mony againe, and I
wUl pleasure some other with the bargaine. She, hearing
this, follows him cheerefuUy, till being entered into the Doores,
he turnes about, and askes her whether she desired first to see
the Emralds or the Jacincts. It matters not much which first,
so I may have them both, replied shee. With that he leads
her into a ground roome, and shewed her a number of poore,
sick, and impotent women. These, sayd he, are the Jacincts.
Come up and you shall see the emralds. And so he carries
her where the men lay, some of whose infirmities were very
noysome to behold. Seeing her amazement, he tells her with
great serlousnes : These are Jewells In Gods esteeme, and I
hope they cannot be otherwise in yours. These are a prize in
your hand, with which you may make purchase in heaven, and
therefore I know you will not repent you of the bargaine that
is so much to your advantage. The poore Virgin, having no
power to reply, departs home In great anguish of mind, which
instantly breeds sicknes, and whilest she thus doubly mournes
her losse and her infirmity, God, trebling his strooke by the
death of her Nelce, brings her to a right sence of her error.
Shee feeles her sinne In her owne punishment and bewailes It ;
reads her danger In anothers Judgement, and intends to prevent
it. She thankes God for his unspeakable mercy, Macarius for
his good Counsell, ratifies the disbursement which he had
made, and imploys all the rest of her wealth In the same kinde
and trade, making Godlines her ornament, and growing rich
in good workes, and so approving her selfe both to God and
Man a true Virgin in the spirit as well as In the flesh.

XIV

CHRISTMASTIDE, 1632— ST. JOHN THE EVAN-
LIST'S DAY
Eustratlus and the Holy Firgin — Julian the Apostate and
Theodorus — Marcus of Arethusa — Henry II. of France
and the Tailor — Henry II. and Andelott.
Mother. Love Is the Summe of St. Johns Doctrine, whose
feast we now celebrate. And the height of Love is to lay
downe our lives for whom wee love. So he proves Gods love
to us, and so he requires wee should prove our Love to
God and to his Children. You shall heare an example, and
that in our owne sex. God make us imitators, as I know you
cannot but be Admirers of It.
Eustratlus being chief Governor of Alexandria, sets forth
a proclamation In Dloclesians name. That whosever denied to
sacrifice to the Gods should be condemned to death. Amongst
many others that made light of this matter, Theodora, a Virgin,
is accused to be one. Eustratlus sends for her, and she
instantly appeares, with her eies cast down through shamefastnes
on the ground, but with her heart, through sanctified thoughts,
lift up to heaven ; her body she presents before the Tribunal,
but her soule remaines fixed at Gods Mercy-seat. I would
know, sayd Eustratlus, who thou art. Why, a Christian,
sayd Theodora. I meane, sayd the Judge, of what condition,
whether free or a servant ? I have told thee already, replied
267

268 IHS
she. I am a Christian, and Christ hath made mee free from
sinne. And In respect of what belongs to the vainglory of
the world, if happily thou Intendest that, I was borne of IUus
trious and noble Parents. Its very true, sayd Lucius, one of
the assistant Judges, shee Is of the best and highest blood In
this Citty. And how, then, wilt thou defile (faire Mayd)
sayd Eustratlus, such excellency of blood with such enormities
of Crimes ? Its flat rebellion against the Emperors, to deny
the worshipping of their Gods, which they have enjoyned.
Come, now, and casting sweet Incense In the fire on the Altar,
purge away this evil odour, that taints thine honour and
endangers thy life. But then I shall defile my selfe much
more, sayd she, polluting my soule, and becomming an
adultres to that great and glorious Lord of heaven that
hath espoused mee to himselfe with his owne blood. To him
I owe, and to him I must preserve the spoties Chastity of my
mind, as well as of my body. Verily, sayd Eustratlus, thus
doing thou shalt loose both ; for unlesse thou sacrifice to the
Gods thou shalt goe to the stewes. If thou forceably wrong
mee, sayd Theodora, thou shalt adde to the Crowne without
any minishment in the purity of my virgin Chastity. Thou
mayest cut in peices my body, and outwardly dlstayne it ;
but thou shalt not touch my soule, either with grelf or shame.
That God hath reserved to the subjection of his owne power
only, and I am confident that his Mercy shall extend to the
preservation of my body also ; and though thou shut me up In
the stews, yet shall not the filth thereof be able to soyle mee
any whit. A fond woman thou art, sayd Eustratlus, to rely
upon the Crucified ; shall he defend thee from violence, that
could not deliver himselfe from death ? A fond Man thou
art, answered Theodora, that Wasphemeth him that by his
death subdued the world. He suffered Indeed, but of his owne
accord, minlstring Power and supplying strength to that selfe
same force which was used against him. And I know that
he can keepe mee safe against all the violence and MaUce of
hell It selfe, and I am confident that if I depart not from this

IHS 269
hope and trust, he wiU performe It, and much more. Three
dayes respite are given thee, sayd Eustratlus, for the honour
of thy kindred, otherwise this obstinacy deserves no favour.
Bethlnke thy selfe well, and come with a better mind. But
she at three daies end returnes the former answere, and there
upon Eustratlus wills the threatened sentence to be put In
execution. Assoone as they had put her In the loathsome
place she lookes up to heaven. God, sayth she, the Father
of my Lord Jesus Christ, that freed Peter out of bonds,
and from the waiting of the Jews, free mee from this perill,
and disappoint the hopes of the enemies of thy Name ! Let
the might of thy goodnes be manifested in the preserva
tion of thy handmayd ! Whilst she thus prayes, a yong Man
clad Uke a Roman Soldier, by the Authority of his habit and
the felrcenes of his words making all the rest give way
(though they were many that like ravenous wolfes stood
contending for a Prey), enters the roome and shuts the dore
after him. Theodora, much affrighted both at his presence
and his Actions, lookes up pitifully Into heaven as one that
doubts to be abandoned of him from whom she most expected
help. Whereupon Didimus — that was the Souldiers name —
comming nigh, with blushing cheekes and broken words to
testify his owne, and to secure her modesty, tells her that she
should not be afrayd of the habit which was put on for her
safety, nor doubt the losse of her Virginity from him, who was
ready to lay downe his life for the defence of it. Come, let
us make interchange of garments, sayd he, and goe thou out
for the preservation of thy Chastity, and leave me heere for
the exercize of Charity and the Combate of fayth. Theodora
gladly yeelds as to Gods ordinance ; and so, putting on the
others apparrell, muffling her face as one ashamed, passeth
away unknowne. She was no sooner gone, but another
enters, and a while mistaken in the womans habits, courts
Didimus for Theodora ; but finding no correspondency to his
lustfuU affections, and going about to use force, Didimus
uncovers his face, and he, thinking It to have beene a reall

270 IHS
Metamorphosis, began to cry out, Come In, oh Men of
Alexandria, and see a wonder past beliefe : The woman Is
transformed by the Christians God into a Man ! God hath
made no exchange of persons, sayd Didimus, but we have
made exchange of garments onely. The souldier that went out
was the Virgin whom you mlsse, and I am her that came In,
a Romane Souldier In hablte, but a Souldier of Christ Jesus
in heart. She is safe escaped from your lusts, and I gladly
remaine here a sacrifice to your rage. The newes of this
being come to the President Eustratius, he wills Didimus to
bee brought, and enragedly demandes who had given him
Counsell to this deceit, and what was become of Theodora.
It was God alone, sayd he, that gave me Counsell and heart
for the performance of what I have done, and he that hath
thus freed Theordora knows where she Is ; as for me, I know
nothing, but that she Is a Christian, and because I am so
likewise, I have put my life in hazard for the securing of her
Chastity. Thou shalt be doubly tormented, sayd Eustratlus,
both for the fraud that thou hast used, and for the faith which
thou professeth ; yet If thou wilt deny the last, I will forgive
the first, and pardon thy offence which thou hast committed,
if thou wilt recant the opinions which thou boldest. I should
never have had the heart, said Didimus, to doe what I have
done if I could have the heart to doe what thou requirest.
Thou mayest well offer me up a burnt offering to Christ
Jesus, but surely thou shalt never perswade mee to offer
sacrifice to any of thy Gods. Eustratlus, hearing this,
commands his head to be cutt of, and his body to be burned.
Blessed be God, sayd Didimus, that hath accepted my service,
and doubly rewarded me in letting me dy a Martyr, and
Theodora live a Virgin.
St. Ambrose (If his story be the same, for, because he gives
no Names to the Pereons and sets Antioche to be the place
where those suffered, some have made a question whether
these be not another couple from those which he writes of),
adds that Theodora, hearing of this sentence, made hast to

IH S

271

the place of execution and there discovers herselfe, and with
many arguments and much earnestnes pleaded for her owne
death and the others safety. Oh, faithfull servant of Christ
Jesus, sayd she to Didimus, I chose thee a champion of my
Virginity, and not a substitute for my Martyrdome. If my
chast honour runne perill, I have need of thy assistance ; but
If It be blood which they thirst after, I have myselfe wherewith
to make payment ; I need no security for the discharge of this
debt. I am sentenced to death, answered Didimus, and not
thou, oh Virgin-spouse of Christ Jesus ; what need we loose
two lives when one will serve ? One will serve indeed, replied
she, but that ought to be mine. If thou thus dy through my
cause, thou leavest mee not so much a Hve woman as a guilty,
and that of a double fault, thy present death and my former
flight ; although, indeed, I fled not from the sufferings of
Martyrdome, but from the pollutions of sinne. Thus did,
sayth Ambrose, this noble payre contend which should dy.
The cruell Judge puts an end to this pious strife, and by
condemning them both to die, contents them both to the fuU.
The Pythagorians, sayth St. Ambrose, exalt to heaven the
freindship of Damon and Pithlas, who offered one to dy for the
other. But how short doth it fall in all degrees and parts of
this wonderfull passage ! They were men, both of them ; one
of these a woman. They were grounded freinds ; these had
never before scene each other. There, one of necessity was to
dy ; these both came voluntary to It. They offered them
selves to one Tyrant ; these to many, and they much more
cruell ; for he pardoned the guilty, and these condemned the
innocent. In this case Is much more excellencle of wisedome,
for their humane freindship onely perswaded ; here desire of
Martyrdome prevailed. They sought mere applause ; these
the honour of God.
Guard. This great desire of Martyrdome, and this holy
contention for dying, with which your story ends, seemes to
call us back to the further opening of that rich and happy
veyne which we yesterday began ; I mean, touching the

272 IHS
exceeding Connsolatlons wherewith God useth to refresh the
spirits of those whose bodies he appoints to suffer for his Cause.
I pray you, therefore, let this daies stories be likewise to the
proofe and confirmation of this necessary, most profitable
truth. Affectio. This blessed Virgin and Martyr, Theodora,
brings to remembrance a noble Confessor of the same Name, in
whose sufferings, and from whose Mouth, you shall receive a
notable Confirmation of that which you desire.
In Julian the Apostates time, Theodorus, a yong man,
being convicted to have beene one of those who sung Psalmes
at the removall of the Martyr Babllas his body, was by the
Emperours Commande most cruelly tormented from morning to
Noone ; aU which he endured with that Constancy and
Cheerefulnes as if he had beene a beholder of some enemies
paines, and not a sufferer of it in his owne body. The Presi
dent appointed for the oversight of this busines, comming to
the Emperor, tells him. Its best timely to give over this matter,
least they prove a derision to the Christians, in proving them
selves so weake as not able to make them feele paine. Where
upon the Emperor wills that not onely Theodorus, but all the
other Prisoners, should be set free. Afterwards divers aske
Theodorus how it was possible he could endure such horrid
Torments. I wanted not the sence of Paine, sayd he, but there
stood by mee a young Man, that ever and anon with a fine
Linen wiped away the sweat, and sprinkled my body with a
most cold water, whereby not onely the heat and the smart of
the stripes and wounds was mitigated, but I was so refreshed
and delighted as when I was taken downe from the Engine of
torment it greived me more then before.
Patient. Marcus of Arethusa was a Companion or
Theodorus in the sufferings of the selfe same persecution,
and In the setting forth of the selfe same grace and mercy of
our Lord Jesus Christ, in turning the paine that is undergone
for his Name sake Into ease and rejoycing. His mirth In Invln-

IHS 273
cible torments shews the hand of the Lord to have beene as
powerfuU with him, though the Ministry of Angelis was not
so visible, as in Theodorus his Case. This holy Bishop haveing
demolished a magnlfig Temple of the Idols at Arethusa under
the favour of pious Constantine, is upon the Change of relll
glon under Apostata Julian eagerly sought for by the heathen,
his owne private as well as publique enemies of the Christian
Faith. At first, according to Christs generaU advise, he
sought safety by flight ; but understanding the apprehension
and IU usage of his owne Person to redeeme them from bonds
and vexation, they that thirsted not his bloud onely, but his
shame and smart in the highest degree, forgetting as weU the
humanity that belonged to themselves, as the honour which
was due to his Age and exceUency of vertue and Dignity, first
stript him naked and cruelly beat him. That done, they cast
him Into the common Jakes of the Citty, and anon, after
drawing him out againe, put him into Schoole boys hands, who
with their Iron stiles, with which in those times they used to
write, did pounce and prick his body all over. Being thus
wounded from head to foot, the men take him againe from the
Children, anoynting him with milk and hony ; and so, chosing
out a place where the sunne shonne extreame hot, they bring
him up In a wicker basket to be devoured of wasps and flies.
As he hangs in these torments they began to treate with him
about the building of their temple, for which they aske at first
a great summe of Mony ; and upon his constant refusall, doubt
ing that his poverty was not able to furnish so much, they fall
to halfe, and In the end pitch upon a very trifle, which they
urge him hard to give, being now more ambitious to get the
Mastery, then formerly covetous either of revenge or Mony.
But Marcus tells them they loose their labour, as well as per
swading as in tormenting. For I hold it, sayth he, as great a
wickednes to conferre one halfe-peny in any such case of im
piety as this Is, as to give the whole summe which you require.
And that they might perceive his light sence and esteeme of
that which bred horror In them to looke upon, he merrily tells
^9

274 IHS
them by way of derision, How am I advanced on high,
despising you that ly groveling on the earth below !
Mother. There can be little question made, as I suppose,
by him that well scans the words and carriages, but that the
Martyr himselfe felt lesse paine of the torments then they
which caused them to be Inflicted on him.
Patient. If any should thlnke otherwise, the event will
make It evident. The Persecutours themselves, for their owne
ease and quiet, give over the pursuelng of that Cruelty which
they cannot make him sensible of. They let him downe and
depart, confounded In their own Consciences and disquieted in
their Minds, and leave him triumphing in his Victory, and us
to learne from his mouth, as my Authour concludes, the example
of true Piety and faithfulnes.
Cheeref. From his Mouth we may learne not onely an
example of that true Piety and faithfulnes which belongs to the
servants of Christ Jesus, but of that great Pitty and felthful-
nes which Christ Jesus our Master useth to proceed with
towards his servants, alwaies making way for the Temptation
that it is easy to be borne by the spirit, however intolerable it
seemes to the flesh. And touching that other part, the terror,
confusion, and anguish of mind, that useth to attend the
persecutors of Gods Saints, I shall tell you a fresh and very
admirable example, wherein . you shall see a Victory more
wonderfully then perhaps you have yet heard of, in regard of
the great distance of Conditions In the Persons ; the one a
mighty King in the ruffe of youth and jollity, the other a poore
Man, by trade a Taylour, and otherwise of so Uttle note In the
world as his Name Is perished, being omitted by the firet
relatours, cannot now be easily found ; but what it may be is
perished on earth. Is certainely registered in heaven, his Name
is there enrold in the lists of Saints and Martyre. And that
which I shall tell you stands recorded in the Martyrologe, and
in the French History, In the words whereof I shall, as neere
as may be, deUver the matter.
Henry the Second of France, after much sport at his

IHS 275
Queenes Coronation in the year 1548, caused a generali
procession to be made in July, where he was assisted with
the Queene, the Princes of the bloud. Cardinals, and all the
Orders and Estates of Paris. At his returne from the Bishops
Lodgeing, where he had dined, he would see certaine Chris
tians burnt, detesting the Errors and Abuses of the Church of
Rome. Amongst the which there was a Taylour, who some
few dayes before had made answere of his beleife befor the
King and many Courtiers, and spake boldly to the Dutches of
Valentlnols, the Kings Concubine, telUng her that she should
rest satisfied to have Infected France, and not seeke to pollute
so holy and sacred a thing as religion and the truth of the
Sonne of God with her giltllenes, and that it was to be feared
that God, for this Cause, would send some great plague upon
the King and Realme. But the King being incensed, and not
amended, being carried away by the allurements of her that
did bewitch him, having commanded that his processe should
be dispatcht, he would be a Spectator himselfe of this Taylours
execution, standing in the Lord of Richports Lodging In St.
Anthonys Street, right against the Scaffold, where — contrary
to the expectation of the Cleargy and Courtiers, who used to
tell the King that the Lutherans were nothing els but such as
carried vaine smoake in their Mouthes, which, being put to
the fire, would soone vanish — the Taylour shewed a wonderfull
Constancy and Patience, haying discovered the King, who,
perhaps, discovered himselfe the more to amate him. The
Taylour began to behold him so constantly, asn othing could
divert him, yea, the fire being kindled, he had alwaies his eies
fixed upon that object. As the King was faine to retire him
selfe, yea, he was so troubled, as he confessed, he thought this
Mans shaddow did stlU follow him, and that for many Nights
this spectacle did present it selfe unto him. Whereupon he
protested he would never see nor heare any such people. But,
forgetting his protestation tenne yeares after, he heard things
which he should have given attentive eare unto, and pretending
to see a great Personage burnt, whose words did merit Credit,
he lost both sight and life.

276 IHS
Guard. The observation of Faustlmus and Tobltas
cheerefull Constancy in unsufferable Torments Inflicted on
them, made Calocerlus — as wee lately heard read — with great
reason to cry, Vere magnus Deus Christianorum ; Verily,
great Is the God of the Christians ! Happy had It beene for
this French King, if from the same premises he had made the
like inference as they did. Hee had then beene likely to have
saved not his soule onely, as Calocerlus did by his Conversion,
but his life, too, which Calocerius lost instantly for the
Confession of Christs Name, and this unhappy Prince lost
afterwards In and, as I suppose wee may boldly say, for the
persecution of Christ his Members.
Moderatour. It seemes by that which hath been related
that the same spirit prompted him if he had given as good
care as Calocerlus did.
Patient. The affrightment that continued with him so
long was more then a prompting, and, as It seemes, wrought
effectually with him for the present, when It drew from him
that resolution never more to see nor heare of any such people.
But belike he had forgott this old promise when he made those
new threats which your story speakes of.
Mother. He forgott it till It was too late, but his deaths
wound brought It fresh to memory, by that which is constantly
reported of him ; but he should have remembered it before, and
surely God gave him a faire warning before he gave him his
full payment.
Cheerefull. I wonder such a warning as you Intimate
should be omitted In my Authour. I doe not remember any
passage there that can be fittly driven to this sence.
Mother. You shall find It registered by a Historiographer
no lesse authentlcall then yours, whovever he bee. Thuanus
reports, how that a yeare before this Capitali and flatt intended
breach of his promise, which cost him his Ufe, he was
much Incensed by the wily Circumventions of the Gulzlans, and
in particular the CardlnaU of Loraine, against the Protestants ;
and by striking at the Cheife to breed more terror amongst

I H S 277
them of lower ranke, he sent one day purposely for Andelott,
Generali of the foot, having given him Notice of the busines
by his Brother, the Cardinali ChatiUion, and his Unkle, the
Constable Momarantzy. Andelott appearing whilest the King
sat at dinner, accompanied with the Dolphin, who sate some
what below, the King, with expression of much Love on his
owne part, and acknowledgement of many great services
received from Andelott, gave him to understand that there had
been divers Complaints made against him, as one not well
affected In Religion. I desire, therefore, sayd the King, par
ticularly to know your belelfe touching the Masse and the
Sacrament of the Altar. Andelott, with great Confidence,
made a full and plaine Answere In every point agreable to the
doctrine of the Protestants. The King, seeming much troubled
thereat, gently willed him to consider well what he sayd, and the
danger that would ensue upon his perseverance in such opinions.
Whereupon Andelott, with much more Courage and freedome
repHed, That nothing could have be fallen him more desirously
then that ample Testimony which his Majesty had given of
his singular affection towards himselfe and his whole Family,
and of his gracious acceptance of their loyall dutlfulnes and
services. But In Case of Religion, it being Gods cause, he
might for no cause whatsoever use dissimulation in any wise.
My goods, my estate, my honours, sayd he, are all In your
Majesties hands to dispose of as you please, but my soule is
onely subject unto God, from whom alone I received it. To
him, therefore, as the highest Lord am I bound In this matter
to give absolute obedience In all things. The King was so
moved at this stoutnes, as not able to restrain his passion ; he
tooke the Dish that stood before him, and with as great unwarl-
nes as Choler, flinging It away, gave the Dolphin, that satt by,
a very sore blow therewith, and Immediately arising from the
Table, willed Andelott to be carried away to prison, and
shortly after deprived him of his Generalship of the Infantery.
Guard. This passage everyway deserves enrollment both
In bookes and memories. It Is an excellent president for great

278 IHS
personages in the like occasions as Andelott was, and serves
marvellously to lead us on to the discovery of the true Cause of
this Kings miserable end, and the utter desolation of his pos
terity. The effect of this rage lighting on his Son was a faire
warning what would be the Issue of his progresse In this quarrel.
And if, when he ment nothing but Curiosity, as in the first case,
and certainly ment Love to the Person whom hee converted, as
in this second, and was in both mislead, onely perhaps through
blind Zeale to the cause, notwithstanding his opposition to the
truth wrought so much to his owne damage and danger ; he had
just reason to feare no lesse then indeed befell him, when with
purposed malignity he sett himselfe to entrap Gods Saints, and
sought the rooting of them out for the uncontrolled exercize or
his owne evill Affections.
Affection. The Ignorance of this story makes mee, and
most heere, I am perswaded, uncapable of the Benefitt which
you and others that know It have. I shall therefore intreat
that wee may heare the particularities of the fact whereupon
you reare these weighty and usefull observations.
Guard. You say well. As there Is not perhaps any one
passage in these later ages to be found, wherein the frailty of
mans wretched estate appeares more conspicuous then in this,
so neither is there, it may be, any one whence more remarkable
observations and more profitable, may be collected, as well for
private men as greater Fortunes. I therefore second this
motion, and desire that our beloved Cheerefull, or you, worthy
Mother, or rather both together, would give us a fiiU accompt
of this matter.

XV

CHRISTMASTIDE, 1632— HOLY INNOCENTS'
DAY
The Martyrdom of Romanus — A Child Tortured — Fourteen
French Martyrs and their Mothers — Maximinian and the
Boy Martyrs — Feast of Circumcision — Christmas Gifts for
the Guests — The Priest and the Tavern — Oxfoi'd and Cam
bridge Scholars — A New Tears Gift.
Moderator. This Day would hax'e led us of it self, had
wee not beene before upon them, to the Consideration of
Sufferings, Death, and Martyrdome. Theres no reason there
fore to alter the subject, which doubly agrees to the Feast
and to that which went before.
The Innocents were Martyrs, and served up like flowers to
Gods table. And w^ee undoubtedly might compose many
sweet Nosegaies out of their Example ; but having riper fruits
in store, wee wiU not seke about for that which would perhaps
lesse satisfy.
You shall see a Martyr compleat In aU manner of vertue and
sufferings ; and that wee may e\ery way suit the Day, accom
panied with a Child, who in Innocence and Youth oequaUs
them whose Feast wee celebrate, but in understanding passeth
Men. You heare a Child confessing the truth with his tongue,
a Man confessing it without his tongue, that every way Gods
praise might be perfected, and the Enimy and A\'enger stilled.
And that \'0u may give the firmer creditt to it, you shaU have

28o IHS
it in the words of an Authour against whom, for matter of
ancient miracle, no Exception lies.
Wee will begin, sayth the Authour, with Romanus, the not
able and admirable Souldier and true servant of Christ, whose
history sett forth in Prudentlus doth thus proceed ; so lament
ably by him described that It will be hard for any man almost
with dry Cheeks to heare It : —
Pitlles Galerius,with his grand Captaine Ascleplades, violently
invaded the Citty of Antioch, intending by force of Armes to
drive all Christians to renounce utterly their pure religion.
The Christians, as God would, were at the time congregated
together, to whom Romanus hastily ranne, declaring that the
wolves were at hand, which would devoure the Christian flock ;
but feare not, sayd he, neither let this Iminent perill disturbe
you, my Brethren. Brought was It to passe by the great grace
of God working In Romanus, that old men and matrons,
fathers and Mothers, lyoung men and maydens were all of
one will and mind, most ready to shed their blood In defence
of their Christian Profession. Word was brought to the
Captaine that the band of armed Souldlors was not able to wrest
the staffe of faith out of the hand of the unarmed Congregation,
and all by reason that one Romanus so mightily did encourage
them, that they stick not to offer their naked throates, wishing
gloriously to dy for the Name of their Christ. Seeke out that
rebell (quoth the Captaine), and bring him to mee, that he
may answere for the whole sect. Apprehended he is, and
bound as a sheepe appointed to the slaughter-house. Is presented
to the Emperor, who with wrathful! Countenance beholding
him, sayd : What ? Art thou the Authour of this sedition ?
Art thou the Cause why so many shall loose their Hves ? By
the Gods, I sweare thou shalt smart for It, and first In the
flesh shalt thou suffer the paines whereunto thou hast encour
aged the hearts of thy fellows. Romanus answered : Thy sen
tence, O Emperor, I joyfuUy embrace ; I refuse not to be
sacrificed for my brethren, and that by as cruell meanes as
thou mayest Invent ; and whereas thy Souldlors were repelled

IHS 281
trom the Christian Congregation, that so happened because it
lay not in Idolaters and worshippers of Devills to enter into
the holy house of God, and to pollute the place of true Prayer.
Then Ascleplades, wholy enflamed with this stout answere,
commanded him to be trussed up, and his bowells drawne out.
The Executioners themselves, more plttlfuU in heart then the
Captaine, sayd : Not so. Sir, this man is of noble Parentage ;
unlawful! it is to put a noble Man to so unnoble a Death.
Scourge him then with whlppes (quoth the Captaine), with
knaps of Lead at the ends. Instead of teares, sighs, and groanes,
Romanus sung Psalmes all the time of his whipping, requiring
them not to favour him for Nobilities sake. Not the bloud ot
my progenitors (sayd he), but Christian profession maketh mee
noble. Then with great powre of spirit, he inveighed against
the Captaine, laughing to scorne the false gods of the heathen,
with the Idolatrous worshipping of them, affirming the God ot
the Christians to be the true God, that created heaven and earth,
before whose judiclall seat all Nations shall appeare. But the
wholesome words of the Martyr were as oyle to the fire of the
Captaines fury. The more the Martyr speakes the madder was
he, in so much that hee comanded the Martyrs sides to be
lanched with knives, untiU the bones appeare white againe.
Sorry I am, o Captaine, quoth the Martyr, not for that my
flesh shalbe thus cutt and mangled, but for thy Cause am I
sorrowfuU, who, being corrupted with damnable errors, seducest
others. The second time he preached at large the Living God
and the Lord Jesus Christ his well beloved Sonne, eternaU
life through faith in his blood, expressing therewith the abomi
nation of Idolatry, with a vehement exhortation to worship and
adore the Living God. At these words Ascleplades commanded
the Tormentors to strike Romanus on the mouth, that his teeth
being stricken out, his pronunciation at leastwise might be im
paired. The Commandement is obeyed, his face Is buffeted,
his eyeUds torne with their Nailes, his cheekes are scorched
with knives, the skinne of his beard Is plucked by Uttle and
Httle from the flesh, finaUy his seemely face Is wholly defaced.

282 IHS
The meeke Martyr sayd : I thank thee, o Captaine, that thou
hast opened unto mee many mouths, whereby I may preach my
Lord and Saviour Christ. Looke how many wounds I have,
so many mouths I have, lauding and praysing God. The Cap
taine, astonished with this singular Constancy, commanded them
to cease from the tortures. He threateneth cruell fire, he revUeth
the noble Martyr, he blasphemeth God, saying : Thy crucified
Christ Is but an yesterdaies God, the Gods of the Gentiles
are of most antiquitie. Heere againe Romanus, taking good
occasion, made a long oration of the eternity of Christ, of his
humane Nature, of the death and satisfaction of Christ, for all
mankind, which done, he sayd : Give mee a Child, o Captaine,
but seven yeares of age, which age Is free from malice and other
vices, wherewith riper Age is commonly infected, and thou
shalt heare what he will say. His request was granted. A
pretty boy was called out of the multldude and sett before him.
Tell me, my Babe (quoth the Martyr), whether thou thlnke It
reason that wee worship one Christ, and In Christ one
Father, or els that we worship infinite Gods ? Unto whom
the Babe answered. That certainely whatsoever it be that Men
affirme to be God must needs be one, which with one is one
and the same ; and inasmuch as this one Is Christ, of necessity
Christ must be the true God. The Captaine thereat cleane
amazed sayd : Thou young viUalne and Traitor, where and of
whom learned thou this lesson ? Of my Mother (quoth the
child), at whose knees I learnt this lesson, that I must beleive
in Christ. The Mother was called, and she gladly appeared.
The Captaine commanded the Child to be horsed up and
scourged. The pitifull Beholders of this pitiless Act could not
temper themselves from teares ; the joyfull and glad Mother
alone stood by with dry Cheekes ; yea, shee rebuked her sweet
Babe for craving a draught of cold water ; she charged him to
thirst after the Cuppe that the Infants of Bethlehem once
drank of, forgetting their Mothers milk and Pappes ; she
wiUed him to remember little Isaac, who, beholding the sword
wherewith, and the Altar whereon he should be sacrificed.

IHS 283
wiUingly proferd his tender neck to the dent of his Fathere
sword. Whilest this CounseU was in giving, the boucherly
Torturer pluckt the skinne from the Crowne of his head, haire
and all. The Mother crved, Suffer, my Child, anone thou shalt
fiasse to him that wiU adorne thy naked head with a Crowne of
eternaU glory. The Mother coimseUeth, the Child is coun
seUed ; the Mother encourageth, the Babe is encouraged ; he
receiveth the stripes and the sores with smiling Countenance.
The Captaine, perceiving the Child invincible and himselfe van
quished, committeth the sUly soule, the blessed Babe, the
Child uncherished to the Prison, commanding the torments of
Romanus to be renewed and encreased as the cheife Authour of
this evill.
Thus was Romanus brought forth againe to new stripes and
punishments, to be renewed and received upon his old sores ;
insomuch the bare bones appeared, the flesh aU tome away :
wherein no Pitty was shewed, but the raging Tyrant puffing
out of his blasphemous mouth like a mad Man, these words
cryed out to the Tormentors, saying : —
Where is, quoth the Captaine, where is your inight r
^^'hat r are ve not able one body to spill r
Scant may it, so weake is it, stand upright.
And yet in spite of us shall it live siill :
The Grype with talaunt, the Dog with his tooth.
Could soone, the dastards, this Corps rent and teare ;
He scornerh our Gods in all tha: he doth.
Cut, prick, and pounce him, no longer forbeare.
Yea, no longer could the T}Tant forbeare, but needs he must
draw neerer to the sentence of death. Is it painfuUe to thee
(sayd he) to tarry so long aU\e ? A flammg fire doubt thou
not shalbe prepared for thee by and by, wherein thou and that
boy, thy feUow of rebeUion, shalbe consumed into ashes.
Romanus and the Babe are led to the place of execution. As
they layd hands on Romanus, he looked back saving, I appeale
from this thy Tyranny, O Judge unjust, to the righteous
throne of Christ, that upright Judge ; not because I feare thy

284 IHS
cruell torments and mercilesse handlings, but that thy judge
ments may be knowne to be cruell and Woody. Now when
they were come to the place, the tormentor required the Child
of the Mother, for she had taken it up in her Arms, and she,
only kissing it, deUvered the Babe. Farewell, she sayd, my
sweete Child ; and as the hangman appUed his sword to the
babes neck she sung on this manner : —
All laud and praise with heart and voice,
O Lord, we yeeld to thee.
To whom the Death of all thy Saints
Wee know most deare to bee.
The Innocents head being cut of, the Mother wrapped it
up in her garment, and layed It to her brest. On the other
side a mighty fire was made, whereinto Romanus was cast,
who sayd. That he should not burne. Wherewith a great
storme arose (if It be true) and quenched the fire. The
Captaine gave in commandement that his tongue should be
cutt out. Out was it pluckt by the hard rootes and cutt of
Neverthelesse he spake, saying. He that speaketh Christ shall
never want a tongue. Thlnke not that the voice that uttereth
Christ hath neede of the tongue to be the minister. The
Captaine at this, half out of his witt, bare in hand that the
hangman deceived the sight of the people by some subtle
sleight and crafty conveyance. Not so (quoth the hangman)
If thou suspect my deed, open his mouth, and diligently search
the rootes of his tongue. The Captaine at length, being
confounded with the fortitude and courage of the Martyr,
straightly commanded him to be brought back into the Prison
and there to be strangled, where, his sorrowful life and paines
being ended, he now enjoyeth quiet rest In the Lord, with per-
petuall hope of his miserable body to be restored againe with his
soule into a better life, where no Tyrant shall ha\'e any power.
Patient. That which in this story is most wonderfull hath,
even In these latter days of ours, by the mercy of God beene
by fresh examples ratified.

IHS 285
Anno 1 546 there were at ... in France fourteene Martyrs
brought together to the stake, the fire being made over against
the house of Stephen Mangen, where they had used to keepe
their Assemblies. Before their execution it was told them that
as many as would not be confessed should have their tongues
cutt out. Seven yeelded, the other refused. Amongst the
last seven Mangen, who was one, after the cutting out of his
tongue pronounced audibly three several times. The Lords Name
bee praysed, confirming that which you heard In Romanus, That
he which looseth his tongue for Christs sake shall have no
mlsse of It for the setting forth of his prayse.
Cheerefull. The Mother of Peter Clarke, one of these
fourteen Martyrs which you spake of, will be a good companion
for that holy woman which tooke such joy in her little sons
Martyrdome. When shee saw her sonne John Clarke come
home, after cruell whippings in his body, with a marke of
infamy branded in his forehead, she cryed out with a loud
voice, Blessed be Christ and welcome be his prints and markes.
Affectionate. WilUam Hunters Mother deserves no
lesse honourable remembrance. Visiting her son in prison, she
saluted him with much Joy, telling him she thought herselfe
happy In bearing a child which could find in his heart to loose
his life for Christs Name sake. For my little paine which I
shall suffer, but a short brayd, sayd hee, Christ hath promised
mee a Crowne of Joy, and may you not be glad of that.
Mother ? With that his Mother kneeled downe on her
knees, saying, I pray God strengthen thee, my son, unto
the end ; yea, I thinke thee as well bestowed as any child that
ever I bare.
Guard. Blessed be God that we find so many Parallels in
this decrepit Age of the world, to those ancient Examples.
But how comes It that the faith and grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ, which shoone so gloriously of old in childrens brests,
is so eclipsed now, as there is none of us can out of their present
remembrance find a Match for this blessed Infant that accom
panied Romanus in suffering, and is now a fellow sharer with

286 IHS
him, not onely In the Glory of heaven, but even In his honour
upon earth ? It cannot be but Grace Is the same Grace that
It was wont, and serves to actuate childrens soules as of old ;
the fault Hes altogether, I am afraid, In ourselves. It Is not so
effectually applied on the Parents behalfe, for that it should bee
lesse abundant or lesse powerfully afforded by God now, then
at first, I cannot think : sure tis the Parents fault, that doe not
rightly prepare the ground for this heavenly seed. If there
were as right tilth and as good husbandry used nowadayes, why
should not there bee as good a crop of fayth and vertue In our
Childrens minds as was in theirs of the Primitive Church ?
And so much the rather I doe suspect this to be the cause, as,
mee thinkes, I have observed in all these stories an evident
acknowledgement on the Childrens part, that they had learned
of their Mother. I shall tell you a story which will confirme
your opinion, and seale up the belelfe of many other things
which have been discoursed of : —
Maximinian, having sent for two young Children of
Nicomedia, Brethren, and very nobly borne, began with such
faire words and promises as Children use to be taken with.
Afterwards he sent for some of that which In their presence
he had offered up in sacrifice, persuading them to eat of it, and
they should have no harme. They, turning away their
mouthes, fell a weeping and, as they were able, stamerringly
told him, they had not so learned of their Parents, but It was a
cleane other way that they had beene used unto. Hereupon
hee grew angry, chid them sharpely ; and when that prevailed
not, hee wUled them to be sorely beaten with many stripes.
But when the children, strengthened by Gods holy spirit,
yeelded not at all, a certain Sophister that stood by and had
beene a cheife instigator in the matter, seeing this, told the
Emperor he doubted not to make them eat quickly so he
might have the ordering of the busines. For what a shame
wlU this be, said hee, that the Romane Emperor should be
overcome by ChUdren that cannot yet speak plaine. Having
obtained his request, he compounded a certaine plaster of very

IHS 287
keene mustard, with which, after he had shaved of the haire,
he anoynts the childrens heads very thick. That done, he
carries them into a Bath or stove fire, hott, where the flame
instantly, like a flash of lightning, seized upon their heads. The
poore children, not able to stand upright for the torment, bow
their faces towards the ground, and after a little while the
younger falls dead on the floore, which, when his brother
saw, he bidds him joy as lowd as ever hee could. He embraceth
him, he kisseth him, and proclaimes him Conqueror, crying out
amaine and without intermission. Brother, thou hast gott the
victory, Brother, thou hast gott the victory ! Thus embracing,
kissing, and crying did the Child stand, till at last he fell downe
dead himselfe, with his Brother in his Armes. The spectacle
was very rueful! even to the persecutors themselves. As for
the Christians, It seemed so admirable as for the remembrance
thereof they built a Church over their bodies, which they call
by the Name of the Infant Martyrs.
Mother. The passage of this Festivall having been
hitherto so sutable in true good Cheere and Christmas Mirth,
as every body, I am sure, rests well apayed in their entertain
ment, I would be glad for a perfect finishment of the busines,
that in no kind wee might bee wanting to that which any
body can require touching Christmas, that our Love might be
likewise expressed to our freinds after the usuall manner of this
day, by the presentment of some such guifts as might serve
both for use and Benefitt to themselves, as well as for such
loving remembrance of us as belongs to Christian freinds.
Cheerefull. These two conditions of Durance and
Beneficialnes which you require in your present, cutt of
that hope which otherwise I might have had, to discharge
my part of this matter with ease and satisfaction out of the
storehouse under my charge, now well replenished with many
dainties through the kindnes of your loving Neighbours.
Mother. Tis very true ; the perishable nature and sleight
degree of good that is in these kind of provisions, yielding no
other benefitt then such fading pleasure as die In the very

288 IHS
enjoyment, debarres you from this advantage. Besides, this
would bee more wrong than bounty perhaps, whilst you should
pay your private Debt out of a common Stock. Let every
one therefore resolve to bring in their share out of that which
is truely their owne. The warning, I confesse, is somewhat
short, but according to the Spanish proverbe (Out of a fuU
Ambrey a feast is quickly made) I am sure theres none can be
unprovided to this Intent.
Cheerefull. Wee are richer then wee are aware of if it
bee as you say.
Mother. Theres none more deafe, I perceive, then he
that will not heare. The storehouse of Temperance under your
guard, the wardrobe of Sobriety under the Patients, the
workehouse of Industry under the Affectionates, are not
unfiirnished, I hope, to fitt the whole countrey, not onely our
small number of Freinds with New Yeares Guifts.
Guardian. Scarreborough warning.
Mother. You understand, I see weU, the progresse of the
busines, and aime at your owne ends in pleading for othere ; but
neither yours nor our most honoured Moderatours priviledges
may exempt you from this common service. I must humbly
desire, what I may not enjoyne, that shee will bring her part
of floiu-es and fruits out of her Nureery of Education, and that
you will out of the Treasury of Charity seeke such Jewells
which may fitt the severaU occasions and conditions of our
freinds. And first to beginne with, our good Cousen and Guest,
whose kind acceptation of our firugall entertaynment deserves
the best of our acknowledgement, his reall approbation of
Temperance, outgoing by example what you intend in rule,
gives assurance that there is Nothing out of that store house
that will not by him be esteemed as a dainty.
Cheeref. I have a story very proper to that holy caUing
which he intends, and very usefull, as I suppose, in these
corrupt times, If there were fitting space to make application
as large as the story would well beare.

IHS 289
Mother. To what is it now destrayned ?
Cheerefull. To the purity of the heart.
Mother. Why, thats the perfection of aU other vertues,
and that which I am assured our good cosen chiefly pretends
unto. The conclusion could not have beene In a better point ;
and for aU that It might be further extended unto, doubt you
not but his Learning and good heart will improve it to the
uttermost, and much better then you can doe. —
Cheerefull. An old holy man being by commande of
superiors called from that retired Ufe which he led, to Alexandria,
as hee passed the streets, saw one In a Preists habit enter, together
with some others, into a Taverne ; at which, much greived, hee
.setts himself over against the dore, and upon the Preists
coming out, singling him from the rest of the company. My
reverend Brother, sayd hee, knowest thou the worth of thy
profession and the excellency of thy ministry, that it is not
inferior to that of the Angelis ? That Apostate Julian under
severest punishment forbad the Preists of Bacchus and Venus
to sett foot Into Tavernes ; how can It befitt the Ministers of
Christ Jesus, the fountaine cf sobriety and purity ? That
Purity (repHed the Preist in an arrogant manner) which
Christ requires Is that of the heart, which, whilest it is
preserved intire, neither place, nor company, nor any other
outward thing can defile. He had scarce sayd thus, when the
old Man, spreading his hands to heaven, cryed out, O my God,
what Is this I heare ? Fifty yeares have I served thee day and
Night in all kind of Mortification of body and spirit, and yet
cannot attaine to that purity of heart which my Brother heere
can preserve sound and acceptable unto thee in the midst of
polluted Places and Company.
He that feeles not the taint of eviU practizes scapes not free
by that purity which he hath not, but by the predominancy of
some more grevious infection. He that is truely good Is
alwaies the worse for every willing fellowship with that which
is not good.
Guard. Though our cosens better abilities forbid our
20

290 IHS
descanting on the story before him, yet the weaknes of many
present, whom it may hereafter no lesse concerne, enforceth
mee to the remembrance of those three lamentable effects
which have happened by schollers going to Tavernes, in little
above the compasse of the last yeare ; that at least the feare of
bodily danger may terrify them whom the preservation of a
good conscience cannot overrule from this unchristian practize.
Theres no Man can think that these three that are come to
our notice are all the mischeifes that have lately befallen in
this kind, and much lesse that they should be casuall accidents.
No, verily. They bee serious admonitions intended by the
Divine Providence for our instruction, that wee should learne
to avoyd the sin, least wee be involved in the same punishment
as they were. I have heard that the Oxford schoUer, that on
Mldsommer Eve killed the Barber at the Popes Head in
London, was a civili man, and ment nothing lesse when he
went into the Taverne then the murther which he committed.
Sure I am that the Cambridge scholers, in whose company the
Lieuetenant was slaine at the Mitre, were some of them Persons
of good integrity of life, as well as of great eminency in
learning ; and he who, in his owne defence, killed that third
man, was undoubtedly as secure in his owne apprehension when
he went into the Alehouse from comming out guilty of such
misfortune, as any Man living could bee. Theres no security
then in a mans owne good minde when he enters into these
places where others disorder makes him runne continuall hazard.
Hee that cannot promise himselfe the mastery of the most
distempered Mens harts and hands that can bee, can have no
assurance of safety from the good temper of his owne. If
there could a Taverne or Ale house.be kept for sober mens
pleasure onely, there might happily be some ground for a conceit
of taking no harme in it ; but being, as they are, open
Randevouzes of all the debauched humours in the earth, theres
no man can sett his foot into them to be merry, without
manifest perill both of his Innocency, honour, and life. For
howsoever good the company bee that he carries with him, yet

I HS

291

he can give no warranty from the Intension of such society, as
the whole world can, it may bee, hardly furnish worse. The
truth of this is so evident, as I am confident there is no Man
that hath had any litle practize of Tavernes, but in his owne
experiment hath found manifold proofe of it, having often
seen contentions here raysed amongst the best naturd,
quaerels pickt against the quietest dispositions, and injuries
offered to the most harmlesse persons that could bee found.
That they have not growne to outrage, nor ended "in any such
inconveniences as these formerly recompted, must needs be
granted by them that rightly observe the matter, to have
proceeded onely from the overruling mercy and goodnes of
God, which he that goes on still tempting and abusing, after
such fearefull examples as these are, hath little reason to hope
of better successe then those other unhappy scholers had.
Moderat. You neede not have gone so farre as London
for a third Instance. The selfe same Mitre that you speake of
was the same yeare, if I mistake not, the stage of another
traglque Act that drew blood, though it brought not Death,
through the exuberancy of Gods mercy. Well, whatsoever
may be sayd In defence of the Lawfulnes, surely there
appeares notable danger in the entrance into these kind of
places ; and therefore, reserving myselfe to my owne place for
the making up this New Yeares guift for our good freind and
cosen, Ile give It now by way of precept to my son, whom
my praiers and vows have sett apart for this holy calling, that
he keepe himselfe pure and undefiled from this evill usuage of
the world ; and whenever he is invited either to Taverne or
Alehouse, let him answere. His Mother gave him charge to the
contrary.

UNWra BROTHERS,
WOKING AND LONDON

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