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  • BOOK 12.
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    f231 CONTAINING The Bloody Doings And Persecutions Of The Adversaries, Against The Faithful And True Servants Of Christ, With The Particular Processes And Names Of Such As Were Put To Slaughter From The Beginning Of January 1557, And The Fifth Year Of Queen Mary.

    THE ORDER AND MANNER OF THE CARDINAL’S VISITATION IN CAMBRIDGE WITH THE CONDEMNING, TAKING UP, AND BURNING OF THE BONES AND BOOKS OF MARTIN BUCER AND PAULUS PHAGIUS; ANNO 1557, JANUARY 9. F232 CARDINAL POLE, three years after his return into England, having somewhat withdrawn his mind from other affairs of the realm, and having in all points established the Romish religion, began to have an eye to the University of Cambridge, which place among others specially seemed to have need of reformation out of hand. To perform this charge were chosen Cuthbert Scot, not long before consecrated bishop of Chester, Nicholas Ormanet an Italian, Arch-priest of the people of Bozzolo, in the diocese of Verona, professed in both the laws, and bearing the name of the pope’s datary. Thomas Watson, elected bishop of Lincoln, John Christopherson, elected bishop of Chichester, and Henry Cole, provost of the college of Eton. There was good cause why the matter was especially committed to these persons; for as touching Ormanet, it is well known that he was a man of much estimation with Julius the third, at that time bishop of Rome, and was appointed to come into England with cardinal Pole, because without his knowledge (as in whom he put his chief trust and confidence) the pontiff would have nothing done that was of any importance or weight. * The residue were sent thither either for experience in matters of the university, or else they seemed of all others most meet to be put in trust with the handling of that ease, because they were taken for most stout champions and earnest defenders of the Romish religion, and of things appertaining to the establishment of the same. Some were of opinion that Scot, Watson, and Christopherson, busily procured this journey of their own heads, because there was grudge between them and divers of the university, at whose hands they thought themselves, lately before, to have received displeasure, and that now, time and occasion served to be revenged upon them, as they listed themselves.* These persons thus appointed (in the meanwhile as the visitors were addressing themselves to their journey) sent their letters with the cardinal’s citation before to Dr. Andrew Perne, vice-chancellor then of Cambridge, with the other commissioners associate, commanding him to warn all the graduates of the university, in their name, to be in a readiness against the 11th day of January, betwixt eight and ten of the clock, in the church of St. Mary the Virgin: *the same is the place of resort when there is any common assembly or meeting of the university, being not far distant from the marketplace of the said town of Cambridge; whither all men are summoned, if, at any time, there be any common-prayer or suffrages to be made, or if there be any man that hath ought to say in open audience:* willing him inespecially to be there himself in a readiness, and moreover to admonish a113 * all the residue, to whose charge it belonged, that they should search out all statutes, books, privileges, and monuments appertaining to the university, or to any of the colleges, or finally to any of themselves; and there to present the same before them at the day appointed, and every man to appear there personally: for they would not fail but be there at the same time, to lay before them such things as should seem necessary to this charge of reforming the university; and further to give charge of all such things as should seem most for the profit and behoof of the same, together with such things as were to be done on their part, according as should seem most agreeable to the decrees of the canon law.

    This citation of the cardinal, being brought to Cambridge by master Bullock, was first exhibited in the convocation house of regents, and there openly read by the orator of the university the 11th of December. *These letters the vice-chancellor caused to be set up in places convenient. This reformation was looked for certain months before, but now, when it was once certainly known that it should be indeed, every man’s mind was marvelously moved. Some greatly rejoiced that the time was come, wherein they thought that they might not only freely speak, but also do what they listed against their adversaries, who, beforetimes, had rejected the baubles of the Romish bishop. Other some, perceiving in what peril they stood, looked narrowly about them how to wind themselves out of the briers. Many sought the good will and friendship of such as were known to be in favor with the terrible commissioners. Other certain made themselves guilty, and desired forgiveness of them at whose hands they themselves had taken wrong before.

    There were also divers to be found, who, in time past, counterfeited to be very earnest embracers of the true doctrine, but, in their living and conversation, had greatly defaced it; applying to their own fleshly lusts, the liberty that appertained of right to the spirit, so that they thought it lawful to do what they listed. These men supposed there was no way but one to purge themselves of their misbehavior, namely, if they became accusers of those whose friendship they had erewhiles embraced: and to the intent to make men believe that they professed the Romish religion from the bottom of their hearts, and to curry favor with the commissioners, they promised to take upon them the order of priesthood without delay; for they knew the commissioners would like that very well, who already were in such wise minded, that as they would withhold no man from that order, that would offer himself thereunto, so would they by all means endeavor to bring every man thereto that was any thing witty or learned.* After this, upon the 24th of December, which was Christmas-even, the vice-chancellor with the heads of the houses, meeting together in the schools, it was there concluded, that the visitors’ charges should be borne by the university and colleges (which then cost the university a hundred pounds thick), and also that no master of any college should suffer any of the fellows, scholars, or ministers to go forth of the town, but to return before the visitation.

    On Friday, the 8th of January, the queen’s commissioners, namely, Dr.

    Perne, vice-chancellor, Dr. Segawick, Dr. Harry, master Frank, Rust, and another who is here nameless, also with sir James Dyer the recorder, master Chapman and Evered sitting together in the hall, certain were there called by the appointment of L. Hawes, and charge given what should be done. And first the commission was read.

    Then were all the high-constables called to bring in their precepts, and sworn. Also two of every parish of ten or twelve hundreds, were sworn to inquire of heresy, Lollardy, conspiracy, seditious words, tales, and rumors against the king and queen. Item, For heretical and seditious books, for negligences and misdemeanor in the church, for observation of ceremonies, for ornaments, and stock of the church.

    We said at the first, that the cardinal thought the university to have need of reformation. The reason why he should think so, was this; either because the same of long continuance, since any man could remember, had cast off the yoke of the bishop of Rome, and cleaved a114 to the wholesome doctrine of the gospel; or else by reason that both for the late schism, not yet worn out of memory, and for the doctrine of Martin Bucer, who not long before openly in the said university interpreted holy scripture, they saw so many so sore corrupted and spotted with this infection, that (even as when a fire is spread into a town) unless a speedy remedy were adhibited out of hand, it were not possible, to their thinking, to quench it many years after; who also feared (if it were not looked to in time) lest, *as it commonly cometh to pass in bodies diseased,* this mischief should take root, and by little and little infect all the members next unto it, which yet were whole and sound.

    This was the year of our Lord 1556. To the intent therefore to make a salve for this sore, the inquisitors, of whom we spake before, came unto Cambridge the 9th day of January. And as they were yet on their journey, and, not far from the town, divers of the masters and presidents of the colleges met them, and brought them courteously, first into the town, and after to their lodgings. They were entertained in Trinity college by master John Christopherson, master of the same house, and lately before elected bishop of Chichester. Notwithstanding they were desired, a115 some to one place, and some to another, as occasion served, either to do their duties, or to show their good wills; Cole to the King’s college, and Dr.

    Watson to St. John’s. But whether it were for the acquaintance of Christopherson, or for the largeness of the house, which, *forasmuch f241 as it was able to receive them all, seemed therefore most meet and convenient to take their conference in, and stood well for all comers to have access unto them,* they all took up their lodgings in the said college with master Christopherson.

    At their coming thither an oration was made by a fellow of the house, who, in the name of all the rest, with long protestation declared that they were most heartily welcome thither; and that he and his fellows gave them great thanks, that it had pleased their lordships to have so good opinion of them, as to choose their house especially to lodge in, whereby they had both encouraged them to stand in hope of some further benevolence towards them, and also done great worship to their college by their being there: wherefore they should look at their hands again for as much duty and reverence, as lay in their power to perform.

    To this oration Watson made answer, that this forward and earnest good will and mind of theirs in doing such courtesy, was right thankfully taken, both of him and his, exhorting them to continue steadfastly in the same, and to proceed also when need should require: for it was so far from any of their thoughts, to stop them in this their race, that they would rather haste them forward to run through more speedily, being not without good cause persuaded to conceive good hope of their benevolence towards them, inasmuch as they would do for them, whatsoever might turn to their profit and commodity. This day, forsomuch as it was toward evening ere they came, and the sun was going down, was nothing else done. The next day, being the 10th of January, they bestowed in recreating themselves after their journey, and in setting other things at a stay. Nevertheless, to the intent the same should not escape altogether without doing somewhat, they interdicted the two churches, namely, St. Mary’s, where master Bucer, and St. Michael’s, where Paulus Phagius lay buried.

    These men were dead a good while before Paulus Phagius had scarce yet showed the proof of his wit and learning, when he departed to God, 1549.

    Bucer lived but a little after. During which time somewhat by writing, but chiefly by reading and preaching openly (wherein the old man, being painful in the word of God, never spared himself, nor regarded his health), he brought all men into such admiration of him, that neither his friends could sufficiently praise him, neither his enemies in any point find fault with his singular life and sincere doctrine. A most certain token whereof may be his sumptuous burial, solemnized with so great assistance and gladness of all the degrees of the university, that it was not possible to devise more to the setting out and amplifying of the same the whole manner and order of the doing whereof being written by master Nicholas Carre, a learned man, in a little treatise to sir John Cheke, knight, with an epistle full of consolation as concerning his departure added thereunto, was sent afterward unto Peter Martyr, then abiding at Oxford.

    From the burial of Bucer and Phagius, unto the coming of these visitors, were passed about three or four years, more or less. And from the time that that blessed king Edward the sixth deceased, unto that day, the priests never ceased to celebrate their masses, and other kind of ceremonies in those places, and that without scruple of conscience, as far as men could perceive. But, after the time that these commissioners came thither, those things that before were accounted for sacred and holy, began to be denounced for profane and unholy. For they commanded that all those assemblies that should hereafter be made for the executing of holy ceremonies, should be removed to the King’s chapel, which is a place far more stately than all the others.

    Now was come the 11th day, in which the vice-chancellor of the university, with the masters and presidents of colleges, and all the other graduates of every house, were commanded to appear before the said commissioners in their habits. It was commanded that the scholars also should come in their surplices; but that was not done. They assembled in great number to Trinity college, having the university cross borne before them, and in the Gatehouse a form was set and covered, with cushions and carpet on the ground for the visitors; where the vice-chancellor, having on a tissue cope, sprinkled holy water on them, and purposed to cense them, but they refused it there; which notwithstanding afterward, in the Queen’s college and elsewhere, they refused not.

    There master John Stokes, common orator of the university, *one of the popish superstition (for none other but such, in those days, might be promoted to any worship),* made an oration in the name of all the rest; the copy whereof I thought good here to exemplificate in Latin, as it was pronounced.

    MASTER STOKES’S ORATION TO QUEEN MARY’S VISITORS AT CAMBRIDGE. ANNO 1557, JANUARY 11.

    Academia, reverendi patres, in expectatione adventus vestri sollicita aliquandiu fuit; nunc praesentia dominationum vestrarum valde recreata libentissime vultus vestros intuetur, et ad apertam voluntatis suae testificationem ecce universa se suasque opes effudit. Convenit in hunc locum tota Cantabrigiae frequentia, adsunt onmes ordines, de quorum certa mihi et explorata ad hanc rem voluntate illud publica fide apud dominationes vestras affirmo, eos, et separatim singulos, et conjunctim omnes, optatissimum hunc adventum mirificis studiis et consentientibus animis gratulari.

    Illud enim omnium animis habemus persuasum, et negotium hoc, quod hodierno die, favente Deo, excellentia vestra auspicatur, ad academiae rationes fore accommodum, neque in re ad communem salutem tam necessaria operam aliquando vestram nobis defuturam.

    Permulta sunt ad hanc opinionem confirmandam, sed caetera non persequor: ea tanturn oratione attingam, quae ita intime cum praesenti negotio cohaerent, ut divelli ab eo disjungique nulla ratione possint. Atque sunt illa quidem numero certa et finita; verum re et virtute ita immensa, ut nulla dicendi facultate mea plene comprehendi possint: quoniam tamen ut antea sum professus summam esse academiae laetitiam, eamque justis de causis in adventu vestro susceptam, quaeso a vobis ut dum eas breviter recenseo, faciles mihi aures praebeatis.

    Reverendissimus in Christo pater, cardinalis Polus, legatus, qui religionem oppressam restituit, patriae ruinas suffulsit, leges et decreta quasi postliminio reduxit, a116 iste inquam, iste Polus Anglus et vere noster Moses, legationis vestrae auctor est, a cujus excellenti virtute in omnes suae patrise partes plurima commoda dimanarunt. Quo vinculo necessitudinis, etsi omnibus temporibus optima ab illo sperare liceret, quod ex corpore simus ipsius reipublicae, arctior est tamen et interior causa, quae nobis cum dominatione illius separatim intercedit. Superiore anno academise procurationem in se humaniter recepit, quam liberari custodia ita coeptam tenere se velle literis significavit, ut non solum incommoda dimoveret, quibus studia nostra affligerentur, sed et ornamenta adjiceret ea, quorum splendore augeri dignitas aeademiae aut maxime illustrari posset. Quae res et spem antea nostram confirmavit, et nunc in earn cogitationem nos adducit, ut oranem illius humanitatem in hanc unam visitationem esse colleetam putemus, in qua quidem ea a vobis expectamus, omnia, quae summi cancellarii nostri insignis amor, praeter communem charitatem academise, quasi pupillae suse propriae pollicetur. Atque utinam quidem ipse sine reipublicae detrimento hoc tempore adesse posset, et academiam suam e tenebris et profunda nocte emersam ipse suis radiis, verae religionis splendore, illustraret! verum optioni nostrae publica utilitas repugnat, qua valde impeditus sanctissimae sedis apostolicae legatus vos vicarios substituit; quorum naturas propter providentiam, personas propter dignitatem, voluntates propter educationem, aptissimas ad hanc rem esse judicavit. Itaque illud vere et ex animis istorum omnium affirmare possum, vos eos esse viros quorum religionem amamus, virtutem colimus, voluntatem, fidem, et consilium ad publicam salutem impendimus. Postquam enim singulari et praestantissima virtute cardinalis Poli, legati, e superiorum temporum caligine et tenebris lucem in republica > respicere coepimus, una certe gravissima etiam superioris setatis mala sensimus, quibus profecto infinitis et miserrimis etsi antea premeremur, tamen ad calamitatis nostrae magnitudinem accessit ejusdem ignoratio, ut (mea quidem oninione] eo magis simus miserabiles judicandi, quod tam turbulenta tempestate jactati ne moveri quidem nos, tam gravi et periculoso haeresis morbo oppressi, aut aegrotare mentes nostras non intelleximus. Valde enim periculosa est aegrotatio illa, quaecunque sine doloris sensu naturam afficit, et affectos saepe prius extinguit, quam regrotare se fateantur. Ejusmodi morbo academia laborabat, quae ad alias fortasse res satis ingeniosa et solers, in hac religionis causa, propter caput ecclesiae laesum, unde omnis sentiendi vis est, omnino hebes, stupida, et sine mente fuit, quoad tertio ante hunc anno divina sanctissimi patris Julii clementia, Augliae fere emortuae miserata, iterum nos ecclesiae inserit, corpus sensusque recreat, cujus ope convalescens Britannia, quam certa gehennae pericula effugerit quivis facile intelligit. Idem academia cernit acutius, neque quicquam mali uspiam accidisse putat, quo nostra regio in hac religionis vastitate et schismate miserius fuerit afflicta. Non est opus recensere in hoc loco eversa monasteria, spoliata templa, strages sacerdotum, caedes nobilium, motus et tumultus populi, totius regni egestatem, quae etsi aliunde accidere possunt, tamen cure gravia sint ut opprimant, ultionis et vindictae potins quam probandi causa in malos et nocentes infligi putamus. Sed sunt ista fortunae ludibria; graviora sumus passi religionis et conscientiae detrimenta. Pietas in Deum omnis evanuerat, virginalis sacerdotum professio ad libidinem soluta est, animus quasi consopitus jacebat, quem nullae ceremoniae excitabant, ipsa mens opinionum veritate ita distracta, ita sibi ipsi dissentiens, ut infinitis erroribus implicaretur: in his erant duo praecipue fontes, ex quorum rivulis et hausisse academiam paulo liberalius, et illa potione refine inebriatam confitemur.

    Prior ortum habebat ex illa nostri violenta divulsione a catholicae ecclesiae unitate, re non dissimili illius pugnae quam olim Menenius Agrippa, in intestina civium discordia, de corpore humano memorabat. Posterior ex immensa palude et coeno Wicleviano emanavit: quem celebris apud nos imo miserabilis de Sacramento Altaris disputatio patefecit. De cujus rei veritate plerique suo sensu abundantes pro arbitrio quisque suo statuerat. Nos philosophos, nec illos quidem optimos, imitati ex Epicureorum schola ad Scripturae lumen aliquid attulimus. Quod enim Christus omnino, praecise, et sine exceptione, de vera et perpetua sui corporis praesentia affirmarat (in cujus verbi veritate fundamentum fidel nostrae collocatur), id nos ita sumus interpretati, ut mancam et alienam Christi vocem judicaremus, nisi illa Epicuri propria particula ‘quasi’ a117 adderetur, et quod Christiani corpus et sanguinem, id nos quasi corpus et sanguinem diceremus. Sed non est istius temporis praeterita nimiam meminisse, quae utinam aeterna oblivione obrui possent, neque ulla tantae labis memoria ad posteros nostros propagetur! tamen fuerunt attingenda generatim quidem, quod erranti confessio salutaris sit: membratim vero, qnod academia his vulneribus a censoria potestate confecta, a censoria medicina ad salutem reduci postulat. Ipsa vero pro se et suis spondet omnes in authoritate vestra futuros, quos assiduis concionibus adeo ad poenitentiam edocuit, ut et eos ad sanam religionem fidissime transisse, et, in eadem, diligenti praesentis vitae usa superioris aetatis damna sarcituros putetis. Nam qui primi in hoc cursu sunt, acerrime contendunt in eo, quod tam voluntarie susceperunt: et qui pigrius egressi quasi pomeridianis horis ad hoc certamen accesserunt, ea certe praebent jam immutatae voluntatis indicia, ut quomodo temere et juveniliter a sana religione defecerunt, ita non nisi mature et cum judicio ab haeresi descivisse videantur.

    Universis vero simul restituta et desiderata religio magis placere videtur, quam si assidue praecepta, neque ad tempus obscurata fuisset.

    Quapropter academia supplex et prostrata primum a Deo immortali pacem et veniam petit, precaturque ab eo, ut hodiernum diem ad suorum salutem conservandam et rempublicam hanc constituendam illuxisse patiatur. Deinde pro se, pro suis, pro universis, pro singulis, hanc petitionem ad celsitudines vestras affert, ut superiorum temporum offensas ex errore et injustitia profectas praesenti hominum industriae condonetis. De reliquis vero pro summa prudentia vestra, et singulari in nos amore, eam sententiam feratis, ut suorum causas vel justitia vestra bonas inveniat, vel clementia bonas esse faciat. In utroque par erit beneficium, sive academiam pro causarum aequitate judicaveritis, sive pro amoris vestri abundantia innocentem eam esse volueritis. Nos pro referenda gratia summam in sacris modestiam, assiduam in litteris operam, perpetuum verae religionis amorem, sempiternam vestri beneficii memoriam, repromittimus.

    THE ANSWER OF MASTER SCOT, BISHOP OF CHESTER, TO THE ORATION OF JOHN STOKES.

    When master Stokes had made an end of speaking, the bishop of Chester answered thereunto as follows:

    That they took in right good part, that the mother the university had made so open a declaration of her good will toward them; for the which he gave most hearty thanks, desiring her to perform, in deed and in her works, the things that she had so largely promised of herself in words and communication. As concerning their good wills, there was no cause to mistrust: for their coming thither was not to deal any thing roughly with such as fell to amendment; a118 but both the cardinal himself, and they also, were fully minded to show favor, devising how to bring all things to peace and tranquillity, desiring nothing more earnestly, than that they which have erred and gone astray, should return into the right path again.

    The right reverend father, the lord cardinal, whom he wished to have been present, wished the selfsame thing also, desiring nothing so much as with his own hands to sustain and hold up, now ready to fall, or rather to raise up already fallen to the ground, the university, his ward for he gladly, taketh upon him the name and duty of her guardian — whom it greatly grieved that the infections of the times past had spread abroad so grievous diseases, that even the university itself was touched with the contagious air thereof.

    For he would gladlier have come thither to visit and salute it, than to correct it, if the weightier affairs of the realm would have permitted it. But now, seeing he could not so do, he had appointed this commission, in the which he had assigned them to be his deputies, which, because they knew him to set so much store by the university, should extend the more favor to it; and (because they themselves had been there brought up) would the more earnestly embrace it. The chief matter that they came for tended to this end, that such as had erred should confess their faults, and return into the right way again: for they were in good forwardness of healing, that acknowledged themselves to have offended. And therefore it was wisely propounded on his part, that he would not altogether excuse the faults of the university, nor of other men, but [that they must] confess and acknowledge their crime, for that there were many things had need to be corrected and amended.

    The cause why they were sent thither was to raise up them that were fallen, and to receive into favor such as were sorry and would amend, wherein, if (contrary to their expectation) they should not be able to do so much with some men as they would; yet notwithstanding, according to their duty, they would show themselves so diligent for their part, as that no lack might be found in them. For it was more openly known, than that it could be denied, that many men did divers things of a froward willfulness, and took stoutly upon them: wherewith as they were greatly moved and aggrieved (as reason was), so they coveted to remedy the mischief. Against whom if any thing should seem hereafter to be straitly determined, it was to be imputed to their own deserts, and not to the wills of them. Neither ought such as are whole and sound to be moved withal at the chastisement of others, forsomuch as it pertained not only to the wiping out of the foul blot which now sticked on the university, but also to the health of many others which had taken much hurt by the infection of them. For their own parts they more inclined unto mercy than rigor. Howbeit, considering that so great diseases could not by gentle medicines be healed, they were driven of necessity to use stronger. And yet if they would be contented to be brought again to their right minds, which thing they chiefly coveted (for they wished that all should amend and be led by wholesome counsel), and would yet at length wax weary of their errors, and instead of them frequent again the ancient customs of themselves and of their forefathers, they might boldly look for all kind of humanity and gentleness at their hands, in all this their business of reformation, which they had now entered and begun, requesting no more of the university, but to do as became them; which being performed, he promised that their benevolence, neither in any public nor in any private person’s case, should in any wise be behindhand.

    These things being finished, they were brought processionaliter to King’s college, by all the graduates of the university, where was sung a mass of the Holy Ghost with great solemnity, nothing wanting in that behalf, that might make to the setting-forth of the same. In this place it was marked that Nicholas Ormanet, commonly surnamed Datary (who albeit he were inferior in estate unto Chester, being a bishop, yet was superior to them all in authority), while the mass was a celebrating, eft standing, eft sitting, and sometime kneeling on his knees, observed certain ceremonies, which afterward were required of all others to be observed, as in process hereof was to be seen.

    From thence they attended all upon the legates to St. Mary’s church, which we declared before to have been interdicted; in the which place, forsomuch as it was suspended, although no mass might be sung, yet there was a sermon made in open audience by master Peacock in the Latin tongue, preaching against heresies and heretics, as Bilney, Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, etc. The which being ended, they proceeded eftsoons to the visitation, where first Dr. Harry did, in the cardinal’s name, exhibit the commission to the bishop of Chester with a few words in Latin. Which being accepted, and by master Clerk openly read to the end, then the vicechancellor with an oration did exhibit the certificate under his seal of office with the cardinal’s citation annexed, containing every man’s name in the university and colleges, with the officers and all the masters of houses.

    Among whom was also Robert Brassey, master of King’s college, a worthy old man, both for his wisdom and his hoar hairs; who, hearing his own name recited next after the vice-chancellor’s, said, he was there present, as all the others were: nevertheless, forsomuch as the reformation of his house was wholly reserved to the discretion of the bishop of Lincoln, not only by the king’s letters patent, but also by grant of confirmation from the bishop of Rome himself, under a penalty, if he should suffer any strangers to intermeddle, he openly protested in discharge of his duty, that unless their commission gave them authority and jurisdiction upon that college, either by express words or manifest sense, he utterly exempted himself from being present. This his exception they took all in great displeasure; alleging that they were fully authorized for the order of the matter by the cardinal, out of whose jurisdiction no place nor person was exempted: wherefore he had done evil to call into question their authority, so well known to all men. Chester seemed to be more moved with the matter than all the others; and that was because Brassey had a little before obtained the worship of that room, even utterly against his will, and maugre his head, do the worst a119 he could against him.

    After the formal solemnity of these things thus accomplished, the commission being read, and the citation exhibited, all the masters of houses being only cited, every man for a while departed home to his own house, with commandment to be at the common schools of the said university at one of the clock the same day. When the degrees of the university, commonly called regents and non-regents, were assembled thither, they spent the rest of the day in reading over of charters, granted to the university by kings and princes, in searching out of bulls and pardons from the pope, and in perusing of other monuments pertaining to the university.

    The next day following, being the 12th of January, they resorted to the King’s college to make inquisition, either because the same for the worthiness thereof was chief and sovereign of all the residue, or else because that that house specially before all others had been counted, time out of mind, never to be without a heretic (as they termed them) or twain.

    And at that present time, albeit that many now of late had withdrawn themselves from thence, yet they judged there were some remaining still.

    The order and manner how they would be entertained of every college, when they should come to make inquisition, they themselves appointed, which was in this sort. They commanded the master of every house, together with the residue, as well fellows as scholars, appareled in priestlike garments (which they call copes a120 ), to meet them at the uttermost gate of their house towards the town: the master himself a121 to be dressed in like apparel as the priest when he ravisheth himself a122 to mass; saving that he should put on uppermost his cope, as the rest did.

    The order of their going they appointed to be in this wise: the master of the house to go foremost; next unto him, every man in his order as he was of degree, seniority, or of years. Before the master should be carried a cross and holy water to sprinkle the commissioners withal; and then, after that, the said commissioners to be censed. And so after this meeting, and mumbling of a few devotions, they determined with this pomp and solemnity to be brought to the chapel.

    Many thought they took more honor upon them than belonged to the state of man. Others (forasmuch as at that time they not only pretended the jurisdiction of the cardinal, but also represented the power and authority of the bishop of Rome himself, who was accounted to be more than a mortal man) said, it was far less than of duty appertained to his holiness, in that the honor that was done to his legates, was not done to them but to his holiness. Now was the hour come, at which they appointed to meet; and being entered the King’s college-gate, where they looked for the master and fellows of the house, seeing no man came to meet them, they proceeded forth to the church-door, where they stayed. There, perceiving a123 how the master and the rest of the house were dressing themselves, as nearly as they could, in such gear as was appointed before, they come in suddenly upon them, before they had set out any foot out of their places.

    Then the master first excused himself that he was ready no sooner, acknowledging that it had been his duty to have been in a readiness.

    Secondly, he said he was very glad of their coming, promising first in his own name, and after in the name of all the rest, as much reverence as might be, in all matters concerning their common utility, the which he doubted not but should be performed at their hands, according to his expectation.

    But like as he had done the other day in St. Mary’s church, the same exception he made to them now also; the which his doing he besought them not to be offended withal; for, seeing he did it only for the discharge of his duty, he had juster cause to be held excused.

    He had scarcely yet finished his tale, but the bishop of Chester with a frowning look and an angry countenance interrupting him of his talk, said, he needed not to repeat the things he had protested before, nor they to make answer any more to those things wherein they had sufficiently informed him before. He rather feared that their quarrel was not good, that they made such ado about it, and sought such starting holes: for so were diseased persons oftentimes wont to do, when for the pain and grief, they are not able to abide a strong medicine. As though that any man were able to grant so strong a privilege, as to withstand the pope’s authority. As for the pope’s letters, he said, they must needs make on his side, and with such as were with him, and could not in any wise be alleged against him.

    Therefore he admonished him to desist from his unprofitable altercation, and to conform himself and his to such things as then were in doing.

    After this they went to mass: which finished, with great solemnity, first they went to the high altar of the church, and having there saluted their god, and searching whether all were well about him or no, they walked through all the inner chapels of the church. The church-goods, the crosses, the chalices, the mass-books, the vestments, and whatsoever ornaments were besides, were commanded to be brought out unto them. When they had sufficiently viewed all things, and had called forth by name every fellow and scholar of the house, they went to the master’s lodging, where first and foremost swearing them upon a book to answer to all such interrogatories as should be propounded unto them (as far as they knew), they examined first the master himself, and afterward all the residue, every man in his turn. But there were some that refused to take this oath, both because they had given their faith to the college before, and also because they thought it against all right and reason to swear against themselves: for it was contrary to all law, that a man should be compelled to bewray himself, and not to be suffered to keep his conscience free, when there is no manifest proof to be laid to his charge; but much more unjust it is, that a man should be constrained perforce to accuse himself. Nevertheless these persons also, after much altercation, at length (conditionally, that their faith given before to the college were not impeached thereby) were contented to be sworn.

    Three days long lasted the inquisition there. This was now the third day of their coming, and it was thought that the case of Bucer and Phagius was delayed longer than needed: for they looked to have had much altercation and business about the matter. Now, forasmuch as the present state of the case required good deliberation and advisement, the vice-chancellor and the masters of the colleges assembled at the common schools, where every man gave his verdict what he thought meet to be done in this matter of Bucer. After much debating, they agreed altogether in this determination: that forasmuch as Martin Bucer, while he lived, had not only sowed pernicious and erroneous doctrine among them, but also had himself been a sectary and famous heretic, erring from the catholic church, and giving others occasion to fall from the same likewise, a supplication should be made to the lords commissioners, in the name of the whole university, that his dead carcase might forthwith be digged up (for so it was needful to be done), to the intent that inquisition might be made as touching his doctrine, the which being brought in examination, if it were not found to be good and wholesome, the law might proceed against him: for it was against the rule of the holy canons, that his body should be buried in christian burial. Yea and besides, that it was to the open derogation of God’s honor, and the violating of his holy laws, with the great peril of many men’s souls, and the offense of the faithful, especially in so difficult and contagious a time as that was. Wherefore it was not to be suffered, that they which utterly dissented from all other men in the trade of their living, laws, and customs, should have any part with them in the honor of burial. And therefore the glory of God, first and before all things, ought to be defended; the infamy (which through this thing riseth on them), with all speed put away; no room at all left unto those persons to rest in, who even in the same places where they lay, were injurious and noisome to the very elements, but the place ought to be purged, and all things so ordered as might be to the satisfying of the con-sciences of the weak. In executing whereof so notable an example ought to be given to all men, that no man hereafter should be so bold to attempt the like.

    They gave the same verdict by common assent upon Phagius also. Unto this writing they annexed another, by the which they lawfully authorized Andrew Perne, the vice-chancellor, to be the common factor for the university. He was a man meetest for the purpose, both for the office that he bare, and also because that by the testimony of Christopherson he was deemed to be the most catholic of all others. This supplication, confirmed by the consent of all the degrees of the university and signed with their common seal, the next day, which was the 18th of January, the vicechancellor put up to the commissioners. Note here, good reader, what a feat conveyance a124 this was, to suborn a125 this man under a colorable pretense to desire this thing of them by way of petition: as who should say, if he had not done so, they would never have gone about it of themselves. But this gloze was soon found out; for the commissioners had given the vice-chancellor instructions in writing before. But peradventure they thought by this means to remove the envy of this act from themselves.

    The vice-chancellor a126 came unto the commissioners, according to the appointment made the day before, about seven of the clock in the morning.

    He had scarce declared the cause of his coming, but that he had not only obtained his suit, but also even at the very same time received the sentence of condemnation and a127 for the taking up Bucer and Phagius, fair copied out by Ormanet the datary himself. This was to be confirmed by the consent of the degrees of the university. Whereupon a solemn convocation, called “Congregatio regentium et non regentium,” for the same purpose was appointed to be at nine of the clock; where the graduates being assembled together, the demand was propounded concerning the condemnation of Bucer and Phagius, and the grace asked, which was this: “Pleaseth it you that Martin Bucer, for the heresies now recited, and many others by him written, preached, and taught, wherein he died without repentance, and was buried in christian burial, may be exhumate and taken up again?”

    After this grace eftsoons being granted, then was the sentence of condemnation, drawn by the datary, openly read, and immediately another grace asked, that the same might be signed with the common seal; the which request was very lightly and easily obtained. And it was no marvel; for now after the death of king Edward, since the time that the government of the realm came to the hand of queen Mary, all such persons being driven away as had rejected the Romish religion (in whom well nigh alone rested whatsoever wit and learning were in the whole university besides), such a sort of rascals were put in their room, that all places now swarmed with unlearned and un-nurtured chaplains; to whom nothing was greater pleasure, than to cause all men to speak slander and reproach of Bucer.

    There were divers yet left among them to speak against their demands. But they (because, as it commonly cometh to pass, that might overcometh right) could nothing avail. For this is a common custom in all such matters and ordinances, that look what the greater number decreeth, is published in the name of all; and that which the *more part disalloweth, a128 seemeth as though no man at all allowed it?

    The next day, being the 14th of January, all the visitors (only Christopherson elect of Chichester, excepted) came to the King’s college; where, first going into the church, and there making their prayers at the greesings, they so proceeded into the stalls, there sitting all the mass time, the company standing in their copes, and singing a solemn respond in honor of the visitors. After the respond done, the provost in the best cope made to them his protestation, unto whom the bishop of Chester made answer also in Latin, declaring that he could not perceive to what purpose his protestation was, notwithstanding they would accept it and bear with him. Then went they to mass, which ended, the catholic visitors approached up to the altar, and took down the sacrament, and searched the pix, but first the two bishops censed the sacrament.

    Then they went unto the revestry, and opened the chalices, corporas cases, and chrismatory, and viewed all those things. And so returning into the provost’s chamber, divided themselves in examination of the provost, vice-provost, and the rest of the company. The same day Dr. Bacon, master of Gonville-hall, bade the vice-chancellor, Dr. Young, Dr. Harry, Swinborne, Maptide, with others, home to dinner. These men, immediately after dinner, caused the common seal of the university to be put to the aforesaid instrument of condemnation, according as was determined the day before by the general consent of the graduates of the university. And by and by after, they carried the same to the commissioners to their lodging; the which when they had received, forasmuch as (after more diligent perusing thereof) it liked them not in all points, some things they rased out, some they interlined, other some they changed; so that in fine, they were fain to take the pain to engross it new again. *About this time almost, one of the King’s college (of the number of them that chanced to be there at such time as the commissioners took a view of the ornaments of the church, and of other things that the priests occupy in their ceremonies), hearing Ormanet call for the oil wherewith sick folk were wont to be annealed (the which, as it should seem, he had never seen before), after his departure, being desirous to see what gear it was, a129 came to the place; but it was kept under lock and key. Then he inquired where it stood: and when he saw where, he demanded to have a sight of the thick milk wherewithal (and a little oil) men were wont to be annealed. a130 When it was brought before him, and that he had well considered it, it was so rank a131 of savor, that he was fain to turn away his nose, bidding them make that milk into cheese, betimes, or else it would stink so that no man should be able to abide it. But ere it was long after, he bought that word dearly; for there never yet wanted some Doeg of Edom or other, to bear word of such things to Saul: for they had their spies in every corner, who ever crept in among company.

    St. Mary’s church was not yet reconciled, nor the place purged from the dead bones and withered carcase of Martin Bucer; by means whereof, the trentals, obits, and anniversaries that were customably wont to be done for sir R. Read, knight, were appointed to be done at the King’s college, the commissioners being present at the same. The bishop of West Chester, or ever service was fully done, going out, called to him one of them that were there, whom he began to undermine with such kind of talk. “It is not unknown to thee,” quod he, “that the time draweth nigh, when Bucer’s carcase, according to the decrees of the canon law, must be digged up, and that which remaineth of him (to the intent all men may take ensample thereby) be put to fire (for so the holy canons have enacted), and the memorial of him be utterly condemned to oblivion for ever. Now, forasmuch as he was buried with great pomp and solemnity, we think it necessary that his burning be executed with no less solemnity and furniture. This assuredly is our meaning, and this toucheth all the degrees of the university; for it is a foul shame and not to be borne with, that so great reverence should be done unto heretics. Wherefore it behoveth every man by all means, to show evident tokens of the alteration of his mind, and it ought not to be thought a strange matter that this inquisition is extended upon a dead man; for if so be that in cases of high treason it be lawful to attaint a person that is dead, it standeth with reason that these persons, being more pestiferous and hurtful than those that are guilty of treason, should abide like judgment.

    When they were buried, orations were made before the degrees of the university, and sermons preached to the people; the like thing now also, when they shall be burned, do we purpose to have. Now because I understand that thou art an expert orator, and canst handle thyself well in that feat, I would choose thee before all others to do the thing, which, forasmuch as it shall be greatly to thy praise and commendation, I know thou wilt not refuse to take upon thee: and, for my part, I assure thee, I have the gladlier called thee hereunto, because I covet thy preferment. There is but one in all the university, that, when he was a young man, was my pupil, Nicholas Carre by name, whom, for the good will I bear him in that respect, I will join fellow with thee in this matter; to the intent thou mayest well perceive thereby, that I commit this charge unto thee to do thee honor.”

    The man, having this his oration in mistrust, answered in this wise: “He wished, with all his heart, that the judgment as concerning this case should be reserved to his betters, saying that he was not desirous of that honor; for men would not give credit to his words, neither was he able to devise what to say against so worthy a person, inespecially that might seem to have any likelihood in that behalf. For he knew not the man’s living and conversation; but, as far as he could gather by other men’s talk, he was a man of such integrity and pureness of living, that not even his enemies could find any thing blameworthy in him. As for his doctrine, it passed his power to judge of it, howsoever he were deemed to be of a corrupt religion; whereof he was not able to determine, considering it was a doubtful question among so great learned clerks. But this was manifestly apparent, that Bucer undoubtedly was a man of singular knowledge and dexterity of wit, which for him to abase, he thought it an intolerable unshamefacedness.

    Finally, for the estimation of so weighty a matter, it was requisite to put some meeter persons to the defense of it; for, neither in years was he grave and ancient enough, neither in wit prompt nor ready enough, neither in eloquence sufficiently furnished to take that matter upon him: and, if so be that he were able to do any good, he might serve their turn in another matter.”

    The bishop was still more earnest upon him: and when he saw it availed not to use this kind of persuasion with him, he fell into a rage, and at length bewrayed himself and all his pretense. For all this earnest entreatance was not to have had him say somewhat against Bucer (albeit it was part of his desire as occasion should serve), but to the intent that such as he suspected for religion should speak against themselves. And therefore he added moreover, saying: “Thou, at his burial, didst blaze and set him out marvelously with epitaphs and sententious meters, wherefore now also thou shalt neither will nor choose but speak in the contrary part; and this to do, I straitly charge thee in mine own name, and in the name of my fellow-commissioners.”

    After many words the other answered, that no man was able to show anything of his doing; and, if any could be brought before him, he would condescend to satisfy their pleasure, otherwise he would not by any means be induced to speak against him. At length, when none of his writings could be showed, the bishop desisted from his purpose.

    By this time, the sentence of condemnation was engrossed again;* to the signing whereof, a congregation was eftsoons called of all the graduates of the university against the next day, which there being read over, a new grace again was asked and granted for setting to of the seal *agayne*. a132 Then were the graduates dismissed, with commandment to resort forthwith to St. Mary’s church, whither the commissioners also repaired.

    When they had taken their places, Dr. Harry presented to them before all the company, a new commission, to make request upon heresy, then newly sent from the lord cardinal, which was read immediately by Vincent of Noally, Ormanet’s clerk, with a loud voice, that all men might hear it.

    This done, Dr. Perne, who, as ye heard, was factor for the university, exhibited to the commissioners in the name of the university the sentence of the foresaid condemnation; the copy and tenor whereof, hereafter (God willing) shall follow. This condemnation being openly read, then Dr. Perne aforesaid desired to send out process to cite Bucer and Phagius to appear, or any others that would take upon them to plead their cause, and to stand to the order of the court against the next Monday; to the intent that when they had exhibited themselves, the court might the better determine what ought to be done to them by order of law. *The sentence, by the common advice and consent of the degrees, he affirmed himself to have pronounced in the open assembly, as the order of law required.* The commissioners condescended to his request, and the next day process went out to cite the offenders. This citation Vincent of Noally, their common notary, having first read it over before certain witnesses appointed for the same purpose, caused to be fixed up in places convenient, to wit, upon St. Mary’s church door, the door of the common schools, and the cross in the market-stead of the same town. In this was specified, that whosoever would maintain Bucer and Phagius, or stand in defense of their doctrine, should at the eighteenth day of the same month, stand forth before the lord commissioners in St. Mary’s church, which was appointed the place of judgment, and there every man should be sufficiently heard what he could say. This commandment was set out with many words.

    Shortly after, the matter drew toward judgment. Therefore the day next before the day limited, which was the 17th of January, the vice-chancellor called to him to Peter-house (whereof he was master) Dr. Young, Dr.

    Segewick; and with them Bullock, Taylor, Parker, and Redman, Whitlock, Mitch, and certain others. These men cast their heads together how they might bear witness against Bucer and Phagius, to convince them of heresy.

    For seeing the matter was brought in face of open court, and because it might so come to pass, that some patrons of their cause would come out, they thought it needful to have witnesses to depose of their doctrine: what came of this their consultation, it is not perfectly known. *The commissioners (for they were marvelous conscionable men in all their doings) had great regard of the expenses of every college a133 where they should make inquisition. Wherefore, to the intent that none of them should stretch their liberality beyond measure, or above their power, they gave charge, at the beginning, that there should not in any place be prepared for their repast above three kinds of meat at the most; the like order the cardinal himself, in a certain provincial synod, a134 appointed in his diets a little before, to all his priests and chaplains.

    Therefore when they came to the Queen’s college, a135 the 18th day, to sit upon inquiry, and that one capon chanced to be served to the table, more than was prescribed by the order taken, they thrust it away in great displeasure. These thriving men that were so sore moved for the preparing of one capon, within little more than one month, beside their private reflections, wasted, in their daily diet, well nigh a hundred pounds of the common charges of the colleges; so that the university may worthily allege against them this saying of our Savior, “Woe unto you that strain out a gnat, and swallow up a camel.”* The very same day, the vice-chancellor, going in* to the inquisitors sitting at the Queen’s college, did put them in remembrance, that the same was the day in which, by their process sent forth the 16th day they had commanded to appear in St. Mary’s church, such as would take upon them to defend Bucer and Phagius by the law. He desired therefore that they would vouchsafe to sit there, if perchance any man would try the adventure of the law. They lightly condescended thereunto. When the vicechancellor had brought them thither, he exhibited unto them the process of the citation which he had received of them to publish a little before, saying, that he had diligently executed whatsoever the contents of the same required. After that they had taken their places, and that no man put forth himself to answer for the offenders, the judges called aside Dr. Young, Dr.

    Segewick, Bullock, Taylor, Maptide, Hunter, Parker, Redman, above mentioned. Also Brown, Gogman, Rud, Johnson, Mitch, Raven, and Carre, who had before written out the burial of Bucer, with a singular commendation of him, and sent it to sir John Cheke knight. These men, taking first their oath upon a book, were commanded to bear witness against the heresies and doctrine of Bucer and Phagius. The 22d day of the same month was limited to this jury to bring in their verdict.

    In the mean while, Ormanet and Dr. Watson abode at home in their lodging to take the depositions of them whom we showed you before to have been called to Peter-house, and to have communicated with the vice-chancellor as concerning that matter, whose depositions (as I told you) never came to light. The bishop of Chester, and Dr. Cole this day visited them of Katherine hall, where, as far as could be learned, nothing was done worthy of rehearsal.

    As Ormanet the pope’s datary was sitting at Trinity college, John Dale, one of the Queen’s college, came to him, whom he had commanded before to bring with him the pix, wherein the bishop of Rome’s god of bread is wont to be enclosed. For Ormanet told them he had a precious jewel; the same was a linen clout that the pope had consecrated with his own hands, which he promised to bestow upon them for a gift. But Dale misunderstanding Ormanet, instead of the pix brought a chalice and a singing cake called the host, the which he had wrapped up and put in his bosom. When he was come, Ormanet *spake him courteously, demanding* if he had brought him the thing he sent him for: to whom he answered, he had brought it. “Then give it me,” quod he. Dale pulled out the chalice, and the singing cake. When Ormanet saw that, he stepped somewhat back as it had been in a wonder, calling him blockhead, and little better than a mad man, demanding what he meant by those things, saying, he willed him to bring none of that gear, and that he was unworthy to enjoy so high a benefit: yet notwithstanding, forasmuch as he had promised before to give it them, he would perform his promise. Whereupon with great reverence and ceremony, he pulled out the linen cloth, and laid it in the chalice, and the bread with it, commanding them both for the holiness of the thing, and also for the author of it, to keep it among them with such due reverence as belonged to so holy a relic.

    About the same time the commissioners had given commandment to the masters of the colleges, that every man should put in writing what books he had, with the author’s names; and to the intent that every man should execute it without deceit, they took a corporal oath of them. *For they said, it was not lawful for any man to have, read, or copy out of those ungodly books of wicked heretics, written against the reverend sect of the catholics and the decrees of the most holy canons; therefore they should diligently search them out, to the intent they might be openly burned.

    They said, they gave them warning of these things which they ought not to look for; for these things ought rather to have been done of their own free will, than extorted by force. Which thing not only the canons commanded, but also the most noble and worthy emperors Theodosius and Valentinian made in certain places decrees, as concerning the writings of heretics, and especially against the books of Nestorius.* This commandment some executed exactly and diligently; other some, forasmuch as they deemed it wrongful, executed it slack enough.

    We declared before that the 18th day was limited for the day of judgment.

    When the day came, and that neither Bucer nor Phagius would appear at their call in the court, nor that any put forth himself to defend them; yet the courteous commissioners would not proceed to judgment; which nevertheless, for their contumacy in absenting themselves, they might have done, considering how that day was peremptory. But these men, being bent altogether to equity and mercy, had rather show some favor, than to do the uttermost they might by the law. Whereupon Vincent published the second process, and set it up in the same places, as in manner before. The meaning thereof varied not much from the first, but that it put off the judgment day unto the 26th of the same month; upon the which day the vice-chancellor was sent for to their lodging, with whom they agreed concerning the order of publishing the sentence. And because there should want no solemnity in the matter, they commanded him further to warn the mayor of the town to be there at the day appointed with all his burgesses, which the vice-chancellor did speed with all readiness. *While these things were a working against Bucer and Phagius, in the mean while they foreslowed not to make inquisition in some places, as the matter required. Therefore, when as almost the same time they came into Clare-hall, and entered into the chapel, which was their ordinary custom to do first of all, wheresoever they came, they perceived there was no sacrament, as they call it, hanging over the altar. The which thing being taken in great displeasure, Ormanet, calling to him the master of the house, told him what a great wickedness he had, by so doing, brought upon himself and all his house: for, although he were so unwise to think it no shame at all, yet unto them it seemed an inexpiable offense. The old man being amazed and looking about him how he might answer the matter, while he went about to purge himself thereof, made the fault double: he said it was a profane place never as yet hallowed, nor consecrated with any ceremonies. At that word the commissioners were yet more astonied, demanding whether he himself, or any other, had used to sing mass there or no. When he had confessed that both he himself and others also had oftentimes said, mass there: “O thou wretched old man,” quoth Ormanet, “thou hast cast both thyself and them in danger of the grievous sentence of excommunication.” Ormanet, being sore moved at the beginning, searched the man narrowly: how many benefices he had? where they lay? by whose favor or license he held so many at once? what excuse he had to be so far and so long from them? for as it should seem he spent the most part of the whole year in the university, far from the charge that he had taken upon him. Swinborne was so sore astonied at this so sudden disquietness of Ormanet, that, being more disquieted himself, he was not able to answer one word, neither to these things, nor to an other things, appertaining to the state of his house. Wherefore one of the fellows of the house, that was senior to all the rest, was fain to take upon him the maister’s turn in that business. This was now the twenty-second day, which I told you was limited to the jury, Young, Segewick, etc., to give up their verdict; who nevertheless, during the time that the inquisitors sat in St. Mary’s church, neither appeared that day, nor put up any thing openly against them that were accused whether they objected any thing secretly against them or no, I am not able to say; for, by like oath they were prohibited a136 to publish their depositions, as they were bound to bear witness.

    In this session nothing was done, saving that the vice-chancellor restored again the process for appearance, that he had received of them two days ago, the tenor whereof he said he had published, upon the contumacy of them that were cited, according as they had commanded him; whereupon he requested them to appoint the fourth day next following to pronounce the sentence of condemnation, which, without any difficulty, he obtained.

    For I showed you before that so it was agreed among themselves; and yet these bloody butchers would, for all that, seem meek and merciful men; insomuch that they would seem to determine nothing of their own heads, before that this most filthy executioner of other men’s wicked lusts had earnestly sued to them for the same: as though no man had been able to espy out their colorable conveyance, or as if we had cast from us both our minds and eyes, that we should neither understand nor see their crafty packing. Even so they, setting a fair gloss upon all their doings, sought to bring themselves in credit with men, to the intent that, when opportunity should serve, they might to their own most advantage deceive men unawares. Surely they might, not in any wise seem to do those things which they were most chiefly bent upon, and therefore they sought all means possible to blear men’s eyes, that they should not see them; but they could not so escape unespied. About this time they sent out a commandment that the master of every college, by the advice of his house, should cause to be put in writing how much every house had of ready money, how much of yearly revenue, how much thereof had been bestowed about necessary uses of the college, how much went to the stipends of the fellows and the daily diet of the house, how much was allowed for other extraordinary expenses, how much remained from year to year, what was done with the overplus; with a due account of all things belonging to that purpose: the which thing because that for the strangeness and novelty thereof it should not make men to muse and break their brains about it, they said that, before them, the colleges of Eton and Winchester had done the like. The cause why they coveted to be certified therein, was for none other purpose but to the intent that they themselves might see whether that they, to whose charge the custody and administration of those goods were committed, had behaved themselves so truly and faithfully, as, by their oath, they were bound to do: this pretense made these diligent and curious stewards of other men’s goods. But it was known well enough that this was rather a feigned allegation than a true tale; for it was their mind a137 to search what power the Clergy was of: the which forasmuch as they which were the chief heads in this business made an assured account of, to have willing to take their parts; they coveted to know before hand, and to have in a readiness against all hazards and adventures of fortune. And no man ought to surmise that this conjecture is vain, or that it dependeth upon a light ground, considering what a deal of armor, what a deal of artillery and furniture for the wars, the whole body of the clergy, but in especially the prelates (who at that time bare all the sway), had laid up in store at home in their own houses, or else put in custody of their confederates; the which, forasmuch as they could be construed to tend to none other purpose than to open force (inespecially in so cankered a time as that was), is it not a good likelihood, that, to the same intent and purpose, inquisition should be made of the strength of the university, which itself, to the uttermost of her power, was ready to sustain any danger or burden for the maintenance of that filthy superstition? But God hath looked mercifully upon us and pulled their swords from our necks. But let us return to Bucer and Phagius.

    Now was come the day of judgment:* which day, as I said, was the 26th of January, which being now come, first all degrees of the mother university were assembled. And to fill up this pageant, thither came also the mayor and his townsmen; and all met together in St. Mary’s church, to behold what there should be determined upon these men. After long attendance, at length the commissioners came forth, and went up to a scaffold that was somewhat higher than the residue, prepared for the same purpose. When they had taken their places, Dr. Perne the vice-chancellor, the player of this interlude, fashioning his countenance with great gravity, reached to them the process that was lately published, to cite them, saying these words: “I bring forth again,” quoth he, “to you, right reverend fathers, and commissioners of the most reverend my lord cardinal Pole,” painting out the rest of his style, “this citation executed according to the purport and effect of the same:” — omitting nothing for his part that might make to the commendation of this matter. When he had thus finished his tale, by and by the bishop of Chester, after he had a little viewed the people, began in manner as followeth.

    THE ORATION OF DR. SCOT, BISHOP OF CHESTER, BEFORE THE CONDEMNATION OF BUCER AND PHAGIUS.

    Ye see (quod he) how sore the university presseth upon us, how earnest intercession it maketh unto us, not only to denounce Bucer and Phagius, which these certain years past have spread most pernicious doctrine among you, to be heretics (as they be indeed), but also that we will command their dead carcases, which unto this day have obtained honorable burial among you, to be digged up, and as it is excellently ordained by the canon law, to be cast into fire, or whatsoever is more grievous than fire, if any can be. For the degrees of the university deal not slightly nor slackly with us in this case, but do so press upon us, and follow the suit so earnestly, that they scarce give us any respite of delay. And I assure you, albeit this case of itself be such, as that even the unworthiness of those persons (though there were no further cause), ought to induce us to the doing thereof; much the rather moved with these so wholesome petitions, it is meet and convenient we should grant it.

    For howsoever we of ourselves are inclined to mercy in our hearts (than the which we protest there is nothing under the sun to us more dear and acceptable), yet notwithstanding, the very law riseth up to revengemerit; so that the common salvation of you all, which the law provideth for, must be preferred before the private charity of our minds. Neither ought any such negligence to overtake us for our parts, that we, being scarce yet escaped out of the shipwreck of our former calamity, should now suffer this unexpiable mischief to disquiet any longer the consciences of the weak. f261 Moreover, it is but reason that we should do somewhat at so earnest entreatance and suit of the university. I need not to speak much of ourselves; for if we had been desirous to enterprise this matter, it had been lawful after the first citation, to have proceeded to judgment: but because we were willing that their defenders should be heard, and that the matter should be denounced and tried by law, we sent out the second process.

    If we had desired revengement, we might have showed cruelty upon them that are alive: of the which (alas! the more pity,) there are too many that embrace this doctrine. If we thirsted for blood, it was not so to be sought in withered carcases and dry bones. Therefore ye may well perceive, it was no part of our wills that we now came hither; but partly induced at the entreaty of the university; partly moved with the unworthiness of the case itself; but inespecially a138 for the care and regard we have of your health and salvation, the which we covet by all means to preserve whole and sound. For you yourselves are the cause of this business; you gave occasion of this confession, among whom this day ought to be a notable example, to remain as a memorial to them that shall come after, as in that which ye may learn not only to shake off the filth which ye have taken of these persons; but also to beware hereafter that ye fall no more so shamefully as ye have done. But I trust God will defend you, and give ye minds to keep yourselves from it.

    As concerning the parties themselves, whose case now hangeth in law, they bare about the name of the gospel, whereas indeed they wrought nothing else than thievery and deceit. And so much the wickeder were they, in that they sought to cover so shameful acts with the cloak of so fair and holy a name. Wherefore it is not to be doubted but that God will punish this despite, of itself wicked, to you pernicious, by the authors thereof a139 shameful and abominable.

    But if God, as he is slow to wrath and vengeance, will wink at it for a time, yet notwithstanding if we, upon whom the charge of the Lord’s flock leaneth, should permit so execrable crimes to escape unpunished, we should not live in quiet one hour.

    When he had thus spoken, he recited the sentence out of a scroll, and condemned Bucer and Phagius of heresy; the form and tenor of which sentence, framed after the barbarous rude style of that church, thus followeth.

    THE SENTENCE OF CONDEMNATION AGAINST MARTIN BUCER AND PAULUS PHAGIUS.

    Nos Cuthbertus Dei et apostolicae sodis gratia episcopus Cestrensis, Nicolaus Ormanetus archiepiscopus plebis Bozolini Veronen. dioecesis, infra-scripti reverendi domini cardinalis et legati auditor, Thomas Watson decanus Dunelmensis, et Henricus Cole praepositus collegii Etoniensis, ad universitatem studii generalis oppidi Cantabrigiensis Elien. dioeces, visitandam, necnon ad in quibuscunque causis contra personas in eodem oppido Cantabrigiae et locis ei adjacentibus commorantes motis et movendls inquirendum et quomodolibet procedendum, et expresse ad corum, qui in haeresi decesserint, memoriam damnandum, per literas illustrissimi ac reverendissimi in Christo patris, D. Reginaldi — tituli Mariae in Cosmedin, S. Romance ecclesim presbyteri cardinalis, Poli nuncupati, sanctissimi domini nostri papae et sedis apostolicae ad serenissim. Philippum ac serenissim. Mariam Angliae regem et reginam et universum Angliae regnum de latere legati — commissam, sive delegati specialiter deputati, et ad hujusmodi peragendum sufficienti facultate muniti, Salvatoris et Domini nostri Jesu Christi nomine invocato, pro tribunali sedentes, et solum Deum qui justus est Dominus prae oculis habentes, per hanc nostram definitivam sententiam, quam de sacrae theologiae et juris peritorum consilio ferimus in his scriptis, in causa et causis, qua coram nobis inter vice-cancellarium et universitatem Cantabrigienses, denunciatores ex una parte, et iniquitatis filios quondam Martinum Bucerum et Paulum Phagium, natione Germanos, et in hoc oppido olim commorantes et decedentes, reos denunciatos de et super crimine haeresis notorie per eos, dum vixerint, incurso, rebusque aliis in actis causae et causarum hujusmodi latius deductis, ex altera parte, in prima versae fuerunt et vertuntur instantia, pronunciamus, sententiamus, decernimus, et declaramus praedictos — Martinum quidem Bucerum contra regulas et dogmata sanctorum patrum, necnon apostolicas Romanae ecclesim et sacrorum conciliorum traditiones, christianaeque religionis hactenus in ecclesia consuetos ritus ac processus (qui singulis annis die coenae Domini per Romanos pontifices celebrari et legi consueverunt, in quibus, inter alia, Wickleffistae, et Lutherani, et omnes alii haeretici, damnati, et anathematizati fuerunt), de sacramentis ecclesiae, praesertim circa illorum humerum, aliter quam sancta mater ecclesia praedicat et observat sentiendo et docendo; ac sanctae sedis apostolicae et summi pontificis primatum et authoritatem negando et publice damnando; et praesertim hunc articulum — “Quod ecclesia erret in fide et moribus” — hunc in publicis comitiis expresse defendendo, et illum verum esse definiendo, et determinando; ac multa alia tam per damnatae memoriae Johannem Wickleffe, et id maxime — “Omnia fato et absoluta necessitate fieri — ” et per Martinum Lutherum et alios heresiarchas proposita et damnata, quam a se etiam inventa et fabricata, falsa et haeretica dogmata credendo et sequendo; ac desuper etiam libros scribendo et imprimi faciendo, impressosque publicando, in illisque scripta etiam hic publice legendo et in publicis disputationibus defendendo; ac in pertinacia et obstinatione hujusmodi permanendo et decedendo, notorium non solum haereticum, seal haeresiarcham.

    Paulum vero Phagium, qui (praeter alia qum haeresim sapiunt ab eo in suis scriptis prolata) impiae memoriae Johannem (Ecolampadium, ac Martinurn Bucerum praedictum, necnon Philippum Melancthonem, et Johannem Brentium, notorios et insignes haeresiarchas, et eorum doctrinam in ejus scriptis impressis et vulgo editis non solum probando, seal summis laudibus attollendo, se non solum haereticis favere, sed eorum falsis dogmatibus assentire, et ea credere et probare, ad eaque credenda alios inducere niti, manifeste se ostendit, et hinc pro haeretico communiter et notorie habitus et reputatus in hujusmodi errore impoenitens decessit, non solum haereticorum fautorem, seal haereticum fuisse. Necnon eosdem Martinum Bucerum et Paulum Phagium excommunicationis et anathematis, ac alias quascunque contra hujusmodi personas, tam de jure communi quam per literas processuum praedictorum, statutas sententias, censuras, et poenas damnabiliter incidisse et incurrisse; et eorum memoriam condemnandam esse, et condemnamus; ac eorum corpora et ossa quae hoc tempore perniciosissimi schismatis, et aliarum haeresium in hoc regno vigentium, ecclesiasticae fuerunt temere tradita sepulturae, quatenus ab aliis fidelium corporibus et ossibus discerni possunt, juxta canonicas sanctiones exhumanda et procul ab ecclesia projicienda, et exhumari et projici mandamus; et eorum libros ac Scripturas, si quae hic reperiantur, publice comburendos et comburi praecipimus: ac eosdem libros et Scripturas quibuscunque, tam hujus universitatis quam oppidi et locorum eis adjacentium, personis, sub poenis, tam ex jure communi quam literis processuum praedictorum seu quomodolibet alias, contra habentes et legentes libros haereticos statutis, interdicimus.

    After the sentence thus read, the bishop commanded their bodies to be digged out of their graves, and being degraded from holy orders, delivered them into the hands of the secular power: for it was not lawful for such innocent persons as they were, abhorring from all bloodshed, and detesting all desire of murder, to put any man to death! *Oh unworthy and abominable act! for which the university shall never be able to make satisfaction. How unworthy a thing was it, to do all the spite that might be to him being dead, to whom, being alive, she exhibited all the honor and reverence she could devise! How intolerable a thing was it to detest and abhor him as a wicked deceiver and leader out of the right way, being dead, whom, in his lifetime, she had followed and reverenced with all humility and obeisance, as her master and chief guide of* her life! What a monstrous thing is it not to spare him when he was dead, who, during his lift, being aged and always sickly, yet never spared himself, to the intent he might profit them! Nothing grieved him more, all the time he lay sick and bedred, than that he was unprofitable both to them and to the church of God; and yet when he was deceased, he neither found obedience among his disciples nor burial among christian men. If manhood and reason could not have obtained so much at our hands, as to spare his memorial or reverence his ashes, yet nature and the common law of all nations (by the which, upon promise made by the body of the realm, he came hither), ought to have withheld this so great cruelty and extreme barbarousness, or savageness, from his bones. Notwithstanding this infamy of the university so openly gotten, Andrew Perne, with his slanderous talk, more increased;* for, over and besides this oration and sentence of Dr. Scot, came in also Perne, vicechancellor, with his sermon which he made before the people, tending to the same effect, to the depraving of master Bucer, taking for his theme, the place of Psalm 133, “Behold how good and pleasant a thing it is,” etc.

    THE EFFECT OF DR. PERNE’S SERMON AGAINST MARTIN BUCER.

    Where, beginning first with the commendation of concord, and of the mutual knitting together of the minds, he alleged, that it was not possible to hold together, unless the concord were derived out of the head, the which he made to be the bishop of Rome, and that it also rested in the same.

    After he had made a long protestation hereof, he passed forth to Bucer, upon whom he made such a shameful railing,* that it is not possible to defame a man more than he did,* saying, that his doctrine gave occasion of division in the commonwealth; and that there was not so grievous a mischief; which by his means had not been brought into the realm.

    Although all men might perceive by the books he had compiled, what manner of doctrine it was; yet notwithstanding (he said) he knew it more perfectly himself, than any did, and that he had learned it apart at the author’s hand himself. For at such time as they had communication secretly among themselves, Bucer (said he) would oftentimes wish he might be called by some other name, than by the name he had; for this purpose, as though knowing himself guilty of so grievous a crime, he might by this means escape unknown to the world, and avoid the talk that went among men of him.

    Moreover, among other things he told how Bucer held opinion (which thing he should confess to him his own self), that God was the author and wellspring, not only of good, but also of evil; and that whatsoever was of that sort, flowed from him, as from the head-spring and maker thereof. The which doctrine he upheld to be sincere; howbeit, for offending divers men’s consciences, he durst not put it into men’s heads.

    Many other things he patched together of like purport and effect, as of the supremacy of the bishop of Rome, of the marriage of priests, of divorcements; and of shameful usury also, as though he had deemed the same lawful to be used among christian people, with divers other of the like sort. In all which his allegations, considering how lewdly, without all shame, he lied upon Bucer (as his writings evidently declare), he did not so much hinder his name with railing upon him, as win unto himself an inexpiable infamy, by forging so shameful leasings upon so worthy a man.

    But what needeth witness to prove him a liar? his own conscience shall make as much against him, as a number of men. It was reported for a truth, and that by his own familiar friends testified, that the said Dr. Perne himself, either immediately after his sermon, or else somewhat before he went to it, striking himself on the breast, and in manner weeping, wished (at home at his house) with all his heart, that God would grant his soul might even then presently depart and remain with Bucer’s. For he knew well enough that his life was such, that if any man’s soul were worthy of heaven, he thought his inespecially to be most worthy.

    Whiles he was thus talking to the people, in the mean time the leaves of the church doors were covered over with verses, a140 in the which the young men, to show their folly, which scarce knew him by sight, blazed Bucer’s name with most reproachful poetry. *Divers also that were somewhat more grown in years, and yet more fools than the young men, like eager curs (who had been well served if their legs had been broken for their labor), barked all that they could against him.

    And to the intent it might seem to be done by a great number, wherein the papists greatly vaunt themselves, they enticed unto the same business many that by all means favored Bucer, and that reverenced his name, as it became them; who notwithstanding, to the intent that under this pretext they might escape their cruelty, full sore against their wills, faintly and slenderly pricked at him?

    These things being despatched, Perne (as though he had sped his matter marvelously well) was, for his labor, of courtesy bidden to dinner to Trinity college by the commissioners; where, after the table was taken up, they caused the sentence of condemnation to be copied out with all speed: which, being signed with the bishop of Chester’s seal, the next day following was for a triumph sent to London, with divers of those verses and slanderous libels. Besides these, they sent also their own letters, wherein they both advertised the cardinal how far they had proceeded in that matter, and also desired his grace, that he would cause to be sent out of hand to Smith the mayor of the town, the commandment, commonly called a writ, for the burning of heretics. For unless he had the queen’s warrant to save him harmless, he would not have to do in the matter; and that which remained to be done in that case, could not be despatched till that warrant came.

    While this pursuivant went on his journey, they willed to be brought unto them the books that they commanded before to be searched out: for they determined to throw them into the fire with Bucer and Phagius.

    About the same time Dr. Watson, taking occasion upon the day, because it was a high feast, in the which was wont to be celebrated the memorial of the purification of the blessed Virgin, made a sermon to the people upon that psalm, “We have received thy mercy, O Lord, in the midst of thy temple,” etc.; in the which sermon he spake much reproach of Bucer and Phagius, and of their doctrine.

    THE EFFECT OF WATSON’S SERMON UPON CANDLEMAS DAY.

    He said that these men and all the heretics of our time that were of the same opinion (the which for the most part, he said, had budded out of Germany), among other things which they had perniciously put into men’s heads, taught to cast away all ceremonies. Whereas, notwithstanding, the apostle himself commanded all things to be done in due order. And upon that deed of the blessed Virgin and Joseph, which was done by them as upon that day, it was manifestly apparent, that they with our Savior, being then a little babe, observed these rites and ceremonies for catholic men to teach.

    For he said that they came to the temple the same time with wax candles in their hands, after the manner of procession (as they term it), in good order, with much reverence and devotion; and yet we were not ashamed to laugh and mock at these things with the heretics and schismatics.

    As he was telling his tale of Christ, Mary, and Joseph, one of them that heard him, a pleasant and merry-conceited fellow, turning himself to him that stood next him; “and if it be true,” quoth he, “that this man preacheth, which of them I pray you ( if a man might spur him a141 a question) bare the cross before them? for that might not be missing in such solemn ceremonies.” Not only this man jested at the preacher’s folly, but divers others also laughed at his manifest unshamefacedness, in preaching these so vain and foolish superstitions.

    While he was thus talking to his audience, John Christopherson, elected bishop of Chichester, being stricken with a sudden sickness, fell down in a swoon among the press; and with much ado, being scarce able a good while to come to himself again, in the mean time babbled many things unadvisedly, and as though he had been out of his wits. Some thought it came upon this occasion, because he had been greatly accused before the commissioners for mispending and misordering the goods of the college, and therefore was grieved with the matter, knowing that they had been offended with him by this, that Ormanet had canceled before his face a lease of his, by the which he had let to farm to his brother-in-law a certain manor of that college, because the covenants seemed unreasonable.

    By this time was returned again the pursuivant, who (as we before told) was sent to London with the commissioners’ letters, and brought with him a warrant for the burning of these men. Upon the receipt whereof, they appointed the 6th day of February for the accomplishment of the matter; for it had hanged already a great while in hand.

    Therefore when the said day was come, the commissioners sent for the vice-chancellor, demanding of him in what case things stood; whether all things were in a readiness for the accomplishment of this business, or no.

    Understanding by him that all things were ready, they commanded the matter to be broached out of hand.

    The vice-chancellor therefore, taking with him Marshal the common notary, went first to St. Michael’s church, where Phagius was buried.

    There he called forth Andrew Smith, Henry Sawyer, and Henry Adams, men of the same parish, and bound them with an oath, to dig up Phagius’s bones, and to bring them to the place of execution. Marshal took their oaths, receiving the like of Roger Smith and William Hasell, the town- sergeants, and of John Capper, warden of the same church, for doing the like with Bucer. Smith, the mayor of the town, which should be their executioner (for it was not lawful for them to intermeddle in cases of blood), commanded certain of his townsmen to wait upon him in harness, by whom the dead bodies were guarded; and being bound with ropes, and laid upon men’s shoulders (for they were enclosed in chests, Bucer in the same that he was buried, and Phagius in a new), they were borne into the midst of the market-stead, with a great train of people following them.

    This place was prepared before, and a great post was set fast in the ground to bind the carcases to, and a great heap of wood was laid ready to burn them withal. When they came thither, the chests were set up on end f267 with the dead bodies in them, and fastened on both sides with stakes, and bound to the post with a long iron chain, as if they had been alive. Fire being forthwith put to, as soon as it began to flame round about, a great sort of books that were condemned with them, were cast into the same.

    There was that day gathered into the town a great multitude of country folk (for it was market day), who, seeing men borne to execution, and learning by inquiry that they were dead before, partly detested and abhorred the extreme cruelty of the commissioners toward the rotten carcases, and partly laughed at their folly in making such preparature: “for what needeth any weapon,” said they, “as though they were afraid that the dead bodies, which felt them not, would do them some harm? or to what purpose serveth that chain wherewith they are tied, since they might be burnt loose without peril? For it was not to be feared that they would run away.”

    Thus, every body that stood by found fault with the cruelness of the deed, either sharply or else lightly, as every man’s mind gave him. There were very few (and those not of sound and wholesome religion) that liked their doing therein.

    In the mean time that they were a roasting in the fire, Watson went into the pulpit in St. Mary’s church, and there, before his audience, railed upon their doctrine, as wicked and erroneous, saying, that it was the ground of all mischief that had happened of a long time in the commonweal.

    THE PURPOSE OF DR. WATSON’S SERMON AGAINST BUCER AND PHAGIUS. “For behold,” said he, “as well the prosperity, as the adversity, of these years that have ensued, and ye shall find that all things have chanced unluckily to them that have followed this new-found faith; as contrarily all things have happened fortunately to them that have eschewed it. What robbing and polling (quoth he) have we seen in this realm, as long as religion was defaced with sects; the common treasure (gathered for the maintenance of the whole public weal) and the goods of the realm shamefully spent in waste for the maintenance of a few folks’ lusts; all good order broken, all discipline cast aside; holidays appointed to the solemnizing of ceremonies neglected; and that more is, the places themselves beaten down; flesh and other kind of prohibited sustenance eaten everywhere upon days forbidden, without remorse of conscience; the priests had in derision; the mass railed upon; no honor done to the sacraments of the church; all estates and degrees given to such a licentious liberty, without check, that all things may seem to draw to their utter ruin and decay. “And yet in the mean time, the name of the gospel was pretended outwardly, as though that for it men ought of duty to give credit to their erroneous opinions; whereas indeed there is nothing more discrepant, or more to the slander of God’s word than the same.

    For what other thing taught they to remain in that most blessed and mystical sacrament of the body of our Lord, than bare unleavened bread? And what else do the remnant of them teach unto this day? whereas Christ by express words doth assure it to be his very body. How perilous a doctrine is that which concerneth the fatal and absolute necessity of predestination? and yet they set it out in such wise, that they have left no choice at all in things. As who should say, it skilled not what a man purposed of any matter, since he had not the power to determine otherwise than the matter should come to pass. The which was the peculiar opinion of them that made God the author of evil, bringing men, through this persuasion, into such a careless security of the everlasting eternity, that in the mean season it made no matter either toward salvation, or damnation, what a man did in this life. These errors (which were not even among the heathen men) were defended by them with great stoutness.”

    These and many such other things he slanderously and falsely alleged against Bucer, whose doctrine (in such sort as he himself taught it) either he would not understand, or else he was minded to slander. And yet he was not ignorant, that Bucer taught none other things than the very same whereunto both he and Scot, in the reign of king Edward the sixth, had willingly assented, by subscribing thereto with their own hands. While he talked in this wise before the people, many of them that had written verses before, did set up others new, in the which, like a sort of water-frogs, they spewed out their venomous malice against Bucer and Phagius. This was the last act of this interlude, and yet there remained a few things to be done, among the which was the reconciling of two churches, of our Lady and of St. Michael, a142 which we declared to have been interdicted before.

    This was done the next day following, by the aforesaid bishop of Chester, a143 with as much ceremonial solemnity as the law required. But that impartate god, whom Bucer’s carcase had chased from thence, was not yet returned thither again; neither was it lawful for him to come there any more, unless he were brought thither with great solemnity. As I suppose, during all the time of his absence, he was entertained by the commissioners at Trinity college, and there continued as a sojourner. For thither came all the graduates of the university, the 8th of February, of gentleness and courtesy, to bring him home again. Amongst the which number, the bishop of Chester (worthy for his estate to come nearest to him, because he was a bishop) took and carried him clad in a long rochet, and a large tippet of sarcenet about his neck, wherein he wrapped his idol also. Ormanet the datary had given the same a little before to the university, for that and such like purposes.

    When this idol should return home, he went not the straightest and nearest way, as other folks are wont to go; but he fetched a windlass a144 about the most part of the town, and roamed through so many of the streets, that it was a large hour and more ere he could find the way into his. church again. (I believe the ancient Romans observed a custom not much unlike this in their procession, when they made supplications at the shrines of all their gods.) The order of which procession was this; the masters regents went before, singing with a loud voice, “Salve festa dies,” a145 etc. Next them followed the bishop of Chester; about him went Ormanet and his fellow-commissioners, with the, masters of the colleges, bearing every man a long taper-light in his hand. After whom, a little space off, followed other degrees of the university. Last, behind came the mayor and his townsmen.

    Before them all went the beadles, crying to such as they met, that they should bow themselves humbly before the host. If any refused so to do, they threatened to send them forthwith to the toll-booth. Their god being led with this pomp, and pacified with great sacrificed hosts of Bucer and Phagius, at length settled himself again in his accustomed room.

    Scot of Chester prayed with many words, that that day might be lucky and fortunate to himself, and to all that were present, and that from that day forward (now that God’s wrath was appeased, and all other things set in good order), all men should make themselves conformable to peace and quietness, namely f270 , a146 in matters appertaining to religion. After this, they bestowed a few days in punishing and amercing such as they thought had deserved it. Some they suspended from giving voices either to their own preferment, or to the preferment of any other. Some they forbade to have the charge of pupils, lest they should infect the tender youth (being pliable, to take what print soever should be laid upon them) with corrupt doctrine and heresy. Others they chastised wrongfully without any desert; and many a one they punished, contrary to all right and reason.

    Last of all they set forth certain statutes, by the which they would have the university hereafter ordered. Wherein they enacted many things as concerning the election of their officers of the university, of keeping and administering the goods of the university, and of many other things. But especially they handled the matter very circumspectly for religion, in the which they were so scrupulous, that they replenished all things either with open blasphemy, or with ridiculous superstition. For they prescribed at how many masses every man should be day by day, and how many Pater-nosters and Aves every man should say when he should enter into the church; and in his entrance, after what sort he should bow himself to the altar, and how to the master of the house; what he should do there, and how long he should tarry; how many, and what prayers he should say; what, and how he should sing; what meditations others should use while the priest is in his Memento mumbling secretly to himself; what time of the mass a man should stand, and when he should sit down; when he should make curtsy, when exclusively, when inclusively; and many other superstitious toys they decreed, that it was a sport then to behold their superstitions, and were tedious now to recite them.

    Moreover these masters of good order, for fashion’s sake, ordained that every man should put on a surplice, not torn nor worn, but clean, forbidding them in any wise to wipe their noses thereon; *and these are the things which we told you before, that some noted Ormanet, how devoutly he observed them in the king’s chapel. Al the which (under a great penalty to such as omitted them) were enjoyned commonly to al men alike.* These things thus set at a stay, when the commissioners were now ready to go their ways, the university, for so great benefits ( which she would not should be suffered a147 to fall out of remembrance many years to come), coveting to show some token of courtesy towards them again, * commenced a148 * Ormanet and Cole with the degree of doctorship; for all the residue (saving Christopherson, who now, by reason he was elected bishop, *had prevented* that degree) had received that honor before. Thus at length were sent away these peace-makers, that came to pacify strifes and quarrels, who, through provoking every man to accuse one another, left such gaps and breaches in men’s hearts at their departure, that to this day they could never be closed nor joined again together.

    These commissioners, before they departed out of the university, gave commandment, that the masters of every house should copy out their statutes, the which, besides common ordinances, contained in them certain rules of private order for every house particularly. Swinborne (who as I said, was master of Clare-hall) being demanded whether he would have those things engrossed in parchment or in paper, answered, that it made no matter wherein they were written; for the paper, or slighter thing that were of less continuance than paper, would serve the turn well enough: for, he said, a slenderer thing than that, would last a great deal longer than those decrees should stand in force. Neither was the man deceived in his conjecture; for within two years after, God, beholding us with mercy, called queen Mary *(which princess the cardinal, and the rest of the bishops of England, miserably abused to the utter destruction of Christ’s church)* out of this life the 17th of November, anno 1558; after whom her sister Elizabeth succeeded in the kingdom; *the like of which princess a man shall not lightly find, in perusing the chronicles, to have reigned in many hundred years before*. She raised to life again the true religion, *being not only sore appalled and commanded to seek her a new dwelling place, but in manner burnt up and consumed to ashes; the which, after the time it once began to recover strength again, and by little and little to lift up her head, the filthy dregs of the Romish juggling-casts a149 began forthwith to melt away. Whereupon the church of God began to be edified again in England, the building whereof the Sanballats and Tobiases did not only as then hinder and waste, but, even at this day also (as Satan is a most subtle slanderer), work all the policies they can devise, that the truth (which is not dark unless men will be blinded willfully) should not come abroad and be seen in the light. While the broken and decayed places in this work were in repairing, it came to remembrance how the right reverend father, and sometime our schoolmaister, Martin Bucer, with Paulus Phagius, being taken with the violent tempest of the former times, were thrown down out of their standing which they had in the wall of this building; whom the most reverend fathers in Christ, Matthew Parker, now archbishop of Canterbury and primate of all England (who before, at his burial, preached honorably of him), and Edmund Grindall, bishop of London (who, among the rest that did him a150 that service, did help to bear him in his coffin to burial on his shoulders), and other both honorable and worshipful persons — among whom was Walter Haddon, master of the Requests to the queen’s highness, who made a funeral oration of the death of Bucer, being himself half dead — these having received commission of the queen’s majesty to make a reformation of religion in the university of Cambridge and other parts of the realm, decreed that they should be set in their places again. For the performance whereof, the foresaid right-reverend fathers addressed their letters to the vice-chancellor and the graduates of the university. Andrew Perne bare still that office; who, by his good will, could not abide to hear one word spoken as touching the full restitution of Bucer and Phagius. When he had perused these letters, he propounded the matter to the degrees of the university, whether it pleased them that the degrees and titles of honor, taken away from Martin Bucer and Paulus Phagius by the verdict of the whole university, should, by the same, be fully restored again; and that all acts done against them and their doctrine should be repealed and disannulled: the which demands were openly consented unto by all the graduates of the university. This was about the twenty-second day of July, in the year of our Lord 1560.

    Albeit that this had been sufficient to restore them lawfully again, nevertheless forasmuch as it seemed not enough in consideration of the dignity of so worthy men, and in satisfaction of the duty of the university, they that were the chief doers in this matter called a congregation in St.

    Mary’s church, at the last day of the same month saving one: in the which place consultation was had concerning Bucer and Phagius, not with so great furniture and gloriousness (which things the truth seeketh not greedily for), but with honest comeliness, to the intent to reconcile men’s hearts again. An oration was made by Acworth, the common orator of the university, whose words I will rehearse in order as he spake them.* THE ORATION OF MASTER ACWORTH, ORATOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, AT THE RESTITUTION OF MARTIN BUCER, AND PAULUS PHAGIUS.

    I am in doubt whether I may entreat of the praise and commendation of so great a clerk (for the celebrating whereof, this assembly and concourse of yours is made this day); or of the vices and calamities, out of the which we be newly delivered; or of them both, considering the one cannot be mentioned without the other.

    In the which times ye felt so much anguish and sorrow, my right dear brethren, that if I should repeat them, and bring them to remembrance again, I fear me, I should not so much work a just hatred in us towards them, for the injuries received in them, as renew our old sorrow and heaviness. Again, men must needs account me unadvised and foolish in my doing, if I should think myself able to make him which hath lived before your eyes a151 in praise and estimation, more famous and notable by my oration, which he, by his living and conversation, hath oftentimes polished.

    But the wickedness of the times, which endeavored to wipe clean out of remembrance of men the name that was so famous and renowned in every man’s mouth, did much profit him: insomuch, that both in his lifetime all things redounded to his continual renown, and especially a152 after his decease, nothing could be devised more honorable, than with so solemn furniture and ceremonies, to have gone about to hurt the memorial of such a worthy man, and yet could not bring to pass the thing that was so sore coveted; but rather brought that thing to pass, which was chiefly sought to be avoided. For the desire that men have of the dead, hath purchased to many men everlasting fame, and hath not taken away immortality, but rather amplified and increased the same. By means whereof it cometh to pass, that he that will entreat of those things that pertain to the praise of Bucer after his death, cannot choose but speak of the crabbedness of the times past, upon the which riseth a great increase and augmentation of his praise. But his life so excellently set forth, not only by the writings of the clerks, Cheke and Carre, and by the lively voice of the right famous Dr. Haddon, uttered in this place to the great admiration of all the hearers, when his body should be laid into his grave to be buried; and after his burial, by the godly and most holy preachings of the right reverend father in Christ the archbishop of Canterbury that now is, and of Dr. Redman, the which for the worthiness and excellency of them, ought to stick longer in our minds unwritten, than many things that are penned and put in print; but also by the great assembly of all the degrees of the university the same day, in bringing him to his grave, and, the next day after, by the industry of every man that was indued with any knowledge in the Greek or Latin tongues; of the which, there was no man but set up some verses, as witness of his just and unfeigned sorrow upon the walls of the church: that neither at that time any reverence or duty which is due to the dead departing out of this life. was then overslipped, or now remaineth undone, that may seem to pertain either to the celebrating of the memorial of so holy or famous a person, or to the consecrating of him to everlasting memory.

    We, at that time, saw with our eyes this university flourishing by his institutions, the love of sincere religion not only engendered, but also confirmed and strengthened through his continual and daily preaching. Insomuch, that at such time as he was suddenly taken from us, there was scarce any man that for sorrow could find in his heart to bear with the present state of this life, but that either he wished with all his heart to depart out of this life with Bucer into another, and by dying to follow him into immortality, or else endeavored himself with weeping and sighing to call him again, being despatched of all troubles, into the prison of this body, out of the which he is escaped, lest he should leave us, as it were, standing in battle-array without a captain, and he himself as one cashed, a153 depart with his wages; or, as one discharged out of the camp, withdraw himself to the everlasting quietness and tranquillity of the soul. Therefore all men evidently declared at that time, both how sore they took his death to heart, and also how hardly they could away with the misture of such a man.

    As long as the ardent love of his religion (wherewith we were inflamed) flourished, it wrought in our hearts an incredible desire of his presence among us. But after the time that the godly man ceased to be any more in our sight and in our eyes, that ardent and burning love of religion by little and little waxed cold in our minds, and according to the times that came after (which were both miserable, and to our utter undoing), it began not by little and little to be darkened, but it altogether vanished away, and turned into nothing. For we fell again into the troublesomeness of the popish doctrine; the old rites and customs of the Romish church were restored again, not to the garnishment and beautifying of the christian religion (as they surmised); but to the utter defacing, violating, and defiling of the same. Death was set before the eyes of such as persevered in the christian doctrine that they had learned before. They were banished the realm that would not apply themselves to the time, and do as other men did. Such as remained, were enforced either to dissemble, or to hide themselves, and creep into corners; or else, as it were by drinking of the charmed cup of Circe, to be turned and altered, not only from the nature of man into the nature of brute beasts, but (that far worse and much more monstrous is) from the likeness of God and his angels, into the likeness of devils: and all England was infected with this malady.

    But I would to God the corruption of those times, which overwhelmed all the whole realm, had not at least-wise yet pierced every part and member thereof; of the which there was not one but that (besides the grief that it felt, with the residue of the body, by reason of the sickness and contagion spread into the whole), had some sorrow and calamity peculiarly by itself.

    And to omit the rest (of the which to entreat, this place is not appointed, nor the time requireth aught to be spoken), this dwelling-place of the Muses (which we call the university), may be a sufficient witness what we may judge of all the rest of the body; for certainly, my brethren, the thing is not to be dissembled, that cannot be hidden. We, applying ourselves to those most filthy times, have most shamefully yielded, like faint-hearted cowards which had not the stomachs to sustain the adversities of poverty, banishment, and death, which in our living and conversation kept neither the constancy taught us by philosophy, nor yet the patience taught us by holy Scripture, which have done all things at the commandment of others. And therefore that which the poet (although in another sense) hath trimly spoken, may well be thought to have been truly prophesied upon us: “The times and seasons changed be, And changed in the same are we.” Divers of them that were of a pure and sincere judgment as concerning religion, being driven from hence and distroubled, the rest that remained tasted and felt of the inhumanity of them in whose hands the authority of doing things here consisted; although, to say the truth, I have used a gentler term than behooved. For it is not to be accounted inhumanity, but rather immanity and beastly cruelty: the which when they had spent all kinds of torments and punishments upon the quick, when they had cruelly taken from such as constantly persevered, life, from others riches, honors, and all hope of promotion, yet they could not be so satisfied, but that incensed and stirred with a greater fury, it began to outrage even against the dead. Therefore, whereas in every singular place was executed a singular kind of cruelty, insomuch, that there was no kind of cruelness that could be devised, but it was put in ure in one place or other, this was proper or peculiar to Cambridge, to exercise the cruelty upon the dead, which in other places was extended but to the quick. Oxford burnt up the right reverend fathers, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer the noble witnesses of the clear light of the gospel. Moreover at London perished these two lanterns of light, Rogers and Bradford; in whom it is hard to say, whether there were more force of eloquence and utterance in preaching, or more holiness of life and conversation. Many others without number, both here and in other places, were consumed to ashes for bearing record to the truth. For what city is there that hath not flamed, I say not with burning of houses and buildings, but with burning of holy bodies? But Cambridge, after there were no more left alive upon whom they might spew out their bitter poison, played the mad bedlam against the dead! The dead men, whose living no man was able to find fault with, whose doctrine no man was able to reprove, were by false and slanderous accusers indicted; contrary to the laws of God and man sued in the law; condemned; their sepulchers violated and broken up; their carcases pulled out and burnt with fire! A thing surely incredible, if we had not seen it with our eyes, and a thing that hath not lightly been heard of. But the heinousness of this wicked act was spread abroad as a common talk in every man’s mouth, and was blown and dispersed through all Christendom.

    Bucer, by the excellency of his wit and doctrine known to all men, of our countrymen in manner craved, of many others entreated and sent for, to the intent he might instruct our Cambridge-men in the sincere doctrine of the christian religion, being spent with age, and his strength utterly decayed, forsook his own country; refused not the tediousness of that long journey; was not afraid to adventure himself upon the sea, but had more regard of the dilating and amplifying of the church of Christ, than of all other things. So in conclusion he came: every man received and welcomed him.

    Afterward he lived in such wise, as it might appear he came not hither for his own sake, but for ours: for he sought not to drive away the sickness that he had taken by troublesome travail of his long journey; and albeit his strength were weakened and appalled, yet he regarded not the recovery of his health, but put himself to immoderate labor and intolerable pain, only to teach and instruct us. And yet toward this so notable and worthy a person, while he lived, were showed all the tokens of humanity and gentleness, reverence and courtesy that could be; and when he was dead, the most horrible cruelty and spite that might be imagined. For what can be so commendable, as to grant unto the living, house and abiding place, and to the dead, burial? or what is he that will find in his heart to give entertainment, and to cherish that person in his house with all kind of gentleness that he can devise, upon whom he could not vouchsafe to bestow burial when he is dead?

    Again, what an inconstancy is it, with great solemnity, and with much advancement and commendation of his virtues, to bury a man honorably; and anon after to break up his tomb, and pull him out spitefully, and wrongfully to slander him being dead, who, during his lifetime, always deserved praise! All these things have happened unto Bucer, who, whilst he lived, had free access into the most gorgeous buildings and stately palaces of the greatest princes, and when he was dead, could not be suffered to enjoy so much as his poor grave: who being laid in the ground nobly, to his eternal fame, was afterward, to his utter defacing, spitefully taken up and burned. The which things albeit they did no harm to the dead (for the dead carcases feel not pain, neither doth the fame of godly persons depend upon the report of vulgar people, and the light rumors of men, but upon the rightful censure and just judgment of God), yet it reproveth an extreme cruelness and unsatiable desire of revengement in them which offer such utter wrong to the dead.

    These persons, therefore, whom they have pulled out of their graves and burned, I believe (if they had been alive) they would have cast out of house and home; they would have driven out of all men’s company, and in the end with most cruel torments have torn them in pieces, being nevertheless aliens, being strangers, and being also fetched hither by us out of such a country, where they not only needed not to fear any punishment, but contrariwise were always had in much reputation, as well among the noble and honorable, as also among the vulgar and common people.

    But yet how much more gentle than these men was bishop Gardiner, otherwise an earnest defender of the popish doctrine! who, against his own countrymen, let pass no cruelty whereby he might extinguish with fire and sword the light of the gospel; and yet he spared foreigners, because the right of them is so holy, that there was never nation so barbarous, that would violate the same. For when he had in his power the renowned clerk, Peter Martyr, then teaching at Oxford, he would not keep him to punish him, but (as I have heard reported) when he should go his way, he gave him wherewith to bear his charges. So that the thing which he thought he might of right do to his countrymen, he judged unlawful to do to strangers. And whom the law of God could not withhold from the wicked murdering of his own countrymen, him did the law of man bridle from killing of strangers, the which hath ever appeased all barbarous beastliness, and mitigated all cruelty. For it is a point of humanity for man and man to meet together, and one to come to another, though they be never so far separated and set asunder, both by sea and by land, without the which access there can be no intercourse of merchandise, there can be no conference of wits, which first of all engendered learning, nor any commodity of society long to continue. To repulse them that come to us, and to prohibit them our countries, is a point of inhumanity. Now to entreat them evil that by our sufferance dwell among us, and have increase of household and household-stuff, it is a point of wickedness. Wherefore this cruelty hath far surmounted the cruelty of all others, the which, to satisfy the unsatiable greediness thereof, drew to execution not only strangers, brought hither at our entreatants and sending for, but even the withered and rotten carcases digged out of their graves; to the intent that the immeasurable thirst which could not be quenched with shedding the blood of them that were alive, might at the least be satisfied in burning of dead men’s bones. These, my brethren, these, I say, are the just causes which have so sore provoked the wrath of God against us, because that in doing extreme injury to the dead, we have been prone and ready; but in putting the same away, we have been slow and slack. For verily I believe, if I may have liberty to say freely what I think (ye shall bear with me, if I chance to cast forth any thing unadvisedly in the heat and hasty discourse of my oration), that even this place, in the which we have so oftentimes assembled, being defiled with that new kind of wickedness, such as man never heard of before, is a let and hindrance unto us when we call for the help of God, by means whereof our prayers are not accepted, which we make to appease the Godhead, and to win him to be favorable unto us again.

    The blood of Abel shed by Cain, calleth and crieth from the earth that sucked it up: likewise the undeserved burning of these bodies, calleth upon Almighty God to punish us; and crieth, that not only the authors of so great a wickedness, but also the ministers thereof, are impure, the places defiled in which these things were perpetrated, the air infected which we take into our bodies, to the intent that by sundry diseases and sicknesses we may receive punishment for so execrable wickedness. Look well about ye, my dear brethren, and consider with yourselves the evils that are past; .and ye shall see how they took their beginning at Bucer’s death, following one in another’s neck even unto this day. First and foremost, when we were even in the chiefest of our mourning, and scarcely yet comforted of our sorrow for his death, the sweating sickness lighted upon us, the which passed swiftly through all England and as it were in haste despatched an innumerable company of men. Secondly, the untimely death of our most noble king Edward the sixth (whose life in virtue surmounted the opinion of all men, and seemed worthy of immortality) happened contrary to men’s expectation in that age in which, unless violence be used, few do die. The conversion of religion, or rather the eversion and turning thereof into papacy: the incursion and domination of strangers, under whose yoke our necks were almost subdued: the importunate cruelty of the bishops against the Christians, which executed that wickedness, for making satisfaction whereof we are gathered together this day: these are the things that ensued after his death. But after his burning ensued yet grievouser things, namely, new kinds of plagues, and contagious diseases unknown to the very physicians, whereby either every man’s health was appaired, a154 or else they were brought to their graves, or else very hardly recovered. Bloody battles without victory, whereof the profit redounded to the enemy, and to us the slaughter with great loss.

    The which things do evidently declare, that God is turned from us, and angry with us, and that he giveth no ear to our prayers, and that he is not moved with our cries and sighs, but that he looketh that this our meeting and assembly should be to this end, that forasmuch as we have violated their corpses, we should do them right again; so that the memorial of these most holy men may be commended unto posterity unhurt and undefamed.

    Wherefore amend yet at length, my brethren, which hitherto, by reason of the variableness and inconstancy of the times, have been wavering and unsteadfast in your hearts; show yourselves cheerful and forward in making satisfaction for the injury you have done to the dead, whom with so great wickedness of late ye endamaged and defiled; not censing them with the perfumes of those odors and spices now worn out of use, and put to flight; but with a true and unfeigned repentance of the heart, and with prayer, to the intent that the heavenly Godhead, provoked by our doings to be our enemy, may by our humble submission be entreated to be favorable and agreeable to all our other requests.

    When Acworth had made an end of his oration, master James Pilkington, the queen’s reader of the divinity lecture, going up into the pulpit, made a sermon upon Psalm 112, the beginning whereof is, “Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord.” Where, intending to prove that the remembrance of the just man shall not perish, and that Bucer is blessed, and that the ungodly shall fret at the sight thereof, but yet that all their attempts shall be to no purpose, to the intent this saying may be verified, “I will curse your blessings, and bless your cursings,” he took his beginning of his own person:

    THE EFFECT OF DR. JAMES PILKINGTON’S SERMON.

    That albeit he were both ready and willing to take that matter in hand, partly for the worthiness of the matter itself, and especially for certain singular virtues of those persons for whom that congregation was called, yet notwithstanding, he said, he was nothing meet to take that charge upon him. For it were more reason that he, which before had done Bucer wrong, should now make him amends for the displeasure. As for his own part, he was so far from working any evil against Bucer, either in word or deed; that for their singular knowledge almost in all kind of learning, he embraced both him and Phagius with all his heart. But yet he somewhat more favored Bucer, as with whom he had more familiarity and acquaintance. In consideration whereof, although that it was scarce convenient that he at that time should speak, yet notwithstanding he was contented, for friendship and courtesy’ sake, not to fail them in their business.

    Having made this preface, he entered into the pith of the matter, wherein he blamed greatly the barbarous cruelty of the court of Rome, so fiercely extended against the dead. He said it was a more heinous matter than was to be borne with, to have showed such extreme cruelness to them that were alive; but for any man to misbehave himself in such wise toward the dead, was such a thing as had not lightly been heard of: saving that he affirmed this custom of excommunicating and cursing of dead folk to have come first from Rome. For Evagrius reporteth a155 in his writings, that Eutychius was of the same opinion, induced by the example of Josias, who slew the priests of Baal, and burnt up the bones of them that were dead, even upon the altars: whereas, before the time of Eutychius this kind of punishment was well near unknown, neither afterward usurped of any man (that ever he heard of) until a nine hundred years after Christ. In the latter times (the which how much the further they were from the golden age of the apostles, so much the more they were corrupted), this kind of cruelness began to creep further: for it is manifestly known, that Stephen the sixth, pope of Rome, digged up Formosus, his last predecessor in that see, and, spoiling him of his pope’s apparel, buried him again in a layman’s apparel (as they call it), having first cut off and thrown into the Tiber his two fingers, with which, according to their accustomed manner, he was wont to bless and consecrate. The which his unspeakable tyranny used against Formosus, within six years after, Sergius the third increased also against the same Formosus. For taking up his dead body, and setting it in a pope’s chair, he caused his head to be smitten off, and his other three fingers to be cut from his hand, and his body to be cast into the river of Tiber, abrogating and disannulling all his decrees; which thing was never done by any man before that day. The cause why so great cruelty was exercised (by the report of Nauclerus f277 ) was this: because that Formosus had been an adversary to Stephen and Sergius when they sued to be made bishops.

    This kind of cruelty (unheard of before) the popes awhile exercised one against another. But now, ere ever they had sufficiently felt the smart thereof themselves, they had turned the same upon our necks. Wherefore it was to be wished, that seeing it began among them, it might have remained still with the authors thereof, and not have been spread over thence unto us. But such is the nature of all evil, that it quickly passeth into example, for others to do the like.

    For about the year of the Lord 1400, John Wickliff was in like manner digged up, and burnt into ashes, and thrown into a brook that runneth by the town where he was buried. Of the which selfsame sauce tasted also William Tracy of Gloucester, a man of a worshipful house, because he had written in his last will, that he should be saved only by faith in Jesus Christ; and that there needed not the help of any man thereto, whether he were in heaven or in earth; and therefore bequeathed no legacy to that purpose as all other men were accustomed to do, This deed was done since we may remember, about the twenty-second year of the reign of king Henry the eighth, in the year of our Lord 1530. f278 Now seeing they extended such cruelty to the dead (he said), it was an easy matter to conjecture what they would do to the living; whereof we have had sufficient trial by the examples of our own men, these few years past: and if we would take the pains to peruse things done somewhat longer ago, we might find notable matters out of our own chronicles. Howbeit, it was sufficient for the manifest demonstration of that matter, to declare the beastly butchery of the French king, executed upon the Waldenses at Cabriers, and the places near thereabout, by his captain Mineflus, about the year of our Lord 1545, than the which there was never thing read of more cruelty done, no not even of the barbarous pagans. And yet for all that, when divers had showed their uttermost cruelty both against these and many others, they were so far from their purpose, in extinguishing the light of the gospel, which they endeavored to suppress, that it increased daily more and more. The which thing Charles the fifth (than whom all Christendom had not a more prudent prince, nor the church of Christ almost a sorer enemy) easily perceived; and therefore, when he had in his hand Luther dead, and Melancthon and Pomerane with certain other preachers of the gospel alive, he not only determined not any thing extremely against them, nor violated their graves, but also entreating them gently, sent them away, not so much as once forbidding them to publish openly the doctrine that they professed. For it is the nature of Christ’s church, that the more that tyrants spurn against it, the more it increaseth and flourisheth.

    A notable proof assuredly of the providence and pleasure of God in sowing the gospel, was that coming of the Bohemians unto us, to the intent to hear Wickliff, of whom we spake before, who at that time read openly at Oxford; and also the going of our men to the said Bohemians, when persecution was raised against us. But much more notable was it, that we have seen come to pass in these our days; that the Spaniards, a156 sent for into this realm of purpose to suppress the gospel, as soon as they were returned home replenished many parts of their country with the same truths of religion, to the which before they were utter enemies. By the which examples it might evidently be perceived, that the princes of this world labor in vain to overthrow it, considering how the mercy of God hath sown it abroad, not only in those countries that we spake of, but also in France, Poland, Scotland, and almost all the rest of Europe. For it is said that some parts of Italy, although it be under the pope’s nose, yet do they of late incline to the knowledge of the heavenly truth. Wherefore sufficient argument and proof might be taken by the success and increasement thereof, to make us believe that this doctrine is sent us from heaven, unless we will willfully be blinded.

    And if there were any that desired to be persuaded more at large in the matter, he might advisedly consider the voyage that the emperor and the pope, with both their powers together, made jointly against the Bohemians; in the which the emperor took such an unworthy repulse of so small a handful of his enemies, that he never almost in all his life took the like dishonor in any place.

    Hereof also might be an especial example of the death of Henry, king of France, who, the same day that he had purposed to persecute the church of Christ, and to have burned certain of his guard whom he had imprisoned for religion, at whose execution he had promised to have been himself in proper person, in the midst of his triumph at a tourney, was wounded so sore in the head with a spear by one of his own subjects, that ere it was long after he died. In the which behalf, the dreadful judgments of God were no less approved in our own countrymen; for one that was a notable slaughter-man of Christ’s saints, rotted alive, and ere ever he died, such a rank savor steamed from all his body, that none of his friends were able to come at him, but they were ready to vomit. f280 Another, being in utter despair well nigh of all health, howled out miserably. The third ran out of his wits; and divers other that were enemies to the church perished miserably in the end. All the which things were most certain tokens of the favor and defense of the divine Majesty towards his church, and of his wrath and vengeance towards the tyrants.

    And forasmuch as he had made mention of the Bohemians, he said it was a most apt example that was reported of their captain, Zisca; who, when he should die, willed his body to be flayed, and of his skin to make a parchment to cover the head of a drum. For it should come to pass, that when his enemies heard the sound of it, they should not be able to stand against them. The like counsel (he said) he himself now gave them as concerning Bucer; that like as the Bohemians did with the skin of Zisca, the same should they do with the arguments and doctrine of Bucer. For as soon as the papists should hear the noise of him, their gewgaws would forthwith decay. For saving that they used violence to such as withstood them, their doctrine contained nothing that might seem to any man (having but mean understanding in holy Scripture) to be grounded upon any reason.

    As for those things that were done by them against such as could not play the madmen as well as they, some of them savored of open force, and some of ridiculous foolishness. For what was this, first of all? Was it not frivolous, ‘that by the space of three years together, mass should be sung in those places where Bucer and Phagius rested in the Lord, without any offense at all? and as soon as they took it to be an offense, straightway to be an offense, if any were heard there? or that it should not be as good then as it was before? as if that then upon the sudden it had been a heinous matter to celebrate it in that place, and that the fault that was past should be counted the grievouser, because it was done of longer time before. Moreover, this was a matter of none effect, that Bucer and Phagius only should be digged up, as who should say, that they only had embraced the religion which they call heresy. It was well known how one of the burgesses of the town had been minded toward the popish religion; who, when he should die, willed neither ringing of bells, diriges, nor any other such kind of trifles to be done for him in his anniversary, as they term it, but rather that they should go with instruments of music before the mayor and council of the city, to celebrate his memorial, and also that yearly a sermon should be made to the people, bequeathing a piece of money to the preacher for his labor. Neither might he omit in that place to speak of Ward the painter, who albeit he were a man of no reputation, yet was he not to be despised for the religion’s sake which he diligently followed. Neither were divers other more to be passed over with silence, who were known of a certainty to have continued in the same sect, and to rest in other church-yards in Cambridge, and rather through the whole realm, and yet defiled not their masses at all. All the which persons (forasmuch as they were all of one opinion) ought all to have been taken up, or else all to have been let lie with the same religion: unless a man would grant that it lieth in their power to make what they list lawful and unlawful, at their own pleasure.

    In the condemnation of Bucer and Phagius, to say the truth, they used too much cruelty, and too much violence. For howsoever it went with the doctrine of Bucer, certainly they could find nothing whereof to accuse Phagius, inasmuch as he wrate nothing that came abroad, saving a few things that he had translated out of the Hebrew and Chaldee tongues into Latin. After his coming into the realm he never read, he never disputed, he never preached, he never taught; for he deceased soon after, so that he could in that time give no occasion for his adversaries to take hold on, whereby to accuse him whom they never heard speak. In that they hated Bucer so deadly, for the allowable marriage of the clergy, it was their own malice conceived against him, and a very slander raised by themselves: for he had for his defense in that matter (over and besides other helps) the testimony of pope Pius the second, who in a certain place saith, that upon weighty considerations priests’ wives were taken from them, but for more weighty causes were to be restored again: and also the statute of the emperor (they call it the Interim), by the which it is enacted, that such of the clergy as were married should not be divorced from their wives. f282 Then, turning his style from this matter to the university, he reproved in few words their unfaithfulness towards these men. For if the Lord suffered not the bones of the king of Edom, being a wicked man, to be taken up and burnt without revengement (as saith Amos), let us assure ourselves he will not suffer so notable a wrong done to his godly preachers, unrevenged.

    Afterward, when he came to the condemnation (which we told you in the former action was pronounced by Perne the vice-chancellor, in the name of them all), being somewhat more moved at the matter, he admonished them how much it stood them in hand, to use great circumspectness, what they decreed upon any man by their voices, in admitting or rejecting any man to the promotions and degrees of the university. For that he which should take his authority from them, should be a great prejudice to all the other multitude, which (for the opinion that he had of their doctrine, judgment, allowance, and knowledge) did think nothing but well of them. For it would come to pass, that if they would bestow their promotions upon none but meet persons, and let the unmeet go as they come, both the commonwealth should receive much commodity and profit by them, and besides that, they should highly please God. But, if they persisted to be negligent in doing thereof, they should grievously endamage the commonweal, and worthily work their own shame and reproach. Over and besides that, they should greatly offend the majesty of God, whose commandment, not to bear false witness, they should in so doing break and violate.

    In the mean while that he was speaking these and many other things before his audience, many of the university, to set out and defend Bucer withal, beset the walls of the church and church-porch on both sides with verses; some in Latin, some in Greek, and some in English, in the which they made a manifest declaration how they were minded both toward Bucer and Phagius. Finally, when his sermon was ended, they made common supplication and prayers. After thanks rendered to God for many other things, but in especial for restoring of the true and sincere religion, every man departed his way.

    Forasmuch as mention hath been made of the death of the worthy and famous cleric, Martin Bucer, and of the burning of his bones after his death, it shall not be unfruitful, as the place here serveth, to induce the testimony or epitaph of Dr. Redman, which came not yet in print, upon the decease of that man.

    THE EPITAPH OR FUNERAL VERSE OF DR. REDMAN, UPON THE DEATH OF MARTIN BUCER. Et tu livor edax procul hinc abscede, maligna Facessito invidentia, Et procul hinc Nemesis, procul hinc et Momus abesto, Labes luesque mentium, Daemonibus similes homines quae redditis, almam Foedatis atque imaginem Quam nostro impressit generi pater ille supremus, Similes sui dam nos creat.

    Contemptrix odii et mendacis nescia fuci Adesto, sancta Veritas.

    Dicito quis qualisque, elatum funere nuper Quem vidimus tam flebili? Est inquam misera hac defunctus luce Bucerus, Lux literati et dux chori, Doctrinae radios qui totum, solis ad instar, Misit per orbem splendidos.

    Hunc dirae nuper sublatum vulnere morris Lugubre flet Gymnasium; Et pullata gemit maerens schola Cantabrigensis, Orbata claro sidere:

    Ergo, quasi obstructo doctrinae fonte, querelas Precesque nunc fundit suas:

    Agnoscit nunquam se talem habuisse magistrum Ex quo sit olim condita.

    Non unquam cathedra gravisa est praeside tanto, Tam nobili et claro duce.

    Cujus et ingenii et doctrinae munera summum Virtutis omarat decus, Integritas morum, gravitas, prudentia, sermo Semper Dei laudem sonans Et sale conditus, qualem vult esse piorum Apostoli sententia.

    Accessit zelus fervens et praesule dignus, Peccata semper arguens.

    Nunquam, desidiae aut languori deditus, ullum Indulsit otium sibi.

    Credibile est nimio faturn accelerasse labore, Prodesse cunctis dum studet.

    Sed frustra laudes angusto carmine nitor Tam copiosas claudere.

    Ergo, Bucere, scholae et suggestus gloria sacri, Valeto etiam vel mortuus.

    AEternum in superis foelix jam vivito regnis, Exutus etsi corporis Terrenis spoliis hujus miseri atque caduci, Quod est sepulchro conditum:

    Christus depositum reddet cum foenore magno, Judex brevi quum venerit.

    THE DESPITEFUL HANDLING AND MADNESS OF THE PAPISTS TOWARD PETER MARTYR’S WIFE AT OXFORD TAKEN UP FROM HER GRAVE AT THE COMMANDMENT OF CARDINAL POLE, AND AFTER BURIED IN A DUNGHILL.

    And because the one university should not mock the other, like cruelty was also declared upon the dead body of Peter Martyr’s wife at Oxford, an honest, grave, and sober matron, while she lived, and of poor people always a great helper, as many that be dwelling there can right well testify. In the year of our Lord 1552 she departed this life, with great sorrow of all those needy persons, whose necessities many times and often she had liberally eased and relieved. Now when Brooks, bishop of Gloucester, Nicholas Ormanet, datary, Robert Morewen, president of Corpus Christi College, Cole and Wright, doctors of the civil law, came thither as the cardinal’s visitors, they, among other things, had in commission to take up this good woman again out of her grave, and to consume her carcase with fire, not doubting but that she was of the same religion that her husband had professed before, when he read the king’s lecture there. And to make a show that they would do nothing disorderly, they called all those before them, that had any acquaintance with her or her husband. They ministered an oath unto them, that they should not conceal whatsoever was demanded. In fine, their answer was, that they knew not what religion she was of, by reason they understood not her language.

    To be short, after these visitors had sped the business they came for, they gat them to the cardinal again, certifying him that, upon due inquisition made, they could learn nothing upon which by the law they might burn her. Notwithstanding the cardinal did not leave the matter so, but wrate down his letters a good while after to Marshal, then dean of Frideswide’s, that he should dig her up, and lay her out of christian burial, because she was inferred nigh unto St. Frideswide’s relics, sometime had in great reverence in that college. Dr. Marshal, like a pretty man, calling his spades and mattocks together in the evening, when he was well whittled, a157 caused her to be taken up and buried in a dunghill.

    Howbeit, when it pleased God under good queen Elizabeth to give quietness to his church, long time persecuted with prison and death, then Dr. Parker, archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Grindall, bishop of London, Richard Goodrick, with divers others her majesty’s high commissioners in matters of religion (nothing ignorant how far the adversaries of the truth had transgressed the bounds of all humanity, in violating the sepulcher or grave of that good and virtuous woman), willed certain of that college in which this uncourteous touch was attempted or done, to take her out of that unclean and dishonest place where she lay, and solemnly, in the face of the whole town, to bury her again in a more decent and honest monument. For though the body being once dead, no great estimation were to be had, how or where the bones were laid; yet was some reverence to be used toward her for sex and womanhood sake.

    Besides, to say the truth, it was great shame, that he which had traveled so far, at king Edward’s request, from the place wherein he dwelt quietly, and had taken so earnest pains (being an old man) in reading and setting forth the truth all he could, with learning to teach and instruct, and so well deserved of that university, should, with so ungentle a recompense a158 of ingratitude, be rewarded again, as to have his wife, that was a godly woman, a stranger, good to many, especially to the poor, and hurtful to none, either in word or deed, without just deserving, and beside their own law, not proceeding against her according to the order thereof, spitefully to be laid in a stinking dunghill.

    To all good natures the fact seemed odious, and of such as be indued with humanity, utterly to be abhorred. Wherefore master; James Calfield, a159 then sub-dean of the college, diligently provided, that from Marshal’s dunghill she was restored and translated to her proper place again, yea, and withal coupled her with Frideswide’s bones, that in case any cardinal will be so mad hereafter to remove this woman bones again, it shall be hard for them to discern the bones of her, from the other. And to the intent the same might be notified to the minds of men the better, the next day after, which was Sunday, master Rogerson preached unto the people, in which sermon by the way he declared the rough dealing of the adversaries, which were not contented to practice their cruelty against the living, but that they must also rage against one that was dead, and had lain two years in her grave. God grant them once to see their own wickedness. Amen.

    And thus much touching the noble acts and strangeness of this worthy cardinal in both the universities; whereunto it shall not be impertinent, here also consequently to adjoin and set forth to the eyes of the world; the blind and bloody articles set out by cardinal Pole, to be inquired upon, within his diocese of Canterbury; whereby it may the better appear what yokes and snares of fond and fruitless traditions were laid upon the poor flock of Christ, to entangle and oppress them with loss of life and liberty; by the which, wise men have to see what godly fruits proceeded from that catholic church and see of Rome. In which, albeit thou seest, good reader, some good articles interspersed withal, let that nothing move thee; for else how could such poison be ministered, but it must have some honey to relish the reader’s taste.

    Here follow the articles set forth by cardinal Pole, to be inquired in his ordinary visitation, within his diocese of Canterbury.

    CARDINAL POLE’S ARTICLES TOUCHING THE CLERGY.

    First, Whether the divine service in the church at times, days, hours, be observed and kept duly, or no. 2. Item, Whether the parsons, vicars, and curates do comely and decently in their manners and doings behave themselves, or no. 3. Item, Whether they do reverently and duly minister the sacraments and sacramentals, or no. 4. Item, Whether any of their parishioners do die without ministration of the sacraments, through the negligence of their curates, or no. 5. Item, Whether the said parsons, vicars, or curates, do haunt taverns or alehouses, increasing thereby infamy and slander, or no. 6. Item, Whether they be diligent in teaching the midwives how to christen children in time of necessity, according to the canons of the church, or no. 7. Item, Whether they see that the font be comely kept, and have holy water always ready for children to be christened. 8. Item, If they do keep a book of all the names of them that be reconciled to the duty of the church. 9. Item, Whether there be any priests, that late unlawfully had women under pretensed marriage, and hitherto are not reconciled; and to declare their names and dwelling-places. 10. Item, Whether they do diligently teach their parishioners the articles of the faith, and the ten commandments. 11. Item, Whether they do decently observe those things that do concern the service of the church, and all those things that tend to a good and christian life, according to the canons of the church. 12. Item, Whether they do devoutly in their prayers pray for the prosperous estate of the king and queen’s majesties. 13. Item, Whether the said parsons and vicars do sufficiently repair their chancels, rectories, and vicarages, and do keep and maintain them sufficiently repaired and amended. 14. Item, Whether any of them do preach or teach any erroneous doctrine, contrary to the catholic faith and unity of the church. 15. Item, Whether any of them do say the divine service, or do minister the sacraments in the English tongue, contrary to the usual order of the church. 16. Item, Whether any of them do suspiciously keep any woman in their houses, or do keep company with men suspected of heresies, or of evil opinion. 17. Item, Whether any of them that were under pretense of lawful matrimony married, and now reconciled, do privily resort to their pretensed wives, or that the said women do privily resort unto them. 18. Item, Whether they do go decently appareled, as it becometh sad, sober, and discreet ministers; and whether they have their crowns and beards shaven. 19. Item, Whether any of them do use any unlawful games, as dice, cards, and other like, whereby they grow to slander and evil report. 20. Item, Whether they do keep residence and hospitality upon their benefices, and do make charitable contributions, according to all the laws ecclesiastical. 21. Item, Whether they do keep the book of registers of christenings, buryings, and marriages, with the names of the godfathers and godmothers.

    HIS ARTICLES TOUCHING THE LAY-PEOPLE.

    First , Whether any manner of person, of what estate, degree, or condition soever he be, do hold, maintain, or affirm any heresies, errors, or erroneous opinions, contrary to the laws ecclesiastical, and the unity of the catholic church. 2. Item, Whether any person do hold, affirm, or say that in the blessed sacrament of the altar there is not contained the real and substantial presence of Christ; or that by any manner of means do contemn and despise the said blessed sacrament, or do refuse to do reverence or worship thereunto. 3. Item, Whether they do contemn or despise by any manner of means any other of the sacraments, rites, or ceremonies of the church, or do refuse or deny auricular confession. 4. Item, Whether any do absent or refrain, without urgent and lawful impediment, to come to the church, and reverently to hear the divine service upon Sundays and holy days. 5. Item, Whether, being in the church, they do not apply themselves to hear the divine service, and to be contemplative in holy prayer; and not to walk, jangle, or talk, in the time of the divine service. 6. Item, Whether any be fornicators, adulterers, or do commit incest, or be bawds, and receivers of evil persons, or be vehemently suspected of any of them. 7. Item, Whether any do blaspheme and take the name of God in vain, or be common swearers. 8. Item, Whether any be perjured, or have committed simony or usury, or do still remain in the same. 9. Item, Whether the churches and church-yards be well and honestly repaired and enclosed. 10. Item, Whether the churches be sufficiently garnished and adorned with all ornaments and books necessary, and whether they have a rood a160 in their church of a decent stature, with Mary and John, and an image of the patron of the same church. 11. Item, Whether any do withhold, or do draw from the church, any manner of money or goods, or that do withhold their due and accustomed tithes from their parsons and vicars. 12. Item, Whether any be common drunkards, ribalds, or men of evil living, or do exercise any lewd pastimes, especially in the time of divine service. 13. Item, If there be any that do, practice, or exercise, any arts of magic or necromancy, or do use or practice any incantations, sorceries, or witchcraft, or be vehemently suspected thereof. 14. Item, Whether any be married within the degrees of affinity or consanguinity prohibited by the laws of holy church, or that do marry, the bans not asked, or do make any privy contracts. 15. Item, Whether in the time of Easter last, any were not confessed, or did not receive the blessed sacrament of the altar, or did irreverently behave themselves in the receiving thereof. 16. Item, Whether any do keep any secret conventicles, preachings, lectures, or readings, in matter of religion, contrary to the laws. 17. Item, Whether any do now not duly keep the fasting and embering days. 18. Item, Whether the altars in the churches be consecrated, or no. 19. Item, Whether the sacrament be carried devoutly to them that fall sick, with light, and with a little sacring bell. 20. Item, Whether the common schools he well kept; and that the schoolmasters be diligent in teaching, and be also catholic, and men of good and upright judgment, and that they be examined and approved by the ordinary. 21. Item, Whether any do take upon them to administer the goods of those that be dead, without authority from the ordinary. 22. Item, Whether the poor people in every parish be charitably provided for. 23. Item, Whether there do burn a lamp or a candle before the sacrament. And if there do not, that then it be provided for with expedition. 24. Item, Whether infants and children be brought to be confirmed in convenient time. 25. Item, Whether any do keep, or have in their custody, any erroneous or unlawful books. 26. Item, Whether any do withhold any money or goods bequeathed to the amending of the highways, or any other charitable deed. 27. Item, Whether any have put away their wives, or any wives do withdraw themselves from their husbands, being not lawfully divorced. 28. Item, Whether any do violate or break the Sundays and holy-days, doing their daily labors and exercises upon the same. 29. Item, Whether the [keepers of] taverns or alehouses, upon the Sundays and holy-days, in the time of mass, matins, and evensong, do keep open their doors, and do receive people into their houses to drink and eat, and thereby neglect their duties in coming to the church. 30. Item, Whether any have or do deprave or contemn the authority or jurisdiction of the pope’s holiness, or the see of Rome. 31. Item, Whether any minstrels, or any other persons do use to sing any songs against the holy sacraments, or any other rites and ceremonies of the church. 32. Item, Whether there be any hospitals within your parishes, and whether the foundations of them be duly and truly observed and kept; and whether the charitable contributions of the same be done accordingly. 33. Item, Whether any goods, plate, jewels, or possessions be taken away, or withholden, from the said hospitals, and by whom.

    HISTORY OF TEN MARTYRS CONDEMNED AND BURNED WITHIN THE DIOCESE OF CANTERBURY.

    FOR THE TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST, AND TRUTH OF HIS GOSPEL.

    Mention was made a little before of the persecution in Kent; wherefore we declared, that fifteen were in the castle of Canterbury imprisoned and condemned for God’s word. Of the which fifteen, moreover, we showed and declared five to be famished unto death within the said castle, and buried by the highway, about the beginning of November. The other ten, in the first month of the next year following, which was the year of our Lord 1557, were committed unto the fire, and there consumed to ashes, by Thornton, called bishop or suffragan of Dover, otherwise called Dick of Dover, and by Nicholas Harpsfield the archdeacon of the said province.

    The names of these ten godly and christian martyrs be these: John Philpot of Tenterden, William Waterer of Biddenden, Stephen Kempe of Norgate, William Hay of Hythe, Thomas Hudson of Selling, Matthew Bradbridge of Tenterden, Thomas Stephens of Biddenden, Nicholas Final of Tenterden, William Lowick of Cranbrooke, William Prowting of Thornham.

    Of these ten godly martyrs of Christ, six were burned at Canterbury, about the 15th of January, that is, Kempe, Waterer, Prowting, Lowick, Hudson, and Hay. Other two, that is, Stephens and Philpot, at Wye, about the same month. Other two, which were Final and Bradbridge, were burned both together at Ashford, the 16th of the same.

    What the ordinary articles were, commonly objected to them of Canterbury diocese, is before rehearsed, save only that to some of these, as to them that follow after, as the time of their persecution did grow, so their articles withal did increase to the number of two and twenty, containing such like matter as served to the maintenance of the Romish see.

    To these articles what their answers were likewise, needeth here no great rehearsal, seeing they all agreed together, though not in the same form of words, yet in much like effect of purposes: first granting the church of Christ, and denying the church of Rome; denying the seven sacraments; refusing the mass, and the hearing of Latin service, praying to saints, justification of works, etc. And though they did all answer uniformly in some smaller things, as their learning served them, yet in the most principal and chiefest matters they did not greatly discord, etc.

    The next month following, which was February, came out another bloody commission from the king and queen, to kindle up the fire of persecution, as though it were not hot enough already; the contents of which commission I thought here not to prefermit, not for lack of matter, whereof I have too much, but that the reader may understand how kings and princes of this world, like as in the first persecutions of the primitive church under Valerian, Decius, Maximian, Dioclesian, Licinius, etc.; so now also in these latter perilous days, have set out all their main force and power, with laws, policy, and authority to the uttermost they could devise, against Christ and his blessed gospel. And yet, notwithstanding all these laws, constitutions, injunctions, and terrible proclamations provided against Christ and his gospel, Christ yet still continueth, his gospel flourisheth, and truth prevaileth; kings and emperors in their own purposes overthrown, their devices dissolved, their counsels confounded; as examples both of this and of all times and ages do make manifest. But now let us hear the intent of this commission, in tenor as followeth.

    A BLOODY COMMISSION A161 GIVEN FORTH BY KING PHILIP AND QUEEN MARY, TO PERSECUTE THE POOR MEMBERS OF CHRIST.

    Philip and Mary, by the grace of God king and queen of England, etc., defenders of the faith, etc.: *To the right reverend father in God, Edmund, bishop of London, and* to the right reverend father in God our right trusty and well-beloved councilor Thomas, bishop of Ely; and to our right trusty and well-beloved William Windsor, knight, lord Windsor; Edward North, knight, lord North; and to our trusty and well-beloved councilors, John Bourne, knight, one of our chief secretaries; John Mordaunt, knight; Francis Englefield, knight, master of our wards and liveries; Edward Walgrave, knight, master of our great wardrop; Nicholas Hare, knight, master of the rolls and our high court of chancery; and to our trusty and well-beloved Thomas Pope, knight; Roger Cholmley, knight; Richard Rede, knight; Rowland Hill, knight; William Rastal, sergeant at law; Henry Cole, clerk, dean of Paul’s; William Roper and Rare Cholmley, esquires; William Cook, Thomas Martin, John Story, and John Vaughan, doctors of law, greeting.

    Forasmuch as divers devilish and slanderous persons have not only invented, bruited, and set forth, divers false rumors, tales, and seditious slanders against us, but also have sown divers heresies and heretical opinions, and set forth divers seditious books, within this our realm of England, meaning thereby to *move, procure, and* stir up division, strife, contention, and sedition, not only amongst our loving subjects, but also betwixt us and our said subjects, with divers other outrageous misdemeanors, enormities, contempts, and offences, daily committed and done, to the disquieting of us and our people: We, minding and intending the due punishment of such offenders, and the repressing of such like offences, enormities, and misbehaviors from henceforth, having special trust and confidence in your fidelities, wisdoms, and discretion’s, have authorized, appointed and assigned you to be our commissioners; and by these presents do give full power and authority unto you, and three of you, to inquire as well by the oaths of twelve good and lawful men, as by witnesses and all other means and politic ways you can devise, of all and singular heresies, heretical opinions, lollardies, heretical and seditious books, concealment’s, contempts, conspiracies, and *of* all false rumors, tales, seditious and slanderous words or sayings, raised, published, bruited, invented, or set forth against us, or either of us, or against the quiet governance and rule of our people and subjects, by hooks, lies, tales, or otherwise, in any county, key, bowing, or other place or places, within this our realm of England or elsewhere, in any place or places beyond the seas, and of the *bringers* in, utterers, buyers, sellers, readers, keepers, or conveyers of any such letter, book, rumor and tale, and of all and every their coadjutors, counselors, comforters, procurers, abettors, and maintainers, giving unto you and three of you full power and authority, by virtue hereof, to search out and take into your hands and possessions all manner of heretical and seditious books, letters, and writings, wheresoever they or any of them shall be found, as well in printers’ houses and shops, as elsewhere, willing you and every of you to search for the same in all places, according to your discretion’s: and also to inquire, hear and determine all and singular enormities, disturbances, misbehaviors, and negligences *done suffered and* committed in any church, chapel, or other hallowed place, within this realm; and also for and concerning the takingaway or withholding ally lands, tenements, goods ornaments, stocks of money or other things, belonging to every of the same churches and chapels, and all accounts and reckonings concerning the same. And also to inquire and search out all such persons as obstinately do refuse to receive the blessed sacrament of the altar, to hear mass, or to come to their parish churches , a162 or other convenient places appointed for divine service; and all such as refuse to go on procession, to take holy bread, or holy water, or otherwise do misuse themselves in any church or other hallowed place, wheresoever any of the same offences have been, or hereafter shall be, committed within this our said realm.

    Nevertheless, our will and pleasure is, that when and as often as any person or persons hereafter to be called or convented before you, do obstinately persist or stand in any manner of heresy, or heretical opinion, that then ye, or three of you, do immediately take order, that the same person or persons, so standing or persisting, be delivered and committed to his ordinary, there to be used according to the spiritual and ecclesiastical laws. And also we give unto you, or three of you, full power and authority, to inquire and search out all vagabonds, and masterless men, barretors , a163 quarrelers, and suspect persons, *vagrant or* abiding within our city of London, and ten miles’ compass of the same, and all assaults and affrays done and committed within the same city and compass. And further to search out all waste, decays, and ruins of churches, chancels, chapels, parsonages and vicarages in *whatsoever* diocese the same be within this realm; giving *to* you and every *three* of you full power and authority by virtue hereof to hear and determine the same, and all other offences and matters above specified and rehearsed, according to your wisdoms, consciences, and discretion’s, willing and commanding you or three of you, from time to time, to use and devise all such politic ways and means for the trial and searching out of the premises, as by you or three of you shall be thought most expedient and necessary: and upon inquiry and due proof had, known, perceived, and tried out, by the confession of the parties, or by sufficient witnesses before you, or three of you, concerning the premises or any part thereof, or by any other ways or means requisite, to give and award such punishment to the offenders, by fine, imprisonment, or otherwise, and to take such order for redress and reformation of the premises, as to your wisdoms, or three of you, shall be thought meet and convenient.

    Further, willing and commanding you and every three of you, in case you shall find any person or persons obstinate or disobedient, either in their appearance before you or three of you, at your calling or assignment, or else in not accomplishing, or not obeying your decrees, orders, and commandments, in any thing or things touching the premises or any part thereof, to commit the same person or persons so offending to ward, there to remain, till by you or three of you he be discharged or delivered: and we give to you, and every three of you, full power and authority by these presents, to take and receive, by your discretion, of every offender or suspect person to be convented and brought before you a recognizance or recognizance’s, obligation or obligations, to our use, of such sum or sums of money as to you, or three of you, shall seem convenient; as well for the personal appearance before you of every such suspect person, or for the performance and accomplishment of your orders and decrees, in case you shall so think convenient; as for the true and sure payment of all and every such fine and fines, as shall hereafter be by you, or three of you, taxed or assessed, upon any offender that shall be before you, or three of you, duly convinced as is aforesaid, to our use, to be paid at such days and times as by you, or three of you, shall be called, limited, and appointed: and you to certify every such recognizance or obligation, so being taken for any fine or fines (not fully and wholly paid before you), under your hands and seals, or the hands or seals of three of you, into our court of chancery; to the intent we may be thereof duly answered, as appertaineth.

    And furthermore we give to you and three of you full power and authority by these presents, not only to call before you all and every offender and offenders, and all and every suspect person and persons, in any of the premises, but also all such and so many witnesses as ye shall think meet to be called, and them and every of them, to examine, and compel to answer and swear upon the holy evangelists to declare the truth of all such things whereof they or any of them shall be examined, for the better trial, opening, and declaration, of the premises, or of any part thereof.

    And further, our will and pleasure is, that you, or three of you, shall name and appoint one sufficient person to gather up and receive all such sums of money as shall be assessed and taxed by you, or any three of you, for any fine or fines upon any person or persons, for their offences; and you, or three of you, by bill or bills assigned with your hands, shall and may assign and appoint (as well to the said person for his pains in receiving the said sums, as also to your clerks, messengers, and attendants upon you, for their travail, pains, and charges to be sustained for us, about the premises or any part thereof, such sum and sums of money for their rewards, as by you, or three of you, shall be thought expedient: willing and commanding you or three of you, after the tyme of this our commission expired, to certify unto our escheker as well the name of the said receiver, as also a note of such fines as shall be set and taxed before you, to the entent that upon the determination of the accompte of the same receiver, we may be answered of that unto us shall justly apperteine: willing and commanding also all our auditors and other officers (upon the sight of the said bills signed with the hands of you or three of you), to make to the said receiver due allowance according to the said bills, upon this accompte. Wherefore we will and command you, our said commissioners, with diligence *to give attendance, and* to execute the premises *with effect*, any of our laws, statutes, proclamations, or other grants, privileges, or ordinances, which be, or may seem to be, contrary to the premises, notwithstanding.

    And moreover, we will and command all and singular justices of peace, mayors, sheriffs, bailiffs, constables, and all other our officers and ministers, and faithful subjects, to be aiding, helping, and assisting you at your commandment, in the due execution hereof; as they may tender our pleasure, and will answer to the contrary at their uttermost perils. And we will and grant, that these our letters patent shall be sufficient warrant and discharge for you, and every of you, against us, our heirs, and successors; and all and every other person and persons, whatsoever they be, of, for, and concerning, the premises or any parcel thereof, or for the execution of this our commission or any part thereof. In witness whereof, we have caused these our letters patent to be made, and to continue and endure for one whole year next coming after the date hereof.

    Witness ourselves at Westminster, the 8th of February, the third and years of our reigns.* THE APPREHENSION OF TWO AND TWENTY PRISIONERS, SENT UP TOGETHER FOR GOD’S WORD, TO LONDON, FROM COLCHESTER.

    After this bloody proclamation or commission thus given out at London, which was February the 8th, in the third and fourth years of the king and queen’s reign, these new inquisitors, especially some of them, began to ruffle, and to take upon them not a little; so that all quarters were full of persecution, and prisons almost full of prisoners, namely, in the diocese of Canterbury, whereof (by the leave of Christ) we will say more anon.

    In the mean time, about the town of Colchester, the wind of persecution began fiercely to rise; insomuch that three-and-twenty together, men and women, were apprehended at one clap; of the which twenty-three, one escaped: the other twenty-two were driven up like a flock of christian lambs to London, with two or three leaders with them at most, ready to give their skins to be plucked off for the gospel’s sake. Notwithstanding the bishops, afraid belike of the number, to put so many at once to death, sought means to deliver them, and so they did, drawing out a very easy submission for them, or rather suffering them to draw it out themselves: notwithstanding divers of them afterward were taken again and suffered, as hereafter ye shall hear (God willing) declared. Such as met them by the way coming up, saw them in the fields, scattering in such sort, as that they might easily have escaped away. And when they entered into the towns their keepers called them again into array, to go two and two together, having a band or line going between them, they holding the same in their hands, having another cord every one about his arm, as though they were tied.

    And so were these fourteen men and eight women carried up to London, the people by the way praying to God for them, to give them strength. At their entering into London, they were pinioned, and so came into the city, as the picture here shortly after following, with their names also subscribed, doth describe. But first let us declare concerning their taking and their attachers, contained in the commissary’s letter written to Bonner; then the indenture made between the commissioners and the popish commissary. The letter of the commissary is this.

    THE LETTER OF THE COMMISSARY, CALLED JOHN KINGSTON, WRITTEN TO BISHOP BONNER.

    After my duty done in receiving and accomplishing your honorable and most loving letters, dated the 7th of August, be it known unto your lordship, that the 28th of August, the lord of Oxenford, lord Darey, Henry Tyrrel, Anthony Brown, William Bendelows, Edmund Tyrrel, Richard Weston, Roger Appleton, published their commission, to seize the lands, tenements, and goods of the fugitives, so that the owners should have neither use nor commodity thereof, but by inventory remain in safe keeping, until the cause were determined. And also there was likewise proclaimed the queen’s grace’s warrant for the restitution of the church goods within Colchester and the hundreds thereabout, to the use of God’s service. And then were called the parishes particularly, and the heretics partly committed to my examination; and that divers persons should certify me of the ornaments of their churches, betwixt this and the justices’ next appearance, which shall be on Michaelmas-even next. And the parishes which had presented at two several times, to have all ornaments with other things in good order, were exonerated for ever, to they were warned again ; a164 and others to make their appearance from time to time. And those names blotted in the indenture, were indicted for treason, fugitives, or disobedients, and were put forth by master Brown’s commandment. And before the sealing, my lord Darey said unto me (apart) and master Bendelows, that I should have sufficient time to send unto your lordship, yea, if need were, the heretics to remain in durance till I had an answer from you, yea to the lord legate’s grace’s commissioners come into the country. And master Brown came unto my lord Darey’s house and parlout belonging unto master Barnaby, before my said lord and all the justices, and laid his hand on my shoulder, with a smiling countenance, and desired me to make his hearty commendations to your good lordship, and asked me if I would; and I said, Yea, with a good will. Wherefore I was glad, and thought that I should not have been charged with so sudden carriage.

    But after dinner, the justices counseled with the bailiffs, and with the jailers; and then after took me unto them, and made collation of the indentures, and sealed them; and then master Brown commanded me this afternoon, being the 30th of August, to go and receive my prisoners by and by. And then I said, “It is an unreasonable commandment, for that I have attended on you here these three days, and this Sunday early I have sent home my men.

    Wherefore I desire you to have a convenient time appointed, wherein I may know whether it will please my lord and master to send his commissioners hither, or that I shall make carriage of them unto his lordship.” Then master Brown: “We are certified, that the council have written to your master, to make speed, and to rid these prisoners out of hand: therefore go receive your prisoners in haste.” Then I: “Sir, I shall receive them within these ten days.”

    Then master Brown: “The limitation lieth in us, and not in you: wherefore get you hence.” “Sir, ye have indicted and delivered me by this indenture, .whose faith or opinions I know not, trusting that ye will grant me a time to examine them, lest I should punish the catholics.” “Well,” said master Brown, “for that cause, ye shall have time betwixt this and Wednesday. And I say unto you, master bailiffs, if he do not receive them at your hands on Wednesday, set open your doors, and let them go.”

    Then I: “My lord and masters all, I promise to discharge the town and country of these heretics, within ten days.” Then my lord Darcy said, “Commissary, we do and must all agree in one: wherefore do ye receive them on or before Wednesday.”

    Then I: “My lord, the last I carried, I was going betwixt the castle and St. Katherine’s chapel, two hours and a half, and in great press and danger: wherefore this may be to desire your lordship, to give in commandment unto my master Sayer, bailiff, here present, to aid me through his liberties, not only with men and weapons, but that the town-clerk may be ready there with his book to write the names of the most busy persons, and this upon three hours’ warning:” all which both my lord and master Brown commanded. f285 And the 31st of August William Goodwin of Much Birch, husbandman, this bringer, and Thomas Alsey of Copford, your lordship’s apparitor of your consistory in Colchester, covenanted with me, that they should hire two other men at the least, whereof one should be a bow-man, to come to me the next day about two of the clock at afternoon, so that I might recite this bargain before master archdeacon, and pay the money, that is, forty-six shillings eightpence. Wherefore they should then go forth with me unto Colchester, and on Wednesday before three of the clock in the morning receive there at my hand within the castle and moat-hall, fourteen men and eight women, ready bound with gyves and hemp; and drive, carry, or lead, and feed with meat and drink, as heretics ought to be found continually, unto such time that the said William and Thomas, shall cause the said two-and-twenty persons to be delivered unto my lord of London’s officers, and within the safe keeping of my said lord; and then to bring unto me again the said gyves, with a perfect token of or from my said lord, and then this covenant is void; or else, etc.

    Master Bendelows said unto me in my lord of Oxenford’s chamber at the King’s Head, after I had said mass before the lords, that on the morrow after Holy-rood day, when we shall meet at Chelmsford for the division of these lands, “I think, master archdeacon, you, and master Smith, shall be fain to ride with certain of the jury to those portions and manors in your part of Essex, and in like case divide yourselves, to tread and view the ground with the quest; or else I think they will not labor the matter.” And so do you say unto master archdeacon.

    Alice the wife of William Walleys of Colchester, hath submitted herself, abjured her erroneous opinions, asked absolution, promised to do her solemn penance in her parish church of St. Peter’s on Sunday next, and to continue a catholic and a faithful woman, as long as God shall send her life. And for these covenants, her husband standeth bound in five pounds. Which Alice is one of the nine women of this your indenture; and she is big with child: wherefore she remaineth at home. And this done in the presence of the bailiffs, aldermen, and town-clerk. And for that master Brown was certified, there was no curate at Lexden, he inquired who was the farmer. The answer was made, “Sir Francis Jobson.” “Who is the parson?” They of the quest-men answered, “Sir Roger Gostlow.” “When was he with you?” “Not these fourteen years.” “How is your cure served?” “Now and then.” “Who is the patron?” “My lord of Arundel.” And within short time after, sir Francis Jobson came with great courtesy unto my lord Darcy’s place: and of all gentlemen about us, I saw no more come in. Sir Robert Smith priest, sometime canon of Bridlington, now curate of Appledore in the wild of Kent , a165 came to Colchester the 28th day of August, with his Wife big with child, of late divorced, taken on suspicion, examined of the lords; and master Brown told me, that they have received letters from the council for the attachment of certain persons, and especially of one priest, whose name is Pullen (but his right name is Smith), doubting this priest to be the said Pullen, although neither he nor his wife would confess the same. Wherefore he lieth still in prison, but surely this is not Pullen.

    If it please your lordship to have in remembrance, that the householders might be compelled to bring every man his own wife to her own seat in the church in time of divine service, it would profit much. And also there he yet standing hospitals, and other of like foundation about Colchester, which I have not known to appear at any visitation; as the misters and lazars of Mary Magdalen in Colchester, the proctor of St. Katherine’s chapel in Colchester, the hospital or beadhouse a166 of the foundation of the lord H. Marney in Layer-Marney, the hospital and beadmen of Little Horkesley. Thus presuming of your lordship’s goodness, I am more than bold ever to trouble you with this worldly business, beseeching Almighty God to send your honorable lordship a condign reward.

    From Easthorp this present 30th day of August.

    We found a letter touching the marriage of priests in the hands of the foresaid sir Robert Smith. Also I desired master Brown, the doer of all things, to require the audience to bring in their unlawful writings and books; who asked me, if I had proclaimed the proclamation. I said, “Yea.” Then he said openly upon the bench, that they should be proclaimed every quarter once. And then take the constables and officers; and they alone take and punish the offenders accordingly.

    By your poor beadman, John Kingston , priest.

    AN INDENTURE MADE BETWEEN THE LORDS AND THE JUSTICES WITHIN SPECIFIED, AND BONNER’S COMMISSARY, CONCERNING THE DELIVERY OF THE PRISONERS ABOVE-NAMED.

    This indenture, made the 29th day of August, in the third and fourth years of the reigns of our sovereign lord and lady, Philip and Mary, by the grace of God king and queen of England, Spain, France, both Sieilies, Jerusalem, and Ireland, defenders of the faith, archdukes of Austria, dukes of Burgundy, Milan, and Brabant, counts of Hamburgh, Flanders, and Tyrol, between the right honorable lord John de Vere, earl of Oxford, lord high chamberlain of England; Thomas lord Darcy of Chichester; a167 Henry Tyrrel, knight; Anthony Brown, the king and queen’s majesties’ sergeant at law; William Bendelows, sergeant at law; Edmund Tyrrel, Richard Weston, Roger Appleton, esquires, justices of oyer and determiner, and of the peace within the said county of Essex, to be kept of the one party; and John Kingston, clerk, bachelor at law, commissary to the bishop of London, of the other party, witnesseth, that Robert Colman, of Walton in the county of Essex, laborer; Joan Winseley, of Horkesley Magna in the said county, spinster; Stephen Glover, of Rayleigh in the county aforesaid, glover; Richard Clerke, of Much Holland in the said county, mariner; William Munt, of Much Bentley in the said county, husbandman; Thomas Winseley, of Much Horkesley in the said county, sawyer; Margaret Field, of Ramsey in the said. county, spinster; Agnes Whitelock, of Dover-court in the said county, spinster; Alice Munt, of Much Bentley in the said county, spinster; Rose Allin, of the same town and county, spinster; Richard Bongeor, of Colchester in the said county, courier; Richard Atkin, of Halsted in the said county, weaver; Robert Barcock, of Wiston in the county of Suffolk, carpenter; Richard George, of West Bergholt in the county of Essex, laborer; Richard Jolley, of Colchester in the said county, mariner; Thomas Feerefanne, of the same town and county, mercer; Robert Debnam, late of Dedham in the said county, weaver; Cicely Warren, of Coggeshall, in the said county, spinster; Christian Pepper, widow, of the same town and county; Allin Simpson; Ellen Ewring; Alice, the wife of William Wallis, of Colchester, spinster; and William Bongeor, of Colchester in the said county, glazier; being indicted of heresy, are delivered to the said John Kingston, clerk, ordinary to the bishop of London, according to the statute in that case provided.

    In witness whereof to the one part of this indenture remaining with the said earl, lord, and other the justices, the said ordinary hath set to his hand and seal, and to the other part remaining with the said ordinary, the said earl, lord, and other the justices, have set to their several hands and seals, the day and years above written. Oxenford. William Bendclews. Thomas Darcy. Edmund Tyrrel.

    Henry Tyrrel. Richard Weston. Anthony Brown. Roger Appleton .

    The twenty-two aforesaid prisoners thus sent from Colchester to London, were brought at length to bishop Bonner. * Behold moe sheep hereby, addrest to Bonner’s stall, Whose thirsty throat, so dry, for more blood still doth call.* As touching the order and manner of their coming and bringing, the said Bonner himself writeth to cardinal Pole, as you shall hear.

    A LETTER OF BISHOP BONNER TO CARDINAL POLE, CONCERNING THE PRISONERS AFORESAID.

    May it please your good grace, with my most humble obedience, reverence, and duty, to understand, that going to London upon Thursday last, and thinking to be troubled with master Germaines’s matter only, and such other common matters as are accustomed, enough to weary a right strong body, I had the day following (to comfort my stomach withal) letters from Colchester, that either that day, or the day following, I should have sent thence twenty-two heretics, indicted before the commissioners; and indeed so I had, and compelled to bear their charges as I did of the others, which both stood me above twenty nobles, a sum of :money that I thought full evil bestowed. And these heretics, notwithstanding they had honest catholic keepers to conduct and bring them up to me, and, in all the way from Colchester to Stratford of the Bow, did go quietly and obediently; yet coming to Stratford they began to take heart of grace, and to do as pleased themselves, for there they began to have their guard, which generally increased till the came to Aldgate, where the were lodged Friday night.

    And albeit I took order that the said heretics should be with me very early on Saturday morning, to the intent they might quietly come and be examined by me, yet it was between ten and eleven of the clock before they would come, and no way would they take but through Cheapside, so that they were brought to my house with about a thousand persons, Which thing I took very strange, and spoke to sir John Gresham then being with me, to tell the mayor and the sheriffs that this thing was not well suffered in the city.

    These naughty heretics all the way they came through Cheapside, both exhorted the people to their part, and had much comfort e promiscua plebe, and being entered into my house, and talked withal, they showed themselves desperate and very obstinate; yet I used all the honest means I could, both of myself and others, to have won them, causing divers learned men to talk with them; and finding nothing in them but pride and willfulness, I thought to have had them all hither to Fulham, and here to give sentence against them. Nevertheless, perceiving by my last doing that your grace was offended, I thought it my duty, before I anything further proceeded herein, to advertise first your grace hereof, and know your good pleasure, which I beseech your grace I may do by this trusty bearer. And thus most humbly I take my leave of your good grace, beseeching Almighty God always to preserve the same. — At Fulham, postridie Nativitatis 1556.

    Your grace’s most bounden beadsman and servant, Edmund London.

    By this letter of bishop Bonner to the cardinal, is to be understood, what good-will was in this bishop to have the blood a168 of these men, and to have past with sentence of condemnation against them, had not the cardinal somewhat (as it seemed) stayed his fervent headiness. Concerning the which cardinal, although it cannot be denied by his acts and writings, but that he was a professed enemy, and no otherwise to be reputed but for a papist; yet again it is to be supposed, that he was none of the bloody and cruel sort of papists, as may appear, not only by staying the rage of this bishop, but also by the solicitous writing, and long letters written to Cranmer, also by the complaints of certain papists accusing him to the pope, to be a bearer with the heretics, and by the pope’s letters sent to him upon the same, calling him up to Rome, and setting friar Pete in his place, had not queen Mary, by special entreaty, kept him out of the pope’s danger. All which letters I have (if need be) to show; and besides, also, that it is thought of him that toward his latter end, a little before his coming from Rome to England, he began somewhat to favor the doctrine of Luther, and was no less suspected at Rome: yea, and furthermore, did there at Rome convert a certain learned Spaniard from papism to Luther’s side; notwithstanding the pomp and glory of the world afterward carried him away to play the papist thus as he did. But of this cardinal enough.

    To return now to this godly company again; first how they were brought up in bands to London, ye have heard: also how Bonner was about to have read the sentence of death upon them, and how he was stayed by the cardinal, ye understand. As touching their confession, which they articled up in writing, it were too tedious to recite the whole at length. Briefly touching the article of the Lord’s supper (for the which they were chiefly troubled), thus they wrote, as here followeth.

    THE CONFESSION OF CERTAIN PRISONERS FROM COLCHESTER, TOUCHING THE SUPPER OF THE LORD.

    Whereas Christ at his last supper took bread, and when he had given thanks, he brake-it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, “Take, eat, this is my body;” and likewise took the cup and thanked, etc., we do understand it to be a figurative speech, as the most manner of his language was in parables and dark sentences, that they which are carnally minded, should see with their eyes, and not perceive; and hear with their ears, and not understand; signifying this, that as he did break the bread among them, being but one loaf, and they all were partakers thereof, so we through his body, in that it was broken, and offered upon the cross for us, are all partakers thereof; and his blood cleanseth us from all our sins, and hath pacified God’s wrath towards us, and made the atonement between God and us, if we walk henceforth in the light, even as he is the true light.

    And in Chat be said further, “Do this in remembrance of me,” it is a memorial and token of the suffering and death of Jesus Christ; and he commanded it for this cause, that the congregation of Christ should come together to show his death, and to thank and laud him for all his benefits, and magnify his holy name; and so to break the bread, and drink the wine, in remembrance that Christ had given his body, and shed his blood for us. Thus you may well perceive, though Christ called the bread his body, and the wine his blood, yet it followeth not that the substance of his body should be in the bread and wine; as divers places in Scripture are spoken by Christ and the apostles in like phrase of speech, as in John 15. “I am the true Vine.” Also in John 10: “I am the Door.” And as it is written in Hebrews 9 and in Exodus 24, how Moses took the blood of the calves, and sprinkled both the book and all the people, saying, “This is the blood of the covenant or testament.” And also in Ezekiel 6, how the Lord said unto him concerning the third part of his hair, saying, “This is Jerusalem,” etc.

    Thus we see the Scriptures how they are spoken in figures, and ought to be spiritually examined, and not as they would have us to say, that the bodily presence of Christ is in the bread, which is a blasphemous understanding of the godly word, and is contrary to all holy Scriptures. Also we do see that great idolatry is sprung out of the carnal understanding of the words of Christ, “This is my body; and yet daily springeth, to the great dishonor of God; so that men worship a piece of bread for God, yea, and hold that to be their maker.

    After this confession of their faith and doctrine being written and exhibited, they also devised a letter withal, in a manner of a short supplication, or rather an admonition to the judges and commissioners, requiring that justice and judgment, after the rule of God’s word, might be ministered unto them; the copy of which their letter I thought here also to show unto the reader in form as followeth.

    A LETTER OR SUPPLICATION OF THE PRISONERS TO THE JUDGES.

    To the right honorable audience, before whom these our simple writings, and the confession of our faith shall come to be read or seen, we poor prisoners, being fast in bands upon the trial of our faith, which we offer to be tried by the Scriptures, pray most heartily, that forasmuch as God hath given you power and strength over us as concerning our bodies, under whom we submit ourselves as obedient subjects in all things due, ye being officers and rulers of the people, may execute true judgment, keep the laws of righteousness, govern the people according to right, and hear the poor and helpless in truth, and defend their cause.

    God, for his Son Jesus Christ’s sake, give you the wisdom and understanding of Solomon, David, Hezekiah, Moses, with divers other most virtuous rulers, by whose wisdom and most godly understanding, the people were justly ruled and governed in the fear of God, all wickedness was by them overthrown and beaten down, and all godliness and virtue did flourish and spring. O God, which art the most highest, the Creator and Maker of all things, and of all men both great and. small, and carest for all alike, which dost try all men’s works and imaginations, before whose judgment-seat shall come both high and low, rich and poor; we most humbly beseech thee to put into our rulers’ hearts the pure love and fear of thy name, that even as they themselves would be judged, and as they shall make answer before thee, so they may hear our causes, judge with mercy, and read over these our requests and confessions of our faith, with deliberation and a godly judgment.

    And if any thing here seemeth to your honorable audience to be erroneous. or disagreeing to the Scripture, if it shall please your lordships to hear us patiently, which do offer ourselves to the Scriptures, thereby to make answer, and to be tried, in so doing we poor subjects, being in much captivity and bondage, are most bound to pray for your noble estate and long preservation.

    The request of these men being so just, and their doctrine so sound, yet all this could not prevail with the bishop and other judges, but that sentence should have proceeded against them incontinent, had not the goodness of the Lord better provided for his servants, than the bishop had intended.

    For as they were now under the edge of the axe, ready to be condemned by sentence, it was thought otherwise by the cardinal, and some other wiser heads; fearing belike, lest by the death of so many together, some disturbance might rise peradventure among the people; and so it was decreed among themselves, that rather they should make some submission or confession,, such as they would themselves, and so be sent home again, as they were indeed; howbeit divers of them afterward were apprehended and put to death. But in the mean space as touching their submission which they made, this it was, as in form here followeth.

    THE SUBMISSION OR CONFESSION OF THESE AFORESAID PRISONERS.

    Because our Savior Christ at his last supper took bread, and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and gave it unto his disciples, and said, “Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you, this do in remembrance of me;” therefore, according to the words of our Savior Jesus Christ, we do believe in the sacrament to be Christ’s body. And likewise he took the cup, gave thanks, and gave it to his disciples. and said, “This is my blood of the New Testament, which is shed for many.”

    Therefore likewise we do believe that it is the blood of Christ, according as Christ’s church doth minister the same; unto the which catholic church of Christ we do in this like as in all other matters submit ourselves, promising therein to live as it becometh good christian men, and here in this realm to use ourselves as it becometh faithful subjects unto our most gracious king and queen, and to all other superiors both spiritual and temporal, according to our bounden duties.

    THE NAMES OF THEM WHICH SUBSCRIBED TO THIS SUBMISSION, WERE THESE: - John Atkin, Alyn Symson, Richard George, Thomas Firefanne, William Munt, Richard Joly, Richard Gratwicke, Thomas Winssey, Richard Rothe, Richard Clark, Stephen Glover, Robert Colman, Thomas Merse, William Bongeor, Robert Betcock, Margaret Hide, Elyn Euring, Christian Pepper, Margaret Feld, Alice Munt, Joan Winsly, Cysly Warren, Rose Alyn, Ann Whitelocke, George Barker, John Saxby, Thomas Locker, Alice Locker.

    THE STORY OF FIVE OTHER GODLY MARTYRS BURNED AT ONE FIRE IN SMITHFIELD WITH THEIR ANSWERS TO THE ARTICLES. *The learned being at this time, in a manner, all despatched in this furious rage of persecution, we now have little or small matter to write, touching the other seely sheep and simple lambs of Christ’s flock, yet remaining behind; upon whom they satisfied still their blood-thirsty and slaughterous affections. I thought it therefore not beside the matter to admonish the reader, to judge of them, and of such others, before specified, as of the dear elect children and. true martyrs of God; by whose simplicity the merciful wisdom and mighty power of God was more manifested and showed, who “hath chosen in them the foolish and weak things of this world to confound the wise and mighty ones, and things that are not, to bring to nought things that are.”

    And as touching those of whom there is no matter mentioned in this history, as occasions of their death (for that none as yet came to my hands), this one sure and only cause is certainly to be adjudged generally to them, that it was for the sincere profession of Christ’s gospel: and as for the rest, of whom out of the registrar’s notes somewhat is and shall be said, though there may sometime appear in their answers and confessions to the bishops and others, before whom they were examined, a certain ignorance and lack of knowledge in some points (which, for the most part, is made worse by the unfaithful dealings of the registrars), nevertheless this is to be weighed and truly considered, that, in the chief and principal ground and foundation of their religion and faith, they swerved not, laying Jesus Christ for their corner-stone, as the most perfect prop and sure foundation of their building: upon whom albeit it seemeth they built sometime, through ignorance, stubble or hay (and, the rather, through the papists’ crafty couching of their interrogatories), yet that being consumed by the fire of God’s Holy Spirit, they themselves, through the same Spirit, abide still both safe and sure. And therefore, in hope of this charitable and true judgment, I will proceed to the prosecuting of our history.* In this story of persecuted martyrs, next in order follow five others burned at; London, in Smithfield, in the aforesaid year of the Lord 1557, April the 12th, whose names were these: — Thomas Loseby, Henry Ramsey, Thomas Thirtel, Margaret Hide, and Agnes Stanley: who being, some by the lord Riche, some by other justices of peace, and constables (their own neighbors) at the first accused, and apprehended for not coming to their parish churches, were in the end sent unto Bonner, bishop of London, and by his commandment the 27th day of January were examined before Dr.

    Darbyshire, then chancellor to the said bishop, upon the former general articles mentioned. Whose answers thereunto were, that as they confessed there was one true and catholic church, whereof they steadfastly believed, and thought the church of Rome to be no part or member; so in the same church they believed there were but two sacraments, that is to say, Baptism, and. the Supper of the Lord. Howbeit some of them attributed the title and honor of a sacrament to the holy estate of matrimony, which undoubtedly was done rather of simple ignorance, than of any willful opinion, and are thereof to be adjudged as before is admonished. Moreover, they acknowledged themselves to be baptized into the/kith of that true church, as in the third article is specified.

    And here in reading as well of these articles, as also of the rest, mark I beseech you the crafty sublety of these catholic companions, who, intermelling certain points a169 of faith, and of the true church, with the idolatrous and superstitious maumetry of their Romish synagogue, cause the poor and simple people, for lack of knowledge, oftentimes to fall into their crafty nets. For after they have made them grant a true church with the sacraments of the same, though not in such number as they would have them, and also that they were christened into the faith thereof, that is, in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, they craftily now in the other their objections, descending as it were from the faith of the Trinity unto their idolatrous mass and other superstitious ceremonies, would make them grant, that now in denying thereof they have severed themselves from the faith of the true church, whereunto they were baptized; which is most false. For though the true light of God’s gospel and holy word was marvelously darkened, and in a manner utterly extinguished; yet the true faith of the Trinity, by the merciful providence of God, was still preserved; and into the faith thereof were we baptized, and not into the belief and profession of their horrible idolatry and vain ceremonies.

    These things, not thoroughly weighed by these poor, yet faithful and true members of Christ, caused some of them ignorantly to grant, that when they came to the years of discretion, and understood the light of the gospel, they did separate themselves from the faith of the church, meaning none other but only to separate themselves from the admitting or allowing of such their popish and erroneous trash as they now had defiled the church of Christ withal, and not from their faith received in baptism, which in express words in their answers to the other articles they constantly affirmed, declaring the mass and sacrament of the altar to be most wicked blasphemy against Christ Jesus, and contrary to the truth of his gospel; and therefore utterly they refused to assent unto and to be reconciled again thereunto.

    These answers in effect of them thus taken by the said chancellor, they were for that time dismissed; but the bishop, taking the matter into his own hands, the 6th day of March, propounded unto them certain other new articles, the copy whereof followeth.

    OTHER ARTICLES OBJECTED BY BONNER, BISHOP OF LONDON, Against the five aforesaid Martyrs, the 6th day of March, being the second time of the Examination.

    First , That thou hast thought, believed, and spoken, within some part of the city and diocese of London, that the faith, religion, and ecclesiastical service here observed and kept, as it is in the realm of England, is not a true and a laudable faith, religion, and service, especially concerning the mass and the seven sacraments, nor is agreeable to God’s word and testament; and that thou canst not find in thy heart without murmuring, grudging, or scruple to receive and use it, and to conform thyself unto it, as other subjects of this realm customably have done and do. 2. Item, That thou hast thought, etc., that the English service set forth in the time of king Edward the sixth, here in this realm of England, was and is good and godly, and catholic in all points, and that it alone ought here in this realm to be received, used, and practiced, and none other. 3. Item, Likewise thou hast thought, etc., that thou art not bound to come to thy parish church, and there to be present, and hear matins, mass, even-song, and other divine service, sung or said there. 4. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that thou art not bound to come to procession to the church, upon days and times appointed, and to go in the same with others of the parish, singing or saying then the accustomed prayers used in the church; nor to bear a taper or candle on Candlemas-day; nor take ashes upon Ash-Wednesday; nor bear palms upon Palm-Sunday; nor to creep to the cross upon days accustomed; nor to receive and kiss the pax, a170 at mass-time; nor to receive holy water or holy bread; nor to accept and allow the ceremonies and usages of the church, after the manner and fashion, as they are used in this realm. 5. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that thou art not bound at any time to confess thy sins to any priest, and to receive absolution at his hands, as. God’s minister, nor to receive at any time the blessed sacrament of the altar, especially as it is used in this church of England. 6. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that in matters of religion and fait, h, thou must follow and believe thine own conscience only, and’ not give credit to the determination and common order of the catholic church, and the see of Rome, nor to any member thereof. 7. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that all things do chance of an absolute and precise mere necessity; so that whether man do well or evil, he could not choose but do so; and that therefore no man hath any free will at all. 8. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that the fashion and manner of christening of infants, is not agreeable to God’s word; and that none can be effectually baptized, and thereby saved, except he have years of discretion to believe himself, and so willingly accept or refuse baptism at his pleasure. 9. Item, thou hast thought, etc., that prayers to saints, or prayers for the dead, are not available, and not allowable by God’s word, or profitable in any wise; and that the souls departed do straightways go to heaven or hell, or else do sleep till the day of doom, so that there is no place of purgation at all. 10. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that all such as in the time of king Henry the eighth, or in the time of queen Mary, in England, have been burned as heretics, were no heretics at all, but faithful and good christian people; especially Barnes, Garret, Jerome, Frith, Rogers, Hooper, Cardmaker, Latimer, Taylor, Bradford, Philpot, Cranmer, Ridley, and such like; and that thou didst and dost allow, like, and approve all their opinions, and dost mislike their condemnations and burnings. 11. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that fasting, and prayers used in this church of England, and the appointing of days for fasting, and the abstaining from flesh upon fasting days, and especially in the time of Lent, is not laudable or allowable by God’s word, but is hypocrisy and foolishness; and that men ought to have liberty to eat at all times all kinds of meat. 12. Item, Thou hast taught, etc., that the sacrament of the altar is an idol, and to reserve and keep it, or to honor it, is plain idolatry and superstition: and likewise of the mass and elevation of the sacrament. 13. Item, Thou hast thought, etc., that thou or any else, convented before all ecclesiastical judge concerning matters of belief and faith, art not nor is bound to make answer at all, especially under an oath upon a book.

    THEIR ANSWERS TO THE ARTICLES BEFORE OBJECTED.

    Their answers to these objections were, that as touching the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, ninth, tenth, and twelfth, they generally granted unto, saving that they denied[the souls of the departed to sleep till the day of judgment, as is mentioned in the ninth article.

    And as concerning the sixth objection, they thought themselves bound to believe the true catholic church, so far forth as the same doth instruct them according to God’s holy word; but not to follow the determinations of the erroneous and Babylonical church of Rome.

    As for the seventh, eighth, and thirteenth, they utterly denied, that ever they were of any such absurd opinions as are contained therein, but they granted that man of himself, without the help and assistance of God’s Holy Spirit, hath no power to do any good thing acceptable in God’s sight.

    To the eleventh they said, that true fasting and prayer, used according to God’s word, are allowable and available in his sight; and that by the same word every faithful man may eat all meats at all times, with thanksgiving to God for the same.

    After this, the first day of April, they were again convented before the bishop in his palace at London, where little appeareth to be done, except it were to know whether they would stand to their answers, and whether they would recant or no. But when they refused to recant and deny the received and infallible truth, the bishop caused them to be brought into the open consistory, the 3d day of the same month of April, in the forenoon, where first understanding by them their immutable constancy and steadfastness, he demanded particularly of every one, what they had to say, why he should not pronounce the sentence of condemnation.

    To whom Thomas Loseby first answered, “God give me grace and strength to stand against you, and your sentence, and also against your law, which is a devouring law, for it devoureth the flock of Christ. And I perceive there is no way with me but death, except I would consent to your devouring law, and believe in that idol the mass.”

    Next unto him answered Thomas Thirtel, saying, “My lord, I say thus, if you make me a heretic, then you make Christ and all the twelve apostles heretics: for I am in the true faith and right belief; and I will stand in it, for I know full well I shall have eternal life there-for.”

    The bishop then asked the like question of Henry Ramsey, who said again, “My lord, will you have me to go from the truth that I am in? I say unto you, that my opinions be the very truth, which I will stand unto, and not go from them: and I say unto you further, that there are two churches upon the earth, and we,” meaning himself, and other true martyrs and professors of Christ, “be of the true church, and ye be not.”

    Unto this question next answered Margaret Hide, saying, “My lord, you have no cause to give sentence against me; for I am in the true faith and opinion, and will never forsake it; and I do wish that I were more strong in it than I am.”

    Last of all answered Agnes Stanley, and said, “I had rather every hair of my head were burned, if it were never so much worth, than that I will forsake my faith and opinion, which is the true faith.”

    The time being now spent, they were commanded to appear again at afternoon in the same place: which commandment being obeyed, the bishop first called for Loseby, and after his accustomed manner willed his articles and answers to be read; in reading thereof, when mention was made of the sacrament of the altar, the bishop with his colleagues put off their caps. Whereat Loseby said, “My lord, seeing you put off your cap, I will put on my cap;” and therewithal did put on his cap. And after, the bishop continuing in his accustomable persuasions, Loseby again said unto him, “My lord, I trust I have the Spirit of truth, which you detest and abhor; for the wisdom of God is foolishness unto you.” Whereupon the bishop pronounced the sentence of condemnation against him: and delivering him unto the sheriff, called for Margaret Hide, with whom he used the like order of exhortations. To whom notwithstanding she said, “I will not depart from my sayings till I be burned: and my lord,” quoth she, “I would see you instruct me with some part of God’s word, and not to give me instructions of holy bread and holy water, for it is no part of the Scripture.” But he, being neither himself, nor any of his, able rightly to accomplish her request, to make short work, used his final reason of convincement, which was the sentence of condemnation; and therefore leaving her off, called for another, viz. Agnes Stanley, who upon the bishop’s like persuasions made this answer: “My lord, whereas you say I am a heretic, I am none; neither yet will I believe you, nor any man that is wise will believe as you do. And as for these that ye say be burnt for heresy, I believe they are true martyrs before God: therefore I will not go from my opinion and faith as long as I live.”

    Her talk thus ended, she received the like reward that the other had. And the bishop then turning his tale and manner of enticement unto Thomas Thirtel, received of him likewise this final answer, “My lord, I will not hold with your idolatrous ways, as you do; for I say, the mass is idolatry, and will stick to my faith and belief, so long as the breath is in my body.”

    Upon which words he was also condemned as a heretic.

    Last of all was Henry Ramsey demanded if he would (as the rest) stand unto his answers, or else recanting the same, come home again, and be a member of their church. Whereunto he answered, “I will not go from my religion and belief as long as I live; and my lord,” quoth he, “your doctrine is naught, for it is not agreeable to God’s word.”

    After these words, the bishop, to conclude, pronouncing the sentence of condemnation against him and the rest, as ye have heard, charged the sheriff of London with them; who being thereunto commanded, the 12th day of the same month of April, brought them into Smithfield, where altogether in one fire most joyfully and constantly they ended their temporal lives, receiving there-for the life eternal.

    THE STORY OF STEPHEN GRATWICK AND TWO OTHER MARTYRS, BURNED IN ST. GEORGE’S FIELDS, IN SOUTHWARK.

    After these moreover, in the month of May, followed three others that suffered in St. George’s-fields in Southwark: William Morant, Stephen Gratwick, with one King, who suffered at the same time.

    Among other histories of the persecuted and condemned saints of God, I find the condemnation of none more strange nor unlawful than of this Stephen Gratwick: who first was condemned by the bishop of Winchester and the bishop of Rochester, which were not his ordinaries. Secondly, when he did appeal from those incompetent judges to his right ordinary, his appeal could not be admitted. Thirdly, when they had no other shift to color their inordinate proceedings withal, they suborned one of the priests to come in for a counterfeit and a false ordinary; and sit upon him.

    Fourthly, being openly convinced and overturned in his own arguments, yet the said bishop of Winchester, Dr. White, neither would yield to the force of truth, nor suffer any of the audience assistant once to say, God strengthen him. Fifthly, as they brought in a false ordinary to sit upon him; so they pretended false articles against him which were no part of his examinations, but of their devising, to have his blood. Sixthly and lastly, having no other ground nor just matters against him, but only for saying these words, “That which I said I have said,” they read the sentence of death upon him.

    And this was the dealing of these men, which needs will be reputed for catholic fathers of the spirituality, succeeders of the apostles, disciples of Christ, pillars of the holy church, and leaders of the people: of whose doings and proceedings, how agreeable they are to the example of Christ and his apostles, I leave to discuss, referring the judgment hereof to them which know the institution of Christ’s religion and doctrine.

    Now lest, peradventure, the disordered misrule of these Christmas, lords will not be credited upon the simple narration of the story, ye shall hear the whole discourse of this process, registered by the hand, of the martyr himself, who as he could tell best what was done, so I am sure would not testify otherwise than the truth was, according as you shall hear by his own declaration here following.

    THE DECLARATION OF STEPHEN GRATWICK CONCERNING HIS OWN STORY AND CONDEMNATION.

    Upon the 25th day of May, in the year of our Lord 1557, I Stephen Gratwick came before the bishop of Winchester, Dr.

    White, into St. George’s church in Southwark at eight of the clock in the morning, and then he called me before him, and said unto me, “Stephen Gratwick, how standeth the matter with thee now? Art thou contented to revoke thy heresies, the which thou hast maintained and defended here within my diocese, oftentimes before me? And also upon Sunday last ye stood up in the face of the whole church maintaining your heresies; so that you have offended within the liberty of my diocese. And now I being your ordinary, you must answer to me directly, whether you will revoke them or not, the which I have here in writing: and if so be that you will not revoke them, then I will excommunicate you. And therefore note well what you do, for now I read here the articles against you.”

    And so when he had ended, he bade me answer unto them. Gratwick: — “My lord, these articles which you have here objected against me, are not mine, but of your own making; for I never had any of mine examinations written at any time. And therefore these be objections that you lay against me as a snare, to get my blood.

    Wherefore I desire your lawful favor, to allow my lawful appeal unto mine ordinary; for I have nothing to do with you. And whereas you do burden me, that I have offended within your diocese, it is nothing so; for I have not enterprized either to preach or teach within your diocese, but was apprehended by mine own bishop and sent prisoner into your diocese, by the consent of the council and mine own ordinary; and therefore I so being in your diocese, you have no cause to let my lawful appeal.”

    And with that there came the bishop of Rochester, and was received at the bishop of Winchester’s hands with much gladness, according to their determinate purpose before invented. And so followed the archdeacon of Canterbury. And then the bishop again start up as a man half ravished of his wits for joy, embracing him with many gentle words, and said, that he was very glad of his coming; making himself ignorant thereof, as he thought it should appear to me.

    Then said Winchester, Sir, I am very glad of your coming. For here I have one before me, who hath appealed unto you, being his ordinary.” Then said the archdeacon of Canterbury, I know this man very well. He hath been divers times before me.” And then I answered and said, “My lord, I am not of his diocese, not by five miles: for his diocese reacheth on that parties but to the cliffs of Lewes, and I dwelt at Bright Helmson, five miles beyond, in the diocese of the bishop of Chichester; and therefore I am not of his diocese.”

    Then the bishop of Winchester, the bishop of Rochester, and the archdeacon of Canterbury, cast their heads together, and laughed: and then they said, my ordinary would be here by and by. And so they sent forth for a counterfeit, instead of mine ordinary; and then I saw them laugh, and I spake unto them and bent to have my blood.”

    And then came rushing in their counterfeited bishop, who was the hired servant to deliver me into the hands of the high priest; and the bishop hearing him come, with haste inquired of his man, who was there; and he said, “My lord of Chichester.” Then the bishop of Winchester with haste rose up and said, “Ye are most heartily welcome;” and required him to sit down; and then said the bishop of Winchester to me, “Lo! here is your ordinary: what have you now to say unto him?” Gratwick: — “I have nothing to say unto him. If he have nothing to say unto me, I pray you let me depart.” Then answered my counterfeit ordinary and said,” Here you stand before my lords and me in trial of your faith; and if you bring the truth, we shall by compulsion give place unto you, as it is to be proved by the word; and your doctrine to be heard and embraced for a truth.”

    Then I demanded of him whether he meant by authority, or by the judgment of the Spirit of God in his members.” And he answered me, “By authority as well as by the Spirit.”

    Then I said, “Now. will I turn. your own argument upon you; for Christ came before the high priests, scribes, and pharisees, bringing the truth with him; being the very truth himself, which truth cannot lie; yet both he and his truth was condemned, and took no place with them, and also the apostles, and all the martyrs that died since Christ. Therefore I turn your own argument upon you; answer it if you can!”

    Then he, with a great heat of choler said unto the bishop of Winchester, “Object some articles against him, for he is obstinate, and would fain get out of our hands, therefore hold him to some particular:” so that other answer could I not have of his argument.

    Then the bishop of Winchester began to read his objections of his own making against me, and bade me answer unto them. And I said, “No, except you would set the law apart, because I see you are mindful of my blood.” Winchester: — “Now you may see he will not answer to these, but as he hath aforesaid.”

    Then spake the counterfeit ordinary again, and said, “My lord, ask him what he saith to the sacrament of the altar.” Then the bishop asked me, as my counterfeit ordinary required him. Gratwick: — “My lord, I do believe that in the sacrament of the Supper of the Lord, truly ministered in both kinds, according to the institution of Christ, unto the worthy receiver, he eateth mystically by faith the body and blood of Christ.” Then I asked him if it were not the truth. And he said, “Yes.” Then said I, “Bear witness of the truth.”

    Then the bishop of Winchester, whose head being subtilest to gather upon my words, said, “My lord, see you not how he creepeth away with his heresies, and covereth them privily? Note, how he here separateth the sacrament of the altar from the supper of the Lord, meaning it not to be the true sacrament; and also how he condemneth our ministration in one kind, and alloweth that the unworthy receiver doth not eat and drink the body and blood of Christ; which be sore matters truly weighed, being covered very craftily with his subtle shifts and sophistry; but he shall answer directly or ever he depart.” Gratwick: — “My lord, this is but your gathering of my words, for you before confessed the same sayings to be the truth; and thus you catch at me, and fain would have a vantage for my blood. But seeing you judge me not to mean the sacrament of the altar, now come to the probation of the same sacrament, and prove it to be the true sacrament, and I am with you; or else if you can prove your church to be the true church, I am also with you.”

    But then he called to memory the last probation of the church and sacraments, how he before was driven to forsake the Scriptures, and to show me by good reason how they might minister the sacrament in one kind. And his reason was this: — Like as a man or woman dieth on a sudden, and so when we have given him the body of Christ, in the meantime the party dieth, and so he eateth the body of Christ, and not drinketh his blood. And this was his simple shift in the proving of their sacraments: so that he was now half abashed to begin that matter again. But yet a little subtle shift he brought in, and said, “What sayest thou by the administration of the priests every day for themselves, and they minister in both kinds?” To that I answered, “You have two administrations; for I am sure at Easter you minister but in one kind, and therefore it is not according to the institution of Christ, but after your own imaginations.” Winchester: — “Why, then what sayest thou to these words, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ These are the words of Christ. Wilt thou deny them?” Gratwick: — “My lord, they are the words of Scripture, I affirm them, and not deny them.” Rochester: — “Why, then thou dost confess in the sacrament of the altar to be a real presence, the selfsame body that was born of the Virgin Mary, and is ascended up into heaven.” Gratwick: — “My lord, what do you now mean? Do you not also mean a visible body? for it cannot be but of necessity — if it be a real presence, and a material body, it must be a visible body also.” Winchester: — “Nay, I say unto thee, it is a real presence, and a material body, and an invisible body too.” Gratwick: — “My lord, then it must needs be a fantastical body; for if it should be a material and invisible, as you affirm, then it must needs be a fantastical body: for it is apparent, that Christ’s human body was visible and seen,” Then the bishop of Winchester brake out and said, “When didst thou see him? I pray thee tell me.” To that I answered and said, “A simple argument it is: because our corporal eyes cannot comprehend Christ, doth that prove or follow, that he is invisible, because we cannot see him?”

    And with that the bishop of Winchester began to wax weary of his argument, and removed his talk to Judas in eating the sacrament, and said, “He ate him wholly, as the apostles did.”

    And then I asked him, if he meant Christ’s flesh and blood, the which he speaketh of in John 6, and saith, “He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life in me.” To that the bishop of Winchester answered and said, “Yea.”

    Then said I, “Of necessity Judas must needs he saved, because he did eat the flesh, and drink the blood of Christ, as you have affirmed; and also all the ungodly that die without repentance, because they have eaten your sacrament, which you say is the flesh and blood of Christ; therefore of necessity they shall receive the benefit thereof, that is, eternal life; which is a great absurdity to grant. And then of necessity it must follow, that all that eat not, and drink not of your sacrament, shall finally perish and be damned; for Christ saith, ‘Except ye eat my flesh and drink my blood, you can have no life in you.’ And you have afore said that your sacrament is the same flesh and blood that Christ speaketh of.

    And here I prove, that all children, then, that die under age to receive the sacrament, by your own argument must be damned; which is horrible blasphemy to speak. Now here I turn your own argument upon you; answer it if you can!” Winchester: — “My lord, do you not see what deceitful arguments he bringeth in here against us, mingled with sophistry, and keepeth himself in vantage, so that we can get no hold upon him? But I say unto thee, thou perverse heretic, I see now thou art a perverse fellow. I had a better opinion of thee; but now I see we lose our time about thee.

    Yet I answer thee, St. Paul doth open John 6 plainly, if thou wilt see; for he saith, ‘They eat Christ’s body, and drink his blood unworthily, and that was the cause of their damnation.’” Gratwick: — “My lord, take heed ye do not add to the text; for he that addeth unto the text, is accursed of God. And I am sure here you have brought more than Paul hath spoken; for he saith not, because they have eaten his body and drunk his blood unworthily; but St. Paul saith, ‘Whosoever shall eat of this bread, and drink of the cup unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of Christ.’ Note, my lord, he saith not as you have affirmed, but clean contrary.”

    And with that they were all in a great rage. And the bishop of Winchester said, I belied the text. And then I called for the text.

    And he said, I asked thee even now, if thou understoodest Latin, and thou saidst, “Whether I can or no, the people shall bear witness in English.”

    And so I called again for the Testament, whether it were Latin or English, for the trial of the text.

    And then when the bishop of Winchester saw that I cared not whether of the translations I had, he stood up, thinking to beguile some simple man that had a book there, and bade him that had an English Testament to bring it in, that he might get some hold at him that should bring a Testament. But God disappointed him thereof, and so he flew away from his matter, and began to rail upon me, and said my subtle arguments should not serve; for if I would not answer directly, I should nevertheless be excommunicated. “For,” said he, “I see a mad toy in thine head: thou gloriest much in thy talk, and thinkest now the people are come about thee, that thou shalt encourage them with thy constant heretical opinion. For the last day, when thou wast before me upon Sunday, in St. Mary Overy’s church, thou there reprovedst my sermon, and hadst a thousand by thee at the least, to bid God strengthen thee: but now let me see him here, that dare open his mouth to bid God strengthen thee; he shall die the death that thou shalt die.”

    To that I answered, “My lord, I know your cruelty doth extend more largely than your pity. Good experience so I have to say, for you keep men in prison a year or two, taking their books from them, permitting them not so much as a Testament to look upon for their soul’s comfort, the which all men ought to have; and so you entreat them more like brute beasts than christian men.” Winchester: — “No, sir; we will use you as we will use the child: for if the child will hurt himself with the knife, we will keep the knife from him. So, because you will damn your souls with the word, therefore you shall not have it.” Gratwick: — “My lord, a simple argument you bring to maintain and cover your fault. Are you not ashamed to make the word the cause of our damnation? I never knew any man but only you, that did not affirm our sins to be the cause of our damnation, and not the word, as you say; and therefore if your argument be good, then this is good also: because that some men do abuse drink, therefore the benefit of drink should be taken from all men, or any other such like good gift.” Winchester: — “My lords, here we lose much time, for this fellow is perverse, speaking nothing but sophistry and perverse questions; so that we can get no advantage upon him.”

    Then spake my counterfeit ordinary, as one half asleep all this while; yet somewhat with haste when he was awaked, he began to tell his tale, and said, “Read these articles against him once more, and if he will not answer them, take him upon his first words: ‘That which I said, that I have said.’” Then the bishop of Winchester began to read them again. But I said unto him, I would not answer them, because they were none of mine examinations, but objections of their own making, because they would have my blood. But yet I said, if they would set the law apart, I would talk my conscience freely to them.

    Then my counterfeit ordinary began to speak again, charging me with the saying of St. Peter, that I should render account of such hope as was in me. Gratwick: — “So can I do, and yet I shall not please you; for here I now render my hope as St. Peter willeth me: I believe only in Jesus Christ to have my whole salvation in him, by him, and through him; but I perceive you would have me render my faith in such sort, as you may have my blood, and therefore you bring good Scriptures, and evil apply them.” f290 Winchester: — “Why, this fellow is perverted, and we shall get no more at his hands than we have already; therefore let us pronounce sentence against him, for we do but lose our time.” Gratwick: — “Nay, good my lord, seeing you will needs have my blood, let me say a little more for myself. Upon Sunday last, when I was before you, you preached this which was a truth, and agreeable to the doctrine of the apostle St. James, and said, ‘If any man think himself a religious man, and in the meantime seduce his tongue or his heart, the same man’s religion is a vain religion.’ And so my lord, you, standing there in the pulpit, in the meantime seduced your tongue to slander us poor prisoners, being there present in iron bonds, burdening us with the sect of Arians, and with the sect of Herodians, and with the sect of Anabaptists, and with the sect of Sacramentaries, and with the sect of Pelagians. And when we stood up to purge ourselves thereof, you said you would cut out our tongues, and cause us to be pulled out of the church by violence., But there you gave yourself a shrewd blow, for your tongue in: the meantime slandered your neighbor. For I, my lord, will give my life against all these heresies, the which you there burdened us withal, even as I will give my life against that wherein I now stand before you.” f291 And with that he was raging angry, and caught my condemnation, and said, “Thou wilt grant here no more, but this word; that I have said, I have said. And here I gather matter enough to condemn thee, for this is a confirmation of all that thou hast heretofore said.”

    Then I answered, “If you can prove that ever any of mine examinations were written, it were enough; but you have nothing against me, but objections of your own making.” Winchester: — “Have at thee now. If thou wilt not yield, I will pronounce sentence against thee. And so he proceeded forth onward apace, cursing and banning in Latin; so that I told him, “If the people might hear it in English, they would think you an uncharitable bishop.”

    And then I said, “Stay, my lord, and note what you do; for you have neither temporal law, nor spiritual, here against me in any just cause.”

    Then stepped forth a gentleman, and said unto my lord, “Take heed what ye do; for he doth here say, that you have no title nor cause, why you should condemn him.”

    Then the bishop looked about him again, and asked me if I would recant. I asked him, whereof I should recant.

    Then said the bishop, “Are you there? Nay then I know what I have to do.” And so he proceeded forth in reading my condemnation. And there was another gentleman which began to snap and snatch at me: and then said I, “I would God I had known this, ere ever I had come from home; I would surely have put on my breech, and not had my skin thus torn.” And all this while the bishop read forth still.

    At last his chaplains cried, “Stop, stop, my lord: for now he will recant.” And then the bishop asked me again. And I answered and said, “My lord, my faith is grounded more steadfastly than to change in a moment; it is no process of time can. alter me, unless my faith were as the waves of the sea.” And so the bishop made an end, and delivered me into the hands of the sheriff, to be carried prisoner to the Marshalsea again.

    And when I was condemned, I desired God with a loud voice, that he would not lay my blood to their charge, if it were his good will; and so then they refused my prayer, and sent me away. Then I began to talk as I went, and they cried, “Cut out his tongue, or stop his mouth ;” and so I was brought to the Marshalsea, and lapped in iron bands. Therefore I pray unto God that they unto whom this present writing shall come, may take example by my death and soldier-fare. So be it.

    By me Stephen Gratwick , condemned for God’s everlasting truth.

    STEPHEN GRATWIEK TO THE READER.

    Here, for want of time, I have left out many matters, because the Lord hath hastened the time, so that I have written but the briefness of the matter in probation of faith, and the reward of faith, the which the bishop of Rochester and I debated upon; the which matter I would have been very glad to have set down in writing.

    Also much more talk there was, that the bishop of Winchester and I had concerning my worldly friends and personal, estate; for he played Satan with me. He carried me up to the mountains, and there told me, my learning was good, and my eloquence, and also my knowledge; save that I did abuse it, said he. And then he fell to praising of my person, that it was comely, and worthy to serve a prince. Thus Satan flattered with me, to make me answer unto such objections as he would lay against me, that I might fall into his diocese.

    Thus Stephen Gratwick, this christian martyr, being wrongfully condemned by the bishop of Winchester (as ye have heard), was burned with William Morant, and one King, in St. George’s-fields, about the latter end of May.

    SEVEN GODLY MARTYRS, FIVE WOMEN AND TWO MEN, BURNED AT MAIDSTONE, FOR THE WORD OF TRUTH, AND PROFESSING THE SINCERE RELIGION OF CHRIST, JUNE 18.

    I showed a little before, how after the universal proclamation was sent and set forth by the Icing and queen in the month of February last, the storm of persecution began in all places to rise (whereof some part also is declared before): but yet in no place more than in the country and diocese of Canterbury, by reason of certain the aforesaid inquisitors, being now armed with authority, but especially by reason of Richard Thornton suffragan of Dover, and Harpsfield archdeacon of Canterbury, who of their own nature were so furious and fiery against the harmless flock of Christ, that there was no need of any proclamation to stir up the coals of their burning cruelty, by reason whereof many a godly saint lyeth slain under the altar; as in divers places of this book well may appear.

    And now to return to the said diocese of Canterbury again, in the next month following, being the month of June, the 18th day of the same, were seven christian and true faithful martyrs of Christ burned at Maidstone , a171 whose names here follow: Joan Bradbridge of Staplehurst, Walter Appleby of Maidstone, Petronil his wife, Edmund Allin of Frittenden, Katherine his wife, John Manning’s wife of Maidstone, and Elizabeth a blind malden.

    As concerning the general articles commonly objected to them in the public consistory, and the order of their condemnation, it differeth not much. from the usual manner expressed before, neither did their answers in effect much differ from the others that suffered under the same ordinary in the foresaid diocese of Canterbury.

    Now as touching their accusers and manner of apprehension, and their private conflicts with the adversaries, I find no great matter coming to my hands, save only of Edmund Allin some intimation is given me, how his troubles came, and what was his cause and answers before the justices, as here consequently ye shall understand.

    THE STORY OF EDMUND ALLIN.

    This Allin was a miller, of the parish of Frittenden in Kent, and in a dear year, when many poor people were like to starve, he fed them, and sold his corn better cheap by half than others did; and did not that only, but also fed them with the food of life, reading to them the Scriptures, and interpreting them. This being known to the popish priests thereabout dwelling, by the procurement of them, namely, of John Tailor parson of Frittenden, and Thomas Henden parson of Staplehurst, he was eftsoons complained of to the justices, and brought before sir John Baker knight; who, first sending for them, committed both him and his wife to ward, but not long after they were let out, I know not how, and so went over unto Calais, where, after that he had continued a certain space, he began to be troubled in conscience; and there meeting with one John Webbe, of the same parish of Frittenden (who was likewise fled from the tyranny of sir John Baker, and parson Tailor), said unto him, that he could not be in quiet there, whatsoever the cause was; “for God,” said he, “had something to do for him in England.” And thus shortly he returned home again to the parish of Frittenden, where was a cruel priest, there parson, called John Tailor.

    This parson Tailor, being informed by his brother sexton, that Edmund Allin the miller, and his wife, were returned, and were not at mass-time in the church; as he was the same time in the midst of his mass, upon a Sunday, a little before the elevation (as they term it), even almost at the lifting up of his Romish god, he turned him to the people in a great rage, and commanded them with all speed to go unto their house, and apprehend them, and he would come to them with as much haste as might be possible.

    Which promise he well performed; for he had not so soon made an end of Ite, missa est,” and the vestments off his back, but by and by he was at the house; and there laying hand of the said Allin, caused him again to be brought to sir John Baker, with a grievous complaint of his exhorting and reading the Scriptures to the people: and so were he and his wife sent to Maidstone prison. — Witnessed by Richard Fletcher vicar of Cranbrooke, and John Webbe of Frittenden.

    They were not so soon in prison, but master Baker immediately sent unto their house certain of his men, John Dove, Thomas Best, Thomas Linley, Percival Barber, with the aforesaid John Tailor, parson of Frittenden, and Thomas Henden, parson of Staplehurst, to take an inventory of all the goods that were in the house, where they found, in the bedstraw, a casket locked with a padlock; and so, cutting the wist thereof, opened it, and found therein a sackcloth bag of money, containing the sum of thirteen or fourteen pounds, partly in gold and partly in silver; which money after they had told, and put in the bag again, like good carvers for themselves, they carried it away with them.

    Besides also they found there certain books, as Psalters, Bibles, and other writings; all which books with the money, were delivered to the foresaid priest Thomas Henden, parson of Staplehurst; and after, in the reign of this queen, were by right law recovered a172 from him again, as in records remaineth to be seen.

    Thus good Edmund Allin and his wife, being maliciously accused, wrongfully imprisoned, and cruelly spoiled and robbed of all their goods, were brought (as is aforesaid) before sir John Baker the justice, to be examined; who, taunting and reviling him without all mercy and pity, asked him if those were the fruits of his gospel, to have conventicles to gather people together, to make conspiracies to sow sedition and rebellion. And thus he began with him to reason.

    THE TALK OR REASONING BETWEEN SIR JOHN BAKER, COLLINS, HIS CHAPLAIN, AND EDMUND ALLIN. Baker: — “Who gave thee authority to preach and interpret? Art thou a priest? Art thou admitted thereunto? Let me see thy license.”

    Martin Collins, sir John Baker’s schoolmaster, said, “Surely he is an arrant heretic, and worthy to be burned.” Allin: — “And it may please your honor to give me leave to answer in the cause of my faith; I am persuaded that God hath given me this authority, as he hath given to all other Christians. Why are we called Christians, if we do not follow Christ, if we do not read his law, if we do not interpret it to others that have not so much understanding? Is not Christ our Father? Shall not the son follow the Father’s steps? Is not Christ our Master, and shall the scholar be inhibited to learn and preach his precepts? Is not Christ our Redeemer, and shall not we praise his name, and serve him that hath redeemed us from sin and damnation? Did not Christ, being but twelve years of age, dispute with the doctors, and interpret the prophet Isaiah?(Luke 4) and yet notwithstanding he was neither of the tribe of Levi, which were priests, but of the royal tribe of Judah; neither had taken any outward priesthood: wherefore, if we be Christians, we must do the same.” Collins: — “And it shall like your honor, what a knave is this, that compareth himself with Christ!” Baker: — “Let him alone, he will pump out anon an infinite heap of heresies. Hast thou any more to say for thyself?” Allin: — “Yea that I have. Adam was licensed of God, and Abraham was commanded to teach his children and posterity. And so David teacheth in divers Psalms. And Solomon also preached to the people, as the book of the Preacher proveth very well, where he teacheth that there is no immortal, felicity in this life, but in the next. .And Noah taught them that were disobedient in his days, and therefore is called ‘the eighth preacher of righteousness,’ in the second Epistle of Peter.

    Also in Numbers 11., where Moses had chosen seventy elders to help him to teach and rule the rest, Eldad and Medad preached in the tents; wherefore Joshua, being offended, complained to Moses that Eldad and Medad did preach without license. To whom Moses answered, and wished that all the people could do the like. Why should I be long?

    Most of the priests were not of the tribe of Levi and Aaron.” Collins: — “These are authorities of the Old Testament, and therefore abrogated; but thou art a fool, and knowest no school-points.

    Is not the law divided into the law ceremonial, moral, and judicial?” Allin: — “I grant that the ceremonies ceased when Christ came, as St.

    Paul proveth to the Hebrews; and to the Colossians, where he saith, ‘Let no man judge you in any part of the Sabbath-day, new moon, or other ceremonies, which are figures of things to come; for Christ is the body.’”(Colossians 1) Collins: — “And are not the judicials abrogated by Christ?” Allin: — “They are confirmed both by Christ in Matthew 5 and by Paul in 1 Timothy 4: ‘The law,’ saith he, ‘is not set forth for the virtuous and godly; but for men-slayers, perjured, adulterers, and such like.’” Collins: — “Thou art a heretic. Wilt thou call the judicials of Moses again? Wilt thou have adultery punished with death? disobedient children to their parents to be stoned? Wilt thou have ‘legem talionis?’

    But thou art an ass. Why should I speak Latin to thee, thou erroneous rebel? Shall we now smite out eye for eye, tooth for tooth? Thou art worthy to have thy teeth and tongue plucked out.” f295 Allin: — “If we had that law, we should neither have disobedient children, neither adulterers, neither false witness-bearers, neither ruffians.” Baker: — “Master Collins, let us return to our first matter. Why didst thou teach the people, whom thou saidst thou didst feed both bodily and spiritually, being no priest?” Allin: — “Because that we are all kings to rule our affections, priests to preach out the virtues and word of God, as Peter writeth, and lively stones to give light to others. For as out of flint stones cometh forth that which is able to set all the world on fire, so out of Christians should spring the beams of the gospel, which should inflame all the world, if we must give a reckoning of our faith to every man, and now to you demanding it, then must we study the Scriptures, and practice them. What availeth it a man to have meat, and will eat none; and apparel, and will wear none; or to have an occupation, and to teach none; or to be a lawyer, and utter none? Shall every artificer be suffered, yea and commended, to practice his faculty and science, and the Christian forbidden to exercise his? Doth not every lawyer practice his law? Is not every Christian a follower of Christ? Shall ignorance, which is condemned in all sciences, be practiced of Christians? Doth not St. Paul forbid any man’s Spirit to be quenched?

    Doth he prohibit an man that hath any of these gifts, which he repeateth (1 Corinthians 14), to practice the same. Only he forbiddeth women, but no man. The Jews never forbade any. Read the Acts of the Apostles. And the restraint was made by Gregory, the ninth a173 pope of that name, as I heard one, a learned man, preach in king Edward’s days.’ Collins: — “This villain (and it like you honor) is mad. By my priesthood, I believe that he will say, that a priest hath no more authority than another man. Doth not a priest bind and loose?” a174 Allin: — “No, my sin bindeth me, and my repentance looseth. God forgiveth sin only, and no priest: for every Christian when he sinneth, bindeth himself, and when he repenteth, looseth himself. And if any other be loosed from his sin by my exhortation, I am said to loose him; and if he persevere in sin, notwithstanding my exhortation, I am said to bind him, although it is God that bindeth and looseth, and giveth the increase. Therefore saith Christ,(Matthew 18.) ‘Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them; and whosesoever sins they forgive, they are forgiven; and whosesoever they retain, they are retained.’ Neither hath the pope any keys save the keys of error; for the key that openeth the lock to God’s mysteries and to salvation, is the key of faith and repentance. And as I have heard learned men reason, St. Augustine and Origen, with others, are of this opinion.”

    Then they reviled him, and laid him in the stocks all the night; wherewith certain that were better minded, being offended with such extremity, willed Allin to keep his conscience to himself, and to follow Baruch’s counsel in the sixth chapter: “Wherefore when ye see the multitude of people worshipping them behind and before, say ye in your hearts, O Lord, it is thou that ought only to be worshipped.” Wherewith he was persuaded to go to hear mass the next day; and suddenly, before the sacring, went out; and considered in the church-yard with himself, that such a little cake between the priest’s fingers could not be Christ, nor a material body, neither to have soul, life, sinews, bones, flesh, legs, head, arms, nor breast; and lamented that he was seduced by the place of Baruch, which his conscience gave him to be no Scripture, or else to have another meaning, And after this he was brought again before sir John Baker, who asked why he did refuse to worship the blessed sacrament of the altar. Allin: — “It is an idol.” Collins: — “It is God’s body.” Allin: — “It is not.” Collins: — “By the mass it is.” Allin: — “It is bread.” Collins: — “How provest thou that?” Allin: — “When Christ sat at his supper, and gave them bread to eat.” Collins: — “Bread, knave?” Allin: — “Yea bread, which you call Christ’s body. Sat he still at the table, or was he both in their mouths, and at the table? If he were in their mouths, and at the table, then had he two bodies, or else had a fantastical body; which is an absurdity to say it.” Baker: — “Christ’s body was glorified, and might be in more places than one.” Allin: — “Then had he more bodies than one, by your own placing of him.” Collins: — “Thou ignorant ass! the schoolmen say, that a glorified body may be everywhere.” Allin: — “If his body was not glorified till it rose again, then was it not glorified at his last supper; and therefore was not at the table, and in their mouths by your own reason.” Collins: — “A glorified body occupieth no place.” Allin: — “That which occupieth no place, is neither God, nor any thing else. But Christ’s body, say you, occupieth no place; therefore it is neither God, nor any thing else. If it be nothing, then is your religion nothing. If it be God, then have we four in one Trinity, which is. the person of the Father, the person of the Son, the person of the Holy Ghost, the human nature of Christ. If Christ be nothing, which you must needs confess, if he occupieth no place, then is our study in vain, our faith frustrate, and our hope without reward.” Collins: — “This rebel will believe nothing but Scripture. How knowest thou that it is the Scripture but by the church? and so saith St. Augustine.” f297 Allin: — “I cannot tell what St. Augustine saith, but I am persuaded, that it is scripture by divers arguments; first, that the law worketh in me my condemnation. The law telleth me that of myself I am damned; and this damnation, master Collins, you must find in yourself, or else you shall never come to repentance. For as this grief and sorrow of conscience, without faith, is desperation; so is a glorious and Romish faith, without the lamentation of a man’s sins, presumption. The second is the gospel, which is the power and spirit of God. ‘This Spirit,’ saith St. Paul, ‘certifieth my spirit, that I am the son of God,’ and that these are the Scriptures. The third are the wonderful works of God, which cause me to believe that there is a God, though we glorify him not as God.(Romans 1.) The sun, the moon, the stars, and other his works (as David discourseth in Psalm 19.), declare that there is a God, and that these are the Scriptures because that they teach nothing else but God, and his power, majesty, and might; and because the Scripture teacheth nothing dissonant from this prescription of nature.

    And fourthly, because that the word of God gave authority to the church in paradise, saying, that the seed of the woman should break down the serpent’s head. This seed is the gospel; this is all the Scriptures, and by this we are assured of eternal life; and these words, ‘The seed of the woman shall break the serpent’s head,’ gave authority to the church, and not the church to the word.” Baker: — “I heard say, that you spake against priests and bishops.” Allin: — “I spake for them; for now they have so much living, and especially bishops, archdeacons, and deans, that they neither can nor will teach God’s word. If they had a hundred pounds a piece, then would they apply their study: now they cannot for other affairs.” Collins: — “Who will then set his children to school?” Allin: — “Where there is now one set to school for that end, there would be forty, because that one bishop’s living, divided into thirty or forty parts, would find so many as well learned men as the bishops be now, who have all this living, neither had Peter or Paul any such revenue.” Baker: — “Let us despatch him; he will mar all.” Collins: — “If every man had a hundred pounds, as he saith, it would make more learned men.” Baker: — “But our bishops would be angry, if that they knew it.” Allin: — “It were for a commonwealth to have such bishoprics divided, for the further increase of learning.” Baker: — “What sayest thou to the sacrament?” Allin: - “As I said before.” Baker: - “Away with him.”

    And thus was he carried to prison, and afterwards burned. And thus much touching the particular story of Edward Allin and his wife; who, with the five other martyrs above named, being seven (to wit, five women and two men), were altogether burned at Maid-stone the year and month aforementioned, and the 18th day of the same month.

    ANOTHER STORY OF LIKE CRUELITY, SHOWED UPON OTHER SEVEN MARTYRS, BURNT AT CANTERBURY; THREE MEN AND FOUR WOMEN.

    Among such infinite seas of troubles in these most dangerous days, who can withhold himself from bitter tears, to see the madding rage of these pretensed catholics, who, being never satisfied with blood to maintain their carnal kingdom, presume so highly to violate the precise law of God’s commandments, in slaying the simple poor lambs of the glorious congregation of Jesus Christ, and that for the true testimony of a good conscience, in confessing the immaculate gospel of their salvation? What heart will not lament the murdering mischief of these men, who for want of work do so wreak their tine on silly poor women, whose weak imbecility the more strength it lacketh by natural imperfection, the more it ought to be helped, or at least pitied; and not oppressed of men that be stronger, and especially of priests that should be charitable.

    But blessed be the Lord Omnipotent, who supernaturally hath endued from above such weak creatures with such manly stomach and fortitude, so constantly to withstand the uttermost extremity of these pitiless persecutors: as he did before strengthen the mother of the seven sons in the Maccabees, and as he hath done since with divers and sundry other godly women in these our latter days, partly before mentioned, and partly to be mentioned hereafter, as here presently may appear by the martyrdom of seven hereunder following, of the which were four women and three men, burnt together at Canterbury the 19th of the said month of June, in the year aforesaid, whose names are these: John Fishcock, f299 Nicholas White, Nicholas Pardue, Barbara Final, widow, Bradbridge’s widow, Wilson’s wife, Benden’s wife.

    As it were too tedious exactly and particularly to prosecute the several story of every one of these godly martyrs; so I cannot pass over untouched the cruel and unchristian handling of Alice Benden during her imprisonment, according as I have received by the faithful relation of them which best were acquainted with her, and partly also of some doers in the matter, being her own natural brethren. The story is thus:

    THE ORDER OF THE IMPRISONMENT AND TRAGICAL HANDLING OF ALICE BENDEN, Wife of Edward Benden, of the Parish of Staplehurst, in the County of Kent; for the Testimony of Christ’s Gospel.

    First Alice Benden was brought before one master Roberts, of Cranbrooke, in said county, the 14th day of October, in the year of our Lord 1550, of whom she was demanded why she would not go to the church. And she answered, that she could not so do with a good and clear conscience, because there was much idolatry committed against the glory of God. For the which with many mocks and taunts she was sent to prison, where she lay fourteen days; for on the 20th day of October her husband required his neighbors, the wealthy men of Staplehurst, to write to the bishop of Dover, who had the chief government of the tyrannical sword in Kent for those days, which they did, desiring him to send her home.

    Wherefore the bishop called her before him, and asked her if she would go home, and go home and to the church. Whereunto she answered, “If I would have so done, I need not to have come hither.” “Then wilt thou go home, and be shriven of thy parish priest?” And she said, No, that would she not. “Well,” said he, “go thy ways home, and go to the church when thou wilt.” Whereunto she answered nothing; but a priest that stood by, said, “She saith, she will, my lord.” Wherefore he let her go, and she came forthwith home.

    On the Saturday following, her husband willed her to go to the church; which she both then and else when refused to do.

    Wherefore on the Sunday, fourteen days after, he, going to the church, came into the company of divers inhabitants of the same parish; among whom, through his fond talk and behavior, he procured her to be sent to sir John Guilford, who commanded her to prison again: yea, and the more to utter his own shame, the said her husband took money of the constable to carry her to prison, the price of his wife’s blood, meaning indeed to carry her to prison himself. But she, having much more care of his honest and good report, than he had regard (as it is easy to see) of his own infamy, and no less ashamed of his so rude and unnatural doings, chose rather to commit herself willingly into the hands of her enemies, than that the world should witness against her husband of so facinorous a fact. Wherefore she went to the constable, desiring him to go with her. But he answered that he could not so do, but granted her his boy to go with her, with whom she went to prison, namely, the castle of Canterbury, according to the commandment given.

    Where this one thing is worthy to be noted, that while she was in this prison, she practiced with a prison-fellow of hers, the wife of one Potkin, to live both of them with twopence-halfpenny a day, to try thereby how well they could sustain penury and hunger, before they were put to it. For they had heard, that when they should be removed from thence to the bishop’s prison, their livings should be but three farthings a-piece a day, and did indeed both so live for fourteen days ere she was from thence removed.

    The 22d day of January following, her husband went again to the bishop, desiring him to deliver his wife out of prison; but he said she was an obstinate heretic, and would not be reformed; and therefore said that he could not deliver her.

    Then said he, “My lord, she hath a brother, whose name is Roger Hall, that resorteth unto her. If your lordship could keep him from her, she would turn; for he comforteth her, giveth her money, and persuadeth her not to return or relent.”

    This occasion was not so soon given, but it was as quickly taken, and as cruelly put in execution. For the bishop commanding her upon the same to a prison, called Monday’s Hole, there also he gave a strait charge, that if at any time her brother came, he should be taken and apprehended. This prison was within a court where the prebend’s chambers were, being a vault beneath the ground, and being before the window inclosed with a pale, of height, by estimation, four feet and a half, and distant from the same three feet, so that she looking from beneath, might only see such as stood at the pale. After this her brother sought often for her, with no less danger of life than diligence. But for the unknown situation of the place, it being also bur rarely used for a prison, and the matter as closely kept, as it was secretly done, he could never come to understand of. her being there, until through God’s merciful will and unsearchable providence, he coming thither very rathe in a morning, her keeper being then gone to the church to ring (for he was a bellringer), chanced to hear her voice, as she poured out unto God her sorrowful complaints, saying the psalms of David. And there could he none otherwise relieve her, but by putting money in a loaf of bread, and sticking the same on a pole, and so reached it unto her; for neither with meat nor drink he could sustain her. And this was five weeks after her coming thither; all the which time no creature was known to come at her, more than her keeper.

    Her lying in that prison was only upon a little short straw between a pair of stocks and a stone wall; being allowed three farthings a day, that is, half-penny bread, and a farthing drink, neither could she get any more for her money. Wherefore she desired to have her whole allowance in bread, and used water for her drink. Thus did she lie nine weeks; during all which time she never changed her apparel, whereby she became at the last a most piteous and loathsome creature to behold.

    At her first coming into this place, she did grievously bewail with great sorrow and lamentation, and reasoned with herself, why her Lord God did with his so heavy justice suffer her to be sequestered from her loving fellows into so extreme misery.

    In these dolorous mournings did she continue, till on a night as she was in her sorrowful supplications, rehearsing this verse of the psalm, “Why art thou so heavy, O my soul?” And again, “The right hand of the Most High can change all;” she received comfort in the midst of her miseries, and after that continued very joyful until her delivery from the same.

    About the 25th day of March, in the year of our Lord 1557, she was called before the bishop, who demanded of her, whether she would now go home, and go to the church or no, promising her great favor, if she would be reformed and do as they did.

    To whom she answered, “I am throughly persuaded by the great extremity that you have already showed me, that you are not of God, neither can your doings be godly; and I see,” saith she, “that you seek my utter destruction;” - showing how lame she then was of cold taken, and for lack of food, whilst she lay in that painful prison; whereby she was not able to move herself without great pain.

    Then did the bishop deliver her from that filthy hole and sent her to West-gate, where, after she had been changed, and for a while been clean kept, her skin did wholly so peel and scale off, as if she had been with some mortal venom poisoned. Here she continued till the latter end of April; at which time they called her before them, and with others condemned her, committing her then to the prison called the Castle; where she continued till the slaughter-day, which was the 19th day of June, when by terrible fire they took away her life.

    When she was at the stake, she cast her handkerchief unto one John Banks, requiring him to keep the same in memory of her, and from about her middle she took a white lace, which she gave to the keeper, desiring him to give the same to her brother Roger Hall, and to tell him that it was the last band that she was bound with, except the chain. A shilling also of Philip and Mary she took forth, which her father had bowed a175 and sent her when she was first sent to prison, desiring that her said brother should with obedient salutations render the same to her father again, and show him that it was the first piece of money that he sent her after her troubles began, which (as she protested) she had kept, and now sent him to do him to understand, that she never lacked money while she was in prison.

    With this Alice Benden were burned also the residue of the other blessed martyrs above named, being seven in number; who, being brought to the place where they should suffer for the Lord’s cause at Canterbury, undressed themselves joyfully to the fire; and being ready thereto, they all (like the communion of saints) kneeled down, and made their humble prayers unto the Lord with such zeal and affection as even the enemies of the cross of Christ could not but like it. When they had made invocation together, they rose and went to the stake, where, being compassed with horrible flames of fire, they yielded their souls and lives gloriously into the hand of the Lord; *unto whose eternity the Son of God bring us all.

    Amen.* Bradbridge’s wife, when she was condemned of the bishop to be burned, had two children named Patience and Charity; who then said to the bishop, that if he would needs burn her, yet she trusted, that he would take and keep Patience and Charity; meaning her two children. “Nay,” quoth the bishop, “by the faith of my body I will meddle with neither of them both.”

    THE TROUBLES AND EXAMINATIONS OF MATTHEW PLAISE, WEAVER OF THE PARISH OF STONE, IN THE COUNTY OF KENT.

    Unto these holy martyrs of Kent above specified, whereof seven suffered at Maidstone, and seven at Canterbury, I thought not unmeet here also to be adjoined the examination of Matthew Plaise, a weaver, of the same county of Kent, and a faithful Christian; who, being apprehended and imprisoned likewise, for the testimony of a good conscience, in the castle of Canterbury, was brought to examination before the bishop of Dover, and Harpsfield the archdeacon, as here is to be read and seen.

    THE EXAMINATION AND ANSWERS OF MATTHEW PLAISE, Before Thornton, Bishop of Dover; Harpsfield, Archdeacon; Collins, Commissary, and other Inquisitors, anne 1557.

    First, when I came before the bishop, he asked me whether I were not of that diocese, and where I dwelt; for that was my first article.

    I answered, I was of the parish of Stone, in Kent, and subject unto the king and queen of England.

    Then he said, I was indicted by twelve men at Ashford, at the sessions, for heresy. I said, that was sooner said than proved.

    Then he said, it was the truth that he had spoken to me, for he had whereby to prove it. Then I desired him to let me hear it, and I would answer to it.

    But he said he would not do so, but I should answer to my article, yea or nay. I said, he could not; for I was not at Ashford, and therefore he had nothing to lay to my charge. “But now I perceive you go about to lay a net, to have my blood.”

    After many words betwixt the bishop and me, the archdeacon said, “Peace, peace, we do not desire thy blood, but we are glad to hear that thou art no heretic;” with many flattering words: and said, yet I was suspected of heresy, and if I would be content to confess how I did believe as concerning those articles, they would gladly teach me.

    But I said, “I do not think so, for I talked with one of your doctors, and after long talk, he would needs know how I did believe in the sacrament; and I recited unto him the text, and because I would not make unto him an exposition, he would teach me nothing. Yet I prayed him for my learning to write his mind; and if it were the truth, I would believe him. And this I did desire him for the love of God, but it would not be.”

    Then said he, it was not so, he durst swear upon a book. I said it would be so proved.

    Then he stood up, with a long process, and said, he would tell me the truth, and was sure that the same doctor did believe as he did. I asked him how he knew that, :seeing St. Paul doth say, that no man knoweth what is in man, but the Spirit which dwelleth in him: “but if you wist what Christ meant by these words, ‘I require mercy and not sacrifice,’(Matthew 12.) you would not kill innocents.”

    The bishop began with me again, and charged me in the king and queen’s name, and the lord cardinal’s, to answer yea or nay to the articles that followed.

    Then I commanded, in His name that should come in flaming fire with his mighty angels to render vengeance to the disobedient, and to all those that believed not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, which should be punished with everlasting damnation, that he should speak nothing but the truth grounded upon Christ and his apostles, and then I would answer him, or else not.

    Then he was very angry, and said, if I would not answer, he would condemn me indeed, unless I would answer every article. “Well,” said I, “If you do, you shall be guilty of my blood, and prove yourself a murderer.”

    Then the archdeacon took the articles in his hand, and read the second article, which was, that I was a christian man, and did believe in their mother the catholic church, and the determination thereof. I said, I was a christian man indeed, and therefore they had nothing against me.

    Then said he, “What sayest thou to the catholic church, which hath so long continued, except it were nine or ten years that this heresy hath sprung up here in this realm?” I said, “No man can accuse me of any thing spoken against the catholic church of Christ.”

    Then said the bishop, “Dost thou not believe the Creed?” Plaise: — “Yes, verily, I believe my Creed, and all that is written in the Testament of Christ, with the rest of the Scriptures.” “Then,” saith he, “thou dost confess that there is a catholic church; I am glad of that. But tell me, are the king and queen of that church, or no?” f305 “Well,” said I, “now I perceive you go about to be both mine accuser and also my judge, contrary to all right. I confess Christ hath a church upon earth, which is built upon the apostles and prophets, Christ being the head thereof. And as touching the king and queen, I answer, I have nothing to do with any man’s faith but mine own; neither came I hither to judge, for I judge not myself, but the Lord must judge me.”

    Then said he, “Is there no part of that church here in England?” Plaise: — “Well, I perceive you would fain have something to lay to my charge: I will tell you where. Christ saith, ‘Where two or three be gathered together in his name, there is he in the midst among them.’” Then the archdeacon stood up with his mocks, to put me out of comfort; and said to the people, that I had no wit, but that I thought all they were deceived so long time, and that half a dozen of us should have the truth in a corner, and that all they should be deceived; with such like taunts and mocks, but would not suffer me to speak one word.

    Then he read the article of the sacrament, and said, I did deny the real presence to be in the sacrament after it was once consecrated; and that I said, Christ’s body was in heaven, and no where else; and that the bread was nothing but a sign, token, or remembrance.

    Then I said, “You have to show where and what my words were.”

    And hereof we talked a great while.

    At the last the bishop was so angry, that he charged me in the king’s, queen’s, and cardinal’s name, before the mayor and his brethren, taking them to witness, if I did not say yea or nay, he would condemn me.

    Then I said, “Seeing you have nothing to accuse me of, wherefore should I so answer?”

    Then the archdeacon said, I was guilty; and said I was like a thief at the bar, which would not confess his fault, because his accusers were not present; with a great many words, and would not let me open my mouth against him.

    Then I saw whereabout they went, granting to answer them by the word, or else I think they would have condemned me for holding of my peace; and this was my beginning: “I believe that Christ took bread, and when he had given thanks he brake it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat, this is my body, which is given for you; this do in remembrance of me.’” Archdeacon: — “Dost thou believe that Christ meant even as he said?”

    I said, “Christ was no dissembler, but he spake the very truth.” Archdeacon: - “Thou hast very well said, we will make the best of thy words.” Then he praised me with many words, going about to prove it his body real and substantial, and said, “Christ called himself bread. And this to prove: when Christ said, ‘This is my body,’ the bread was his body indeed, said he, real and substantial; not so long and so big as it hung on the cross, as the Capernaites did think; but we eat it, as man’s weak nature can eat Christ.

    Therefore when he had said, ‘This is my body,’ the bread was his body in very deed.”

    Then I asked him, what Christ meant by these words, “which is given for you.”

    He said, “Christ spake that by the bread also; but it was not written in Matthew, but Luke had those words.”

    Then I asked him, If Christ’s body were made of bread, whether that was given for our redemption, or whether the bread was crucified for us, or not? Then he said, “No, by St. Mary, I say not so.” Plaise: — “You have said the truth indeed, and even as I believe.”

    Then he stood up with a great many of words, and said, that I did think it but bare bread still, as other bread is: but he was sure Christ called it his body, and then it was his body indeed; for he would believe Christ. f307 When he had spoken his pleasure by me, thinking to have condemned me by their law, I said he had not judged right of me, for I had not so spoken, but did believe the words of Christ as well as he, and as much as he could prove by the word.

    Then he would hear what I did say it was. I said, I did believe it was that he gave them.

    Then he asked me, what was that he gave them. I said, that which he brake. Then he asked me, what was that he brake. I said, that he took. Archdeacon: — “What was it that he did take?”

    I said, the text saith he took bread. Archdeacon: — “Well then, thou sayest it was but bread that his disciples did eat, by thy reason.” Plaise: — “Thus much, I say: Look, what he gave them, they did eat in deed.” Archdeacon: — “Why, then was not that his body that they did eat?” Plaise: — “It was that which he brake.” “Well,” said he, “I perceive thy meaning well enough; for thou dost think it is but bread still, and that he was not able to make it his body.” Plaise: — That is your exposition upon my mind.”

    Then said he, “What didst thou receive, when thou didst receive last?”

    I said, “I do believe that I did eat Christ’s flesh, and drink his blood: for he saith, ‘My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed.’” Then he said, I had well answered, thinking to have had some advantage at my hand; and prayed me to tell him, how I did eat his flesh and drink his blood. Then I said, “I must answer you by the word which Christ saith, ‘He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.’” Then he faced out the matter with sophistry, and said I did eat Christ, as that church was in his eye; with many such mocks, but would not let me answer one word. Then the commissary did ask me, if I did not remember St. Paul, which did rebuke the Corinthians for their evil behavior, and because they made no difference of the Lord’s body, and brought in to prove his matter, how he called himself bread in John 6. “So Paul saith, ‘So oft as ye eat of this bread [meaning Christ’s body] unworthily, ye eat and drink your own damnation, because ye make no difference of the Lord’s body.’ For thus saith Christ, ‘The bread that I will give you is my flesh.’ Now it is no bread, but it is his flesh.” And thus he alleged every scripture false, to make up the matter.

    Then I said, I did believe the words of St. Paul very well, even as he had spoken them: for thus he saith, “He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh his own damnation, because he maketh no difference of the Lord’s body.” Commissary: — “What is the cause that he eateth his own damnation?”

    I said, “St. Paul declareth it plainly with these words, ‘If ye had judged yourselves, ye should not have been judged of the Lord.’” Then the archdeacon said, he marveled why I would not say that he called the bread his body, seeing Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, with many others, said he, called it his body. f308 I said,” You have condemned them as heretics, and you would have me say with them, because you would kill me.”

    Then he said, “In that they said it was his body, they did say the truth.” I asked, wherefore they were killed, seeing they said the truth.

    Then said the bishop, that he had all their answers, and that they did not believe as they said. For they said, Christ called it his body, but it was not his natural body; “but thou shalt answer me by and by, whether it be his body or not, or else I will anger thee.”

    Then I said I had answered him by the word, already, and did believe it also; therefore if he did condemn me for that, my life was not dear unto me, and I was sure he should not scape unpunished; for God will be revenged upon such murderers.

    Then the archdeacon entreated me to be ruled by him, and take mercy while it was offered; for if I were condemned, I must needs be burned. Yet he would not say but my soul might be saved; — with many more words. And desired me that I would believe him, for he would speak the truth: beginning how Christ: fed five thousand people with four loaves, and how he turned the water into wine; even so Christ took bread and blest it, and when he had done, he brake it; and said, “This is my body;” and then he commanded them to eat it, and therefore it must needs be his body.

    Then I desired him to speak the text right, or else I would not believe him.

    Then he stood tap, and put off his cap, and thanked me for teaching of him; and said, I was a stubborn fellow, and took scorn to be taught.

    I said, I ought to hold him accursed, if he taught doctrine contrary to Christ and his apostles.

    Then he asked me, whether I did believe that Christ did give that he took, or not? I said, “I do believe as much as can be proved by the Scripture, and more I will not believe.”

    Then he began with Moses’s rod, how God commanded him to lay it down, and it was turned into a serpent. Seeing that this was by Moses, being but a man, how much more Christ, being both God and man, took one thing, and gave to his disciples another?

    I said, his comparison was nothing like, for Moses’s rod when it was laid down, he saw that it was turned into a very serpent indeed; but in this sacrament no man can see either quality or yet quantity to be changed.

    Then said the bishop, that mine opinion and faith was like unto the Capernaites. I said, theirs was more like their opinion, than mine.

    The archdeacon asked me, whether Christ took one thing, and gave another? I said, “Look, what he brake he gave unto them, and bade them eat; and other answer I will make none, contrary to the word.”

    Then he said, he marveled why I would not believe them, seeing this learning had continued this fifteen hundred years; neither yet did say, as others had before, how Christ did call it his body.

    Then I said, “When Cranmer, which was here bishop, was in authority, he said, that he did hold the truth, and commanded us to believe him; and he hath given his life for his opinion; and would you have me to believe you, because you say that you hold the truth? And that which makes me believe chiefly, is the Scripture, which I am sure is the truth indeed.”

    The bishop said, he had spoken the truth, and that I would not believe. I said, if he did not now speak the truth, I was sure he had spoken the truth; for he had reached before, doctrine clean contrary unto this.

    Then were the rest of my articles read, which I answered; and in every article he had up this breaden god. And they sent for a candle-light, and I thought they would, have. Condemned me; but God would not suffer their cruel hearts to have their pleasure that time, blessed be his name for evermore, Amen.

    Then the archdeacon was angry, and began to chide with me, because I would not desire a day of the bishop; and said I was a naughty stubborn fellow; and said, It had been my duty to have desired him to have been good to me, that I might have a day. Then I stud, I have spoken the truth; and therefore I would ask him no day, except he would give me a day of his own mind.”

    Then said the commissary, “Dost thou not think that thou mayest be deceived, seeing he may be deceived that hath gone to study all the days of his life?” I said, “Yea, I might be deceived, in that I was a man; but I was sure God’s word could not be deceived.”

    Then he prayed me to be content, and confessed that I might learn, and said, They would he glad to teach me. And I said, I would be as glad to learn as any man. — And thus they rose up and went away, saying nothing.

    What became of this Matthew Plaise after, whether he died in prison, or was executed, or delivered, I have as yet no certain knowledge.

    THE HISTORY OF TEN TRUE GODLY DISCIPLES AND MARTYRS OF CHRIST, BURNT TOGETHER IN ONE FIRE AT LEWES, ANNO 1557, JUNE 22.

    In the town of Lewes were ten faithful servants of God put in one fire, the 22d day of June, whose names follow: Richard Woodman, George Stevens, W. Mainrd, Alexander Hosman, his servant; Thomasin a Wood, Mainard’s maid; Margery Moris; James Moris, her son; Dennis Burgis, Ashdon’s wife, Grove’s wife.

    Of the which number Richard Woodman was the first; concerning whose apprehension, first by his enemies, and of his deliverance out of bishop Bonner’s hands; then of his second taking again by the procurement of his father, brother, kinsfolks, and friends; also of his sundry examinations and courageous answers before the bishops; and lastly of his condemnation, and of his letters sent to his faithful friends, here followeth to be declared by his own words and relation reported. Which Richard Woodman, by his occupation was an iron-maker dwelling in the parish of Warbleton, in the county of Sussex, and diocese of Chichester, of the age of thirty years and somewhat, more.

    The occasion of his first apprehension was this: There was one Fairebanke, who sometimes had been a married priest, and served the cure of Warbleton, where he had often persuaded the people not to, credit any’ other doctrine but that which he then preached, taught, and set forth, in king Edward’s days: and afterward, in the beginning of queen Mary’s reign, the said Fairebanke, turning head to tail, preached clean contrary to that which he had before taught.

    Whereupon Richard Woodman, hearing him in the church of Warbleton so to preach contrary to himself, admonished him of his inconstancy, how before time he had taught them one thing, and now another, and desired him to teach them the truth. For the which words he was apprehended, and brought before master John Ashbornham, master Tonston, and master Culpepper, and master Roberts, justices of peace in the county of Sussex, and by them committed to’ the King’s Bench, where he continued from June, the space almost of a year and half; and from thence was transferred by Dr. Story into Bonner’s coalhouse, where he remained the space of a month before he came to examination.

    At length, the same day when master Philpot was burned, which, was the 18th of December, he with four other prisoners was delivered and set at liberty by Bonner himself. Notwithstanding, shortly after he was sought for again, and at last found out and taken by means of his father, brother, and certain other his acquainted friends, and so was sent up again to London to bishop Bonner, where he remained in the coalhouse eight weeks. He was there six times examined, and twenty-six times before, so that his examinations were in all thirty-two, from his first apprehension to his condemnation. Touching the whole discourse whereof, forsomuch as the matter is something strange, and will peradventure scarce find credit upon my narration, with them which deny all things that like them not to believe, ye shall hear himself speak and testify both of the manner of his troubles, and also his own examinations by himself recorded, in order as followeth; *wherein may appear, as well the great grace and wisdom of God in that man.. as also the glorious vanity of his adversaries, but especially the fury of Dr. Story.* A TRUE CERTIFICATE WRITTEN BY RICHARD WOODMAN, Of his taking, and how he was brought to the Sheriffs the 15th of March, 1556, and how long he was in prison, and how he was there used, till he was brought before the Bishop of Chichester at Black-friars in London, with the order of his Examinations following after the same.

    Gentle reader, here you shall perceive how the Scriptures be partly fulfilled on me, being one of the least of his poor lambs. First, you shall understand, that since I was delivered out of the bishop of London’s hands, which was in the year of our Lord 1555, and the same day that master Philpot was burned, which was the 18th of December, I lay in his coalhouse eight weeks lacking but one day: and, before that, I was a year and a half almost in the King’s Bench after my first apprehension, for reproving a preacher in the pulpit, in the parish of Warbleton, where I dwelt. Wherefore I was at two sessions before I was sent to prison, and carried to two more sessions while I was in prison, twice before the bishop of Chichester, and five times before the commissioners; and then sent to London’s coalhouse, and many times called before him, as it appeareth by my examinations which I have wrote, the which examinations the bishop of Chichester now hath, for they were found in my house when I was taken; wherein is contained all the talk which I had before them aforenamed. Also there be in London that had copies of the same of me, when I was in the coalhouse.

    And it pleased God to deliver me with four more out of the butchers’ hands, requiring nothing else of us but that we should be honest men, and members of the true catholic church that was built upon the prophets and apostles, Christ being the head of the true church, the which all we affirmed that we were members of the true church, and purposed by God’s help therein to die. And hereupon we were delivered; but he willed us many times to speak good of him. And no doubt he was worthy to be praised, because he had been so faithful an aid in his master the devil’s business; for he had burnt good master Philpot the same morning, in whose blood his heart was so drunken (as I supposed), that he could not tell what he did, as it appeared to us both before and after. For but two days before, he promised us that we should be condemned that same day that we were delivered; yea, and the morrow after that he had delivered us, he sought for some of us again, yea and that earnestly.

    He waxed dry after his great drunkenness, wherefore he is like to have blood to drink in hell as he is worthy, if he repent it not with speed. The Lord turn all their hearts, if it be his will!

    This have I written, chiefly to certify all people how we were delivered, because many carnal gospellers and papists have said, that it was prescribed that we should be so delivered, because they think that God is subject to man, and not man to God; for if they did, they would not blaspheme him as they do, or if they thought they should give account for it. Have not many of them read how God delivered Israel out of Egypt? Daniel out of the lion’s den? Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego, out of the burning oven? with divers other such like examples; yea, God is the same God that he was then. He is no older, nor less in power, as some count him in wondering at his works. Now to the matter.

    After I was delivered, the papists said that I had consented to them, whereof they made themselves glad; the which was the least part of my thought (I praise God therefore), as they well perceived and knew the contrary within a while. For I went from parish to parish, and talked with them, to the number of thirteen or fourteen, and that of the chiefest in all the country; and I angered them so, that they with the commissioners complained on me to my lord chamberlain that was then to the queen, sir John Gage, showing him that I baptized children, and married folks, with many such lies, to bring me into their hands again. Then the commissioners sent out certain citations to bring me to the court. My lord chamberlain had directed out four or five warrants for me, that if I had come there, I should have been attached and sent to prison straightway; which was not God’s will; for I had warning of their laying await for me, and came not there, but sent my deputy, and he brought me word that the bailiffs: waited for me there; but they missed of their prey for that time, where upon they were displeased.

    Then, within three days after, my lord sent three of his men to take me, whose names were Deane, Jeffrey, and Frances. I, being at plough with my folks, right in the way as they were coming to my house, least mistrusting them of all other, came to them and spake to them, asking them how they did. And they said, they arrested me in the king and queen’s name, and that I must go with them to their master the lord chamberlain; which words made my flesh to tremble and quake, because of that sudden. But I answered them, that I would go with them. Yet I desired them, that they would go to my house with me, that I might break my fast, and put on some other gear; and they said, I should. Then I remembered myself, saying in my heart, “Why am I thus afraid? they can lay no evil to my charge. If’ they kill me for well doing, I may think myself happy.” I remembered how I was contented gladly before to die in that quarrel, and so had continued ever since; and should I now fear to die? God forbid that I should; for then were all my labor in vain.

    So by and by I was persuaded, I praise God; considering it was but the fraility of my flesh, which was loth to forego my wife and children, and goods: for I saw nothing but present death before mine eyes. And as soon as I was persuaded in my mind to die, I had regard of nothing in this world, but was as merry and glad and joyful, I praise God, as ever I was. This battle lasted not a quarter of an hour; but it was sharper than death itself for the time, I dare say.

    So when I had my breakfast, I desired them to show me their warrant, thinking thereby I should have seen wherefore I was arrested, to the intent I might the better answer for myself, when I came before their master. And one of them answered, they had not their warrant there; which words made me astonied, and it was put in my mind by God, that I need not go with them, unless they had their warrant. Then said I to them, “That is marvel, that you will come to take a man without a warrant. It seemeth to me, that you come of your own mind to get thank of your master; for indeed I heard say,” said I, “that there were four or five warrants out for me, but they were called in again, because I had certified my lord and the commissary, by a letter that I had sent to the commissary’s court, that I was not faulty in that they laid to my charge, which was for baptizing of children, and marrying of folks; the which I never did, for I was never minister appointed to do any such thing: wherefore set your hearts at rest, I will not go with you,” said I, “unless you will carry me by force; and if you will, do so, at your own adventures.” And so I rose from the board, and stepped into my chamber, meaning to go from them if I could possibly, seeing God had made the way so open for me. I meant to play Peter’s part with them, but God would not it should be so, but sent a fear amongst them, that as soon as I was gone into my chamber, ere ever I could come out again, they were gone out of my house.

    When I saw that, I knew it was God’s doing, to set me at liberty once again. Yet I was compelled to speak to them, and said, “If you have a warrant, I desire you for God’s sake to show it me, and I will go with you with all my heart: if not, I desire you to depart in God’s peace and the king’s: for surely I will not go with you without the order of the law; for I have been too simple in such things already. For before I was sent to prison first, I went to the justices, to two sessions, without any warrant or commandment, but had word by one of their men, and I went justly to them; and they sent me to prison, and kept me there almost a year and three quarters, without all right or equity, as it is openly known, not hearing my cause gently debated. And it seemeth strange to me, that I should be thus evil handled; and therefore I will go to none of them all henceforth, without the extremity of the law.”

    Then one of them answered me, and said, “We have not the warrant here, . but it is at home at my house; the worst is, you can but make us fetch it.” Then I said, “Fetch it, if you will; but if you come in my house before )’on have it, at your own adventure be it.” So I shut my door, and went my way out at the other door. So they got help to watch my house, whilst one of them fetched the constable and many more, thinking to have had me in my house, and to have taken me in any house, and carried me away with a license; but I was gone before, as God would have it.

    Notwithstanding they sought every corner of my house, but could not prevail. I mistrusted they would search it - again that night, and kept me abroad; and indeed there came seven of his men and the constable, and searched my house. And when they saw that they could not meet with me, they were ready to rend their coats, that I had escaped them so, knowing they should have such a check of their master. When I heard that they had sought so for me again, I, perceiving that they were greedy of their prey, came home, and my wife told me all things.

    Then I supposed that they would lay all the country for me, and the seacoast, because I should not go over, and then I thought that they would not mistrust that I would dare be nigh home. So I told my wife, that I would make my lodging in a wood not past a flightshot from my house; as I did indeed, even under a tree, and there had my Bible, my pen, and mine ink, and other necessaries, and there continued six or seven weeks, my wife bringing me meat daily as I had need. Yea, I thought myself blessed of God, that I was counted worthy to lie in the woods for the name of Christ. Then there came word into the country, that I was seen and spoken to in Flanders; whereupon they left laying in wait for me: for they had laid all the country for me, and the sea-coast from Portsmouth to Dover, even as God put in my mind they would.

    So when all was hushed, I went abroad among our friends and brethren; and at length I went beyond the sea both into Flanders and in France: but I thought every day seven years or ever I were at home again. So I came home again as soon as it was possible. I was there but three weeks; but as soon as I was come home, and it was once known among Baal’s priests, they could not abide it, but procured out warrants against me, causing my house to be searched sometimes twice in a week.

    This continued from St. James’s tide to the first Sunday in Lent.

    Otherwhile I went privily, otherwhile openly, otherwhile I went from home a fortnight or three weeks, otherwhile I was at home a month or five weeks together, living there most commonly and openly, doing such works as I had to do; and yet all mine enemies could lay no hands on me, till the hour was full come: and then, by the voice of the country, and by manifest proofs, mine own brother, as concerning the flesh, delivered me into their hands, by that he knew that I was at home. For my father and he had as much of my goods in their hands, as I might have fifty-six pounds for, by the year, clear, and thereunto prayed. It was a lordship and an honor, and half an honor, that I had delivered into their hands to pay my debts, and the rest to remain to my wife and children. But they had reported that it would not pay my debts, which grieved me sore; for it was two hundred pounds better than the debts came to: which caused me to speak to some of my friends, that they would speak to them to come to some reckoning with me, and to take all such money again of me as they were charged with, and to deliver me such writings and writs as they had of mine again, or to whom I would appoint them.

    So it was agreed betwixt my father and me, that I should have it again, and the day was appointed that the reckoning should be made and sent to me that same day that I was taken; my brother supposing that I should have put him out of most of all his occupying, that he was in; for it was all mine, in a manner, that he occupied, as all the country can, and do well know. Whereon (as it is reported) he told one Cardillar, my next neighbor, and he told some of master Gage’s men, or to master Gage himself. And so he sent to his brother, and his brother sent twelve of his men (he being sheriff) in the night before I was taken, and lay in the bushes not far from any house, till about nine of the clock, even the hour that was appointed amongst themselves; for about the same time they thought to have had me within my house.

    They had taken a man of mine, and two of my children that were abroad in the land, and kept them with them till their hour was appointed to come in; and then a little girl, one of my children, saw them come together, and came running in, and cried, “Mother, mother, yonder cometh twenty men!” I, sitting in my bed, and making of shoe-thongs, heard the words, and suspecting straightway that I was betrayed, I stirred out of my bed, and whipt on my hose, thinking to have gone out of the doors or ever they had been come. My wife, being amazed at the child’s words, looked out at the door, and they were hard by. Then she clapped to the door, and barred it fast, even as I came out of my chamber into the hall, and so barred the other: so the house was beset round straightway, and they bade open the doors, or else they would break them in pieces. Then I had no shift, but either I must show myself openly, or make some other remedy.

    So there was a place in my house that was never found, which was at the least, I dare say twenty times, and sometimes almost of twenty men, searched at once, both by night and day; into which place I went. And as soon as I was in, my wife opened the door, whereby incontinent they came and asked for me; and she said I was not at home. Then they asked her wherefore she shut the door, if I were not at home. She said because she had been made afraid divers times with such as came to search us; and therefore she shut the door. “For it is reported,” saith she, “that whosoever can take my husband, shall hang him or burn him straightway; and therefore I doubt they will serve me or my children, so; for I think they may do so unto us, as well as to lure, she sad. “Well,” said they, “we know he is in the house, and we must search it, for we be the sheriff’s men; let us have a candle. It is told us, there be many secret places in your house.” So she lighted a candle, and they sought up and down in every corner that they could find, and had given over; and many of them were gone out of my house into the church-yard, and were talking with my father, and with some that he had brought with him.

    Now when they could not find me, one of them went to him that gave them word that I was at home, and said, “We cannot find him.” Then he asked them whether they had sought over a window that was in the hall (as it was known afterward); for that same place I had told him of myself. For many times when I came home, I would send for him to bear me company; yet, as it chanced, I had not told him the way into it. Then they began to search anew. One looked up over the window, and spied a little loft, with three or four chests, and the way went in betwixt two of the chests, but there could no man perceive it. Then he asked my wife which was the way into it. “Here is a place that we have not sought yet.”

    When she thought they would see it by one means or other, she said the way was into it out of a chamber they were in even now.

    So she sent them up, and cried, “Away, away.” Then I knew there was no remedy, but made the best shift for myself that I could.

    The place was boarded over, and fast nailed, and if I had come out that way that I went in, I must needs come amongst them all in the hall. Then I had no shift, but set my shoulders to the boards that were nailed to the rafters to keep out the rain, and brake them in pieces, which made a great noise; and they that were in the other chamber, seeking for the way into it, heard the noise, and looked out of a window, and spied me, and made an outcry. But yet I got out, and leaped down, having no shoes on. So I took down a lane that was full of sharp cinders, and they came running after, with a great cry, with their swords drawn, crying, “Strike him, strike him!” which words made me look back, and there was never a one nigh me by a hundred foot; and that was but one, for all the rest were a great way behind. And I turned about hastily to go my way, and stepped upon a sharp cinder, with one foot; and saving of it, I stepped into a great miry hole, and fell down withal; and ere ever I could arise and get away, he was come in with me. His name is Parker the Wild, as he is counted in all Sussex. But if I had had on my shoes, they had been like to have gone away errandless, if there had been five hundred more, if I had caught the plain ground once, to the which I had not a stone’s cast. But it was not God’s will; for if it had, I should have escaped from them all, if there had been ten thousand of them.

    Then they took me and led me home again to put on my shoes, and such gear as I had need of. Then said John Fauconer, “Now your master hath deceived you. You said you were an angel; and if you had been an angel, why did you not fly away from us?” Then said I, “What be they that ever heard me say that I was an angel? It is not the first lie by a thousand that they have made of me. Angels were never begotten of men, nor born of women; but if they had said, they had heard me say, that I do trust I am a saint, they had not said amiss.” “What, do you think to be a saint?” “Yea that I do, and am already in God’s sight, I trust in God; for he that is not a saint in God’s sight already, is a devil. Therefore he that thinketh scorn to be a saint, let him be a devil.” And with that word they had brought me to mine own door; where met with me my father, and willed me to remember myself. To whom I answered, “I praise God, I am well remembered whereabout I go. This way was appointed of God for me to be delivered into the hands of mine enemies, but woe unto him by whom I am betrayed: it had been good for that man, that he had never been born, if he repent not with speed. The Scriptures are now fulfilled on me; ‘for the father shall be against the son, and the brother shall deliver the brother to death,’ as it is this day come to pass.” Then said one, “He doth accuse his father; a good child indeed!” “I accuse him not, but say my mind: for there was no man knew me at home, but my father, my brother, and one more, the which I dare say would not hurt me for all the goods in this town.”

    There was one George Beching, that married one of my sisters, and he thought that I had meant him, that he had betrayed me; and he said, “Brother, I would you should not think that I was the cause of your taking.” To whom I answered, that I meant him not; I meant one that was nearer of my blood than he was. Then said one of Lewes, that had been a gospeller, and stood from them when I was brought to a sessions to Lewes, and he said, “I thought you would have been an honest man when you were at Lewes, and I offered Hussey the sheriff to be bound for you, that you should go home to your wife, and come to him again.” Then I remembered what he was, and said, “Be you the pewterer?” And he said, “Yea.”

    Then said I, “It is happened to you according to the true proverb, as saith St. Peter, ‘The dog is turned to his vomit again, and the sow that is washed, to wallow in the mire,’ and the end of all such will be worse than the beginning.” Then his mouth was stopped, so that he had nothing to say.

    All this while I stood at my door without; for they would not let me go in. So I put on my shoes and my clothes. Then they put on a harness about my arms, made of a dog’s slip, which rejoiced my heart, that I was counted worthy to be bound for the name of God.

    So I took my leave of my wife and children, my father, and other of my friends, never thinking to see them more in this world. For it was so thought of all the country, that I should not live six days after my taking; for they had so reported. But yet I knew it was not as they would, unless God would grant it. I know what God can do; but what he will do I know not: but I am sure he will work all things for the best, for them that love and fear him. So we drank and went our way, and came to Firle about three of the clock.

    And thus much touching the causes and effect of the troubles of Richard Woodman. Now let us see his examinations, which follow in this order.

    THE FIRST EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN, BEFORE DR.

    CHRISTOPHER-SON BISHOP OF CHICHESTER, DR. STORY, DR.

    COOKE, AND OTHERS; THE 14TH DAY OF APRIL, 1557.

    First, you shall understand, that I was sent from the sheriffs to London, the 12th day of April, in the year of our Lord 1557; and afterward, upon the 14th day of the same month, I was brought before the bishop of Chichester, and Dr. Story, and Dr. Cooke. So the sheriff’s men delivered my warrant and me to the bishop. Then the bishop asked me what my name was.” “My name,” quoth I, “is Richard Woodman.” Chichester: — “I am sorry for you, and so are all the worshipful men of your country; for it hath been reported to me, that you have been a man of good estimation in all the country, amongst the poor and rich, till now of late. Wherefore look well upon yourself, your wife and children, your father, and other of your friends, and be ruled. Think not yourself wiser than all the realm. Be informed, and you shall have their favors all, as much as ever you had.” Woodman: — “You have charged me with many things wherein I have never offended; and, if you will give me leave, I will show you.” Chichester: — “Yes, I pray you, say your mind.” Woodman: — “If it please you, you have charged me as though I made myself wiser than all the realm: God doth know, I stand to learn of every man that will or can teach me the truth. And whereas you say, I have been well esteemed both of the poor and rich, God doth know, I know not that I have given any just offense, either to rich or poor. And as for my wife and children, God doth know how I love them in him, and my life also. My life, my wife, and my children, are all in God’s hands; and I have them all as I had them not, I trust, according to St.

    Paul’s words. But if I had ten thousand pounds of gold, I had rather forego it all, than them, if I might be in choice, and not displease God.” Chichester: — “The sheriff took pains to come to me of love, he said,, which,, he bare to you, as to himself; and said you were desirous to speak with me. Woodman: — “I thought it meet to appeal to mine ordinary; for they go about to shed my blood unrighteously: for they have laid many unjust things to my charge. Wherefore I thought it meet to appeal to you, that if you can find any fault in me meet to be reformed by God’s word, I stand to be reformed; and likewise if my blood shall be shed unrighteously, that it might be required at your hands, because you have taken upon you to be the physician of our country.” Story: — “Is not this a perverse fellow, to lay to your charge, that his blood shall be required at your hands? Thinkest thou that thou shalt be put to death unjustly, that thy blood should be required?

    No, if he should condemn a hundred such heretics as thou art. I helped to rid a good sort of you; and I promise thee, I will help to rid thee too, the best that I can.”

    Then I would have answered him, but the bishop desired us both to give him place. Chichester: — “Well, neighbor Woodman; I call you neighbor, because ye be one of my diocese; and you are sent to me, that I should give you spiritual counsel: for I am your spiritual pastor. Therefore hear what I shall say to you.” Woodman: — “First, I desire you to hear me a few words. You have said, you will give me spiritual counsel. Be you sure, that you have the Spirit of God?” Chichester: — “No, I am not sure of that.” Woodman: — “No! be you not sure of that?” Chichester: — “No, by St. Mary, I dare not be so bold to say so; I doubt of that.” Woodman: — “Then you be like the waves of the sea, as saith St.

    James, that be tossed about with the wind, and be unstable in all your ways, and can look for no good thing at the Lord’s hand: yea, ye are neither hot nor cold, and therefore God will spew you out of his mouth, as saith St. John.”

    Then they were in a great fury, especially Dr. Story, saying, “What a perverse fellow is this! He hath the devil within him, and is mad.

    He is worse than the devil. Now I perceive that it is true that is reported by thee, and it is the pride of all such heretics to boast themselves.” Chichester: — “Yea surely, he is sent to me to learn, and taketh upon him to teach me.”

    I seeing their blindness and blasphemy, it made my heart melt, and mine eyes gush out with tears, saying, “The Jews said to Christ, he had the devil, and was mad; as you have said here by me. But I know the servant is not above his Master. And God forbid that I should learn of him, that confesseth that he hath not the Spirit of God.” f314 Chichester: — “Why, do you think that you have the Spirit of God?” Woodman: — “I believe verily that I have the Spirit of God.” Chichester: — “You boast more than ever Paul did, or any of the apostles, the which is great presumption.” Woodman: — “I boast not in myself, but in the gift of God, as Paul did; for he said, he believed verily that he had the Spirit of God, (making thereof no doubts), in 1 Corinthians 7.” Chichester: — “It is not so; you belie the text.” Woodman: - “If it be not so, let me be burned tomorrow.” Story: — Thou shalt not be burned to-morrow; but thou shalt be burned within these six days, I promise thee.” Chichester: — “If it be so, it is wrong translated, as it is in a thousand places more.”

    Then one looked in a Latin Testament, and another in a Greek Testament, and they said, it was in them both, that Paul supposed a176 that he had the Spirit of God, but he was not sure. Chichester: — “Even so I hope and suppose that I have the Spirit of God, but I am not sure.” Woodman: — “If that place be wrong translated, and so many places of the Bible as you say, then I may say with Christ, It cannot be avoided, but offences must be given; but woe unto them by whom they come. I may say, Woe unto false translators: for cursed are they that add or take away. But take you heed that you belie not the translators.

    I believe they had the fear of God more before their eyes than you report of them. And yet if that place be wrong translated, I can prove by places enough, that Paul had the Spirit of God; as I myself, and all God’s elect have.” Chichester: — “How prove you that?” Woodman: — ‘No man can believe that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.’(1 Corinthians 7.) I do believe that Jesus Christ is my Redeemer; and that I shall be saved from all my sins by his death and bloodshedding, as Paul and all the apostles did, and as all faithful people ought to do; which no man can do without the Spirit of God.

    And as there is no damnation to them that are in Christ Jesus; so is there no salvation to them that are not in Christ Jesus. ‘For he that hath not the Spirit of Christ, is none of his,’(Romans 8.) but is a castaway, as he saith in the same text. And again, ‘We have not received the spirit of bondage, to fear any more, but we have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The same Spirit certifieth our spirits, that we are the sons of God.’(Romans 8.) Here are proofs enough, that Paul was Sure that he had the Spirit of God.

    Also St. John saith, ‘He that believeth not that Christ is come in the flesh, is an antichrist, and denieth both the Father and the Son:’ f315 which is sin against the Holy Ghost, which shall never be forgiven in this world, nor in the world to come. Beside all this, ‘He that believeth in God, dwelleth in God, and God in him.’(1 John 4.) So is it impossible to believe in God, unless God dwell in us. O good God!

    What more injury can be done unto thee, than to mistrust that we have received thy Holy Spirit by thy gift? Thus may all men see their blindness, and whose servants they be, as they do declare themselves, both by their words and deeds.” Story: — “O, my lord, what a heretic is this same! Why hear you him Send him to prison, to his fellows in the Marshalsea, and they shall be despatched within, these twelve days.

    When I heard him say so, I rejoiced greatly in my heart, desiring God, if it were his will, to keep him in that mind. For I looked surely to have gone to the bishop of London’s coalhouse, or Lollards’ tower, yea, I thought myself happy, if I might have gone to Lollards’ tower: but it pleased God to put in the hearts of them to send me to the Marshalsea amongst our brethren, and my old prison-fellows: so mercifully hath God dealt with me, in easing of my burden that I looked for. So when they perceived that I feared not imprisonment, but rather rejoiced, as they well perceived, then said the bishop, “Methinks he is not afraid of the prison.” Woodman: — “No, I praise the living God.” Story: — “This is a heretic indeed! He hath the right terms of all heretics; ‘the living God:’ I pray you be there dead gods, that you say the living God?” f316 Woodman: — “Be you angry with me, because I speak the words which are written in the Bible?” a177 Story: — “Bible-babble, bible-babble! What speakest thou of the Bible? There is no such word written in all the Bible.” Woodman: — “Then I am much to blame, if it be not so written: ‘Behold, for the offences that you have done, you shall be carried away captive by Nebuchadnezzar to Babylon, and there ye shall be seven generations. And when you be there, you shall see gods of gold, of silver, of wood, and of stone, borne before you and behind you upon men’s shoulders, to cast out a fear among the heathen. When you shall see all these abominations, then say you in your heart, It is the living God, that ought to be worshipped.’ Here I prove my saying true, both that there is a living God, and that there he dead gods. Also David saith in the Psalms, ‘My soul hath a desire and longing to enter into the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God;’ f317 with divers other places that I could recite. Wherefore I marvel that you rebuke me for speaking the truth.” Chichester: — “I do not deny but it is written, and is the truth, and I know it as well as you; but such is the speech of all heretics.” Story: — “My lord, I will tell you how you shall know a heretic by his words, because I have been more used to them than you have been; that is, they will say; ‘the Lord,’ and ‘we praise God,’ and ‘the living God:’ by these words you shall know a heretic.” Woodman: — “All these words are written for our learning, and we are commanded of the prophets to use them daily, as this: ‘the Lord’s name be praised from the rising up of the sun, unto the going down of the same.’ Also, ‘As many as fear the Lord, say always, The Lord be praised.’” Story: — “My lord, send him to prison; you shall do no good with him. I will go to church, and leave you here. This is an old heretic.

    Wast thou never before me ere now?” Woodman: — “Yes, forsooth, that I have.” Story: — “Yea, I trow so; and I sent thee to the bishop of London, and he released thee; and thou promisedst him to be an honest man, and that thou wouldst be of the true catholic church; which thou hast not fulfilled.” Woodman: — “I promised him nothing but I have fulfilled it. No man shall be able to prove the contrary.” Story: — “Well, it will be tried well enough. My lord, I will take my leave, I fear me you shall do this man no good.” Chichester: — “I would not have you to use such speeches as you do, as ‘the Lord be praised,’ and ‘the living God,’ with such like words. Can you not say as well, ‘our Lord,’ or ‘our God,’ as otherwise?” Woodman: — “I marvel why you should reprove me there-for, seeing they be the words of God. I do not refuse to say ‘our God,’ or ‘our Lord,’ when I talk of the scripture where it is written. If I should, it must follow, that I denied the words of God, and must needs be a heretic; but I do not. Wherefore, I marvel what you mean to find fault therein. It seemeth to me, that you mistrust that; I believe not as you do.” Chichester: — “Yea, that is my meaning indeed.” Woodman: — “I believe in the living God: if you do not so, then our beliefs be not alike indeed. But if it please you to examine me upon any particular matter, now, or at any other time, I will make you answer thereto, by God’s help.” Chichester: — “Though you believe in God, I can prove you believe not as you ought to do, as I can show you by your hand-writing. You have denied the catholic church; wherefore he that erreth from the church, it cannot be said that his faith is good. Wherefore be ruled by the church, from the which ye have erred. I can show you perilous things of your writing, if it should be known; but ye shall not be hurt for me, if you will come to any good order. But I promise you I would not for three thousand pounds some had so much against me, as I can show against you of your own hand-writing, which you cannot deny.” Woodman: — “I will not deny my hand, by God’s help; for I know well, I have written nothing at any time but the truth. There may be things written against me, reporting it to be mine, and yet be not; but my hand cannot well be counterfeited’ there be enough that know my hand.” Chichester: — “Do you know it yourself, if you see it?” Woodman: — “Yea, that I do.”

    Then he arose and fetched a great bundle of writings, and opened them, and bade me come see. I looked on them, and it was my hand indeed. Chichester: — “How say you? Is it not your own writing?” Woodman: — “Yes, surely it is.” Chichester: — “How say you to this, is not this your hand also?”

    I looked, and it was. And I said, “Yes, verily is it.” Chichester: — “Well, you know what it meaneth, I dare say.” Woodman: — “Yea, I know it very well. Here is a great deal, the which I had thought had been in my house, but I thank God that it is here; for in this you shall try whether it be true or not. For in this is contained all the talk that was betwixt the commissioners and me, when I was before them five times, and also before the bishop of London divers times: and I am sure, neither you nor they shall find any words false therein written. And I think the sheriff’s men, when they searched my house for me, when I was taken, found this, and carried it with them: but I never knew it before now. But I am not sorry for it, but am rather glad: for herein you may see all the wrong that I have received at their hands; and how long I was in prison; and how I was tossed up and down; and how I was delivered at length; and by this you may try whether it be so or not. I dare say they that found it, and they that brought it to you, had thought it would have turned me to displeasure; but in very deed all things work for the best, to them that fear God.” Chichester: — “Indeed, I find no great fault in this; but here is perilous gear, here is sedition. This was set up upon the church door; you know it well enough.” Woodman: — “Indeed I wrote it to the priest, and to others that took upon them to fetch my child out of my house without my leave, and used it at their pleasure, when they knew it was baptized already, as they were well certified before. Wherefore my conscience compelled me to show them my mind in writing, wherein is contained nothing but the Scriptures of God, rebuking them for their folly.” Chichester: — “Yea, but it is terribly meant, and uncharitably. It is such gear coupled together, I promise you, as I never saw the like. But I promise you, I will make the best of it. And I protest before God, I would you should do as well as mine own soul and body. Be contented: *be enformed . a178 * God hath done his part on you. Cast not yourself away. Remember your wife and children, and the poor that lack your occupying. Mean to follow your vocation. Remember you are not called to be a teacher nor a preacher. St. Paul saith, ‘Let every man walk wherein he is called, and therein abide.’ Remember you are called to another vocation; for God’s sake, walk therein. It is not your office, to do as you have done. You might do as much good (by the report of worshipful men) as any man might do in all the country, by your example; and if you would follow the laws of the catholic church, it would be an occasion to bring a great many into the true church, that are out, as you are.” Woodman: — “I would not that you should say, that I am out of the church of God; for I am not, but do allow the church of God according to his word. Yea, if I were abroad, if I could win any into the true church, that be out, by any means that I could use, I would be very glad. For God knoweth I love all people as myself. And whereas you say I have been a preacher, it is not so. I never took any such thing upon me, as it is well known. But as for teaching I cannot deny; for it becometh every man to teach and instruct his household in the fear of God, and all others, as far as he can, that desire it of him. And whereas you have blamed me for reading the Scripture, and leaving my vocation (as you say), I left not my vocation in reading the Scripture: for I trust I followed my vocation the better there-for. And the greatest cause that I was compelled to read the Scriptures, was, because the preachers and teachers were so changeable.” f322 Chichester: — “No? Did you not preach at a fair?” Woodman: — “No, surely; but it was so reported. I was at a fair, indeed. Whilst I was in prison, I had leave of the council to go home to pay my debts; and then I went to a fair to sell cattle, and there met with me divers poor men that I had set awork, and of love asked me how I did, and how I could away with imprisonment. And I showed them how God had dealt with me, and how he would deal with all them that put their trust in him; and this they called preaching. And, since that, it hath been reported that I have baptized children, and married folks, the which I never did; for I was never minister. Wherefore if I had so done, I had done contrary to the order of the apostles, as God forbid I should.” Chichester: — “ I am well apaid , a179 if you be faultless in those things; for I have heard say the contrary.” Woodman: — “I have showed you the truth, and that no man living shall be able to prove the contrary.” Chichester: — “You said, you do not disallow the true catholic church?” Woodman: — “No, that I do not.” Chichester: — “Why do you not then go to the church? You come not there, it is informed me.” Woodman: — “I trust I am in the true church every day. But to tell you the truth, I come not at the church where the most do resort: for if I should, I should offend, and be offended. For at the last time that I was there, I offended many, and was offended myself. Wherefore, for conscience’ sake, I would not come there. For I was sent to prison for my coming there, and now I am sent to you for biding thence. So they will not be pleased any way with me, for they seek my life. Wherefore look you to it, for I am now in your hands, and you ought to be a house of defense against mine enemies. For if you suffer them to kill me, my blood shall be required at your hands. If you can find any just cause in me worthy of death by God’s word, you may condemn me yourself, and not offend God. Wherefore look to it; the matter is weighty; deliver me :not into their hands, and think so to be discharged.” Chichester: — “I tell you truth, I can do little in the matter; for I have not full authority as yet of mine office; but I will send for you and talk with you, if I wist I :should do you any good.” Woodman: — “I would be glad to talk with you, and to show you my mind in any thing that you shall demand of me, now or at any other time.”

    So then he desired the sheriff’s men to tarry dinner with him; “that this man,” said he, “may dine with me also: for it is possible that he may have no great store of meat whither he shall go.”

    So we tarried dinner with him, and had no further talk, neither how to prove where the true church of God is, nor of the sacraments, nor of any other thing pertaining to me-ward, not for the space of two hours or more: but he entered in talk with me, how I understood many scriptures; and for bishops’ and priests’ marriages; and whether Paul had a wife or not. To whom I answered, “It is a thing that I have little to do with, as concerning marriages; but I am very well content to talk with you in the matter, as far as my poor learning will serve.” So when he had talked with me of divers scriptures, he liked my talk well. He asked me how I said by St. Paul, whether he were married or not? To whom I answered, “I can prove by the Scriptures that he was never married.” Chichester: — “How prove you that?” Woodman: — “I will prove it well enough, by God’s help. But yet I will prove that Paul might have had a wife, as well as the other apostles had.” Chichester: — “Why, had the * other * apostles a180 wives?” Woodman: — “Yes, all, saving Paul and Barnabas, as I understand it.

    For these are Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 9: ‘Am I not an apostle?

    Am I not free? have I not seen Jesus Christ? are not ye my work in the Lord? And if I be not an apostle to others, yet to you I am an apostle: for you are the seal of my apostleship :in the Lord. Mine answer to them that ask me, is this: ‘Have we not power to eat and to drink? either have we not power to lead about a sister to wife, as well as the other apostles have, and as the brethren of the Lord? Either have not Barnabas and I power thus to do?’ So this text proveth that Paul and Barnabas were unmarried. But Paul declareth that the rest had wives, and that they had power likewise so to have, but they found no need thereof. But Paul declareth in 1 Corinthians 7, that he that hath no power over his own flesh, may marry: ‘for it is better to marry than to burn. Wherefore to avoid,’ saith he, ‘let every man have his wife.’ He saith, ‘Let every man have his wife, and every woman her husband.’

    By this place of Scripture I understand, that bishops and priests may have wives, because they are men; rather than burn, or commit fornication. But I think verily, he that can abstain, having power of his own will, doth best; but if he marry, he sinneth not.”

    So then he debated the Scriptures with me divers ways, that a bishop or a priest ought not to have a wife. But I proved by divers scriptures, both in the old law (Genesis 2.) and in the new, that women were at first made for the help of men, the which was spoken generally to all men. “Wherefore,” said I, “every man may have a woman, and sin not, in honest matrimony; as well bishops and deacons, as other men, which you call priests, if they be true ministers of Jesus Christ, and of that order that bishops and deacons were, in Paul’s time. For Paul declareth to Timothy, Timothy 3., ‘that a bishop should be the husband of one wife,’ and how they should be honestly appareled, and how they should bring up their children; and likewise the deacons. “This,” said I, “proveth most plainly, that both bishops and deacons had wives in the apostles’ time;” the which he could not deny. But then he alleged, that no bishop nor priest might take a wife, after he had taken upon him that office, but if he had a wife before he took the office, tried meet for the purpose, for his life and for his learning he might keep his wife, and bring up his children according to St. Paul’s meaning to Timothy; or else might they have no wives.

    Then said I, “I think Paul’s meaning in that place was, that a man that hath had two wives, might not be made a bishop nor a deacon, if he had never so much learning. But that place maketh not that a bishop or a deacon may not marry after they be made bishops and deacons: for I am sure that Paul was in the state of a bishop, when he said, ‘He had power to lead about a sister to wife, as well as the other apostles had.’ Here Paul declareth that it was in his power to have a wife, after he had the office of a bishop; which was not in his power, if he had been forbidden of God. Thus have I showed you my mind in this behalf, both of Paul, and also for the marriages of bishops and priests, as I understand the Scriptures. Howbeit, it is a thing the which I have little to do withal; but as you required me to say my mind in that matter, so I have done.” Chichester: — “Marry, I am glad that you have said as you have done. Many do affirm boldly, that Paul trod a wife, and yet cannot prove whether he had or had not, by the Scriptures; but you have said very well. I am glad that ye are contented to be ruled by God’s word; and if you will be contented likewise in other matters, no doubt you shall do well: therefore, gentle goodman Woodman, be ruled. God hath given you a good wit. I protest before God, I would you should do as well as mine own soul and my body, and so would (I dare say) all the worshipful men in the country, as they have reported to me.” Woodman: — “Why, my lord, I take God to record (whom I trust to serve) ; that I would be as glad to live in rest and peace, as any man in all the world, if I might. And [stand to learn, and am contented to be reformed of any thing that I hold, if it can be proved that it be not agreeable to God’s word. And the truth is so, I have talked with a dozen priests at the least, since I was , delivered out of prison, of certain matters, and they have not been able to certify me in any thing that I have asked them: and therefore they have complained on me to the sheriff and justices; making tales and lies on me, to turn me to displeasure, as much as in them lieth. I promise you, there be as many unlearned priests in your diocese, as in any one diocese in England, I think; the more it is to be lamented.” Chichester: — “I promise you, I do much lament it myself: for I hear say no less but it is true, that you say. I would I could remedy it, but! cannot; but I will do the best that I can, when I come into the country, and I will be glad to talk with you some other time, when I am somewhat better at ease. You see, I am very tender now, as I have been this half year and more. Come to dinner; our dinner is ready. I caused you not to tarry for any great cheer that you shall have, nor would I you should think that I go about to win you with my meat: but you be welcome with all my heart. Come, sit down.”

    I thanked him, and went to dinner; and there dined with him a merchantman, one of the sheriff’s men, and I, and no more; and we had good cheer, God be praised there-for. We had no talk of the Scriptures all the dinner while; but, when dinner was done, the bishop said, “Now call master Story’s man. For the commissioners have committed you to prison; but I will send for you or ever it be long; and I pray God I may do you good. I would be very glad of it.” Woodman: — “If it please you to send for me, I would be very glad to talk with you, for I like your talk well. And then if it please your lordship to examine me upon any particular matter, I will show you my mind therein, by God’s grace, without dissimulation. But I pray you, let me have nothing to do with master Story, for he is a man without reason, methinketh.” Chichester: — “Well, or ever you go, how say you to the seven sacraments? Let me hear what you say to them, that I may be the willinger to send for you again.” Woodman: — “I know not seven sacraments.” Chichester: — “Then what shall I talk with you? How many do you know?” Woodman: — “I know but two; one the sacrament of baptism, and the other the supper of the Lord. But if you can justly prove by God’s word, that there be more than two, I stand to be reformed.” Chichester: — “If I prove not seven by God’s word, then believe me not.” And so he bade me farewell.

    Then the sheriff’s two men, and one of Dr. Story’s men, carried me to Dr. Cooke’s house, which Dr. Cooke commanded them to carry me to the sheriffs prison in Southwark, saying, “He shall be called before us again shortly, and all his fellows; and we shall despatch them from troubling the country any more.”

    And so I was brought to the Marshalsea, where I now am merry (God be praised therefor), looking for judgment of my flesh’, for they intend to despatch me shortly, if God will give them leave; but God hath their hearts in his hands, and they can do nothing to me, but as God will give them leave. Wherefore I commit my cause to God only, and I am sure there shall not one hair of my head perish without my heavenly Father’s will, (Matthew 10.) although I bide never so much trouble. Job perished not for all his trouble, although God gave the devil leave to trouble and try him divers and many ways, as God hath suffered his members to trouble and try me divers and many ways, I praise God. They shall as little prevail against my faith. (I have no mistrust) as the devil prevailed against Job, whatsoever they do with my goods, life, or body. For he that kept Job in all his trouble, neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, (Psalm 121.) but keepeth me, and all his elect; that whether we live or die, it shall be to the praise and glory of God. For if we live, we live at the Lord’s will, and if we die, we die to the Lord’s will: so, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s, (Romans 14.) blessed be his name there-for.

    Wherefore, dear brethren and sisters, to whom this my writing shall come, be of good cheer, and fear not what man can do unto you; for they can but kill the body: but fear him that hath power to kill both body and soul. And: yet once again I bid you be of good cheer; for the sheriff, with divers other gentlemen and priests, whilst I was at the sheriff’s house, said to me, that all the heretics in the country hung on me, as the people did in times past upon St. Augustine or St. Ambrose, or such like. Wherefore said they, “Look well on it; you have a great thing to answer for.” To the which I answered; “I pray God lay nothing more to my charge, than he will do for heresy;” as I am sure he will not. For he hath set my sins as far from me, as it is from the east to the west (Psalm 103.) so that I am sure they shall never come near to me any more. Yea, and that they call heresy, we serve God withal. And I am sure there is no man nor woman that hangeth on me, but on God. But yet that is their imaginations and thoughts, that if they might win me to them, they should win a great many likewise; and thinking to kill me, if they cannot win me, as I trust in God, and am sure they never shall, by God’s grace, if it were possible for them to kill me ten times. For I am so linked to Christ in a chain by faith, that it is impossible for men to loose us asunder, neither for life nor death, I praise my Lord God there-for. And no doubt their full intent and purpose is to kill me, thinking thereby to make others afraid; which death of my body were best of all for me, if God were so pleased.

    But if I may live for the comfort of others, his name be praised there-for. I know what he can do; but what he will do, I know not.

    But if death be offered me, so that I cannot refuse it without displeasing of God, I trust in God I shall not offend my brethren in receiving of death, but shall be rather an occasion of the strengthening of their faith, by choosing and receiving of it, and that with joy. For as Christ hath given his life for us, so ought we to give our lives for the defense of the gospel, and comfort of our brethren. And whereas the bishop saith, he will prove seven sacraments, be you out of doubt he shall never be able to do it, no more than he hath proved other arguments with me already.

    Thus fare ye well, from the Marshalsea, where I now am, as a sheep appointed to be slain, God be praised there-for.

    THE SECOND EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN, Before the Bishop of Chichester, and two of his Chaplains; and Dr. Story at the last came to us, the 27th day of April.

    First, I was sent for to the Marshalsea by Dr. Story, and was carried to his house besides St. Nicholas Shambles; and when I had spoken to him, he sent me to the bishop of Chichester, and said he would come to him himself straightway. And when we were in the bishop’s hall, we had not tarried long but the bishop sent for me: and when I came before him, I did my duty to him as much as I could.

    Then said the bishop, “You be welcome: how do you now?” Woodman: — “Well, I praise God, thanking your lordship for the gentle talk that you had with me at my last departing from you.” Chichester: — “Well goodman Woodman, I have sent for you of love and good will that I bear to you, to talk with you; and I would have you tell me your mind in few words. For indeed the last time that I talked with you, our talk was so long, that I fell into a great drieth thereby, and have been the worse in my body ever since. Wherefore I pray you show me your mind briefly in those particular matters that I shall demand of you, according to your promise that you made when you were with me the last time. How say you, will you?” Woodman: — “Yea forsooth; I will answer to any thing that you shall demand of me (by God’s help) as well as I can.” Chichester: — “How say you by the seven sacraments? for there we left off, and there we will begin again. You said then there were but two. How say you now to it? will you deny all saving two?” Woodman: — “I say now, as I said then. You said, there be seven sacraments; and I said, I knew but two; but if you could approve seven by God’s word, when I came before you again, I must needs grant them. And you said, if you could not prove them by God’s word, I should not believe them. And now I am come to see how well you can prove them.” Herewith he was moved and all his chaplains. Chichester: — “By God and my troth, I ween he thinketh I cannot prove them. How say you to the sacrament of matrimony?” Woodman: — “Why, my lord, St. Paul saith to Timothy, a bishop should be faultless, and you use much swearing, which is a great fault in a bishop of all others, that should be an example to the flock.” Then he and his prelates were in a great rage with me, because I reproved him for his swearing. Chichester: — “What! I perceive this man is worse than he was the last day: what! he taketh upon him to teach me to speak, as though I could not tell what I had to do?” Priest: — “So methinketh, my lord; he is a stout fellow indeed, as we have seen.” Woodman: — “Yea, I am stout, because I do that I am commanded. I dare not for my life hold my peace: for I should bear your sin, the which I will not do for any of you all, I tell you plainly.” Chichester: — “Where find you, that you are commanded to reprove me.” Woodman: — “‘If thou see thy brother sin, reprove him: if he repent, thou hast won thy brother.’ But you repent it not, methinketh, but rather go about to maintain the same. Christ saith, ‘He that breaketh one of the least of my commandments, and teacheth men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven;’ and you go about to teach men so, so far as I see.” Priest: — “Why, my lord, this man is past cure. I see no hope in him.” Chichester: — “No, so methinketh. I will never talk with him more.

    Go call master Story: let him do with him what he will. He hath been with his fellows in the Marshalsea, and now he is worse than he was before. I had some hope in him the other day; but now I see none.” Woodman: — “No, I praise God, my faith hangeth upon no men, but upon God.” Priest: — “Nay, my lord, I think he is not the worse for them; but I fear me they be the worse for him. I know this man of old, before mine old lord.” Woodman: — “Well, my lord, look well to it: will you deliver me to other men to shed my blood, and so think to wash your hands of me, as Pilate did by Christ? Nay, you cannot be so discharged.” Chichester: — “I have nothing to do with you; but of my gentleness I have sent for you, because you said, you would declare your mind in any particular matter I would demand of you.” Woodman: — “Why, I do not deny but I will do so, if you do demand it of me. But you go about to deliver me to others to kill me; and I know that there is none that hath to do with me but you.” Chichester: — “I am not consecrated yet: wherefore my lord cardinal may examine you, and condemn you, or my lord of London: for you are now in his diocese.” Woodman: — “Yea, my lord, is the matter even so? Then I perceive whereabout you go. Nay, I will talk no more with you then, if you be at that point. Ask me what you will, but I will show you nothing of my mind. I promise you I will not answer in particular matters, and so you to accuse me to others, and they to kill me.” Chichester: — “I go not about to kill you, but would be glad to hear your mind in the sacraments; and if you understand them not aright, I would be glad with all my heart to show you my mind, how I understand them. For I would you should do as well as mine own self.” Woodman: — “If you would talk with me to do me good, I would be content to hear you, and show you my mind; otherwise I would be loth.” Chichester: — “Nay, I will promise you, if I can do you no good, I will do you no harm; for if I meant to do you harm, I could lay your own handwriting against you; but I will not: wherefore be in no doubt of me. How say you to the sacrament of matrimony? is it a sacrament or no? How think you by it?” Woodman: — “I think it is a holy institution, ordained of God in paradise, and so to continue to the world’s end.” Chichester: — “Lo, now you shall see how you be deceived in that, as you be in all the rest. Come hither. You can read Latin, I am sure.” Woodman: — “Yea, I can read Latin, but I understand very little.” Chichester: — “Come to me; you shall see that Paul calleth it a holy sacrament: for these be the words, ‘For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and shall be joined to his wife; and two shall be made one flesh. This is a great sacrament.’” (Ephesians 5.) Woodman: — “I remember such a saying, but St. Paul calleth it not a sacrament; but he saith, ‘It is a great mystery.’” Chichester: — “Where saith he so?” Woodman: — “I am not sure in what text it is, but I am sure these be St. Paul’s words; and that he calleth it not a sacrament in all his writings.” Chichester: — “What! the last day ye were full of Scriptures; ‘here it is written,’ and ‘there it is written.’ What! we can rehearse the Scriptures as well as you. Wherefore, if we be sure it is written, it is no great matter for the place. Come hither; I will show you the place, I think, that you mean.”

    I looked, and it was written “Sacramentum:” a181 “I know,” said I, “it is ‘a great mystery,’ in the English translation.” f325 Chichester: — “I permit it to be ‘a mystery.’ What is a mystery?” Woodman: — “A mystery is (I take it) unseen; for he saith, he speaketh betwixt Christ and the congregation. So the great mystery that he speaketh of, I take to be the faith of them that be married, which is hid in Christ; the which we see not, but Christ. But the deed which is in the congregation, which is the outward marriage, we see; but the inward marriage of the heart we see not. Wherefore Paul calleth it a mystery. And therefore if it be a sacrament, it is invisible to us: it is not seen, as other sacraments be.” Chichester: — “Nay, I tell you it is a visible sacrament, seen as the others be: for is not the marriage seen? is not the man and woman seen?” Woodman: — “My lord, I pray you, what is a sacrament?” Chichester: — “It is the sign of a holy thing.” Woodman: — “Methinks you have certified me very well. There need not be a sign of a holy thing, where the holy thing is, itself.” Then his chaplains would have interrupted me, but I desired my lord I might say out my mind in the matter. So, with much ado, he bade me say what I could. “There need not to be a sign of a thing, where the thing is itself.

    Matrimony is a holy thing itself, and is ended outwardly, and such need no more signs but themselves: wherefore it cannot be a sacrament, as others be.” f326 Chichester: — “Lo, how much you speak against yourself. And for an example, I come by a hosier, and there hangeth a pair of hose, the which be hose, and be a sign of hose that be to sell within.” f327 Priest: — “How say you to this? Now my lord hath hit you home indeed.” Woodman: — “He hath bit me perilously, I tell you, with sophistry, to blind mine eyes withal. I marvel you be not all ashamed of it. I can answer that to all your shames, if I might be justly heard, I tell you plainly.” Priest: — “What, you be angry methinks.” Woodman: — “I am not angry; but I am earnest, I tell you, to see your blindness and folly. I talked of the scriptures that be written, and it is God’s word, to prove my matter true by; and you will prove your matter true by a pair of hose. And as well can you prove it by that, as by God’s word?” Priest: — “Why, is there nothing true, but that is written in the Bible?” Woodman: — “St. Paul saith to the Galatians, (Galatians 1.) ‘If an angel come from heaven, and preach any other doctrine than may be proved by God’s word, hold him accursed:’ and so do I, I tell you plainly.” Priest: — “Here is a Testament in my hand: if I hurl him in the fire and burn him, have I burned God’s word, or not? I will buy a new one for sixteen-pence.” Woodman: — “I say, you have burned God’s word, and I believe, he that will burn a Testament willingly, would burn God himself, if he were here, if he could: for he and his word are all one.”

    Then they made a great laughing at it. Woodman: — “Laugh on,” quoth I. “Your laughing will be turned to weeping, and all such joy will be turned to mourning, if you repent it not with speed.” Then the bishop began to cloak the priest’s folly, saying, “Why, if my counting-house were full of books, and if my house should be on fire by chance, and be so burned, were God’s word burned?” Woodman: — “No, my lord, because they were burned against your will; but yet if you should burn them willingly, or think it well, and not be sorry for it, you burn God’s word, as well as he. For he that is not sorry for a shrewd turn, doth allow it to be good.” Chichester: — “Follow your vocation; you have a little learning. ‘ We have an altar, whereof you may not eat.’ (Hebrews 13.) What meaneth St. Paul thereby?” a182 Woodman: — “There is no .man so foolish to eat stones, I trow.” Chichester: — “What mockers and scorners be you, to say no man will be so foolish to eat stones! it is a plain mock.” Woodman: — “Why, my lord, you said I had no learning, nor knowledge, nor understanding. Wherefore it becometh you to make things more plain to me, and not to ask me such dark questions, and yet blame me too; methinks it is too much.” Chichester: — “I dare say, you know what it meaneth well enough.

    The most fool in my house will understand my meaning better than you do.”

    There stood some of his men not far off, talking together beside a window. He called one of them by his name. Chichester: — “Come hither. I say to thee, thou shalt not eat of this table. What do I mean thereby?” The Man: — “Forsooth, my lord, you would not have me eat of this table;” laying his hand thereupon.

    With this answer he made all them in the house to fall on laughing; and I could not hold it in, but hurst out with laughter, and said, “He hath expounded the matter almost as well as I.” Chichester: — “He meaneth well enough, if you would understand him. — Answer me again, to make it more plain. I say to thee, Thou shalt not eat of this table. What mean I thereby?” The Man: — “Forsooth you would not have me eat this table.”

    These words made them all laugh: wherewith the bishop was almost angry, because the answer proved no better, and said, “He meaneth that I would not have him eat any of the meat that is set upon this table. How sayest thou? dost thou not mean so?” The Man: — “Yes forsooth, my lord, that was my meaning indeed.” Woodman: — “Yea, my lord, now you have told him what you mean, he can say so too; and so could I have done (as little wit as I have), if you had said, Paul meant that no man might eat of that which was offered upon the altar, but the priests.” Chichester: — “Yea, I perceive you understand the meaning of Paul well enough, but that you list to cavil with me.” Woodman: — “Why my lord, do you think I understand such dark places of the Scripture, without learning? You said even now, I had no knowledge nor learning; wherefore I answered you, as you judged of me.” Chichester: — “Well, let this matter pass, and let us turn to the principal again. How say you by the sacrament of the altar?” Woodman: — “You mean the sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus Christ.” Chichester: — “I mean the sacrament of the altar, and so I say.” Woodman: — “You mean Christ to be the altar, do you not?” Chichester: — “I mean the sacrament of the altar in the church.

    What! is it so strange to you?” Woodman: — “It is strange to me indeed, if you mean the altar of stone.” Chichester: “It is that altar that I mean.” Woodman: — “I understand not the altar so.” Chichester: — “No, I think so indeed; and that is the cause that you be deceived. I pray you, how do you understand the altar then?” Woodman: — “If you will give me leave till I have done, I will show you how I understand the altar, and where it is.” Chichester: — “Yes, you shall have leave to say your mind, as much as you will.” Woodman: — “It is written in Matthew 18: “That wheresoever two or three be gathered together in Christ’s name, there is he in the midst among them: and whatsoever they ask the Father upon earth, it shall be granted them in heaven.’ Agreeing to the fifth of Matthew, saying, ‘When thou comest to offer thy gift at the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy offering, and go first and be reconciled to thy brother, and then offer thy gift.’” The priests would have interrupted me, but the bishop ]bade them let me alone. Chichester: — “You shall hear a pretty conclusion anon.” Woodman: — “I pray you let me make an end, and then find fault with me, if you can. Now to the matter. In these two places of Scripture, I prove that Christ is the true altar, whereon every christian man and woman ought to come and offer their gifts. First, wheresoever the people are gathered together in. Christ’s name, there is he in the midst; and where he is, there is the altar: so that we may be bold to come and offer our gift, if we be in love and charity. If we be not, we must leave there our offering, and go first and be reconciled to our brother, and agree with him quickly, and so forth; and then come and offer the gift. Some will say, How shall I agree with my adversary, when he is not nigh by a hundred miles? may I not pray till I have spoken with him? To all such I answered, If thou presume to pray among the faithful, wishing any evil to any man, woman, or child, thou askest vengeance upon thyself; for no such asketh any thing else of the Lord in his prayer. Wherefore agree with thy adversary, that is, make thy life agreeable to God’s word. Say in thy heart without dissimulation, that thou askest God and all the world forgiveness from the bottom of thy heart, intending never to offend them any more.

    Then all such may be bold to come and offer their gift, their prayer on the altar, where the people of God be gathered together. Thus have! showed you my mind, both of the altar, and of the offering, as I understand it.” Chichester: — “Do you understand the offering and the altar so?

    I never heard any man understand it so; no not Luther the great heretic, that was condemned by a general council, and his picture burned.” Woodman: — “If he were a heretic, I think he understood it not so indeed; but I am sure all Christians ought to understand it so.” Chichester: — “Oh! what vain glory is in you, as though you understood all things, and other men nothing. Hear me: I will show you the true understanding, both of the altar, and the offering on the altar. ‘We have an altar,’ said Paul, ‘that ye may not eat of:’ (Hebrews 13.) meaning thereby, that no man might eat of that which was offered on the altar, but the priest. For in Paul’s time, all the living that the priest had, the people came and offered it on the altar, money, or other things: and when the people came to offer it, and then remembered that they had any thing against their brother, then they left their offering upon the altar, and went and were reconciled to their brother; and. they came again and offered their gift, and the priest had it. This is the true understanding of the place that you have rehearsed: wherefore you be deceived.” Woodman: — “My lord, that was the use in the old law. Christ was the end of that. But indeed I perceive by Paul’s words, the sacrifice was offered in Paul’s time; yet that maketh not that it was well done, but he rebuked it. Wherefore it seemeth to me, that you be deceived.” Chichester: — “Who shall be judges betwixt us in this matter?” Woodman: — “The twelfth of John declareth who shall be judge in the last day.” Chichester: — “You mean the word shall judge the word. How can that be?” Woodman: — “St. Peter saith, ‘The scripture hath no private interpretation:’ but one scripture must be understood by another.” Chichester: — “You will understand it one way, and I will understand it another way; and who shall be judges betwixt us then?” Woodman: — “The true church of God is able to discuss all doubts; to whom I refer it.” Chichester: — “I am glad you say so, if you will say so indeed.” Woodman: — “My lord, I never meant otherwise.” Chichester: — “The church of God doth allow the sacrament of the altar.” Woodman: — “What do you offer now upon the altar?” Chichester: — “We offer up, in the blessed sacrament of the altar, the body of Christ, to pacify the wrath of God the Father;” and therewith they all put off their caps to the abominable idol. Woodman: — “St. Paul saith to the Hebrews, ‘We are sanctified by offering of the body of Jesus Christ upon the cross once for all:’ (Hebrews 10.) and every priest is daily ministering, and oftentimes offereth one manner of offering, which can never take away sins;’ and that is the offering that you use to offer. As far as I can see, you be priests after the order of Aaron, that offered up sacrifice for their own sins, and the sins of the people.” Chichester: — “Nay, Aaron’s sacrifice was with blood, which signifieth the death of Christ, the which was ended upon the cross by his bloodshedding: but we are priests after the order of Melchizedech, the which offereth bread to the king in remembrance, and signifieth the giving of Christ’s body in bread and wine at the last Supper, the which he gave to his disciples, and commanded it to be used to the end of the world. This is the sacrifice that we offer, according to his word.” Woodman: — “Methinketh you have made the matter very plain to me, that as Christ was the end of all sacrifices, so was he the beginning of the sacraments, willing them to be used in the remembrance of him, to the world’s end.” Chichester: — “What, in remembrance of him, and not himself, as his word saith, ‘Take, eat, this is my body!’ It is not the sign only, but the thing itself. How say you? Is it not his body, after the words be spoken by the priest? How say you? Go briefly to work, for I cannot long tarry with you.” f330 Woodman: — “My lord, if you will answer me to one sacrament, I will answer you to another.” Chichester: — “Yes, I am very well contented with that.” Woodman: — “If you say the words of baptism over the water, and there be no child there, is there true baptism?” Chichester: — “No, there must be the water, the word, and the child; and then it is baptism.” Woodman: — “Very well. Then if a child be baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, it is not truly baptized.” Chichester: — “No: the child must be baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Ghost; or else it is not truly baptized.” Woodman: — “Then there may be nothing added nor taken away from the sacraments: may there?” Chichester: — “No,” said the bishop. Woodman: — “Now, my lord, I will answer to you, if it please you.” Chichester: — “Well, how say you, ‘Take, eat; this is my body:’ is it not Christ’s body, as soon as the words be said?” Woodman: — “My lord, I will answer you by your own words, that you answered me, which is true: the water, the word, and the child, all these together make baptism; the bread, wine, and the word make the sacrament; and the eater, eating in true faith, maketh it his body. Here I prove it is not Christ’s body, but to the faithful receiver: for he said, ‘Take, eat, this is my body.’ He called it not his body before eating, but after eating. And St. Augustine saith, ‘Believe, and thou hast eaten.’ And St. John saith, ‘He that believeth in God, dwelleth in God, and God in him:’ wherefore it is impossible to dwell in God, and to eat his body, without a true faith.” Priest: — “Then the faith of the receiver maketh it his body, and not his word, by your saying. I pray you what did Judas eat?” Woodman: — “Judas did eat the sacrament of Christ, and the devil withal.” Priest: — “He eat the body of Christ unworthily, as St. Paul saith.” Woodman: — “Nay, St. Paul saith no such thing. He speaketh not of eating of his body unworthily, but of the sacrament unworthily. For he saith, ‘Whosoever eateth of this bread, and drinketh of this cup unworthily, eateth and drinketh his own damnation, because he maketh no difference of the Lord’s body,’ and not because he eateth the Lord’s body. If Judas had ate Christ’s body, it must needs follow, that Judas is saved. For Christ saith in John vi., ‘Whosoever eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up again at the last day.’” Priest: — “My lord, this man is an interpreter after his own mind.” Chichester: — “I see it is but folly to talk with you: it is but lost labor. How say you? do you not believe that after the words be said, there remaineth neither bread nor wine, but the very body of Christ really? Make me a plain answer, for I will talk no more with you.” Woodman: — “I will make you a direct answer, how I believe of the true sacrament. I do believe that if I come to receive the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ truly ministered, believing that Christ was born for me, and that he suffered death for me, and that I shall be saved from my sins by his blood-shedding, and so receive the sacrament in that remembrance, then I believe I do receive wholly Christ, God and man, mystically by faith: this is my belief.” Chichester: — “Why, then it is no body without faith! God’s word is of no force, as you count it.” Woodman: — “My lord, I have told you my mind without dissimulation, and more you get not of me, without you will talk with me by the Scriptures; and if you will do so, I will begin anew with you, and prove it more plainly three or four manner of ways, that you shall not say nay, to that I have said, yourself.”

    Then they made a great laughing, and said, “This is a heretic indeed; it is time he were burned:” which words moved my spirit, and I said to them, “Judge not, lest you be judged:” for as you judge me, you shall be judged yourselves. For that you call heresy, I serve God truly with, as you all shall well know, when you shall be in hell, and have blood to drink, and shall be compelled to say for pain, ‘This was the man that we jested on, and whose talk we thought foolishness, and his end to be without honor: but now we may see how he is counted among the saints of God, and we are punished.’ These words shall you say, being in hell, if you repent not with speed, if you consent to the shedding of my blood: wherefore look to it, I give you counsel.” Priest: — “What! you be angry, methinks. Now I will say more to you than I thought to have done. You were at Bexhill a twelvemonth agone, and sent for the parson and talked with him in the churchyard, and would not go into the church; for you said, it was the idol’s temple. Yea, I was with mine old lord, when he came to the King’s Bench to you; and you said many stout words to him.” Woodman: — “That I said, I said; and whereas you said, I was angry, I take God to my record, I am not, but am zealous in the truth, and speak out of the Spirit of God, with cheerfulness.” Priest: — “The Spirit of God? hough, hough, hough! think you that you have the Spirit of God?” Woodman: — “I believe surely that I have the Spirit of God, I praise God there-for: and you be deceivers, mockers, and scorners before God, and be the children of hell, all the sort of you, as far I can see.”

    And therewith cam in Dr. Story, pointing at me with his finger, speaking to the bishop, in Latin, saying at the length, “I can say nothing to him, but he is a heretic. I have heard you talk this hour and a half, and can hear no reasonableness in him.” Woodman: — “Judge not, lest you be judged: for as you judge, you shall be judged yourself.” Story: — “What! be you a preaching? you shall preach at a stake shortly with your fellows. My lord, trouble yourself no more with him.”

    With these words, one brought word that the abbot of Westminster was come to dine with the bishop, and many other gentlemen and women. Then there was rushing away with speed to meet him.

    Then said Dr. Story to my keeper, “Carry him to the Marshalsea again, and let him keep close; and let nobody come to speak with him.” And so they departed.

    Then one of the priests began to flatter with me, and said, “For God’s sake remember yourself. God hath given you a good wit: you have read the Scriptures well, and have borne them well in memory. It were great pity you should do amiss.” Woodman: — “What a flatterer be you, to say my wit is good, and that I have read the Scriptures well; and but even now you said I was a heretic and despised me. If I be a heretic, I can have no good wit as you have confessed. But I think your own conscience doth accuse you.

    God give you grace to repent, if it be his will.” Priest: — “I call it a good wit, because you are expert in all questions.” Woodman: — “You may call it a wicked wit, if it agree not with God’s word.” Then one cried, “Away, away, here come strangers!” So we departed, and I came again to the Marshalsea, with my keeper.

    THE THIRD EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN (COPIED WITH HIS OWN HAND) Before Dr. Langdale, Parson of Buxsted, in Sussex, and Chaplain to my Lord Montague, and Master James Gage, at my Lord Montague’s House, beside St. Mary Overy’s, in Southwark, the 12th day of May.

    The 12th day of May the marshal came to the Marshalsea, and sent for me to speak with him. When I came before him, and had done my duty, he asked my name, and what countryman I was. I showed him both. Then he asked me, when I was abroad in the city. To whom I answered, “If it shall please your mastership, I was abroad in the city on Monday was sevennight.” Marshal: — “What made you abroad?” Woodman: — “The bishop of Chichester sent for me, to talk with me at home, at his house beside St. Nicholas’s Shambles.” Marshal: — “Were you abroad no otherwise than so?” Woodman: — “No forsooth; I was never abroad since I was sent hither, but then; for I have nothing to do abroad, unless they send for me.” Marshal: — “This is a marvelous matter. I promise you I was not so rebuked these seven years, as I was for you within these three days. It is reported that you were abroad in the city at certain taverns, and spake seditious words both in the taverns and streets, as you went.” Woodman: — “Sir, the truth is, I was in never a house nor tavern, whiles I was abroad, but in the bishop’s house, as my keeper can, and will (I am sure) testify: nor did I ever talk with any man in the streets as I came, but with my keeper, saving with one man, indeed, of the parish of Framfield, in Sussex, where master James Gage dwelleth. His name is Robert Smith, being one of my worst enemies; who stood in a wain as we came by, and was unlading of cheese (methought) but a little way from the Marshalsea. Indeed I bade him God speed, and asked him how he did: and he said, Well, he thanked me. And he asked me, how I did: and I said, Well, I praise God; and that was all the talk that we had. And these words were spoken as I came by him. I promise you, sir, I stood ‘not still while I spake them, as my keeper can tell: and I think these words were not seditious words, but might be spoken well enough (I think), or else it were very strait.” Marshal: — “Then is it to be thought, that that man reported otherwise than it was. I am glad it is as you say. Well, make you ready: for you must go forth straightway, where you shall be examined of that and of other things, where you shall answer for yourself. Go make haste, for I will tarry till you be ready.”

    So I departed from him, and went to my prison-fellows, and took my leave of them, desliking them to pray for me; for I thought verily to come no more to them: for I supposed I should have gone before the council, because the marshal said, he would tarry for me himself. And especially because he said, it was reported that I had spoken seditious words, it made me think it is possible that there may be some false things imagined upon me, to bring me to my end. I remember what Christ said, “The servant is not above his lord.” Seeing the Jews brought false witness against Christ, I thought they would do much more, or at the least do so to me, if God would suffer them; which made me east the worst. But I was, and am sure (I praise my Lord God), that all the world is not able to accuse me justly of any such thing. Which thing considered, made me merry and joyful; and I was surely certified, that they could do no more against me, than God would give them leave. And so I bade my prison-fellows farewell, and went into the porter’s lodge to the marshal; and he delivered me to one of his own men, and to one of my lord Montague’s men, and bade me go with them: and they carried me to my lord Montague’s place in Southwark, not far from St. Mary Overy’s; and brought me into a chamber in lord Montague’s house; and there was one Dr. Langdale, chaplain to my lord. My keepers said to the doctor, “This is the man that we went for.” Langdale: — “Is your name Woodman?” Woodman: — “Yea, forsooth, that is my name.”

    Then he began with a great circumstance, and said, “I am sorrow for you, that you will not be ruled, but stand so much in your own conceit, displeasing our father and others, judging that all the realm doth evil, save a few that do as you do:” with many such words, which be too long to rehearse, but I will declare the substance of them. Langdale: — “What think you of them that died long agone — your grandfathers, with their fathers before them? You judge them to be damned, and all others that use the same that they did throughout all Christendom, unless it be in Germany, and here in England a few years, and in Denmark; and yet they are returned again. Thus we are sure this is the truth; and I would you should do well. Your father is an honest man, and one of my parish, and hath wept to me, divers times, because you would not be ruled; and he loveth you well, and so doth all the country, both rich and poor, if it were not for those evil opinions that you hold;” with many such like tales of Robin Hood. f332 Woodman: I pray you give me leave to speak a few words to you.” Langdale: — “Yes, say your mind.” Woodman: — “You have told a great tale, and a long, as it were against me (as you think), saying, I hold this and that; I judge my father and my grand- father, and almost all the world, without it be a few that be of our sect. But I judge no man. But the twelfth of John declareth who it is that judgeth, and shall judge in the last day. The father shall not bear the son’s offences, nor the son the father’s offences: but ‘ that soul that sinneth shall die,’ as saith the prophet.

    And again, we may not follow a multitude to do evil, as saith the prophet; for the most go the wrong way. And Christ saith in Luke 12., that his flock is a little flock. Here be places enow to discharge me, although I do not as the most do? But can any man say that do not as I ought to do? Where be my accusers?” Langdale: — “What! you be full of scripture methinks, and call for your accusers, as though you were afraid to utter your mind to me. But I would have you not be afraid to talk with me. For I mean no more hurt to you, than I do to myself, I take God to be my record.” Woodman: — “I cannot tell: it is hard trusting of fair words. When a man cannot trust his father nor brother, nor others that have been his familiar friends, but they deceive him: a man may lawfully follow the example of Christ towards them that he never saw before, saying, ‘Be as wise as serpents, and as innocent as doves:’ ‘Beware of men, for they go about to betray you.’ And it maketh me to suspect you much, because you blame me for answering with the Scriptures. It maketh me to doubt that you would take vantage of me, if I should speak mine own words. Wherefore I will take as good heed as I can, because I have been deceived already by them I trusted most. Wherefore blame me not, though I answer circumspectly. It shall not be said, by God’s help, that I will run willfully into mine enemies’ hands; and yet I praise God, my life is not dear to myself, but it is dear with God: wherefore I will do the uttermost that I can to keep it.” Langdale: — “You be afraid where no fear is; for I was desired of master sheriff and his brother, and of other of your friends, to talk with you; and they told me, that you were desirous to talk with me. And now ye make the matter as though you had nothing to do with me, and as though you were sent to prison for nothing: for you call for your accusers, as though there were no man to accuse you. But if there were no man to accuse you, your own hand-writing did accuse you enough, that you set upon the church-door (if you be remembered), and other letters that you let fall abroad, some at one place and some at another.

    Wherefore you need not to call for your accusers. Your own hand will accuse you enough, I warrant you; it is kept safe enough. I would not for two hundred pounds there were so much against me.” Woodman: — “I will not deny mine own hand, by God’s help; for it cannot be lightly counterfeited. I do not deny but I wrote a letter to the priest and others of the parish, declaring to them their folly and presumption to come into my house without my love or leave, and fet out my child and use it at their pleasures; which moved me to write my mind to them: and because I could not tell how to convey it to them, I set it on the church-door. Which letter my lord of Chichester hath, for he showed it me when I was before him: wherein is contained nothing but the very Scriptures, to their reproach. Let it be laid before me when you or he will, I will answer to it by the help of God, to all their shames that I wrote it to. And as for any other letters, I wrote none, as you said I did; neither had I wrote that, if they had done like honest neighbors. Wherefore if they be offended with me for that, I will answer them with Christ’s words, in Matthew 18. ‘Woe unto themselves,’ because they gave me the occasion. “And whereas you said, I was desirous to speak with you; and that master sheriff and his brother, and other of my friends, willed me to talk with you; and that I fare now as though I had nothing to do with you, and as though I were sent to prison for nothing; the truth is, I know no more wherefore I am sent to prison, than the least child in this town knoweth. And as for me, I desired not master sheriff to speak with you; but indeed he desired me that I would speak with you, and utter my faith to you. For he supposed that I did not believe well, and he reported you to be learned. But I refused to talk with you at the first; for I remembered not that you were the parson at Buxted: wherefore I said to him, I would not utter my faith to any but the bishop. I said, ‘He is mine ordinary: wherefore I appeal unto him. I am commanded by St. Peter, (1 Peter 3.) to render account of my hope that I have in God, to him that hath authority: wherefore I will talk with none in that matter, but with him. Wherefore send me to him, if you will; or else there shall no man know my faith, I tell you plainly.’ These words then made the sheriff angry, and he went his way. And when he was gone from me, I remembered that it was you, that he would have me to talk with. And then I remembered that I had made a promise to my father, and goodman Day of Uckfield, not past a fortnight before I was taken, that whensoever you came into the country, I would speak with you by God’s help, because they praised you so much, that ye were learned, and they would fain hear us talk. “So all these things called to remembrance, I desired my keeper, which was the sheriff’s man, to show his master, that I would fain speak with him; for I had remembered things that were not in my mind before, when I spake to him. So he went to his master, and showed him the matter; and he came to me. And then told him my mind, and what promise I had made: and he said, he would send for you on the morrow, as he did. And the messenger brought word, you could not come; you preached before the queen, he said.

    Whereupon the sheriff came up himself, and spake to the bishop that he should come down, but he was sick. So when he came home again, he sent me to the bishop, and I have talked with him twice already; and I am sure he can find no fault in me, if he say justly; and yet I know not wherefore I was sent to prison. For I was not guilty of that which was laid to my charge, that I had baptized children, the which I never did, as God knoweth: wherefore I have wrong to be thus handled.” Dr. Langdale: — “Indeed it hath been reported, that you have christened children; and that you christened your own child. But since, I heard say, you would not have the child christened; which is a damnable way, if you deny baptism. And they said your child was not christened in a fortnight or three weeks after it was born, and the chiefest of the parish were fain to fetch it out of your house against your will. Wherefore you wrote railing words against the priest and them for their good will; the which declareth that you allow not baptizing of children. And if the child had died, it had been damned, because it was not christened; and you should have been damned, because you were the let thereof.” Woodman: — “What abominable lies have you told! Be you not ashamed to speak such words as you have done? First you say, I christened mine own child; and by and by you said, I denied baptizing of children, and that my child was a fortnight or three weeks old or it was baptized. What abominable lies be these! I neither baptized my child myself, neither held against the baptizing of it, but did most gladly allow it; for it was baptized as soon as it was born, and I was glad thereof. Therefore you be to blame to report so of me.” Langdale: — “I pray you, who baptized it? some unthrift of your providing?” Woodman: — “Nay surely, the midwife baptized it.” Langdale: — “But it was your mind, that it should be so.” Woodman: — “Nay sure, I was not nigh home by almost twenty miles, nor heard that my wife was brought to bed four days after the child was christened, For it was not like to live; and therefore the midwife baptized it.” Langdale: — “Would you have had it to church to have been christened, if it had not been christened?” f336 Woodman: — “That is no matter, what I would have done. I am sure you cannot deny but it is sufficiently done, if the midwife do it; and I hold not against the doing of it, neither did I it myself, as you said I did.” Langdale: — “Wherefore were you displeased with them that fet it to church?” Woodman: — “First tell me whether the child were not truly baptized by the midwife?” Langdale: — “Yes it was truly baptized, if she baptized it in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Woodman: — “Yes, that I am sure she did; and you grant that was sufficient. And the cause that I blamed them for, was because they did more to it than need was, by your own saying. Yea, they fet it out of my house without my leave: the which was not well done.” Langdale: — “They had it to church, to confirm that was done.” Woodman: — “Yea, but that was more than needs. But God forgive them, if it be his will. But let that matter pass. But I would you should not say, that I hold against baptizing of children: for I do not, I take God to record; but do allow it to be most necessary, if it be truly used.

    But methought you spake words even now, that were uncomely to be spoken: if a child die, and be not baptized, it is damned. How think you? be all damned that receive not the outward sign of baptism?” Langdale: — “Yea, that they be.” Woodman: — “How prove you that?” Langdale: - “Go, saith Christ, and baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: and he that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved; and he that believeth not, shall be damned.

    These be the words of Christ, which are my warrant.” Woodman: — “Then by your saying, baptism bringeth faith, and all that be baptized in the water shall be saved, shall they? how say you?” Langdale: — “Yea, that they shall: if they die before they come to discretion, they shall be saved every one of them: and all that be not baptized, shall be damned, every one of them.”

    Then my spirit was moved with him to reprove him sharply, because I had manifest scriptures fresh in my mind against his saying. Then said I, “O Lord God! how dare you speak such blasphemy against God and his word, as you do? How dare you for your life take upon you to preach, and teach the people, and understand not what you say? For I protest before God, you understand not the Scriptures, but as far as natural reason can comprehend. For if you did, you would be ashamed to speak as you do.” Langdale: — “Wherein have I spoken amiss? Take heed, you have a toy in your head will make you despair I dare say you cannot tell what you say. Wherefore reprove you me as you do?” Woodman: — “Because you blaspheme God: and as for despairing, take heed to yourself, for 1 cannot see but you be out of your wit already; and as for me, I praise God, I can tell what I say, and what you have said: the which shall turn to your shame, if you will talk the Scriptures with me.”

    So when he perceived that I spake earnestly, and challenged him to talk by the word, his color began to change, and his flesh began to tremble and quake And I said, “Prove your sayings true, if you can: for I will prove them false, by God’s help. You said, ‘All children, or others, that be not baptized with water, shall be damned.’ I dare not say so for all the good in the world. And you brought in the saying of Christ for your warrant. In Mark 16. it is written, ‘Whoso believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved;’ which words be very true: ‘and whoso believeth not, shall be damned,’ which words be very true also. He saith, ‘He that believeth not, shall be damned.’ Yea, St. John saith ‘He that believeth not, is condemned already, because he believeth not.’ But neither of these two scriptures, nor any other scripture in all the New Testament, saith that he that is not baptized, shall be damned, or is damned already.

    But ‘if he believe not, he shall be damned, and is damned already,’ as is aforesaid.”

    Then he would have interrupted me, and would have laid to my charge, that I was an anabaptist. But I would give him no place to speak, but said, “Let me make an end, and then say what you can.

    You shall have as much to do, by God’s help, with this matter, as ever you had to answer thing in your life. You know (1 am sure), it is no manners a184 to pluck a tale out of a man’s mouth; nor is it the order of reasoning, as you know that, better titan I can tell you.” Then Dr. Langdale bade me say on. Woodman: — “My saying was, that they that believe not, shall be damned, and be damned already. But I dare not say for all the goods under heaven, that all they that receive no material baptism by the water shall be damned, as you have said: yet I would you should not gather of these words, that I deny baptism, as you were about to lay to my charge, ere ever I had half told out my tale. But I would not have you, nor any man, so rash in judgment to condemn the thing that they are not able to prove by the word, and to make it seem to the simple, that the outward washing of the water were the cause of faith.” Langdale: — “Why, is it not so? will you deny it? How say you? will you deny it? I say, the child hath no faith before it is baptized; and therefore the baptizing bringeth the faith. How say you to it? make me a plain answer to this question.” Woodman: — “Now I perceive you go about nothing else, but to take vantage of my words: but, by God’s help, I will answer you so, that you shall well see your sayings untrue. And yet I will not speak mine own words, but the words of the Holy Ghost, out of the mouth of the prophets and apostles: and then ask them whether they will deny it. You said, that faith cometh by baptism, had by the use of material water. I must be so bold to ask you, whether Jacob was baptized, before he had faith. St. Paul saith in Romans 9: ‘Ere ever the children were born, ere ever they had done either good or bad, that the purpose of God, which is by election, might stand, not by the reason of works, but by the grace of the caller, the elder shall serve the younger: Jacob have I loved, and Esau have I hated.’ How think you, Had this child faith or ever he were born, or no? answer to this, if you can!” Langdale: — “What? you speak of the old law. Jacob was not christened, but circumcised. I speak of baptism, and you are gone from baptizing, to the time of circumcision: answer me to the baptizing. And methinks by your talk, you deny original sin, and free will, by the words that you brought in of St. Paul: for if children can be saved without baptism, then it must needs follow, that children have no original sin, the which is put away in the baptizing. But I think you know not what original sin is, nor free will neither, methinks, by’ your talk.’ Woodman: — “Yes, I praise God, I think, I can tell them all better than you can; methinks even by your words. First, I pray you, what free will hath man to do good of himself? Tell me this first, and then I will answer to all your other questions that you have objected against me.” Langdale: — “I say, that all men have as much free will now, as Adam had before his fall.” Woodman: — “I pray you how prove you that?” Langdale: — “Thus I prove it, that as sin entered into the world, and by the means of one that sinned, all men became sinners, the which was by Adam: so by the obedience of one man, righteousness came upon all men that had sinned, and set them as free as they were before their fall; the which was by Jesus Christ.” (Romans 5.) Woodman: - “O Lord! What an overthrow have you given yourself here in original sin, and yet cannot see it! for in proving that we have freewill, you have denied quite original sin. For here you have declared that we be set as free by the death of Christ, as Adam was before his fall, and I am sure that Adam had no original sin before his fall. If we be as free now as he was then, marvel wherefore Paul complained thrice to God, to take away the sting of it, God making him answer, and saying, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee.’ These words with divers others, prove original sin in us; but not that it shall hurt God’s elect people, but that his grace is sufficient for all his. But you say in one place, it is not without baptism; and in another place, you put it away quite, by the death of Christ; and in very deed you have spoken truer in the matter than you are aware of. For all that believe in Christ are baptized in the blood of Christ that he shed on the cross, and in the water that he sweat for pain, and putting away of our sins at his death. And yet I say with David in Psalm 51, ‘In sin was I born, and in sin hath my mother conceived me:’ but in no such sin that shall be imputed, because I am born of God by faith, as St. John saith, (John 3.)

    Therefore I am blessed, as saith the prophet, ‘Because the Lord imputeth not my sin,’ (Psalm 32.) and not because I have no sin; but because God hath not imputed my sins. Not of our own deserving, but of his free mercy he hath saved us. “Where is now your free will become, that you speak of? If we have free will, then our salvation cometh of our own selves, and not of God; the which is a great blasphemy against God and his word.

    For St. James saith, ‘Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh from above, from the Father of light, with whom is no variableness, neither is he changed into darkness. Of his own will he begat us.’ (James 1.) ‘For the wind bloweth where it listeth, and we hear the sound thereof,’ as saith St. John; ‘but we cannot tell from whence it cometh, neither whither it goeth: even so is it with every one that is born of God.’ (John 3.) For St. Paul saith, ‘It is God that worketh in us the will, and also the deed, even of good will.’ (Philippians 2.) Seeing then that every good and perfect gift cometh from above, and lighteth upon whom it pleaseth God, and that he worketh in us both the will and the deed; methinks all the rest of our own will is little worth, or nought at all, unless it be wickedness. So methinks here be places enow, to prove that a man hath no free will to do good of himself; with a hundred places more that I could recite, if time did serve. And as for original sin, I think I have declared my mind therein, how it remaineth in man; which you cannot deny, unless you deny the word of God. Now, if you will suffer me, I will prove my saying of Jacob and Esau, that I brought in to prove that faith was before baptism, and you refused it, because (you said) Jacob was not baptized. If you will give me leave, you shall see what I can say therein: for methinks you think my talk long.” This I said, because I saw he was sore offenden at my sayings. Langdale: — “Say what you can; for it availeth me to say nothing to you. For I was desired to send for you, to teach you, and there will no words of mine take place in you; but you go about to reprove me. Say what you will, for me.” Woodman: — “I take not upon me to teach you, but to answer to such things as you lay to my charge; and I speak not mine own mind, but the mind of the Holy Ghost, written by the prophets and apostles.

    Will you give me leave to answer briefly in that matter, that you may report to others what I hold?” And he said he was contented. But I think it was for nothing but to have caught vantage of my words. Woodman: — “First, If you be remembered, you said that if my child had died without baptism, if I had been the cause that it had not been baptized, the child should have been damned, and I too. How say you?” Langdale: — “Yea, that you should.” Woodman: — “That is most untrue; for the prophet saith, ‘The father shall not bear the child’s offences, nor the child the father’s offences: but the soul that sinneth shall die.’ What could the child have done withal, if it had died without baptism? the child could not do withal. How say you unto this? And I am sure, that which I brought in, in the old law, to prove that faith is before baptism, is not disagreeable unto the word; for circumcision was a figure of baptism.

    And that I may bring to prove baptism by, as well as St. Peter did; (1 Peter 3.) for he brought in Noah’s flood, which was a long time before Jacob and Esau, to prove baptism, saying, ‘While the ark was a preparing, wherein few (that is to say, eight souls), were saved by water; (Genesis 6.) like as baptism also now sayeth us, not in putting away of the filth of the flesh, but that there is a good conscience consenting to God.’ Here Peter proveth, that water had not saved Noah and the other seven, no more than it saved all the rest, if it had not been for their faith, which faith now sayeth us; not in putting away of the filthy soil of the flesh, by the washing of the water, but by a good conscience consenting unto God. But you said, If they be baptized with the water, if they die before they come to years of discretion, they be all saved; the which St. Peter is clean against, unless you grant that children have faith before they be baptized. Now I ask you, what consent of conscience the children have, being infants? For you say they believe not before they be baptized: ergo then, they consent -not to be baptized, because they believe not. And by this it followeth, that none shall be saved, although they be baptized. I would fain see how you can - answer this.” Langdale: — “You are the most perverse man that ever I knew. You wot not what you say. The children are baptized in their godfathers’ and godmothers’ faith, and that is the good conscience that St. Peter speaketh of; and the christening is the keeping of the law, that St.

    Paul speaketh of, saying, ‘Neither is circumcision anything worth, nor uncircumcision anything worth, but keeping of the law is altogether.

    Like as the circumcision was the keeping of the old law, so is baptism the keeping of the new law.” Woodman: — “Ah! methought if you would talk with me, you should be fain to bring in the old law to maintain your sayings by; for all that you refused it, when I brought it in. But yet it serveth not for your purpose, so much as you think for. For here you have confessed, that neither circumcision availeth, nor uncircumcision, the which you yourself have coupled with baptism, proving that none of them both prevaileth, but keeping of the law is altogether; the which law is kept (you say) by the outward signs: the which is nothing so; for Abraham believed God, and that was counted to him for righteousness; and this was before he was circumcised. So the children believe before they be either circumcised or baptized, according to my first saying of Jacob and Esau, ‘Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.’ These words declare that Jacob had faith in his mother’s womb; also John Baptist was sanctified in his mother’s womb, and therefore it was counted to them for righteousness. And I am sure, if they had died, before they had either received circumcision or baptism as concerning the outward deed, they should have been saved; for God’s gifts and callings are such, that he cannot repent him of them. But, by your saying, he doth both repent and change; for you say, keeping of the outward law is all together. But a bad excuse, is as good as none at all. And whereas you said the children be baptized in their godfathers’ and godmothers’ faith, they being all unbelievers, in what faith is that child baptized then? In none at all, by your own saying.” Which words made him stamp and stare. Langdale: — “What! then you would count that there were very few believers, if there be not one of three, that believeth. You enter into judgment against the people, Belike you think there be none that believe well, unless they be of your mind. Indeed, then Christ’s flock were a very little flock.” Woodman: — “Indeed these be Christ’s words in Luke 12., the which we may see to be very true. Yea, you said, if there were not one amongst three, that were very few. But there is not one amongst three hundred, for any thing that I can see: for if there were, there would not be so many that would seek their neighbors’ goods and lives as there be.” Langdale: Is the flock of Christ such a little flock as you speak of?

    You may call it a great flock. How many be there of them, can you tell me?” Woodman: — “A pretty question, I promise you, it is that you ask me: as though I did make myself equal with God. No, no, you shall catch no such vantage of my words, nor do I know, how many there be: but I will tell you as nigh as I can; for therefore you look. I am sure that I should enter into judgment.” Langdale: Yea, I pray you tell me as much as you can, seeing you be so cunning.” Woodman: — “You shall see my judgment in it by and by. First the prophet saith, Follow not a multitude to do evil, for the most go the wrong way. For the most go the wrong way: there is one point to know them. Then Christ saith in Matthew 7: ‘Broad is the way, and wide is the gate, that leadeth unto destruction, and many there be that go in thereat: and strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.’ And in Luke 12. it is written (which words were spoken of Christ) ‘Come, you little flock, it is my Father’s will to give you a kingdom.’ The third point is this in Mark 2. and Matthew 3., ‘You,’ saith Christ, ‘shall know the tree by the knits.

    A good tree bringeth forth good fruits, and a bad tree bringeth forth bad fruits:’ so by fruits I know them; for every tree that bringeth not forth good fruits, must be hewn down, and cast into the fire (into hell I think Christ meant), and your fruits declare that you be one of them. Thus have I proved four ways, that the people that shall be saved, is but a small company in comparison of the rest. But if that be not enough for the proof thereof, I have twenty ways more to prove it by, and you were never the nearer of your purpose.” Langdale: — “What a naughty man are you! you would make the patientest man in the world angry with you. I think your talk is nothing but pride and vain-glory, with frumps, and mocks, and despising and judging of men. It was time such a fellow were taken indeed. Such a one is enough to trouble a whole country. I think he is blest of God that took you; for you are not meet to be in a commonwealth.” With divers other such like words that I cannot recite, they came out so thick, with stamping and staring and chafing, as though he had been out of his wit.

    I held my peace until he had made an end of his tormentor’s talk , a185 and then I spake: “Wherein have I said amiss? or have I not answered you unto every question that you have demanded of me?

    What fault can you find in one word that I have said? I dare say, you can find none. I marvel why you take on thus against me, having no cause so to do.” Langdale: — “No, no, you have not answered me to original sin; you deny original sin.”

    With these words came in at the door master James Gage; and I think he stood at the door a good while before he came in, and that Dr. Langdale saw him; for his face was to the door-ward, and my face was from it. Gage: — “Ah, Woodman methinks master doctor and you cannot agree.” Woodman: — “Yes, sir, methinks we agree very well.” Langdale: — “Without doubt, sir, he is the naughtiest man that ever I talked with in all my life; for he will have his own way in all things.” Gage: — “Woodman, leave that pride. Do not trust so much to your own wit. Hearken to this man; this is a learned man, I tell you. He is known to be learned; for else he should not be allowed to preach before the queen’s majesty: and I dare say, he will tell thee nothing, nor will thee to do any thing, but that he will do himself; and I dare say, he will not go to the devil to bring thee thither. How say you, master doctor?

    Thou mightest think us mad, if we would hurt ourselves to hurt thee.

    No, I promise thee, my brother, neither I, nor any gentleman in the country, I think of my conscience, but would thou shouldest do as well as their own bodies and souls, as a great many of them have said to thy face, whilst thou wast at my brother’s, and which thou canst not deny.” Woodman: — “Sir, I can say none otherwise but I was gently entreated at your brother’s, both with meat and drink and gentle words, both of you and him, and divers other gentlemen; and I am sure neither you nor they can say, that you found me unreasonable at any time. For I said, I was contented to learn of them that were able to teach me; and so I am, as God knoweth. And here, master doctor (I think) can say no otherwise; for I dare say he can find no fault in the talk that we have had.” Langdale: — “No marry? I can find nothing else in you. I promise you, master Gage, if you had been here, you would have said so yourself. He took me up indeed, and said, he marveled how I durst preach. For he said, I understood not the Scripture, but as far as natural reason comprehended: as though he understood all, and I nothing.”

    With divers other such like words he made a great complaint to him on me, and said to master James Gage, “He would make you believe, that I could find no fault in him. Yes, *iwis a186 *: he denieth original sin; *meaning thereby that he is without sin.”* Gage: — “Yea; doth he so? by St. Mary that is a great matter.

    Woodman! leave that pride. That pride will come to naught. Can ye live without sin?” Woodman: — “Sir, now I perceive he will soon lie on me, behind my back, when he will not stick to lie before my face. He saith, I denied original sin; and it was he himself, as I will let you be judge in the matter. For as he went about to prove, that man hath free-will, he said, we were set as free by the death of Christ, as Adam was before his fall: which words prove plainly, that we have no original sin. And I took him withal, and said, ‘Had Adam original sin before his fall?’ And then he could not tell what to say, but cavilled with words, and said he meant not so; and therefore I marvel he is not ashamed to make such lies to my face.” These words made them both astonied. Gage: — “Master doctor, he said even now, you could find no fault in all his talk. I will bid you ask him a question, and I will warrant you, you shall find fault enough. I pray you ask him, how he believeth in the sacrament of the altar. I think he will make but a bad account thereof.” Woodman: — “Yes, I will make account good enough of that, by God’s help.” Langdale: — “Well, how say you to the sacrament of the altar?” Woodman: — “I say, I know no such sacrament, unless Christ be the altar that you mean.” Gage: — “Lo, I told you, you should soon find fault in him, if you came to that point with him. You should have begun with that first, and never have talked with ]him about other things. What! know you not the sacrament of the altar?” Woodman: — “No, sure; I know no such, unless Christ be the altar that you mean; for Christ is the altar of all goodness. And if you mean Christ to be the altar of the sacrament you speak of, you shall soon hear my mind and belief therein.” Langdale: — “Well, we mean Christ to be the altar. Say your mind, and go briefly to work; for I think it almost dinner-time.” Gage: — “I pray you go roundly to work, that you may make an end before dinner.” Woodman: — “Yes, you shall soon hear my mind therein, by God’s help. I do believe, that whensoever I come to receive the sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus Christ, being truly ministered according to Christ’s institution, I believing that Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, and that he was crucified on the cross, and shed his blood for the remission of my sins, and so take and eat the sacrament of bread and wine in that remembrance; that then I do receive wholly Christ:, God and man, mystically by faith. This, is my belief of the sacrament, the which no man is able to disprove.” Gage: — “By St. Mary, I can find no fault in this. How say you, master doctor?” Langdale: — “Sir, you see not so much in it as I do: for he goeth craftily to work, I tell you, as I have heard. For though he hath granted that the faithful receiver receiveth the body of Christ, God and man, yet he hath not granted that it is the body of Christ before it be received, as you shall see by and by, I warrant you, by his own words.

    How say you? Is it the body of Christ as soon as the words be spoken by the priest, or not? for these words will try him more than all the rest.” Woodman: - “Doth the word say that it is his body before it is received? If it do, I will say so too.” Gage: — “Why, then we shall agree well enough, if you will be tried by the word.” Woodman: — “Yes forsooth, that I will; God forbid else.” Gage: — “Why, the word saith, it is his body before it is eaten.” Woodman: — “Those words would I fain hear; but I am sure they be not in the Bible.” Langdale: — “No! that you shall see by and by, master Gage,” quoth he, and turned to Luke 22., and there he read, “‘When supper was done, Christ took bread, gave thanks, and brake it, and gave to his disciples, and said, Take, eat, this is my body.’” Then they spake both at once, “Here he saith, it is his body.” Woodman: — “Master Gage, I do not deny but he called it his body; but not before eating, as I said before: wherefore I pray you mark the words. Christ said, ‘Take, eat:’ I pray you, sir, mark these words that he said, ‘Take and eat;’ and then he said, ‘it was his body.’ So you see, eating goeth before: for he said, ‘Eat, this is my body.’ So according to the very word, I do believe it is his body.” Which words made them both astonied. Langdale: — “Why then, by your saying, Judas ate not the body of Christ. How say you? did he not?” Woodman: — “Nay, I ask you. Did he?” Langdale: — “I ask you.” Woodman: — “And I ask you.” Langdale: — “And I ask you.” Woodman: — “Marry, and I ask you. And I bid you answer, if you dare, for your life. For whatsoever you answer, unless you say as I have said, you will damn your own soul. For master Gage, I protest before God, I would you should do as well as mine own soul and body; and it lamenteth my heart to see how you be deceived with them: they be deceivers all the sort of them. He cannot answer to this, but either he must prove Judas to be saved, or else he must prove that it is no body before it be received in faith, as you shall well perceive, by God’s help, if he dare answer the question.” Gage: — “Yes, I dare say he dareth. What! you need not to threaten him so.” Woodman: — “Then let him answer, if he can.”

    Then he said, he knew what I would say to him; therefore he was much in doubt to answer the question. Langdale: — “Master Gage, I will tell you in your ear what words he will answer me, or ever I speak to him.”

    Then he told master Gage a tale in his ear, and said, “I have told master Gage what you will say.” Gage: — “Yea, and I will tell the truth for both parties.” Woodman: — “Well, how say you? did Judas eat the body of Christ, or not?” Langdale: — “Yea, I say Judas did eat the body of Christ.” f346 Woodman: “Then it must needs follow, that Judas hath everlasting life: for Christ saith in John 6. ‘Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.’ If Judas did eat Christ’s body, I am sure you cannot deny but that he did both eat his flesh, and drink his blood, and then is Judas saved, by Christ’s own words. Therefore now you are compelled to say that it was not Christ’s body, or else that Judas is saved.” Gage: — “Surely these be the very words that master doctor told me in mine ear, that you would say to him.” Woodman: — “Well, let us see how well he can avoid this argument.” Langdale: — “Judas is damned, and yet he ate the body of Christ: but he ate it unworthily; and therefore he is damned.” Woodman: — “Where find you that Judas did cat the body of Christ unworthily?” Langdale: — “They be St. Paul’s words, 1 Corinthians 11.” Woodman: — “Master Gage, I desire you for God’s sake mark my words well, what I say. If St. Paul speak any such words there, or in any other place; if there be any such words written in all the whole Bible, that ever any man ate the body of Christ unworthily, then say, that I am the falsest man that ever you heard speak with tongue. But indeed, these be the words of St. Paul, ‘Whoso eateth of this bread, and drinketh of this cup unworthily, eateth and drinketh his own damnation, because he maketh no difference of the Lord’s body;’ that is, because he presumeth to eat the sacrament of the Lord’s body without faith, making no difference betwixt the sacrament, and other bread and drink. And that is St. Paul’s meaning; and not that any man doth or can eat the body of Christ unworthily. For whosoever eateth the body of Christ, hath everlasting life, as is afore said in John 6.”

    With these words one came for them to dinner in all haste. Gage: — “I am sorry, I would fain hear more of this talk; but we shall have another day well enough.” Langdale: — “Nay, master Gage, I will never talk with him more; for he is the unreasonablest man that ever I talked with in all my life.”

    Then master Gage put off his cap, and desired him that he would not refuse to talk with me, and that it might not be grievous to him.

    For he said,” We will seek all the means possible to make him an honest man, and to keep him from burning, if we could: for if my brother and I had not been, he had been burned or this time.” Then there was great courtesy betwixt them. Langdale: — “Sir, for your sake, and for my master your brother’s sake, and for his father’s sake, and other of his friends’ sakes, that have spoken to me many times with weeping tears, I will do the best to him that I can; but for no love nor favor that I bear to him, I tell you truth.” f348 Gage: — - ” Woodman, you hear what master doctor saith. When will you come again?” Woodman: — “Even when you will send for me; for I am a prisoner, and cannot come when I would. Or if I should desire to come, it should cost me money, and I have none to give. But, if you send for me, it shall cost me none.” Gage: — “Well, I will send for you on Friday or Saturday, at the furthest; for to-morrow I must ride forth of town, and I would fain hear your talk.” Woodman: — “Sir, I would be very glad you should hear our talk alway; and I trust in God you shall hear me say nothing, but the word of God shall be my warrant.”

    So master Gage took his leave, and went his way to his lodging, which was right in my way as I went unto prisonward again. And when he came without my lord Montague’s gates, there we met with one Hood of Bursted, a smith. Then said maister Gage, “Woodman, I had forgot one thing, that Hood hath brought me in remembrance of as soon as I saw him; for he heard when the tale was told me:” so he adder], “Hood, did not you hear when Smith of Framfield told me, that he saw Woodman abroad in the city, at liberty?” Hood: — “Yea forsooth, that I did.” Gage: — “Yea surely, and I was very glad; for I had well hoped you had been conformable. But I heard otherwise afterward again, that you had leave of the keeper to go abroad and speak openly in the streets, as you went up and down.” Woodman: — “Indeed so the marshal told me to-day, But indeed I was never abroad since I came to prison, but when I was sent for, and indeed the same time I was abroad with my keeper, coming from the bishop. And as I was coming, even not far from the Marshalsea, I saw goodman Smith stand in a wain, unlading of cheese, and I asked him how he did, even as I went by, and never staid for the matter, and thereupon it did rise.” So! departed from them, with my keeper to the Marshalsea again, where I now am merry, I praise God there-for, as a sheep appointed to be slain.

    THE FOURTH EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN, Had before the Bishop of Winchester, the Bishop of Rochester, and a certain Doctor, with divers other Priests and Gentlemen, the 25th day of May.

    I was fet from the Marshalsea to the said bishops and priests, sitting in St. George’s church in Southwark, by one of the marshal’s men and one of the sheriff’s men. When I came before them, and had done my duty to them as nigh as I could, then said the bishop of Winchester, “What is your name?” Woodman: — “My name is Richard Woodman, forsooth.” Winchester: — “Ah Woodman! you were taken and apprehended for heresy about a three years agone, and were sent to prison in the King’s Bench, a187 and there remained a long time. Mine old lord of Chichester, being a learned famous man, well known in this realm of England, and almost throughout all Christendom, I think, came to prison to you; and there, and at other places, called you before him divers times, travailing and persuading with you many times (because he was your ordinary) to pluck you from your heresies that you held; but he could by no means advertise you. Whereupon you were delivered to the commissioners; and they could do no good with you neither. Then they sent you unto my lord of London. My lord of London calling you before him divers times, labor was made unto him of your friends, that you might be released. My Lord, having a good hope in you, that you would become an honest man, because he had heard so of you in times past, yea and you yourself promising him, that you would go home and recant your heresies that you held. delivered you; sending also a letter of your recantation to the commissary, that he should see it done. But as soon as you were out of his hands, you were as bad as ever you were, and would never fulfil your promise, but have hid yourself in the woods, hushes, dens, and caves; and rims have you continued ever since, till it was now of late.

    Then the sheriff of that shire (being a worshipful man) hearing thereof, sent certain of his men, and took you in a wood, and so carried you to his house. I cannot tell his name. What is your sheriff’s name?” Woodman: — “Forsooth, his name is sir Edward Gage.” Winchester: — “Well, you were apprehended for heresy; and being at master Gage’s three weeks or more, ye were gently entreated there; he and other gentlemen persuading with you divers times, little prevailed. Then you appealed to the bishop of Chichester that now is.

    The sheriff, like a worshipful man, sent you to him, and he hath travailed with you, and others also, and can do no good with you; whereupon we have sent for you.”

    Then I spake to him; for I thought he would be long, *or ever he made* an end. I thought he was a year a telling of those lies that he had told there against me already. Yea, I kept silence from good words, but it was great pain and grief unto me, as David said. At length the fire was so kindled within my heart, that I could not choose but speak with my tongue; for I feared lest any of the company should have departed or ever I had answered to his lies, and so the gospel to have been slandered by my long silencekeeping.

    So I spake, I praise God there-for, and said, “My lord: I pray you let me now answer for myself, for it is time.” Winchester: — “I permit you to answer to these things that I have said.” Woodman: — “I thank God there-for. And I think myself happy (as Paul said, when he was brought before king Agrippa), that I may this day answer for myself. My lord! I promise you there is never a word of your sayings true, that you have alleged against me.” Winchester: — “I cannot tell, but thus it is reported of you. As for me, I never did see you before this day; but I am sure it is not all lies that I have said, as you report.” Woodman: — “Yes, my lord, there is never a true word of that you have said. And further, whereas you said you never saw me before this day, you have both heard me, and seen me, I dare say, before this day.” Winchester: — “I think I heard you indeed on Sunday, where you played the malapert fellow; but I cannot tell that I saw you. But I pray you, were you not taken in the woods by the sheriff’s men?” Woodman: — “No sure, I was taken beside my house, I being in my house when they came: wherefore that is not true.” Winchester: — “Were not you at the sheriff’s three weeks?” Woodman: — “Yes, that I was, a month just, and was gently entreated of him, I can say no otherwise; for I had meat and drink enough, and fair words.” Winchester: — “ Ah! I am well apaid ; a188 it is not all lies then, as it chanced. For I spake but of three weeks, and you confess a month yourself.” Woodman: — “Yet your tale is never the truer for that. For you said, I was there three weeks for heresy, the which is not so. For I was not apprehended for heresy at the first, neither did mine old lord of Chichester travail with me to pull me from heresy, as you said; for I held none then, neither do I now, as God knoweth; neither was I sent to the commissioners, nor to the bishop of London for heresy; neither was I delivered to him for any such thing, nor promised him to recant, as you said I did. Wherefore I marvel you be not ashamed to tell so many lies, being a bishop, that should be an ensample to others.” Winchester: - “Lo, what an arrogant heretic this same is. He will deny God; for he that denieth his own hand, denieth God.” Woodman: — “My lord, judge not lest you be judged yourself. For as you have judged me, you shall be judged; if you repent not. And if I have set my hand to any recantation, let it be seen to my shame, before this audience; for I will never deny mine own hand, by God’s help.” Winchester: — “It is not here now, but I think it will be had well enough; but if it cannot be found, by whom will you be tried?” Woodman: — “Even by my lord of London; for he dealt like a good man with me in that matter that I was sent to prison for. For it was upon the breach of a statute, as master sheriff here can tell; for he was sheriff then, as he is now, and can tell how I was tossed up and down from sessions to sessions. And because I would not consent that I had offended therein, they sent me to prison again. Then my lord of Chichester, being mine ordinary, and I being his tenant, came to me, to persuade with me that I should have consented to them, and to find myself in fault, where I was in none. To the which I would not agree, but I desired him that he would see me released of my wrong.; but he said he could not, but willed me or my friends to speak to the commissioners for me, because it was a temporal matter. And when I came before them, they sent me to my lord of London; and my lord of London was certified by the hands of almost thirty men, both esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen, the chiefest in all the country where I dwelt, that I had not offended in the matter that I was sent to prison for.

    Whereupon he delivered me, not willing me to recant heresies, for I held none (as God knoweth), neither do I now; nor do I know wherefore I was sent to prison, no more than any man here knoweth; for I was taken away from my work.” Winchester: — “No? wherefore appealed you then to my lord of Chichester, if it were not for heresy?” Woodman: — “Because there was laid to my charge that I had baptized children, and married folks; the which I never did, for I was nowhere minister. Wherefore I appealed to mine ordinary, to purge myself thereof; as I have. Wherefore, :if any man have any thing against me, let him speak; for I came not hither to accuse myself, neither will I.” Winchester: — “Master sheriff, can you tell upon what breach of the statute he was sent to prison first?” The Sheriff: — “Yea, forsooth, my lord; that I can.” Woodman: — “My lord, if you will give me leave, I will show you the whole matter.” Winchester: — “Nay, master sheriff, I pray you tell the matter, seeing you know it.” The Sheriff: — “My lord, it was for speaking to a curate in the pulpit, as I remember.” Winchester: — “Ah! like enough, that he would not stick to reprove a curate: for did you not see how he fashioned himself to speak to me in the pulpit on Sunday? He played the malapert fellow with me; and therefore it was no great marvel though he played that part with another.” Woodman: — “Why, you will not blame me for that, I am sure: for we spake for no other cause, but to purge ourselves of those heresies that you laid to our charge For these were your words: ‘Good people! these men that be brought. before us, being here, deny Christ to be God, and the Holy Ghost to be God’ (pointing to us with your left hand); the which might seem to the whole audience, that you meant us all. Wherefore, to clear ourselves thereof, we spake and said, we held no such thing. And you said, you would cut out our tongues. But I am sure you have no such law.” Winchester: — “Yes, that we have, if you blaspheme; and as it chanced, I found such amongst you.” Woodman: — “Indeed after we spake, you declared who they were, but not before; for you spake generally. Wherefore we blasphemed not, but purged ourselves.” Winchester: — “But I pray you, how can you purge yourself for speaking to the curate, that it is not heresy?” Woodman: — “Forsooth these be the words of the statute: ‘Whosoever doth interrupt any preacher or preachers, lawfully authorized by the queen’s majesty, or by any other lawful ordinary, that all such shall suffer three months’ imprisonment, and furthermore be brought to the quarter-sessions, there (being sorry for the same) to be released, upon his good abearing one whole year.’ But I had not so offended, as it was well proved: for he that I spake to, was not lawfully authorized, nor had put away his wife. Wherefore it was not lawful for him to preach, by your own law; and therefore I brake not the statute, though I spake to him.” Winchester: — “I am glad, I perceive this man speaketh against priests’ marriages; he is not contented with priests that have wives. He is an honester man than I took him for, master sheriff: have him away!

    I am glad he loveth not priests’ marriages.” f353 Then I would have answered to his sayings, but he would in no wise hear me, but bade the sheriff have me away. So the sheriff took me by the hand, and plucked me away, and would not let me speak; but going out of the chancel door, I said, “I would show him the whole matter, if he would have given me leave; but seeing he will not, if he will let me go so, they shall see whether I will not go home to my wife and children, and keep them, as my bounden duty is, by the help of God.” So I was sent to the Marshalsea again, where I am now merry, I praise God there-for, as a sheep appointed to be slain.

    Moreover, I was credibly informed by one of our brethren that heard our talk, that the bishop said when I was gone, that they would take me whilst I was somewhat good: which words seemed to many of the people that were there, that I spake against priests’ marriages; but I did not, but did only answer to such questions as he asked me, as you shall perceive well by the words, if you mark them, which words were these: “How can you purge yourself from heresy, for talking to the curate in the pulpit, and not offend the statute?” said the bishop; meaning thereby, I think, to have taken vantage of my words; but it was not God’s will that he should at that time. For I answered him by the words of the statute, which words be as hereafter followeth (that is), “Whosoever doth interrupt any preacher or preachers, lawfully authorized by the queen’s majesty, or by any other lawful ordinary, that all such shall suffer three months’ imprisonment.” But I proved that this man was not lawfully authorized to preach, by their own law, because he had not put away his wife. For their law is, that no priest may say mass, nor preach with the mass, but he must first be separated from his wife. That is, because honest marriages be good and commendable, and theirs naught and abominable; therefore they cannot dwell together.

    Now I give you all to understand, that I did not reprove this priest because he had a wife, but because he taught false doctrine, which grieved my soul, because he had been a fervent preacher against the mass, and all the idolatry thereof, seven years before, and then came and held with it again; for the which cause I reproved him in the pulpit. And the words that I spake to him, are written in divers of my examinations at my first imprisonment for that same. But in very deed, I knew not of the statute when I reproved him. But because I was sent to prison upon the breach of it, I bought a statute book; and when I had perused it, I perceived I had not offended, by their own law; and therefore still, when I was called to answer, I answered them with their own law. But yet they kept me in prison a year and almost three quarters, or ever I was released. I was at mine answer for that eighteen times. If any think I do not allow bishops’ and priests’ marriages, let them look in my first examination before the bishop of Chichester that now is, during this my imprisonment, and there they shall find what I have said in the matter. The truth is, I looked to be condemned with my brother that same day; but we may all see, that they can do nothing but as God will permit them to do. But when the time is full come, I trust in God I shall run that joyful race that my brethren have done.

    Thus I commit you all into the hands of God, who is the preserver, defender, and keeper of all his elect for evermore, Amen.

    THE FIFTH EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN, Had before the Bishop of Winchester, the Archdeacon of Canterbury, Dr.

    Langdale, with a fat-headed Priest, and others, whose names I know not, with certain also of the Commissioners, at St. Mary Overy’s Church in Southwark, in the presence of three hundred people at the least, the 15th day of June, anno 1557. Winchester: — “Woodman, you were before us the last day, and would not be known in any wise that you were sent to prison for heresy; and called for your accusers, and stood stoutly in defending of yourself. And, in your departing, I had thought you had spoken against priests’ marriages, thinking by your words we should have found you an honest man, and conformable, when we had called you before us again. You told such a fair tale for yourself, as though you had been free from all that was laid to your charge: for you said it was all lies, that I told against you. But since, I have proved the contrary, as here is your own hand to show; by the which I have proved, that you reproved not the priest for lacking of authority, and because he had not put away his wife, but because you liked not his preaching. For indeed I took it, that you reproved him because he was not lawfully authorized; but I have proved the contrary since.” Woodman: — “I told you not, that I did either reprove him for lack of authority, or because I liked not his preaching; but I told you wherefore I was first sent to prison. For you said I was sent to prison for heresy; and made a long tale against me. And indeed I told you that there was never a word of your sayings true, but was all lies; as it was indeed. For I never was sent to prison for heresy, neither held I any then, nor do now, I take heaven and earth to witness. But I told you I was sent to prison upon the breach of a statute, which was for speaking to a priest in the pulpit; and for that cause the justices of that country had thought I had offended the statute, and called me before them; and would have had me to have been bound to my good abearing; and because I refused it, they sent me to prison. And these be the words of the statute, as I told you the last day: ‘If any man do interrupt any preacher or preachers, lawfully authorized by the queen’s majesty, or by any other lawful ordinary, that then every party that so offendeth, shall suffer three months’ imprisonment, and furthermore be brought to the quarter-sessions; and there being sorry for the same, and also bound for his good abearing one whole year, to be released, or else to remain to prison again.’ And when I was in prison, I bought a statute-book, which when I had perused over, I found by the words thereof, that I had not offended, because he was not lawfully authorized, as the bishop of London was certified by the hands almost of thirty men, both esquires, gentlemen, and yeomen, the chiefest in all that country. For he had not put away his wife, and therefore the statute took no place on me, as I told you the other day.

    Wherefore my lord of London, seeing me have so much wrong, did like a good man to me in that matter, and released me. Now when I had told you this matter, you bade the sheriff have me away; you said, you were glad I held against priests’ marriages, because I answered to the question you asked me.” The fat Priest: — “My lord, do you not hear what he saith by my lord of London? He saith he is a good man in that he released him; but he meaneth that he is good in nothing else.” Woodman: — “What! can you tell what I mean? Let every man say as he findeth; he did justly to me in that matter. I say, if he be not good in any thing else, as you say, he shall answer for it, and not I; for I have nothing to do with other men’s matters.” Winchester: — “Well, how say you? how liked you his preaching? I pray you tell us.” f354 Woodman: — “That is no matter how I liked it. Howsoever I liked it, I offended not the statute. Wherefore you have nothing to say to me for that, I am sure.” Winchester: — “Well, how like you this then? Here is your own hand. writing. I am sure you will not deny it. Will you look on it?” Woodman: — “It is mine own handiwork indeed, the which, by God’s help, I will never deny, nor ever did yet, I praise God there-for.” Winchester: — “And here is good gear I tell you. I pray you hearken well to it. These be the words before the commissioners; ‘How say you? Do not you believe that, as soon as the words be spoken by the priest, there remaineth neither bread nor wine, but only the very body of Christ, both flesh and blood, as he was born of the Virgin Mary?’

    These were the words of the commissioners. And then thou saidst, thou durst not say otherwise than the Scripture saith. ‘I cannot find,’ say you, ‘that it is the body of Christ before it is received by faith,’ bringing in Luke 22., saying, ‘Christ said, ‘Take, eat, this is my body,’ so I cannot prove it is his body before it is eaten.’ Then said the commissioners, ‘Did not Judas eat Christ’s body ?’ ‘And if you can prove that Judas is saved,’ said you, ‘I must grant that he ate his body.

    For Christ Saith in John 6. ‘Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day;’ which words prove,’ said you, ‘that if Judas ate the body of Christ, he must needs be saved.’ How say you now? did Judas eat the body of Christ, or not?”

    Then I perceived he went about nothing but to catch words of me in his diocese, to condemn me with. Though I should confound him never so much, I perceived that he was fully bent thereto. To whom I answered and said, “I will answer you to no such firing, for I am none of your diocese; wherefore I will not answer to you.” Winchester: — “Thou art within my diocese, and thou hast offended within my diocese; and therefore I will have to do with thee.” Woodman: — “Have to do with me, if you will; but I will have nothing to do with you, I tell you plainly. For though I be now in your diocese, I have not offended in your diocese ‘ if I have, show me wherein.” Winchester: — “Marry, here is thine own hand-writing, the which thou affirmedst in my diocese.” Woodman: — “I do not deny but it is mine own hand-writing; but that proveth never the more that I have offended in your diocese: for that doth but declare what talk there was betwixt the commisioners and me; the which you have nothing to do withal.” Winchester: — “No? hold him a book! And thou shalt swear whether thou holdest it now, or not, and whether thou wrotest it not in my diocese, as I think thou didst. Lay thy hand on the book!” Woodman: — “I will not be sworn for you; for I am not of your diocese; and therefore you have nothing to do with me. And as for the writing of the same, I never wrote [‘one] word of it in your diocese.” Langdale: — “No! did you not? My lord, let me see; I will find where you wrote it.”

    Then he took it and looked on it, and anon he found that I was sent for out of the King’s Bench, to come before the commissioners. Langdale: — “My lord, here you may see it was in the King’s Bench, the which is in your diocese.” Woodman: — “Although I were fet out of the King’s Bench, that proveth not that I wrote it there; nor did I not, I promise you truly.” The fat Priest: — “Where wrote you it then?” Woodman: — “Nay, I owe you not so much service as to tell you: find it out as well as you can; for I perceive you go about to shed my blood.” Winchester: — “It is no great matter where it was written: it is here, and he denieth not but he wrote it. You shall hear more of it. Here the commissioners asked you, whether Judas did eat any more than bare bread, and you answered that he ate more than bare bread. Whereupon they sent you away back to the King’s Bench again, and asked you not, ‘What more?’ for the which cause (as you have written here) you had a hell burning in your conscience. For you had thought they would have sent a discharge to the King’s Bench: ‘and so let me go,’ said you, ‘and register my name in their books, that I had granted that Judas did eat the body of Christ; and so the gospel should have been slandered by me. For the which cause I was in such case, I could scantly eat, drink, or sleep for that space; as all my prison-fellows can testify. If all you, I say, that go to the church of Satan, and there hear the detestable doctrine, that they spit and spew out in their churches and pulpits, to the great; dishonor of God; if all you, I say, that come there, had such a hell burning in your conscience for the time, as I had till I came before them again, and had uttered my conscience more plainly, I dare say you would come there no more.’ All this is your writing; is it not?

    How say you?” Woodman: — “I do not deny but it was mine own deed.” Winchester: — “And I pray you, where is there such spitting and spewing out of false doctrine as you speak of?” Woodman: — “In the synagogue of Satan, where God is dishonored with false doctrine.” Winchester: — “And I pray you, where is one of them?” Woodman: — “Nay, that judge yourself; I came not hither to be a judge.” Winchester: — “Well, here you have affirmed, that Judas, your master, ate more than bread; but yet he ate not the body of Christ, as you have declared by your words. For you had a hell burning in your conscience, because you were in doubt that the commissioners understood by your words, that Judas had eaten the body of Christ, because you said, he ate more than bare bread. Therefore thou hadst a great sort of devils in thee; for in hell be many devils: and therefore the devil and Judas is thy master, by thine own words.” Woodman: — “Nay, I defy Judas and the devil, and his servants; for they be your masters, and you serve them, for any thing that I can see; I tell you truth.” Winchester: — “Nay, they be thy masters. For the devil is master where hell is, and thou saidst thou hadst a burning hell in thee. I pray thee tell me, how thou canst avoid it, but that the devil was in thee, by thine own saying?” f355 Woodman: — “The hell that I had, was the loving correction of God toward me, to call :me to repentance, that I should not offend God and his people in leaving things so dark, as I left that. For the which cause my conscience bare me record, I had not done well, as at all times I have felt the sting of it, when I have broken the commandments of God by any means, as all God’s people do, I dare say; and it is the lovingkindness of God towards them, to drive them to repentance. But it is to be thought, that your conscience is never troubled, how wickedly soever you do: for if it were, it should not be so strange to you as you make it, which declareth plainly whose servant you be.” Winchester: — “What a naughty fellow is this! This is such a perverse villain as I never talked with in all my life. Hold him a book, I will make him swear, to answer directly to such things as I will demand of him; and if he will not answer, I will condemn him.” Woodman: — “Call you me a fellow? I am such a fellow, I tell you, that will drive you all to hell, if you consent to the shedding of my blood, and you shall have blood to drink, as saith St. John in his Revelation, the ninth chapter. And being in hell, you shall be compelled to say, for pain of conscience, ‘This is the man that we have had in derision, and thought his life madness, and his end to be without honor; but now we may see how he is counted among the saints of God, and we are punished.’ This shall you say in hell, if you repent it not, if you do condemn me. This you shall find in the fifth chapter of the Book of Wisdom: and therefore take heed what you do, I give you counsel.” Winchester: — “Wisdom! What speakest thou of wisdom? thou never hadst it; for thou art as very a fool as ever t heard speak.” Woodman: — “Do you not know, that the foolish things of this world must confound the wise things?(1 Corinthians 1.) Wherefore it grieveth me not to be called a fool at your hands.” Winchester: — “Nay, thou art none of those fools; thou art an obstinate fool, and a heretic. Lay hand on the book, and answer to such things as I will lay against thee.” Woodman: — “I will lay hand on the book for none of you all. You be not my bishop; and therefore I will have nothing to do with you.” Winchester: — “I will have to do with you. This man is without law, he careth not for the king nor queen, I dare say; for he will not obey their laws. Let me see the king’s commission. I will see whether he will obey that, or not.” Woodman: — “I would you loved the king and queen’s majesty no worse than I do, if it pleased God: you would not do as you do then.” Winchester: — “Hold him a hook; he is a rank heretic. Thou shalt answer to such things as I will demand of thee.” Woodman: — “I take heaven and earth to record I am no heretic, neither can I tell wherefore I am brought to prison, no more than any man here can tell.” And therewith I looked round about on the people, and said to the bishop, “If you have any just cause against me worthy of death, lay it against me, and let me have it; for I refuse not to die (I praise God) for the truth’s sake, if I had ten lives. If you have no cause, let me go home, I pray you, to my wife and children to see them kept, and other poor folk that I would set awork by the help of God. I have set on work a hundred persons or this, all the year together, and was unjustly taken from them: but God forgive them that did it, if it be his will.” Winchester: — “Do you not see how he looketh about for help? But I would see any man show thee a cheerful countenance, and especially you that be of my diocese. If any of you bid God strengthen him, f356 or take him by the hand, or embrace him, or show him a cheerful countenance, you shall be excommunicated, and shall not be received in again, till you have done open penance; and therefore beware of it!” Woodman: — “I look for no help of men, for God is on my side, I praise him there-for; and therefore I need not to care who be against me, neither do I care.”

    Then they cried, “Away with him, and bring us another.” So I was carried again to the Marshalsea, where I am now merry (I praise God there-for) as a sheep appointed to be slain. — But for lack of time, I have left out much of our talk; but this is the chiefest of it.

    THE SIXTH AND LAST EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WOODMAN, WRITTEN AND COPIED WITH HIS OWN HAND.

    Be it known unto all men by this present writing, that I Richard Woodman, sometime of the parish of Warbleton, in the county of Sussex, was condemned for God’s everlasting truth, anno 1557, July 16, by the bishop of Winchester, in the church of St. Mary Overy’s in Southwark, there sitting with him the same time the bishop of Chichester, the archdeacon of Canterbury, Dr. Langdale, maister Roper, with a fat Oporke-Sheaded priest, I cannot tell his name. All these consented to the shedding of my blood, upon this occasion, as hereafter followeth.

    I affirmed, that Judas received the sacrament with a sop, and the devil withal; and because I would not be sworn upon a book, to answer directly to such articles as he would declare to me; and because I would not believe that there remained neither bread nor wine after the words of consecration, and that the body of Christ could not be received of any but of the faithful, for these articles I was condemned, as hereafter shall follow more at large, by the help of God.

    First, the bishop of Winchester said when I came before him, “You were before us on Monday last past; and there you affirmed certain heresies. How say you now? Do you hold them still, or will you revoke them?” Woodman: — I held no heresies then, neither do I now, as the Lord knoweth.” Winchester: — “No? did you not affirm, that Judas received bread? which is no heresy, unless you tell what more than bread.” Woodman: — Is it heresy to say, Judas received no more than bread? I said, he received more than bare bread, for he received the same sacrament that was prepared to show forth the Lord’s death; and because he presumed to eat without faith, he ate the devil withal, as the words of Christ declare; after he ate the sop, the devil entered into him, as you cannot deny.” Winchester: — “Hold him a book. I will have you answer directly, whether Judas did eat the body of Christ or no.” Woodman: — “I will answer no more, for I am not of your diocese; where- fore I will have nothing to do with you.” Winchester: — “No? you be in my diocese; and you he of my diocese, because you have offended in my diocese.” Woodman: — “I am not of your diocese, although I am in your diocese, and I was brought into your diocese against my will: and I have not offended in your diocese: if I have, tell me wherein.” Winchester: — “Here, in your own hand-.writing, the which is heresy. These be the words: ‘I cannot find,’ say you, ‘that it is the body of Christ to any, before it is received in faith.’ How say you? is not this your own hand- writing?” Woodman: — “Yea, I do not deny but it is mine own hand-writing.

    But when or where was it written, or where were the words spoken?” Winchester: — “Before the commissioners, and here is one of them.

    Master Roper! the words were spoken before you: were they not?” Roper: — “Yes indeed that they were. Woodman, I am sure you will not deny them; for you have written the words even as you spake them.” Woodman: — “No sir, indeed I will not deny but that I spake them, and I am glad that you have seen it: for you may see by that, whether! lie, or not.” Roper: — “Indeed the words be written word by word as ye spake them.” Winchester: — “Well, here you affirm, that it is your own deed.

    How say you now? will you be sorry for it, and become an honest man?” Woodman: — “My lord, I trust no man can say, but that I am an honest, man; and as for that, I marvel that you will lay it to my charge, knowing that my lord of London discharged me of all matters that were laid against me, when I was; released of him.” Winchester: — “You were released, and it might fortune, it was not laid to ‘ your charge then; therefore we lay it to your charge now, because you be suspected to be a heretic: and we may call you before us, and examine you upon your faith upon suspicion.” Woodman: — “Indeed St. Peter willeth me to render account of my hope that I have in God; and I am contented so to do, if it please my bishop to hear me.” Chichester: — “Yes, I pray you let us hear it.” Woodman: - I do believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and of earth, and of all things visible and invisible; and in one Lord Jesus Christ my Savior, very God, and very man. I believe in God the Holy Ghost, the Comforter of all God’s elect people, and that he is equal with the Father and the Son. I believe the true catholic church, and all the sacraments that belong thereto. Thus have I rendered account of my hope that I have of my salvation.” Winchester: — “And how believe you in the blessed sacrament of the altar?” And with that word they all put off their caps to that abominable idol. Woodman: — “I pray you be contented, for I will not answer to any more questions; for I perceive you go about to shed my blood.” Winchester: — “No? Hold him a book. If he refuse to swear, he is an anabaptist, and shall be excommunicated.” f357 Woodman: - “I will not swear for you, excommunicate me if you will; for you be not meet to take an oath; for you laid heresies to my charge in yonder pulpit, the which you are not able to prove: wherefore you he not meet to take an oath of any man. And as for me, I am not of your diocese, nor will have any thing to do with you.” Winchester: — “I will have to do with thee, and I say thou art a strong heretic.” Woodman: — “Yea, all truth is heresy with you; but I am content to show you my mind, how I believe on the sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus! Christ, without flattering: for that you look for, I am sure. But I will meddle no further, but what I hold myself of it. I will not meddle of any other man’s belief on it.” Harpsfield: — “Why? I am sure all men’s faith ought to be alike.” Woodman: — “Yea, I grant you so, that all true Christians’ faith ought to be alike. But I will answer for myself.” Harpsfield: — “Well, let us hear what you say to it.” Woodman: — “I do believe, that when I come to receive the sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus Christ, if it be truly ministered according to Christ’s institution, I coming in faith, as I trust in God I will, whensoever I come to receive it, I believing that Christ was born for me, and that he suffered death for the remission of my sins, and that I shall be saved by his death and blood-shedding, and so receive the sacrament of bread and wine in that remembrance, that then I do receive whole Christ, God and man mystically by faith: this is my belief on the sacrament.”

    Then they spake all at once, saying, “Mystically by faith?” The fat Priest: — “What a fool art thou: ‘mystically by faith?’

    Thou canst not tell what ‘ mystically’ is.” Woodman: — “If I be a fool, so take me. But God hath chosen such fools of this world, to confound such wise things as you are.” The fat Priest: — “I pray thee, what is ‘mystically?’” Woodman: — “I take ‘mystically’ to be the faith that is in us; that the world seeth not, (1 Corinthians 1.) but God only.” Winchester: — “He cannot tell what he saith. Answer to the sacrament of the altar, whether it be not the body of Christ before it be received, and whether it be not the body of Christ to whomsoever [he be that] receiveth it? Tell me, or else I will excommunicate thee.” Woodman: — “I have said as much as I will say. Excommunicate me if you will: I am none of your diocese. The bishop of Chichester is mine ordinary. Let him do it, if you will *allgates* have a189 my blood, that it may be required at his hands.” Chichester: — “I am not consecrated yet; I told you when you were with me.” Woodman: — “No indeed! your kine bring forth nothing but cow-calves, as it chanced yet now ;” a190 meaning thereby that he had not his bulls from Rome.

    Then they were all in a great rage with me, and called me all to nought; and said I was out of my wits, because I spake fervently to every man’s question; all the which I cannot remember, but I said, “So Festus said to Paul, when he spake the words of soberness and truth out of the Spirit of God, as I do. But as you have judged me, you be yourselves. You will go to hell, all the sort of you, if you condemn me, if you repent it not with speed.”

    Then my keeper, and the sheriff’s deputy Fuller, rebuked me, because I spake so sharply to them. And I said, “I pray you let me alone; I must answer for my life.” Then there was much ado that I should keep silence, and so I held my peace.

    Then spake the bishop of Winchester and the archdeacon of Canterbury, saying, “We go not about to condemn thee, but go about to save thy soul, if thou wilt be ruled, and do as we would have thee.” Woodman: — “To save my soul! Nay, you cannot save my soul.

    My soul is saved already: [praise God there-for. There can no man save my soul, but Jesus Christ; and he it is, that hath saved my soul, before the foundation of the world was laid.” The fat Priest: — “What a heresy is that, my lord! here is another heresy! He saith his soul was saved before the foundations of the world were laid. Thou canst not tell what thou sayest. Was thy soul saved before it was?” Woodman: — “Yes, I praise God I can tell what I say, and I say the truth. Look in Ephesians 1, and there you shall find it, where Paul saith, ‘Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which hath blessed us with all manner of spiritual blessings in heavenly things, by Christ, according as he hath chosen us in himself before the foundation of the world was laid, that we should be holy and without blame before him, through love; and thereto were we predestinated.’ These be the words of Paul, and I believe they be most true. And therefore it is my faith, in and by Jesus Christ, that sayeth; and not you, or any mall else.” The fat Priest: — “What! faith without works? St. James saith.

    Faith without works is dead,’ and we have free will to do good works.” Woodman: — “I would not that any of you should think that I disallow good works: for a good faith cannot be without good works.

    Yet not of ourselves, but it is the gift of God, as saith St. Paul to the Philippians, chap. 2. ‘It is God that worketh in US both the will and also the deed, even of good will.’” Winchester: — “Make an end: answer to me. Here is your ordinary, the archdeacon of Canterbury: he is made your ordinary by my lord cardinal, and he hath authority to examine you of your faith upon a book, to answer to such articles as he will lay to you. And f pray you refuse it not; for the danger is great, if you do. Wherefore we desire you to show yourself a subject in this matter.” Then they spake all, and said, “Lo! my lord desireth you gently to answer to him, and so we do all. For if you refuse to take an oath, he may excommunicate you. For my lord cardinal may put whom he will in the bishop’s office, until he is consecrated.” Woodman: — “I know not so much. If you will give me time to learn the truth of it (if I can prove it to be as you say), I will tell you my mind in any thing that he shall demand of me, without any flattering.” Priest: — “My lord, and all we, tell thee it is true; and therefore answer to him.” Woodman: — “I will believe none of you all, for you be turncoats and changelings, and be wavering-minded, as saith St. James; you be neither hot! nor cold, as saith St. John, therefore God will spew you out of his mouth. Wherefore I can believe none of you all, I tell you truth.” Winchester: — “What! be we turncoats and changelings; what meanest thou by that?” Woodman: — “I mean, that in king Edward’s time you taught the doctrine that was set; forth then, every one of you, and now you teach the contrary; and therefore I call you turncoats and changelings, as I may well enough:” which words made. the most part of them to quake. Winchester: — “Nay, not all, as it chanced.” Woodman: — “No! I pray where were you then?” Winchester: — “I was in the Tower, as the lieutenant will bear me record.” Woodman: — “If you were in the Tower, it was not there-for, I dare say; it was for some other matter.” Then they all took heart of grace , a191 and said, “My lord, he cometh to examine you, we think: if he will not answer to the articles, you were best to excommunicate him.” Winchester: — “He is the naughtiest varlet-heretic that ever I knew.

    I will read the sentence against him.” Then they spake all at once, and I answered them as fast as I could. But I cannot remember it all, the words came out so thick, and that I spared them not (I praise God there-for); for I spake freely, Then they that stood by rebuked me, and said, “You cannot tell to whom you speak, I think.” Woodman: — “No! think you so? They be but men. I am sure I have spoken to as good as they be, and better than they will ever be, for any thing that I can see, if they repent not with speed.” Winchester: — “Give ear; for I will read sentence against you.” Woodman: — “Will you so? wherefore will you? You have no just cause to excommunicate me; and therefore if you do condemn me, you will be condemned in hell, if you repent not; and I praise God, I am not afraid to die for God’s sake, if I had a hundred lives.” Winchester: — “For God’s sake? nay, for the devil’s sake! Thou sayest thou art not afraid to die: no more was Judas that hanged himself, as thou wilt kill thyself willfully, because thou wilt not be ruled.” Woodman: — “Nay, I defy the devil, Judas, and all their members.

    And Judas’s flesh was not afraid, but his spirit and conscience were afraid, and therefore [he] despaired and hung himself. But I praise God, I feel no loathsomeness in my flesh to die, but a joyful conscience, and a willing mind thereto. Wherefore my flesh is subdued to it, I praise God; and therefore I am not afraid of death.” Chichester: — “Woodman, for God’s sake be ruled. You know what you said to me at my house. I could say more, if I would.” Woodman: — “Say what you can; the most fault that you found in me was, because I praised the living God, and because I said, I praise God, and the Lord: which you ought to be ashamed of, if you have any grace; for I told you where the words were written.” f359 Winchester: — “Well, how say you? will you confess that Judas received the body of Christ unworthily? tell me plainly.” Woodman: — “My lord, if you, or any of you all, can prove before all this audience, in all the Bible, that any man ever ate the body of Christ unworthily, then I will be with you in all things that you will demand of me; of the which matter I desire all this people to be witness.” Priest: — “Will you so? then we shall agree well enough. St. Paul saith so.Woodman: — “I pray you where saith he so? rehearse the words.” Priest: — “In 1 Corinthians 11. he saith, ‘Whoso eateth of this bread, and drinketh of this cup unworthily, eateth and drinketh his own damnation, because he maketh no difference of the Lord’s body.’” Woodman: — “Do these words prove that Judas ate the body of Christ unworthily? I pray you let me see them.” They were contented.

    Then said I, “These be the words even that you said: (good people, hearken well to them) ‘Whoso eateth of this bread and drinketh of this cup unworthily.’ He saith not, whoso eateth of this body unworthily, or drinketh of this blood unworthily: but he saith, ‘Whoso eateth of this bread, and drinketh of this cup unworthily,’ (which is the sacrament), ‘eateth and drinketh his own damnation,’ because he maketh no difference between the sacrament which representeth the Lord’s body, and other bread and drink. Here, good people! you may all see they are not able to prove their sayings true. Wherefore I cannot believe them in any thing that they do.” Winchester: — “Thou art a rank heretic indeed. Art thou an expounder? Now I will read sentence against thee.” Woodman: — “Judge not, lest you be judged: for as you have judged me, you be yourself.” Then he read the sentence. “Why,” said I, “will you read the sentence against me, and cannot tell wherefore?” Winchester: — “Thou art a heretic, and therefore thou shalt be excommunicated.” Woodman: — “I am no heretic, I take heaven and earth to witness; I defy all heretics; and if you condemn me, you will be damned, if you repent not. But God give you grace to repent all, if it be his will.”

    And so he read forth the sentence in Latin, but what he said, God knoweth, and not I. God be judge between them and me! When he had done, I would have talked my mind to them, but they cried, “Away! away with him !” So I was carried to the Marshalsea again, where I am, and shall be as long as it shall please God. And [praise God most heartily, that ever he hath elected and predestinated me to come to so high dignity as to bear rebuke for his name’s sake; his name be praised there-for, for ever and ever.

    Amen.

    And thus have you the examinations of this blessed Woodman, or rather Goodman; wherein may appear as well the great grace and wisdom of God in that man, as also the gross ignorance and barbarous cruelty of his adversaries, especially of Dr. White, bishop of Winchester. Now followeth likewise the effect of his letter.

    A GODLY LETTER OF RICHARD WOODMAN, WRITTEN TO A CHRISTIAN WOMAN, MISTRESS ROBERTS OF HAWKHURST.

    Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father, and from his Son our alone Savior Jesus Christ, by the operation and working of the Holy Ghost, be multiplied plenteously upon you, dear sister Roberts, that you may the more joyfully bear the cross of Christ that ye are under, unto the end, to your only comfort and consolation, and to all our brethren and sisters that are round about you, both now and ever. Amen.

    In my most humble wise I commend me unto you, and to all our brethren and sisters in those parts, that love our Lord unfeignedly, certifying you, that I and all my brethren with me are merry and joyful, we praise God there-for, looking daily to be dissolved from these our mortal bodies, (Philippians 1.) according to the good pleasure of our heavenly Father; praising God also for your constancy, and gentle benevolence, that you have showed unto God’s elect people, in this troublesome time of persecution, which may be a sure pledge and token of God’s good will and favor towards you, and to all others that hear thereof; for blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. (Matthew 5.) Wherefore the fruits declare alway what the tree is; for a good man or woman, out of the good treasure of their heart, bring forth good things. (Matthew 7.)

    Wherefore, dear sister, it is not as many affirm in these days (the more it is to be lamented), that say God asketh but a man’s heart; which is the greatest injury that can be devised, against God and his word. For St. James saith, “Show me thy faith by thy deeds, and I will show thee my faith by my deeds;” (James 2) saying, the devils have faith, and tremble for fear, and yet shall be but devils still, because their minds were never to do good. Let us not therefore be like them, but let our faith be made manifest to the whole world by our deeds; and in the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, as St.

    Paul saith, let our light shine as in a dark place. (Philippians 2.)

    O dear hearts! now is the gospel of God overwhelmed with many black and troublesome clouds of persecution, for the which cause very few go about to have their eyes made clear by the true light of the gospel, for fear of losing of the treasures of this world, which are but vain and shall perish. Let not us therefore be like unto them which light their candle, and put it under a bushel; but let us set our candle upon a candlestick, that it may give light unto all them that are in the house; (Matthew 5.) that is to say, let all the people of the household of God see our good works, in suffering all things patiently that shall be laid upon us for the gospel’s sake, if it be death itself. For Christ died for us, leaving us an example, that we should follow his steps; and as he hath given his life for us, so ought we to give our lives for the defense of the gospel, to the comfort of our brethren.

    How is it, then, that some will say that their faith is good; and yet they do all the deeds of antichrist the devil, and be not ashamed to allege certain scriptures to maintain their wickedness? St. Paul saith, to believe with the heart justifieth, and to confess with the mouth maketh a man safe. (Romans 10.) O good God! here may all men see, that no man or woman can have a true faith, unless they have deeds also; and he that doubteth, is like the waves of the sea tossed about of the wind, and can look for no good thing at the Lord’s hands. May not a man judge all such to be like those which St. John speaketh of, that be neither hot nor cold; and therefore God will (he saith) spew them out of his mouth? (Revelation 3.) If we judge evil of such, have not they given us occasion? Had it not been better for them to have had a millstone tied about their necks, and to have been cast into the sea (Matthew 18.) than they should give such offences to God’s elect people in condemning them as they do, in going to the synagogues of Satan, and there to receive the mark of the beast: (Revelation 13.) in that they see and hear God blasphemed there, and hold their peace? Doth not that declare to the whole world, that they allow their doings to be good? And these do not only defile themselves, but also be an occasion to confirm the papists in their papistry, and so be an occasion of our weak brother’s falling, the which will be all required at their hands; which will be too heavy a burden for them to bear, if they repent it not with speed. For they that know their Master’s will, anal do it not, shall be beaten with many stripes. (Luke 12.) Oh! do not we perceive, that now is the acceptable time that Christ speaketh of? yea even now is the axe put to the roots of the trees, so that every tree that bringeth not forth good fruits now, must be hewn down, and cast into the fire. (Matthew 3.)

    Now is the Lord come with his fan in his hand, to try the wheat from the chaff. The wheat will he gather into his barn, and the chaff he will burn, as is aforesaid. Now is the time come, that we must go meet the Bridegroom with oil in our lamps. (Matthew 25.) We are also bidden to the feast; let us make no excuses. Yea our Master hath delivered his talents unto us, God give us grace to occupy them well, that at his coming he may receive his own with vantage. (Luke 19.) Yea, now is the Lord come, to see if there be any fruit upon his trees: so that if the Lord come and find none, he will serve us, as he did the wild fig-tree; that is, never fruit shall grow on him more. (Luke 13.) Also, if we go to meet the Bridegroom without oil in our lamps, and should go to buy, the doubt is, we should be served as were the foolish virgins; that was, God said to them, Depart, I know you not. Or if we should make excuses to come to the feast, others shall be bidden in our rooms. (Matthew 22.) If we occupy not our talents well, they shall be taken from us and given to others, and all such unprofitable servants shall be cast into prison in hell, where shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Matthew 22.)

    O good God! what a sort of fearful sayings are here contained: what christian heart will not hearken diligently hereto! O may not all people well perceive now, that this is the time that our Master Christ speaketh of, (Matthew 10.) that the father should be against the son, and the son against the father, and one brother against another, that the brother shall deliver the brother to death: yea, and that the wicked shall say all manner of wicked sayings against us for his name’s sake? (Matthew 5.) the which I have well found by experience, I praise God there-for, that hath given me strength to bear it: for I think there can be no evil devised, but it hath been imagined against me, and that of my familiar friends, as David saith.

    But I praise my Lord God, they are not able to prove any of their sayings true, but that they go about to find fault in them that God hath chosen, because they themselves list not to take up their cross and follow Christ; and therefore they speak evil of the tiling that they know not, the which shall give account for it before Him that is ready to judge both the quick and the dead.

    But my trust is, that all the people of God will be ruled by the counsel of St. John, saying, “My sheep will hear my voice; strangers they will not hear:” (John 10.) meaning thereby, that ye should not believe strangers; counting them strangers, that go about to subvert the gospel. Wherefore mark well what they be, and try them well or ever you give credit to them, according to St. John’s counsel, in his Epistle, saying, “Believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of God, or not;” (1 John 4.) meaning thereby, that they that be not of God, will speak good of none but of them, that be as they be. Wherefore, dear sister, be of good cheer, and give no credit to such people, whatsoever ye hear them say. For I have no mistrust by God’s help, but that all the world shall see and know that my blood shall not be dear in mine own sight, whensoever it shall please God to give my adversaries leave to shed it. I do earnestly believe, that God which hath begun this good work in me, will perform it to the end, as he hath given me grace and will alway, to bear this easy yoke and light burden; the which I have always found, I praise my Lord God.

    For when I have been in prison, wearing onewhile bolts, otherwhile shackles, otherwhile lying on the bare ground; sometime sitting in the stocks; sometime bound with cords, that all my body hath been swollen; much like to be overcome for the pain that hath been in my flesh; sometime fain to lie without in the woods and fields, wandering to and fro; few, I say, that durst keep my company for fear of the rulers; sometime brought before the justices, sheriffs, lords, doctors, and bishops; sometime called dog, sometime devil, heretic, whoremonger, traitor, thief, deceiver, with divers other such like; yea, and even they that did eat of my bread, that should have been most my friends by nature, have betrayed me. Yet, for all this, I praise my Lord God that hath separated me from my mother’s womb, all this that hath happened unto me hath been easy, light, and most delectable and joyful of any treasure that ever I possessed; for I praise God they are not able to prove one jot or tittle of their sayings true. But that way that they call heresy, I serve my Lord God; and at all times, before whomsoever I have been brought, God hath given me mouth and wisdom, whereagainst all my adversaries have not been able to resist, I praise God there-for.

    Wherefore, dear sister, be of good comfort with all your brethren and sisters; and take no thought what you shall say, for it shall be given you the same hour, according to the promises, (Luke 21.

    Matthew 10.) as I have always found, and as you and all other of God’s elect shall well find, when the time is full come. And whereas I and many others have hoped, that this persecution would have been at an end ere this time, now I perceive, God will have a further trial to root out all dissemblers, that no man should rejoice in himself, but he that rejoiceth, shall rejoice in God.

    Wherefore if prophecy should fail, and tongues should cease, vet love must endure. (1 Corinthians 13.) For fear hath painfulness, but a perfect love casteth out all fear; which love I have no mistrust but God hath poured it upon you so abundantly, that nothing in the world shall be able to separate you from God. (Romans 8.) Neither high nor low, rich nor poor, life nor death, shall be able to put you from Christ; but by him I trust you shall enter into new Jerusalem, there to live for ever, beholding the glory of God with the same eyes that you now have, and all other faithful people that continue to the end. Give all honor and glory to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God, to be honored now and ever, Amen.

    After these examinations thus had and commenced between Richard Woodman and the bishops, he was (as is afore told) judged by sentence of condemnation, and so deprived of his life. With Woodman also were burnt nine others; to wit, five men and four women, which were taken not past two or three days before their judgment; the names of all which being also before expressed, here again follow in this order: Richard Woodman, George Stevens, William Mainard, Alexander Hosman his servant, Thomasin Wood his maid, Margery Moris, James Moris her son, Dennis Burgis, Ashdon’s wife, Grove’s wife. These persons here above- named, and blessed martyrs, were put to death at Lewes the 22d of June. Of the which number the eight last were apprehended (as is said) either the same day, or the second or third day before, and so with the said Woodman and Stevens were together committed to the fire; in which space no writ could come down from London to the justices, for their burning. Wherefore what is to be said to such justices, or what reckoning they will make to God and to the laws of this realm, I refer that to them, that have to do in the matter.

    The like whereof is to be found also of other justices, who, without any lawful writ of discharge or order of law, have unlawfully and disorderly burnt the servants of Christ (whose blood the law both may and also ought to revenge), especially at Salisbury, and at Canterbury, and Guernsey. But concerning these matters, though man’s law do wink, or rather sleep at them, yet they shall be sure God’s law will find such murderers out at length. I pray God the doers may repent betime.

    ONE AMBROSE, A CONFESSOR, WHO DIED IN MAIDSTONE PRISION.

    After these ten above-named, burnt at Lewes, about the same time and month one Ambrose died in Maidstone-prison, who else should have been burnt in the like cause and quarrel as the others were.

    THE CONDEMNATION AND MARTYRDOM OF RICHARD LUSH.

    In the registers of Gilbert, bishop of Bath and Wells, I find a certificate :made to king Philip and queen Mary, of one Richard Lush, there condemned and given to the secular power to be burnt for the cause of heresy, whose affirmations in the said certificate be expressed in tenor and effect as followeth: - ARTICLES AGAINST RICHARD LUSH.

    First , for denying the verity of the body and blood of Christ in the sacrament of the altar. 2. Item, For denying auricular confession to be made to the priest. 3. Item, For affirming only to be three sacraments; to wit, of Baptism, of the Supper, and of Matrimony. 4. Item, For refusing to call the Lord’s Supper by the name of the sacrament of the altar. 5. Item, For denying Purgatory; and that prayer and alms profit not the dead. 6. Item, That images are not to be suffered in the church; and that all that kneel to images at the church, be idolaters. 7. Item, That they which were burnt of ]ate for religion, died God’s servants and good martyrs. 8. Item, For condemning the single life of priests, and other votaries. 9. Item, For denying the universal and catholic church; meaning belike the church of Rome.

    For these assertions, as there are expressed, he was condemned and committed to the sheriffs, and also a certificate directed by the bishop aforesaid, to the king and queen: whereby we have apparently to understand, that the said Richard Lush, thus condemned by bishop Bourn, was there burnt and executed, unless peradventure in the mean season he died, or was made away in the prison; whereof I have no certainty to express.

    A NOTE OF JOHN HULLIER, MINISTER AND MARTYR, BURNT AT CAMBRIDGE. f360 Concerning the story of John Hullier martyr, partly mentioned before, for the more full declaration of the death and martyrdom of that good man, because the story is but rawly and imperfectly touched before; for the more perfecting thereof, I thought thereunto to add that, which since hath come to my hand, as followeth.

    First, John Hullier was brought up at Eton college; and after, according to the foundation of that house, for that he was ripe for the university, he was elected scholar in the King’s college, where also, not tarrying full three years of probation before he was fellow of the college, he after a little season was one of the ten conducts in the King’s college, which was anno 1539.

    Then at length, in process of time he came to be curate of Babraham, three miles from Cambridge, and so went afterward to Lynn; where he, having divers conflicts with the papists, was from thence carried to Ely, to Dr.

    Thirleby, then bishop there; who, after divers examinations, sent him to Cambridge-castle, where he remained but a while. From thence he was conveyed to the town-prison, commonly called the Tolbooth, lying there almost a quarter of a year, while at length he was cited to appear at Great St. Mary’s on Palm-sunday eve, before divers doctors, both divines and lawyers, amongst whom was chiefest Dr. Shaxton; also Dr. Young, Dr.

    Segewick, Dr. Scot, Mitch, and others; where after examination had, for that he would not recant, he was first condemned, the sentence being read by Dr. Fuller.

    Then consequently he was degraded after their popish manner, with scraping crown and hands. When they had degraded him, he said cheerfully, “This is the joyfullest day that ever I saw; and I thank you all, that ye have delivered and lightened me of all this paltry.”

    In the mean time, whilst it was doing, one standing by asked Hullier what book he had in his hand; who answered, “A testament :” whereat this man in a rage took it and threw it violently from him. Then was he given over to the secular powers, Brasey being mayor, who, carrying him to prison again, took from him all his books, writings, and papers.

    On Maundy-Thursday coming to the stake, he exhorted the people to pray for him, and after holding his peace, and praying to himself, one spake to him, saying, “The Lord strengthen thee :” whereat a sergeant, named Brisley, stayed and bade him hold his tongue, or else he should repent it. Nevertheless Hullier answered and said either thus or very like (the effect was all one), “Friend, I trust that as God hath hitherto begun, so also he will strengthen me, and finish his work upon me. I am bidden to a Maundy, whither I trust to go, and there to be shortly. God hath laid the foundation, as I by his aid will end it.”

    Then going to a stool (prepared for him to sit on), to have his hosen plucked off, he desired the people to pray for him again, and also to bear witness that he died in the right faith, and that he would seal it with his blood; certifying them, that he died in a just cause, and for the testimony of the verity and truth, and that there was no other rock: but Jesus Christ to build upon, under whose banner he fought, and whose soldier he was; and yet speaking, he turned himself about toward the east, and exhorted the people there likewise.

    Now it chanced on a bank to stand three arch-papists, George Boyes, Henry Barley, and Gray; all three of Trinity college. This Boyes was; one of the proctors of the university that year; a192 to whom master Gray spake, saying, “Hear ye not, master proctor, what blasphemy this fellow uttereth? Surely it is evil done to suffer him.” At whose words, this Boyes spake with a loud voice: “Master mayor! what mean ye? If ye suffer him thus to talk at liberty, I tell ye the council shall hear of it, and we take you not to be the queen’s friend. He is a pernicious person, and may do more harm than you wet of.” Whereat simple Hullier, as meek as a lamb, taking the matter very patiently, made no answer, but made him ready, uttering his prayer. Which done, he went meekly himself to the stake, and with chains being bound, was beset with reed and wood, standing in a pitchbarrel; and the fire being set to, not marking the wind, it blew the flame to his back. Then he feeling it, began earnestly to call upon God. Nevertheless his friends, perceiving the fire to be ill-kindled, caused the sergeants to turn it, and fire it to that place where the wind might blow it to his face.

    That done, there was a company of books which were cast into the fire; and by chance a communion-book fell between his hands, who receiving it joyfully opened it, and read so long as the force of the flame and smoke caused him that he could see no more. And then he fell again to prayer, holding his hands up to heaven, and the book betwixt his arms next his heart, thanking God for sending him it. And at that time, the day being a very fair day and a hot, yet the wind was somewhat up, and it caused the fire to be the fiercer; and when all the people thought he had been dead, he suddenly uttered these words, “Lord Jesus! receive my spirit;” dying very meekly.

    The place where he was burned, is called Jesus-green, not far from Jesus college. Seagar gave him certain gunpowder, but little to the purpose; for he was dead before it took fire. All the people prayed for him, and many a tear was shed for him; which the papists seeing, cried, “he was not to be prayed for; and being but a damned man, it could profit him nothing.”

    Nevertheless they continued praying; whereat the papists fell into such a rage, that they menaced them with terrible threatenings to ward.

    His flesh being consumed, his bones stood upright even as if they had been alive. Of the people, some took what they could get of him, as pieces of bones. One had his heart, the which was distributed so far as it would go; one took the scalp, and looked for the tongue, but it was consumed except the very root. — One rounded him in the ear, and desired him to be constant to the end; at which he spoke nothing, but showed a joyful countenance, and so continued both constant and joyful to the end.

    A NOTE OF THOMAS READ. f361 Thomas Read (who was burnt at Lewes, as it appeareth above), before he was in prison, determined with himself to go to church. The night following he saw a vision, a company of tall young men in white, very pleasant to behold; to whom he would have joined himself, but it would not be. Then he looked on himself, and he was full of spots: and therewith waked, and took hold, and stood to the truth; God be thanked there-for!

    And so constantly was burned with his fellows, as is above specified.

    THE BURNING OF SIMON MILLER AND ELIZABETH COOPER, AT NORWICH.

    In the month of July, next ensued the martyrdom of Simon Miller and Elizabeth Cooper. This Simon dwelling in the town of Lynn, a godly and zealous man in the knowledge of the Lord and of his truth, detesting and abhorring the contrary enforced religion then set forth, came from Lynn to Norwich, where he, standing in the press, and hearing of the people, coming out the same time from their popish, service ended in the church, began to ask them coming out of the church, where he might go to have the communion. At which words, divers much marveling to hear and see his boldness, one that was an evil disposed papist hearing the same, said, that if he would needs go to a communion, he would go bring him thither where he should be sped of his purpose. Whereupon, shortly after, he was brought to the chancellor of Norwich, whose name was Dunning, who, after a few words, and small talk passed with this examinate, committed him to ward.

    In the meanwhile as he was in examination, he had in his shoe, his confession, written in a certain paper, whereof a piece appearing above his shoe, was spied and taken out. The chancellor asking if he would stand to the confession of the same faith therein contained, he constantly affirmed the same; whereupon, as is said, he was committed. Thus the said Simon being in the bishop’s house, under custody of the keeper there, called master Felow, how it happened it is not certain, whether by gentleness of the keeper (who was somewhat gentle that ways), or by leave given of the bishop, or else whether he had condescended of a purpose to their articles, he was dismissed, and went home to his house at Lynn; where he continued a certain space, while he had disposed and set there all things in order.

    That done, he returned again to the bishop’s house to his prison and keeper, till the time. At length he, constantly abiding in his professed purpose, and defense of God’s truth, was, by the said bishop and his chancellor, condemned and committed to the fire about the l3th day of July.

    With this Simon Miller also was burnt one Elizabeth Cooper (as is aforesaid) a pewterer’s wife, dwelling in St. Andrew’s parish, in Norwich, where she had before recanted; and being unquiet for the same, and greatly troubled inwardly, at the last she came into the said St. Andrew’s church, the people being at their popish service; and there standing in the same, said she revoked her recantation before made in that place, and was heartily sorry that ever she did it, willing the people not to be deceived, neither to take her doings before for an example, etc. These, or such like words, she Spoke in the church.

    Then cried one Bacon a193 of the said parish, laying his arms abroad, saying, “Master sheriff! will you suffer this?” and repeating the same, urged him to go from the church to her house, at whose knocking she came down, and was taken and sent to prison.

    The sheriff (named master Thomas Sutton) and she, had been servants together before in one house, and for the friendship he bare unto her, and the more for the gospel’s sake, he was very loth to do it, but that he was enforced by those other persons before specified, much against his own conscience, which he now earnestly repenteth.

    This good woman being condemned, and at the stake with Simon Miller, to be burnt, when the fire came unto her, she a little shrank thereat, with a voice crying, “Hah!” When the said Simon Miller heard the same, he put his hand behind him toward her, and willed her to be strong and of good cheer: “for, good sister,” said he, “we shall have a joyful and a sweet supper:” whereat she, being as it seemed thereby strengthened, stood as still and as quiet as one most glad to finish that good work which before most happily she had begun. So, in fine, she ended her life with her companion joyfully, committing her soul into the hands of Almighty God; *unto whose mercy I commit thee, good reader. Amen.* THE MARTYRDOM OF TEN FAITHFUL AND BLESSED MARTYRS, FIVE MEN AND FIVE WOMEN, BURNT AT COLCHESTER, FIVE IN THE FORENOON, AND FIVE IN THE AFTERNOON, FOR THE TESTIMONY AND WITNESS OF CHRIST JESUS AND HIS GLORIOUS GOSPEL.

    As it is no new thing in those whom we call prelates and priests of the church, to be raisers-up of persecution against Christ and his poor flock; so it is much to be marveled, or rather lamented, that noble persons, and men of honor and worship, would be made such ministers, to serve the affections of these tyrants, as commonly, as well in all the sorrowful days of the late queen Mary, as namely in this present story is to be marked . a194 And first thou rememberest, gentle reader, how mention was made a little before of twenty-two which were sent up prisoners together from Colchester to London by the earl of Oxford, the lord Darey, master Tyrrel of St. Osyth’s, and other commissioners and justices, etc.; the which twenty-two, as is aforesaid, through a gentle submission put unto them, were afterward released and delivered.

    In the number of these foresaid twenty-two, was one William Mount, of Much Bentley, in Essex, husbandman, with Alice his wife, and Rose Allin, maid, the daughter of the said Alice Mount; which coming home again to their house at Much Bentley aforesaid, refrained themselves from the unsavory service of the popish church, and frequented the company of good men and women, which gave themselves diligently to reading, invocating and calling upon the name of God through Christ; whereby they so fretted the wicked priest of the town, called sir Thomas Tye, and others like unto him, that casting their heads together, they made a pestilent supplication to the lord Darcy, in the name of the whole parish, the tenor whereof hereafter followeth.

    THE MANNER OF A SUPPLICATION TO THE LORD DARCY, AND BY HIM DELIVERED TO SIR JOHN KINGSTON, PRIEST AND COMMISSARY.

    Pleaseth it your honorable lordship to be advertised, that we confess, whilst your good lordship lay here in the country, the people were stayed in good order, to our great comfort. But, since your lordship’s departure, they have made digression from good order in some places, and namely in the parish of Much Bentley, by reason of three seditious persons, William Mount and his wife, and Rose her daughter, who, by their colorable submission (as it doth appear), were dismissed and sent down from the bishop of London; and since their coming home they have not only in their own persons showed manifest signs and tokens of disobedience, in not coming to the church, nor yet observing other good orders, but also most maliciously and seditiously have seduced many from coming to the church, and from obeying all other good orders; mocking also those that frequent the church, and calling them church-owls, and blasphemously calling the blessed sacrament of the altar a blind god, with divers such like blasphemies. In consideration whereof, may it please your honor (for the love of God, and for the tender zeal your good lordship beareth to justice, and the common peace and quietness of the king and queen’s majesties’ loving subjects) to award out your warrant for the said William Mount, his wife, and Rose her daughter, that they being attached and brought before your good lordship, we trust the rest will fear to offend (their ringleaders of sedition being apprehended), to the quietness of other obedient subjects.

    Your daily orators, the Parishioners of Much Bentley, Thomas Tye, priest, John Carter, Thomas Candler, John Barker, Richard Mere, J. Painter, William Harris, John Richard, with others.

    This being done, the said sir Thomas Tye bethought with himself, where the persecuted did resort. For, in the beginning of queen Mary’s reign, for a twelvemonth and more he came not to the church, but frequented the company of godly men and women, which abstained from the same; and as they thought, he labored to keep a good conscience: but the sequel showed him to be a false brother.

    Now, as I said, he, partly knowing the places of refuge for honest men, did further inquire of other men about the same: and, being thereof sufficiently (as he thought) instructed to his purpose, immediately about the time the supplication above specified was exhibited to the said lord Darcy, wrote secretly a letter to Bonner, bishop of London, wherein he maketh his account how he had bestowed his time, and complained of divers honest men, among which was the said William Mount and his company; the tenor of which letter hereafter followeth.

    A LETTER SENT TO BONNER, BISHOP OF LONDON, FROM SIR THOMAS TYE, PRIEST.

    Right honorable lord, after my bounden duty done in most humble wise, these shall be to signify unto your lordship the state of our parties, concerning religion. And first, since the coming down of the twenty-two rank heretics dismissed from you, the detestable sort of schismatics were never so bold since the king and queen’s majesties’ reign, as they are now at this present. In Much Bentley, where your lordship is patron of the church, since William Mount, and Alice his wife, with Rose Allin her daughter came home, they do not only absent themselves from the church, and service of God, but do daily allure many other away from the same, which before did outwardly show signs and tokens of obedience.

    They assemble together upon the Sabbath day in the time of divine service, sometimes in one house, sometimes in another, and there keep their privy conventicles, and schools of heresy. The jurats say, the lords’ commission is out, and they are discharged of their oath. The question in your archdeacon’s visitation alleged, that forasmuch as they were once presented, and now sent home, they have no more to do with them nor none other. Your officers say (namely master Boswell), that the council sent them not home without a great consideration. I pray God some of your officers prove not favorers of heretics. The rebels are stout in the town of Colchester.

    The ministers of the church are hemmed at in the open streets, and called knaves. The blessed sacrament of the altar is blasphemed and railed upon in every alehouse and tavern. Prayer and fasting is not regarded. Seditious talks and news are rife, both in town and country, in as ample and large manner, as though there, had no honorable lords and commissioners been sent for reformation thereof. The occasion riseth partly by reason of John Love of Colchester-heath, a perverse place; which John Love was twice indicted of heresy; and thereupon fled with his wife and household, and his goods seized within the town of Colchester, to the king and queen’s majesties’ use. Nevertheless the said John is come home again, and nothing said or done to him. Whereupon the heretics are wonderfully encouraged, to the no little discomfort of good and catholic people, which daily pray to God for the profit, unity, and restoration of his church again: which thing shall come the sooner to pass, through the travail and pains of such honorable lords and reverend fathers as your lordship is, unto whom I wish long life and continuance, with increase of much honor. From Colchester, the 18th of December.

    Your humble beadsman, Thomas Tye , priest. *An Account made to your good Lordship, how I have bestowed the time since my Departure from you.

    The second Sunday after the feast of the blessed Trinity, I heard master Feckenham preach at Paul’s Cross; the next day after I departed out of the city of London towards Much Wakering. The third Sunday after Trinity I preached at Much Wakering. The fourth Sunday I preached at Harwich, and reconciled, there, twelve, persons to the unity of the church. The fifth Sunday I preached at Wakering magna; the sixth Sunday at Wakering magna; the seventh Sonday at Langenho; the eighth Sonday at Pehtone; the ninth Sonday at Wakering magna; the tenth Sunday the axis f364 took me a195 ; the eleventh Sonday I preached at Much Bentley.

    Here followeth a mischievous information of a wicked priest to Bonner against good men.

    THE PRINCIPAL TEACHERS OF HERETICAL DOCTRINE IN LONDON, BY STEPHEN MORRIS’S CONFESSION.

    The first, master Laurence of Barnhall, John Barry, his servant; and John Jeffrey, brother-in-law to master Laurence: these three do lie and abide, when they be in London, at an alehouse in Cornhill, f365 over against the conduit: the man’s name is John Dudmall. These three are the greatest, and do most harm in persuading the people.

    Robert Coles and his wife, John Ledley and his wife, William Punt, a bachelor: these three do lie at the sign of the Bell in Gracechurchstreet, in a common inn. And two of those, namely, John Ledley, and Robert Coles, are great counselors, and do resort much unto the King’s Bench, unto the prisoners, about matters of religion. The other, namely William Punt, is and hath been a great writer of devilish and erroneous books of certain men’s doings; and doth convey them over, and causeth them there to be imprinted, to the great hurt of the ignorant people; as it is to be proved. For upon Palm Sonday last, he had in his bosom a certain book against the sect of the Anabaptists, and, as he was arriving upon the Thames towards Gray’s, there he did read it; and had shipped at that present, by report, and as due proof is to be had by these two men, Robert Coles and John Ledley (for they were his council, in conveying of them over), to the value of a barrel-full of books. This I do know; for I partly knew all their doings in that viage. And the said Robert and John went over at the same time, about questions of religion, to the learned that were over, to know their counsel in those matters, and so to turn back again upon the same. Thus much I know to be their doings.

    John Kempe and Henry Hart: these two do lie at the bridge-foot, in a cutlet’s house whose name is Curie; and namely Henry Hart, is the principal of all those that are called free-will men: for so they are termed of the Predestinators. And he hath drawn out thirteen articles to be observed amongst his company, and, as far as I do learn, there come none into their brotherhood except he be sworn.

    The other is a great traveler abroad into Kent, and what his doctrine is, I am not able to say.

    Master Pulleyne, otherwise called Smith; Simond Harlestone and William, a Scot. These three were preachers in king Edward’s days, and their most abiding is at Colchester in Essex; and most commonly they do lie at the King’s Head in Colchester. And these two, namely Master Pulleyrie and the Scot, do often travel over to the duchess of Suffolk (for they were her chaplains), and what their doings are there, I know not. And as for Simon Harlestone, his abiding is alway at a place in Essex called Dedham, a four miles from Colchester, a196 at one Harris’s house, a tucker and he is a great persuader of the people, and they do mightily build upon his doctrine. If these, or any other, do resort unto London, at the ale-house in Cornhill there will be news of them, for there is much resort unto that house.* When Judasly this wicked priest had thus wrought his malice against the people of God, within a while after the storm began to arise against those poor persecuted, William Mount and his company, whereby they were enforced to hide themselves from the heat thereof. And continuing so a little space, at last, the 7th day of March, anno 1557, being the first Sunday in Lent, and by two of the clock in the morning, one master Edmund Tyrrel (who came of the house of those Tyrrels which murdered king Edward the fifth and his brother) took with him the bailiff of the hundred called William Simuel, dwelling in Colchester, and the two constables of Much Bentley aforesaid, named John Baker and William Harris, with divers others a great number; and besetting the house of the said William Mount round about, called to them at length to open the door: which being done, master Tyrrel with certain of his company a198 went into the chamber where the said father Mount and his wife lay, willing them to rise: “for,” said he, “you must go with us to Colchester castle.”

    Mother Mount, hearing that, being very sick, desired that her daughter might first fetch her some drink; for she was (she said) very ill at ease.

    Then he gave her leave and bade her go. So her daughter the forenamed Rose Allin, maid, took a stone pot in one hand, and a candle in the other, and went to draw drink for her mother: and as she came back again through the house, Tyrrel met her, and willed her to give her father and mother good counsel, and advertise them to be better catholic people. a199 Rose: — “Sir, they have a better instructor than I; for the Holy Ghost doth teach them, I hope, which I trust will not suffer them to err.” “Why,” said master Tyrrel, “art thou still in that mind, thou naughty housewife? Marry it is time to look upon such heretics indeed.” Rose: — “Sir, with that which you call heresy, do I worship my Lord God; I tell you troth.” Tyrrel: — “Then I perceive you will burn, gossip, with the rest, for company’s sake.” Rose: — “No, sir, not for company’s sake, but for my Christ’s sake, if so I be compelled; and I hope in his mercies if he call me to it, he will enable me to bear it.”

    So he, turning to his company, said, “Sirs, this gossip will burn: do you not think it?” “Marry, sir,” quoth one, “prove her, and you shall see what she will do by and by.”

    Then that cruel Tyrrel, taking the candle from her, held her wrist, and the burning candle under her hand, burning cross-wise over the back thereof so long, till the very sinews cracked asunder. Witness hereof William Candler, then dwelling in Much Bentley, who was there present and saw it. Also Mistress Bright of Romford, with Ann Starkey her maid, to whom Rose Allin also both declared the same; and the said Mistress Bright also ministered salve for the curing thereof, as she lay in her house at Romford going up towards London with other prisoners. In which time of his tyranny, he said often to her, “Why, whore! wilt thou not cry? Thou young whore! wilt thou not cry?” Unto which always she answered, that she had no cause, she thanked God, but rather to rejoice. He had (she said) more cause to weep, than she, if he considered the matter well. In the end, when the sinews (as I said) brake, that all the house heard them, he then thrust her from him violently, and said, “Ah! strong whore; thou shameless beast! thou beastly whore !” etc. with such like vile words.

    But she, quietly suffering his rage for the time, at the last said, “Sir, have ye done what ye will do?” And he said, “Yea, and if thou think it be not well, then mend it.” “Mend it!” said Rose; “nay, the Lord mend you, and give you repentance, if it be his will. And now, if you think it good, begin at the feet, and burn to the head also. For he that set you a work, shall pay you your wages one day, I warrant you.” And so she went and carried her mother drink, as she was commanded.

    Furthermore, after the searching of the house for more company, at the last they found one John Thurston and Margaret his wife there also, whom they carried with the rest to Colchester castle immediately.

    And this said Rose Allin being prisoner, told a friend of hers this cruel act of the said Tyrrel; and showing him the manner thereof, she said, “While my one hand,” quoth she, was a burning, I, having a pot in my other hand, might have laid him on the face with it, if I had would; for no man held my hand to let me therein. But, I thank God,” quoth she, “with all my heart, I did it not.”

    Also being asked of another, how she could abide the painful burning of her hand, she said, at first it was some grief to her, but afterward, the longer she burned, the less she felt, or well near none at all.

    And because master Tyrrel shall not go alone in this kind of cruelty, you shall hear another like example of a blind harper’s hand burnt by bishop Bonner, as is testified by the relation of Valentine Dingley, sometime gentleman to the said bishop, who declared before credible witness, as followeth. How the said bishop Bonner, having this blind harper before him, Spoke thus unto him: that such blind abjects which follow a sort of heretical preachers, when they come to the feeling of the fire, will be the first that will fly from it.

    To whom the blind man said, that if every joint of him were burnt, yet he trusted in the Lord not to fly. Then Bonner, signifying privily to certain of his men about him what they should do, they brought to him a burning coal; which coal being put into the poor man’s hand, they closed it fast again, and so was his hand piteously burnt. Amongst the doers whereof was the said master Valentine Dingley, witness and reporter hereof, as is declared.

    We read in the story of Titus Livius of king Porsena, who, after the burning of the right hand of Mucius Scaevola, which came purposely to kill him, being only contented therewith, sent him home to Rome again.

    But thus to burn the hands of poor men and women which never meant any harm unto them, and yet not contented with that, but also to consume their whole bodies without any just cause, we find no example of such barbarous tyranny, neither in Titus Livius, neither in any other story amongst the heathen.

    But to return to our Colchester martyrs again, as touching William Mount and his wife, and burning of their daughter Rose Allin’s hand, sufficient hath been declared. With the said William Mount and his family, was joined also in the same prison at Colchester another faithtful brother, named John Johnson, alias Aliker, of Thorpe, in the county of Essex, laborer, of the age of four and thirty years, having no wife alive, but three young children, who also were with them indicted of heresy, and so all these four lay together in Colchester castle.

    The other six prisoners lay in Mote-hall, in the said town of Colchester, whose names were: first, William Bongeor, of the parish of St. Nicholas, in Colchester, glazier, of the age of sixty years. 2. Thomas Benold, of Colchester, tallow-chandler. 3. William Pureas, of Bocking, in the county of Essex, fuller, a young man, of the age of twenty years. 4. Agnes Silverside, alias Smith, dwelling in Colchester, widow, of the age of sixty years. 5. Helen Ewring, the wife of John Ewring, miller, dwelling in Colchester, of the age of forty-five years or thereabouts, who was one of the twenty-two prisoners mentioned before, sent up in bands from Colchester to London; and after being delivered with the rest, repaired home to Colchester again to her husband, where notwithstanding she enjoyed her liberty not very long; for shortly after her return, met with her one Robert Mainard, then bailiff of Colchester, a special enemy to God’s gospel, who, spying her, came to her, and kissed her, and bade her welcome home from London. Unto whom she considerately answered again, and said, that it was but a Judas’ kiss: “for in the end,” quoth she, “I know you will betray me;” as indeed it came to pass, for immediately after that talk she was apprehended by him again, and there *laid* with the rest a200 in the town prison (as is aforesaid), called the Mote-hall; where she remained till her death. 6. The sixth of this company was Elizabeth Folkes, a young maid, and servant in Colchester, of the age of twenty years. These six were imprisoned in the town prison of Colchester, called Mote-hall, as the other four, above specified, were in the castle. *In the time of the persecution of those persons above named, were certain constant faithful brethren and cistern examined in Mote-hall, at Colchester, by sir John Kingston, commissary, master Roper, and one master Boswell, the bishop’s scribe, the 19th day of October, anno 1556; whose depositions the said Boswell penned after his manner, and, in a letter close-sealed, sent them to Bonner, bishop of London, the 24th day of the said month, in the year aforesaid. the tenor of which letter hereafter followeth, with their depositions and answers that stood faithfully unto the same, as they were written to the bishop, verbatim. The others I leave, and think it sufficient that the letter speaketh, for oppressing the book with such frivolous matter.

    A LETTER TO BONNER, BISHOP OF LONDON, BY HIS SCRIBE.

    My duty and most humble commendations premised unto your honorable good lordship, certifying the same, that master Kingston, master Roper, and I, according to your lordship’s letters, dated quinto Octobris, have been at Colchester, and there taken the names, dwelling-places, and opinions, of certain wretched heretics, as by their depositions here enclosed appeareth; which heretics were delivered to master Kingston by indenture, which he keepeth, as he saith, for his indemnity. If your lordship’s letters had not come in time, he had sent them up to London, for, when my servant came to him with the letters, he was then setting them forward. Where the king and queen’s majesties’ honorable council wrote unto your lordship, in their letters dated primo Octobris, that there was delivered to your lordship’s officers twenty-three persons, obstinately persisting in detestable heresies, master Kingston desired me to certify your lordship, that he received but twelve since the 29th of September ast; of the which number he hath reconciled six, viz. Elizabeth Wood, Christian Hare, Rose Fletcher, Joan Kent, Agnes Stanley, and Margaret Simson, so that there is no more remaining but six, whose names and depositions are here enclosed, of the which I suppose there is but three, videlicet, Purcas, Downes, and Johnson, that will persist in their obstinacy. The other three are delivered after a sort, mentioned in their said depositions, and I suppose they will be reconciled.

    It may please your good lordship to be advertised, that I do see by experience, that the sworn inquest for heresies do, most commonly, indict the simple, ignorant, and wretched heretics, and do let the arch-heretics go; which is one great cause that moveth the rude multitude to murmur, when they see the simple wretches (not knowing what heresy is) to burn. I wish, if it may be, that this common disease might be cured amongst the jurats of Essex; but, I fear me, it will not be, so long as some of them be, as they are, infected with the like disease. My duty had been, and my mind was, to have come unto your lordship myself with these things, but being prevented with an ague (daring not, as yet, to take upon me so great a journey), I do send them by master Staunton, your lordship’s receiver; trusting that he will safely deliver them. And, upon further knowledge of your lordship’s pleasure, all things shall be accomplished and done accordingly, to the best of my little power: as knoweth Almighty God, who send your lordship prosperous health and long life, with increase of honor to his pleasure. Amen. From Malden, this 24th of October, anno 1556.

    Your lordship’s poor officer and daily bead-man, John Boswell.* Divers examinations these good men had at sundry times before divers justices, priests, and officers, as master Roper, John Kingston, commissary, John Boswell, priest, and Bonner’s scribe, and others more, whereof the said Boswell made relation to Bishop Bonner, certifying him of their depositions, as is here to be read. * THE DEPOSITIONS, WORD FOR WORD, AS BOSWELL WROTE THEM TO BONNER.

    Robert Pureas, of Booking, in the county of Essex, where he was born, single man, a fuller by his occupation, lettered, twenty years of age, indicted of heresy, being examined saith: that he was not confessed of a long time, nor will he be confessed to any priest. He saith that priests have no power to remit sin. He will not come to the church, nor he will not hear mass; for all that is idolatry. He saith he did receive the supper of the Lord (otherwise called the sacrament of the altar) in king Edward’s time, as it was then set forth; but since that time he hath not nor will not receive it, except it be ministered to him as it was then. He saith that the sacrament of the altar is an idol, as it is now ministered, and they that do worship it are idolaters: for it is but bread and wine only. This fellow is obstinate, and a glorious prating heretic.

    Agnes Downes, alias May, alias Smith, alias Silverside, the relict of one Silver-side, married priest, deceased, dwelling in Colchester, sixty years of age, and above, indicted for heresy, being examined saith: that the supper of the Lord (otherwise called the sacrament of the altar) is but bread and wine before it is received; and when it is received in faith, and ministered by a worthy minister (as they be but few), then it is Christ’s flesh and his blood spiritually, and no otherwise. She saith that the sacrament is an idol, and ought not to be worshipped with knocking, kneeling, nor holding up of hands; for all that is idolatry. She will not come to the church; she will not hear mass; she will not be confessed of any priest; she saith that none can remit sin but only God; she is a froward, obstinate heretic, and willing to burn her old rotten bones.

    John Johnson, alias Aliker, of Thorpe, in the Sokon and county of Essex, laborer, where he was born; having no wife, but three young children; thirty-four years of age, and can read a little, indicted of heresy, being examined saith: that he will not come to the church, nor he will not hear mass; he will not confess his sins to a priest; he saith that no priest can remit sin; be saith that ,the sacrament of the altar is an idol, and can be but bread and wine, as well after the consecration as before: he saith to hear mass, or to worship the sacrament, is idolatry. All this he heard, as he saith one Trodgon preach, and he believeth that the said Trodgon is a true prophet, and his sayings true. This is a very simple obstinate heretic, and a stout foolish daw, without reason.

    Elizabeth Folkes, servant with one Nicholas Clere, of Colchester, clothier, maid; born, as she saith, in Stoke Neyland, in Suffolk, being of the age of twenty years, presented, but not indicted of heresy, being examined saith: that she will not come to the church; she will not hear mass; she will not confess her sins to any priest; she saith that the sacrament of the altar is no better than bread and wine; she saith that no priest hath power to remit sin; she is a tall well-favored young wench, and willing to be reformed: whereupon, at the request of certain of her friends, she is delivered and committed to the safe keeping of one. Henry Ashby, of Colchester, a good catholic man; who hath taken upon him to reconcile her accordingly, or else to feed her with barley bread until she be reconciled &c.

    Here hast thou, good reader, the depositions which the said Boswell sent to bishop Bonner, as is aforesaid. Now, forasmuch as occasion compelleth me to be brief, for sundry considerations, I will therefore return again to the order of our time, anno 1557; and so go forward with the said persecuted in Colchester, with others their poor prison-fellows, to the number of ten, who* last of all, were examined again in Mote-hall, the 23rd day of June, by Dr. Chedsey, John Kingston commissary, with other priests, and Boswell the scribe, in the presence of the two bailiffs of Colchester, Robert Brown and Robert Mainard, with divers other justices both of the town and country, and other gentlemen a great sort; at which time and place, and before the said persons, they had sentence of condemnation read against them, chiefly for not affirming the real presence in the sacrament of their altar. The effect of their words therein was this, or such like, as here followeth.

    FIRST, THE LORD’S FAITHFUL PRISONERS’ IN MOTE-HALL.

    William Bongeor of the parish of St. Nicholas in Colchester, glazier, said, that the sacrament of the altar was bread, is bread, and so remaineth bread; and for the consecration it is not the holier, but rather the worse. To this he did stand; as also against all the rest of their papistical doctrine: and so had sentence read against him, Thomas Benold of Colchester, tallow-chandler, affirmed the like in effect that the said William Bongeor did; and so had sentence also read against him.

    W. Purcas of Boeking said, that when he received the sacrament, he received bread in a holy use, that preacheth the remembrance that Christ died for him, To this he stood, and against other their popish matters: and so also had sentence read against him.

    Agnes Silverside, alias Smith, said, that she loved no consecration. For the bread and wine is rather worse than better thereby, she said. This good old woman answered them with such sound judgment and boldness, to every thing they asked her, that it rejoiced the hearts of many, and ,especially to see the patience of such a reverend old age, against the taunts and checks of her enemies. To this she also stood, and had sentence read against her in like manner.

    Helen Ewring answered the like in effect as the others did, clearly denying all the laws set forth by the pope, with her whole heart.

    This good woman was somewhat thick of hearing, but yet quick in understanding the Lord’s matters, his name therefor be praised! Against her also there was sentence read.

    Elizabeth Folkes the young maiden, being examined whether she believed the presence of Christ’s body to be in the sacrament substantially and really, or no: answered that she believed that it was a substantial lie, and a real lie. At which words the priests and others chafed very much, and asked her again, whether after the consecration there remained not the body of Christ in the sacrament. And she answered, that before consecration and after, it is but bread; and that man blesseth without God’s word, is cursed and abominable by the word, etc. Then they examined her of confession to the priest, of going to church to hear mass, of the authority of the bishop of Rome, etc.; unto all which she answered, that she would neither use nor frequent none of them all, by the grace of God, but utterly did detest and abhor them from the bottom of her heart, and all such trumpery.

    Then read they the sentence of condemnation against her; in which time Dr. Chedsey wept, that the tears trickled down his cheeks. So the sentence being read, she kneeled down on both her knees, lifting up her hands and eyes unto heaven, with fervent prayer in an audible voice, praising God that ever she was born to see that most blessed and happy day, that the Lord would count her worthy to suffer for the testimony of Christ: “and Lord,” said she, “if it be thy will, forgive them that thus have done against me; for they know not what they do.” Then rising up, she exhorted all those on the bench to repentance, especially those who brought her to prison, as Robert Mainard the bailiff, and such like; which Mainard commonly, when he sat in judgment upon life and death, would sit sleeping on the bench many times, so careful was his mind on his office.

    Further, she willed halting gospellers to beware of blood, .for that would cry for vengeance, etc. And in the end she told them all, laying her hand upon the bar, if they did not repent their wicked doings therein, that undoubtedly the very bar would be a witness against them at the day of judgment, that they had there that day shed innocent blood.

    This Elizabeth Folkes, the day before she was condemned, was examined only upon this article,. Whether she believed that there was a catholic church of Christ or no. Unto which she answered, “Yea.” Then was she immediately, by Boswell’s means (the scribe), delivered unto her uncle Holt of the same town of Colchester to keep, who carried her home unto his house: and she being there, might have departed thence many times, if she ‘had would; for there were means offered to convey her away. But she, hearing that some doubted that she had yielded to the pope (although it was most untrue), would in nowise content herself, but wept, and was in such anguish of mind and terror of conscience, that (no remedy) she would to the papists again, for any persuasion that could be. And coming before them at Cosin’s house at the White Hart in Colchester, she was at utter defiance with them and their doctrine; and so had, as you have heard, in, the end a. papistical reward, as the rest of her brethren had.

    William Mount of Much Bentley in Essex, of the age of sixty-one years, said, that the sacrament of the altar was an abominable idol; and that if he should observe any part of their popish proceedings, he should displease God, and bring his curse upon him; and therefore for fear of his vengeance he durst not do it. This good father was examined of many things; but, God be thanked, he stood to the truth, and in the end therefore had sentence of condemnation read against him.

    John Johnson of Thorpe in Essex, widower, of the age of thirty-four years, was examined as the rest, and made answer in such sort as the papists counted him none of theirs, and therefore condemned him with their bloody sentence, as they had done the rest before. This John Johnson affirmed, that in the receiving of the sacrament, according to Christ’s institution, he receiveth the body of Christ spiritually, etc.

    Alice Mount, the wife of the said William Mount, of the age of one-andforty years, being also examined as the rest, said and confirmed the same in effect as her husband did, and was therefore also condemned by their bloody sentence in like manner.

    Rose Allin maid, the daughter of the said Alice Mount, of the age of twenty years, being examined of auricular confession, going to the church to hear mass, of the popish seven sacraments, etc., answered stout]y, that they stank in the face of God, and she durst not have to do with them for her life: neither was she (she said) any member of theirs; for they were the members of Antichrist, and so should have (if they repented not) the reward of Antichrist. Being asked further, what she could say of the see of the bishop of Rome, whether she would obey his authority or no, she answered boldly, that she was none of his. “As for his see,” quoth she, “it is for crows, kites, owls, and ravens to swim in, such as you be; for by the grace of God I shall not swim in that see while I live, neither will I have any thing to do therewith.” Then read they the sentence of condemnation against her, and so sent her unto prison again unto the rest, where she sang with great joy, to the wonder of many.

    Thus these poor condemned lambs, being delivered into the hands of the secular power, were committed again every one unto the prison from whence they came, where they remained with much joy and great comfort (in continual reading, and invocating the name of God), ever looking and expecting the happy day of their dissolution: in which time the cruel papists left not their mischievous attempts against them (although they would seem now to have no more to do with them); for bloody Bonner, whose throat never cried “He,” shortly after got a writ for the burning of the foresaid ten good creatures; and to show the more diligence in the cause, he sent his own trusty man down with it, named Edward Cosin, and with him also his letter for the furtherance of the matter, the 30th day of July, the next month after the condemnation.

    The writ being thus received of the said bailiffs, and they having then no leisure thereabouts, appointed the day of the execution thereof, to be the 2d day of August next following. And because the faithful souls were in two several prisons, as the Castle was for the country, and Mote-hall for the town; therefore, it was agreed among them, that they in Mote-hall should be burnt in the forenoon, and those at the Castle by the sheriff of the shire, in the afternoon, as here thou mayest see it more plain how it come to pass accordingly.

    The 2d day of August, 1557 betwixt six and seven of the clock in the morning, were brought from Mote-hall unto a plat of ground hard by the town-wall of Colchester, on the outward side, William Bongeor, William Purcas, Thomas Behold, Agnes Silverside alias Smith, Helen Ewring, and Elizabeth Folkes, afore-named; which being there, and all things prepared for their martyrdom, at the last these said, constant martyrs kneeled down, and made their humble prayers to God; but not in such sort as they would, for the cruel tyrants would not suffer them; especially one master Clere, among the rest (who sometime had been a gospeller) showed himself very extreme unto them: the Lord give him repentance, if it be his good will, and grace to be a better man! When they had made their prayers, they rose, and made them ready to the fire. And Elizabeth Folkes, when she had plucked off her petticoat, would have given it to her mother (which came and kissed her at the stake, and exhorted her to be strong in the Lord); but the wicked there attending, would not suffer her to give it. Therefore, taking the said petticoat in her hand, she threw it away from her, saying, “Farewell, all the world! farewell Faith! farewell Hope. and so taking the stake in her *arms,* said, “Welcome love!” etc. Now she being at the stake, and one of the officers nailing the chain about her, in the striking *in* of the staple he missed the place, and struck her with a great stroke of the hammer on the shoulder-bone; whereat she suddenly turned her head, lifting up her eyes to the Lord, and prayed smilingly, and gave herself to exhorting the people again.

    When all the six were also nailed likewise at their stakes, and the fire about them, they clapped their hands for joy in the fire, that the standers-by, which were, by estimation, thousands, cried generally almost, “The Lord strengthen them; the Lord comfort them; the Lord pour his mercies upon them;” with such like words, as was wonderful to hear.

    Thus yielded they up their souls and bodies into the Lord’s hands, for the true testimony of his truth. The Lord grant we may imitate the same in the like quarrel (if he so vouch us worthy), for his mercy’s sake. Amen.

    In like manner the said day in the afternoon, were brought forth into the Castle-yard, to a place appointed for the same, William Mount, John Johnson, Alice Mount; and Rose Allin aforesaid: which godly constant persons, after they had made their prayers, and were joyfully tied to the stakes, calling upon the name of God, and exhorting the people earnestly to flee from idolatry, suffered their martyrdom with such triumph and joy, that the people did no less shout thereat to see it, than at the others that were burnt the same day in the morning.

    Thus ended all these glorious ten souls that day their happy lives unto the Lord, whose ages all did grow to the sum of four hundred and six years, or thereabouts. The Lord grant we may well spend our years and days, likewise, to his glory. Amen.

    JOHN THURSTON, DIED IN COLCHESTER CASTLE, Before, you have heard of the taking of John Thurston at Much Bentley, in the house of one William Mount of the same town; which said John Thurston afterward, about the month of May , a201 in the year aforesaid:, died in Colchester castle, a constant confessor of Jesus Christ.

    THE STORY AND DEATH OF GEORGE EAGLES, OTHERWISE TERMED TRUDGEOBER, A MOST PAINFUL TRAVELLER IN CHRIST’S GOSPEL, WHO, FOR THE SAME GOSPEL, MOST CRUELLY WAS MARTYRED BY THE CRUEL PAPISTS.

    Among other martyrs of singular virtue and constancy, one George Eagles deserveth not the least admiration, but is so much the more to be commended, for that he, having little learning or none, most manfully served and fought under the banner of Christ’s church. For oftentimes the will and pleasure of God is, to beautify and adorn his kingdom with the weak and simple instruments of this world; such as, in the Old Testament, Amos was, who, with many others of obscure and unknown names, were called from the herds and folds to the honor of prophets; as likewise we read of the apostles, that were called from fishermen’s craft, and put into churches. Wherefore this George Eagles is not to be neglected for his base occupation, whom Christ called thence to set forth and declare abroad his gospel. Rather we ought to glorify God the more thereby in his holiness, which in so blind a time inspired him with the gift of preaching, and constancy of suffering; who, after a certain time he had used the occupation of a tailor, being eloquent and of good utterance, gave and applied himself to the profit of Christ’s church.

    Which man, as before in those most bright and clear days of king Edward the sixth, he had not unfruitfully showed and preached the power and force of the Lord, so afterward, in the tempestuous time and fall of the church (at what time the confessors of Christ and his gospel were turmoiled, divers of them murdered, part banished, and others constrained for fear not to show their heads), he expressed and uttered his manly stomach. For he, wandering abroad into divers and far countries where he could find any of his brethren, did there most earnestly encourage and comfort them, now tarrying in this town, and sometime abiding in that, certain months together, as occasion served, lodging sometimes in the country, and sometimes, for fear, ]living in fields and woods, who, for his immoderate and unreasonable going abroad, was called Trudgeover.

    Oftentimes he did lie abroad in the night without covert, spending the most part thereof in devout and earnest prayer.

    His diet was so above measure spare and slender, that for the space of three years, he used for the most part to drink nothing but very water, whereunto he was compelled through necessity of the time of persecution: and after, when he perceived that his body, by God’s providence, proved well enough with this diet, he thought best to inure himself therewithal against all necessities.

    Now when he had profited Christ’s church in this sort, by going about and preaching the gospel a year or two, and especially in Colchester and the quarters thereabout, that privy enemy which envieth always the salvation and blessed estate of the good, lurked and ]aid wait by all means possible for him, so that there were divers spies sent out, who had in commandment, wheresoever they found him, to bring him either quick or dead.

    But when this their attempt could not prevail, but all was in vain (the said Eagles with his brethren keeping in close, and hiding themselves in out and dark places, as in barns, thickets, holes, and privy closets), his adversaries went about another way to compass this their enterprise of taking him.

    For in the queen’s name a grievous edict was proclaimed throughout four shires, Essex, Suffolk, Kent, and Norfolk, promising the party that took him, twenty pounds for his pains; doubtless a worthy hire to entice any Jew to treachery. For being inflamed with greedy desire of the money, they devised and invented all ways and reasons they could possibly to be enriched with the hurt and destruction of this silly man.

    At length it came to pass, that this George, being seen by chance at Colchester upon Mary Magdalen’s day, at which time they kept a fair in the town, should have forthwith been delivered to his adversaries, if he, perceiving the same (as God would have it), had not conveyed himself away as fast as he could, a great multitude pursuing after, and seeking diligently for him: who first hid himself in a grove, and then from thence he stole into a corn-field there by, and so lay secretly couched from the violence of his enemies, insomuch as they were an, saving one, past hope of taking him, and therefore ready to depart their way. This one, having more subtlety and wicked craft in, his head than the rest, would not depart thence with his fellows, but climbed up into a high tree, there to view and espy if he might see Eagles any where stir or move. “Quid non mortalia peetors cogis, Auri sacra fames? f375 The poor man, thinking all sure enough by reason that he heard no noise abroad, rose up on his knees, and lifting up his hands, prayed unto God.

    And whether it were for that his head was above the corn, or because his voice was heard, the lurker, perceiving his desired prey that he hunted after, forthwith came down, and suddenly laying hands on him, brought him as prisoner to Colchester. Notwithstanding, the greedy and Judas knave, which had so much promised him, was fain to be contented with a very small reward, and glad to take that too, lest he should have had nothing at all.

    This George Eagles, not without great lamentation of divers good men, and great lack unto the church of God (of which to his power he was a worthy instrument), was committed to prison there, and From thence within four days after conveyed to Chelmsford, where he abode all that night in devout prayer, and would not sleep, neither would eat or drink but bread and water. The next day he was carried to London to the bishop or the council, and there remained a certain time; and then was brought down to Chelmsford to the sessions, and there was indicted and accused of treason, because he had assembled companies together, contrary to the laws and statutes of the realm in that case provided. For so it was ordained a little before, to avoid sedition, that if men should flock secretly together above the number of six, they should be attached of treason: which strait law was the casting away of the good duke of Somerset before mentioned.

    And albeit it was well known, that poor Eagles did never any thing seditiously against the queen, yet to cloak an honest matter withal, and to cause him to be the more hated of the people, they turned religion into a civil offense and crime; and though he defended his cause stoutly and boldly, making a full declaration of his religion or faith, before the judges, yet could he not bring it to pass by any means, but that he must needs be indicted (as is said) of treason; whose indictment did run much after this fashion: “George Eagles, thou art indicted by the names of George Eagles, otherwise Trudgeover-the-World, for that thou didst such a day make thy prayer, that God should turn queen Mary’s heart, or else take her away.”

    He denied that he prayed that God should take her away, but he confessed, he prayed that God would turn her heart, in his prayer. Well, notwithstanding, he was condemned for a traitor, although the meaning thereof was for religion.

    This thing done, he was carried to the new inn, called the sign of the Crown in Chelmsford, by the beastly bailiffs, which (some of them) were they that before did their best to take him. And being in the inn, one Richard Porto the elder, an inn-holder, dwelling at the sign of the Cock in the same town, did much trouble him, in, persuading him to confess he had offended the queen in his prayer (which he was condemned for), and to ask her forgiveness. To whom he said, he had not offended her grace in that behalf.

    So in process of time, he was laid upon a sledge, with a hurdle on it, and drawn to the place of execution, being fast bound, having in his hand a Psalm-book, of the which he read very devoutly all the way with a loud voice, till he came there. And being on the ladder, this foresaid Porto did much trouble him with the matter aforesaid, when he would ]have uttered other things, till such time as the sheriff commanded Porto to hold his peace, and trouble him no more: so he made his confession, and stood very constant still; then he was turned off the ladder.

    With him were cast certain thieves also [the day before]; and [now] the next day, when they were brought out to be executed with him, there happened a thing that did much set forth and declare the innocency and godliness of this man. For being led between two thieves to the place where he should suffer, when as he exhorted both them and all others to stand steadfastly to the truth, one of these turned the counsel he gave, into a jesting matter, and made but a flout at it. “Why should we doubt to obtain heaven,” saith he, “forasmuch as this holy man shall go before us, as captain and leader unto us in the way. We shall flee thither straight, as soon as he hath once made us the entry.”

    In this, George Eagles and that other did greatly reprove him; ‘who, on the other side, gave good heed to George’s exhortation, earnestly bewailing his own wickedness, and calling to Christ for mercy. But the more that the first was bid to be still, and to leave off his scoffing, the more perverse he did continue in his foolishness, and his wicked behavior.

    At length he came to the gallows, whore they should be hanged, but George was carried to another place there by, to suffer. Between the two it was the godlier’s chance to go the foremost, who being upon the ladder, after he had exhorted the people to beware and to take heed to themselves, how they did transgress the commandments of God, and then had committed his soul into God’s hands, he ended his life after a godly and quiet manner. The mocker’s turn cometh next, which would have said likewise somewhat, but his tongue did so fumble and falter in his head, that he was not able to speak a word. Fain would he have uttered his mind, but he could not bring it out. Then did the under-sheriff bid him say the Lord’s Prayer, which he could not say neither, but stutteringly, as a man would say, one word to-day, and another to-morrow. Then one did begin to say it, and so bade him say after. a202 Such as were there, and saw. it, were. very much astonied, especially those that did behold the just punishment of God against him that had mocked so earnest a matter.

    George Eagles in the meanwhile, after he had hanged a small time, having a great check with the halter, immediately one of the bailiffs cut the halter asunder, and he fell to the ground being still alive, although much amazed with the check he had off the ladder. Then one William Swallow of Chelmsford, a bailiff, did draw him to the sled that he was drawn thither on, and laid his neck thereon, and with a cleaver (such as is occupied in many men’s kitchens, and blunt) did hackle off his head, and sometimes hit his neck, and sometimes his chin, and did foully mangle him, and so opened him. Notwithstanding this blessed martyr of Christ abode steadfast and constant in the very midst of his torments, till such time as this tormentor William Swallow did pluck the heart out of his body. The body being divided in four parts, and his bowels burnt, was brought to the foresaid Swallow’s door, and there laid upon the fish-stalls before his door, till they had made ready a horse to carry his quarters, one to Colchester, and the rest to Harwich, Chelmsford, and St. Osyth’s. His head was set up at Chelmsford on the market-cross, on a long pole, and there stood, till the wind did blow it down; and lying certain days in the street tumbled about, one caused it to be buried in the church-yard in the night.

    Also a wonderful work of God was it that he showed on this wicked bailiff Swallow, who, within short space after this, was so punished, that all the hair went well near off his head; his eyes were as it were closed up, and could scantly see; the nails of his fingers and toes went clean off. He was in such case of his body, as though he had been a leper, and now in his last age almost a very beggar; and his wife, which he a little after married, God hath punished with the falling-sickness, or a disease like unto that: which may be a warning or glass for all men and women to look in, that be enemies to God’s true servants.

    No less token of his marvelous judgment did God show upon the foresaid Richard Potto, which did so much trouble this George Eagles in the inn, and at the place of execution, as is above specified. He lived till the beginning of queen Elizabeth’s reign, all which time he little joyed: and being on a time in a great chafe with two or three of his neighbors in his own house, feeling himself not well, he said to one of his servants, Go with me into the chamber.” And when he came there, he fell down on a low bed, as heavy as it had been lead, and lay there foaming at the mouth, and could never speak after, neither yet understand what was said to him, as by all means was tried by his neighbors with signs to him made, but lay as senseless as it had been a very dumb beast, and within three or four days died. God grant that this token, sent of God, with many more like,, may be a warning to us ever hereafter while we shall live, unto the world’s end! *Thus the godly and blessed man, more worthy of heaven than earth, suffered great extremity after a most unworthy manner, being counted but as an outcast of the world, yet, at the hands of Christ and his church, a most worthy martyr; whose remembrance shall shine so freshly among posterity, that it shall never decay while the world standeth. Besides that, God hath wonderfully declared his just judgment upon that man that did first betray him. His name was Rare Lardyn, dwelling in the town of Colchester; who, in the rear of our Lord 1561, was attached of felony and brought to the sessions at Chelmsford, and there condemned to be hanged.

    Being at the bar, he said these words before the judges there, and a great multitude of people: “This is most justly fallen upon me,” saith he, “for that I betrayed the innocent blood of a good and just man, George Eagles; who was here condemned in the time of queen Mary’s reign, through my procurement, who sold his blood for a little money.” By this all persecutors may learn to beware how they seek the ]life of any simple man that professeth the truth, lest God show his displeasure against them likewise, and measure to them as they have measured to other before.* Besides this, God hath wonderfully showed his work: for at a time when they laid great wait for this George Eagles, so that it was thought that it was impossible but that he should be taken, being so beset; his friends did put him into apprentice-apparel, viz. watchet-hose a203 (as there manner is), and an old cloak, and set him on a pack of wool, as though he had ridden to carry wool to the spinners. So he rode amongst the midst of his adversaries, and escaped them all for that time.

    Another troubler of the said George Eagles, was also justice Brown, who enjoyed not his cruelty many years after, etc. Also when he was at the: sessions at Chelmsford, there was a rumor raised, that he had accused divers honest men that did keep him in their houses, and was conversant with him; and all to discredit him: which rumor was very false and utterly untrue. — Witness one Reynold, with divers others dwelling in Chelmsford.

    THE MARTYRDOM AND EXAMINATIONS OF RICHARD OF WYMONDHAM, CONDEMNED TO DEATH FOR, THE TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST.

    About this time suffered at Norwich a godly man and a constant martyr of Christ, called Richard Crash field, whose examinations before the chancellor, named Dunning, as he penned them with his own hand, so have we faithfully recorded the same. “How say you, sirrah!” said the chancellor, “to the ceremonies of the church?”

    Then said I, “What ceremonies?” He said unto me, “Do you not believe that all the ceremonies of the church are good and godly?”

    My answer was, “I do believe so many as are grounded in the testament of Jesus Christ.” “Tush,” said he, “do you believe in the sacrament of the altar?” I said, “I knew not what it was.”

    Then said he, “Do you not believe that Christ took bread, gave thanks, brake it, and said, ‘Take, eat, this is my body?’” “Yes verily,” said I, “and even as Christ did speak, so did he perform the work.” “Tush,” said he, “do you not believe this, that after the words be spoken by the priest, there is the substance of Christ’s body, flesh and blood? How say you, do you not believe this? Speak man!” Crashfield: — “I do believe that Christ’s body was broken for me upon the cross, and his blood shed for my redemption, whereof the bread and the wine are a perpetual memory, the pledge of his mercy, the ring or seal of his promise, and a perpetual memory for the faithful unto the end of the world.” So then I was commanded into prison until the next day.

    The day following I was brought forth. Then the chancellor said unto me, “Richard, how say you? Are you otherwise minded than you were yesterday?” He, rehearsing all the words that we had afore, said, “Are not these your words?” Whereunto I answered, “Yes.” Then said he, “How say you, can you not find in your heart, when you come to church, to kneel down before the rood, and make your prayer? I answered and said, “No;” rehearsing the commandment of God forbidding the same. He said, “Have you not read or heard, that God commanded an image to be made?” I answered, “What image?” He said, “The brazen serpent.” I said, “Yes, I have heard it read, how that God did command it to be made, and likewise to be broken down.” Then Dr. Brydges said, “Wherefore did God command the Seraphim and Cherubim to be made?” I said, I could not tell; I would fain learn. Then said the chancellor, “But how say you to this? Can you find in your heart to fall down before the picture of Christ, which is the rood?” I said. “No, I fear the curse of God: for *is yonder Roode the picture of Christe? I sayd, *it is written, that God curseth the hands that make them, yea and the hands that make the tools wherewith they are carved.”

    Then Dr. Brydges raged and said, “List now what a piece of Scripture he hath here gotten to serve his purpose, for he will not allow but where he listeth.”

    Then said the chancellor, “How say you to confession to the priest? When were you confessed. I said, I confess myself daily unto the eternal God, whom I most grievously offend.”

    Then the chancellor said, “Do you not then take confession to the priest to be good?” I answered, “No, but rather wicked.”

    Then the chancellor said, “How say you by yonder gear, yonder singing, and yonder, playing on the organs? Is it not good and godly?” I said, “I could perceive no godliness in it.”

    Then he said, “Why, is it not written in the Psalms, That we should praise God with hymns and spiritual songs?” I said, “Yes, spiritual songs must be had; but yonder is of the flesh, and of the spirit of error: for to you it is pleasant and glorious, but to the Lord it is bitter and odious.”

    Then said the chancellor, “Why, is it not written, ‘My house is a house of prayer?’” (Isaiah 56.) I said, “Yes. It is written also, That you have made my house of prayer a den of thieves.” (Luke 10.)

    With that, the chancellor looked and said, “Have we?” I answered and said, “Christ said so.” Then was I Commanded toward.

    The Thursday next following, was Dr. Brydges sent to me, to examine me of my faith. And he said, “Countryman, my lord bishop (for love he would have you saved) hath sent me unto you, because tomorrow is your day appointed: therefore my lord hath thought it meet, that you should declare unto me your faith; for tomorrow, my lord will not have much ado with you.” I answered and said, “Hath my lord sent you? It is not you, to whom I am disposed to show my mind.”

    Then he said to me, “I pray you show me your mind concerning the sacrament of the altar.” I answered, “Are you ignorant what I have said?” He said, “No, for it was well written. Except you believe,” saith he, “as the church hath taught, you are damned both body and soul.”

    I answered and said, “Judge not, lest you be judged: condemn not, lest you be condemned.” And he said, “Lo, we shall have a traitor as well as a heretic: for he will disallow the king’s judgment.”

    I said, “No, I do not disallow the king’s judgment; but yours I do disallow. For I pray you tell me, how came you by this judgment?”

    He answered and said, “By the church; for the church hath power to save and condemn: for if you be condemned by the church, be ye sure, that you be damned both body and soul.”

    Then I answered, “If you have this power, I am sore deceived: for I believe that Christ shall be our judge. But now I perceive that you will do [so] much for him, that you will not put him to the pain.”

    Then he said, “Stand nearer, countryman: why stand ye so far off?” I said, “I am near enough, and a little too near.”

    Then he said, “Did not Christ say, Is not my flesh meat, and my blood drink indeed?” I said, “To whom spoke Christ those words?”

    He said, “To his disciples.”

    I (intending to rehearse the text) said, “Whereat did Christ’s disciples murmur inwardly?” He said, “No, they did not murmur: but they were the infidels,” saith he; “for the disciples were satisfied with those words.”

    I said, “Did not Christ say thus, as he taught at Capernaum?

    Whereat his disciples murmured, saying, ‘This is a hard saying; who can abide the hearing of it?’ Jesus perceiving their thoughts, said, ‘Doth this offend you?’” Then he raged, and said, “Oh! thou wrestest the text for thine own purpose: for the disciples did never murmur, but the unbelievers, as thou art.” I said, “Yes, but I perceive you know not the text.”

    Then said he, with much raging, “I will lay my head thereon, it is not so.” Then said I, “I have done with you.”

    Then said he, “What shall I tell my lord of you?” “If you have nothing to tell him, your errand shall be the sooner done,” said I.

    And so he departed.

    Then on Friday I was brought forth to receive judgment. Then the. chancellor said unto me, “Are you a new man, or are you not?” I answered and said, “I trust I am a new man, born of God.” “God give grace you be so,” said he. So he rehearsed all my examination, and said, “How say you, are not these your words?” I said, “Yes, I will not deny them.”

    Then he said to Dr. Pore, standing by, “I pray you talk with him.”

    Then, he, alleging to me many fair flattering words, said, “Take eat, this is my body. How say you to this? Do you not believe that it is Christ’s body? speak.” I said, “Have you not my mind? Why do you trouble me?”

    He said, “What did Christ give you? was it bread, or was it not?” I said “Christ took bread, and gave thanks, and gave it; and they took bread, and did eat. And St. Paul maketh it more manifest, where he saith, ‘So oft as ye shall eat of this bread, and drink of this cup, ye shall show forth the Lord’s death until he come.’ (1 Corinthians 10.) St. Paul saith not here as you say: for he saith, ‘So oft as ye shall eat of this bread.’ He doth not say body.”

    So they intending that I should go no further in the text, said, “Tush, you go about the bush. Answer me to the first question.

    Let us make an end of that. What say you to the bread that Christ gave? Let me have your mind in that.” I answered, “I have said my mind in it.”

    Then the chancellor said, “No, we will have your mind in that.” I answered, “I have said my mind in it.”

    Then said the chancellor, “No, we will have your mind more plainly: for we intend not to have many words with you.” I said, “My faith is fully grounded and stablished, that Christ Jesus, the Easter-lamb, hath offered his blessed body a sacrifice to God the Father, the price of my redemption. For by that only sacrifice are all the faithful sanctified, and he is our only Advocate and Mediator, and he hath made perfect our redemption. This hath he done alone, without any of your daily oblations.”

    Then Dr. Brydges start up a204 and said, “Truth! your words are true indeed. You take well the literal sense: but this you must understand, that like as you said that Christ offered his body upon the cross, which was a bloody sacrifice, and a visible sacrifice; so likewise we daily offer the selfsame body that was offered upon the cross, but not bloody and visible, but invisible, unto God the Father.” “Do you offer Christ’s body?” I said; “why then Christ’s sacrifice was not perfect. But Christ is true, when all men shall be liars.”

    Then he said, “Thou shalt not fear him that hath power to kill the body; but thou shalt fear him that hath power to kill both body and soul.” I answered and said, “It is not so. But the text is thus, ‘Thou shalt not fear them that have power to kill the body, and then have done what they can. But thou shalt fear him that hath power to kill both body and soul, and cast them both into hell-fire, and not them.’” He answered and said, “Yes; for it is the church.” I answered and said, “Why, Christ saith, ‘I give my life for the redemption of the world. No man taketh my life from me,’ saith he, ‘but I give it of my own power; and so I have power to take it again.’ Therefore Christ the Son of God did offer his body once for all. And if you will presume to offer his body daily, then your power is above Christ’s power.” With that he chafed and said, “What, shall we have doctrine? Ye are not hereto appointed.”

    Then the chancellor stood up and said, “Will ye turn from this wicked error, and be an example of goodness, as you have been an example of evil (for by your wicked reading, you have persuaded simple women to be in this error), and ye shall have mercy.” And I said, “It is of God that I do crave mercy, whom I have offended, and not of you.”

    Then said the chancellor, “When were you at your parish church?

    These two years and more you have stood excommunicate: wherefore you are condemned!” And so! was condemned.

    Thus hast thou, gentle reader! the examinations of this godly young man, set forth and written with his own hand, who, not long after his condemnation, was, by the sheriffs and officers there, brought to the stake, on August the 5th, where with much patience and constancy, he entered his blessed martyrdom. At the burning of which christian martyr, one Thomas Carman the same time was apprehended (by what occasion, it is not yet to us fully certain, whether it was for words, or for praying with him, or for pledging him at his burning); concerning which Thomas Carman, his story hereafter followeth in his order and place, further to be seen.

    ONE FRIAR, AND CERTAIN GODLY WOMAN BURNT AT ROCHESTER, WHO WAS THE SISTER OF GEORGE EAGLES.

    About the same time and month, one named Frier, with a woman accompanying him, who was the sister of George Eagles, in the like cause of righteousness, suffered the like martyrdom by the unrighteous papists, whose tyranny the Lord of his mercy abate and cut short:, turning that wicked generation, if it be his will, to a better mind.

    THE APPRENHENSION AND DEATH OF MISTRESS JOYCE LEWES, THE WIFE OF THOMAS LEWES, OF MANCETTER, MOST CONSTANTLY SUFFERING FOR GOD’S WORD AT LICHFIELD.

    Mistress Joyce Lewes, a gentlewoman born, was delicately brought up in the pleasures of the world, having delight in gay apparel, and such like foolishness, with the which follies the most part of the gentlefolks of England were then, and are yet infected; who was married first to one called Appleby, and afterward to Thomas Lewes of Mancetter. In the beginning of queen Mary’s time she went to the church and heard mass as others did, but when she heard of the burning of that most godly and learned martyr, Laurence Saunders, who suffered in Coventry, she began to take more heed to the matter, and inquired earnestly of such as she knew feared God, the cause of his death. And when she perceived it was because he refused to receive the mass, she began to be troubled in conscience, and waxed very unquiet. And because her house was even hard by master John Glover’s house, of whom mention was made before (a man of blessed memory, and a singular example, for his unfeigned godliness and manifold troubles which he suffered for the gospel), she did oftentimes resort to him, and desired him to tell her the faults that were in the mass, and other things that at that time were urged as necessary to salvation.

    Now he, perceiving both her unquiet mind, and also the desire she had to know the truth, did most diligently instruct her in the ways of the Lord, approving unto her out of God’s Holy Word, that the mass, with all other papistical inventions, was odious in God’s sight; and besides this, reproved her, for that she delighted in the vanities of this world so much.

    By the which godly counsel given by him, it happened that she began to wax weary of the world, thoroughly sorrowful for her sins, being inflamed with the love of God, desirous to serve him according to his word, purposing also to flee from those things the which did displease the Lord her God. And because she had learned the mass to be evil and abominable, she began to hate it. And when at a time she was compelled by the furiousness of her husband to come to the church, at the same time when the holy water was cast, she turned her back towards it, and showed herself to be displeased with their blasphemous holy water, injurious to the blood of Christ. Whereupon she was accused before the bishop for the despising of their sacramentales.

    Immediately a citation was sent for her to her husband’s house, to appear before the bishop incontinently. The sumner that brought the citation, delivered it to her husband, who, looking upon it, and perceiving what it was, was moved with anger, willing the sumner to take the citation with him again, or else he would make him to eat it. The sumner refused to take it again, for he thought no man durst have been so bold to trouble him: but in the end Lewes compelled the said sumner to eat the citation indeed, by setting a dagger to his heart; and when he had eaten it, he caused him to drink to it, and so sent him away. But immediately after, the said Lewes with his wife were commanded to appear before the bishop, where the said Lewes by and by submitted himself, and, desiring the bishop to be good to him, excused himself after the best fashion he could. Whereupon the bishop was content to receive his submission, with condition that his wife should submit herself also. But she stoutly told the bishop, that by refusing of the holy water, she had neither offended God, nor any part of his laws. At the which words the bishop being grievously offended, yet because she was a gentlewoman, and he would not take her at the worst (as he said), he gave her one month’s respite, binding her husband in a hundred pounds, to bring her again unto him at the month’s end: and so they were both let go.

    When they came to their own house, the said mistress Joyce Lewes gave herself to most diligent prayer, and invocating of the name of God, resorting continually to the abovenamed man of God, master John Glover, who did most diligently instruct her with God’s word, willing her in any case not to meddle with that matter in respect of vain glory, or to get herself a name, showing her the great dangers she was like to cast herself in, if she should meddle in God’s matters otherwise than Christ doth teach.

    When the month was now almost expired, and the time at hand that she should be brought before the said bishop, her husband being advertised by the said master John Glover and others not to carry her to the bishop, but to seek some ways to save her, or, if the worst should come, to be content to forfeit so much money, rather than to cast his own wife into the fire; he answered, he would not lose or forfeit any thing for her sake. And so, like a murderer of his own wife, he carried her to the bloody bishop, where she was examined, and found more stout than she was before death was threatened. And to begin withal, she was sent to such a stinking prison, that a certain maid which was appointed to keep her company, did swound in the same prison.

    Being thus kept in prison, and oftentimes examined, and ever found stout, at the length she was brought in judgment, a206 and pronounced an heretic worthy to be burnt. *But here is to be noted,* when the bishop reasoned with her, why she would not come to the mass and receive the sacraments and sacramentales of holy church, she answered, “Because *(said she)* I find not these things in God’s word, which you so urge and magnify as things most needful for men’s salvation. If these things were in the same word of God commended, I would with all my heart, receive, esteem, and believe them.” The bishop answered, “If thou wilt believe no more than is in the Scripture concerning matters of religion, thou art in a damnable case.” At the which *injurious* words she was wonderfully amazed, and being moved by the Spirit of God told the bishop, that his words were. ungodly and wicked.

    After her condemnation, she continued a whole twelvemonth in prison, because she was committed to the sheriff that was of late chosen, who could not be compelled to put her to death in his time, as he affirmed: for the which thing, after her death he was sore troubled, and in danger of his life. All that time she was in prison, her behavior was such both in words and deeds, that all they that had any spark of godliness or civil honesty, did greatly lament her case, that she should be put to death.

    Now when the time did draw near the which God had appointed for her deliverance, the writ De Comburendo (as they term it) being brought down from London, she desired certain of her friends to come to her, with whom, when they came, she consulted how she might behave herself, that her death might be more glorious to the name of God, comfortable to his people, and also most discomfortable unto the enemies of God. “As for *the fear of* death,” said she, “I do not greatly pass. When I behold the amiable countenance of Christ, my dear Savior, the *ugsome* face of death doth not greatly trouble me.” In the which time also she reasoned most comfortably out of God’s word, of God’s election and reprobation.

    In the evening, before the day of her suffering, two of the priests of the close of Lichfield, came to the under-sheriff’s house where she lay, and sent word to her by the sheriff, that they were come to hear her confession: for they would be sorry she should die without. She sent them word again, she had made her confession to Christ her Savior, at whose hands she was sure to have forgiveness of her sins. As concerning the cause for the which she should die, she had no cause to confess that, but rather to give unto God most humble praise, that he did make her worthy to suffer death for his word: and as concerning that absolution that they were able to give unto her, being authorized, by the pope, she did defy the same, even from the bottom of her heart. The which thing when the priests heard, they said to the sheriff, “Well, to-morrow her stoutness will be proved and tried: for although perhaps she hath now some friends that whisper her in her ears, to-morrow we will see who dare be so hardy as to come near her.” And so they went their ways with anger, that their confession and absolution was nought set by.

    All that night she was wonderfully cheerful and merry, with a certain gravity, insomuch that the majesty of the Spirit of God did manifestly’ appear in her, who did expel the fear of death out of her heart; spending the time in prayer, reading, and talking with them that were purposely come unto her, to comfort her with the word of God.

    About three of the clock in the morning, Satan (who never sleepeth, especially when death is at hand) began to stir himself busily, shooting at her that fiery dart, the which he is wont to do against all that are at defiance with him, questioning with her, how she could tell that She was chosen to eternal life, and that Christ died for her: “I grant that he died; but that he died for thee how canst thou tell?” With this suggestion when she was troubled, they that were about her did counsel her to follow the example of Paul, where he saith, “which hath loved me, and given himself for me.” (Galatians 2.) Also, that her vocation and calling to the knowledge of God’s word was a manifest token of God’s love towards her, especially that same Holy Spirit of God working in her heart, that love and desire towards God to please him, and to be justified by him through Christ, etc.

    By these and like persuasions, and especially by the comfortable promises of Christ, brought out of the Scripture, Satan was put to flight, and she comforted in Christ.

    About eight of the clock, master sheriff came to her into her chamber, saying these words, “Mistress Lewes, I am come to bring you tidings of the queen’s pleasure, the which is, that you shall live no longer but one hour in this world: therefore prepare yourself thereunto, it standeth you in hand.” At which words, being so grossly uttered, and so suddenly by such an officer as he was, she was somewhat abashed. Wherefore one of her friends and acquaintance standing by, said these words, “Mistress Lewes, you have great cause to praise God, who will vouchsafe so speedily to take you out of this world, and make you worthy to be a witness of his truth, and to bear record unto Christ, that he is the only Savior.”

    After the which words spoken thus, she said, “Master sheriff, your message is welcome to me, and I thank my God that he will make me worthy to adventure my life in his quarrel.” And thus master sheriff departed. And within the space of one hour he came again, “cum gladiis et fustibus;” and when he came up into the chamber, one of her friends desired him to give him leave to go with her to the stake, and to comfort her, the which the sheriff granted at that time; but afterwards he was sore troubled for the same, when she was dead.

    Now when she was brought through the town with a number of bill-men, a great multitude of people being present, she, being led by two of her friends (which were master Michael Reniger, and master Augustine Bernher), she was brought to the place of execution. And because the place was far off, and the throng of the people great, and she not acquainted with the fresh air (being so long in prison), one of her friends sent a messenger to the sheriff’s house for some drink; and after she had prayed three several times, in the which prayer she desired God most instantly to abolish the idolatrous mass, and to deliver this realm from papistry (at the end of which prayers the most part of the people cried Amen, yea, even the sheriff that stood hard by her, ready to east her in the fire for not allowing the mass, at this her prayer said with the rest of the people, Amen): when she had thus prayed, she took the cup into her hands, saying, “I drink to all them that unfeignedly love the gospel of Jesus Christ, and wish for the abolishment of papistry.” When she had drunk, they that were her friends drank also. After that a great number, specially the women of that town, did drink with her; which afterward were put to open penance in the church by the cruel papists, for drinking with her.

    When she was tied to the stake with the chain, she showed such a cheerfulness that it passed man’s reason, being so well colored in her face, and being so patient, that the most part of them’ that had honest hearts did lament, and even with tears bewail the tyranny of the papists. When the fire was set upon her, she neither struggled nor stirred, but only lifted up her hands towards heaven, being dead very speedily: for the under-sheriff at the request of her friends had provided such stuff, by the which she was suddenly a205 despatched out of this miserable world.

    This amongst other things may not be forgotten, that the papists had appointed some to rail upon her openly, and to revile her, both as she went to the place of execution, and also when she was at the stake.

    Amongst others there was an old priest, which had a pair of writing-tables, to note both the names of the women that drank of her cup (as before you heard), and also described her friends by their apparel: for presently he could not learn their names, and afterwards inquired for their names. And so, immediately after, process was sent out for them, a207 both to Coventry and other places. But God, whose providence sleeps not, did defend them from the hands of these cruel tyrants. Unto the which God, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be honor and glory for ever. Amen.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF RALPH ALLERTON, JAMES AUSTOO, MARGEREY AUSTOO, AND RICHARD ROTH, BURNT AT ISLINGTON.

    In searching out the certain number of the faithful martyrs of God that suffered within the time and reign of queen Mary, I find, that about the 17th day of September were burned at Islington, nigh unto London, these four constant professors of Christ, Ralph Allerton, James Austoo, Margery Austoo, his wife, and Richard Roth. Among the which, it first appeareth that this Ralph Allerton was, more than a year before his condemnation, apprehended and brought before the lord Darcy of Chiche; and was there accused, as well for that he would not. consent and come unto the idolatry and superstition which then was used, as also that he had by preaching enticed others, to do the like.

    Being then hereupon examined, he confessed that he, coming into his parish-church of Bentley, and seeing the people sitting there, either gazing about, or else talking together, he exhorted them that they would fall unto prayer, and meditation of God’s most holy word, and not sit still idly: whereunto they willingly consented. Then, after prayer ended, he read unto them a chapter of the New Testament, and so departed. In the which exercise he continued until Candlemas, and then, being informed that he might not so do by the law (for that he was no priest or minister), he left off, and kept himself close in his house until Easter then next after, at what time certain sworn men for the inquiry of such matters came unto his house, and attached him for reading in the parish of Weeley. But when they understood that he had read but once, and that it was of obedience (whereunto he earnestly moved the people)., they let him for that time depart. Notwithstanding, for fear of their cruelty, he was not long after constrained to forsake his own house, and keep himself in woods, barns, and other solitary places, until the time of his apprehension.

    After this examination, the lord Darcy sent him up to the council; but they (not minding to trouble themselves with him) sent him unto Bonner, who, by threatenings and other subtle means, so abused the simple and fearful heart of this man (as yet not thoroughly staid upon the aid and help of God), that within short time he won him to his most wicked will, and made him openly at Paul’s Cross to revoke and recant his former profession, and thereupon set him at liberty of body; which yet brought such a bondage and terror of soul and conscience, and so cast him down, that except the Lord (whose mercies are immeasurable) had supported and lifted him up again, he had perished for ever. But the Lord, who never suffereth his elect children utterly to fall, casting his pitiful eyes upon this lost sheep, with his merciful and fatherly chastisements, did (wig Peter) raise him up again, giving unto him not only hearty and unfeigned repentance, but also a most constant boldness to profess again (even unto the death) his most holy name and glorious gospel. Wherefore, at the procurement of one Thomas Tye, priest, sometime an earnest professor of Christ, but now a fierce persecutor of the same (as appeareth more at large before, in the history of William Mount and his wife), he was again apprehended, and sent up again unto Bonner, before whom he was, the 8th day of April and sundry other times else, examined. The report of which examination, written by his own hand, with blood for lack of other ink, hereafter followeth.

    THE EXAMINATION OF RALPH ALLERTON AT HIS SECOND APPREHENSION, APPEARING BEFORE THE BISHOP OF LONDON AT FULHAM, THE 8TH DAY OF APRIL, ANNO 1557:

    WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, WITH HIS OWN BLOOD. Bonner: — “Ah sirrah! how chanceth it that you are come hither again on this fashion? I dare say thou art accused wrongfully.” Ralph: — “Yea, my lord, so I am. For if I were guilty of such things as I am accused of, then I would be very sorry.” Bonner: — “By St. Mary that is not well done. But let me hear, Art thou an honest man? for if t can prove no heresy by thee, then shall thine accusers do thee no harm at all. Go to, let me hear thee: for I did not believe the tale to be true.” Ralph: — “My lord, who did accuse me? I pray you let me know, and what is mine accusation, that I may answer thereunto.” Bonner: — “Ah, wilt thou so? Before God, if thou hast not dissembled, then thou needest not be afraid, nor ashamed to answer for thyself. But tell me in faith, hast thou not dissembled?” Ralph: — “If I cannot have mine accusers to accuse me before you, my conscience doth constrain me to accuse myself before you: for I confess that I have grievously offended God in my dissimulation, at my last being before your lordship, for the which I am right sorry, as God knoweth.” Bonner: — “Wherein, I pray thee, didst thou dissemble, when thou wast before me?” Ralph: — “Forsooth, my lord, if your lordship remember, I did set my hand upon a certain writing, the contents whereof (as I remember) were, ‘That I did believe in all things as the catholic church teacheth,’ etc. In the which I did not*disburs*my mind, but shamefully dissembled, because I made no difference between the true church and the untrue church.” Bonner: — “Nay, but I pray thee let me hear more of this gear; for I fear me thou wilt smell*as*a heretic anon. Which is the true church, as thou sayest? Dost thou not call the heretics’ church the true church, or the catholic church of Christ? Now, which of these two is the true church, sayest thou? Go to, for in faith I will know of thee or I leave thee.” Ralph: - “As concerning the church of heretics, I utterly abhor the same, as detestable and abominable before God, with all their enormities and heresies: and the church catholic is it that I only embrace, whose doctrine is sincere, pure, and true.” Bonner: — “By St. Augustine, but that is well said of thee: for, by God Almighty, if thou hadst allowed the church of heretics, I would have burned thee with fire for thy labor.”

    Then said one Morton a priest, “My lord, you know not yet what church it is, that he calleth catholic. I warrant you he meaneth haughtily enough.” Bonner: — “Think you so? Now by our blessed Lady, if it be so, he might have deceived me. How say you, sirrah! which is the catholic church?” Ralph: Even that which hath received the wholesome sound, spoken of Isaiah, David, Malachi, and Paul, with many other more. The which sound, as it is written, hath gone throughout all the earth in every place, and unto the ends of the world.” Bonner: — “Yea, thou sayest true before God: for this is the sound that hath gone throughout all Christendom. And he that believeth not the sound of the holy church, as St. Cyprian saith, doth err: for he saith, that whosoever is out of the church, is like unto them that were out of Noah’s ship when the flood came upon all the whole world; so that the ark of Noah is likened unto the church. And therefore thou hast well said in thy confession: for the church is not alone in Germany, nor was here in England in the time of the late schisms, as the heretics do affirm. For if the church should be there alone, then were Christ a liar: for he promised that the Holy Ghost should come to us, lead us unto all truth, yea and remain with us unto the end of the world. So now, if we will take Christ for a true sayer, then must we needs affirm, that the way which is taught in France, Spain, Italy, Flanders, Denmark, Scotland, and all Christendom over, must needs be the true catholic church.” Ralph: - “My lord, if you remember, I spoke of all the world, as it is written, and not of all Christendom only, as methinks your lordship taketh it, the which kind of speaking you do not find in all the Bible.

    For sure I am, that the gospel hath been both preached and persecuted in all lands; first, in Jewry by the Scribes and Pharisees, and since that time by Nero, Dioclesian, and such like, and now here, in these our days, by your lordship knoweth whom. For truth it is that the church which you call catholic, is none otherwise catholic than was figured in Cain, observed of Jeroboam, Ahab, Jezebel, Nebuchadnezzar, Antiochus, Herod, with innumerable more of the like; and as both Daniel and Esdras make mention of these last days by a plain prophecy, and now fulfilled, as appeareth, and affirmed by our Savior Christ and his apostles, saying, ‘There shall come grievous wolves to devour the flock.’” Bonner: — “Now, by the blessed sacrament of the altar, master Morton, he is the rankest heretic that ever came before me. How say you? have you heard the like?” Morton: — “I thought what he was, my lord, at the first, I.” a208 Bonner: — “Now, by All-hallows, thou shalt be burnt with fire for thy lying, thou whoreson varlet and prick-louse, thou! Dost thou find a prophecy in Daniel of us? Nay, you knave, it is of you that he speaketh, and of your false pretensed holiness. Go to, let me hear what is the saying of Esdras, and take heed ye make not a lie, I advise you.” Ralph: - “The saying of Esdras is this: ‘The heat of a great multitude is kindled over you, and they shall take away certain of you, and feed the idols with you. And he that consenteth unto them, shall be had in derision, laughed to scorn, and trodden under foot. Yea, they shall be like madmen, for they shall spare no man; they shall spoil and waste such as fear the Lord,” etc.(2 Esdras 16.) Bonner: — “And have you taken this thing to make your market good? Ah sirrah, wilt thou so? by my faith, a pretty instruction, and a necessary thing to be taught among the people. By my troth, I think there be no more of this opinion. I pray thee tell me: is there any that understandeth this Scripture on this fashion? Before God, I think there be none in all England, but thou.” Ralph: Yes, my lord, there are in England three religions.” Bonner: — “Sayest thou so? Which be those three?” Ralph: — “The first is that which you hold; the second is clean contrary to the same; and the third is a neuter, being indifferent — that is to say, observing all things that are commanded outwardly, as though he were of your part, his heart being set wholly against the same.” Bonner: — “And of these three, which art thou? for now thou must needs be of one of them.” Ralph: — “Yea, my lord, I am of one of them; and that which I am of, is even that which is contrary to that which you teach to be believed under pain of death.” Bonner: — “Ah sir, you were here with me at Fulham, and had good cheer, yea, and money in your purse when you went away; and by my faith I bad a favor unto thee, but now I see thou wilt be a naughty knave. Why, wilt thou take upon thee to read the Scripture, and canst understand never a word? for thou hast brought a text of Scripture, the which maketh clean against thee. For Esdras speaketh of the multitude of you heretics, declaring your hate against the catholic church, making the simple or idle people believe, that all is idolatry that we do; and so entice them away until you have overcome them.” Ralph: — “Nay, not so, my lord: for he maketh it more plain, and saith on this wise: ‘They shall take away their goods, and put them out of their houses; and then shall it be known who are my chosen, saith the Lord, for they shall be tried, as the silver or gold is, in the fire.’

    And we see it so come to pass, even as he hath said: for who is not now driven from house and home, yea and his goods taken up for other men that never sweat for them, if he do not observe as you command and set forth? Or else, if he be taken, then must he either deny the truth, as I did, in dissembling, or else he shall be sure to be tried, as Esdras saith, ‘even as the gold is tried in the fire.’ Whereby all the world may know, that you are the bloody church, figured in Cain the tyrant, neither yet are ye able to avoid it.” Morton: — “I promise you, my lord, I like him better now than ever I did, when he was here before you the other time; for then he did but dissemble, as I perceived well enough; but now methinks he speaketh plainly.” Bonner: — “Marry, sir, as you say indeed, he is plain: for he is a plain heretic, and shall be burned. Have the knave away! Let him be carried to Little-ease, at London, until I come.”

    And so was I carried to London unto Little-ease, and there remained that night. And on the next morrow I appeared before him again; the dean of Paul’s and the chancellor of London being present. Then were brought forth certain writings that I had set my hand unto. Bonner: — “Come on your ways, sirrah! Is not this your hand, and this, and this?” Ralph: — “Yea, they are my hand, all of them; I confess the same, neither yet will I deny any thing that I have set my hand unto. But if [have set my hand to anything that is not lawful, therefor am I sorry.

    Nevertheless, my hand I will not. deny to be my doing.” Bonner: — “Well said. Now ye must tell me, Were you never at the church since you went from me, at mass, matins?” etc. Ralph: — “No, my lord; not at mass, matins, nor any other strange worshipping of God.” Bonner: — “Yea, sayest thou soy Wast thou neither at thine own parish church, nor at any other? And dost thou also say, that it is a strange worshipping? Why, I pray thee, wilt thou not believe the Scripture to be true?” Ralph: — “Yea, my lord, I believe the Scripture to be true, and in the defense of the same I intend to give my life, rather than I will deny any part thereof, God willing.” Dean: — “My lord, this fellow will be an honest man, I hear by him.

    He will not stand in his opinion; for he showeth himself gentle and patient in his talk.” Bonner: — “Oh, he is a glorious knave! His painted terms shall no more deceive me. Ah, whoreson prick-louse! doth not Christ say, ‘This is my body?’ and how darest thou deny these words, for to say, as I have a writing to show, and thine own hand at the same? Let me see, wilt thou deny this? Is not this thine own hand?” Ralph: — “Yes, my lord, it is my own hand; neither am I ashamed thereof, because my confession therein is agreeable to God’s word.

    And whereas you do lay unto my charge that I should deny the words of our Savior Jesus Christ; 0 good Lord! from whence cometh this rash, hasty, and untrue judgment? Forsooth not from the Spirit of Truth; for he leadeth men into all truth, and is not the father of liars. Whereupon should your lordship gather or say of me so diffamously? Wherefore, I beseech you, if I deny the Scriptures canonical, or any part thereof, then let me die.” Tye, the Priest: — “My lord, he is a very seditious fellow, and persuadeth other men to do as he himself doth, contrary to the order appointed by the queen’s highness and the clergy of this realm. For a great sort of the parish will be gathered one day to one place, and another day to another p]ace, to hear him; so that very few come to the church to hear divine service. And this was not only before that he was taken and brought unto the council, but also since his return home again, he hath done much harm: for where both men and women were honestly disposed before, by St. Anne now are they as ill as he almost.

    And furthermore, he was not ashamed to withstand me before all the parish, saying, that we were of the malignant church of antichrist, and not of the true church of Christ, alleging a great many of scriptures to serve for his purpose, saying, ‘Good people, take heed, and beware of these blood-thirsty dogs,’ etc. And then I commanded the constable to apprehend him, and so he did. Nevertheless, after his apprehension, the constable let him go about his business all the next day; so that without putting in of sureties, he let him go into Suffolk and other places, for no goodness, I warrant you, my lord. It were alms to teach such officers their duty, how they should not let such rebels go at their own liberty, after that they be apprehended and taken; but to keep them fast in the stocks until they bring them before a justice.” Ralph: — “As I said before, so say I now again; thou art not of the church of Christ; and that will I prove, if I may be suffered. And whereas you said, that you commanded the constable to apprehend me; you did so indeed, contrary to the laws of this realm, having neither to lay unto my charge treason, felony, nor murder; no, neither had you precept, process, nor warrant to serve on me; and therefore I say, without a law was I apprehended. And whereas you seek to trouble the constable, because he kept me not in the stocks three days and three nights, it doth show a part what you are. And my going into Suffolk was not for any evil, but only to buy half a bushel of corn for bread for my poor wife and children, knowing that I had no long time to tarry with them. But: if I had run away, then you would surely have laid somewhat to his charge.” Bonner: — “ Go to, thou art a merchant, indeed. a209 Ah, sirrah! before God thou shalt he burnt with fire. Thou knowest Richard Roth, dost thou not? Is he of the same mind that thou art of, or no? Canst thou tell?” Ralph: — “He is of age to answer, let him speak for himself; for I hear say that he is in your house.” Bonner: — “Lo, what a knave here is! Go Cluney, fetch me Roth hither. By my troth he is a false knave; but yet thou art worse than he.

    Ah, sirrah! did you not set your hand to a writing, the tenor whereof was, that if thou should at any time say or do heretically, then it should be*leaful*for me to take thee as a Relapse, a210 and to proceed in sentence against thee?” Ralph: — “Yea, that is so. But here is to be asked, whether it be sufficient, that my hand or name in writing be able to give authority to you or to any other to kill me? for if I, by writing my name, can do so much, then must my authority be greater than yours. Nevertheless, I have neither said nor done heretically, but like a true christian man have I behaved myself.”

    And so I was committed unto prison again; and the 24th day of the same month, I was brought before the bishop, the lord North, Dr.

    Story, and others; and after a long talk in Latin amongst themselves (unto the which I gave no answer, because they spoke not to me, although they spoke of me), at the last the bishop said, “How say you, sirrah? tell me briefly at one word: Wilt thou be contented to go to Fulham with me, and there to kneel thee down at mass, showing thyself outwardly as though thou didst it with a good will? Go to, speak.” Ralph: — “I will not say so.” Bonner: — “Away with him! away with him!”

    The 2d day of May I was brought before the bishop, and three noblemen of the council, whose names I do not remember. Bonner: — “Lo, my lords! this same is the fellow that was sent unto me from the council, and did submit himself, so that I had half a hope of him: but, by St. Anne, I was always in doubt of him. Nevertheless, he was with me, and fared well, and when I delivered him, I gave him money in his purse. How sayest thou? was it not so as I tell my lords here?” Ralph: — “Indeed, my lord, I had meat and drink enough; but I never came in bed all the while. And at my departing you gave me twelvepence, howbeit I never asked none, nor would have done.” A Lord: — “Be good to him, my lord. He will be an honest man.” Bonner: — “Before God, how should I trust him? he hath once deceived me already. But ye shall hear what he will say to the blessed sacrament of the altar. How say you, sirrah? After the words of consecration be spoken by the priest, there remaineth no bread, but the very body of our Savior Jesus Christ, God and man, and none other substance, under the form of bread?” Ralph: — “Where find you that, my lord, written?” Bonner: — “Lo, sir! Why? Doth not Christ say, ‘This is my body?’

    How sayest thou? Wilt thou deny these words of our Savior Christ?

    Or else was he a dissembler, speaking one thing, and meaning another!

    Go to; now I have taken you.” Ralph: — “Yea, my lord, you have taken me indeed, and will keep me until you kill me. Howbeit, my lord, I marvel why you leave out the beginning of the institution of the supper of our Lord; for Christ said, ‘Take ye, and eat ye; this is my body.’ And if it will please you to join the former words to the latter, then shall I make you an answer: for sure I am, that Christ was no dissembler, neither did he say one thing, and mean another.” Bonner: — “Why? Then must thou needs say, that it is his body; for he saith it himself, and thou confessest that he will not lie.” Ralph: — “No, my lord; he is true, and all men are liars.

    Notwithstanding, I utterly refuse to take the words of our Savior so fantastically as you teach us to take them; for then should we conspire with certain heretics called the Nestorians a211 : for they deny that Christ had a true natural body; and so methinks you do, my lord. If you will affirm his body to be there, as you say he is, then must you needs also affirm, that it is a fantastical body *and not a true natural body*; and therefore look to it for God’s sake, and let these words go before. ‘Take ye, and eat ye;’ without which words the rest are not sufficient. But when the worthy receivers do take and eat, even then are fulfilled the words of our Savior unto him, or every of them that so receiveth.” Bonner: — “Ah! I see well thou canst not understand these words: I will show thee a parable. — If I should set a piece of beef before thee, and say, ‘Eat, it is beef;’ and then take part of it away, and send it to my cook, and he shall change the fashion thereof, and make it look like bread, what! wouldst thou say that it were no beef, because it hath not the fashion of beef?” Ralph: — “Let me understand a little further, my lord. Shall the cook add nothing thereunto, nor take any thing therefrom?” Bonner: — “What is that to the matter, whether he do or no, so long as the shape is changed into another likeness?” Ralph: — “Ah! will you so, my lord? your sophistry will not serve.

    The truth will have the victory nevertheless, as Isaiah saith: ‘He that restraineth himself from evil, must be spoiled.’ (Isaiah 59.) And Amos hath such-like words also, ‘For the wise must be fain to hold their peace; so wicked a time it is,’ (Amos 5.) saith he. Nevertheless, he that can speak the truth, and will not, shall give a strait account for the same.” A Doctor: — “By my lord’s leave, here methinks thou speakest like a fool: wilt thou be a judge of the Scripture? Nay, thou must stand to learn, and not to teach, for the whole congregation hath determined the matter long ago.” A Priest: — “No, by your leave, we have a church, and not a congregation. You mistake that word, master doctor.”

    Then said I to my fellow-prisoners standing by: “My brethren, do ye not hear how these men help one another? Let us do so also.”

    But we never came all in together after that time, but severally one after another. Then was I carried away for that time.

    The 19th day of May I was brought before the bishops of Rochester and Chichester, with others. Rochester: — “Were you a companion of George Eagles, otherwise called Trudgeover? My lord of London telleth me that you were his fellow-companion.” Ralph: — “I know him very well, my lord.” Rochester: — “By my faith, I had him once, and then he was as drunk as an ape; for he stunk so of drink, that I could not abide him; and so sent him away.” Ralph: My lord, I dare say you took your marks amiss. It was either yourself, or some of your own company; for he did neither drink wine, ale, nor beer, in a quarter of a year before that time; and therefore it was not he, forsooth.” The rest of mine examinations you shall have when I am condemned, if I can have any time after my coming into Newgate, the which I trust shall touch the matter a great deal more plainly; for the pithy matters are yet unwritten. Thus fare you well, good friends all; yea, I say, farewell for ever in this present world.

    Greet ye one another, and be joyful in the Lord. Salute the good widows among you, with all the rest of the congregation in Bard field, and Deal- ham, and Colchester.

    This promise of his, being either not performed, for that he might not thereto be permitted, or else if he did write, the same not coming to my hands, I am fain in the rest of his examinations to follow the only report of the registrar; who witnesseth that, the 15th day of May, anno 1557, in the bishop’s palace at London, he was examined upon certain interrogatories, the contents whereof be these: — ARTICLES MINISTERED AGAINST RALPH ALLERTON. 1. That he was of the parish of Much Bentley, and so of the diocese of London. 2. That the 10th day of January then last past, master John Morant preaching at Paul’s *crosse*, the said Ralph Allerton did there openly submit himself unto the church of Rome, with the rites and ceremonies thereof. 3. That he did consent and subscribe as well unto the same submission, as also to one other bill, in the which he granted, that if he should at any time turn again unto his former opinions, it should be then * leaful a212 * for the bishop immediately to denounce and adjudge him as a heretic. 4. That he had subscribed to a bill, wherein he affirmed, that in the sacrament, after the words of consecration be spoken by the priest, there remaineth still material bread and. material wine; and that he believeth that the bread is the bread of thanksgiving, and the memorial of Christ’s death; and that when he receiveth it, he receiveth the body of Christ spiritually in his soul, but material bread in substance. 5. That he had openly affirmed, and also advisedly spoken, that which is contained in the said former fourth article last before specified. 6. That he had spoken against the bishop of Rome, with the church and see of the same, and also against the seven sacraments and other ceremonies and ordinances of the same church, used then within this realm. 7. That he had allowed and commended the opinions and faith of master Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, and others of late burnt within this realm; and believed that their opinions were good and godly. 8. That he had divers times affirmed, that the religion used within this realm, at the time of his apprehension, was neither good, nor agreeable to God’s word, and that he could not conform himself thereunto. 9. That he had affirmed that the book of Common Prayer set forth in the reign of king Edward the sixth, was in all parts good and godly; and that the said Ralph and his company, prisoners, did daily use amongst themselves in prison some part of the same book. 10. Thai; he had affirmed, that if he were out of prison, he would not come to mass, matins, nor evensong; nor bear taper, candle, or palm; nor go in procession; nor would receive holy water, holy bread, ashes, or pax, or any other ceremony of the church then used within this realm. 11. That he had affirmed, that if he were at liberty, he would not confess his sins to any priest, nor receive absolution of him; nor yet would receive the sacrament of the altar, as it was then used. 12. That he had affirmed, that praying to saints and prayers for the dead, were neither good nor profitable; and that a man is not bound to fast and pray but at his own will and pleasure; neither that it is lawful to reserve the sacrament, or to worship it. 13. That the said Allerton hath, according to these his affirmations, abstained and refused to come unto his parish-church ever since the 10th day of January last, or to use, receive, or allow any ceremonies, sacraments, or other rites then used in the church.

    To all the articles he answered affirmatively, denying precisely none of them; saving to this clause, contained in the twelfth article, that a man is not bound to fast and pray but at his own will and pleasure, he said that he had affirmed no such tiling, but he confessed that he had not fasted nor prayed so Oft as he was bound to do. And unto this answer he also subscribed in this sort. “Except it be proved otherwise by the holy Scripture, I do affirm these articles to be true. — By me, Ralph Allerton.”

    The next examination was the 4th day of July; the acts whereof, because they do appear more amply in his other examination, had the 10th day of September, I do here omit, giving you further to understand, that upon the 7th day of the same month of July, he was brought before Dr. Darbishire in the bishop’s palace, who examined him again upon the former articles, and after persuaded him to recant, threatening him that, otherwise, he should be burnt. To whom he boldly answered, “I would I might be condemned even to-morrow; for I perceive my lord,” meaning Bonner, “doth nothing, but seek men’s blood:” upon which saying Darbishire committed him again to prison.

    And the 10th day of September the bishop caused him (with the other three above named) to be brought unto Fulham, and there, in his private chapel within his house, he judicially propounded unto him certain other new articles, of the which the tenors of the first, fifth, sixth, and seventh are already mentioned in the second, third, and fourth former objections.

    As for the rest, the contents thereof here follow: “Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny but that the information given against thee, and remaining now in the acts of this court of thine ordinary, Edmund bishop of London, was and is a true information.”

    This information was given by Thomas Tye, curate of Bentley (of whom you have already heard), and certain other of the same parish and affinity; as namely, John Painter, William Harris, John Barker, John Carter, Thomas Candler, Jeffery Bestwood, John Richard, Richard Mere. The effect whereof was, that one Lawrence Edwards of Bentley aforesaid, had a child that was unchristened; and being demanded by the said Tye, why his child was not baptized, he made answer, it should be when he could find one of his religion (meaning a true professor of Christ’s gospel).

    Whereat the curate said, “Ah! ye have had some instructor that hath schooled you of late.” “Yea,” quoth the said Edwards, “that I have; and if your doctrine be better than his, then I will believe you.” And therewithal fondly offered to fetch him. Whereupon the constable going with him, they brought before the said curate the said Ralph Allerton; of whom in this information they make this report, that he was a seditious person, who, since his coming down from the bishop, had set upon the constable’s door certain seditious letters, moving and persuading thereby the people to follow his malicious disobedience; and that these his persuasions had taken effect in many. And further, that the said Ralph Allerton (the curate asking him whether he had instructed this Lawrence Edwards, that it was against God’s commandment to enter into the church), casting abroad his hands, should say, “O good people! now is fulfilled the saying of the godly priest and prophet Esdras, who saith, ‘The fire of a multitude is kindled against a few: they have taken away their houses, and spoiled their goods,’(2 Esdras 16:68, 72.) etc. Which of you all have not seen this, this day? who is he here amongst you, that seeth not all these things done upon us this day?

    The church which they call us unto, is the church of antichrist, a persecuting church and the church malignant.” With these and many more words (said they), most maliciously and falsely alleged out of the Scriptures, he thus persuaded a great multitude there present, as much as in him lay, unto disobedience: for the which cause the constables did then apprehend him. 3. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny, but that the letter sent unto me by my lord Darcy, beginning with these words, ‘Pleaseth it your lordship,’ etc. was thine own letter, and was subscribed by thine own hand.”

    The contents of the letter mentioned in this article, and written by Allerton unto the lord Darcy, was a confession of his demeanor before his first apprehension, the effect and purport whereof, because it appeareth in the beginning of this his history, I do here omit. 4. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny, but that the other letter, sent also to me from my said lord Darcy, beginning thus, ‘Pleaseth it your lordship,’ etc., and ending with those words, ‘Whensoever it be,’ is thine own very letter, and subscribed with thine own hand.”

    This wets also another letter written by him unto the lord Darcy, the contents whereof were, that whereas the said lord had commanded him to declare where he had been ever since Whitsuntide last, before his first apprehension, this was to certify his lordship, that he was not able so to do, otherwise than as he had already showed him by his former letters.

    And moreover, whereas he charged him to have read unto the ]people abroad in the woods, he certified him that he did never read any thing abroad, saving once, when he was in the company of George Eagles and others, Richard Roth took a writing out of his bosom, and desired the said Ralph to read it, which request he then accomplished. And demanding of him whose doing the same was, the said Roth told that it was master Cranmer’s, late archbishop of Canterbury; and further he could not show him. Nevertheless, he was ready and willing to suffer such punishment as his lordship should think meet, desiring yet that the same might be with favor and mercy, although he feared neither punishment nor death; praying the Lord, that it might be in his fear, whensoever it should be. 8. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny, but that the letters written with blood, beginning with these words, ‘Grace, mercy, and peace,’ etc., and ending thus, ‘Farewell in God,’ remaining now registered in the acts of this court, were written voluntarily with thine own hand.”

    He wrote this letter in the prison with blood’ for lack of other ink, and did mean to send the same unto Agnes Smith, alias Silverside, at that time imprisoned, and afterwards burnt, at Colchester, for the testimony of the gospel of Christ, as before is mentioned; the copy of which letter here ensueth.

    A LETTER WRITTEN BY RALPH ALLERTON, UNTO AGNES SMITH, WIDOW.

    Grace, mercy and peace from God the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ, with the assistance of God’s Holy Spirit, and the abundant health both of soul and body, I wish unto you, as to my own soul, as God knoweth, who is the searcher of all secrets.

    Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his infinite mercy to call me to the state of grace, to suffer martyrdom for Jesus Christ’s sake, although heretofore I have most negligently dallied therewith, and therefore far unworthy I am of such a high benefit, to be crowned with the most joyful crown of martyrdom: nevertheless, it hath pleased God not so to leave me, but hath raised me up again according to his promise, which saith, Although he fall, yet shall he not be hurt; for the Lord upholdeth him with his hand.” (Psalm 37.) Whereby we perceive God’s election to be most sure, for undoubtedly he will preserve all those that are appointed to die. And as he hath begun this work in me, even so do I believe that he will finish the same, to his great glory, and to my wealth, through Jesus Christ. So be it! Dearly beloved sister (I am constrained so to call you, because of your constant faith and love unfeigned), consider, that if we be the true servants of Christ, then may not we in any wise make agreement with his enemy, antichrist. For there is no concord and agreement between them, saith the Scriptures, and a man cannot serve two masters, saith Christ. And also it is prefigured unto us in the old law, where the people of God were most straitly commanded that they should not mingle themselves with the ungodly heathen, and were also forbidden to eat, drink, or to marry with them: for as often as they did either marry unto their sons, or take their daughters unto them, or to their sons, even so oft came the great and heavy wrath of God upon his own people, to overthrow both them and all their cities, with the holy sanctuary of God; and brought in strange princes to reign over them, and wicked rulers to govern them, so that they were sure of hunger, sword, pestilence, and wild beasts to devour them; which plagues never ceased, until the good people of God were clean separated from the wicked idolatrous people. O dearly beloved! this was written for our learning, that we, through patience and comfort of the Scriptures, might have hope. And has it not in like case happened now in this realm of England? for now are the people of God had in derision, and trodden under foot; and the cities, towns, and houses where they dwelt, are inhabited with them that have no right thereunto, and the true owners are spoiled of their labors: yea, and the holy sanctuary of God’s most blessed word, is laid desolate and waste, so that the very foxes run over it, etc. Yet is it the food of our souls, the lantern of our feet, and the light unto our paths; and where it is not preached, there the people perish. But the prophet saith, “He that refraineth himself from evil, must be spoiled. (Isaiah 59.) Why should men then be abashed to be spoiled, seeing that it is told us before, that it must so happen unto them that refrain from evil? And thus I bid you farewell in God. R.A. 9. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny, but that the letters written with blood, beginning with these words in the over part thereof: ‘The angel of God,’ etc., and ended thus, ‘Be with you, amen;’ and having also this post- script, ‘Do ye suppose that our brethren,’ etc. remaining now registered in the acts of this court, are thine own hand-writing.”

    For the better understanding of this article, I have also here inserted the copy of the letter mentioned in the same; which letter he wrote (by his own confession) unto Richard Roth, then in danger of the subtle snares of that bloody wolf, Bonner.

    ANOTHER LETTER WRITTEN BY RALPH ALLERTON UNTO RICHARD ROTH, HIS FELLOW-MARTYR.

    The angel of God pitch his tent about us, and defend us in all our ways; Amen, Amen!

    O dear brother, I pray for you; for I hear say that you have been divers times before my lord in examination. Wherefore take heed for God’s sake what the wise man teacheth you, and shrink not away when you are enticed to confess an untruth for hope of life, but be ready always to give an answer of the hope that is in you.

    For whosoever confesseth Christ before men, him will Christ also confess before his Father: but he that is ashamed to confess him before men, shall have his reward with them that do deny him. And therefore, dear brother, go forward. Ye have a ready way, so fair, as ever had any of the prophets or apostles, or the rest of our brethren, the holy martyrs of God. Therefore covet to go hence with the multitude, while the way is full. Also, dear brother, understand that I have seen your letter; and, although I cannot read it perfectly, yet I partly perceive your meaning therein, and very *fayne a213 * I would copy it out, with certain comfortable additions thereunto annexed; the which as yet will not be brought to pass for lack of paper, until my lord be gone from hence; and then your request shall be accomplished, God willing, without delay. Thus fare ye well in God. Our dear brother and fellow in tribulation, Robert Allin, saluteth you; and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost be with you; Amen. Ralph Allerton .

    Do ye suppose that our brethren and sisters are not yet despatched out of this world? I think that either they are dead, or shall be within these two days.

    As for the other objections yet remaining, and not specified, if it were not more somewhat to show the folly of these bloody tyrants (which of so small trifles take occasions to quarrel with the saints of God), than for any weighty thing therein contained; I would neither trouble you with the reading thereof, nor yet myself with writing. But that ye may judge of them as their doings do give occasion, I will now proceed in the matter. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny, but cofessest, that the writing of letters in a little piece of paper on both sides of it, with this sentence following on the one side: ‘Look at the foot of the stocks, for a knife,’ and with this sentence following upon the other side: ‘Look between the post and the wall, for two books and two epistles; leave them here when ye go,’ remaining now in the register and acts of this court, is voluntarily written by thee, Ralph Allerton, with thine own hand. “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny but that thou art privy to a certain writing remaining now in the registry and acts of this court; the beginning whereof is with these words: ‘I would have men wise,’ etc., and ending thus: ‘from house to house.’ “Item, Thou Ralph Allerton canst not deny but that thou art privy, and of consent and maintenance of a certain great woodknife, a long sword, a214 a hook, a stone, and of a trencher written upon with chalk, having this sentence: ‘All is gone and lost, because of your folly;’ of two boards written upon with chalk, the one having this sentence: ‘Under the stone look,’ and the other having this sentence: ‘Whereas you bid me take heed, I thank you, I trust in God that I shall be at peace with him shortly,’ remaining now registered in the acts of this court.”

    For answer unto all these articles, he granted that the first nine were true, as the registrar recordeth: how, belt, I find noted in the backside of the information, specified in the second article (although crossed out; again), that he denied such things as were there in the same informed against him.

    Wherefore it is not likely that he did simply grant unto the contents of the second article, but rather that he only affirmed, that such an information was given against him, and not that the same was true. Thus much I thought to warn the reader of, lest that in mistaking his answers, it might seem, that he granted himself to be a seditious and a rebellious person; of which fact he was most clear and innocent.

    And being further demanded upon the contents of the eighth article, where he had the blood he wrote that letter withal: he said that Richard Roth, sometime his prison-fellow, did make his nose bleed, and thereby he got the blood wherewith he did then write. The bishop again asked him, to whom he would have sent the same. He answered unto one Agnes Smith, alias Silverside, of Colchester. “Why,” quoth the bishop, “Agnes Smith was a heretic, and is burnt for heresy. “Nay,” said Allerton, “she is in better case than either I myself, or any of us all.”

    Then being again demanded upon the ninth objection, to whom he would have sent the letter mentioned in the same; he answered, that he meant to have sent it unto Richard Roth, at that present separated from him.

    Whereupon the bishop further inquired, what he meant by these words, “Brethren and sisters,” specified in the said letter? He answered, that he meant thereby, such as were lately condemned at Colchester, and were like (at the writing thereof) shortly to be burned.

    Now as for the contents of the tenth and the eleventh articles, he utterly denied them; but to the twelfth he confessed, that he wrote upon the said trencher and other boards the words mentioned in the said article, and that he did leave the same in the prison-house, to the intent that Richard Roth should read them. Bonner also, bringing out the wooden sword mentioned in the said article, asked him who made it, and for what purpose: whereunto he answered, that he was the maker thereof, howbeit for no evil purpose; but being idle in the prison, and finding there an old board, he thought the time better spent in making thereof, than to sit still, and do nothing at all.

    The forenoon being now spent, the rest of this tragedy was deferred until the afternoon; wherein was ministered unto him yet certain other objections, the tenor whereof was this.

    OTHER OBJECTIONS MINISTERED TO RALPH ALLERTON. 1. First, That he had misliked the mass, calling upon saints, and carrying the cross in procession, with other their ceremonies, calling them idolatry, and also had dissuaded them there-from. 2. Item, That he was much desirous to have the people believe as he did; and therefore, being in prison with his fellows, did sing psalms and other songs against the sacrament of the altar and other ordinances of the church, so loud that the people abroad might hear them and delight in them. 3. Item, That he had divers times conspired against his keeper, and had provided things to kill him; and so to break the prison, and escape away. 4. Item, That he had railed against the bishop, being his ordinary, calling him a bloody butcher, tyrant, and ravening wolf; and also against his officers, especially Cluney his stunner, calling him butcher’s cur, with other such names. 5. Item, That he had murmured, grudged, disdained and misliked, that the bishop had proceeded against certain of his diocese, and had condemned them as heretics, or that he should proceed now against him and others yet remaining in errors, notwithstanding that he and his chaplains had charitably admonished and exhorted them from the same. 6. Item, That he ought faithfully to believe, that there is one catholic church, without the which there is no salvation; of the which church Jesus Christ is the very priest and sacrifice, whose body and blood are really and truly contained in the sacrament of the altar, under the forms of bread and wine; the bread and wine being by the divine power transubstantiated into his body and blood. 7. Item, That he had kept himself, and also distributed to others, certain heretical and corrupt books, condemned and reproved by the laws of this realm. 8. Item, That he had, contrary to the orders and statutes of this realm, kept company with that seditious heretic and traitor, George Eagles, commonly called Trudgeover, and had heard him read in woods and other places; yet not accusing, but allowing and praising him.

    Unto which articles, because they were for the most part so foolish and full of lies, he would in a manner make no answer, saving he granted that he did mislike their mass and other ceremonies, because they were wicked and naught. And moreover, he told the bishop, that he and his complices did nothing but seek how to kill innocents.

    The bishop then asked him, whether he would believe in all points touching the sacrament of the altar, as is contained in the general council holden and kept under Innocent the third; and therewithal he did read the decree of the said council touching the sacrament. Whereunto Allerton again made answer and said, “I believe nothing contained in the same council, neither have I any thing to do therewith; and it were also very necessary, that no man else should have to do therewith.” “Then,” quoth Bonner, “thou art of the opinion that the heretics lately burnt; at Colchester were of.” “Yea,” said he, “I am of their opinion, and I believe that they be saints in heaven.”

    This done, the bishop, perceiving that he would not recant, demanded what he had to say, why he should not pronounce the sentence of condemnation against him: to whom he answered, “Ye ought not to condemn me as a heretic, for I am a good Christian. But now go to, do as you have already determined; for I see right well, that right and truth be suppressed, and cannot appear upon the earth.”

    These words ended, the bishop pronounced the sentence of condemnation, and so delivered him unto the temporal officers; who reserved him in their custody until the 17th day of September, at which time both he, and the other three before mentioned, were all burnt, as ye have already heard. Of which other three, because as yet little is said, I will therefore now proceed to declare such cause of their cruel deaths, as in the register is recorded.

    THE STORY OF JAMES AUSTOO AND MARGERY, HIS WIFE.

    Touching the first apprehension of these two persons, I find neither occasion why, neither time, nor manner how: howbeit, as the days then served, it was no hard or strange matter to fall into the hands of such as with cruelty persecuted the true professors of God’s gospel, especially having so many promoters and unneighborly neighbors, to help them forwards. By which kind of people, it is not unlike these two godly yokefellows were accused and taken: and being once delivered into the pitiless handling of Bonner, their examinations (ye may be sure) were not long deferred; for, the 16th day of July, 1557, they were brought before him into his place at London, where first he demanded of the said James Austoo (amongst other questions), Where he had been confessed in Lent, and whether he received the sacrament of the altar at Easter, or not? To whom he answered, that indeed he had been confessed of the curate of Allhallows Barking, nigh to the Tower of London: but that he had not received the sacrament of the altar; for he defied it from the bottom of his heart. “Why,” quoth the bishop, “dost thou not believe, that in the sacrament of the altar there is the true body and blood of Christ?” “No,” said Austoo, “not in the sacrament of the altar; but in the supper of the Lord, to the faithful receiver, is the very body and blood of Christ by faith.”

    Bonner not well pleased with this talk, asked then the wife, how she did like the religion then used in this church of England? She answered that she believed that the same was not according to God’s word, but false and corrupted; and that they which did go thereunto, did it more for fear of the law, than otherwise.

    Then he again asked her, if she would go to the church and hear mass, and pray for the prosperous estate of the king, being then abroad in his affairs.

    Whereunto she said, that she defied the mass with all her heart, and that she would not come into any church wherein were idols.

    After this the bishop objected unto them certain articles, to the number of eighteen; the tenor whereof (because they touch only such common and trifling matters as are already mentioned in divers and sundry places before) I do here for brevity’s sake omit and pass over, giving you yet this much to understand, that in matters of faith they were as sound, and answered as truly (God be therefore praised) as ever any did, especially the woman, to whom the Lord had given the greater knowledge, and more ferventness of spirit. Notwithstanding, according to the measure of grace that God gave them, they both stood most firmly unto the truth. And therefore to conclude, the 10th day of September they were (with Ralph Allerton, of whom ye have heard) brought again before the bishop within his chapel at Fulham, where he, speaking unto them, said first on this wise: “Austoo! dost thou know where thou art now, and in what place, and before whom, and what thou hast to do?” “Yea,” quoth Austoo, “I know where I am; for I am in an idol’s temple.”

    After which words, their articles being again read, and their constancy in faith perceived, Bonner pronounced against either of them severally the sentence of condemnation, and delivering them unto the sheriff there present, did rid his hands (as he thought) of them: but the Lord in the end will judge that; to whom I refer his cause.

    It so happened upon a night, that as this Margery Austoo was in the bishop’s prison (which prison! suppose was his dog-kennel; for it was, as is reported, under a pair of stairs), by the bishop’s procurement there was sent a stout champion (as appeared) about twelve of the clock at night, who suddenly opened the door, and with a knife drawn, or ready prepared, fell upon her, to the intent to have cut her throat, which she by reason of the clearness of the moon perceiving, and calling unto God for help, he (but who it was she knew not), giving a grunt, and fearing belike to commit so cruel a deed, departed his ways without any more hurt-doing.

    The next night following, they caused a great rumbling to be made over her head, which seemed to her to have been some great thunder, which they did, to have feared her out of her wits; but yet, thanks be to God, they missed of their purpose.

    RICHARD ROTH.

    In the godly fellowship of the forenamed three martyrs, was also this Richard Roth, as is already specified; who, being apprehended, and brought up, unto the bishop of London, was by him examined the 4th day of July; at what time the bishop did earnestly travail to induce him to believe that there were seven sacraments in Christ's church; and that in the sacrament of the altar, after the words of consecration duly spoken, there remained the very substance of Christ's body and blood, and none other.

    Whereunto, at that present, he made only this answer: that if the Scripture did so teach him, and that he might be by the same so persuaded, he would so believe; otherwise not. But at another examination, which was the 9th day of September, he declared plainly that in the said sacrament of the altar, as it was then used, there was not the very body and blood of Christ, but that it was a dead god; and that the mass was detestable, and contrary to God's holy word and will, from the which faith and opinion he would not go or decline.

    The next day, being the 10th day of the same month of September, the bishop at his house at Fulham (by way of an article) laid and objected against him, that he was a comforter and boldener of heretics; and therefore had written a letter to that effect unto certain that were burnt at Colchester, the copy whereof ensueth.

    A LETTER WRITTEN BY RICHARD ROTH, Unto certain Brethren and Sisters in Christ, condemned at Colchester, and ready to be burnt for the Testimony of the Truth.

    O dear brethren and sisters, how much have you to rejoice in God, that he hath given you such faith to overcome this blood-thirsty tyrant thus far! And no doubt he that hath begun that good work in you, will fulfil it unto the end. O dear hearts in Christ, what a crown of glory shall ye receive with Christ in the kingdom of God!

    O that it had been the good will of God, that I had been ready to have gone with you: for I lie in my lord's Little-ease in the day, and in the night I lie in the coalhouse, from Ralph Allerton, or any other; and we look every day when we shall be condemned. For he said, that I should be burnt within ten days before Easter; but I lie still at the pool's brink, and every man goeth in before me: but we abide patiently the Lord's leisure, with many bonds, in fetters and stocks, by the which we have received great joy in God. And now fare you well, dear brethren and sisters, in this world; but I trust to see you in the heavens face to face.

    O brother Mount, with your wife and my clear sister Rose, how blessed are you in the Lord, that God hath found you worthy to suffer for his sake, with all the rest of my dear brethren and sisters known and unknown! O be joyful even unto dearth. “Fear it not,” saith Christ; “for I have overcome death,” saith he. O dear hearts! seeing that Jesus Christ will be our help, O tarry you the Lord's leisure. Be strong, let your hearts be of good comfort, and wait you still for the Lord. He is at hand. Yea, the angel of the Lord pitcheth his tent round about them that fear him, and delivereth them which way be seeth best. For our lives are in the Lord's hands; and they can do nothing unto us before God suffer them. Therefore give all thanks to God.

    O dear hearts! you shall be clothed with long white garments upon the mount Sion, with the multitude of saints, and with Jesus Christ our Savior, which will never forsake us. O blessed virgins! ye have played the wise virgins' part, in that you have taken oil in your lamps, that ye may go in with the Bridegroom, when he cometh, into the everlasting joy with him. But as for the foolish, they shall be shut out, because they made not themselves ready to suffer with Christ, neither go about to take up his cross. O dear hearts, how precious shall your death be in the sight of the Lord! for dear is the death of his saints. O fare you well, and pray. the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all: Amen, Amen. Pray, pray, pray.

    By me, Richard Roth , written with my own blood.

    This letter he confessed indeed upon the said examination, that he 'had written with his blood, and that he meant to have sent the same unto such as were condemned at Colchester for the gospel of Jesus 'Christ, and were afterwards burnt there, as ye have already heard.

    The bishop then further asked him, what he thought his prison-fellow Ralph Allerton to be. He answered, that he thought him to be one of the elect children of God; and that if at any time hereafter he happened to be put to death for his faith and religion, he thought he should die a true martyr.

    And moreover, finding himself aggrieved with the bishop's privy and secret condemning of God's people, he said unto him in this sort: “My lord, because the people should not see and behold your doings, ye cause me and others to be brought to our examinations by night, being afraid, belike, to do it by day.”

    The bishop not greatly caring for this talk, proceeded to examine him of other matters, amongst which this high and weighty thing was one; viz., how he did like the order and rites of the church then used here in England.

    To whom he said, that he ever had and yet then did abhor the same with all his heart.

    Then divers of the bishop's complices entreated and persuaded him to recant and ask mercy of the bishop. “No,” quoth Roth, “I will not ask mercy of him that cannot give it.” Whereupon he was (as the rest before mentioned) condemned and delivered unto the sheriff, and the 17th day of September they all most joyfully ended their lives in one fire at Islington, for the testimony of Christ, as before is declared.

    AGNES BONGEOR AND MARGARET THURSTON, TWO GODLY CHRISTIAN WOMEN BURNT AT COLCHESTER FOR THE SINCERE PROFESSION OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL.

    A little before, gentle reader, was mention made of ten, that suffered martyrdom at Colchester; at which time there were two other women also, one called Margaret Thurston, and the other Agnes Bongeor, that should have suffered with them, and were likewise condemned .at the same time and place that the other above-named ten were, for the like cause, and answered also in their examinations the like in effect as the others did. But the one, namely Margaret Thurston, that morning she should suffer with those that went from the castle , a215 was for that time deferred. What the cause was, the testimony of Joan Cook shall declare unto us; which Joan Cook, the wife now of John Spark, being then in the castle of Colchester for religion, did demand of this widow Thurston, whose husband died in the prison, being imprisoned for religion, wherefore the said Margaret being a condemned woman, should be reserved when the others suffered in the castle-baily: she answered, that it was not for any fear of death, but being prepared as the rest were that suffered the same day, she felt in herself a great shivering and trembling of the flesh; whereupon, forsaking the company, she went aside to pray. And whilst she was a praying, she thought that she was lifted up with a mighty wind, that came round about her. Even at that instant came in the gaoler and company with him, and whilst she turned herself to fetch her Psalter, they took the other prisoners, and left her alone. Shortly after she was removed out of the castle, and put into the town-prison, where she continued until Friday sevennight after her company were burnt. That day, not two hours before her death, she was brought to the castle again, where she declared thus much to the foresaid Joan Cook. The other, named Agnes Bongeor, who should have suffered in like manner with the six that went out of Motehall, was also kept back at that time, but not in like sort, because her name was wrong written within the writ, as in the bailiffs' letter of Colchester, sent to Bonner about the same, more plainly doth appear, the tenor whereof hereafter followeth. *A LETTER SENT TO BONNER BISHOP OF LONDON, FROM THE BAILIFFS OF COLCHESTER.

    After our humble commendations unto you, right reverend father, accordingly considered, these are to certify your honorable lordship, that upon Friday the 30th of July last past, in the afternoon of the same day, we received b the hands of Edward Cosen, your lordship's servant, your loving letters, and also the King and Queen's majesties' writ de haereticis comburendis, for the real burning of certain persons convicte and condemned of heresy, then remaining in our custody: which to have executed the next day immediately following we then purposed and much desired; but could not well and conveniently so do, not only for want of necessary provision then immediately to be had, but also by reason of other occasions and impediments. Whereupon we then appointed the execution thereof to be done this present Monday the 2d of August; at which time we, by virtue of the writ, have, according to the tenor and purport thereof, really burned six persons of those which are named in the same writ, that is to say, William Bongeor, Robert Purcase, Thomas Behold, Agnes Silverside, alias Smith, widow; Ellen Ewring, the wife of John Ewring; and Elizabeth Folkes.

    And as touching the seventh person named in the same writ, by the name of Agnes Bowler, the. wife of Richard Bowyer, for that we have no such person of that name, nor known nor called by that name, in our custody, neither any of that name or so known or called hath been before us presented nor indicted, we could not therefore, by virtue of the writ, proceed unto the real burning of any other person than those six, which were rightly named in the same writ. Howbeit for that we have also a seventh person convict and condemned of heresy yet remaining in our custody, called and known by the name of Agnes Bongeor the wife of Richard Bongeor; which was indicted and convict of heresy with the other six before named, and for that the same writ, so misnaming her by. another name than she hath ever heretofore been called or known [by], is no sufficient warrant in law for us to proceed unto the real burning of her, we have thought it good, therefore, to stay the execution and real burning a216 of her, and thought it good also to certify your honorable lordship thereof. Wherefore, if it may please your good lordship to signify the same her name unto the right reverend father in God, the lord chancellor of England, and further to send unto us another writ of the King's and Queen's majesties, for our warrant to burn really the same Agnes Bongeor, the wife of Richard Bongeor; and by that name, we then shall forthwith, and with like diligence, execute the same; as we have already done upon those six persons before named. Thus we commend your lordship to Almighty God, who preserve your honorable estate, in much honor long to continue! — From Colchester, the said second day of August 1557.

    Your lordship's assured to command, Robert Brown, Robert Mainard , bailiffs.* The same morning, the 2d of August, that the said six in Mote-hall were called out to go to their martyrdom, was Agnes Bongeor also called with them, by the name of Agnes Bowyer. Wherefore the bailiffs, understanding her (as I said) to be wrong named within the writ, commanded the said Agnes Bongeor to prison again, as ye have heard in the letter before named; and so from Mote-hall that day sent her to the castle, where she remained until her death.

    But when she saw herself so separated from her said prison-fellows in that sort, O good Lord! what piteous moan that good woman made, how bitterly she wept, what strange thoughts came into her mind, how naked and desolate she esteemed herself, and into what plunge of despair and care her poor soul was brought, it was piteous and wonderful to see; which all came because she went not with them to give her life in the defense of her Christ; for of all things in the world, life was least looked for at her hands.

    For that morning in which she was kept back from burning, had she put on a smock, that she had prepared only for that purpose. And also having a child, a little young infant sucking on her, whom she kept with her tenderly all the time that she was in prison, against that day likewise did she send away to another nurse, and prepared herself presently to give herself for the testimony of the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ. So little did she look for life, and so greatly did God's gifts work in her above nature, that death seemed a great deal better welcome than life. But this took not effect at that time, as she thought it would; and therefore (as I said) was she not a little troubled.

    Being in this great perplexity of mind, a friend of hers came to her, and required to know whether Abraham's obedience was accepted before God, for that he did sacrifice his son Isaac, or in that he would have offered him?

    Unto which she answered thus: “I know,” quod she, “that Abraham's will before God was allowed for the deed, in that he would have done it, if the angel of the Lord had not stayed him: but I,” said she, “am unhappy, the Lord thinketh me not worthy of this dignity: and therefore Abraham's case and mine is not alike.” “Why,” quod her friend, “would ye not willingly have gone with your company, if God should so have suffered it?” “Yes,” said she, “with all my heart; and because I did not, it is now my chief and greatest grief.

    Then said her friend, “My clear sister, I pray thee consider Abraham and thyself well, and thou shalt see thou dost nothing differ with him in will at all.” “Alas, nay,” quod she, “there is a far greater matter in Abraham than in me; for Abraham was tried with the offering of his own child, but so am not! ' and therefore our cases are not alike.” “Good sister,” quod her friend, “weigh the matter but indifferently.

    Abraham, I grant,” said he, “would have offered his son: and have not you done the like, in your little sucking babe? But consider further than this, my good sister,” said he, “whereas Abraham was commanded but to offer his son, you are heavy and grieved because you. offer not yourself, which goeth somewhat more near you, than Abraham's obedience did; and therefore before God, assuredly, is no less accepted and allowed in his holy presence: which further the preparing of your shroud also, doth argue full well,” etc. After which talk between them, she began a little to stay herself, and gave her whole exercise to reading and prayer, wherein she found no little comfort.

    In the time that these foresaid two good women were prisoners, one in the castle, and the other in Mote-hall, God by a secret mean called the said Margaret Thurston unto his truth again; who, having her eyes opened by the working of his Spirit, did greatly sorrow and lament her backsliding before, and promised faithfully to the Lord, in hope of his mercies, never more while she lived to do the like again, but that she would constantly stand to the confession of the same, against all the adversaries of the cross of Christ. After which promise made, came in a short time a writ from London for the burning of them, which according to the effect thereof was executed the 17th day of September, in the year aforesaid.

    Now, when these foresaid good women were brought to the place in Colchester where they should suffer, the 17th day of September in the year aforesaid, they fell down upon both their knees, and made their humble prayers unto the Lord: which thing being done, they rose and went to the stake joyfully, and were immediately thereto chained; and after the fire had compassed them about, they with great joy and glorious triumph gave up their souls, spirits, and lives, into the hands of the Lord, under whose government and protection, for Christ's sake we beseech him to grant us his holy defense and help for evermore, Amen!

    Thus, gentle reader! God chooseth the weak things of the world, to confound mighty things.

    JOHN KURDE MARTYR.

    In the story before, was something touched of a certain shoemaker suffering at Northampton, being unnamed, whom because we understand by a letter sent from the said parties, that he suffered in this year 1557, and in the month of September, therefore we thought there to place him.

    His name was John Kurde, a shoemaker, late of the parish of Syresham, in Northamptonshire, who was imprisoned in Northampton castle for denying the popish transubstantiation, for the which cause William Binsley bachelor of law, and chancellor unto; the bishop of Peterborough, and now archdeacon of Northampton, did pronounce sentence of death against the said Kurde, in the church of All Saints in Northampton, in August, anno 1557. And in September following, at the commandment of sir Thomas Tresham a217 , sheriff then of the shire, he was led by his officers without the north gate of Northampton, and in the stone pits was burnt. A popish priest standing by, whose name was John Rote, vicar of St. Giles's, in Northampton, did declare unto him, that if he would recant, he was authorized to give him his pardon. His answer was, that he had his pardon by Jesus Christ, etc.

    A TRUE CERTIFICATE OF THE TAKING OF ONE JOHN NOYLES, OF LARFIELD, IN THE COUNTY OF SUFFOLK, SHOEMAKER, WHO WAS TAKEN THE 9TH DAY OF APRIL, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD GOD 1557, AS HEREAFTER FOLLOWETH.

    In the month of September this present year, or (as some report) in the year past, suffered the blessed martyr, John Noyes, whose story here followeth:- First, master Thomas Lovel, being then chief constable of Hoxne hundred, in the county aforesaid and one John Jacob, and William Stannard, then being under-constables of the foresaid town of Laxfield, and Wolfren Dowsing, and Nicholas Stannard, of the same town, being then accounted faithful and catholic christians, though undoubtedly they proved most cruel hinderers of the true professors of Christ and his gospel, with others, were commanded to be that present day before the justices, whose names were master Thurston, sir John Tyrrel, and master Kene, and sir John Silllard being high sheriff.

    These sitting at Hoxne, in the county of Suffolk aforesaid, and there the said townsmen aforesaid having commandment of the said justices to inquire in their town, if there were any that would neglect to come to their service and mass; further, to examine the cause why they would not come, and thereupon to bring the true certificate to the said justices within fourteen days then next ensuing; they then coming homeward, being full of hatred against the truth, and desirous to get promotion, without any such commandment of the justices (as far as we can learn) took counsel one with another how to attach the said John Noyes without any more delay.

    This devilish enterprise agreed upon, chiefly through the counsel of master Thomas Lovel, Wolfren Dowsing, and Nicholas Stannard aforesaid, with expedition his house was beset on both sides. This done, they found the said John Noyes on the backside of the said house going outward; and Nicholas Stan-nard called to the said John, and said, “Whither goest thou?” And he said, “To my neighbors! And the said Nicholas Stannard said, “Your master hath deceived you; you must go with us now.” But the said John Noyes answered, “No, but take you heed your master deceive not you.” And so they took him and carried him to the justices the next day. After his appearance, and sundry causes alleged, the justices and the sheriff together cast him into Eye-dungeon, and there he lay a certain time, and then was carried front thence to Norwich, and so came before the bishop, where were ministered unto him these positions following: — 1. Whether he believed that the ceremonies used in the church were good and godly to stir up men's minds to devotion. 2. Item, Whether he believed the pope to be supreme head of the church herein earth. 3. Item, Whether he believed the body of our Lord Jesus Christ to be in the sacrament of the altar under the forms of bread and wine, after the words of consecration.

    Whereunto he answered, that he thought the natural body of Christ to be only in heaven, and not in the sacrament, etc. For the which, sentence at last was read by the bishop against him, in the presence of these there sitting the same time: Dr. Dunning, chancellor, sir W.

    Woodhouse, sir Thomas Wood-house, master George Heyden, master Spenser, W. Farrar, alderman of Norwich, master Thurston, Winesden, with divers other.

    More of his examination than this, came not to our hands.

    In the mean time his brother-in-law, one Nicholas Fisk, of Dennington, going to comfort him at such time as he remained prisoner in the Guildhall of Norwich, after christian exhortation, asked him if he did fear death when the bishop gave judgment against him, considering the terror of the same: and the said. Noyes answered, he thanked God he feared death no more at that time, than he or any other did, being at liberty. Then the said Nicholas required him to show the cause of his condemnation: upon which request the said John Noyes wrote with his own hand as followeth: — “I said,” quoth he, “that I could not believe that in the sacrament of the altar there is the natural body of Christ, the same body that was born of the Virgin Mary.” But I said, that the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ is received of christian people in the remembrance of Christ's death, as a spiritual food, if it be ministered according to Christ's institution.

    But they said, I could not tell what spiritual meant.

    The bishop said, that the sacrament was God, and must be worshipped as God. So said the chancellor also.

    Then answered I, “My lord, I cannot so believe.” “Then,” quoth the bishop, “why? Then say thou dost believe.”

    Notwithstanding these collusions could not prevail.

    Now being condemned, he was sent again from Norwich to Eyeprison; and upon the 21st day of September, in the year aforesaid, about midnight, he was brought from Eye to Laxfield, to be burnt; and on the next-day morning was brought to the stake, where were ready against his coming the foresaid justice, master Thurston, one master Waller, then being undersheriff, and master Thomas Lovel, being high constable, as is before expressed; the which commanded men to make ready all things meet for that sinful purpose. Now the fire in most places of the street was put out, saving a smoke was espied by the said Thomas Lovel proceeding out from the top of a chimney, to which house the sheriff and Grannow his man went, and brake open the door, and thereby got fire, and brought the same to the place of execution. When John Noyes came to the place where he should be burnt, he kneeled down and said the 50th Psalm, with other prayers; and then they, making haste, bound him to the stake. And being bound, the said John Noyes said, “Fear not them that can kill the body, but fear him that can kill both body and soul, and east it into everlasting fire.” When he saw his sister weeping, and making moan for him, he bade her that she should not weep for him, but weep for her sins. Then one Nicholas Cadman, being hastler, a218 a valiant champion in the pope's affairs, brought a faggot and set against him; and the said John Noyes took up the faggot and kissed it, and said, “Blessed be the time that ever I was born to come to this.” Then he delivered his Psalter to the under-sheriff, desiring him to be good to his wife and children, and to deliver to her that same book: and the sheriff promised him that he would, notwithstanding he never as yet performed his promise. Then. the said John Noyes said to the people, “They say, they can make God of a piece of bread; believe them not!”

    Then said he, “Good people, bear witness that I do believe to be saved by the merits and passion of Jesus Christ, and not by mine own deeds.” And so the fire was kindled, and burnt about him. Then he said, “Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have mercy upon me! Son of David have mercy upon me!”

    And so he yielded up his life. And when his body was burned, they made a pit to bury the coals and ashes, and amongst the same they found one of his feet that Was unburnt, whole up to the ankle, with the hose on; and that they buried with the rest.

    Now while he was a burning, there stood one John Jarvis by, a man's servant of the same town, a plain fellow, which said, “Good Lord, how the sinews of his arms shrink up!” And there stood behind him one Grannow, and Benet, being the sheriff's men, and. the\) said to their master, that John Jarvis said, “What villain wretches are these!” And their master bade lay hand on him, and they took him and pinioned him, and carried him before the justice that same day; and the justice did examine him of the words aforesaid; but he denied them, and answered that he said nothing but this, “Good Lord, how the sinews of his arms shrink up!” But, for all this, the justice did bind his father and his master in five pounds a-piece, that he should be forthcoming at all times.

    And on the Wednesday next he was brought again before the justices, master Thurston and master Kene, they sitting at Fressing-field in Hoxne hundred; and there they did appoint and command, that the said John Jarvis should be set in the stocks the next market-day, and whipt about the market, naked. But his master, one William Jarvis, did after crave friendship of the constables; and they did not set him in the stocks till Sunday morning. And in the afternoon they did whip him about the market with a dog-whip, having three cords; and so they let him go. — Some do give out, that John Jarvis was whipt for saying that Nicholas Cadman was Noyes's hastier; that is, such an one as maketh and hasteth the fire.

    THE COPY OF A CERTAIN LETTER THAT JOHN NOYES SENT TO COMFORT HIS WIFE, AT SUCH TIME AS HE LAY IN PRISON.

    Wife, you desired me that I would send you some tokens that you might remember me. As I did read in the New Testament, I thought it good to write unto you certain places of the Scripture for a remembrance. St. Peter saith, “Dearly beloved, be not troubled with this heat that is now come among you to try you, as though some strange thing had happened unto you; but rejoice, insomuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings, that when his glory appeareth, ye may be merry and glad. If ye be railed on for the name of Christ, happy are ye; for the Spirit of glory, and the Spirit of God resteth upon you.” (1 Peter 4.) “It is better, if the will of God be so, that ye suffer for well doing, than for evil doing.” (1 Peter 3.)

    So 1 Peter 4: “See that none of you suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or an evil-doer, or as a busybody in other men's matters. But if any man suffer as a christian man, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in this behalf; for the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God. If it first begin at us, what shall the end of them be, that believe not the gospel of God? Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God, commit their souls to him in well doing.”

    St. Paul saith, “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus, must suffer persecution.” (2 Timothy 3.)

    St. John saith, “See that ye love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him: for all that is in the world, as the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world, which vanisheth away and the lust thereof; but he that fulfilleth the will of God, abideth for ever.”(1 John 2.)

    St. Paul saith, “If ye be risen again with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things that are above, and not on things which are on earth.” (Colossians 3.)

    Our Savior Christ saith, “Whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the sea.” (Matthew 18.)

    The prophet David saith, “Great are the troubles of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth them out of all.” “Fear the Lord, ye his saints: for they that fear him lack nothing.” “When the righteous cry, the Lord heareth them, and delivereth them out of all their troubles: but misfortune shall slay the ungodly, and they that hate the righteous shall perish.” (Psalm 34.) “Hear, O my people! I assure thee, O Israel! if thou wilt hearken unto me, there shall no strange god be in thee, neither shalt thou worship any other God. O that my people would obey me! for if Israel would walk in my ways, I should soon put down their enemies, and turn my hand against their adversaries.”

    Our Savior Christ. saith,.” The disciple is not. above his master, nor yet. the servant above Ins lord. It is enough for the disciple to be as his master is, and that the servant be as his lord is. If they have called the Master of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call them of his household so; fear not them therefore.”

    St. Paul saith, “ Set yourselves therefore at large a219 , and bear not a stranger's yoke with the unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? what company hath light with darkness? either what part hath the believer with the infidel,” etc.? “Wherefore come out from among them, and separate yourselves now (saith the Lord), and touch none unclean thing; so will I receive you, and I will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.” (2 Corinthians 6.) “For neither eye hath seen, nor the ear hath heard, neither can it enter into the heart of man, what good things the Lord hath prepared for them that love him.” (1 Corinthians 2.) “Ye are bought neither with silver nor gold, but with the precious blood of Christ.” (1 Peter 1.) “There is none other name given to men, wherein we must be saved.” (Acts 4.)

    So fare ye well, wife and children! and leave worldly care, and see that ye be diligent to pray. “Take no thought,” saith Christ, “saying, What shall we eat, or What shall we drink, or Wherewith shall we be clothed? for after all these things seek the Gentiles; for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of heaven, and the righteousness thereof; and all these things shall be ministered unto you.” (Matthew 6.)

    THE MARTYRDOM AND SUFFERINGS OF CICELY ORMES, BURNT AT NORWICH FOR THE TESTIMONY AND WITNESS OF CHRIST'S GOSPEL.

    About the 23d day of the said month of September, next after the other above mentioned, suffered at Norwich, Cicely Ormes, wife of Edmund Ormes, worsted-weaver, dwelling in St. Laurence's parish in Norwich. She, being of the age of thirty-two years or more, was taken at the death of Simon Miller and Elizabeth Cooper above mentioned, in a place called Lollards'-pit without Bishop's-gate, at the said Norwich, for that she said she would pledge them of the same cup that they drank on. For so saying, one master Corbet of Sprouston by Norwich, took her and sent her to the chancellor, When she came before him, he asked her what she said unto the sacrament of Christ's body; and she said, she did believe that it was the sacrament of the body of Christ. “Yea,” said the chancellor, “but what is that that the priest holdeth over his head?” She answered him and said, “It is bread: and if you make it any better, it is worse.” At which words the chancellor sent her to the bishop's prison, to the keeper called Fellow, with many threatening and hot words, as a man being in a great chafe.

    The 23d day of July she was called before the chancellor again, who sat in judgment with master Bridges and others. the chancellor offered her, if she would go to the church and keep her tongue, she should be at liberty, and believe as she would. But she told him she would not consent to his wicked desire therein, do with her what he would; for if she should, she said, God would surely plague her. Then, the chancellor told her, he had showed more favor to her, than ever he did to any, and that he was loth to condemn her, considering that she was an ignorant, unlearned, and foolish woman. But she, not weighing his words, told him, if he did, he should not be so desirous of her sinful flesh, as she would (by God's grace)be content to give it in so good a quarrel. Then rose he and read the bloody sentence of condemnation against her; and so delivered her to the secular power of the sheriffs of the city, master Thomas Sutherton, and master Leonard Sutherton, brethren, who immediately carried her to the Guildhall in Norwich, where she remained until her death.

    This Cicely Ormes was a very simple woman, but yet zealous in the Lord's cause, being born in East Derchain, and was there the daughter of one Thomas Haund, tailor. She was taken the 5th day of July, and did for a twelvemonth before she was taken, recant; but never after was she quiet in conscience, until she was utterly driven from all their popery. Between the time that she recanted, and that she was taken, she had gotten a letter made to give to the chancellor, to let him know that she repented her recantation from the bottom of her heart, and would never do the like again while she lived: but before she exhibited her bill, she was taken and sent to prison, as is before said. She was burnt the 23d day of September, between seven and eight of the clock in the morning, the said two sheriffs being there, and of people to the number of two hundred. When she came to the stake, she kneeled down, and made her prayers to God: that being done, she rose up and said, “Good people!. I believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, three persons and one God. This do I not, nor will I recant: but I recant utterly from the bottom of my heart the doings of the pope of Rome, and all his popish priests and shavelings. I utterly refuse and never will have to do with them again, by God's grace. And, good people! I would you should not *report a220 * of me that I believe to be sated in that I offer myself, here unto the death for the Lord's cause, but I believe to be saved by the death and passion of Christ; and this my death is and shall be a witness of my faith unto you all here present. Good people! as many of you as believe as I believe, pray for me.”

    Then she came to the stake, and laid her hand on it, and said, “Welcome the cross of Christ.” Which being done, she, looking on her hand, and seeing it blacked with the stake, wiped it upon her smock; for she was burnt at the same stake that Simon Miller and Elizabeth Cooper was burnt at. Then, after she had touched it with her hand, she came and kissed it, and said, “Welcome the sweet cross of Christ;” and so gave herself to be bound thereto. After the tormentors had kindled the fire to her, she said, “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit rejoiceth in God my Savior.” And in so saying, she set her hands together right against her breast, casting her eyes and head upward; and so stood, heaving up her hands by little and little, till the very sinews of her arms did brast in sonder, and then they fell. But she yielded her life unto the Lord as quietly as if she had been in a slumber, or as one feeling no pain; so wonderfully did the Lord work with her: his name therefore be praised for evermore.

    Amen!

    THE TROUBLE AND DISTURBANCE AMONG GOOD MEN AND WOMEN AT LITHFIELD After the death and martyrdom of mistress Joyce Lewes, a little above specified, divers good. men and women in the same town of Lichfield were vexed and in trouble a221 before the bishop and his chancellor, for kissing the said Joyce Lewes, and drinking with her about the time of her death; the names of which persons were these: Joan Love, Elizabeth Smith, Margaret Biddel, Helen Bowring, Margaret Cootesfote, Nicholas Bird, John Harlstone and his wife, Agnes Glyn, Agnes Glover, Agnes Penifather, etc. These with others were produced to their examination before the bishop and his chancellor for the cause abovenamed, and therefor adjudged for heretics, for that they did pray and drink with the said mistress Lewes; but especially Agnes Penifather sustained the most trouble, for that she *brought* the said Joyce a222 Lewes going to her death; which Agnes, being examined further of the said bishop, what words she had spoken to two priests of the church of Lichfield called John Ady and James Foxe, concerning the said Joyce Lewes after her burning, said, as followeth: that she being asked by the said two priests being at her father's house in the city of Lichfield, at such time as she came from the burning of the said Joyce Lewes, wherefore she (the said Agnes) did weep for such a heretic, meaning Joyce Lewes, whose soul they said was in hell; the said Agnes Penifather to their demand made this answer — that she thought the said blessed martyr to be in better case that the said two priests were.

    With the which words being charged, and willed to submit herself as the others had done above rehearsed, to such penance as they should enjoin unto her, she refused so to do, and therefore was commanded to close prison, the sheriffs being charged with her under pain of one hundred pounds, that none should have any access unto her. At length, at the persuasion of her friends she was compelled to do as the others had done before. And thus much concerning things done at Lichfield.

    THE PERSECUTION AND CRUELTY EXERCISED BY THE PAPTISTS IN THE DIOCESE OF CHICHESTER.

    And now from Lichfield to come to Chichester although we have but little to report thereof, for lack of certain relation and records of that country, yet it seemeth no little trouble and persecution there also to have raged, as in other countries. For what place was there almost in all the realm, where the pope's ministers did not bestir them, murdering some or other, as in the Acts of this Ecclesiastical History may sufficiently appear? Wherefore, as this plague of the pope's tyranny was general to all other people and countries of England, so likewise in the diocese of Chichester, divers and many there were condemned and martyred for the true testimony of righteousness, within the compass of queen Mary's reign, in the number of whom were these: — John Foreman of East Grinstead, John Warner of Bourne, Christian Grover of the archdeaconry of Lewes, Thomas Athoth, priest, Thomas Avington of Ardingley, Dennis Burgis of Buxted, Thomas Ravensdale of Rye, John Milles of Hellingley, Nicholas Holden of Withyham, John Hart of Withyham, Margery Morice of Heathfield, Anne Try of East Grillstead, John Oseward of Woodmancott, Thomas Harland of Woodmancott, James Morice of Heathfield, Thomas Dougate of East Grinstead, John Ashedon of Cattesfield a223 : martyrs.

    The greatest doers against these godly and true faithful martyrs, and setters upon their condemnation, were these: Christopherson (the bishop after Day); Richard Briesly, doctor of law, and chancellor of Chichester; Robert Tailor bachelor of the law, his deputy; Thomas Paccard civilian; Anthony Clarke, Albane Langdale bachelor of divinity, etc.

    THE EXAMINATION OF THOMAS SPURDANCE, ONE OF QUEEN MARY'S SERVANTS, BEFORE THE CHANCELLOR OF NORWICH.

    The bishop's chancellor did ask me if I had been with the priest, and confessed my sins unto him. And I said, “No, I had confessed my sins to God, and God saith, In what hour soever a sinner doth repent, and be sorry for his sins, and ask him forgiveness, willing no more so to do, he will no more reckon his sin unto him; and that is sufficient for me.”

    Then said the chancellor, “Thou deniest the sacrament of penance.”

    I said, “I deny not penance; but I deny that I should show my sins unto the priest.”

    Then said the chancellor, “That is a denying of the sacrament of penance. Write this article.” “Have you received the blessed sacrament of the altar,” said he, at this time of Easter?” And I said, “No.” “And why have you not?” saith he. I said, “I dare not meddle with you in it, as you use it.” “Why, do we not use it truly?” said he. I said, “No: for the holy supper of the Lord serveth for the christian congregation, and you are none of Christ’s members; and therefore I dare not meddle with you, lest I be like unto you.” “Why are we none of Christ's members?” said the chancellor. I said, “Because you teach laws contrary to God's laws.” “What laws are those?” said he. I said, “These three articles that you swear the people unto here, be false and untrue; and you do evil to swear the people unto them.”

    Then said he, “Good people! take no heed unto his words, for he is a heretic, and teacheth you disobedience:” and so he would no more speak of that matter.

    Then said he, “How believest thou in the blessed sacrament of the altar? Dost thou not believe that after it is consecrated, it is the very same body that: was born of the Virgin Mary?” I said, “No, not the same body in substance: for the same body hath a substance in flesh, blood, and bones, and was a bloody sacrifice; and this is a dry sacrifice.”

    And I said, “Is the mass a sacrifice?” Unto which a doctor answered that sat by him, “It is a sacrifice both for the quick and the dead.”

    Then said I, “No, it is no sacrifice; for St. Paul saith that Christ made one sacrifice once for all: and I do believe in none other sacrifice, but only in that one sacrifice that our Lord Jesus Christ made once for all.”

    Then said the doctor, “That sacrifice that Christ made, was a wet sacrifice, and the mass is a dry sacrifice.” Then said I, “that same dry sacrifice is a sacrifice of your own making, and it is your sacrifice; it is none of mine.”

    Then said the chancellor, “He is a heretic: he denieth the sacrament of the altar.”

    Then said I, “Will ye know how I believe in the holy supper of our Lord?” And he said, “Yea.”

    Then said I, “I believe that if I come rightly and worthily, as God hath commanded me, to the holy supper of the Lord, I receive him by faith, by believing in him. But the bread, being received, is not God; nor the bread, that is yonder in the pix, is not God. God dwelleth not in temples made with hands, neither will be worshipped with the works of men's hands. And therefore you do very evil to cause the people to kneel down and worship the bread: for God did never bid you hold it above your heads, neither had the apostles such use.”

    Then said the chancellor, “He denieth the presence in the sacrament. Write this article also. He is a very heretic.'“ Then said I, “The servant is not greater than his master: for your predecessors killed my Master Christ, the prophets and apostles, and holy virtuous men; and now you also kill the servants of Christ: so that all the righteous blood that hath been shed, even from righteous Abel until this day, shall be required at your hands.” “Well,” said the chancellor, “have him away!”

    ANOTHER EXAMINATION OF SPURDANCE, BEFORE THE BISHOP IN HIS HOUSE.

    The bishop said, “Sirrah, dost thou not believe in the catholic faith of holy church?” And I said, “I believe Christ's catholic church.” “Yea,” said he, “in Christ's church, of the which the pope is the head? Dost thou not believe that the pope is supreme head of the catholic church?”

    And I said, “No, I believe not that he should be above the apostles, if he take them to be his predecessors. For when there came a thought among the apostles, who should be the greatest when their Master was gone, Christ answered them unto their thoughts, 'The kings of the earth bear domination above other: but ye shall not so do; for he that will be greatest among you, shall become servant unto you all. (Luke 22.) “How is it then,” said I, “that he will climb so high above his fellows? And also we were sworn in my master king Henry's time, that we should to the uttermost of our power, never consent to him again. And therefore as he hath nothing to do here in England, so neither in his own country, more than a bishop hath in his diocese.” “Yea,” said the bishop, “what of that? We were then in error and sin; now we are in the right way again. And therefore thou must come home again with us, and knowledge thy fault, and become a christian man, and be sworn unto the pope as our supreme head. — Wilt thou be sworn unto the pope? How sayest thou?”

    Then I said, “No, I warrant you; by the grace of God not as long as I live! For you cannot prove by the Scripture that the pope is head of the church, and may do therein what him listeth.” “No!” said he; “yes, I trow: for as the bellwether which weareth the bell, is head of the flock of sheep, even so is the pope the head of the church of Christ. And as the bees in the hive have a masterbee a224 , when they are gone out, to bring them home again to the hive: even so the pope, when we be gone astray and wandered from the fold, from the hive, etc., then is ordained our head by succession of Peter, to bring us home again to the true church; as thou now, my good fellow, hast wandered long out of the way like a scattered sheep, etc. Hear therefore that bellwether, the masterbee, etc., and come home with us to thy mother the true church again.”

    Unto whom I answered, “My lord, all this is but natural reason, and no Scripture. But since ye cannot prove the pope to be authorized by Scripture, ye answer not me as I thought ye would.” “Hah!” said he, “I see well ye be stout, and will not be answered: therefore ye shall be compelled by law, whether ye will or no.” “My lord,” said I, “so did your forefathers entreat Christ and his apostles. They had a law, and by their law they put him to death; and so likewise you have a law, which is tyranny, and by that would ye enforce me to believe as you do. But the Lord, I trust, will assist me against all your beggarly cere monies, and make your foolishness known to all the world one day.”

    Then said he, “When were ye at church, and went in procession, and did the ceremonies of the church?” And I said, “Never since I was born.” “No!” said he: “how old are you?” And I said, “I think about forty.” “Why,” said he, “how did you use yourself at church twenty years ago?” I said, “As you do now.” “And even now,” said he, “you said you did not use the ceremonies since you were born.” “No more I did,” said I, “since I was born anew; as Christ said unto Nicodemus, 'Except ye be born anew, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.'” Then said a doctor that. sat by, “He is a very anabaptist; for that is their opinion plain. “No sir, you say falsely,” said I; “for I am no anabaptist: for they deny children to be baptized, and so do not I.” “Well,” said the bishop, “why dost thou not go to the church, and do the ceremonies?” And I said, “Because they be contrary to God's word and laws, as you yourself have taught: but now you say, it is good again. And I think if there were a return tomorrow you would say that is false again, which you hold now: therefore, I may well say, there is no truth in you.”

    Then said the bishop, thou art a stubborn fellow, and a heretic, and a traitor. “No,” said I, “I am no traitor; for I have done, I think, better service to the crown imperial of England, than you.” “If you had done so good service,” said he, “you would be obedient to the laws of the realm.” “So I am,” said I. “There is no man alive (I thank God) that can accuse me justly, that ever I was disobedient to any civil laws. But you must consider, my lord, that I have a soul and a body, and my soul is none of the queen's, but my body and my goods are the queen's. And I must give God my soul, and all that belongeth unto it; that is, I must do the laws and commandments of God: and whosoever commandeth laws contrary to God's laws, I may not do them for losing of my soul, but must rather obey God than man.”

    And he said, “Why dost thou not these laws then? are they not agreeable to God's law?” And I said, “No, you cannot prove them to be God's laws.” “Yes,” saith he, “that I can.”

    Then said I, “If you can prove me by the word of God, that you should have any graven images made to set in your churches for laymen's books, or to worship God by them, or that you should have any ceremonies in your church as you have, prove them by the word of God, and I will do them.”

    Then said he, “It is a good and decent order to furnish the church: as when you shall go to dinner, you have a cloth upon the table, to furnish the table before the meat shall come upon it; so are these ceremonies a comely decent order to be in the church among christian people.” “These,” said I, “are inventions and imaginations out of your own brain, without any word of God to prove them. For God saith, ' Look what you think good in your own eyes: if I command the contrary, it is abominable in my sight.' And these ceremonies are against God's laws. For St. Paul saith, they be weak and beggarly, and rebuketh the Galatians for doing them.” “Well,” said he, “if you will not do them, seeing they be the laws of the realm, you are a heretic and disobedient: and therefore come home again and confess -your fault with us, that you have been in error. Will you do so?” And I said, “No, I have been in no error: for the spiritual laws were never trulier set forth than in my master king Edward's time, and I trust unto God I shall ' never forsake them while I live.”

    Then came a gentleman to me and said, “Are ye wiser than all men? and have ye more knowledge than all men? Will ye cast away your soul willingly? My lord, and other men also, would fain you would save yourself: therefore choose some man where you will, either spiritual or temporal, and take a day; my lord will give it you.”

    Then said I, “If I save my life, I shall lose it; and if I lose my life for Christ's sake, I shall find it in life everlasting. And if I take a day, when the day cometh. I must say then even as I do now, except I will lie, and therefore that needeth not.” “Well, then have him away,” said the bishop.

    This above-named Thomas Spurdance was one of queen Mary's' servants, and was taken by two of his fellows, the said queen's servants, named John Haman, otherwise called Barker, and George Looson, both dwelling in Coddenham, in the county of Suffolk, who carried him to one master Gosnall, dwelling in the said Coddenham, and by him he was sent to Bury, where he remained in prison; and afterwards burnt in the month of November.

    THE STORY AND MARTYRDOM OF JOHN HALLINGDALE, WILLIAM SPARROW AND RICHARD GIBSON, THREE CONSTANT WITNESSES OF CHRIST.

    Not long after the martyrdom of the two good women at Colchester, above named, were three faithful witnesses of the Lord's testament; tormented and put to death in Smithfield at London, the 18th of November, in the year aforesaid, whose names hereafter follow: John Hallingdale, William Sparrow, and Richard Gibson.

    Which three were produced before Bonner Bishop of London, the 5th day of November, 1557, and had by him and his officers certain articles ministered unto them; the sum whereof hereafter followeth.

    ARTICLES MINISTERED BY BONNER AGAINST JOHN HALLINGDALE.

    First , That the said John Hallingdale is of the diocese of London, and so subject to the jurisdiction of the bishop of London. 2. That the said John before the time of the reign of king Edward the sixth, late king of England, was of the same faith and religion that was then observed, believed, taught, and set forth in the realm of England. 3. That during the reign of the said king Edward the sixth, the said John Hallingdale, upon occasion of the preaching of certain ministers in that time, did not abide in his former faith and religion, but did depart from it, and so did and doth continue till this present day, and so determineth to do (as he saith) till his life's end. 4. That the said John Hallingdale hath thought, believed, and spoken, divers times, that the faith, religion, and ecclesiastical service received, observed, and used now in this realm of England, is not good and laudable, but against God's commandment and word, especially concerning the mass and the seven sacraments; and that he the said John will not in any wise conform himself to the same, but speak and think against it during his natural life. 5. a225 That the said John absenteth himself continually from his own parish church of St. Leonard, neither hearing matins, mass, nor evensong, nor yet confessing his sins to the priest, or receiving the sacrament of the altar at his hands, or using other ceremonies as they are now used in this church and realm of England and as he remembereth, he never came but once into the said parish-church of St.

    Leonard, and careth not (as he saith) if he never come there any more, the service being as it is there, and so many abuses being there, as he saith there are, especially the mass, the sacraments, and the ceremonies and service set forth in Latin. 6. That the said John, when his wife, called Alice, was brought in bed of a man-child, caused the said child to be christened in English, after the same manner and form, in all points, as it was used in the time of the reign of king Edward the sixth aforesaid, and caused it to be called Josue; and would not have the said child christened in Latin after the form and manner as it is now used in the church and realm of England, nor will have it by his will (as he saith) to be confirmed by the bishop.

    JOHN HALLINGDALE'S ANSWERS TO THE ARTICLES.

    Unto all which articles the said John Hallingdale made answer, confessing them all, and every part of them to be true, and saying, that he would not revoke his said answers, but stand unto them according as it was in every article above written.

    Furthermore, the said John Hallingdale, being demanded by the said Bonner, whether he did firmly believe that in the sacrament commonly called the sacrament of the altar, there is really and truly the very body and blood of our Savior Christ, or no; made answer, that he neither in the time of the said king Edward the sixth, nor at that present, did believe, that in the said sacrament there is really the very body and blood of Christ. For he said, that if he had so believed, he would (as others had done) have received the same; which he did not, because he had and then did believe, that the very body of Christ is only in heaven, and nowhere else.

    And furthermore the said John Hallingdale said, that Cranmer.

    Latimer, Ridley, Hooper, and generally all that of late have been burnt for heretics, were no heretics at all, because they did preach truly the gospel: upon whose preaching he grounded his faith and conscience, as he said, according to the saying of St. John, in the 18th chapter of his Revelation, where he saith, that the blood of the prophets, and of the saints, and of all that were slain upon earth, was found in the Babylonical church; by the which, he said, is understood the church where the pope is the head.

    After which examination, the said John was sent unto prison again. And the next day, being the 6th day of the said month, he was called before the bishop again, who persuading him with some wrested sentences of the scripture, the said John Hallingdale answered, “Because I will not,” saith he, “come to your Babylonical church, therefore,” speaking unto Bonner, “you go about to condemn me.” And being of Bonner further demanded, whether he would persevere and stand in his opinions or no; he made answer that he would continue and persist in them unto the death. Then Bonner read the bloody sentence of condemnation; at which time the said John affirmed openly, that (thanking God) he never came into the church since the abomination came into it. And so he was sent to prison again.

    Upon the same 6th day also, in the forenoon, was produced before the bishop the forenamed William Sparrow, and had laid unto him certain articles, which hereafter follow.

    ARTICLES MINISTERED BY BONNER UNTO WILLIAM SPARROW.

    First , That thou, William Sparrow, wast in times past detected and presented lawfully unto thy ordinary the bishop of London, called Edmund, who also is now thine ordinary of the said diocese, and thou wast presented and detected unto him for heresy, errors, and unlawful opinions, which thou didst believe, set forth and hold 2. That thou before the said ordinary didst openly and judicially confess the said heresies, errors, and unlawful opinions, as appeareth plainly in the acts of the court, had and made before the said ordinary. 3. That thou after the premises, didst make thy submission in writing, and didst exhibit and deliver the same as thy deed, to thy said ordinary; openly confessing and recognizing thy heresies, errors, unlawful opinions, and thine offences and transgressions in that behalf. 4. That thou, after the premises, didst promise unto thy said ordinary voluntarily and of thine own mind, that always after the said submission, thou wouldest in all points conform thyself unto the common order of the catholic church, observed and kept here in this realm of England, and in no wise full again to heresies, errors, or unlawful opinions. 5. That thou, since thy said submission, hast willingly fallen into certain heresies and errors, and hast holden and set forth divers unlawful opinions, to the right great hurt of thine own soul, and also to the great hinderance and loss of divers others; especially against the sacrament of the altar, against confession articular, with other the sacraments of the catholic church. 6. That thou, since the said commission, hast willingly gone about divers places within the diocese of London, and sold divers heretical, erroneous and blasphemous ballets about, and wast apprehended and taken with the said ballets about thee, and committed to prison.

    Unto all which articles the said William Sparrow answered in effect as hereafter followeth:

    To the first, second, third, and fourth articles he answered affirmatively, as thus: that he was presented and detected to Bonner, unto whom he made his submission, etc. as in the articles.

    To the fifth he answered, that if he had spoken against them, he had spoken but the truth; for they be naught (meaning the contents of the said article).

    To the sixth, he granted to the article, adding, that he did sell the like, and the said ballets then showed and read before him, and that the same did contain God's word.

    After which answers, the said William Sparrow was sent unto prison. And the same day in the afternoon, being produced before the bishop again, and there charged with his said submission, made the year before unto the bishop, he answered thus: “I am sorry,” said he, “that ever I made it, and it was the worst deed that ever I did:” adding further unto them, “Hold up your abomination so long as you can'“ Also being laid unto him, and charged by the bishop that he went to church, and there was confessed and heard mass, the said William Sparrow made answer and confessed, that he did so, “but with a troubled conscience,” he said, “God knoweth.” And speaking further to the bishop, he said, “That which you call truth, I do believe,” said he, “to be heresy.” And also the bishop charging him again with the contents of the fifth article above named, he answered that he had so done, as is contained in the same article, and so will do again, if he were at liberty. And being further demanded of Bonner, whether he would persist and continue in the same or no; he made answer, that he would not go from his opinions. And adding thereunto, he said, “That which you call heresy” (speaking to the bishop), “is good and godly; and if every hair of my head were a man,” said he, “I would burn them all, rather than to go from the truth.”

    Then being demanded what ground of learning he had to cleave to his opinions, he made answer and said, that all the laws now used (meaning the ecclesiastical laws) are naught and abominable. And further thereunto he said, that the mass is naught and abominable, etc.: which words being spoken, the bishop immediately read the sentence of condemnation upon him; and so delivered him to the secular power, by whom he was sent to prison again.

    RICHARD GIBSON MARTYR.

    With the other two above named, suffered also in the same fire Richard Gibson, who first was east into the Compter in the Poultry (where he had been prisoner by the space of two years for suretyship in a matter of debt, and then stood upon his deliverance), then upon suspicion and evil will was accused to Bonner, for that in the prison he was never confessed, nor received at the popish altar: by reason whereof he was called for, and sustained divers and sundry conflicts and examinations in the cause of his faith and religion. But first he seemed to make a certain submission, f386 which also he exhibited with the other twenty-eight above-mentioned: but because it seemed something to differ in words from the other, it appeareth not to be received; or whether it was received or no, it is not fully certain.

    This is certain, that although his submission was in the bishop's register recorded, yet he was not delivered out from imprisonment till the day of his burning. The articles first objected and ministered unto him by the bishop, were these: — ARTICLES OBJECTED AND MINISTERED TO RICHARD GIBSON BY BONNER, BISHOP OF LONDON. f387 First, That the said Richard Gibson, prisoner in the Compter in the Poultry, in the diocese of London, hath otherwise than became a faithful christian man, and a good subject of this realm of England, behaved himself in words and deeds, in divers conditions and points, contrary to the order, religion, and faith of Christ's catholic church, and contrary to the order of this realm, to the pernicious and evil example of the inhabitants of the city of London, and the prisoners of the prison of the said Compter in the Poultry, and greatly to the hurt and damage of his own soul, offending especially in the articles following: by reason whereof the said Richard Gibson was and is of the jurisdiction of the said bishop of London, and subject to the said jurisdiction, to make answer to his offences and transgressions underwritten, according to the order of the law. 2. That the said Richard Gibson hath unreverently spoken against the pope, and see, and church of Rome, and likewise against the whole church of this realm of England, and against the seven sacraments of the catholic and whole church of Christendom, and against the articles of the christian faith here observed in this realm of England, and against the commendable and laudable ceremonies of the catholic church. 3. That the said Richard Gibson hath commended, allowed, defended, and liked, both Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, and also all other heretics here in this realm of England, according to the ecclesiastical laws condemned for heretics; and also liked all their heretical and erroneous, damnable, and wicked opinions, especially against the sacrament of the altar, and the authority of the pope and see of Rome, with the whole religion thereof. 4. That the said Richard Gibson hath comforted, aided, assisted, and maintained, both by words and otherwise, heretics and erroneous persons, or at the least suspected and infamed of heresies and errors condemned by the catholic church, to continue in their heretical and erroneous opinions aforesaid, favoring and counseling the same unto his power. 5. That the said Gibson hath affirmed and said, that the religion and faith commonly observed, kept. and used now here, in this realm of England, is not good and laudable, nor in any wise agreeable unto God's word and commandment. 6. That the said Gibson hath affirmed, that the English service, and the books commonly called the Books of Communion, or Common Prayer, here set forth in this realm of England in the time of king Edward the sixth, were in all parts and points good and godly; and that the same only, and no other, ought to be observed and kept in this realm of England. 7. That the said Gibson hath affirmed, that if he may once be out of prison and at liberty, he will not come to any parish church, or ecclesiastical place, to hear matins, mass, evensong, or any divine service now used in this realm of England, nor come to procession upon times and days accustomed, nor bear at any time any taper or candle, nor receive at any time ashes, nor bear at any time palm., nor receive pax at mass-time, nor receive holy water, nor holy bread, rim observe the ceremonies or usages of the catholic church, here observed or kept commonly in this realm of England. 8. That the said Gibson hath affirmed, that he is not bound at any time, though he have liberty, and the presence of a priest convenient and meet, to confess his sins to the said priest, nor to receive the absolution of his sins at his hands, nor to receive of him the sacrament, commonly called the sacrament of the altar, after such form as is now used within this realm of England. 9. That the said Gibson hath affirmed, that prayer unto saints, or prayers for the dead, are not laudable, available, or profitable; and that no man is bound at any time or in any place to fast or pray, but only at his own will and pleasure; and that it is not lawful to reserve or keep the said sacrament of the altar, nor in any wise to adore and worship it. *As these aforesaid articles were ministered unto him, the 8th day of May, .so was there another article objected against him by the said Bonner, the 6th day of November the same year; the tenor whereof here followeth.

    That thou, being both notably suspected of heresy, errors, and evil opinions, and also (by the common report and fame amongst the worshipful, grave, and honest persons of this city of London in a notable number), culpable and faulty, hast not lawfully purged and cleared thyself from the said suspicion; but rather, day by day continually, by thy acts and deeds, hast augmented and increased the said suspicion, refusing to be confessed to the priest, refusing to receive the sacrament of the altar at the priest's hands, refusing to hear mass when thou hadst opportunity, and wast thereunto required by thy ordinary, the bishop of London, in whose diocese thou wast then abiding — refusing also to give an oath on a book, and to make answer to such articles, as, by the said ordinary, were lawfully and duly objected against thee, concerning the said heresies, errors, and ill opinions — and as, by thy said ordinary, thou wast upon just and reasonable causes commanded and required, and on thy behalf, without just or reasonable cause, contemptuously and willfully refused: thereby, in law, bringing thyself to be taken and reputed, in those articles and matters, for a person confessing the same.

    Concerning his answers unto the said articles, because he did not swear to answer to their interrogatories, therefore, without further answer-making, Bonner declared him “pro confesso.”* The greatest matter which he was charged withal, was for not coming to confession, being thereunto required, for not receiving' of the sacraments of the popish making, and for that he would not swear to answer unto their interrogatories laid against him.

    Notwithstanding, after these his first examinations, he continued in the foresaid prison of the Compter a good space, from the month of May unto November, at what time he was again produced unto the final examination judiciary. Where is to be noted, that master Gibson, being a very big and tall man, of a personable and heroical stature, was sent for of Bonner by a little and short person, a promoter, like Robin Papist, called Robin Caley, if it were not he himself.

    This Robin Caley, having the conducting of the said gentleman from the Poultry, would needs hale him through Cheapside, the gentleman desiring him to turn some other way. But the more the gentleman entreated, the more fierce was this silly Jack upon him; and drawing and holding him by the arm, would needs hale him through the High-street, that all the world might see what he could do in his office. Master Gibson, desirous to be led without holding, willed and entreated him to let his arm loose: he would go quietly of his own accord with him whither he would, only craving that he might go by him freely, without noting of the people.

    The saucy and impotent miser the promoter, hearing this, who was scarce able to reach to his shoulders, “Nay,” saith he, “thou shalt not escape me so, come on thy ways: thou shalt not choose but come!” And so, reaching at his arm, would needs drag him unto the bishop. The gentleman content to go, yet loth to be notified in the streets, gently requested again and again, that, refraining his hold, he would suffer him to go of his own free and voluntary will; he should not need to fear him, for he would not start from him. To whom the caitiff, looking up to his face, “Come on thy way,” saith he, “I will hold thee fast, spite of thy beard, and whether thou wilt or no.”

    Master Gibson, seeing and beholding the intolerable bragging of the wretched miser, and moved therewith not a little, could bear no longer, but said, “Wilt thou?” said he; and added moreover , a227 bitterly looking down towards him, that if he did not incontinently pluck away his hand (and so staid withal), he would immediately wring his neck from his body.

    Whereupon Robin Papist the promoter was fain to pluck away his hold, and so proceeded they unto the bishop, there to be examined again before him. *I should have declared before, how Bonner, as his manner was commonly with divers, had received and procured against him for witnesses, William Wood, John Babington, Thomas Hawes, Thomas Cornish, Richard Lawkenor, Nicholas Grove, and Owen Claydon: to whom interrogatories were also ministered to depose upon against the said Gibson. The tenor of the interrogatories were these.

    INTERROGATORIES MINISTERED UNTO THE WITNESSES PRODUCTED AGAINST MASTER GIBSON. 1. Whether ye know of certain, or else credibly are informed and believe, that Richard Gibson, now prisoner in the Compter in the Poultry, within the city and diocese of London, hath ever, at all and sundry times and places, in prison or otherwhere, behaved himself in words, behavior, and deeds, in all conditions and points, as all the catholic and true subjects of this realm ought to do, and to behave themselves therein according to their duty. 2. Whether ye so know, or so are informed and believe, that the said Richard Gibson hath, during all the time of his said imprisonment, reverently spoken of the pope, and of the see and church of Rome, and likewise of the whole church of this realm of England, and of the seven sacraments of the catholic church, and other points of the catholic religion. 3. Whether ye have heard the said Richard Gibson, at any time during his said imprisonment, speak against the said pope and his authority, and against the church of Rome and the faith thereof, or against this church of England and the faith and service thereof, or against any of the said seven sacraments of the' said catholic church, or against the common order of the ecclesiastical church, or any of the ceremonies thereof. 4. Whether ye have heard the said Richard Gibson, at any time induring his said imprisonment, allow, commend, defend, and like, any the articles that Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, etc., or any other, were condemned for as heretics, by the ecclesiastical authority and laws of this realm of England. 5. Whether ye have heard this said Richard Gibson, at any the said times, to comfort, aid, and assist, by words or otherwise, any heretic, or any erroneous person, or suspect person of heresy, to continue or persist in any their heretical and erroneous opinions. 6. Whether have ye heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, in talk, utter and say that the religion and faith commonly observed and used here now, in this realm of England, is not good nor laudable, nor agreeable unto God's word and commandment; and that he will be contented in all points to conform himself, without any murmuring or grudging unto the same. 7. Whether ye have heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, affirm and say that the English service, and the books, commonly called the Books of Communion, set forth in this realm of England in the time of king Edward the sixth, were in all parts good and godly, and the same only to be observed and kept, and none other. 8. Whether ye have heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, affirm or say that he, being at liberty, is not bound to come to any his parish church, there to hear matins, mass, evensong, or any other divine service now used in this realm of England. 9. Whether ye have heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, affirm and say that he, being at liberty, is not bound to come unto procession upon days and times accustomed; nor to bear, at any time. any taper or candle, nor to receive at any time ashes, or to bear, at any time, Palm, or to receive or kiss the Pax at mass-time, or to receive holy bread or holy water, or to observe the ceremonies and usages of the church. 10. Whether have ye heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, say and affirm that he is not bound, at any time, to confess his sins unto any priest, and to receive absolution at the priest's hands; or to receive, at any time, at the priest's hands, the sacrament, commonly called the sacrament of the altar, after such form and manner as it is now used in this realm of England. 11. Whether ye have heard the said Gibson at any time, in prison or elsewhere, to affirm and say that prayers unto saints, or prayers for the dead, are not laudable nor profitable; and that a man is not bound, at any time, to fast or pray (but at his pleasure), at any time appointed by the church; and that it is not lawful to reserve the sacrament of the altar, nor to adore and worship it.

    The witnesses above named, being upon these interrogatories deposed, do attest and witness, some in his excuse, some contrary: of whom two of them, that is, John Babington his bedfellow, and Thomas Hawes, make answer and say; that they never knew nor saw, either in word or deed, by him, otherwise than well. The other, William Wood, Thomas Cornish, Richard Lawkenor, Owen Claydon, and Nicholas Grove, deposing against him, gave witness in this effect as followeth: namely, that the said Gibson, for two years before, was not confessed unto any priest, neither in that space did receive the sacrament of the altar, as they so term it.

    Whereunto master Gibson granting, and not denying the same, gave thanks unto God for that he had so done.

    Bonner, receiving these depositions of the witnesses above named, began to charge him with the same, objecting further and laying more matter unto his charge: that the said Gibson, being on a time in the bishop's house, and required by the said bishop to go unto his chapel with him to hear mass, refused so to do. To the which master Gibson answered again, that he had neither said or done any thing, therein whereof he was sorry, or which he would revoke; but that he would stand therein, and seal it with his blood.

    Among others who were at this examination, there was also there present John, bishop of Winchester, who, amongst other communication, had these words, saying, that it was no pity to burn a heretic. To whom Gibson replied again and said, he thought it not requisite nor lawful to burn them as heretics. And then the bishop of Winchester said, that he would not commune or talk any further with the same Gibson, because he perceived him to be a heretic, and thereby excommunicate. Then Gibson said, “Yea, my lord,” quoth he, “yours, and other bishops' cursings, be blessings unto me,” etc.* After this, another day being assigned him to appear again, much talk passed between him and Darbishire, then chancellor. But in fine, being required to swear that he should answer unto all they would demand, he denied to answer unto all things the bishop should command him as ordinary: “for he is not,” saith he, “mine ordinary;” and so bade him go tell the bishop. Before the which bishop he, being then commanded to appear the Friday next following, was brought unto the justice-hall without Newgate, where he had the like conflicts with the foresaid bishop and divers other justices. At length he was assigned the Saturday following, to be present in the bishop's consistory-court, to hear his final sentence; at which day and place, the said examinate appearing as he was commanded, the bishop, after other matter of communication, asked him if he knew any cause why the sentence should not be read against him. To whom the said master Gibson answered, that the bishop had nothing wherefore justly to condemn him. The bishop's reason was again objected to him, that men said he was an evil man. To whom Gibson replying again; “Yea,” saith he, “and so may I say of you also.” To be short, after this and such other talk, the bishop hasted unto the sentence; which being read, Gibson being yet again admonished to remember himself, and to save his soul, said that he would not hear the bishop's babbling; and said moreover (boldly protesting and affirming), that he was contrary and an enemy to them all, in his mind and opinion, although he had aforetime kept it secret in mind, for fear of the law. And speaking to the bishop, “Blessed,” said he, “am I, that am cursed at your hands. We have nothing now, but 'Thus will I:' for as the bishop saith, so must it be. And no heresy is to turn the truth of God's word into lies; and that do you,” meaning the bishop and his fellows.

    Thus this valiant soldier, fighting for the gospel and sincere doctrine of Christ's truth and religion against falsehood and error, was committed, with his fellows, to the secular power.

    And so these three godly men, John Hallingdale, William Sparrow, and master Gibson, being thus appointed to the slaughter, were, the 12th day after their condemnation (which was the 18th day of the said month of November), burnt in Smithfield in London. And being brought thither to the stake, after their prayer made, they were bound thereunto with chains, and wood set unto them; and, after wood, fire; in the which being compassed about, and the fiery flames consuming their flesh, at the last they yielded gloriously and joyfully their souls and lives into the holy hands of the Lord, to whose tuition and government I commend thee, good reader. Amen.

    It is a little above declared, in this story of Richard Gibson, how Bonner ministered unto the said Gibson certain articles, to the number of nine.

    Now let us see likewise the articles which the said Gibson ministered again to Bonner, according to the same number of nine, for him to answer unto, as by the same hereunder written may appear. * “When a man is in honor and hath no understanding, he is compared unto the brute beasts, and becometh like unto them.” (Psalm 49.) “Wherefore, O ye judges of the earth, be ye learned, and ye rulers serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice before him with reverence: (Psalm 2.) “embrace righteousness and judgment, accept not the persons of the ungodly, lest the Lord be angry, and so ye perish from the right way.” (Psalm 81.)

    ARTICLES PROPONED BY RICHARD GIBSON UNTO EDMUND BONNER BISHOP OF LONDON, BY HIM TO BE ANSWERED, BY YEA OR NAY; OR ELSE TO SAY HE CANNOT TELL. 1. Whether the Scriptures of God, written by Moses and other holy prophets of God, through faith that is in Christ Jesus, be available doctrine, to make all men in all things unto salvation learned, without the help of any other doctrine, or no? 2. What: is authority, and from whence it cometh, and to whom it appertaineth, and to what end it tendeth? 3. Whether the holy word of God, as it is written, doth sufficiently teach all men, of what dignity, estate, or calling by office soever he or they be, their full, true, and lawful duty in their office: and whether every man, of what dignity, estate, or calling by office soever he or they be, are bound upon the pain of eternal damnation, in all things to do as they are hereby taught and commanded, and in no wise to leave undone any thing that is to be done, being taught and commanded by the same? 4. Whether any man, the Lord Jesus Christ (God and man) only except, by the holy ordinance of God ever was, is, or shall be, lord over faith? and by what lawful authority any man, of what dignity, estate, or calling by office soever he or they be, may use lordship or power over any man for faith's sake, or for the secrety of his conscience ? a228 5. By what lawful authority or power any man, of what dignity, estate, or calling soever he or they be, may be so bold as to alter or change the holy ordinances of God, or any of them, or any part of them? 6. By what evident tokens antichrist in his ministers may be known; seeing it is written, that Satan can change himself into the similitude of an angel of light, and his ministers fashion themselves as though they were the ministers of righteousness? And how it may be known to him that is desirous thereof, when he is one of that number, or in the danger thereof, or when he is otherwise? 7. What the beast is, the which maketh war with the saints of God, and doth not only kill them, but also will suffer none to buy or sell, but such as worship his image, or receive his mark in their right hands, or in their foreheads, his name, or the number of his name, or do worship his image, which, by the just: and terrible sentence of God already decreed, shall be punished in fire and brimstone, before the holy angels, and before the Lamb; and they shall have no rest day nor night, but the smoke of their torment shall ascend up for evermore? Also what the gorgeous and glittering whore is, the which sitteth, upon the beast with a cup of gold in her hand full of abominations; with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and the inhabitors of the earth; and she herself also is drunken with the blood of the saints, which is the wine of her fornication; whose flesh the horns of the beast shall tear in pieces, and burn her with fire: for God hath put in their hearts to do his will? 8. Whether a king over all those people which are born and inhabit within his own dominions, regions, and countries, or any part of them, of what dignity, estate, or calling by office soever they be, here upon this earth immediately, under Christ, by the holy ordinance of God, is lawful, supreme, and chief governor, or no? And whether a king over all those people within his dominions, regions, and countries, and every part of them, by holy ordinance of God, lawfully may, and ought not otherwise to do, nor suffer otherwise to be done, than in his own name, power, and authority (the name of God only except), as lawful, supreme, and chief head in all things that belong to rule, without exception, to govern and rule? And whether all those people, of what dignity, estate, or calling soever they be, are bound by the holy ordinance of God, to owe their whole obedience and service in all things without exception (their duty to God only excepted) to their king only, as to the supreme and chief governor upon earth immediately under Christ? And whether a king, without offense against God and his people, may give away, and not himself use that his authority and power given him of God; or lawfully may, without offense to God and his people (after knowledge thereof had), suffer himself by fraud or guile, or by any other unlawful mean, to be beguiled, defrauded, and spoiled thereof? And whether any subject, of what dignity, estate, or calling soever he or they be, without offense to God and to his king, to the minishing or derogation of the supreme prerogative-royal of his king, or of any part thereof, may do ought? or, after knowledge thereof had, without offense to God and to his king, may conceal the same? 9. Whether the holy written law of God be given of God unto all men, of what dignity, estate, or calling by office soever they be, as well thereby to govern all their dominions, regions, and countries, and their people therein inhabiting, as themselves: and whether any law or laws (the holy law of God only excepted) not being made within any dominion, region, or country where it or they be used, may be lawfully used before it or they be, as the lawful law or laws of the same dominion, region, or country, by public and common order of the same dominion, region, or country, lawfully allowed: and whether any subject, without offense against God and his king, within the dominion of his king, may lawfully use any such law or laws not so allowed?

    EMANUEL. “Ascribe unto the Lord, O ye mighty, ascribe unto the Lord, worship and strength: give unto the honor of his name, and bow yourselves to the majesty of the Lord.” (Psalm 29.) *What manner a Man a Bishop ought to be, and the Duty of him in his Office; as the Holy Scriptures of God most truly do teach.

    A bishop, as the steward of God, “must be blameless, the husband of one wife, and one that ruleth well his own house, and that hath faithful children in subjection with all reverence; and one that is diligent, prudent, sober, discreet, righteous, godly, temperate, a keeper of hospitality, not stubborn, not angry, not given to overmuch wine, no fighter, not greedy of filthy lucre; but one that loveth goodness, abhorring fighting, abhorring covetousness.” (1 Timothy 3.) He may not be a young scholar, but such a one as “is apt to teach,” (1 Timothy 3.) and that cleaveth to the true word of doctrine, that he may be able to exhort by wholesome learning, and to “improve them a229 that say against it. He must have a good report of them that are without.” (1 Timothy 3.) He may not be a “lord over the faithful” (2 Corinthians 1, 1 Peter 5.) of them that are committed unto his charge, neither may he use any “lordship over them” for the same, but must become as one of them, that, through his humbleness, he may win the more to well doing.

    Neither may he be so bold as to speak any other thing, to “make any man obedient to the same,” (Romans 15.) than he himself hath learned of Christ. Neither may he do or teach any thing “to tangle or to snare any man withal.” (2 Corinthians 7.) He may not “walk in craftiness, neither use the cloak of unhonesty, neither handle the word of God deceitfully,” (2 Corinthians 4.) neither chop nor change with the same; but, in the singleness thereof, so open the truth, to the advancement of the truth thereby, as that he may “report himself to every man's conscience in the sight of God.” (2 Corinthians 4.) He may not reject the weak -in faith, in disputing and troubling their conscience, but must bear their frailty, and, in the spirit of meekness, must be ready to help him that is overtaken with any fault; and not to stand in his own conceit, lest he himself also be tempted. (Romans 14,15; Galatians 6.)

    He not only lawfully may, but also ought, by the virtue of his office to preach the word; sincerely to minister, so as no man may be able to reprove him; and to expel, put out, or excommunicate from among the remnants of his charge, all open willful malefactors, who will not by any other means be reformed; and yet to fare fair with all men, and not to be rigorous: because his office is given him to edify, not to destroy. (1 Corinthians 9, 1 Timothy 3, Corinthians 5, 2 Thessalonians 3, 2 Corinthians 5,10, and 13.) And he not only lawfully may, but also ought, by the virtue of his office, of virtuous able men, well known, and of “honest report,” (Acts 6.) within his charge, to appoint sufficient number to help him in the discharge thereof. And he, in no case, by violence, may compel any man to be of his church and fellowship, or to be partaker of any thing that is done therein. (John 4, Galatians 1, Timothy 4) And for his due administration, as one worthy of double honor, he may not only receive of his charge what is necessary, but also ought of them, as of duty, without requests (if need require), to be provided of the same. (2 Thessalonians 3, Timothy 5, Romans 15.)

    If the bishop of London be such a manner of man as yet do teach, and hath done, and daily doth, his duty therein as he is taught by the same (as of duty he ought to do), then doubtless as he is a meet and worthy man for his office: so am I worthy of the punishment I have — yea, if it were more. But, if it be otherwise (as wherein, for the tender mercy of Christ Jesu, I most humbly require righteous judgment), then, as I have unworthily sustained long punishment, so is he not only most unworthy of his office, but also hath most worthily deserved to be recompensed blood for blood, as equity requireth.* “I will hearken what the Lord God will say: for he shall speak peace unto his people, that they turn not themselves unto foolishness.” (Psalm 85.)

    This 6th of April, 1557.

    By me, Richard Gibson .

    THE DEATH AND MARTYRDOM OF JOHN ROUGH, MINISTER, AND MARGARET MEARING, BURNT AT LONDON THE 22D OF DECEMBER.

    In this Curious time of persecution, were also burned these two constant and faithful martyrs of Christ, John Rough a minister, and Margaret Mearing.

    This Rough was born in Scotland, who (as himself confesseth in his answers to Bonner's articles), because some of his kinsfolk would have kept him from his right of inheritance which he had to certain lands, did at the age of seventeen years, in despite (and the rather to displease his friends), profess himself into the order of the Black Friars at Stirling in Scotland; where he remained the space of sixteen years, until such time as the lord Hamilton, earl of Arran, and governor of the realm of Scotland aforesaid (casting a favor unto him), did sue unto the archbishop of St.

    Andrews, to have him *dereigned* a230 out of his professed order, that as a secular priest he might serve him for his chaplain. At which request the archbishop caused the provincial of that house, having thereto authority, to dispense with him for his habit and order.

    This suit being thus by the earl obtained, the said Rough remained in his service one whole year, during which time it pleased God to open his eyes, and to give him some knowledge of his truth; and thereupon was by the said governor sent to preach in the freedom of Ayr, where he continued four years; and then, after the death of the cardinal of Scotland, he was appointed to abide at St. Andrews, and there had assigned unto him a yearly pension of twenty pounds from king Henry the eighth, king of England. Howbeit, at last, weighing with himself his own danger, and also abhorring the idolatry and superstition of his country, and hearing of the freedom of the gospel within this realm of England, he determined with himself not to tarry any longer there; and therefore, soon after the battle of Musselborough, he came first unto Carlisle, and from thence unto the duke of Somerset, then lord protector of England; and by his assignment had appointed unto him out of the king's treasury twenty pounds of yearly stipend, and was sent as a preacher, to serve at Carlisle, Berwick, and Newcastle; from whence (after he had there, according to the laws of God and also of this realm, taken a countrywoman of his to wife), he was called by the archbishop of York that then was, unto a benefice nigh, in the town of Hull, where he continued until the death of that blessed and good king Edward the sixth.

    But in the beginning of the reign of queen Mary (perceiving the alteration of religion, and the persecution that would thereupon arise, and feeling his own weakness), he fled with his wife into Friesland, and dwelt there at a place called Norden, laboring truly for his living, knitting of caps, hose, and such like things, till about the end of the month of October last before his death. At which time, lacking yarn, and other such necessary provision for the maintenance of his occupation, he came over again into England, here to provide for the same, and the 10th day of November arrived at London; where, hearing of the secret society, and holy congregation of God's children there assembled, he joined himself unto them; and afterwards, being elected their minister and preacher, did continue most virtuously exercised in that godly fellowship, teaching and confirming them in the truth of the gospel of Christ. But in the end (such was the providence of God, who disposeth all things to the best), the 12th day of December, he, with Cutbert Symson and others, through the crafty and traitorous suggestion of a false hypocrite and dissembling brother, called Roger Sergeant a tailor, was apprehended by the vice-chamberlain of the queen's house, at the Saracen's Head in Islington; where the congregation had then purposed to assemble themselves to their godly and accustomable exercises of prayer, and hearing the word of God: which pretense, for the safeguard of all the rest, they yet at their examinations covered and excused by hearing of a play, that was then appointed to be at that place. the vicechamberlain, after he had apprehended them, carried Rough and Symson unto the council, who charged them to have assembled together to celebrate the communion or supper of the Lord: and therefore, after sundry examinations and answers, they sent the said Rough unto Newgate; but his examinations they sent unto the bishop of London, with a letter signed with their hands, the copy whereof followeth.

    A LETTER SENT FROM THE QUEEN'S COUNCIL UNTO BONNER BISHOP OF- LONDON, TOUCHING THE EXAMINATION OF JOHN ROUGH, MINISTER.

    After our hearty commendations to your good lordship, we send you here ' enclosed, the examination of a Scottish man named John Rough, who, by the queen's majesty's commandment, is presently sent to Newgate; being of the chief of them that upon Sunday last, under the color of coming to see a play at the Saracen's Head in Islington, had prepared a communion to be celebrated and received there, among certain other seditious and heretical persons. And forasmuch as by the said Rough's examination, containing the story and progress of his former life, it well appeareth of what sort he is; the queen's highness hath willed us to remit him unto your lordship, to the end that being called before you out of prison, as oft as ,/our lordship shall think good, ye may proceed, both to his further examination, and otherwise ordering of him according to the laws, as the case shall require. And thus we bid your lordship heartily well to fare. — From St. James, the 15th day of December, 1557. Your lordship's loving friends, Nicholas Ebor.

    Anthony Montague, F. Shrewsbury, John Bourne, Edward Hastings, Henry Jernegam .

    Bonner, now minding to make quick despatch, did within three days after the receipt of the letter (the 18th day of December), send for this Rough out of Newgate, and in his palace at London ministered unto him *22 a231 * articles: many whereof, because they contain only questions of the profession and religion of that age, wherein both he and his parents were christened (which in sundry places are already mentioned), I do here for brevity omit; minding to touch such only, as pertain to matters of faith now in controversy, and then chiefly objected against the martyrs and saints of God, which in effect are these.

    ARTICLES AGAINST JOHN ROUGH.

    First , That thou, John Rough, didst directly speak against the seven sacra-merits, used. commonly and reverently, as things of estimation and great worthiness, in the catholic church: and also didst reprove and condemn the substance of the said sacraments, but especially the sacrament of the altar, affirming that in that same is not really and truly the very body and blood of Christ: and that confession to the priest, and absolution given by him (as the minister of Christ) for sins, is not necessary or available in any wise. 2. Item, Thou hast misliked and reproved the religion and ecclesiastical service, as it is now used in this realm, and hast allowed the religion and service used. in the latter years of king Edward the sixth; and, so much as in thee hath lain, hast by word, writing, and deed, set forwards, taught, and preached the same openly; and in sundry places affirmed, that the said English service and doctrine therein contained, is agreeable in all points to God's word, and unto the truth; condemning utterly the Latin service now used in the queen's reign, and inducing others by thine example to do the like. 3. Item, Thou hast, in sundry places within this realm, commended and approved the opinion and doctrine of Thomas Cranmer, late archbishop of Canterbury, Nicholas Ridley, and Hugh Latimer, concerning the sacrament of the altar; affirming that in the sacrament there remaineth, after the words of consecration, material bread and material wine, without any transubstantiation. 4. Item, Thou hast in sundry places of this realm, since the queen's reign, ministered and received the communion as it was used in the late days. of king Edward the sixth; and thou knowest, or credibly hast heard of divers, that yet do keep hooks of the said communion, and use the same in private houses out of the church, and are of opinion against the sacrament of the altar. 5. Item, That thou, in sundry places of this realm, hast spoken against the pope of Rome, and his apostolic see, and hast plainly contemned and despised the authority of the same, misliking and not allowing tire faith and doctrine thereof, but directly speaking against it; and by thine example hast induced other the subjects of this realm, to speak and do the like. 6. Item, Thou dost know, and hast been conversant with all or a great part of such Englishmen as have fled out of this realm for religion, and hast consented and agreed with them in their opinions, and hast succored, maintained, and holpen them, and hast been a conveyer of their seditious letters and books into this realm. 7. Item, That thou hast said, that thou hast been at Rome, and tarried there about thirty days or more, and that thou hast seen little good or none there, but very much evil. Amongst the which thou sawest one great abomination, that is to say, a man [or the pope] that should go on the ground, to be carried upon the shoulders of four men, as though he had been God, and no man: also a cardinal to have his harlot riding openly behind him: and thirdly, a pope's bull, that gave express license to have and use the stews, and to keep open bawdry by the pope's approbation and authority. f393 8. Item, That thou, since thy last coming into England out of the parts beyond the sea, hast perniciously allured, and comforted divers of the subjects of this realm, both young men, old men and women, to have and use the Book of Communion, set forth in this realm in the latter days of king Edward the sixth; and hast also thyself read and set forth the same, causing others to do the like, and to leave their coming to the parish churches to hear the Latin service now used. 9. Item, That thou, on the third Sunday of Advent, the 12th day of this December 1557, wast apprehended at the Saracen's Head at Islington, in the county of Middlesex and diocese of London, by the queen's vice-chamberlain, with one Cutbert a tailor, Hugh Foxe a hosier, and divers others there assembled, under the color of hearing a play, to have read the Communion Book, and to have used the accustomed fashion, as was in the latter days of king Edward the sixth.

    THE ANSWER OF JOHN ROUGH, TO THE FORESAID ARTICLES.

    To the first, he said and confessed that he had spoken against the number of the said sacraments, being fully persuaded that there be but only two sacraments, to wit, baptism, and the supper of the Lord; and as for the other five, he denied them to be sacraments, and therefore hath spoken against them. And as concerning the sacrament of the altar (which he then called the supper of the Lord), he confessed that he had spoken and taught, that in the said sacrament there is not really and substantially the very body and blood of Christ, but that the substance of bread and wine doth remain in the said sacrament, without any transubstantiation at all.

    Further, as touching confession of sins to the priest, he answered that he thought it necessary, if the offense were done unto the priest; but, if the offense were done to another, then confession made to the priest is not necessary, but reconciliation only to be made to the party so offended.

    To the second, he answered that he then did and had before misliked the order of Latin service then used; and also did allow the service used in the latter time of king Edward's reign, for that the holy Scripture doth the same; and therefore he granted that he did teach and set forth the said English service, as in the same article is objected.

    To the third, he granted that he had approved the doctrine of the parties articulate as agreeable to God's word; and that they were godly learned men, and such as had perfect understanding in the contents of the same article.

    To the fourth, he answered that he did well like the communion used in king Edward's days; but he said that he had not ministered or received the same here in England since the queen's reign, neither yet knew any that had the books thereof. But, on the other side, he knew many that had those books, and that there also he had received the communion in sundry places.

    The contents of the fifth he granted to be true.

    To the sixth, he confessed that he had been familiar with divers English men and women, being in Friesland, and agreed with them in opinion, as master Scory, Thomas Young, George Roe, and others, to the number of one hundred persons, which fled thither for religion, using there the order set forth in the reign of king Edward; and otherwise he denieth the contents of this article. The contents of the seventh he granted in every point to be true.

    To the eighth, he answered and confessed that since his last coming into England (which was about the 10th day of November), he had, in sundry places in the suburbs of London, prayed and read such prayers and service as are appointed in the Book of the Communion; and willed others to do the like, both men and women, which he did know by sight, but not by name. Howbeit he did never cause any to withdraw themselves from the Latin service; but he said, it were better to pray in a tongue that they did understand, than in an unknown tongue.

    To the ninth, he confessed at the time and place articulate he was present to hear and see a play, and there was apprehended by the queen's majesty's vice chamberlain, with one Cutbert a tailor, and one Hugh a hosier, and divers others both men and women, whose names he knew not; and by him was brought before the ,council, who sent him unto Newgate; and from thence he was brought to the bishop. And otherwise he denieth the contents of this article.

    Upon these answers he was dismissed, and the next day, 'being the 19th of December, he was again brought before the said bishop and others; who, when they perceived his constantness, determined the next day after to bring him openly into the consistory, there to adjudge and condemn him as a heretic. Which purpose \hey accomplished, for, the 20th day at afternoon, in the presence of the bishops of London and St. David's, with Fecknam abbot of Westminster, and others,, he was there produced; where, after much and many fair persuasions, Bonner read unto him the articles and answers before mentioned, in the which they charged him to have received the orders of the church, and therefore might not marry; and that he had refused to consent unto the Latin service then used in the church. Whereunto he then answered, and said that their orders were nothing at all, and that he, being a priest, might lawfully marry, and that his children which he had by his wife, were lawful. And as touching the service then used, he utterly detested it, saying that if he should live as long as Methuselah, yet he would never come to the church to hear the abominable mass, and other service, being as it was then. Upon which words the bishop proceeded to the actual degradation of the said Rough, exempting him from all the benefits and privileges of their church; and after condemning him as a heretic, committed, his body to the secular power, who, taking him into their charge and custody, carried him unto Newgate.

    Moreover, as touching the said master Rough, this is further to be noted, that he, being in the north country in the days of king Edward the sixth, was the mean to save Dr. Watson's life (who in queen Mary's time was bishop of Lincoln), for a sermon that he had made there. The said Watson after that, in the said days of queen Mary, being with Bonner at the examination of the said master Rough, to requite the good turn in saving his life, detected him there to be a pernicious heretic, who did more hurt in the north parts than a hundred besides of his opinion. Unto whom master Rough said again, “Why sir, is this the reward I have for saving your life, when you preached erroneous doctrine in the days of king Edward the sixth?” This master Rough said, he had lived thirty years, and yet had never bowed his knee to Baal. And being before Bonner, among other talk, he affirmed that he had been twice at Rome, and there had seen plainly with his eyes, which he had many times heard of before, namely, that the pope was the very antichrist; for there he saw him carried on men's shoulders, and the false-named sacrament borne before him: yet was there more reverence given to him, than to that which they counted to be their god. When Bonner heard this, rising up, and making as though he would have torn. his garments, “Hast thou,” said he, “been at Rome, and seen our holy father the pope, and dost thou blaspheme him after this sort?” And with that flying upon him, he plucked off a piece of his beard; and after, making speedy haste to his death, he burnt him half an hour before six of the clock in the morning, because the day, belike, should not be far spent, before he had done a mischievous deed.

    Furthermore note, that this master Rough, being at the burning of Austoo in Smithfield, and returning homeward again, met with one master Farrar, a merchant of Halifax, who asked him, where he had been. Unto whom he answered, “I have been,” saith he, “where I would not for one or' mine eyes but I had been.” “Where have you been?” said master Farrar. “Forsooth,” said he, “to learn the way.” And so he told him he had been at the burning of Austoo, where shortly after he was burnt himself. *From Newgate he wrote immediately a letter unto his godly friends yet abroad and out of the danger of the unmerciful persecutors, confirming and strengthening them in the truth which he had taught them; the copy of which letter here followeth.* A LETTER, WRITTEN BY JOHN ROUGH UNTO CERTAIN OF HIS GODLY FRIENDS, CONFIRMING AND STRENGTHENING THEM IN THE TRUTH, WHICH HE HAD BEFORE TAUGHT.

    The comfort of the Holy Ghost make you able to give consolation to others in these dangerous days, when Satan is let loose, but to the trial only of the chosen, when it pleaseth our God to sift his wheat from the chaff. I have not leisure and time to write the great temptations I have been under. I speak to God's glory; my care was to have the senses of my soul open, to perceive the voice of God, saying, Whosoever denieth me before men, him will I deny before my Father and his angels. And to save the life corporal, is to lose the life eternal. And he that will not suffer with Christ, shall not reign with him. Therefore, most tender ones, I have by God's Spirit given over the flesh, with the fight of my soul, and the Spirit hath the victory. The flesh shall now, ere it be long, leave off to sin; the Spirit shall reign eternally. I have chosen the death, to confirm the truth by me taught. What can I do more? Consider with yourselves, that I have done it for the confirmation of God's truth. Pray that I may continue unto the end. The greatest part of the assault is past, I praise my God. I have in all my assaults felt the present aid of my God, I give him most hearty thanks there-for. Look not back, nor be ye ashamed of Christ's gospel, nor of the bonds I have suffered for the same; thereby ye may be assured it is the true word of God. The holy ones have been sealed with the same mark.

    It is no time, for the loss of one man in the battle, for the camp to turn back. Up with men's hearts; blow down the daubed walls of heresies. Let one take the banner, another the trumpet (I mean not to make corporal resistance, but pray) and ye shall have Elias's defense, and Elizeus's company to fight for you. The cause is the Lord's. Now my brethren, I can write no more; time will not suffer, and my heart with pangs of death is assaulted: but I am at home with my God yet alive. Pray for me, and salute one another with the holy kiss. The peace of God rest with you all, Amen. — From Newgate prison in haste, the day of my condemnation. John Rough.

    ANOTHER LETTER OF JOHN ROUGH, WRITTEN UNTO THE CONGREGATION TWO DAYS BEFORE HE SUFFERED.

    The Spirit of all Consolation be with you, aid you, and make you strong to run to the fight that is laid before you, wherewithal God in all ages hath tried his elect, and hath found them worthy of himself, by coupling to their head, Jesus Christ, in whom, whoso desireth to live godly, the same must needs suffer persecution: for it is given unto them, not only to believe, but also to suffer. And the servant or scholar cannot be greater than his Lord or Master; but by the same way the head is entered, the members must follow.

    No life is in the members which are cut from the body: likewise we have no life, but in Christ; for by him we live, move, and have our being. My dear sons, now departing this life to my great advantage, I make change of mortality with immortality, of corruption to put on incorruption, to make my body like to the corn cast into the ground, which except it die first, it can bring forth no good fruit.

    Wherefore death is to my great advantage; for thereby the body ceaseth from sin, and, after, turneth into the first original; but after shall be changed, and made brighter than the sun or moon. What shall I write of this corporal death, seeing it is decreed of God, that all men shall once die? Happy are they that die in the Lord, which is to die in the faith of Christ, professing and confessing the same before many witnesses. I praise my God I have passed the same journey by many temptations. The devil is very busy to persuade, the world to entice, with promises and fair words; which I omit to write, lest some might think I did hunt after vain glory, which is furthest from my heart. Lastly, the danger of some false brethren, who before the bishop of London purposed to confess an untruth to my face; yet the God that ruled Balsam, moved their hearts: where they thought to speak to my accusation, he made them speak to my purgation. What a journey (by God's power) I have made these eight days before this day, it is above flesh and blood to bear; but, as Paul saith, I may do all things in him which worketh in me, Jesus Christ. My course, brethren, have I run; I have fought a good fight; the crown of righteousness is laid up for me; my day to receive it is not long to. Pray, brethren, for the enemy doth yet assault. Stand constant unto the end; then shall you possess your souls. Walk worthily in that vocation wherein you are called.

    Comfort the brethren. Salute one another in my name. Be not ashamed of the gospel of the cross, by me preached, nor yet of my suffering; for with my blood I affirm the same. I go before; I suffer first the baiting of the butchers dogs; yet I have not done what I should have done: but my weakness, I doubt not, is supplied in the strength of Jesus Christ; and your wisdoms and learning will accept that small talent, which I have distributed unto you (as I trust) as a faithful steward: and what was undone, impute that to frailty and ignorance, and with your love cover that which is and was naked in me. God knoweth ye are all tender unto me; my heart bursteth for the love of you. Ye are not without your great Pastor of your soul, who so loveth you, that if men were not to be sought out (as God be praised, there is no want of men), he would cause stones to minister unto you. Cast your care on that Rock; the wind of temptation shall not prevail. Fast and pray, for the days are evil.

    Look up with your eyes of hope, for the redemption is not far off (but my wickedness hath deserved that I shall not see it). And also that which is behind of the blood of our brethren, which shall also be laid under the altar, shall cry for your relief. Time will not now suffer me ,to write longer letters. The Spirit of God guide you in and out, rising and sitting; cover you with the shadow of his wings; defend you against the tyranny of the wicked; and bring you happily unto the port of eternal felicity, where all tears shall be wiped from your eyes, and you shall always abide with the Lamb. John Rough.

    THE STORY OF MARGAARET MEARING, MARTYR.

    It is before declared that, in the company of John Rough, was burnt one Margaret Mearing, who, as the registrar maketh mention, was at one time and day brought with the said Rough forth to examination; where the bishop having no private matters to charge her withal, did the 18th day of December object against her those common and accustomable articles mentioned before: to which she answered as followeth.

    MARGARET MEARING'S ANSWERS TO THE ARTICLES.

    First , That there is here in earth a catholic church, and that there is the true faith of Christ observed and kept in the same church. 2. Item, That there were only two sacraments in the church, namely, the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, and the sacrament of baptism. 3. Item, That she was baptized in the faith and belief of the said church, renouncing there, by her godfathers and godmothers, the devil and all his works, etc. 4. Item, That when she came to the age of fourteen years, she did not know what her true belief was, because she was not then of discretion to understand the same, neither yet was taught it. 5. Item, That she had not gone from the catholic faith at any time; but she said, that the mass was abominable before the sight of God, and before the sight of all true christian people; and that it is the plain cup of fornication, and the whore of Baby]on. And as concerning the sacrament of the altar, she said, she believed there was no such sacrament in the catholic church. Also she said, that she utterly abhorred the authority of the bishop of Rome, with all the religion observed in the same antichrist's church. 6. Item, She answered to the sixth article, as to the first, before specified. 7. Item, That she hath refused to come to her parish church, because the true religion of Christ was not then used in the same: and further said, that she had not come unto the church by the space of one year and three quarters then last past, neither yet did mean any more to come unto the same, in these idolatrous days. 8. Item, As touching the manner of her apprehension, she said that Cluney, the bishop's sumner, did fetch her to the bishop.

    These answers being then registered, they were again (with the said articles) propounded against her the 20th day of December; and there being demanded if she would stand unto those her answers, she said, “I will stand to them unto the death; for the very angels of heaven do laugh you to scorn, to see your abomination that you use in the church.” After the which words, the bishop pronounced the sentence of condemnation against her; and then delivering her unto the sheriffs, she was, with the fore-named John Rough, carried unto Newgate; from whence they were both together led unto Smithfield, the 22d day of the same month of December, and there most joyfully gave their lives for the profession of Christ's gospel.

    When the latter end of this history of master Rough and Margaret Mearing was in finishing, there came to our hands one necessary thing of the said Margaret Mearing, which we thought not good to omit. The matter is this: master Rough being chief pastor to the congregation in the said time of queen Mary, as before you have heard (of which company this Margaret Mearing was one), did not well like the said Margaret, but ,greatly suspected her, as many others of them did besides, because she would oftentimes bring in strangers among them, and in her talk seemed (as they thought) somewhat too busy, etc. Now, what they saw or understood further in her, we know not, but this followed the evil suspicion conceived of her. Master Rough, the Friday before he was taken, in the open face of the congregation, did excommunicate her out of the same company; and so seemed with the rest to exclude and cut her off from their fellowship and society; whereat she being moved, did not well take it, nor in good part, but thought herself not indifferently handled among them: where upon, to one of her friends, in a heat, she threatened to remove them all. But the providence of God was otherwise; for the Sunday after, master Rough, being taken by the information of one Roger Sergeant to the bishop of London (as hereafter thou shalt hear), was laid prisoner in the Gate-house at Westminster, where none of his friends could come to visit him. Then this said Margaret, hearing thereof, got her a basket, and a clean shirt in it, and went to Westminster, where she, feigning herself to be his sister, got into the prison to him, and did there to her power not a little comfort him.

    Then coming abroad again, she understanding that the congregation suspected the said Sergeant to be his promoter, went to his house, and asked whether Judas dwelt not there: unto whom answer was made, there dwelt no such. “No!” said she; “dwelleth not Judas here, that betrayed Christ? his name is Sergeant.” When she saw she could not speak with him, she went her way. So the Friday after, she, standing at Marldane-end in London, with another woman, a friend of her's, saw Cluney, Bonner's sumner, coming in the street towards her house: whom when she saw, she said to the other woman standing with her, “Whither goeth yonder fine fellow?” said she: “I think surely he goeth to my house.” And in viewing him still, at the last she saw him enter in at her door. So immediately she went home, and asked him whom he sought: whereunto Cluney made answer and said, “For you; you must go with me.” “Marry,” quoth she, “here I am; I will go with you.” And coming to the bishop, she was laid in prison, and the Wednesday after, burnt with master Rough in Smithfield, as ye have heard. *Whereas mention and declaration was made before, that Bonner, the sooner to delude the simple and ignorant people, in the month of May, anno 1555, did cause Dr. Chedsey to publish openly at Paul's Cross, certain letters sent from the king and the queen — minding thereby to excuse and cloak his malignant murthers against the saints of God, and thereby, through that color, to cloak himself — did protest that he was never so cruel nor bloodthirsty as he was slanderously reported and charged withal, but rather compelled thereunto (having commandment given from the higher powers), must and would show himself ready to do his duty therein: I thought it therefore now expedient, upon so good an occasion here serving unto the same, somewhat to debate, and further to try out, this his visored obedience falsely by him pretensed. And although it may seem not greatly needful (his other wicked acts already sufficiently uttering the same), yet, this matter being so manifest, I may not altogether pass it over in silence. And therefore if Bonner, thus standing to the defense of his pretensed obedience, would needs have us conceive of him, that he is not so cruel and hasty to seek the blood of these men, but rather enforced thereunto through the commandment of the higher powers, then let him answer unto this his own handy-work, and his own commission here presently ensuing, so spitefully conceived, so cruelly given forth, of his own motion and proper authority, and, as they term it, ex suo officio; not only to inquire, but also to proceed in condemnation against all and singular such persons as should be found within his jurisdiction, not conformable unto that idolatrous and malignant church.

    What doth or can this declare, but a mind not only thirsty, but also greedy and almost insatiable, of blood? I have heard it so reported that Bonner, sitting at the board with his claret wine before \the, hath said, that where he hath been noted to be a blood-sucker, he never sucked any other blood, but that only in the goblet. If that be so, what meaneth then this unmerciful proclamation to hunt and chase out the poor innocents, and to bring them unto the fire? The sharp commission and proclamation set forth a little before by the king and queen, might it not seem enough and sufficient unto Bonner for that purpose, but he also must add to his? If that of theirs were not sharp and cruel enough, what more sharpness could Bonner put into it? if it were, what then needeth this commission of Bonner to stir up the coals? if he did it not without their wills and commandment, why doth it not so appear among his records? if he so did give it thus abroad upon his own head and motion, how can he defend himself from cruelty and blood-thirstiness?

    Furthermore, what meaneth those so many articles of Bonner given forth in his visitation, so cruel, so hasty, so inquisitive, so desperate and absurd, that the like hath not proceeded from any other bishop before? If the king and queen gave him in commandment to set them forth, let him show some record thereof: if not, how can he avoid the just reprehension of a cruel inclination, disposed to murther? And as concerning the articles, because they are in print already, and the matter not necessary to be repeated, we refer the reader [to them]: as concerning the commission, for that it hath not been in print heretofore, to give more evidence of his cruel disposition, we have here notified the same as we found it in his own records; to the intent that the reader, perusing and considering the same, may the better judge whether we say true or no. The copy of this his aforesaid commission, in his own words, thus followeth.

    A COMMISSION A232 OR WRIT SET FORTH BY BONNER, FOR INQUISITION OF SUCH AS FOLLOWED THE TRUE DOCTRINE OF CHRIST, AND OF HIS GOSPEL.

    Edmundus, permissione divina London episeopus, dilectis nobis in Christo Magistris, Edwardo Mowell, archdiaeono nostro Essexlee, Thomee Moorton et Joanni Kingston, in legibns baccalaureis, presbyteris nostris in pattibus, commissarils generalibus, salutein, gratiam, et benedietionem. Quia, ut accepimus et ad nostrum nuper pervenit auditurn, nonnulli iniquitatis filii, in comitatibus Essexice et Hertfordice, riostratum London. diceaoseos et jurisdictionis, commorantes et degentes, de et super crimine haereticae pravitatis apud bonos et graves non mediocriter suspecti et infamati din extiterunt et praesenti existunt; inumullosque errores ac opiniones haereticas et damnabiles, sicuti informamur, a diu jam (quod absque gravi cordis nostri dolore referre non possumus), in magnam Divium Majestatis oftensam, ac grayera sanetin orthodoxae fidel (saltem quantum in eis fuit) subversionera, denique in plurimorum Christi fidelium perniciosum exemplum, seminarunt, sparserunt, ac publicarunt, dictosque errores et haereses tenuerunt et defenderunt, ac, inter czetera, ob notam et suspiciones hujusmodi, caeteraque praemissa, per justitiarios et ministros serenissimze Regim Majestatis in ea parte deputatos, eorum aliqui custodiae carceris juste commissi et mancipati hoc tempore existunt: nos igitur, Edmundus episcopus antedictus, volentes, quantum possumus, tanti facinoris labem ex diceaesi nostrae Londonensi extiqare et eradicate, ac eidem morbo pervigili circumspectionis industrie occurrere, necnon pravitatem et labem criminis ac suspicionis hujusmodi depellere ac exterminare volentes, seil ne oyes ipsm morbidae totum reliquam gregem nobis divinitiis commissum suo malo exemplo inficiant et contaminent: ad cognoscentium igima et procedendum contra hujusmodi facinorosos, et alios quoseunque cujuseunque sexils, infra loca praedicta degentes et commorantes, de et super crimine haeresis irretitos et suspectos sive diffamatos, atque de ipsis haereticis, ac eorum libris reprobatis, fautoribus quoque reacptatoribus ac defensoribus, inquirendum et inquiri faciendum, eosque juxta juris exigentiam et morem in similibus haetenus usitatum examinandum; necnon quoscunque testes idoneos contra eosdem et eorum quemlibet recipiendum, admittendum, jurandum, et examinandum, ac ad meliorem vitro frugem convertendum et reducendum; ipsosque etiam haereticos super crimine havresis vehementer suspeatos, confessos, ac convictos, ac eorum fautores, receptatores, et defensores hujusmodi (si et quatenus eorum errores et opiniones damnaras respuere, abnegate, renuneiare, et abjurare, atque ad unitatem sanetin matris catholicae ecclesiae redire, voluerint) abjurandum et abjurari faciendum, ac ad gremium ejusdem ecclesiae catholicae et communionem Christi fidelium recipiendum, admittendum, et restituendum, a sententiqaue excommunicationis ac aliis sententiis, censuris, et poenis ecclesiasticis propter praemissa incursis absolvendum; alioquin contra eosdem delinquentes et eorum quemlibet ad ulteriora et graviora proeedendum, ac sententias et deereta quaeumque etiam relapsers, si res ita exegerit, contra cos juxta juris exigentiam farendum et fulminandum; necnon auxilium brachii secularis contra tales (si ac quotiens opus fuerit) invocandum et requirendum, hujusmodique haereticos obstinatos et impenitentes vel in haeresim relapsos excommunicandos, denunciandos, atque braehio seculari juxta canonicas sanctiones poena haeresis puniendos relinquends et tradendos, atque prout saeri canones volunt, ac juxta hujus ineliti regni Angliae statuta et consuetudinem laudabilem, tradendos et deliberandos; emtera quoque crania et singula in praemissis aut circa ec naecssaria seu quomodolibet equisita faciendum, exeraendum, exequendum, et expediendum, etiamsi majora de se exigunt et requirunt quam praesentibus est expressurn, et prout nosmetipsi faceremus et expediremus si prtemissis personaliter interessemus; vobis conjunetim et euilibet vestrim per se divisim, et in solidurn (de quorum sana doctrine, morum gravitate, conscientim puritate, et circumspectionis industria, in hiis et aliis plurimum confidimus), vices nostras committimus, ac plenam in Domino tenore praesentium concedimus potestatem; vosque conjunetim (ut praefertur) et divisim viearios nostros in spiritualibus generales, et commissarios speciales, quoad praemissa, cum eujuslibet coertionis canonleto potestate exequendi quae decreveritis, seu alter vestrim decreverit, in hac parte, ordinamus, praeficimus, et deputamus per raesentes; assumpto vobis in praemissis in attorum vestromae scribam Joanne Boswell, notario publico, vel, eo impedito, quocumque alio idoneo notario ejusmodi deputato; mandantes quatenfis de executione praesentium atque de omni eo quod in et circa praemissa vel eorum aliquod per vos aut aliquem vestrim factum, gesture, seu expeditum ruefir, nos, de tempore in ternpus, quam eitifis Doteritis, ac prout negotii hujusmodi qualitas vel naeessitas exegerit ea postulaverit, debit certificare curetis. Datum in manerio nostro de Fulham, 10. die mensis Junii, anno Domini 1557, et nostrae translationis anno decimo octavo.* ANNO 1558. f397 THE SUFFERING AND CRUEL TORMENTS OF CUTBERT SYMSOM, DEACON OF THE CHRISTIAN CONGREGATION IN LONDON, IN QUEEN MARY'S DAYS, MOST PATIENTLY ABIDING THE CRUEL RAGE OF THE PAPISTS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE.

    Next after the martyrdom of master Rough, minister of the congregation above mentioned, succeeded in like martyrdom the deacon also of that said godly company or congregation in London, named Cutbert Symson, being committed to the fire the year of our Lord 1558, the 28th day of March.

    This Cutbert Symson was a man of a faithful and zealous heart to Christ and his true flock, insomuch that he never ceased laboring and studying most earnestly, not only how to preserve them without corruption of the popish religion; but also his care was ever vigilant, how to keep them together without peril or danger of persecution. The pains, travail, zeal, patience, and fidelity of this man, in caring and providing for this *heavenly* congregation, as it is not lightly to be expressed, so *neither is it unworthy of story the merciful* providence a233 of the Lord by vision, concerning the troubles of this faithful minister and godly deacon, as in this here following may appear.

    The Friday at night before master Rough, minister of the congregation (of whom mention is made before) was taken, being in his bed, he dreamed that he saw two of the guard leading Cutbert Symson, deacon of the said congregation; and that he had the book about him, wherein were written the names of all them which were of the congregation. Whereupon being sore troubled, he awaked, and called his wife, saying, “Kate, strike a light, for I am much troubled with my brother Cutbert this night. When she had so done, he gave himself to read in his book awhile, and then, feeling sleep to come upon him, he put out the candle, and so gave himself again to rest.

    Being asleep, he dreamed the like dream again; and, awaking therewith, he said, “Oh! Kate, my brother Cutbert is gone.” So they lighted a candle again, and rose. And as the said master Rough was making him ready to go to Cutbert, to see how he did, in the mean time the said Cutbert came in with the book containing the names and accounts of the congregation: whom when master Rough had seen, he said, “Brother Cutbert, ye are welcome; for I have been sore troubled with you this night;” and so told him his dream After he had so done, he willed him to lay the book away from him, *and to take a note only of them that had not payed,* and to carry it no more about him. Unto which Cutbert answered, he would not so do: for dreams, he said, were but fantasies, and not to be credited. Then master Rough straitly charged him, in the name of the Lord, to do it.

    Whereupon the said Cutbert took such notes out of the book, as he had willed him to do, and immediately, left the book with master Rough's wife, *who kept it twoo monethes after.* The next day following, in the night, the said master Rough had another dream in his sleep concerning his own trouble; the matter whereof was this. He thought in his dream, that he was carried himself forcibly to the bishop, and that the bishop plucked off his' beard, and cast it into the fire, saying these words, “Now I may say I have had a piece of a heretic burned in my house:” and so accordingly it came to pass. *The said master Rough, having a child in his bed with him at that time, of two years of age, yet alive, called Rachel, suddenly she awoke in the night, and cried: “Alas, alas, my father is gone, my father is gone;” and, for all that they could do or speak, long it was or she could be persuaded that he was there. A candle being lighted, and she, coming better to herself, saw him, and took him about the neck, and said, “Father, now I will hold you, that you go not away:” and so twice or thrice repeated the same. Then they fell asleep again the same night, and so master Rough his wife, being troubled in like case, dreamed that she saw one James Mearing's wife (who also was burned at the same stake with maister Rough) going down the street with a bloody banner in her hand, and a fire-pan on her head. Then suddenly she arising to go see her, she thought she stumbled on a great hog, and had a mighty fall thereby; through the sudden fear whereof she awoke, and said, “I am never able to rise again.”* Now to return to Cutbert again; as we have touched something before concerning his visions, so now remaineth to story also of his pains and sufferings upon the rack, and otherwise, like a good Laurence for the congregation's sake, as he wrote it with his own hand.

    A LETTER OF CUTBERT SYMSON TO CERTAIN OF HIS FRIENDS. f400 A true report how I was used in the Tower of London, being sent thither by the council, the 13th day of December. — On the Thursday after, I was called into the warehouse, before the constable of the Tower and the Recorder of London, master Cholmley: they commanded me to tell, whom I did will to come to the English service. I answered, I would declare nothing.

    Whereupon I was set in a rack of iron, the space of three hours as I judged.

    Then they asked me if I would tell them. I answered as before.

    Then was I loosed, and carried to my lodging again. On the Sunday after I was brought into the same place again before the lieutenant and the recorder of London, and they examined me. As before I had said, I answered. Then the lieutenant did swear by God I should tell. Then did they bind my two fore-fingers together, and put a small arrow betwixt them, and drew it through so fast that the blood followed, and *that* the arrow brake.

    Then they racked me twice. Then was I carried to my lodging again, and ten days after the lieutenant asked me, if I would not confess that which before they had asked me. I said, I had said as much as I would. Then, five weeks after, he sent me unto the high priest, where I was greatly assaulted, and at whose hand I received the pope's curse, for bearing witness of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And thus I commend you unto God, and to the word of his grace, with all them that unfeignedly call upon the name of Jesus, desiring God of his endless mercy, through, the merits of his dear Son Jesus Christ, to bring us all to his everlasting kingdom, Amen. I praise God for his great mercy showed upon us. Sing “Hosanna unto the highest,” with me Cutbert Symson. God forgive me my sins! I ask all the world forgiveness, and I do forgive all the world, and thus I leave this world, in hope of a joyful resurrection.

    Now as touching this Cutbert Symson, this further is to be noted, that Bonner in his consistory, speaking of Cutbert Symson, gave this testimony of him there to the people, saying, “Ye see this man, saith he, “what a personable man he is:” and after he had thus commended his person, added moreover, “And furthermore concerning: his patience, I say unto you, that if he were not a heretic, he is a man of the greatest patience that yet ever came before me: for I tell you, he hath been thrice lacked upon one day in the Tower. Also in my house he hath felt some sorrow, and yet I never saw his patience broken,” etc.

    It is thought and said of some, that that arrow which was grated betwixt his fingers, being tied together, was not in the Tower, but in the bishop’s house.

    The day before the blessed deacon and martyr of God, Cutbert Symson, after his painful racking, should go to his condemnation before Bonner, to be burnt, being in the bishop’s coalhouse there in the stocks, he had a certain vision or apparition very strange, which he himself with his own mouth declared to the godly learned man, master Austen, to his own wife, and Thomas Symson, and to others besides, in the prison of Newgate, a little before his death; the relation whereof I stand in no little doubt whether to report abroad or not, considering with myself’ the great diversity of men’s judgments in the reading of histories, and variety of affections. Some I see will not believe it; some will deride the same; some also will be offended with setting forth things of that sort uncertain, esteeming all things to be uncertain and incredible, whatsoever is strange from the common order of nature: others will be perchance aggrieved, thinking with themselves, or else thus reasoning with me, that although the matter were as is reported, yet forsomuch as the common error of believing rash miracles, fantasies, visions, dreams, and apparitions, thereby may be confirmed, more expedient it were the same to be unset forth.

    These, and such like, will be, I know, the sayings of many. Whereunto briefly I answer, granting first, and admitting with the words of Basil, ouj pa~n ojnei>ar ejsti< profhtei>a ; that is, “Not every dream is straightway a prophecy.” Again, neither am I ignorant that the papists, in their books and legends of saints, have their prodigious visions and apparitions of angels, of our Lady, of Christ, and other saints; which as I will not admit to be believed for true, so will they ask me again, why should I then more require these to be credited of them, than theirs of us.

    First, I write not this, binding any man precisely to believe the same, so as they do theirs, but only report it as it hath been heard of persons known, naming also the parties who were the hearers thereof, leaving the judgment thereof, notwithstanding, free unto the arbiterment of the reader. Albeit, it is no good argument, proceeding from the singular or particular, to the universal, to say that visions be not trite in some: ergo, they be true in none. And if any shall muse, or object again, Why should such visions be given to him, or a few other singular persons, more than to all the rest, seeing the others were in the same cause and quarrel, and died also martyrs as well as he? to this, I say, concerning the Lord’s times and doings I have not to meddle nor make, who may work where and when it pleaseth him.

    And what if the Lord thought chiefly above the others with singular consolation to respect him, who, chiefly above the others, and’ singularly, did suffer most exquisite torments for his sake? What great marvel herein?

    But, as I sad, of the Lord’s secret times I have not to reason. This only which hath out of the man’s own mouth been received, so as I received it of the parties, I thought here to communicate to, the reader, for him to judge thereof as God shall rule his mind. The matter is this. The day before this Symson was condemned, he being in the stocks, Cluney his keeper cometh in with the keys about nine of the clock at night (after his usual manner), to view his prison, and see whether all were present, who, when he espied the said Cutbert to be there, departed again, locking the doors after him. Within two hours after, about eleven of the clock toward midnight, the said Cutbert (whether being in a slumber, or being awake I cannot say) heard one coming in, first opening the outward door, then the second, after the third door, and so looking in to the said Cutbert, having no candle or torch that he could see, but giving a brightness and light most comfortable and joyful to his heart, saying, “Hah!” unto him, and departed again. Who it was he could not tell, neither I dare define. This that he saw, he himself declared four or five times to the said master Austen, and to others; at the sight whereof he received such joyful comfort, that he also expressed no little solace in telling and declaring the same.

    ARTICLES SEVERALLY MINISTERED TO CUTBERT SYMSON, THE 19TH DAY OF MARCH, WITH HIS ANSWERS ALSO TO THE SAME ANNEXED.

    First, That thou Cutbert Symson art at this present abiding within the city and diocese of London, and not out of the jurisdiction of the bishop of Rome. Item, That thou, within the city and diocese of London, hast uttered many times and. spoken deliberately, these words and sentences following: videlicet, that though thy parents, ancestors, kinsfolks, and friends, yea, and also thyself, before the time of the late schism here in this realm of England, have thought and thoughtest, that the faith and religion observed in times past here in this realm of England, was a true faith and religion of Christ, in all points and articles, though in the church it was set forth in the Latin tongue, and not in English, yet thou believest and sayest, that the faith and religion, now used commonly in this realm, not in the English, but in the Latin tongue, is not the true faith and religion of Christ, but contrary and expressly against it. Item, That thou, within the said city and diocese of London, hast willingly, wittingly, and contemptuously done, and spoken against the rites and the ceremonies commonly used here through the whole realm, and observed generally in the church of England. Item, That thou hast thought and believed certainly, and so within the diocese of London hast affirmed and spoken deliberately, that there be not in the catholic church seven sacraments, nor of that virtue and efficacy as is commonly believed in the church of England them to be. Item, That thou hast likewise thought and believed, yea, and hast so within the city and diocese of London spoken, and deliberately affirmed, that in the sacrament of the altar there is not really, substantially and truly, the very body and blood of our Savior Jesus Christ; Item, That thou hast been, and to thy power art at this present, a favorer of all those, that either have been here in this realm heretofore called heretics, or else convented and condemned by the ecclesiastical judges for heretics. Item, That thou, contrary to the order of this realm of England, and contrary to the usage of the holy church of this realm of England, hast at sundry times and places within the city and diocese of London, bee n at assemblies and conventicles, where there was a multitude of people gathered together to hear the English service said, which was set forth in the latter years of king Edward the sixth, and also to hear and have the Communion Book. read, and the communion ministered, both to the said multitude, and also to thyself; and thou hast thought, and so thinkest, and hast spoken, that the said English service and Communion Book, and all things contained in either of them were good and laudable, and for such thou didst and dost allow and approve either of them, at this present.

    THE ANSWER OF THE SAID CUTBERT TO THE FORESAID ARTICLES.

    Unto all which articles the said Cutbert Symson answered thus, or the like in effect.

    To the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth articles, he confessed them to be true in every part thereof.

    To the seventh article he said, that he was not bound to answer unto it, as he believeth. *The Information of Roger Sergeant, given to the Bishop of London and his Officers: where he accuseth divers persons, and, in the end, betrayed the Congregation into the hands of the bloody Butcher, as here in this Information he promised to do; whereby many were apprehended also and brought in trouble, and examined, whose Informations here after followeth.

    Roger Sergeant, born in Buckinghamshire, tailor, of the age of forty years or above, now of the parish of St. Edmund’s, in Lombardstreet, saith: that at the Swan at Limehouse, or else at St.

    Katherine’s at one Frogg’s, or at the King’s-head at Ratcliffe, the assembly shall be “dominica tertia Adventus,” between nine and eleven aforenoon, and from one till four at afternoon. And sometime the meeting is at Horsleydown, beyond Battle-bridge.

    Commonly the usage is, to have all the English service without any diminishing, wholly as it was in the time of king Edward the sixth; neither praying for the king nor the queen; despising the sacrament of the altar, and the coming to church, saying that a man cannot come to the church, except he be partaker of all the evils there.

    They have reading and preaching, and the minister is a Scotchman, whose name he knoweth not; and they have two deacons that gather money, which is distributed to the prisoners in the Marshalsea, King’s-bench, Lollards’-tower, Newgate, and to the poor that come to the assembly; some women be childbearing, and some women above sixty years of age, and divers coming more for money than aught else. This informer hath been there twice and no more; but he will go thither again, that such as shall be sent to apprehend the malefactors, may know the places and persons.

    Frogg a Dutchman, dwelling at St. Katherine’s, is one of the assembly. Item, one Hammerton, a smith, lately dwelling in St.

    Katherine’s. Item, one James, a cobbler, dwelling in Budge-row in Well-alley, having also a shop at St. Austin’s gate in Paul’s churchyard. Item, a young fellow, a butcher, dwelling in Shoreditch, whose name he knoweth not. Item, one William Ellerby, tailor, dwelling in St. Clement’s lane, by Lombard-street, in St. Edmund’s parish. Item, one John Osborne, dwelling at Lambeth town, a silk-dyer.

    All these did this wicked man, the said Roger Sergeant, accuse to be of this congregation; who wretchedly, according to his promise in this information, went, like Judas with Herod’s soldiers, to Islington, and there most falsely betrayed master Rough, and Cutbert Symson, with five other, into the hands of their enemies, the day mentioned in their stories; for there it was seen, of some good people that be yet alive.

    THE INFORMATION OF JAMES MEARING. f403 Cutbert is an officer or deacon in the assembly, a rich man dwelling in London. Cluney doth know him. He is paymaster to the prisoners in the Marshalsea, Ludgate, Lollards’-tower, and in other places of prison, as the Counters, etc., and executor to the prisoners that die, and collector of the assembly when the reading is done; and had the goods of James and his wife, that was brent at Islington. And likewise one Brook at Queen-hythe, salter, and seller of earthen pots; a rich man, not coming to church; a collector also, and keeper of the money for the prisoners. Maystres Barber in Fish-street, a fishmonger’s wife, Chuney knoweth; she also is a collector for the said prisoners. The meeting sometimes is at Wapping, at one Church’s house, hard by the water side; sometimes at a widow’s house at Ratcliffe, at the King’s head there; sometimes at St. Katharine’s, at a shoemaker’s house, a Dutchman called Frog. the assembly, “dominica terria Adventus,” either at St. Katherine’s in Frog’s house; either at Wapping at the said Church’s house. Sometime the assembly beginnth at seven in the morning, or at eight; sometime at nine; and then, or soon after, they dine, and tarry till two of the dock, and, among other things, they talk and make officers. Sometime the assembly is at Battlebridge, at a dyer’s house, betwixt two butchers there; despising the sacrament of the altar, the pope, the coming to church, and the priest. In that assembly there is a minister and two deacons that gather money.

    THE INFORMATION OF WILLIAM ELLERBY, TAILOR.

    William Ellerby tailor, in St. Clement’s lane, in St. Edmund’s parish, in Lombard-street, confesseth that he knoweth a Scotchman called John Rough, and that he hath been at the assembly kept at Ratcliffe, at the King’s-head, at the widow’s house there; where one Coste did read, in English, three psalms, that is to wit, “Confitemini,” “Magnificat,” “Nunc dimittis,” upon a Sunday, after even-song. At which assembly there were about thirty of men and women whom he !knew not, saving one Roger Sergeaunt, his own man, that went thither with him. And he saith that one Osborne, of Lambeth town, gave this examinate knowledge of the said assembly, which assembly lasted about half an hour; some sitting at the table, some standing to hear the said Scot, having three or four pots of beer before the said Scot came to the assembly at Frogg’s and went to the said play. And this examinate had found in his house at Lambeth town, when the search went for him, two English books, the one a “Psalter in English,” and the other an “Instruction of a Christian Man.”

    THE INFORMATION OF ELIZABETH CHURCHMAN.

    Elizabeth Churchman, the wife of John Churchman of Wapping, being examined the 17th day of December, 1557, before the bishop of London at his palace at Paul’s, saith, that upon a holy-day about ten days agone, there were about ten persons that came to her husband’s house there, and had there a shoulder of mutton and a piece of pork roasted; and also of her they had bread and drink, and two or three faggots; coming thither before ten of the clock aforenoon, and departed about twelve of the clock. And at their departure, and the coming home of her husband, she saith, she told him of a company that had been there, who, after their refection, said grace, and one called another “brother; ” one of them having in his hand a book: and she also, as she saith, said to her husband, asking who they were; and also, that she judged that they were scripture men, and that they were learned, and also that they should come no more thither if they were not good; and her said husband therein so con-eluded and agreed with her in the same.

    THE INFORMATION OF ALICE WARNER, WIDOW.

    Alice Warner, widow, of Ratcliffe in the parish of Stepney, testifieth and saith: that upon a Sunday, six weeks agone, a certain company of Frenchmen, Dutchmen, and other strangers, and, amongst them Englishmen, appearing to be young merchants, to the number of a score, resorted to her house of the King’s-head at Ratcliffe; requesting to have a pig roasted, and half a dozen faggots to be brent. In the mean time the said company went into a back house, where they were two sundry times; the first time, between twelve and one, they were reading, but what, she cannot tell, whether it was a testament or some other book; and they tarried there about two hours. The second time was three weeks past, upon a holy-day, about the middle of the week; at which time they repaired to her house about seven o’clock in the morning, who had a fire and bread and beer within the said back house. And then this examinate, going abroad, did see the said multitude, and perceived that they also then did read, but what, she cannot tell; and the said multitude did tarry there from seven till ten before noon, and, at their departure, they labored to this examinate that they might always have the said back house at their pleasure, to make good cheer at their repairing thither. Unto which demand this examinate, as she saith, made then answer unto them, that they should pardon hot, for she perceiveth that they were not able to justify their doings after that sort, and she would not bring herself in danger for none of them all. And she saith that her maid said that she judged them to he the same that were first there; and how the said multitude called one another “brother,” and did every one, to his hability, east down upon the table money, which was two pence a piece. And this examinate saith, that she asked of one of the said multitude, how the said money was disposed; answer being to her by him given, that it was to the use and relief of the poor. And this examinate thinketh it was a Frenchman, or some other outlandishman, because he spoke evil English.

    Thus have you the notes of such depositions as the cruel papists did extort out of poor and ignorant people by force of their oath, to complain of their innocent and harmless neighbors. Now followeth the letter of Cutbert Symson to his godly wife.* A LETTER OF CUTBERT SYMSON, WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE OUT OF THE COALHOUSE.

    Dearly beloved in the Lord Jesus Christ, I cannot write as I do wish unto you.

    I beseech you with my soul, commit yourself under the mighty hand of our God, trusting in his mercy, and he will surely help us as shall be most unto his glory and our everlasting comfort; being sure of this, that he will suffer nothing to come unto us, but that which shall be most profitable for us. For it is either a correction for our sins, or a trial of our faith, or to set forth his glory, or for all together; and therefore must needs be well done. For there is nothing that cometh unto us by fortune or chance, but by our heavenly Father’s providence: and therefore pray unto our heavenly Father, that he will ever give us his grace to consider it.

    Let us give him most hearty thanks for these his fatherly corrections; for as many as he loveth, he correcteth. And I beseech you now be of good cheer, and count the cross of Christ greater riches than all the vain pleasures of England. I do not doubt (I praise God for it) but that you have supped with Christ at his Maundy , a234 I mean, believed in him: for that is the effect, and then must you drink of his cup, ! mean his cross (for that doth the cup signify unto us). Take the cup with a good stomach, in the name of God; and then shall you be sure to have the good wine, Christ’s blood, to thy poor thirsty soul. And when you have the wine, you must drink it out of this cup: learn this when you come to the Lord’s supper. Pray continually. In all things give thanks.

    In the name of Jesus shall every knee bow. Cutbert Symson.

    HUGH FOXE AND JOHN DEVENISH, FELLOWMARTYRS WITH CUTBERT With Cutbert likewise were apprehended and also suffered (as is before mentioned) Hugh Foxe and John Devenish; who, being brought ‘unto their examinations with the said Cutbert, before Bonner bishop of London, the 19th day of March, had articles and interrogatories to them ministered by the said officer, albeit not all at one time. For first to the said Cutbert several articles were propounded; then other articles in general were ministered to them altogether. The order and manner of which articles, now jointly to them ministered, here follow, with their answers also to the same annexed to be seen.

    ARTICLES GENERALLY MINISTERED BY THE BISHOP TO FOXE, DEVENISH AND SYMSON, THE SAID 19TH DAY OF MARCH, WITH THEIR ANSWERS TO THE SAME ANNEXED.

    After these articles thus ministered and laid to Cutbert Symson, with his answers likewise unto the same, the bishop, calling them all together, objected to them other positions and articles, the same which before are mentioned in the story of Bartlet Green; only the eighth article out of the same omitted and excepted: which articles, because they are expressed in the place above mentioned, we need not here make any new report thereof, but only refer the reader to the place assigned.

    THEIR ANSWERS IN GENERAL TO THE ARTICLES.

    To the first article they all answered affirmatively: but John Devenish added, that that church is grounded upon the prophets and apostles, Christ being the head corner-stone; and how in that church there is the true faith and religion of Christ.

    To the second they all confessed and believed, that in Christ’s catholic church there are but two sacraments, that is to wit, baptism and the supper of the Lord: otherwise they do not believe the contents of this article to be true in any part thereof.

    To the third they all answered affirmatively.

    To the fourth they all answered affirmatively.

    To the fifth they all answered affirmatively, that they do believe, and have spoken and will speak, against the sacrifice of the mass, the sacrament of the altar, and likewise against the authority of the see of Rome; and are nothing sorry for the same, but will do it still, while they live.

    To the sixth they all answered, and denied to acknowledge the authority of the see of Rome to be lawful and good, either yet his religion.

    To the seventh they all answered affirmatively, that they have and will do so still while they live; and John Devenish, adding thereto, said, that the sacrament of the altar, as it is now used, is no sacrament at all.

    To the eighth they all confessed, and believed all things, above by them acknowledged and declared, to be true; and that they be of the diocese of London, and jurisdiction of the same.

    These three above-named persons, and blessed witnesses of Jesus Christ, Cutbert, Foxe, and Devenish, as they were altogether apprehended at Islington, as is above declared, so the same all three together suffered ‘in Smithfield, about the 28th day of March, in whose perfect constancy the same Lord, in whose cause and quarrel they suffered (giver of all grace, and governor of all things), be exalted for ever: Amen.

    THE SUFFERING AND MARTYRDOM OF WILLIAM NICHOL, PUT TO DEATH BY THE WICKED HANDS OF THE PAPTISTS AT DABERFORD-WEST IN WALES.

    We find in all ages from the beginning, that Satan hath not ceased at all times to molest the church of Christ with one affliction or other, to the trial of their faith; but yet never so apparently at any time to all the world, as when the Lord hath permitted him power over the bodies of his saints, to the shedding of their blood, and perverting of their religion; for then sleepeth he not, I warrant you, from the murdering of the same, unless they will fall down with Ahab and Jezebel to worship him, and so kill and poison their own souls eternally; as in these miserable latter days of queen Mary we have felt, heard, and seen practiced upon God’s people. Among whom we find recorded an honest good simple poor man, one William Nichol, who was apprehended by the champions of the pope, for speaking certain words against the cruel kingdom of antichrist, and the 9th day of April, anno 1558, was butcherly burnt and tormented at Haveford-west in Wales, where he ended his life in a most happy and blessed state, and gloriously gave his soul into the hands of the Lord, whose goodness be praised for ever! Amen.

    This William Nichol (as we are informed) was so simple a good soul, that many esteemed him half foolish. But what he was, we know not; but this we are sure, he died a good man, and in a good cause, whatsoever they judge of him. And the more simplicity and feebleness of wit appeared in him, the more beastly and wretched doth it declare their cruel and tyrannical act therein. The Lord give them repentance there-for, if it be his blessed will! Amen, Amen.

    THE STORY AND MARTYRDOM OF WILLIAM SEAMAN, THOMAS CARMAN, AND THOMAS HUSON, PUT TO DEATH BY THE PERSECUTING PAPISTS AT NORWICH.

    Immediately after William Nichol, succeeded in that honorable and glorious vocation of martyrdom, three constant godly men at Norwich, in Norfolk; who were cruelly and tyrannically put to death for the true testimony of Jesus Christ, the 19th of May, anno 1558. whose names be these: William Seaman, Thomas Carman, and Thomas Hudson.

    The said William Seaman was a husbandman, of the age of thirty-six years, dwelling in Mendlesham, in the county of Suffolk, who was sundry times sought for by the commandment of sir John Tyrrel, knight, and at last he himself in the night searched his house and other places for him; notwithstanding he somewhat missed of his purpose, God be thanked.

    Then he gave charge to his servants, Robert Baulding and James Clarke, with others to seek for him; who, having no officer, went in the evening to his house, where he being at home, they took him and carried him to their master, sir John Tyrrel. This Baulding, being Seaman’s nigh neighbor, and whom the said Seaman a235 greatly trusted as a special friend, notwithstanding (to do his master a pleasure), now became enemy to his chief friend, and was one of the busiest in the taking of him. Now as they were going to carry him to their master sir John Tyrrel in the night, it is credibly reported that there fell a light between them out of the element;, and parted them, this Baulding being in company with the rest when the light fell; and albeit he was then in his best age, yet after that time never enjoyed good day, but pined away even to death.

    Well, for all that strange sight (as I said), they carried him to their master; who, when he came, asked him why he would not go to mass, and receive the sacrament, and so to worship it? Unto which William Seaman answered, denying it to be a sacrament, but said it was an idol, and therefore would not receive it. After which words spoken, sir John Tyrrel shortly sent him to Norwich, to Hopton, then bishop. and there, after conference and examination had with him, the bishop read his; bloody sentence of condemnation against him; and afterward delivered him to the secular power, who kept him unto the day of martyrdom.

    This said William Seaman left behind him when he died, a wife and three children very young and with the said young children his wife was persecuted out of the said town also of Mendlesham, because that she would not go to hear mass; and all her corn and goods [were] seized and taken away by master Christopher Coles’s officers, he being lord of the said town.

    Thomas Carman a236 (who, as is said, pledged Richard Crash field at his burning, and thereupon was apprehended), being prisoner in Norwich, was, about one time with the rest, examined and brought before the said bishop, who answered no less in his Master’s cause than the other; and therefore had the like reward that the other had, which was the bishop’s bloody blessing of condemnation; and [was] delivered also to the secular power, who kept him with the other until the day of slaughter, which hasted on, and was not long after.

    Thomas Hudson was of Aylsham, in Norfolk, by his occupation a glover, a very honest poor man, having a wife and three children, laboring always truly and diligently in his vocation, being of thirty years of age; and bearing so good a will to the gospel, that he in the days of king Edward the sixth, two years before queen Mary’s reign, learned to read English of Anthony and Thomas Norgate, of the same town, wherein he greatly profited about the time of alteration of religion. For when queen Mary came to reign, and had changed the service in the church, putting in for wheat, draft and darnel, and for good preaching, blasphemous crying out against truth and godliness; he then, avoiding all their ceremonies of superstition, absented himself from his house, and went into Suffolk a long time, and there remained travelling from one place to another, as occasion was offered. At the last he returned back again to Norfolk, to his house at Aylsham, to comfort his wife and children, being heavy, and troubled with his absence.

    Now when he came home, and perceived his continuance there would be dangerous, he and his wife devised to make him a place among his faggots to hide himself’ in, where he remained all the day (instead of his chamber) reading and praying continually, for the space of half a year, and his wife, like an honest woman being careful for him, used herself faithfully and diligently towards him.

    In the mean time came the vicar of the town, named Berry (who was one of the bishop’s commissaries, a very evil man), and inquired of this said Thomas Hudson’s wife, for her husband: unto whom she answered, as not knowing where he was. Then the said Berry rated her, and threatened to burn her, for that she would not bewray her husband where he was. After that when Hudson understood it, he waxed every day more zealous than other, and continually read and sang psalms to the wonder of many, the people openly resorting to him, to hear his exhortations and vehement prayers.

    At the last he walked abroad for certain days openly in the town, crying out continually against the mass and all their trumpery, and in the end, coming home in his house, he sat him down upon his knees, having his book by him, reading and singing psalms continually without ceasing for three days and three nights together, refusing meat and other talk, to the great wonder of many.

    Then one John Crouch, his next neighbor, went to the constables Robert Marsham and Robert Lawes, in the night, to certify them thereof; for Berry commanded openly to watch for him: and the constables, understanding the same, went cruelly to catch him in the break of the day, the 22d of the month of April, anno 1558.

    Now when Hudson saw them come in, he said, “Now mine hour is come.

    Welcome friends, welcome! You be they that shall lead me to life in Christ.

    I thank God there-for, and the Lord enable me thereto for his mercy’s sake.” For his desire was, and ever he prayed (if it were the Lord’s will), that he might suffer for the gospel of Christ.

    Then they took him, and led him to Berry the commissary, which was vicar of the town; and the said Berry asked him first, where he kept his church for four years before; to the which the said Hudson answered thus:

    Wheresoever he was, there was the church. “Dost thou not believe,” said Berry, “in the sacrament of the altar? what is it?” “It is worms’ meat: my belief,” saith Hudson, “is Christ crucified.” “Dost thou not believe the mass to put away sins?” “No, God forbid ! it is a patched monster, and a disguised puppet; more longer a piecing than ever was Solomon’s Temple.”

    At which words Berry stamped, fumed, and showed himself as a madman, and said, “Well, thou villain, thou! I will write to the bishop my good lord: and, trust unto it, thou shalt be handled according to thy deserts.” “Oh! sir,” said Hudson, “there is no Lord but God, though there be many lords and many gods.” With that Berry thrust him back with his hand. And one Richard Cliffar, standing by, said, “I pray you sir, be good to the poor man.” At which words Berry was more mad than before, and would have had Cliffar bound in a recognizance of forty pounds, for his good abearing both in word and deed; which his desire took no effect. Then he asked the said Hudson whether he would recant, or no. Unto the which words Hudson said, “The Lord forbid! I had rather die many deaths than to do so.”

    Then, after long talk, the said Berry, seeing it booted not to persuade with him, took his pen and ink, and wrote letters to the bishop thereof, and sent this Hudson to Norwich bound like a thief to him, which was eight miles from thence, who with joy and singing-cheer went thither, as merry as ever he was at any time before. In prison he was a month, where he did continually read, and invocate the name of God. These three Christians and constant martyrs, William Seaman, Thomas Carman, and Thomas Hudson, after they were (as ye have heard) condemned the 19th day of May, anno 1558, were carried out of prison to the place where they should suffer, which was without Bishop’s-gate at Norwich, called Lollards’ Pit; and,. being all there, they made their humble petitions unto the Lord. That being done, they rose and went to the stake; and standing all there with their chains about them, immediately this said Thomas Hudson cometh forth from them under the chain, to the great wonder of many; whereby divers feared and greatly doubted of him. For some thought he would have recanted; other judged rather that he went to ask further \lay, and to desire conference; and some thought he came forth to ask some of his parents’ blessing. So some thought one thing, and some another: but his two companions at the stake cried out to comfort him what they could, exhorting him in the bowels of Christ to be of good. cheer, etc. But this sweet Hudson felt more in his heart and conscience than they could conceive in him: for, alas, good soul! he was compassed (God knoweth) with great dolor and grief of mind, not for his death, but for lack of feeling of his Christ: and therefore, being very careful, he humbly fell down upon his knees, and prayed vehemently and earnestly unto the Lord, who at the last (according to his old mercies) sent him comfort; and then rose he with great joy, as a man new changed even from death to life, and said: “Now, I thank God, I am strong, and pass not what man can do unto me.” So, going to the stake to his fellows again, in the end they all suffered most joyfully, constantly, and manfully, the death together, and were consumed in fire, to the terror of the wicked, the comfort of God’s children, and the magnifying of the Lord’s name, who be praised there-for for ever; Amen. After this, the foresaid commissary Berry made great stir about others which were suspected within the said town of Aylsham, and caused two hundred to creep to the cross at Pentecost, besides other punishments which they sustained. On a time this Berry gave a poor man of his parish of Marsham a blow with the swingel of a flail, for a word-speaking, that presently thereon he died; and the said Berry, as is said, held up his hand at the bar there-for.

    Then, after that, in his parish of Aylsham a237 also, anno 1557, there was one Alice Oxes came to his house, and going into the hall, he, meeting her (being before moved), smote her with his fist, whereby she was fain to be carried home, and the next day was found dead in her chamber.

    To write how many concubines and whores he had, none would believe it, but such as knew him in the country where he dwelt. He was rich, and of great authority, a great swearer, altogether given to women, and persecuting the gospel, and compelling men to idolatry.

    One John Norgate, a mart learned, godly, and zealous, who would not go to their trash, but rather die, being sore hunted by the said Berry, prayed heartily to God, and the Lord shortly after in a consumption delivered him.

    Notwithstanding the rage of this wicked man waxed fiercer and fiercer. He troubled sundry men, burnt all good books that he could get, and divorced many men and women *a sonder* for religion.

    When he heard say that queen Mary was dead, and the glory of their triumph quailed, the Sunday after, being the 20th a238 of November, anno 1558, he made a great feast, and had one of his concubines there, with whom he was in his chamber after dinner, until even-song. Then went he to church, where he had baptism ministered a239 *; and in going from church homeward after even-song, between the churchyard and his house, being but a little space (as it were a churchyard breadth asunder), he fell down suddenly to the ground with a heavy groan, and never stirred after, neither showed any one token of repentance.

    This happened his neighbors being by, to the example of all others. The Lord grant we may observe his judgments! And those that had his great riches, since his death have so consumed with them, that they be poorer now, than they were before they had his goods: such judgment hath the Lord executed to the eyes of all men.

    At that time one Dunning, chancel]or of Lincoln (which in some part of queen Mary’s days was chancellor of Norwich, and a very merciless tyrant as lived), died in Lincolnshire of as sudden a warning as the said Berry died.

    Thus have I showed thee, good reader, the constancy, boldness, and glorious victory, of these happy martyrs; as also the tyrannical cruelty of that unfortunate commissary, and his terrible end.

    The Lord grant we may all effectually honor the judgments of God, and fear to displease his holy Majesty, Amen.

    THE PERSECUTION OF MOTHER SEAMAN.

    About this time, or somewhat before, was one Joan Seaman, mother to the aforesaid William Seaman, being of the age of threescore and six )’ears, persecuted of the said sir John Tyrrel also, out of the town of Mendlesham aforesaid, because she would not go to mass and receive against her conscience; which good old woman being from her house, was glad sometime to lie in *rowes,* bushes, groves, and fields, and sometime in her neighbor’s house, when she could. And her husband being at home, about the age of eighty years, fell sick; and she, hearing thereof, with speed returned home to her house again, not regarding her life, but considering her duty; and showed her diligence to her husband most faithfully, until God took him away by death. Then by God’s providence she fell sick also, and departed this life within her own house shortly after.

    And when one master Symonds the commissary heard of it, dwelling thereby in a town called Thorndon, he commanded straitly that she should be buried in no christian burial (as they call it), where-through her friends were compelled to lay her in a pit, under a moat’s side. Her husband and she kept a good house, and had a good report amongst their neighbors, willing always to receive strangers, and to comfort the poor and sick; and lived together in the holy estate of matrimony very honestly above forty years. And she departed this life willingly and joyfully, with a steadfast faith, and a good remembrance of God’s promises a240 in Christ Jesus.

    THE PERSECUTION OF MOTHER BENET.

    In the said time of queen Mary, there dwelt in the town of Wetheringset by Mendlesham aforesaid, a very honest woman called mother Benet, a widow, which was persecuted out of the same town, because she would not go to mass, and other their beggarly ceremonies; butt, at the last, she returned home again secretly to her house, and there departed this life joyfully. But sir John Tyrrel, and master Symonds the commissary, would not let her be buried in the churchyard: so was she laid in a grave by the highway side.

    The same good old woman mother Benet, in the time of persecution, met one of the said mother Seaman’s neighbors, and asked her how the said mother Seaman did; and she answered, that she did very well, God be thanked. “Oh!” said she, “mother Seaman hath stept a great step before me; for she was never covetous, that I could perceive.”

    Her husband in his mirth would say unto her, “O woman! if thou wert sparing, thou mightest have saved me a hundred marks more than thou hast:” to the which she would answer again gently, and say, “O man! be content, and let us be thankful; for God hath given us enough, if we can see it. Alas, good husband!” would she say, “I tell you truth; I cannot firkin up my butter, and keep my cheese in the chamber and wait a great price, and let the poor want, and so displease God. But, husband, let us be rich in good works, and so shall we please the Lord, and have all good things given us,” etc. This good woman, of that vice of covetousness, of all that knew her was judged least to be spotted, of any infirmity she had. The Lord root it out of the hearts of them that be infected therewith, Amen!

    THE MARTYRDOM OF THREE CONSTANT AND GODLY PERSONS, BURNT AT COLCHESTER FOR THE DEFENCE AND TESTIMONY OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL.

    Thou hast heard, good reader a241 , of the forenamed three that were burnt at Norwich, whose blood quenched not the persecuting thirst of the papists: for immediately after, even the same month, upon the 26th day, was seen the like murder also at Colchester in Essex of two men and a woman, lying there in prison appointed ready to the slaughter; who were brought forth the same day unto a place prepared for them to suffer, and accordingly gave their lives for the testimony of the truth, whose names likewise hereafter follow: William Harris, Richard Day, and Christian George.

    These three good souls were brought unto the stake, and there joyfully ,and fervently had made their prayers unto the Lord. At the last, being settled in their places, and chained unto their posts, with the fire flaming fiercely round about them, they like constant Christians triumphantly praised God within the same, and offered up their bodies a lively sacrifice unto his holy Majesty; in whose habitation they have now their everlasting tabernacles: his name therefore be praised for evermore, Amen.

    The said Christian George’s husband had another wife burnt before this Christian, whose name was Agnes George, which suffered, as you have heard, with the thirteen at Stratford-le-Bow. And after the death of the said Christian, he married an honest godly woman again; and so they both (I mean the said Richard George and his last wife), in the end, were taken also, and laid in prison, where they remained till the death of queen Mary, and at last were delivered by our most gracious sovereign lady queen Elizabeth, whom the Lord grant long to reign among us, for his mercies’ sake, Amen.

    In the month of June came out a certain proclamation, short but sharp, from the king and the queen, against wholesome and godly books, which, under the false title of heresy and sedition, here in the said proclamations were wrongfully condemned.

    A PROCLAMATION BY THE KING AND QUEEN.

    Whereas divers books, filled both with heresy, sedition, and treason, have of late, and be daily brought into this realm out of foreign countries and places beyond the seas, and some also covertly printed within this realm, and east abroad in sundry parts thereof, whereby not only God is dishonored, but also an encouragement given to disobey lawful princes and governors: the king and queen’s majesties, for redress hereof, do by this their present proclamation declare and publish to all their subjects, that whosoever shall, after the proclaiming hereof, be found to have any of the said wicked and seditious books, or finding them, do not forthwith burn the same, without showing or reading the same to any other person, shall in that case be reputed and taken for a rebel, and shall without delay be executed for that offense, according to the order of martial law.

    Given at our manor of St. James’s, the 6th day of June.

    John Cawood, printer.

    THE ORDER AND OCCASION OF TAKING CERTAIN GODLY MEN AND WOMEN PRAYING TOGETHER IN FIELDS ABOUT ISLINGTON; OF WHOM THIRTEEN WERE CONDEMNED BY BONNER, AND AFTER, SUFFERED IN THE FIRE FOR THE TRUTH’S SAKE, AS IN THE STORY HERE FOLLOWING MAY APPEAR.

    Secretly, in a back close, in the field by the town of Islington, were collected and assembled together a certain company of godly and innocent persons, to the number of forty, men and women, who there sitting together at prayer, and virtuously occupied in the meditation of God’s holy word, first cometh a certain man to them unknown; who, looking over unto them, so stayed, and saluted them, saying, that they looked like men that meant no hurt. Then one of the said company asked the man, if he could tell whose close that was, and whether they might be so bold there to sit. “Yea,” said he, “for that ye seem unto me such persons as intend no harm;” and so departed. Within a quarter of an hour after, cometh the constable of Islington named King, warded with six or seven other, accompanying him in the same business, one with a bow, another with a bill, and others with their weapons likewise; the which six or seven persons the said constable left a little behind him in a close place, there to be ready if need should be, while he, with one with him, should go view them before; who; so doing, came through them, looking’ and viewing what they were doing, and what books they had; and so, going a little forward, and returning back again, bade them deliver their books. They, understanding that he was constable, refused not so to do. With that cometh forth the residue of his fellows above touched, who bade them stand, and not depart. They answered again, they would be obedient and ready to go whithersoever they would have them; and so were they first carried to a brewhouse but a little way off, while that some of the said soldiers ran to the justice next at hand: but the justice was not at home; whereupon they were had to sir Roger Cholmley. In the mean time some of the women, being of the same number of the foresaid forty persons, escaped away from them, some in the close, some before they came to the brewhouse. For so they were carried, ten with one man, eight with another; and with some more, with some less, in such sort as it was not hard for them to escape that would. In fine, they that were carried to sir Roger Cholmley, were twenty-seven; which sir Roger Cholmley and the recorder taking their names in a: bill, and calling them one by one, so many as answered to their names he sent to Newgate. In the which number of them that answered, and that were sent to Newgate, were twenty-and-two.

    These two-and-twenty were in the said prison of Newgate seven weeks before they were examined, to whom word was sent by Alexander the keeper, that if they would hear a mass, they should all be delivered. Of these foresaid two-and-twenty, were burnt thirteen; in Smithfield seven, at Brentford six.

    In prison two died in Whirsun-week, the names of whom were Matthew Wythers and T. Tylar.

    Seven of them which remained, escaped with their lives hardly, although not without much trouble, yet (as God would) without burning; whose names were these: John Milles, Thomas Hinshaw, R. Baily, woolpacker; Robert Willys, Hudleys, T. Coast, haberdasher; and Roger Sandy.

    The first seven were brought forth to examination before Bonner; and so having their condemnation, were burnt (as is said) in Smithfield. The other six followed not long after, and suffered at Brentford, whereof specially here followeth now in order of story to be seen.

    THE EXAMINATION AND CONDEMNATION OF SEVEN GODLY AND FAITHFUL MARTYRS OF CHRIST BURNT IN SMITHFIELD.

    Concerning the examination and condemnation of these abovesaid, which were apprehended and taken at Islington, seven were first produced before Bonner the 14th of June, to make answer to such articles and interrogatories as by the said bishop should be ministered unto them. The names of these seven were Henry Pond, Reinaid Eastland, Robert Southam, Matthew Ricarby, John Floyd, John Holiday, Roger Holland; and to these seven constant and godly martyrs, produced before Bonner, certain articles were ministered in this effect as followeth.

    ARTICLES MINISTERED TO THEM BY BISHOP BONNER.

    First , That ye, being within the city and diocese of London, have not, according to the common custom of the catholic church of this realm of England, come to your own parish church, nor yet to the cathedral church of this city and diocese of London, to hear devoutly and christianly the matins, the mass, the evensong, sung or said there in the Latin tongue, after the common usage and manner of the church of this realm. 2. That ye have not come to any of the said churches to pray, to go in procession, or to exercise yourselves there in godly and laudable exercises. 3. That you have not conformed yourselves duly to all the laudable customs, rites, and ceremonies of any the said churches. 4. Ye have not been confessed at due times and places to your own curate, of your sins. 5. Ye have not received at your said curate’s hands (as of the minister of Christ) absolution of your sins. 6. You have not at due times and places of your curate received reverently and duly the sacrament of the altar. 7. Ye have not faithfully and truly believed, that in the said sacrament of the altar, there is really and truly the very body and blood of Christ. 8. Ye have not by your mouth, nor otherwise by your deed, expressed or declared in any wise, that ye without wavering or doubting do think and believe, that the faith and religion now observed in the church of England, is a true faith and religion in all points. 9. Ye have not made any signification that you do indeed approve, or allow in any wise the common service in Latin, here observed and kept in the church of this realm of England. 10. Ye have not believed, nor do believe at this present, that the service in Latin, commonly used and observed in the church of this realm, is good and lawful, and not against the word of God. 11. Ye have in times past liked, allowed, and approved as good and godly, and so do like, allow, and approve at this present, the service in English, the Books of Common Prayer, the Books of Communion, the religion set forth and used in the time of king Edward the sixth; especially as it was set forth and used in the latter days of the said king Edward. 12. Ye have in times past been very desirous, and so are at this present, that the said English service, the said Book of Common Prayer, the said Book of Communion, and the said religion and faith so set forth and used in king Edward’s time, might now again be restored, set forth and used, and yourself freely at your liberty, without any restraint or lets to use it; and also in all points and things to do therein, as ye did, especially in the latter days of the said Edward the sixth. 13. Ye have of late been charitably sent to from me the bishop of London, and also by mouth exhorted, that whereas of late you did leave your churches, and went in the time of divine service into the fields and profane places, to read English Psalms, and certain English books, ye would leave off that; and, being out of prison, and at your liberty, come into your own parish churches, there to hear matins, mass, and evensong, after the common order of the churches of this realm; and to make due confession of your sins to your own curate, and receive at his hands (as of the minister of Christ, having therein sufficient authority), absolution of your sins; hear mass; receive the sacrament of the altar with a true faith, according to the belief of the catholic church; and observe all other the rites and customs of the said catholic church used in this realm of England, as well in going in procession after the cross, as also otherwise generally. 14. Ye, being so required, have refused and do refuse so to do, saying, amongst other vain and light words, that forsomuch as ye were imprisoned by the space of six weeks, not knowing wherewith ye were charged, your petition should be and was, that ye might first answer to your former cause, and then ye would be ready to answer me (the said bishop), to all that by me should be laid to your charge.

    Unto the which articles all the forenamed seven, only Reinald Eastland excepted, made answer in effect as hereafter followeth.

    ANSWERS OF THE FORENAMED PERSONS TO THE ARTICLES AFORESAID.

    To the first article they answered affirmatively; Roger Holland adding, that he came not to their Latin service these two years before.

    Matthew Ricarby added, that he came not to the church since Latin service was renewed, because it is against the word of God, and idolatry is committed in creeping to the cross.

    Henry Pond added, if he had license then to go to church, he would not.

    To the second they all answered affirmatively; Henry Pond adding as in the first article. John Floyd added, that the Latin service then used, was set up by man, and not by God; and this he learned (he said) in king Edward’s days, which he believed to be true. Robert Southam added, that he refused to come to church, because it is furnished with idols, and because the sacrament of the altar he believed to be an idol.

    To the third they all answered affirmatively: for they said, that the customs, rites, and ceremonies of the church then used, are not agreeable to God’s word.

    To the fourth and fifth they all answered affirmatively, adding, that they believed no priest hath power to remit sin.

    To the sixth a242 John Holiday, Henry Pond, add Robert Southam answered, that since the queen’s majesty’s reign: but Robert Southam added, not *he* for ten years before (*I mean* had received the sacrament of the altar), either at their curate’s hands, or any other priest. John Floyd, Matthew Ricarby, and Roger Holland answered affirmatively, adding in effect, that the sacrament of the altar is no sacrament approved by the word of God, etc.

    To the seventh, they all confessed the contents thereof to be true in every part; Henry Pond adding, that he knoweth not, nor believeth any such sacrament, called the sacrament of the altar; but confesseth the sacrament of the Lord’s supper, and believeth that to be approved. John Floyd added, that those that kneel to and worship the sacrament of the altar, commit idolatry, etc.

    To the eighth, ninth, and tenth, they all confessed the contents of those articles to be true. But John Holiday, Henry Pond, and John Floyd added, that they do allow the Latin service for them: that understand the same, so far as it agreeth with God’s word: for some part thereof is not agreeable to God’s word (they said); but to such as do not understand the said service in Latin, they do not allow it, for it doth not profit them. Robert Southam added and said, that it was a fond question to ask a simple man, whether the Latin service be good and lawful. Matthew Ricarby and Roger Holland denied the service in Latin to be good.

    To the eleventh, they all confessed the same to be true in every part; saving Henry Pond and Matthew Ricarby, who answered in effect, that they could not judge thereof, but leave them to be tried by the word of God.

    To the twelfth, they granted and confessed the same to be true, and desired of God that the service were in the English again.

    To the thirteenth , they all granted and confessed the same to be true.

    To the fourteenth article, they all granted and confessed the same to be true in every part.

    Thus have ye the answers of these men to the foresaid articles, save that Reinald Eastland, required to answer thereunto, refused so to do, alleging that he knoweth that to, end’ a strife an oath is lawful, but to. begin a strife an oath is not lawful; and therefore he now refuseth to take his oath in the beginning of this matter against him. Whereupon being charged by the bishop, he said for his not answering to the articles, he was content to stand unto the order of the law for his punishment, whatsoever it should be.

    The 17th day after of the said month of June, the said Eastland appeared again before the bishop, who, standing firm in that he had said before, denied to make any answer in that case, etc.; whereupon the said Eastland, with the other six, his fellow-prisoners, were assigned by the bishop to repair again to the same place at afternoon, who being there present in the foresaid consistory as they were commanded, and standing all together before the said bishop, he, beginning thus with them, asked them, if he had committed them to prison: they said, No; but master Cholmley and the recorder of London committed them to Newgate.

    Then being demanded further by the bishop, if he had done any thing or act to keep them in prison, or to hinder their liberty from prison; to this they answered, they could not tell. Then the foresaid articles being again reeked to them, all they answered and knowledged them to be the articles, and that they would stand to their answers made to the same. Whereupon the bishop, dissevering them apart one from another, proceeded with them severally, first beginning with Reinald Eastland, who there declared that he had been uncharitably handled and talked withal since his first imprisonment in that behalf. Then being required to reconcile himself again to the catholic faith, and go from his opinions, he said, that he knew nothing why he should recant; and therefore would not conform himself in that behalf. And so the sentence was read against him, and he given to the secular power etc.

    After him was called in John Holiday, who likewise being advertised to renounce his heresies (as they called them), and to return to the unity of their church, said, that he was no heretic, nor did hold any heresy, neither any opinion contrary to the catholic faith, and so would offer himself to be judged therein. Whereupon he likewise persisting in the same, the sentence was pronounced against him, condemning him to be burnt etc.

    Next to him was condemned, with the like sentence, Henry Pond, because he would not submit to the Romish church, saying to Bonner, that he had done or spoken nothing whereof he was or would be sorry; but that he did hold the truth of God, .and no heresy, etc.

    After whom next followed John Floyd, who likewise denied to be of the pope’s church, and said his mind of the Latin service, that the prayers made to saints are idolatry, and that the service in Latin is profitable to none, but only to such as understand the Latin. Moreover, being charged by Bonner of heresy, and saying, that whatsoever he and such others nowa- days do, all is heresy; for this he was condemned with the same butcherly sentence, and so by the secular power was sent away.

    Then Robert Southam, after him Matthew Ricarby, and last of all Roger Holland, were severally produced.

    Thus Roger Holland with his fellows (as ye heard) standing to their answers, and refusing to acknowledge the doctrine of the Romish church, were altogether condemned, the sentence being read against them; and so all seven, by secular magistrates being sent away to Newgate the 17th of June, not long after, about the 27th day of the said month, were had to Smithfield, and there ended their lives in the glorious cause of Christ’s gospel; whose particular examinations came not to our hands; saving only the examinations of Roger Holland, which here follow in order and manner as we received them by the information of certain who were present at the same.

    THE STORY OF ROGER HOLLAND, MARTYR.

    This Roger Holland, a merchant-tailor of London, was first an apprentice with one master Kempton, at the Black Boy in Watling-street, where he served his apprenticeship with much trouble unto his master in breaking him from his licentious liberty, which he had before been trained and brought up in, giving himself to riot, as dancing, fencing, gaming, banqueting, and wanton company; and besides all this, being a stubborn and an obstinate papist, far unlike to come to any such end. as God called him unto; the which was as followeth: - His master, notwithstanding this his lewdness, putting him in trust with his accounts, he had received for him certain money, to the sum of thirty pounds; and falling into ill company, lost the said money every groat at dice, being past all hope which way to answer it; and therefore he purposed to convey himself away beyond the seas, either into France or into Flanders.

    Now having determined with himself thus to do, he called betimes in the morning to a servant in the house, an ancient and discreet maid, whose name was Elizabeth, which professed the gospel, with a life agreeing unto the same, and at all times much rebuking the willful and obstinate papistry, as also the licentious living of this Roger Holland: to whom he said, “Elizabeth, I would I had followed thy gentle persuasions and friendly rebukes; which if I had done, I had never come to this shame and misery which I am now fallen into; for this night have I lost thirty pounds of my master’s money, which to pay him, and to make up mine accounts, I am not able. But thus much I pray you, desire my mistress, that she would entreat my master to take this bill of my hand, that I am thus much indebted unto him; and if I be ever able, I will see him paid: desiring him that the matter may pass with silence, and that none of my kindred nor friends may ever understand this my lewd part; for if it should come unto my father’s ears, it would bring his grey hairs oversoon unto his grave.”

    And so was he departing.

    The maid considering that it might be his utter undoing, “Stay,” said she; and having a piece of money lying by her, given unto her by the death of a kinsman of hers (who, as it was thought, was Dr. Redman), she brought unto him thirty pounds, saying, “Roger, here is thus much money; I will let thee have it, and I will keep this bill. But since I do thus much for thee, to help thee, and to save thy honesty, thou shalt promise me to refuse all lewd and wild company, all swearing and ribaldry talk; and if ever I know thee to play one twelve pence at either dice or cards, then will I show this thy bill unto my master. And furthermore, thou shalt promise me to resort every day to the lecture at All-hallows, and the sermon at Paul’s every Sunday, and to cast away all thy books of papistry and vain ballads, and get thee the Testament and Book of Service, and read the Scriptures with reverence and fear, calling unto God still, for his grace to direct thee in his truth. And pray unto God fervently, desiring him to pardon thy former offences, and not to remember the sins of thy youth; and ever be afraid to break his laws, or offend his Majesty. Then shall God keep thee, and send thee thy heart’s desire.”

    After this time, within one half year God had wrought such a change in this man, that he was become an earnest professor of the truth, and detested all papistry and evil company; so that he was in admiration to all them that had known him, and seen his former life and wickedness.

    Then he repaired into Lancashire unto his father, and brought divers good books with him, and bestowed them upon his friends, so that his father and others began to taste of the gospel, and to detest the mass, idolatry, and superstition; and in the end his father gave him a stock of money to begin the world withal, to the sum of fifty pounds.

    Then he repaired to London again, and came to the maid that lent him the money to pay his master withal, and said unto her, “Elizabeth, here is thy money I borrowed of thee; and for the friendship, good will, and the good counsel I have received at thy hands, to recompense thee I am not able, otherwise than to make thee my wife.” And soon after they were married, which was in the first year of queen Mary. And having a child by her, he caused master Rose to baptize his said child in his own house.

    Notwithstanding he was bewrayed unto the enemies, and he being gone into the country to convey the child away, that the papists should not have it in their anointing hands, Bonner caused his goods to be seized upon, and most cruelly used his wife.

    After this he remained closely in the city, and in the country in the congregations of the faithful, until the last year of queen Mary. Then he, with the six others aforesaid, were taken in, or not far from, St. John’s Wood, and so brought to Newgate upon May-day, in the morning, anno 1558.

    Then being called before the bishop, Dr. Chedsey, both the Harpsfields, and certain others, after many other fair and crafty persuasions of Dr.

    Chedsey, to allure him to their Babylonical church, thus the bishop began with him.

    THE FIRST EXAMINATION OF ROGER HOLLAND. “Holland, I for my part do wish well unto thee, and the more for thy friends’ sake. And, as Dr. Standish telleth me, you and he were both born in one parish, and he knoweth your father to be a very honest catholic gentleman. And master doctor told me, that he talked with you a year ago; and found you very willfully addict to your own conceit. Divers of the city also have showed me of you, that you have been a great procurer of men’s servants to be of your religion, and to come to your congregations. But since you be now in the danger of the law, I would wish you to play a wise man’s part; so shall you not want any favor I can do or procure for you, both for your own sake, and also for your friends’, which be men of worship and credit, and wish you well: and by my troth, Roger, so do I.”

    Then said master Eglestone, a gentleman of Lancashire, and near kinsman to Roger, being there present, “I thank your good lordship; your honor meaneth good unto my cousin; I beseech God he have the grace to follow your counsel.” Holland: — “Sir, you crave of God you know not what. I beseech God to open your eyes to see the light of his word.” Eglestone: — “Roger, hold your peace, lest you fare the worse at my lord’s hands.” Holland: — “No, I shall fare as it pleaseth God; for man can do no more than God doth permit him.”

    Then the bishop and the doctors, with Johnson the registrar, casting their heads together, in the end saith Johnson, “Roger, how sayest thou? wilt thou submit thyself unto my lord, before thou be entered into the book of contempt?” Holland: — “I never meant but to submit myself unto the magistrate, as I learn of St. Paul to the Romans, chap. 13.;” and so he reeked the text. Chedsey: — “Then I see you are no Anabaptist.” Holland: — “I mean not yet to be a papist; for they and the Anabaptists agree in this point, not to submit themselves to any other prince or magistrate, than those that must first be sworn to maintain them and their doings.” Chedsey: — “Roger, remember what I have said, and also what my lord hath promised he will perform with further friendship. Take heed, Roger, for your ripeness of wit hath brought you into these errors.” Holland: — “Master doctor, I have yet your words in memory, though they are of no such force to prevail with me.”

    Then they whispered together again, and at the last said Bonner, “Roger, I perceive thou wilt be ruled by no good counsel, for any thing that either I, or your friends, or any others can say. Holland: — “I may say to you, my lord, as Paul said to Felix and unto the Jews, as doth appear in Acts 22, and in 1 Corinthians 15. It is not unknown unto my master whom I was apprentice withal, that I was of this your blind religion that now is taught, and therein did obstinately and willfully remain, until the latter end of king Edward, in a manner; having that liberty under your auricular confession, that I made no conscience of sin, but trusted in the priest’s absolution, he for money doing some penance also for me, which after I had giver, I cared no further what offences I did, no more than he passed, after he had my money, whether he tasted bread and water for me, or no; so that lechery, swearing, and all other vices I accounted no offense of danger, so long as I could for money have them absolved. So straitly did I observe your rules of religion, that I would have ashes upon Ash Wednesday, though I had used never so much wickedness at night.

    And albeit I could not of conscience eat flesh upon the Friday, yet in swearing, drinking, or dicing all the night long, I made no conscience at all. And thus was I brought up, and herein have I continued till now of late, that God hath opened the light of his word, and called me by his grace to repentance of my former idolatry and wicked life: for in Lancashire their blindness and whoredom is overmuch more than may with chaste ears be heard. Yet these my friends which are not clear in these notable crimes, think the priest with his mass can save them, though they blaspheme God, and keep concubines besides their wives, as long as they live. Yea, I know some priests very devout, my lord, yet such as have six or seven children by four or five sundry women. “Master doctor, now to your antiquity, unity, and universality,” for these Dr. Chedsey alleged as notes and tokens of their religion, “I am unlearned. I have no sophistry to shift my reasons withal; but the truth I trust I have, which needeth no painted colors to set her forth. The antiquity of our church is not from pope Nicholas, or pope Joan; but our church is from the beginning, even from the time that God said unto Adam, that the Seed of the woman should break the serpent’s head; and so to faithful Noah; to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to whom it was promised, that their seed should multiply as the stars in the sky; and so to Moses, David, and all the holy fathers that were from the beginning, unto the birth of our Savior Christ. All they that believed these promises, were of the church, though the number were oftentimes but few and small; as in Elias’s days, when he thought there were none but he that had not bowed their knees to Baal, when God had reserved seven thousand that never had bowed their knees to that idol: as I trust there be seven hundred thousand more than I know of, that have not bowed their knees to the idol your mass, and your god Maozim; the upholding whereof is )’our bloody cruelty, whiles you daily persecute Elias and the servants of God, forcing them (as Daniel was in his chamber) closely to serve the Lord their God; and even as we by this your cruelty are forced in the fields to pray unto’ God, that his holy word may be once again truly preached amongst us, and that he would mitigate and shorten these idolatrous and bloody days, wherein all cruelty reigneth. Moreover, our church hath been the apostles and evangelists, the martyrs and confessors of Christ, that have at all times and in all ages been persecuted for the true testimony of the word of God. But for the upholding of your church and religion, what antiquity, can you show? Yea, the mass, that idol and chief pillar of your religion, is not yet four hundred years old; and some of your masses are younger, as that mass of St. Thomas Becket the traitor, wherein you pray that you may be saved by the blood of St. Thomas . a243 And as for your Latin service, what are we of the laity the better for it? I think he that should hear your priests mumble up their service, although he did well understand Latin, yet should he understand few words thereof; the priests do so champ them and chaw them, and post so fast, that neither they understand what they say, nor they that hear them; and in the mean time the people, when they should pray with the priest, are set to their beads to pray our lady’s psalter. So crafty is Satan to devise these his dreams (which you defend with faggot and fire) to quench the light of the word of God: which, as David saith, should be a Janthorn to our feet. And again, Wherein shall a young man direct his ways, but by the word of God? and vet you will hide it from us in a tongue unknown. St. Paul had rather in the church to have five words spoken with understanding, than ten thousand in an unknown tongue; and yet will you have your Latin service and praying in a strange tongue, whereof the people are utterly ignorant to be of such antiquity? “The Greek church, and a good part of Christendom besides, never received your service in an unknown tongue, but in their own natural language, which all the people understand; neither yet your transubstantiation, your receiving all alone, your purgatory, your images, etc. “As for the unity which is in your church, what is it else but treason, murder, poisoning one another, idolatry, superstition, wickedness? What unity was in your church, when there were three popes at once? a244 Where was your head of unity, when you had a woman-pope?”… Here he was interrupted, and could not be suffered to proceed; but, saith the bishop, “Roger, these thy words are very blasphemy, and by the means of thy friends thou hast been suffered to speak, and art over malapert to teach any here. Therefore, keeper, take him away.”

    THE SECOND EXAMINATION OF ROGER HOLLAND.

    The day that Henry Pond and the rest were brought forth to be again examined, Dr. Chedsey said, “Roger, I trust you have now better considered of the church than you did before.” Holland: — “I consider thus much: that out of the church there is no salvation, as divers ancient doctors say.” Bonner: — “That is well said. Master Egleston, I trust your kinsman will be a good catholic man. But Roger, you mean, I trust, the church of Rome?” Holland: — “I mean that church which hath Christ for her head; which also hath his word, and his sacraments according to his word and institution.”

    Then Chedsey interrupted him, and said, “Is that a Testament you have in your hand?” Holland: — “Yea, master doctor, it is the New Testament. You will find no fault with the translation, I think. It is of your own translation, it is according to the great Bible.” Bonner: — “How say you? How do you know it is the Testament of Christ, but only by the church? for the church of Rome hath and doth preserve it, and out of the same hath made decrees, ordinances, and true expositions.” “No,” saith Roger, “the church of Rome hath and doth suppress the reading of the Testament. And what a true exposition (I pray you) did the pope make thereof, when he set his foot on the emperor’s neck, and said, ‘Thou shalt walk upon the lion and the asp: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou tread under thy foot?” f406 Then said the bishop, “Such unlearned wild heads as thou and others, would be expositors of the Scripture. Would you then the ancient learned (as there be some here, as well as I) should be taught of you?” Holland: — “Youth delighteth in vanity. My wildness hath been somewhat the more by your doctrine, than ever I learned out of this book of God. But, my lord, I suppose some of the old doctors say f407 , If a poor layman bring his reason and argument out of the word of God, he is to be credited afore the learned, though they be never so great doctors: for the gift of knowledge was taken from the learned doctors, and given to poor fishermen. Notwithstanding I am ready to be instructed by the church.” Bonner: — “That is very well said, Roger: but you must understand that the church of Rome is the catholic church. Roger, for thy friends’ sake (I promise thee) I wish thee well, and I mean to do thee good. — Keeper! see he want nothing. Roger, if thou lack any money to pleasure thee, I will see thou shalt not want.”

    This he spoke unto him alone, his fellows being apart, with many other fair promises; and so he was sent to prison again.

    THE LAST EXAMINATION OF ROGER HOLLAND. [The last examination of Roger Holland was, when he with his fellow-prisoners were brought into the consistory, and there excommunicated all, saving Roger, and ready to have their sentence of judgment given, with many threatening words to fear them withal: the lord Strange, sir Thomas Jarpet, master Egleston esquire, and divers other of worship, both of Cheshire and Lancashire, that were Roger Holland’s kinsmen and friends, being there present, which had been earnest suitors to the bishop in his favor, hoping for his safety of life. Now the bishop, hoping yet to win him with his fair and flattering words, began after this manner:] Bonner: — “Roger, I have divers times called thee before home to my house, and have conferred with thee; and being not learned in the Latin tongue, it doth appear unto me thou art of a good memory, and of a very sensible talk, but something overhasty, which is a natural disease to some men. And surely they are not the worst natured men: for I myself shall now and then be hasty, but mine anger is soon past. So, Roger, surely I have a good opinion of you, that you will not with these lewd fellows cast yourself headlong from the church of your parents and your friends that are here (very good catholics, as it is reported unto me). And as I mean thee good, so, Roger, play the wise man’s part, and come home with the lost son, and say, ‘I have run into the church of schismatics; and heretics, from the catholic church of Rome;’ and you shall, I warrant you, not only find favor at God’s hands, but the church, that hath authority, shall absolve you, and put new garments upon you, and kill the fatling to make thee good cheer withal; that is, in so doing, as meat doth refresh and cherish the mind, so shalt thou find as much quietness of conscience in coming home to the church, as aid the hungry son that had been fed afore with the hogs, as you have done with these heretics that sever themselves from the church. I give them a homely name, but they he worse,” putting his hand to his cap for reverence sake, “than hogs: for they know the church, and will not follow it. If I should say thus much to a Turk, he would (I think) believe me. But, Roger, if I did not bear thee and thy friends good will, I would not have said so much as I have done, but I would have let mine ordinary alone with you.”

    At these words, his friends that were there gave the bishop thanks for his good will and pains that he had taken in his and their behalf. Bonner: — “Well, Roger, how say you now? Do you not believe that after the priest hath spoken the words of consecration, there remaineth the body of Christ really and corporally under the forms of bread and wine? I mean the selfsame body that was born of the Virgin Mary, that was crucified upon the cross, that rose again the third day.” Holland: — “Your lordship saith, the same body which was born of the Virgin Mary, which was crucified upon the cross, which rose again the third day: but you leave out, which ascended into heaven; and the Scripture saith, he shall there remain until he come to judge the quick and the dead! Then he is not contained under the forms of bread and wine, by ‘Hoc est corpus menro,’ etc. Bonner: — “Roger, I perceive my pains and good will will not prevail, and if I should argue with thee, thou art so willful (as all thy fellows be, standing in thine own singularity and foolish conceit), that thou wouldst still talk to no purpose this seven year, if thou mightest be suffered. Answer whether thou wilt confess the real and corporal presence of Christ’s body in the sacrament, or wilt not.” Holland: — “My lord, although God by his sufferance hath here placed you, to set forth his truth and glory in us his faithful servants; notwithstanding, your meaning is far from the zeal of Christ: and for all your words, you have the same zeal that Annas and Caiaphas had, trusting to their authority, traditions and ceremonies, more than to the word of God.” Bonner: — “If 1 should suffer him, he would fall from reasoning to railing, as a frantic heretic.” “Roger!” saith the lord Strange, “I perceive my lord would have you tell him whether you will submit yourself to him, or no.” “Yea,” saith Bonner, “and confess this presence that I have spoken of.” With this, Roger, turning him to the lord Strange and the rest of his kinsmen and friends, very cheerfully kneeled down upon his knees, and said, “God, by the mouth of his servant St. Paul hath said, ‘Let every soul submit himself unto the higher powers, and he that resisteth receiveth his own damnation:’ and as you are a magistrate appointed by the will of God, so do I submit myself unto you, and to all such as are appointed for magistrates.” Bonner: — “That is well said; I see you are no Anabaptist. How say you then to the presence of Christ’s body and blood in the sacrament of the altar?” Holland: — “I say, and beseech you all to mark and bear witness with me (for so you shall do before the judgment-seat of God), what I speak; for here is the conclusion: and ye, my dear friends (turning him to his kinsmen), I pray you show my father what I do say, that he may understand I am a christian man. I say and believe, and am therein fully persuaded by the Scriptures, that the sacrament of the supper of our Lord, ministered in the holy communion according to Christ’s institution, I being penitent and sorry for my sins, and minding to amend and lead a new life, and so coming worthily unto God’s board in perfect love and charity, do there receive by faith the body and blood of Christ. And though Christ in his human person sit at the right hand of his Father, yet (by faith, I say) his death, his passion, his merits are mine, and by faith I dwell in him, and he in me. And as for the mass, transubstantiation, and the worshipping of the sacrament, they are mere impiety and horrible idolatry.” “I thought so much,” said Bonner, suffering him to speak no more, “how he would prove a very blasphemous heretic as ever I heard.

    How unreverently doth he speak of the blessed mass!” And so read his bloody sentence of condemnation, adjudging him to be burnt.

    All this while Roger was very patient and quiet; and when he should depart, he said, “My lord, I beseech you suffer me to speak two words.”

    The bishop would not hear him, but bade him away. Notwithstanding, being requested by one of his friends, he said, “Speak, what hast thou to say?” Holland: — “Even now I told you that your authority was from God, and by his sufferance. And now I tell you, God hath heard the prayer of his servants, which hath been poured forth with tears for his afflicted saints, which daily you persecute, as now you do us. But this I dare be bold in God to speak (which by his Spirit I am moved to say), that God will shorten your hand of cruelty, that for a time you shall not molest his church. And this shall you in short time well perceive, my dear brethren, to be most true; for after this day, in this place, shall there not be any by him put to the trial of fire and faggot.”

    And after this day there was none that suffered in Smithfield for the testimony of the gospel, God be thanked.

    After these words spoken, said Bonner, “Roger, thou art, I perceive, as mad in these thy heresies as ever was Joan Boucher. In anger and fume thou wouldst become a railing prophet. Though thou and all the sort of you would see me hanged, yet I shall live to burn, yea I will burn all the sort of you that come in my hands, that will not worship the blessed sacrament of the altar, for all thy prattling.” And so he went his way.

    Then Roger Holland began to exhort his friends to repentance, and to think well of them that suffered for the testimony of the gospel; and with that the bishop came back, charging the keeper that no man should speak to them without his license; and if they did, they should be committed to prison. In the mean season Henry Pond and Roger spoke still unto the people, exhorting them to stand in the truth; adding moreover, that God would shorten these cruel and evil days for his elect’s sake.

    The day they suffered, a proclamation was made that none should be so bold to speak or talk any word unto them, or receive any thing of them, or to touch them upon pain of imprisonment, without either bail or mainprize; with divers other entel threatening words, contained in the same proclamation. Notwithstanding the people cried out, desiring God to strengthen them; and they, likewise, still prayed for the people, and the restoring of his word. At length Roger, embracing the stake and the reeds, said these words: “Lord, I most humbly thank thy Majesty, that thou hast called me from the state of death, unto the light of thy heavenly word, and now unto the fellowship of thy saints, that I may sing and say, ‘Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts!’ And Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit. Lord, bless these thy people, and save them from idolatry.”

    And so he ended his life, looking up into heaven, praying and praising God, with the rest of his fellow saints: for whose joyful constancy the Lord be praised!

    THE MARTYRDOM OF SIX WHICH SUFFERED AT BRENTFORD THE TRUE TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST.

    Not long after the death of the forenamed seven godly martyrs that suffered in Smithfield, were six other faithful witnesses of the Lord’s true testament, martyred at Brentford, seven miles from London, the 14th day of July, 1558; which said six were of that company that were apprehended in a close hard by Islington (as is above specified), and sent to prison; whose names and articles proponed to them, with their answers unto the same, hereafter follow: Robert Milles, Stephen Cotton, Robert Dynes, Stephen Wight, John Slade, and William Pikes, or Pikers, a tanner.

    These six forenamed martyrs, gentle reader, had their articles ministered to them by Thomas Darbyshire, Bonner’s chancellor, at sundry times; as Robert Milles the 20th day of June, Stephen Wight the 21st day of the said month; Stephen Cotton and John Slade the 22d day, and Robert Dynes and William Pikes the 23d day. At which said times, though they were severally examined, yet had they all one manner of articles ministered to them, yea and the selfsame articles that were ministered to John Holiday, Henry Pond, and their company aforesaid; which said articles I leave the reader to look for above in their story, and think it not necessary any more to rehearse them, but only to proceed with their answers to the same, which briefly and in sum hereafter follow.

    THE ANSWERS OF THE FORENAMED PERSONS TO THE ARTICLES AFORESAID.

    To the first article they all granted the same; and added thereto for going to church, that Robert Milles and Stephen Wight came not there for three quarters of a year before, and John Slade and William Pikes not since the queen’s reign, Stephen Cotton not for a twelvemonth before, and Robert Dynes not for two years before.

    The second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth, they all answered in effect, as the forenamed John Holiday, Henry Pond, and their company did, saving they added, that as their rites, customs, and ceremonies are against the word of God, so will they observe and keep no part of the same. Stephen Wight added further, that he received not their sacrament of the altar for two years before, nor John Slade and William Pikes since queen Mary’s reign, nor Stephen Cotton for a twelve months before, nor Robert Dynes for three years before. To the seventh, they all granted the same in every part like unto the afore- named Henry Pond and his company; saving that Robert Dynes added, that it was no part of his belief. To the eighth they all granted the same in every part, as the forenamed William Holiday and his company: but Robert Milles added thereto, that he will not come to church, nor allow their religion, so long as the cross is crept to, and worshipped, and images are in the church. John Slade affirmed in effect as Robert Milles did; adding further, that there be not seven sacraments, but two sacraments, which are baptism and the supper of the Lord.

    Steplien Cotton would no further allow the popish religion, than it agreeth with God’s word: and Robert Dynes affirmed in effect the like to Stephen Cotton also. To the ninth and tenth Robert Milles, John Slade, and Stephen Cotton answered, that they do not allow the popish service then set forth, because it is against the truth, and in a strange language which the common people understand not.

    Robert Dynes and William Pikes will neither allow nor disallow the Latin service, because they understand it not. And Stephen Wight would make no direct answer to the articles at all, and to the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth articles we find no answers recorded of the said Stephen Wight, but of the rest of his fellow-prisoners we find answers to those articles which hereafter follow.

    To the eleventh, Robert Milles, John Slade, and Stephen Cotton answered, that concerning the books, faith, and religion specified in this article, they do allow them so far forth, as they agree with God’s word, etc. Robert Dynes would make no answer thereto, because he thought himself unmeet to judge thereof: and William Pikes doth not remember that he hath misliked the service, and the faith and religion set forth in king Edward the sixth’s time.

    To the twelfth they grant, that if they might receive the sacrament as they did in king Edward the sixth’s days, they would with all their heart so do.

    To the thirteenth and fourteenth articles, they confess and grant the contents of them to be true in every part.

    When, at the days before specified, these good men were produced before Bonner’s chancellor, Thomas Darbyshire, and had the foresaid articles ministered, unto them, and they (as ye have heard) had made answer unto the same; in the end the chancellor commanded them to appear before him again the 11th day of July after, in the said place at Paul’s. Where when they came, he required of them, whether they would turn from their opinions to the mother holy church; and if not, that then, whether there were any cause to the contrary, but that he might proceed with the sentence of condemnation. Whereunto they all answered, that they would not go from the truth, nor relent from any part of the same while they lived.

    Then he charged them to appear before him again the next clay in the afternoon, between one and two of the clock, to hear the definitive sentence read against them, according to the ecclesiastical laws then in force. At which time, he sitting in judgment, talking with these godly and virtuous men, at last came into the said place sir Edward Hastings and sir Thomas Cornwallis, knights, two of queen Mary’s officers of her house; and being there, they sat them down over against the chancellor, in whose presence the said chancellor condemned those good poor lambs, and delivered them over to the secular power, who received and carried them to prison immediately, and there kept them in safety, till the day of their death.

    In the mean time this naughty chancellor slept not, I warrant you, but that day in which they were condemned, he made certificate into the lord chancellor’s office, from whence the next day after was sent a writ to burn them at Brentford a245 aforesaid, which accordingly was accomplished in the same place, the said 14th day of July; whereunto they being brought, made their humble prayers unto the Lord Jesus, undressed themselves, went joyfully to the stake (whereunto they were bound), and the fire flaming about them, they yielded their souls, bodies, and lives, into the hands of the omnipotent Lord, for whose cause they did suffer, and to whose protection I commend thee, gentle reader, Amen.

    Among these six was one William Pikes (as ye have heard), who sometime dwelt in Ipswich in Suffolk, by his occupation a tanner, a very honest godly man, and of a virtuous disposition, a good keeper of hospitality, and beneficial to the persecuted in queen Mary’s days. This said William Pikes, in the third year of queen Mary’s reign, a little after Midsummer, being then at liberty, went into his garden, and took with him a Bible of Rogers’s translation, where he, sitting with his face towards the south, reading on the said Bible, suddenly fell down upon his book, between eleven and twelve o’clock of the day, four drops of fresh blood, and he knew not from whence it came. Then he, seeing the same, was sore astonished, and could by no means learn (as I said) from whence it should fall: and wiping out one of the drops with his finger, he called his wife and said, “In the virtue of God, wife, what meaneth this? will the Lord have four sacrifices? I see well enough the Lord will have blood: his will be done, and give me grace to abide the trial! Wife, let us pray,” said he, “for I fear the day draweth nigh.” Afterward, he daily looked to be apprehended of the papists; and it came to pass accordingly, as ye have heard. Thus much thought I good to write thereof, to stir up our dull senses in considering the Lord’s works, and reverently to honor the same. His name there-for be praised for evermore ! Amen. *Here is to be noted by the way, amongst those that suffered at Braineforde, one there was of the said company, who, at their burning, desired of God some token to be given, whereby the people might know that they died in the right. After, coming to the place of execution, and being in the fire, there appeared in him that so prayed, in his breast, a marvelous white cross, as white as the paper; the breadth whereof extended from the one shoulder to the other, the length being as much as the breadth. The compass thereof in every place was as broad as a hand.

    This cross appeared so long till he fell down flat to the fire. Master Dean, aforesaid, did see it with his eyes; and he that saw, did justify it; and himself declared it to me with his own mouth, anno 1561, October 14th.* Moreover, concerning the said William Pikes, as he was in Newgate sore sick and at the point of death, so that no man looked he should live six hours, he declared to them that stood by, that he had been twice in persecution before, and that now he desired the Lord, if it were his will, that he might glorify his name at the stake; and so, as he prayed, it came to pass at Brentford.

    Ye heard before, that of those two-and-twenty taken at Islington, thirteen were burnt, and six escaped, albeit very hardly, and some of them not without scourging by the hands of the bishop; in the which number was Thomas Hinshaw and John Milles. *R. L. Quid raiseram laceras, quid virgis, turgide, torques?

    Facti nonne pudet, sanguinolente, tui?

    Insurgunt lapides: surgunt anitaalia quaeque Dentibus, O Bufo, to laniare suis.* EX EPIGRAMMATE ENNII APUD CICERONERO ALLUSIO. Si fas caedendo coelestia standere cuiquam est, Bonnero coeli maxima porta patet.

    In Efflgiem Bonneri Carmen.

    Quid nova forma viri, quid virga, quid ora, quid alvus, Pondera quid ventds, crassitiesque velit?

    Corpus amaxscum, distento abdomine pigrum, Rides anne stupes, lector amice, magis?

    Vasta quid ista velint si neseis pondera, dicam:

    Nam nihil hic mirum renter obesus habet.

    Carnibus humanis et sanguine veseitur atto, Tercentos annis hauserat ille tribus.

    Ergo quid hoe monstri est, recto vis norainc dicam?

    Nomen nee Matris, nee gerit ille Patris.

    Qui patre Savago natus a246, falsoque Bonems Dicitur: hunt melius dixeris Orbilium. f411 THE SAME IN ENGLISH. Muse not so much that nature’s work is thus deformed now, With belly blown, and head so swoln, for I shall tell you how:

    This cannibal, in three years’ space, three hundred martyrs slew; They were his food; he loved so blood, he spared none he knew.

    It should appear that blood feeds fat, if men lie well and soft; For Bonner’s belly waxt with blood, though he seemed to fast oft.

    O bloody beast! bewail the death of those that thou hast slain:

    In time repent, since thou canst not their lives restore again. *IN BONERUM. Magna fuit priscis muletaudi gloria noxas, Et disciplinae cura severa pim.

    Tempore defecit; quid non cariosa vetustas Carpit? et in pejus, quae viguere, Irahit?

    Nam pro supplieiis imitantia sacra Lupercos Sacrifici virga perficit uncta manus.

    Tam rigidos mores dura sic fiuxisse Bonems, Ille vetustatis cultor amansque, dolet; Jure Lupercorum lictoris fasce flagellum Murat, et antiqui signa rigoris amat.

    Nee tamen Orbilii prudens convitia pastor Sed neque plagosi crimina falsa timet.* IN BONERUM. Carnificis riomen debetur jure Bonero, Qui sine Christicolas erimine mactat oyes.

    Certe carnificis immiti riomine gaudet, Sique isto pejus riomine riomen, amat.

    Carnificem vocitas? ridet. Crudelia facta Narras? rem gratam non facis ipse minus.

    Det Deus ut sapias meliora, Bonere, vel istis Te fedant meritis munera digna precor.

    THE SCOURGING OF THOMAS HINSHAW.

    In the godly number above mentioned, which were apprehended at Islington, there congregated together, for their exercise of prayer and reading, was this Thomas Hinshaw above named, a young man of the age of nineteen or twenty years, prentice in Paul’s churchyard with one master Pugson , a247 who, with the rest, was carried to the constables of Islington, and there every one of them searched, and led forthwith to the chief justice master Cholmley, dwelling in the Old Bailey in London; and by him then the said Thomas Hinshaw was sent to Newgate, and there remaining prisoner without conference with any about eight weeks, at the last was sent for to Bonner, bishop of London, and by him, Harpsfield, and Cole, examined. After which examination he was sent to Newgate again, where he remained a three weeks a248 following; which time being *blowen over a249 *, he was sent for again before the said bishop, the day being Saturday, and with him had much talk to little purpose. The next day after also, which was Sunday, they persuaded with him very much in like manner, and perceiving they could not bend him unto their bow, in the afternoon the bishop, going unto Fulham, took him with him, where, immediately after his coming, he was set in the stocks, remaining there all the first night with bread and water. The next morning the bishop came and examined him himself, and perceiving no yielding to his mind, he sent master Harps field to talk with him; who, after long talk, in the end fell to raging words, calling the said Thomas Hinshaw “peevish boy,” and asked him whether he thought he went about to damn his soul, or no, etc.: unto which the said Thomas answered, that he was persuaded that they labored to maintain their dark and devilish kingdom, and not for any love to truth.

    Then Harpsfield, being in a mighty rage, told the bishop thereof; whereat the bishop fumed and fretted, that scant for anger being able to speak, he said, “Dost thou answer my archdeacon so, thou naughty boy? I shall handle thee well enough, be assured.” So he sent for a couple of rods and caused him to kneel against a long bench in an arbor in his garden, where the said Thomas, without any enforcement of his part, offered himself to the beating, and did abide the fury of the said Bonner, so long as the fatpaunched bishop could endure with breath, and till for weariness he was fain to cease, and give place to his shameful act. He had two willow rods, but he wasted but one, and so left off. f413 Now after this scourging the said Thomas Hinshaw notwithstanding did sustain divers conflicts and examinations sundry times. At last, being brought before the said bishop in his chapel at Fulham, there he had procured witnesses, and gathered articles against him, which the young man denied, and would not affirm, or consent to any interrogatory there and then ministered, do what they could; the articles were these.

    ARTICLES OBJECTED.

    Concerning palms, ashes, holy bread, holy water, auricular confession, receiving the sacrament at Easter, hearing divine service then set forth, etc.

    Whether he had received all these, or whether he would receive them or no. Item, What he thought of the service set forth in king Edward’s time, in his latter days; and, in especial, what he thought of the verity of Christ’s body in the sacrament. In all which his answers, the said Thomas Hinshaw kept an upright conscience, and entangled himself with none of their ceremonies, so merciful was the Lord unto him.

    Not long after this his examination (about a fortnight or such a thing), the foresaid examinate fell sick of a burning ague, whereby he was delivered upon entreaty unto his master Martin Pugson, in Paul’s churchyard aforesaid; for the bishop thought verily he was more likely to die, than to live. The which his sickness endured a twelvemonth or more, so that in the mean time queen Mary died. Then he, shortly after, recovered health, and escaped death, being at the writing of this yet alive, both witness and reporter of the same; the Lord therefor be praised! Amen.

    THE SCOURGING OF JOHN MILLES BY BISHOP BONNER.

    Besides the above named, was scourged also by the hands of the said Bonner, one John Milles a capper, a right faithful and true honest man in all his dealings and conditions; who was brother to the foresaid R. Milles, burnt before at Brentford, as is above signified: who also was apprehended in the same number with them at Islington, as is mentioned also before; and being brought before Bonner, and there examined, was commanded to the coalhouse, with the foresaid Thomas Hinshaw, where they remained one night in the stocks. From thence he was sent to Fulham, where he, with the said Hinshaw, remained eight or ten days in the stocks, during which time he sustained divers conflicts with the said Bonner, who had him oftentimes in examination, urging him, and, with a stick which he had in his hand, ofttimes rapping him on the head, and flirting him under the chin, and on the ears, saying, he looked down like a thief. Moreover, after he had assayed all manner of ways to cause him to recant, and could not, at length having him to his orchard, there within a little arbor, with his own hands he beat him first with a willow-rod; and that being worn well nigh to the stumps, he called for a birchen rod, which a lad brought out of his chamber.

    The cause why he so beat him was this: Bonner asked him when he had crept to the cross. He answered, not since he came to the years of discretion, neither would, though he should be torn with wild horses. Then Bonner bade him make a cross in his forehead, which he refused to do; whereupon he had him incontinently to his orchard, and there calling for rods, showed his cruelty upon him, as he did upon Thomas Hinshaw, as is above declared.

    This done, he had him immediately to the parish church of Fulham with the said Thomas Hinshaw and with Robert Willis, a250 to whom, there being severally called before him, he ministered certain articles, asking if he would subscribe to the same: to the which the said John Milles made his answer according to his conscience, denying them all, except; one article, which was concerning, king Edwardservice in English. Shortly after this beating, Bonner sent to him in prison a certain old priest lately come from Rome, to conjure out the evil spirit from him, who laying his hand upon his head, began with certain words pronounced over him, to conjure as he had been wont before to do. Milles, marveling what the priest was about to do, said, he trusted no evil spirit to be within him; and laughed him to scorn, etc.

    As this John Milles was divers times and oft called before Bonner, so much communication and talk passed between them; which to recite all, it were too long. And yet it were not unpleasant for the reader that lusteth to laugh, to see the blind and unsavory reasons of that bishop, which he used to persuade the ignorant withal. As in the process of his other talk with this Milles, Bonner, going about to persuade him not to meddle with matters of the Scripture, but rather to believe other men’s teaching, which had more skill in the same, first asked if he did believe the Scripture. “Yea,” said Milles, “that I do.”

    Then the bishop: “Why,” quoth he, “St. Paul saith, ‘If the man sleep, the woman is at liberty to go to another man.’ If thou wert asleep, having a wife, wouldest thou be content thy wife to take another man? and yet this is the Scripture. Item, If thou wilt believe Luther, Zuinglius, and such, then thou canst not go right.

    But if thou wilt believe me, etc., thou canst not err. And if thou shouldst err, yet thou art in no peril: thy blood should be required at our hands. As if thou shouldst go to a far country, and meet with a fatherly man, as I am” (for these were his terms), “and ask the way to the head city, and he should say, ‘Go this way;’ and thou wilt not believe him, but follow Luther, and other heretics of late days, and go a contrary way; how wilt thou come to the place thou askest for? So, if thou wilt not believe me, but follow the leading of other heretics, so shalt thou be brought to destruction, and burn both body and soul. As truly as thou seest the bodies of them in Smithfield burnt, so truly their souls do burn in hell, because they err from the true church.”

    Oftentimes speaking to the said John Milles, he would say, “They call me bloody Bonner. A vengeance on you all ! I would fain be rid of you, but you have a delight in burning. But if I might have my will, I would sew your mouths, and put you in sacks and drown you.”

    Now somewhat to say concerning the deliverance of the said John Milles.

    The same day that he was delivered, Bonner came unto the stocks where he lay, and asked him how he liked his lodging, and his fare. “Well,” said Milles, “if it would please God I might have a little straw to lie or sit upon.”

    Then said Bonner, “Thou wilt show no token of a christian man.” And upon this his wife came in, unknown unto him, being very great with child, and looking every hour for her lying down, entreating the bishop for her husband, and saying, that she would not go out of the house, but there would lay herself in the bishop’s house, unless she had her husband with her. “How sayest thou,” quoth Bonner, “thou heretic? If thy wife miscarry, or thy child, or children, if she be with one or two, should perish, the blood of them would be required at thy hands.” Then to this agreement he came, that *she* should hire a bed in the town of Fulham, and her husband should go home with her the morrow after, upon this condition, that his kinsman there present (one Robert Rouse) should bring the said Milles unto his house at Paul’s the next day. Whereunto the said Milles said, he would not agree, except he might go home by and by. At length his wife being importunate for her husband, and seeing that she would go no further, but there remain, unless she had her husband with her, the bishop, fearing belike the rumor which might come upon his house thereby, bade the said Milles make a cross, and say, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.”

    Then the said Milles began to say, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.” “No, no,” saith Bonner, “say it me in Latin, ‘ In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen.’“ Milles, understanding the matter of that Latin to be but good, said the same, a251 and so went home with his wife, his foresaid kinsman being charged to bring him the next day unto Paul’s: “else,” said Bonner, “if thou dost not bring him, thou art a heretic, as well as he.” Notwithstanding, the charge being no greater, his kinsman did not bring him, but he of his own voluntary accord came to the said bishop within a few days after, where the bishop put unto him a certain writing in Latin to subscribe unto, containing (as it seemed to him) no great matter that he needed greatly to stick at; albeit, what the bill was, he could not certainly tell: so subscribed he to the bill, and returned home. And thus much concerning the twentytwo taken at Islington.

    THE STORY AND CRUEL HANDLING OF RICHARD YEOMAN, DOCTOR TAYLOR’S CURATE AT HADLEY, CONSTANTLY SUFFERING FOR THE GOSPEL’S SAKE, JULY 10TH.

    After the story of these twenty-two taken at Islington, proceeding now (the Lord willing), we will prosecute likewise the taking and cruel handling of Richard Yeoman, minister; which Yeoman had been, before, Dr.

    Taylor’s curate, a godly devout old man of seventy years, which had many years dwelt in Hadley, well seen in the Scriptures, and giving godly exhortations to the people. With him Dr. Taylor left his cure at his departure: but as soon as master Newall had gotten the benefice, he drove away good Yeoman, as is before said, and set in a popish curate to maintain and continue their Romish religion, which now they thought fully established. Then wandered he long time from place to place, moving and exhorting all men to stand faithfully’ by God’s word, earnestly to give themselves unto prayer, with patience to bear the cross now laid upon them for their trial, with boldness to confess the truth before the adversaries, and with an undoubted hope lo wait for the crown and reward of eternal felicity. But when he perceived his adversaries to lie in wait for him, he went into Kent, and with a little packet of laces, pins, and points, and such like things, he traveled from village to village, selling such things; and by that poor shift got himself somewhat to the sustaining of himself, his poor wife, and children.

    At the last a justice of Kent, called master Moyle, took poor Yeoman, and set him in the stocks a day and a night; but having no evident matter to charge him with, he let him go again. So came he secretly again to Hadley, and tarried with his poor wife, who kept him secretly in a chamber of the town-house, commonly called the Guildhall, more than a year; all the which time the good old father abode in a chamber, locked up all the day, and spent his time in devout prayer, and reading the Scriptures, and in carding of wool, which his wife (lid spin. His wife also did go and beg bread and meat for herself and her children, and by such poor means sustained they themselves. Thus the saints of God sustained hunger and misery, while the prophets of Baal lived in jollity, and were costly pampered at Jezebel’s table.

    At the last parson Newall (I know not by what means) perceived that Richard Yeoman was so kept by his poor wife, and, taking with him the bailiff’s deputies and servants, came in the night-time, and brake up five doors upon Yeoman, whom he found in a bed with his poor wife: and children: whom when he had so found, he irefully cried, saying, “I thought I should find a harlot and a whore together.” And he would have plucked the clothes off from them; but Yeoman held fast the clothes, and said unto his wife, “Wife, arise, and put on thy clothes.” And unto the parson he said, “Nay parson, no harlot, nor whore, but a married man and his wife, according unto God’s ordinance; and blessed be God for lawful matrimony.

    I thank God for this great grace, and I defy the pope and all his popery.”

    Then led they Richard Yeoman unto the cage, and set him in the stocks until it was day.

    There was then also in the cage an old man named John Dale, who had sitten there three or four days, because when the said parson Newall with his curate executed the Romish service in the church, he spoke openly unto him, and said, “O miserable and blind guides, will ye ever be blind leaders of the blind? will ye never amend? will ye never see the truth of God’s word? will neither God’s threats nor promises enter into your hearts? will the blood of martyrs nothing mollify your stony stomach? O indurate, hard-hearted, perverse, and crooked generation! O damnable sort, whom nothing can do good unto!”

    These and like words he spoke in ferventness of spirit against the superstitious religion of Rome. Wherefore, parson Newall caused him forthwith to be attached, and set in the stocks in the cage. So was he there kept till sir Henry Doyle, a justice, came to Hadley.

    Now when poor Yeoman was taken, the parson called earnestly upon sir Henry Doyle to send them both to prison. Sir Henry Doyle earnestly labored and entreated the parson, to consider the age of the men, and their poor estate: they were persons of no reputation, nor preachers; wherefore he would desire him to let them be punished a day or two, and so to let them go — at the least John Dale, who was no priest; and therefore, seeing he had so long sitten in the cage, he thought it punishment enough for this time. When the parson heard this, he was exceeding mad, and in a great rage called them pestilent heretics, unfit to live in the commonwealth of Christians. “Wherefore, I beseech you, sir,” quoth he, “according to your office, defend holy church, and help to suppress these sects of heresies, which are false to God, and thus boldly set themselves, to the evil example of others, against the queen gracious proceedings. Sir Henry Doyle, seeing he could do no good in the matter, and fearing also his peril, if he should too much meddle in this matter, made out the writ, and caused the constables to carry them forth to Bury gaol. For now were all the justices, were they never so mighty, afraid of every shaven crown, and stood in as much awe of them, as Pilate did stand in fear of Annas and Caiaphas, and of the Pharisaical brood, which cried, “Crucify him, Crucify him! If thou let him go, thou art not Caesar’s friend.” Wherefore, whatsoever their consciences were, yet, if they would escape danger, they must needs be the popish bishop’s slaves and vassals . a252 So they took Richard Yeoman and John Dale, pinioned; and bound them like thieves, set them on horseback, and bound their legs under the horses’ bellies, and so carried them to the gaol at Bury, where they were tied in irons; and for that they continually rebuked popery, they were thrown into the lowest dungeon, where John Dale, through sickness of the prison, and evil keeping, died in prison, whose body, when he was dead, was thrown out and buried in the fields. He was a man of forty-six years of age, a weaver by his occupation, well learned in the holy Scriptures, faithful and honest in all his conversation, steadfast in confession of the true doctrine of Christ set forth in king Edward’s time; for the which he joyfully suffered prison and chains, and from this worldly dungeon he departed in Christ to eternal glory, and the blessed paradise of everlasting felicity.

    After that John Dale was dead, Richard Yeoman was removed to Norwich prison, where, after strait and evil keeping, he was examined of his faith and religion. Then he boldly and constantly confessed himself to be of the faith and confession that was set forth by the ]ate king of blessed memory, holy king Edward the sixth; and from that he would in no wise vary. Being required to submit himself to the holy father the pope, “I defy him,” quoth he, “and all his detestable abominations: I will in no wise have to do with him, nor any thing that appertaineth to him.” The chief articles objected to him, were his marriage, and the mass-sacrifice. Wherefore when he continued steadfast in confession of the truth, he was condemned, disgraded, and not only burnt, but most cruelly tormented in the fire. So ended he his poor and miserable life, and entered into the blessed bosom of Abraham, enjoying with Lazarus the comfortable quietness that God hath prepared for his elect saints.

    THE STORY OF JOHN ALCOCK. a253 There was also in Hadley a young man, named John Alcock, which came to Hadley seeking work, for he was a shearman by his occupation. This young man after the martyrdom of Dr. Taylor, and taking of Richard Yeoman, used first in the church of Hadley to read the service in English, as partly is above touched.

    At length, after the coming of parson Newall, he, being in Hadley church upon a Sunday, when the parson came by with procession, would not once move his cap, nor show any sign of reverence, but stood behind the font. Newall, perceiving this, when he was almost out of the church door, ran back again, and caught him, and called for the constable.

    Then came Robert Rolfe, with whom this young man wrought, and asked, “Master parson! what hath he done, that ye are in such a rage with him?” “He is a heretic and a traitor,” quoth the parson, “and despiseth the queen’s proceedings. Wherefore I command you, in the queen’s name, have him to the stocks, and see he be forthcoming,. Well,” quoth Rolfe, “he shall be forthcoming: proceed you in your business, and be quiet.” “Have him to the stocks,” quoth the parson. “I am constable,” quoth Rolfe, “and may bail him, and will bail him; he shall not come in the stocks, but he shall be forthcoming.” So went the good parson forth with his holy procession, and so to mass.

    At afternoon Rolfe said to this young man, “I am sorry for thee, for truly the parson will seek thy destruction, if thou take not good heed what thou answerest him.” the young man answered, “Sir, I am sorry that it is my hap to be a trouble to you. As for myself, I am not sorry, but I do commit myself into God’s hands, and I trust he will give me mouth and wisdom to answer according to right.” “Well,” quoth Rolfe, “yet beware of him; for he is malicious and a blood-sucker, and beareth an old hatred against me; and he will handle you the more cruelly, because of displeasure against me.” “I fear not,” quoth the young man. “He shall do no more to me, than God will give him leave; and happy shall I be, if God will call me to die for his truth’s sake.”

    After this talk, they then went to the parson, who at the first asked him, “Fellow, what sayest thou to the sacrament of the altar?” “I say,” quoth he, “as ye use the matter, ye make a shameful idol of it, and ye are false idolatrous priests all the sort of you.” “I told you,” quoth the parson, “he was a stout heretic.”

    So after long talk, the parson committed him to ward, and the next day rode he up to London, and carried the young man with him, and so came the young man no more again to Hadley, but, after long imprisonment in Newgate, where, after many examinations and troubles, for that he would not submit himself to ask forgiveness of the pope, and to be reconciled to the Romish religion, he was east into the lower dungeon, where with evil keeping and sickness of the house, he died in prison. Thus died he a martyr for Christ’s verity, which he heartily loved and constantly confessed, and received the garland of a well-foughten battle at the hand of the Lord. His body was east out, and buried in a dunghill; ‘for the papists would in all things be like themselves. Therefore would they not so much as suffer the dead bodies to have honest and convenient sepulture. a254 THE STORY OF THOMAS BENBRIDGE, GENTLEMAN AND MARTYR, WRONGFULLY CONDEMNED AND PUT TO DEATH BY THE CRUEL PAPISTS, FOR THE DEFENCE OF THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST JESUS.

    Thomas Benbridge a gentleman, single and unmarried, in the diocese of Winchester, although he might have lived a pleasant and a gentleman’s life in the wealthy possessions of this world, yet to follow Christ had rather enter into the strait gate of persecution, to the heavenly possession of life in the Lord’s kingdom, than here to enjoy pleasures present, with unquietness of conscience. Wherefore manfully standing against the papists for the defense of the sincere doctrine of Christ’s gospel, he spared not himself to confirm the doe-trine of the gospel. For the which cause he being apprehended for an adversary of the Romish religion , a255 was forthwith had to examination before Dr. White, bishop of Winchester, where he sustained sundry conflicts for the truth, against the said bishop and his colleagues. The articles of the bishop ministered to him, with his answers to the same annexed, be here following.

    ARTICLES MINISTERED TO MASTER BENBRIDGE, WITH HIS ANSWERS FOLLOWING THE SAME.

    First , We articulate against you, that the church of God ministereth rightly, according to the rite apostolical.

    To this he answered, that baptism is not administered at this present, so as it was in the apostles’ time, for that it is not ministered in the English tongue. 2. “Item, We articulate that the church of God doth believe, and hold, that in the sacrament of thanksgiving, after the words of consecration pronounced of the priest, the true and natural body of Christ is present really.”

    He answered, that he believeth not that in the sacrament is contained the body and blood of our Savior Jesus Christ, saying, “This is the mark that ye shoot at.” 3. “Item, We articulate that the church holdeth and believeth, that confirmation is a sacrament in the church, and that by imposition of hands of a bishop, cometh grace.”

    He answered, that he knoweth not whether that confirmation be a sacrament or not, and whether the bishop giveth grace or not; he knoweth not the order and fashion of ministration. 4. “Item, We articulate that penance is a sacrament in the church, and that by auricular confession and absolution, pronounced by the priest, sins be forgiven.”

    He answered negatively, denying sins to be forgiven by absolution pronounced of a priest; and that it is not necessary for a man to recite all his sins to a priest. 5. “Item, We articulate against thee, that the church doth believe and hold the same authority to be now in the church, which Christ gave to his apostles.”

    He answered negatively, for that the church hath not the same power and strength to work. 6. “Item, We articulate that the church believeth and holdeth, that the order of ministers, now being in the church of Christ, is instituted of Christ himself.”

    He answered, he believed not the bishops to be the successors of the apostles, for that they be not called as they were, nor have that grace. 7. “Item, We articulate that the church believeth and holdeth the pope to: be supreme head in the church, and the vicar of Christ in earth.”

    He answered, that it is not the pope, but it is the devil, that is supreme head of the church which you speak of. 8. “Item, We articulate that the church doth hold and believe that it is: necessary to be baptized.”

    He denied not the same. 9. “Item, We articulate that the church doth hold and believe that there is: purgatory, and that the souls of the dead be relieved with the alms and prayers of the living.”

    He answered and saith, as touching purgatory, he will not believe as their church doth believe. 10. “Item, We articulate that the church holdeth and believeth that matrimony is a sacrament of the church.”

    He answered, that he will not say that matrimony is a sacrament, but to be a sacred order and sign of a holy thing, etc.

    Moreover, happening into the mention of Martin Luther, he said, that the said Martin Luther died a good christian man, whose doctrine and life he did approve and allow.

    Thus have ye the articles ministered by the bishop, and also the answers of the said Master Benbridge unto the same, for the which he was then condemned, and after brought to the place of martyrdom by the sheriff, called sir Richard Pecksal; where he, standing at the stake, began to untie his points, and to prepare himself. Then he gave his gown to the keeper, being belike his fee. His jerkin was laid on with gold lace, fair and brave, which he gave to sir Richard Pecksal the high sheriff. His cap of velvet he took off from his head, and threw it away. Then lifting his mind to the Lord, he made his prayers.

    That done, being now fastened to the stake, Dr. Seaton willed him to recant, and he should have his pardon. But when he saw it prevailed not to speak, the said dreaming and doltish doctor willed the people not to pray for him unless he would recant, no more than they would pray for a dog.

    Master Benbridge, standing at the stake with his hands together in such manner as the priest holdeth his hands in his memento, the said Dr. Seaton came to him again, and exhorted him to recant: unto whom he said, “Away, Babylonian, away !”

    Then said one that stood by, “Sir, cut out his tongue;” and another, being a temporal man, railed on him worse than Dr. Seaton did a great deal, who, as is thought, was set on by some other.

    Then when they saw he would not yield, they bade the tormentors to set to fire’; and yet he was nothing like covered with faggots. First, the fire took away a piece of his beard, whereat he nothing shrank at, all. Then it came on the other side, and took his legs; and the nether stockings of his hose being leather, made the fire to pierce the: sharper, so that the intolerable heat thereof made him to cry, “I recant.” And suddenly therewith he thrust the fire from him; and having two or three of his friends by, that wished his life, they stept to the fire, and holpe to take it from him also; who for their labor were sent to prison. The sheriff also of his own authority took him from the stake, and sent him to prison again, for the which he was sent unto the Fleet, and there lay a certain time. But before he was taken from the stake, the said Seaton wrote articles to have him to subscribe unto them, as touching the pope, the sacrament, and such other trash. But the said master Benbridge made much ado or he would subscribe them, insomuch that Dr. Seaton willed them to set to fire again.

    Then with much pain and grief of heart he subscribed to them upon a man’s back. That being done, he had his gown given him again, and so was led to prison. Being in prison he wrote a letter to Dr. Seaton, and recanted those words he spoke at the stake, unto which he had subscribed; for he was grieved that ever he did subscribe unto them. Whereupon expressing his conscience, he was, the same day seven-night after, burnt indeed, where the vile tormentors did rather broil him than burn him. The Lord give his enemies repentance!

    THE UNJUST EXECUTION AND MARTYRDOM OF FOUR, BURNT AT ST. EDMUND’S BURY.

    In this year aforesaid, which was the last of queen Mary’s reign, Dr.

    Hopton being bishop of Norwich, and Dr. Spenser bearing the room of his chancellor, about St. James’s tide, at St. Edmund’s Bury, were wrongfully put to death four christian martyrs, to wit, John Cooke, a sawyer; Robert Miles, alias Plummer, a shearman; Alexander Lane, a wheelwright; and James Ashley, bachelor.

    The examination of these forenamed persons, being severally called before the bishop of Norwich, and sir Edward Walgrave, with others, was partly upon these articles following.

    First, sir Edward Walgrave called John Cooke to him, and said, “How fortuneth it, that you go net to church?”

    John Cooke said, “I have been there.”

    Sir Edward said, “What is the cause that you go not thither now, in these days?”

    John Cooke said, “Because the sacrament of the altar is an abominable idol, and,” saith he, “the vengeance of God will come upon all them that do maintain it.”

    Sir Edward said,” O thou rank traitor ! if I had as good commission to cut out thy tongue, as I have to sit here this day, thou shouldst be sure to have it cut out.”

    Then commanded he the constable to have him away, saying, he was both a traitor and a rebel.

    Then he called Robert Miles, and said, “How fortuneth it, that you go not to the church?”

    Robert Miles answered, “Because I will follow no false gods.”

    Then said the bishop, “Who told thee that it is a god?” Then said Miles, “Even you, and such as you are.”

    Then the bishop commanded him aside, and to appear before him the next day.

    Then he called Alexander Lane before him, and asked him, how it chanced, that he would not go to the church?

    He said, that his conscience would not serve him so to do.

    Then sir Edward said, “How dost thou believe?”

    Then said Lane, “Even as it is written in God’s book.”

    Then sir Edward commanded him to say his belief.

    Then the said Lane being somewhat abashed, said his belief to these words, which he missed unawares, “Born of the virgin Mary.”

    Then sir Edward said, “What! was he not born of the virgin Mary?” “Yes,” said Lane, “I would have said so.” “Nay,” said sir Edward, “you are one of Cooke’s scholars!” And so commanded him away, and to come before him the next day.

    After the like manner they passed also with James Ashley, whom they warned the next day likewise to appear before them again. So in fine they, appearing again, had their condemnation. And thus these four blessed martyrs. and servants of Christ innocently suffered together at St. Edmund’s Bury, as is aforesaid, about the beginning of August, not long before the sickness of queen Mary.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF *SAUNDER a256 * GOUCH AND ALICE DRIVER, TWO GODLY PERSONS SUFFERING AT IPSWICH FOR THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST, AND HIS EVERLASTING TESTAMENT.

    Master Noone, a justice in Suffolk, dwelling in Marriesham, hunting after good men to apprehend them (as he was a bloody tyrant in the days of trial), at the length had understanding of one Gouch of Woodbridge, and Driver’s wife of Grundisburgh, to be at Grundisburgh together, a little from his house; and immediately took his men with him, and went thither, and made diligent search for them, where the poor man and woman were compelled to step into an hay-golph, to hide themselves from their cruelty.

    At the last they came to search the hay for them, and by gauging thereof with pitchforks, at [he last found them: so they took them and led them to Melton gaol, where they, remaining a time, at the length were carried to Bury, against the assize at St. James’s tide; and being there examined of matters of faith, did boldly stand to confess Christ crucified, defying the pope with all his papistical trash. And among other things Driver’s wife *likening* a257 queen Mary in her persecution to Jezebel, and so in that sense calling her Jezebel, for that, sir Clement Higham, being chief judge there, adjudged her ears immediately to be cut off, which was accomplished accordingly, and she joyfully yielded herself to the punishment, and thought herself happy that she was counted worthy to suffer any thing for the name of Christ.

    After the assize at Bury, they were carried to Melton gaol again, where they remained a time. This *Saunder* Gouch was a man of the age of thirty-six years, or thereabouts, and by his occupation was a weaver of shredding-coverlets, dwelling at Woodbridge in Suffolk, and born at Ufford in the same county. Driver’s wife was a woman about the age of thirty years, and dwelt at Grundisburgh, where they were taken, in Suffolk: her husband did use husbandry. These two were carried from Melton gaol to Ipswich, where they remained and were examined; the which their examination, as it came to our hands, hereafter followeth.

    THE EXAMINATION OF DRIVER’S WIFE BEFORE DR. SPENSER f416 THE CHANCELLOR OF NORWICH, AND DR. GASCOINE. A258 First, she coming into the place where she should be examined with a smiling countenance, Dr. Spenser said, “Why, woman, dost thou laugh us to scorn?” Driver: — “Whether I do or no, I might well enough, to see what fools ye be.”

    Then the chancellor asked her wherefore she was brought before him, and why she was laid in prison. f417 Driver: — “Wherefore? I think I need not tell you; for ye know it better than I.” Spenser: — “No, by my troth, woman, I know not why.” “Then have ye done me much wrong,” quoth she, “thus to imprison me. and know no cause why: for I know no evil that I have done, I thank God, and I hope there is no man that can accuse me of any notorious fact that I have done, justly.” Spenser: — “Woman, woman, what sayest thou to the blessed sacrament of the altar? dost thou not believe that it is very flesh and blood, after the words be spoken of consecration?”

    Driver’s wife at those words held her peace, and made no answer.

    Then a great chuff-headed priest that stood by spoke, and asked her, why she made not the chancellor an answer. With that, the said Driver’s wife looked upon him austerely, and said, “Why, priest, I come not to talk with thee, but I come to talk with thy master: but, if thou wilt I shall talk with thee, command thy master to hold his peace. And with that the priest put his nose in his cap, and spoke never a word more. Then the chancellor bid her make answer to that he demanded of her. “Sir,” said she, “pardon me though I make no answer, for I cannot tell what you mean thereby: for in all my life I never heard nor read of any such sacrament in all the Scripture.” Spenser: — “Why, what Scriptures have you read, I pray you?” Driver: — “I have (I thank God) read God’s book.” Spenser: — “Why, what manner of book is that you call God’s book?” Driver: — “ It is the New Testament . a259 What call you it?” Spenser: — “That is God’s book indeed, I cannot deny.” Driver: — “That same book have I read throughout, but vet never could find any such sacrament there; and for that cause I cannot make you answer to that thing I know not. Notwithstanding yet, for all that, I will grant you a sacrament, called the Lord’s supper; and therefore, seeing I have granted you a sacrament, I pray you show me what a sacrament is.” Spenser: — “It is a sign.” And one Dr. Gascoine, being by, confirmed the same, that it was the sign of an holy thing. Driver: — “You have said the truth, sir,” said she: “it is a sign indeed, I ‘must needs grant it; and therefore seeing it is a sign, it cannot be the thing signified also. Thus far we do agree; for I have granted your own saying.”

    Then stood up the said Gascoine, and made an oration with many fair words, but little to purpose, both offensive and odious to the minds of the godly. In the end of which long tale , a260 he asked her if she did not believe the omnipotency of God, and that he was almighty, and able to perform that he spoke. She answered, “:Yes, and said, “I do believe that God is almighty, and able to perform that he spoke and promised.” Gascoine: — “Very well. Then he said to his disciples, ‘Take, eat, this is my body:’ ergo, it was his body. For he was able to perform that he spoke, and God useth not to lie.” Driver: — “I pray you did he ever make any such promise to his disciples, that he would make the bread his body?” Gascoine: — “Those be the words. Can you deny it?” Driver: — “No: they be the very words indeed, I cannot deny it: but I pray you, was it not bread that he gave unto them?” Gascoine: — “No, it was his body.” Driver: — “Then was it his body, that they did eat over night?” Gascoine: — “Yea, it was his body.” Driver: — “What body was it, then, that was crucified the next day?” Gascoine: — It was Christ’s body.” Driver: — “How could that he, when the disciples had eaten him up over night, except he had two bodies, as by your argument he had? f418 one they did eat over night, and another was crucified the next day.

    Such a doctor, such doctrine! Be you not ashamed to teach the people, that Christ bad two bodies? In Luke 22., ‘He took bread and brake it *and gave it* a261 to his disciples, saying, Take, etc.; and do this in the remembrance of me.’ St. Paul also saith, 1 Corinthians 11: ‘Do this in the remembrance of me; for as often as ye shall eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye shall show the Lord’s death till he come” and therefore I marvel ye blush not before all this people, to lie so manifestly as ye do.” With that Gascoine held his peace, and made her no answer; for, as it seemed, he was ashamed of his doings. Then the chancellor lift up his head *of on* a262 his cushion, and commanded the gaoler to take her away. “Now,” said she, “ye be not able to resist the truth, ye command me to prison again. Well, the Lord in the end shall judge our cause, and to him I leave it. I wis, I wis, a263 this gear will go for no payment then.” So went she with the gaoler away.

    ANOTHER EXAMINATION BEFORE DRS. SPENSER AND GASCOINE.

    The next day she came before them again, and the chancellor then asked her, What she said to the blessed sacrament of the altar. Driver: — “I will say nothing to it; for you will neither believe me nor yourselves. For yesterday I asked you what a sacrament was, and you said it was a sign, and I agreed thereto, and said it was the truth, confirming it by the Scriptures; so that I went not from your own words: and now ye come and ask me again of such a sacrament as I told you I never read of in the Scriptures.” Spenser: — “Thou liest, naughty woman ! we did not say so, that it was a sign.” Driver: — “Why masters, be ye not the men that you were yesterday? Will ye eat your own words. Are ye not ashamed to lie before all this multitude here present, who heard you speak the same?”

    Then stood up Dr. Gascoine, and said, she was deceived; for there were three churches — the malignant church, the church militant, and the church triumphant. So he would fain have made matter, but he could not tell which way. Driver: — “Sir, is there made mention of so many churches in the Scripture?” Gascoine: — “Yea.” Driver: — “I pray you, where find you this word ‘church’ written in the Scripture?” Gascoine: — “It is written in the New Testament.” Driver: - “I pray you, sir, show the place where it is written.” Gascoine: — “I cannot tell the place, but there it is.” With that she desired him to look in his Testament. Then he fumbled and sought about him for one: but at that time he had none; and that he knew well enough, though he seemed to search for it. At the last she said, “Have ye none here, sir?” Gascoine: — “No.” Driver: — “I thought so much indeed, that ye were little acquainted withal. Surely, you be a good doctor. You say you sit here to judge according to the law, and how can you give true judgment, and have not the book of the law with you. At which words Gascoine was out of countenance, and asked her if she had one. Driver: - “No,” said she. “Then,” said he, “I am as good a doctor as you.” Driver: — “Well, sir, I had one, but you took it from me (as you would take me from Christ if you could); and since would ye not suffer me to have any book at all, so burning is your charity, But you may well know (I thank God) that I have exercised the same; else could I not have answered you (to God’s glory be it spoken) as I have.” Thus she lout them all to silence, that one looked on another, and had not a word to speak. Driver: — “Have you no more to say? God be honored! You be not able to resist the Spirit of God in me, a poor woman, I was an honest poor man’s daughter, never brought up in the university, as you have been, but I have driven the plough before my father many a time (I thank God): yet notwithstanding, in the defense of God’s truth, and in the cause of my Master Christ, by his grace I will set my foot against the foot of any of you all, in the maintenance and defense of the same, and if I had a thousand lives, they should go for payment thereof.”

    So the chancellor rose up, and read the sentence in Latin of condemnation, and committed her to the secular power; and so went she to prison again as joyful as the bird of day, praising and glorifying the name of God.

    ALEXANDER GOUCH, MARTYR.

    At which time Alexander Gouch also was examined, who was taken with her, as before is said, whose examination hereafter followeth.

    This Alexander Gouch was examined chiefly of the sacrament and other ceremonies of the popish church; and for that his belief was, that Christ was ascended into heaven, and there remaineth, and that the sacrament was the remembrance of his death and passion, and for refusing the mass, and the pope to be the supreme head of Christ’s church. For these causes was he condemned, and died with Alice Driver at Ipswich, the 4th of November, which was the Monday after All Saints, 1558, Dr. Miles Spenser being chancellor; they both ending their lives with earnest zeal, nothing fearing to speak their conscience, when they were commanded to the contrary.

    These two godly persons being come to the place where the stake was set, by seven of the clock in the morning (notwithstanding they came the selfsame morning from Melton gaol, which is six miles from Ipswich), being in their prayers, and singing of psalms both of them together, sir Harry Dowell, then Being sheriff, was very much offended with them, and willed the bailiffs of Ipswich to bid them make an end of their prayers.

    They kneeling upon a broom-faggot, one of the bailiffs, whose name was Richard Smart, commanded them to make an end, saying, “On, on, have done, have done; make an end; nail them to the stake;” yet they continued in prayer.

    Then sir Harry sent one of his men, whose name was Richard Cove, that they should make an end.

    Then Gouch stood up and said unto the sheriff, “I pray you, master sheriff, let us pray a little while, for we have but a little time to live here.”

    Then said the bailiff, “Come off, have them to the fire.”

    Then the said Gouch and Alice Driver said, “Why, master sheriff and master bailiff, will you not suffer us to pray?” “Away,” said sir Harry. “to the stake with them!”

    Gouch answered, “Take heed, master sheriff. If you forbid prayer, the vengeance of God hangeth over your heads.” Then they, being tied to the stake, and the iron chain being put about Alice Driver’s neck,” Oh !” said she, “here is a goodly neckerehief; blessed be God for it.”

    Then divers came, and took them by the hands, as they were bound, standing at the stake. The sheriff cried, “Lay hands on them, lay hands on them!” With that a great number ran to the stake. The sheriff seeing that, let them all alone, so that there was not one taken. There was one Bate, a barber, a busy doer about them, who, having then a frieze gown upon him, sold it immediately, saying, It stank of heretics, with other foul words more. After this, within three or four weeks, God’s hand was upon him, and so he died very miserably in Ipswich.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF PHILIP HUMFREY AND JOHN AND HENRY DAVID, a264 THREE WHICH WERE BURNT AT BURY, FOR THE TRUE TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST.

    Although our history hasteth apace (the Lord be praised) to the happy death of queen Mary, yet she died not so soon, but some there were burnt before, and more should have been burnt soon after them, if God’s provision had not prevented her with death. In the number of them which suffered in the same month when queen Mary died, were three that were burnt at Bury, whose names were these: Philip Humfrey, John David, and Henry David, his brother.

    Concerning the burning of these three, here is to be noted, that sir Clement Higham , a265 about a fortnight before the queen died, did sue out a writ for the burning of these three aforesaid godly and blessed martyrs, notwithstanding that the queen was then known to be past remedy of her sickness.

    THE TROUBLE AND MARTYRDOM OF PREST’S WIFE, A. GODLY POOR WOMAN WHICH SUFFERED AT EXETER.

    Although in such an innumerable company of godly martyrs, which in sundry quarters of this realm were put to torments of fire in queen Mary’s time, it be hard so exactly to recite every particular person that suffered, but that some escape us, either unknown or omitted; yet I cannot pass over a certain poor woman, and a silly creature, burnt under the said queen’s reign, in the city of Exeter (whose name I have not yet learned), who dwelling sometime about Cornwall, having a husband and children there much addicted to the superstitious sect of popery, was many times rebuked of them, and driven to go to church, to their idols and ceremonies, to shrift, to follow the cross in procession, to give thanks to God for restoring antichrist again into this realm, etc.: which when her spirit could not abide to do, she made her prayer unto God, calling for help and mercy; and so, at length, lying in her bed, about midnight she thought there came to her a certain motion and feeling of singular comfort. Whereupon, in short space, she began to grow in contempt of her husband and children; and so taking nothing from them, but even as she went, departed from them, seeking her living by labor and spinning as well as she could, here and there for a time. In which time notwithstanding, she never ceased to utter her mind as well as she durst; howbeit she at that time was brought home to her husband again, where at last she was accused by her neighbors, and so brought up to Exeter, to be presented to the bishop and his clergy. The name of the bishop which had her in examination, was Dr.

    Turberville: his chancellor (as I gather) was Blackstone. The chiefest matter whereupon she was charged and condemned, was for the sacrament (which they call of the altar), and for speaking against idols, as by the declaration of those which were present, I understand, which report the talk between her and the bishop on this wise. “Thou foolish woman,” quoth the bishop, “I hear say, that thou hast spoken certain words against the most blessed sacrament of the altar, the body of Christ. Fie for shame! Thou art an unlearned person, and a woman. Wilt thou meddle with such high matters, which all the doctors of the world cannot define? Wilt thou talk of so high mysteries? a266 Keep thy work, and meddle with that thou hast to do. It is no woman’s matters, at cards and tow to be spoken of And if it be as I am informed, thou art worthy to be burned.” “My lord,” said she, “I trust your lordship will hear me speak.” “Yea, marry,” quoth he; “therefore I send for thee.” Woman: — “I am a poor woman, and do live by my hands, getting a penny truly; and of that I get, I give part to the poor.” Bishop: — “That is well done. Art thou not a man’s wife?” And here the bishop entered into talk of her husband. To whom she answered again, declaring that she had a husband and children; and had them not.

    So long as she was at liberty, she refused neither husband nor children: “But now, standing here as I do,” said she, “in the cause of Christ and his truth, where I must either forsake Christ or my husband, I am contented to stick only to Christ my heavenly spouse, and renounce the other.”

    And here she, making mention of the words of Christ, “He that leaveth not father or mother, sister or brother, husband,” etc., the bishop inferred, that Christ spoke that of the holy martyrs, which died because they would not do sacrifice to the false gods. Woman: — “ Sikerly, sir, a267 and I will rather die than I will do any worship to that foul idol, which with your mass you make a god.” Bishop: — “Yea, you callet, will you say that the sacrament of the altar is a foul idol?” “Yea truly,” quoth she, “there was never such an idol as your sacrament is made of your priests, and commanded to be worshipped of all men, with many fond fantasies; whereas Christ did command it to be eaten and drunken in remembrance of his most blessed passion for our redemption.” Bishop: — “See this prattling woman. Dost thou not hear, that Christ did say over the bread, ‘This is my body,’ and over the cup, ‘ This is my blood?’“ Woman: — “Yes, forsooth he said so; but he meant that it is his body and blood, not carnally, but sacramentally.” Bishop: — “Lo, she hath heard prattling among these new preachers, or heard some peevish hook. Alas, poor woman ! thou art deceived.” Woman: — “No, my lord, that I have learned, was of. godly preachers, and of godly books which I have heard read. And if you will give me leave, I will declare a reason, why I will not worship the sacrament.” Bishop: — “Marry say on, I am sure it will be goodly gear.” Woman: — “Truly such gear, as I will lose this poor life of mine for.” Bishop: — “Then you will be a martyr, good wife.” Woman: — “Indeed, if the denying to worship that bready god be my martyrdom, I will suffer it with all my heart.” Bishop: — “Say thy mind.” “You must bear with me, a poor woman,” quoth she. “So I will,” quoth he. Woman: — “I will demand of you, whether you can deny your creed, which doth say, that Christ perpetually doth sit at the right hand of his Father, both body and soul, until he come again; or whether he be there in heaven our advocate, and do make prayer for us unto God his Father? If it be so, he is not here in the earth, in a piece of bread. If he be not here, and if he do not dwell in temples made with hands, but in heaven, what, shall we seek him here? If he did offer his body once for all, why make you a new offering? If with once offering he made all perfect, why do you, with a false offering, make all unperfect? If he be to be worshipped in spirit and truth, why do you worship a piece of bread? If he be eaten and drunken in faith and truth; if his flesh be not profitable to be among us, why do you say, you make his body and flesh, and say it is profitable for body and soul?

    Alas! I am a poor woman, but rather than I would do as you do, I would live no longer. I have said, sir.” Bishop: - “I promise you, you are a jolly protestant! I pray you, in what schools have you been brought up?” Woman: — “I have upon the Sundays visited the sermons; and there have I learned such things as are so fixed in my breast, that death shall not separate them.” Bishop: — “O foolish woman! who will waste his breath upon thee, or such as thou art? But how chanceth it that thou wentest away from thy husband? If thou wert an honest woman, thou wouldest not have left thy husband and children, and run about the country like a fugitive.” Woman: — “Sir, I labored for my living; and, as my Master Christ counseleth me, when I was persecuted in one city, I fled into another.” Bishop: - “Who persecuted thee?” Woman: — “My husband and my children. For when I would have him to leave idolatry, and to worship God in heaven, he would not hear me; but he with his children rebuked me, and troubled me. I fled not for whoredom, nor for theft; but because I would be no partaker with him and his, of that foul idol the mass. And wheresorer I was, as oft as I could, upon Sundays and holy days, I made excuses not to go to the popish church.” Bishop: — “Belike then you are a good housewife, to flee from your husband, and also from the church.” Woman: — “My housewifery is but small; but God give me grace to go to the true church.” Bishop: — “The true church! what dost thou mean?” Woman: — “Not your popish church, full of idols and abominations, but where three or four a268 are gathered together in the name of God, to that church will I go, as long as I live.” Bishop: . — “Belike then you have a church of your own. Well, let this mad woman be put down to prison, until we send for her husband.” Woman: — “No, I have but one husband, which is here already in this city and in prison with me, from whom I will never depart.” And so their communication for that day brake off.

    Blackstone and others persuaded the bishop that she was amazed creature, and not in her perfect wit (which is no new thing for the wisdom of God to appear foolishness to carnal men of this world); and therefore they consulted together, that she should have liberty, and go at large. So the keeper of the bishop’s prison had her home to his house, where she fell to spinning and card-rag, and did all other work as a servant in the said keeper’s house, and went about the city, when and whither she would, and divers had delight to talk with her. And ever she continued talking of the sacrament of the altar, which of all things they could least abide. Then was her husband sent for, but she refused to go home with him, with the blemish of the cause and religion, in defense whereof she there stood before the bishop and the priests.

    Then divers of the priests had her in handling, persuading her to leave her wicked opinion about the sacrament of the altar, the natural body and blood of our Savior Christ. But she made them answer, that it was nothing but very bread and wine, and that they might be ashamed to say, that a piece of bread should be turned by a man into the natural body of Christ, which bread doth vinow, f423 and mice oftentimes do eat it, and it doth mould, and is burned: “And,” said she, “God’s own body will not be so handled, nor kept in prison, or boxes, or aumbries. Let it be your god, it shall not be mine; for my Savior sitteth on the right hand of God, and doth pray for me. And to make that sacramental or significative bread instituted for a remembrance, the very body of Christ, and to worship it, it is very foolishness and devilish deceit.” “Now truly,” said they, “the devil hath deceived thee.” “No,” said she, “I trust the living God hath opened mine eyes, and caused me to understand the right use of the blessed sacrament, which the true church doth use, but the false church doth abuse.”

    Then stept forth an old friar, and asked her what she said of the holy pope. “I,” said she, “say, that he is antichrist and the devil.” Then they all laughed. “Nay,” said she, “you have more need to weep than to laugh, and e to be sorry that ever you were born, to be the chaplains of that whore of Babylon: I defy him and all his falsehood. And get you away from me: you do but trouble my conscience. You would have me follow your doings: I will first lose my life. I pray you depart.” “Why, thou foolish woman,” said they, “we come to thee for thy profit and soul’s health.” “O Lord God,” said she, “what profit riseth by you that teach nothing but lies for truth? How save you souls, when you preach nothing but damnable lies, and destroy souls?” “How provest thou that?” said they. “Do you not damn souls,” said she, “when you teach the people to worship idols, stocks, and stones, the works of men’s hands? and to worship a false god of your own making, of a piece of bread? and teach that the pope is God’s vicar, and hath power to forgive sins? and that there is a purgatory, when God’s Son hath by his passion purged all? and say, you make God, and sacrifice him, when Christ’s body was a sacrifice once for all? Do you not teach the people to number their sins in your ears, and say, they be damned, if they confess not all; when God’s word saith, ‘Who can number his sins? ’ Do you not promise them trentals a269 and diriges, and masses for souls, and sell your prayers for money, and make them buy pardons, and trust to such foolish inventions of your own imaginations? Do you not altogether against God? Do ye not teach us to pray upon beads, and to pray unto saints, and say they can pray for us? Do you not make holy water and holy bread to fray devils? Do you not a thousand more abominations? and yet you say, you come for my profit and to save my soul! No, no; one hath saved me. Farewell you with your salvation!”

    Much other talk there was between her and them, which here were too tedious to be expressed.

    In the mean time, during this her month’s liberty granted to her by the bishop, which we spoke of before, it happened that she, entering into St.

    Peter’s church, beheld there a cunning Dutchman, how he made new noses to certain fine images which were disfigured in king Edward’s time: “What a mad man art thou,” said she, “to make them new noses, which within a few days shall all lose their heads!” The Dutchman accused her, and laid it hard to her charge. And she said unto him, “Thou art accursed, and so are thy images.” He called her “whore.” “Nay,” said she, “thy images are whores, and thou art a whore-hunter; for doth not God say, ‘You go a whoring after strange gods, figures of your own making?’ And thou art one of them.” Then was she sent for, and clapped fast; and from that time she had no more liberty.

    During the time of her imprisonment, divers resorted to her to visit her, some sent of the bishop, some of their own voluntary will; amongst whom was one Daniel, a great doer and preacher sometime of the gospel, in the days of Icing Edward, in those parties of Cornwall and Devonshire: whom after that she perceived by his own confession to have revolted from that which he preached before, through the grievous imprisonment’s, as he said, and fear of persecution which he had partly sustained by the cruel justices in those parts, earnestly she exhorted him to repent with Peter, and to be more constant in his profession.

    Moreover, there resorted to her a certain worthy gentlewoman, the wife of one Walter Ralegh, a woman of noble wit, and of a good and godly opinion; who coming to the prison, and talking with her, she said her creed to the gentlewoman; and when she came to the article, “He ascended,” there she stayed, and bade the gentlewoman to seek his blessed body in heaven, not in earth; and told her plainly that God dwelleth not in temples made with hands; and that sacrament to be nothing else but a remembrance of his blessed passion; “and yet,” said[she, “as they now use it, it is but an idol, and far wide from any remembrance of Christ’s body; which,” said she, “will not long continue; and so take it, good mistress.” So that as soon as she came home to her husband, she declared to him, that in her life she never heard a woman (of such simplicity to see to) talk so godly, so perfectly, so sincerely, and so earnestly; insomuch, that if God were not with her, she could not speak such things, “to the which I am not able to answer her,” said she, “who can read, and she cannot.”

    Also there came to her one William Kede, and John his brother, not only brethren in the flesh, but also in the truth, and men in that country of great credit, whose father, R. Kede, all his life suffered nothing but trouble for the gospel. These two good and faithful brethren were present with her, both in the hall, and also at the prison, and (as they reported) they never heard the like woman, of so godly talk, so faithful or so constant; and such godly exhortations as she gave them.

    Thus this good matron, the very servant and handmaid of Christ, was by many ways tried, both by hard imprisonment, threatenings, taunts, and scorns; called an Anabaptist, a mad woman, a drunkard, a whore, runagate.

    She was proved by liberty to go whither she would; she was tried by flattery, with many fair promises; she was tried with her husband, her goods and children; but nothing could prevail, her heart was fixed; she had east her anchor, utterly contemning this wicked world; a rare ensample of constancy to all professors of Christ’s holy gospel.

    In the bill of my information, it is so reported to me, that albeit she was of such simplicity, and without learning, yet you could declare no place of Scripture, but she would tell you the chapter; yea, she would recite you the names of all the books of the Bible. For which cause one Gregory Basset, a rark papist, said, she was out of her wit, and talked of the Scripture, as a dog rangeth far off from his master when he walketh in the fields, or as a stolen sheep out of his master’s hands, she wist not whereat, as all heretics do; with many other such taunts, which she utterly defied.

    Whereby as Almighty God is highly to be praised, working so mightily in such a weak vessel, so men of stronger and stouter nature have also to take example how to stand in like ease, when as we see this poor woman, how manfully she went through with such constancy and patience.

    At the last, when they perceived her to be past remedy, and had consumed all their threatenings, that neither by prisonment nor liberty, by menaces nor flattery, they could bring her to sing any other song, nor win her to their vanities and superstitious doings, then they cried out, “An Anabaptist, an Anabaptist!” Then, at a day, they brought her from the bishop’s prison to the Guildhall; and after that delivered her to the temporal power, according to their custom, where she was by the gentlemen of the country exhorted yet to call for grace, and to leave her fond opinions: “and go home to thy husband,” said they; “thou art an unlearned woman; thou art not able to answer to such high matters.” “I am not,” said she, “yet with my death I am content to be a witness of Christ’s death: and I pray you make no longer delay with me. My heart is fixed; I will never otherwise say, nor turn to their superstitious doings.” Then the bishop said, the devil did lead her. “No, my lord,” said she, “it is the Spirit of God which leadeth me, and which called me in my bed, and at midnight opened his truth to me.” Then was there a great shout and laughing among the priests and others.

    During the time that this good poor woman was thus under these priests’ hands, amongst many other bakings and sore conflicts which she sustained by them, here is moreover not to be forgotten, how that master Blackstone aforesaid, being the treasurer of the church, had a concubine, which sundry times resorted to him with other of his gossips; so that always when they came, this said good woman was called forth to his house, there to make his minion with the rest of the company some mirth, he examining her with such mocking and *gyring a270 *, deriding the truth, that it would have vexed any christian heart to have seen it. Then when he had long used his foolishness in this sort, and had sported himself enough in deriding this christian martyr, in the end he sent her to prison again, and there kept her very miserably, saving that sometimes he would send for her, when his aforesaid guest came to him, to use with her his accustomed folly aforesaid. But in fine, these vile wretches (after many combats and scoffing persuasions), when they had played the part of the cat with the mouse, at length condemned her, and delivered her over to the secular power.

    Then the indictment being given and read, which was, that she should go to the place whence she came, and from thence be led to the place of execution, then and there to be burned with flames till she should be consumed; she lifted up her voice, and thanked God, saying, “I thank thee, my Lord my God; this day have I found that which I have long sought.”

    But such outcries as there were again, and such mockings, were never seen upon a poor silly woman; all which she most patiently took. And yet this favor they pretended after her judgment, that her life should be spared, if she would turn and recant, “Nay, that I will not,” said she: “God forbid that I should lose the life eternal, for this carnal and short life. I will never turn from my heavenly Husband, to my earthly husband; from the fellowship of angels, to mortal children. And if my husband and children be faithful, then am I theirs. God is my Father, God is my Mother; God is my Sister, my Brother, my Kinsman; God is my Friend most faithful.”

    Then was she delivered to the sheriff, and innumerable people beholding her, she was led by the officers to the place of execution, without the walls of Exeter, called Southernhay, where again these superstitious priests assaulted her; and she prayed them to have no more talk with her, but cried still, “God be merciful to me a sinner, God be merciful to me a sinner!”

    And so, while they were tying her to the stake, thus still she cried, and would give no answer to them, but with much patience took her cruel death, and was with the flames and fire consumed. And so ended this mortal life, as constant a woman in the faith of Christ, as ever was upon the earth. She was as simple a woman to see to, as any man might behold; of a very little and short stature, somewhat thick, about fifty-four years of age. She had a cheerful countenance, so lively, as though she had been prepared for that day of her marriage to meet the Lamb; most patient of her words and answers; sober in apparel, meat and drink, and would never be idle; a great comfort to as many as would talk with her; good to the poor; and in her trouble, money, she said, she would take none; “for,” she said, “I am going to a city, where money beareth no mastery; while I am here, God hath promised to feed me.” Thus was her mortal life ended: for whose constancy God be everlastingly praised, Amen.

    Touching the name of this woman (as I have now learned), she was the wife of one called Prest, dwelling in the diocese of Exeter, not far from Launceston.

    THE PERSECUTION AND MARTYRDOM OF RICHARD SHARP, THOMAS BENION, AND THOMAS HALE, THREE GODLY MEN BURNT AT BRISTOL A271 , ABOUT THE LATTER YEARS OF QUEEN MARY’S REIGN.

    In writing of the blessed saints which suffered in the bloody days of queen Mary, I had almost overpassed the names and story of three godly martyrs, which with their blood gave testimony likewise to the gospel of Christ, being condemned and burnt in the town of Bristol. The names of whom were these: Richard Sharp, Thomas Benign, and Thomas Hale.

    First, Richard Sharp, weaver, of Bristol, was brought the 9th day of March, anno 1556, before master Dalby, chancellor of the town or city of Bristol; and, after examination, concerning the sacrament of the altar, was persuaded by the said Dalby and others to recant; and the 29th of the same month was enjoined to make his recantation before the parishioners in his parish church. Which when he had done, he felt in his conscience such a tormenting hell, that he was not able quietly to work in his occupation, but decayed and changed both in color and liking of his body; who shortly after, upon Sunday, came into his parish church, called Temple, and after high mass, came to the choir-door, and said with a loud voice, “Neighbors! bear me record that yonder idol,” and pointed to the altar, “is the greatest, and most abominable that ever was; and I am sorry that ever I denied my Lord God.” Then the constables were commanded to apprehend him; but none stepped forth, but suffered him to go out of the church. After, by night, he was apprehended and carried to Newgate; and shortly after he was brought before the lord chancellor, denying the sacrament of the altar to be the body and blood of Christ; and said, it was an idol; and therefore was condemned to be burnt, by the said Dalby. He was burnt the 7th of May, 1557; and died godly, patiently, and constantly, confessing the articles of our faith.

    The Thursday in the night before Easter, anno 1557, came one master David Herris, alderman, and John Stone, to the house of one Thomas Hale, a shoemaker of Bristol, and caused him to rise out of his bed, and brought him forth of his door. To whom the said Thomas Hale said, “You have sought my blood these two years, and now much good do it you with it:” who, being committed to the watchmen, was carried to Newgate the 24th of April, the year aforesaid, was brought before master Dalby the chancellor, committed by him to prison, and after by him condemned to be burnt, for saying the sacrament of the altar to be an idol. He was burned the 7th of May with the foresaid Richard Sharp, and godly, patiently, and constantly, embraced the fire with his arms.

    Richard Sharp and Thomas Hale were burnt both together in one fire, and bound back to back.

    Thomas Benion a weaver, at the commandment of the commissioners, was brought by a constable, the 18th day of August, anno 1557, before master Dalby, chancellor of Bristol, who committed him to prison for saying there was nothing but bread in the sacrament, as they used it. Wherefore, the 20th day of the said August, he was condemned to be burnt by the said Dalby, for denying five of their sacraments, and affirming two, that is, the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ, and the sacrament of baptism.

    He was burnt the 27th of the said month and year, and died godly, constantly, and patiently, with confessing the articles of our christian faith.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF FIVE CONSTANT CHRISTIANS WHICH SUFFERED THE LAST OF ALL OTHERS IN THE TIME OF QUEEN MARY.

    The last that suffered in queen Mary’s time, were five at Canterbury, burnt about six days before the death of queen Mary, whose names follow hereunder written: John Comeford, of Wrotham; Christopher Brown, of Maidstone; John Herst, of Ashford; Alice Snoth; and Katherine Knight, otherwise called Katherine Tynley, an aged woman.

    These five (to close up the final rage of queen Mary’s persecution), for the testimony of that word, for which so many had died before, gave up their lives meekly and patiently, suffering the violent malice of the papists; which papists, although they then might have either well spared them, or else deferred their death, knowing of the sickness of queen Mary; yet such was the implacable despite of that generation, that some there be that say, the archdeacon of Canterbury the same time being at London, and understanding the danger of the queen, incontinently made all post-haste home to despatch these, whom, before, he had then in his cruel custody.

    The matter why they were judged to the fire, was this: - For believing the body not to be in the sacrament of the altar, unless it be received; saying moreover, that we receive another thing also besides Christ’s body, which we see, and is a temporal thing, according to St. Paul, “The things that be seen, be temporal,” etc. Item, For confessing that an evil man doth not receive Christ’s body, “Be cause no man hath the Son, except it be given him of the Father.” Item, That it is idolatry to creep to the cross; and St. John forbidding it, saith, “Beware of images.” Item, For confessing that we should not pray to our Lady, and other saints, because they be not omnipotent.

    For these and other such articles of christian doctrine, were these five committed to the fire. Against whom when the sentence should be read, and they excommunicate, after the manner of the papists, one of them, John Comeford by name, stirred with a vehement spirit of the zeal of God, proceeding in a more true excommunication against the papists, in the name of them all, pronounced sentence against them, in these words as follow: “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the most mighty God, and by the power of his Holy Spirit, and the authority of his holy catholic and apostolic church, we do here give into the hands of Satan to be destroyed, the bodies of all those blasphemers and heretics, that do maintain any error against his most holy word, or do condemn his most holy truth for heresy, to the maintenance of any false church or feigned religion; so that by this thy just judgment, O most mighty God, against thy adversaries, thy true religion may be known to thy great glory and our comfort, and to the edifying of all our nation! Good Lord, so be it. Amen.”

    This sentence of excommunication, being the same time openly pronounced and registered, proceeding so, as it seemeth, from an inward faith and hearty zeal to God’s truth and religion, took such effect against the enemy, that, within six days after, queen Mary died, and the tyranny of all English papists with her. Albeit, notwithstanding the sickness and death of that queen, whereof they were not ignorant; yet the archdeacon, with others of Canterbury, thought to despatch the martyrdom of these men before. In the which fact, the tyranny of this archdeacon seemeth to exceed the cruelty of Bonner; who, notwithstanding he had certain the same time under his custody, vet he was not so importune in haling them to the fire, as appeareth by father Living and his wife, and divers others, who, being the same time under the custody and danger of Bonner , a272 were delivered by the death of queen Mary, and remain yet some of them alive.

    These godly martyrs, in their prayers which they made before their martyrdom, desired God that their blood might be the last that should be shed, and so it was.

    This Katherine Tynley was the mother of one Robert Tynley, now dwelling in Maidstone, which Robert was in trouble all queen Marytime; to whom his mother, coming to visit him, asked him how he took this place of Scripture which she had seen, not by reading of the Scripture (for she had yet in manner no taste of religion), but had found it by chance in a book of prayers, “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy; your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. And also upon the servants, and upon the maids, in those days, will I pour my Spirit,” etc.; which place after that he had expounded to her, she began to take hold on the gospel, growing more and more in zeal and love thereof; and so continued unto her martyrdom.

    Among such young women as were burnt at Canterbury, it is recorded of a certain maid, and supposed to be this Alice Snoth here this story mentioned, or else to be Agnes Snoth above storied (for they were both burnt), that when she was brought to be executed, she being at the stake, called for her godfather and godmothers. The justice, hearing her, sent for them, but they durst not come. Notwithstanding the justices willed the messenger to go again, and to show them that they should incur no danger thereof.

    Then they, hearing that, came to know the matter of their sending for.

    When the maid saw them, she asked them what they had proraised for her; and so she immediately rehearsed her faith, and the commandments of God; and required of them, if there were any more that they had promised in her behalf, and they said, No. “Then,” said she, “I die a christian woman, bear witness of me.” And so cruelly in fire was she consumed, and gave joyfully her life up for the testimony of Christ’s gospel, to the terror of the wicked, and comfort of the godly; and also to the stopping of the slanderous months of such as falsely do quarrel against the faithful martyrs, for going from that religion wherein by their godfathers and godmothers they were first baptized.

    THE STORY AND CONDEMNATION OF JOHN HUNT AND RICHARD WHITE, READY TO BE BURNT, BUT WHO, BY THE DEATH OF QUEEN MARY, ESCAPED THE FIRE.

    Besides these martyrs above named, divers there were in divers other places of the realm imprisoned, whereof some were but newly taken and not yet examined; some begun to be examined, but were not yet condemned; certain were both examined and condemned, but for lack of the writ escaped.

    Others there were also, both condemned, and the writ also was brought down for their burning, and yet by the death of the chancellor, the bishop, and of queen Mary happening together about one time, they most happily and marvelously were preserved, and lived many years after; in the number of whom was one John Hunt and Richard White, imprisoned at Salisbury: touching which history something here is to be showed.

    First, these two good men and faithful servants of the Lord above named, to wit, John Hunt and Richard White, had remained long time in prison at Salisbury, and other places thereabout, the space of two years and more.

    During which time, oftentimes they were called to examination, and manifold ways were impugned by the bishops and the priests. All whose examinations, as I thought not much needful here to prosecute or to search out, for the length of the volume; so neither again did I think it good to leave no memory at all of the same, but some part to express, namely of the examination of Richard White before the bishop of Salisbury, the bishop of Gloucester, with the chancellor and other priests, not unworthy, perchance, to be rehearsed.

    THE EXAMINATION OF RICHARD WHITE, BEFORE THE BISHOP OF SALISBURY, IN HIS CHAMBER IN SALISBURY, THE 26TH DAY OF APRIL, ANNO 1557.

    The bishop of Salisbury at that time was Dr. Capon. The bishop of Gloucester was Dr. Brooks. These, with Dr. Geffery the chancellor of Salisbury, and a great number of priests sitting in judgment, Richard White was brought before them; with whom first the bishop of Gloucester, who had the examination of him, beginneth thus. Bishop Brooks: — “Is this the prisoner?” The Chancellor: — “Yea, my lord.” Brooks: — “Friend, wherefore camest thou hither?” White: — “My lord, I trust to know the cause: for the law saith, ‘In the mouth of two or three witnesses, things must stand.’” Dr. Capon: — “Did not I examine thee of thy faith, when thou camest hither?” White: — “No, my lord, you did not examine me, but commanded me to the Lollards’ Tower, and that no man should speak with me. And now I do require mine accuser.”

    Then the registrar said, “The mayor of Marlborough did apprehend you for words that you spoke there; and, for that, I commanded you to be conveyed hither to prison.” White: You had the examination of me in Marlborough. Say you what I have said; and I will answer you.” Geffery: — “Thou shalt confess thy faith ere thou depart; and therefore say thy mind freely, and be not ashamed so to do.” White: — “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, because it is the power of God to salvation unto all that believe: and St. Peter saith, ‘If any man do ask thee a reason of the hope that is in thee, make him a direct answer, and that with meekness.’ Who shall have the examination of me?” Chancellor: — “My lord of Gloucester shall have the examination of thee.” White: — “My lord, will you take the pains to wet ).our coat in my blood? Be not guilty thereof; I warn you beforehand!” Brooks: — “I will do nothing to the contrary to our law.” White: — “My lord, what is it that you do request at my hands?” Brooks: — “I will appose thee upon certain articles, and principally upon: the sacrament of the altar: How dost thou believe of the blessed sacrament of the altar. Believest thou not the real, carnal, and corporal presence of Christ in the same, even the very same Christ that was born of the Virgin Mary, that was hanged on the cross, and that suffered for our sins?” And at these words they all put off their caps, and bowed their bodies. White: — “My lord, what is a sacrament?” Brooks: — “It is the thing itself the which it representeth.” White: — “My lord, that cannot be; for he that representeth a prince, cannot he the prince himself.” Brooks: — “How many sacraments findest thou in the Scriptures, called by the name of sacraments?” White: — “I find two sacraments in the Scriptures, but not called by the names of sacraments. But I think St. Augustine gave them the first name of sacraments.” Brooks: — “Then thou findest not that word sacrament in the Scriptures?” White: — “No, my lord.” Brooks: — “Did not Christ say, ‘This is my body?’ and are not his words true?” White: — “I am sure the words are true; but you play by me, as the devil did by Christ, for he said, ‘If thou be, etc. for it is written,’ (Matthew 4.) etc. But the words that followed after, he clean left out, which are these: ‘Thou shalt walk upon the lion and asp,’ (Psalm 91.) etc. These words the devil left out, because they were spoken against himself; and even so do you recite the Scriptures.” Brooks: — “Declare thy faith upon the sacrament” White: — “Christ and his sacraments are like, because of the natures; for in Christ are two natures, a divine and a human nature: so likewise in the sacraments of Christ’s body and blood there be two natures, the which I divide into two parts, that is, external and internal. The external part is the element of bread and wine, according to the saying of St. Augustine: the internal part is the invisible grace, which by the same is represented. So is there an external receiving of the same sacrament, and an internal. The external is with the hand, the eye, the mouth, and the ear: the internal is by the Holy Ghost in the heart, which worketh in me faith. Whereby I apprehend all the merits of Christ, applying the same wholly unto my salvation. If this be truth, believe it; and if it be not, reprove it.” Dr. Hoskins: — “This is Oecolampadius’s doctrine, and Hooper taught it the people.” Brooks: — “Dost thou not believe, that after the words of consecration there is the natural presence of Christ’s body?” White: — “My lord, I will answer you, if you will answer me to one question. Is not this article of our belief true: ‘ He sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty?’ If he be come from thence to judgment, say so.Brooks: — “No: but if thou wilt believe the Scriptures, I will prove to thee that Christ was both in heaven and in earth at one time.” White: — As he is God, he is in all places; but as for his manhood, he is but in one place.” Brooks: — “St. Paul saith, ‘Last of all he was seen of me,’ (1 Corinthians 15.) etc. Here St. Paul saith he saw Christ; and St. Paul was not in heaven.” White: — “St. Paul’s chief purpose was by this place to prove the resurrection. But how do you prove that Christ, when he appeared to St. Paul, was not still in heaven; like as he was seen of Stephen, sitting at the right hand of God? St. Augustine saith, the Head that was in heaven did cry for the body and members which were on the earth, and said, ‘Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?’ And was not Paul taken up into the third heaven, (2 Corinthians 2.) where he might see Christ? as he witnesseth in 1 Corinthians 15. For there he doth but only say he saw Christ, but concerning the place he speaketh nothing.

    Wherefore this place of Scripture proveth not that Christ was both in heaven and earth at one time. Brooks: — “I told you before, he would not believe. Here be three opinions, the Lutherans, the Oecolampadians, and we the catholics. If you the Oecolampadians have the truth, then the Lutherans, and we the catholics, be out of the way. If the Lutherans have the truth, then you the Oecolampadians, and we the catholics, be out of the way. But if we the catholics have the truth, as we have indeed, then the Lutherans, and you the Oecolampadians, are out of the way; as you are indeed, for the Lutherans do call you heretics.” White: — “My lord, ye have troubled me greatly with the Scriptures.” Brooks: — “Did I not tell you it was not possible to remove him from his error? Away with him to the Lollards’ Tower, and despatch him as soon as ye can!”

    This was the effect of my first examination. More examinations I had after this, which I have no time now to write out.

    Amongst many other examinations of the foresaid Richard White, at divers and sundry times sustained, it happened one time, that Dr. Blackstone, chancellor of Exeter, sat upon him, with divers other, who, alleging certain doctors (as Chrysostome, Cyprian, Tertullian) against the ‘said Richard, and being reproved by him for his false patching of the doctors, fell in such a quaking and shaking (his conscience belike remorsing him), that he was fain, stooping down, to lay both his hands upon his knees to stay his body from trembling.

    Then the said John Hunt and Richard White, after many examinations and long captivity, at length were called for, and brought before Dr. Geffery, the bishop’s chancellor, there to be condemned; and so they were. The high sheriff at that present was one named sir Anthony Hungerford, who being then at the sessions, was there charged with these two condemned persons, with other malefactors there condemned likewise the same time, to see the execution of death ministered unto them.

    In the mean time master Clifford of Boseombe in Wiltshire, son-in-law to the said sir Anthony Hungerford the sheriff, cometh to his father, exhorting him and counseling him earnestly in no case to meddle with the death of these two innocent persons; and if the chancellor and priests would needs be instant upon him, yet he should first require the writ to be sent down De comburendo, for his discharge.

    Sir Anthony Hungerford hearing this, and understanding justice Brown to be in the town the same time, went to ]:the to ask his advice and counsel in the matter; who told him that without the writ sent down from the superior powers, he could not be discharged; and if the writ were sent, then he must by the law do his charge.

    The sheriff, understanding by justice Brown how far he might go by the law, and having at that time no writ for his warrant, let them alone, and the next day after, taking his horse, departed.

    The chancellor all this while marveling what the sheriff meant,, and yet disdaining to go unto him, but looking rather the other should have come first to him, at last hearing that he was ridden away, taketh his horse and rideth after him; who, at length overtaking the said sheriff, declared unto him how he had committed certain condemned prisoners to his hand, whose duty had been to see execution done: the matter he said was great, and therefore willed him to look well unto it, how he would answer the matter. And thus began he fiercely to lay to his charge.

    Wherein note, gentle reader! by the way, the close and covert hypocrisy of the papists in their dealings; who, in the form and style of their own sentence condemnatory, pretend a petition unto the secular power, “that the rigor of the law may be mitigated, and that their life may be spared.” And how standeth this now with their own doings and dealings, when this chancellor (as ye see) is not only contented to give sentence against them, but also hunteth after the officer, not suffering him to spare them, although he would? What dissimulation is this of men, going and doing contrary to their own words and profession! But let us return to our matter again.

    The sheriff, hearing the chancellor’s words, and seeing him so urgent upon him, told him again that tie was no babe, which now was to be taught of him. If he had any writ to warrant and discharge him in burning those men, then he knew what he had to do. “Why,” saith the chancellor, “did not I give you a writ, with my hand, and eight more of the close, set unto the same?” “Well,” quoth the sheriff, “that is no sufficient discharge for me; and therefore, as I told you, if ye have a sufficient writ and warrant from the superior powers, I know then what I have to do in my office: otherwise, if you have no other writ but that I tell you, I will neither burn them for you, nor none of you all,” etc.

    Where note again, good reader! how by this it may be thought and supposed, that the other poor saints and martyrs of God, such as had been burnt at Salisbury before, were burnt, belike without any authorized or sufficient writ from the superiors, but only upon the information of the chancellor and of the Close, through the uncircumspect negligence of the sheriffs, which should have looked more substantially upon the matter.

    But this I leave and refer unto the magistrates. Let us return to the story again.

    Dr. Geffery the chancellor, thus sent away from the sheriff, went home, and there fell sick upon the same; for anger belike, as they signified unto me, which were the parties themselves, both godly and grave persons, who were then condemned, the one of them, which is Richard White, being yet alive. f429 The under-sheriff to this sir Anthony Hungerford above named, was one master Michel, likewise a right and a perfect godly man. So that not long after this came down the writ to burn the above-named Richard White and John Hunt: but the under-sheriff, receiving the said writ, said, “I will not be guilty,” quoth he, “of these men’s blood;” and immediately burnt the writing, and departed his way. Within four days after the chancellor died; concerning whose death this cometh by the way to be noted, that these two foresaid, John Hunt and Richard White, being the same time in a low and dark dungeon, being Saturday, toward evening (according to their accustomed manner) fell to evening prayer; who, kneeling there together, as they should begin their prayer, suddenly fell both to such a strange weeping and tenderness of heart (but how, they could not tell), that they could not pray one word, but so continued a great space, bursting out in tears. After that night was past, and the morning come, the first word they heard was, that the chancellor their great enemy was dead; the time of whose death they. found to be the same hour, when as they fell in such a sudden weeping. The Lord in all his holy works be praised, Amen. Thus much concerning the death of that wicked chancellor.

    This Richard White and the said John Hunt, after the death of the chancellor, the bishop also being dead a little before, continued still in prison till the happy coming in of queen Elizabeth: and so were set at liberty. *Prayse be to the Lord therfore?* f430 THE MARTYRDOM OF A YOUNG LAD OF EIGHT YEARS OLD, SCOURGED TO DEATH IN BISHOP BONNER’S HOUSE IN LONDON.

    If bloody torments and creel death of a poor innocent, suffering for no cause of his own, but in the truth of Christ and his religion, do make a martyr, no less deserveth the child of one John Fetty to be reputed in the catalogue of holy martyrs, who in the house of bishop Bonner unmercifully was scourged to death, as by the sequel of this story here following may appear.

    Amongst those that were persecuted and miserably imprisoned for the profession of Christ’s gospel, and yet mercifully delivered by the providence of God, there was one John Fetty, a simple and godly poor man, dwelling in the parish of Clerkenwell, and was by vocation a tailor, of the age of forty-two years or thereabout, who was accused and complained of unto one Brokenbury, a priest, and parson of the same parish, by his own wife, for that he would not come unto the church, and be partaker of their idolatry and superstition; and therefore, through the said priest’s procurement, he was apprehended by Richard Tanner and his fellow constables there, and one Martin the headborough. Howbeit immediately upon his apprehension, his wife (by the just judgment of God) was stricken mad, and distract of her wits; which declared a marvelous example of the justice of God against such unfaithful and most unnatural treachery.

    And although this example, perhaps for lack of knowledge and instruction in such cases, little moved the consciences of those simple poor men to sur-cease their persecution; yet natural pity towards that ungrateful woman wrought so in their hearts, that for the preservation and sustentation of her and her two children (like otherwise to perish), they for that present let her husband alone, and would not catty him to prison, but yet suffered him to remain quietly’ in his own house; during which time, he, as it were forgetting the wicked and unkind fact of his wife, did yet so cherish and provide for her, that within the space of three weeks (through God’s merciful providence), she was well amended, and had recovered again some stay of her wits and senses.

    But such was the power of Satan in the malicious heart of that wicked woman, that notwithstanding his gentle dealing with her, yet, she, so soon as she had recovered some health, did again accuse her husband; whereupon he was the second time apprehended, and carried unto sir John Mordant knight, one of the queen’s commissioners, and he, upon examination, sent him by Cluney the bishop’s sumner, unto the Lollards’ Tower, where he was (even at the first) put into the painful stocks, and had a dish of water set by him, with a stone put into it: to what purpose God knoweth, except it were to show that he should look for little other sustenance; which is credible ,enough, if we consider their like practices upon divers before mentioned in this history, as, amongst others, upon Richard: Smith, who died through their cruel imprisonment; touching whom, when a godly woman came to Dr. Story, to have leave that she might bury him, he asked her if he had any straw or blood in his mouth: but what he meant thereby, I leave to the judgment of the godly wise.

    After the foresaid Ferry had thus lain in the prison by the space of fifteen days, hanging in the stocks, sometimes by the one leg, and the one arm, sometimes by the other, and otherwhiles by both, it happened that one of his children (a boy of the age of eight or nine years) came: unto the bishop’s house, to see if he could get leave to speak with his father. At his coming thither, one of the bishop’s chaplains met with him, and asked him what he lacked and whom he would have. The child answered, that he came to see his father. The chaplain asked again, who was his father. The boy then told him, and pointing towards Lollards’ Tower, showed him that his father was there in prison. “Why,” quoth the priest, “thy father is a heretic.” The child, being of a bold and quick spirit, and also godly brought up, and instructed by his father in the knowledge of God, answered and said, “My father is no Heretique; but you are an Heretique, for you have Balaam’s mark.”

    With that the priest took the child by the hand, and carried him into the bishop’s house (whether to the bishop or not, I know not, but like enough he did), and there, amongst them, they did most shamefully and without all pity so whip and scourge, being naked, this tender child, that he was all in a gore-blood; and then, in a jolly brag of their catholic tyranny, they caused Cluney, having his coat upon his arm, to carry the child in his shirt unto his father being in prison, the blood running down by his heels.

    At his coming unto his father the child fell down upon his knees, and asked him blessing. The poor man then, beholding his child, and seeing him so cruelly arrayed, cried out for sorrow, and said, “Alas, Will! who hath done this to thee?” The boy answered, that as he was seeking how to come to see his father, a priest with Balaam’s mark took him into the bishop’s house, and there was he so handled. Cluney therewith violently plucked the child away out of his father’s hands, and carried him back again into the bishop’s house, where they kept him three days after. And at the three days’ end, Bonner (minding to make the matter whole, and somewhat to appease the poor man, for this their horrible fact) determined to release him; and therefore caused him early in a morning to be brought out of Lollards’ Tower into his bed-chamber, where he found the bishop basting of himself against a great fire; and at his first entering into the chamber, Fetty said, “God be here, and peace.” “God be here, and peace!” quoth Bonner; “that is neither God speed, nor Good morrow.” “If ye kick against this peace,” said Fetty, “then this is not the place that I seek for.”

    A chaplain of the bishop’s standing by, turned the poor man about, and thinking to deface him, said in mocking-wise, “What have we here, a player?” Whilst this Fetty was standing in the bishop’s chamber, he espied hanging about the bishop’s bed a great pair of black beads: whereupon he said, “My lord, I think the hangman is not far off; for the halter” (pointing to the beads) “is here already.” At which words the bishop was in a marvelous rage.

    Then, immediately after, he espied also standing in the said bishop’s chamber in the window, a little crucifix (before which, belike, Bonner used to kneel in the time of his hypocritical prayers). Then he asked the bishop what it was; and he answered that it was Christ. “Was he handled so cruelly as he is here pictured?” quoth Fetty. “Yea, that he was,” said the bishop. “And even so cruelly will you handle such as come before you. For you are unto God’s people, as Caiaphas was unto Christ.”

    The bishop being in a great fury, said, “Thou art a vile heretic; and I will burn thee, or else I will spend all that I have, unto my gown.” “Nay, my lord, said Fetty, “ye were better to give it to some poor body, that he may pray for you.”

    But yet Bonner, bethinking in himself of the danger which the child was in by their whipping, and what peril might ensue thereupon, thought better to discharge him; which thing was accomplished. Whereupon, after this and such talk the bishop at last discharged him, willing him to go home and carry his child with him; which he so did, and that with a heavy heart, to see his poor boy in such extreme pain and grief. But within fourteen days after the child died, whether through this cruel scourging, or any other infirmity, I know not; and therefore I refer the truth thereof unto the Lord, who knoweth all secrets, and also to the discreet judgment of the wise reader. But howsoever it was, the Lord yet used this their cruel and detestable fact as a means of his providence for the delivery of this good poor man and faithful Christian: his name be ever praised therefor. Amen.

    THE CRUEL HANDLING AND BURNING OF NICHOLAS BURTON, ENGLISHMAN AND MERCHANT, IN SPAIN; ALSO THE TROUBLE OF JOHN FRONTON A273 THERE. f431 Forasmuch as in our former book of Acts and Monuments mention was made of the martyrdom of Nicholas Burton, I thought here also not to omit the same; the story being such as is not unworthy to be known, as well for the profitable example of his singular constancy, as also for the noting of the extreme dealing and cruel ravening of those catholic inquisitors of Spain, who, under the pretense visor of religion, do nothing but seek their own private gain and commodity, with crafty defrauding and spoiling of other men’s goods, as by the noting of this story may appear.

    The 5th day of the month of November, about the year of our Lord God 1560, this Nicholas Burton, citizen sometime of London, and merchant, dwelling in the parish of Little St. Bartholomew, peaceably and quietly following his traffic in the trade of merchandise, and being in the city of Cadiz, in the parts of Andalusia in Spain, there came into his lodging a Judas, or (as they term them) a familiar of the fathers of the inquisition; who, in asking for the said Nicholas Burton, reigned that he had a letter to deliver to his own hands; by which means he spoke with him immediately.

    And having no letter to deliver to him, then the said promoter or familiar, at the motion of the devil, his master, whose messenger he was, invented another lie, and said, that he would take lading for London in such ships as the said Nicholas Burton had freighted to lade, if he would let any; which was partly to know where he laded his goods, that they might attach them, and chiefly to detract the time/until the alguazil or sergeant of the said inquisition might come and apprehend the body of the said Nicholas Burton; which they did incontinently. Burton then, well perceiving that they were not able to burden nor charge him that he had written, spoken, or done anything there, in that country, against the ecclesiastical or temporal laws of the same realm, boldly asked them what they had to lay to his charge that they did so arrest him, and bade them to declare the cause, and he would answer them. Notwithstanding they answered nothing, but commanded him with cruel threatening words to hold his peace, and not to speak one word to them.

    And so they carried him to the cruel and filthy common prison of the town of Cadiz, where he remained in irons fourteen days amongst thieves. All which time he so instructed the poor prisoners in the word of God, according to the good talent which God had given him in that behalf, and also in the Spanish tongue to utter the same, that in short space he had well reclaimed sundry of those superstitious and ignorant Spaniards to embrace the word of God, and to reject their popish traditions. Which being known unto the officers of the inquisition, they conveyed him, laden with irons, from thence to a city called Seville, into a more cruel and straiter prison called Triana, where the said fathers of the inquisition proceeded against him secretly, according to their accustomable cruel tyranny, that never after he could be suffered to write or to speak to any of his nation; so that to this day it is unknown who was his accuser.

    Afterward, the 20th day of December, in the foresaid year, they brought the said Nicholas Burton, with a great number of other prisoners, for professing the true christian religion, into the city of Seville, to a place where the said inquisitors sat in judgment, which they called the Auto, with a canvas coat, whereupon in divers parts was painted the huge figure of a devil, tormenting a soul in a flame of fire, and on his head a coping tank a274 of the same work. His tongue was forced out of his mouth with a cloven stick fastened upon it, that he should not utter his conscience and faith to the people; and so he was set with another Englishman of Southampton, and divers other men condemned for religion, as well Frenchmen as Spaniards, upon a scaffold over against the said inquisition, where their sentences and judgments were read and pronounced against them. And immediately after the said sentences given, they were carried from thence to the place of execution without the city, where they most cruelly burnt him: for whose constant faith, God be praised.

    This Nicholas Burton, by the way and in the flames of the fire, made so cheerful a countenance, embracing death with all patience and gladness, that the tormentors and enemies which stood by, said that the devil had his soul before he came to the fire; and therefore they said his senses of feeling were past him.

    It happened that after the arrest of this Nicholas Burton aforesaid, immediately all the goods and merchandise which he brought with him into Spain by the way of traffic, were (according to their common usage) seized and taken into the sequester; among the which they also rolled up much that appertained to another English merchant, wherewith he was credited as factor; whereof so soon as news was brought to the merchant, as well of the imprisonment of his factor, as of the arrest made upon his goods, he sent his attorney into Spain, with authority from him, to make claim to his goods, and to demand them; whose name was John Fronton, citizen of Bristol.

    When his attorney was landed at Seville, and had showed all his letters and writings to the Holy House, requiring them that such goods might be redelivered into his possession, answer was made him that he must sue by bill, and retain an advocate (but all was doubtless to delay him); and they forsooth, of courtesy, assigned him one to frame his supplication for him, and other such bills of petition as he had to exhibit into their holy court, demanding for each bill eight rials, albeit they stood him in no more stead, than if he had put up none at all. And for the space of three or four months this fellow missed not twice a day, attending every morning and afternoon at the inquisitor’s palace, suing unto them upon his knees for his despatch, but especially to the bishop of Tarragona, who was at that very time chief in the inquisition at Seville, that he, of his absolute authority, would command restitution to be made thereof; but the booty was so good and so great, that it was very hard to come by it again.

    At the length, after he had spent four whole months in suits and requests, and all to no purpose, he received this answer from them, that he must show better evidence, and bring more sufficient certificates out of England for proof of his matter, than those which he had already presented to the court: whereupon the party forthwith posted to London, and with all speed returned to Seville again with more ample and large letters testimonial, and certificates, according to their request, and exhibited them to the court.

    Notwithstanding the inquisitors still shifted him off, excusing: themselves by lack of leisure, and for that they were occupied in greater and more weighty affairs; and with such answers delayed him other four months after.

    At the last, when the party had well-nigh spent all his money, and therefore sued the more earnestly for his despatch, they referred the matter wholly to the bishop; of whom, when he repaired unto him, he made this answer: That for himself, he knew what he had to do; howbeit he was but one man, and the determination of the matter appertained unto the other commissioners as well as unto him: and thus by posting and passing it from one to another, the party could obtain no end of his suit. Yet, for his importunity’ sake, they were resolved to despatch him. It was on this sort: one of the inquisitors, called Gasco, a man very well experienced in these practices, willed the party to resort unto him after dinner. The fellow, being glad to hear these news, and supposing that his goods should be restored unto him, and that he was called in for that purpose, to talk with the other that was in prison, to confer with him about their accounts, the rather through a little misunderstanding, hearing the inquisitor cast out a word, that it should be needful for him to talk with the prisoner; and being thereupon more than half persuaded, that at the length they meant good faith, did so, and repaired thither about the evening. Immediately upon his coming, the gaoler was forthwith charged with him, to shut him up close in such a certain prison, where they appointed him. The party, hoping at the first that he had been called for about some other matter, and seeing him- self contrary to his expectation east into a dark dungeon, perceived at the length that the world went with him far otherwise than he supposed it would have done. But within two or three days after, he was brought forth into the court, where he began to demand his goods; and because it was a device that well served their turn, without any more circumstance they bade him say his “Ave Maria.” The party began, and said it after this manner: “Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus. Amen.”

    The same was written word by word as he spoke it; and without any more talk of claiming his goods, because it was bootless, they command him to prison again, and enter an action against him as a heretic, forasmuch as he did not say his “Ave Maria” after the Romish fashion, but ended it very suspiciously: for he should have added moreover, “Sancta Maria mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus;” by abbreviating whereof, it was evident enough (said they) that he did not allow the mediation of saints.

    Thus they picked a quarrel to detain him in prison a longer season, and afterwards brought him forth into their stage disguised after their manner; where sentence was given, that he should lose all the goods which he sued for (though they were not his own), and besides this, suffer a year’s imprisonment.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF ANOTHER ENGLISHMAN IN SPAIN At what time this blessed martyr of Christ suffered, which was the year of our Lord 1560, December the 22d, there suffered also, another Englishman, with other thirteen, a275 one of them being a nun, another a friar, both constant in the Lord, of which thirteen read before.

    JOHN BAKER AND WILLIAM BURGATE, MARTYRS IN SPAIN.

    John Baker and William Burgate (both Englishmen) in Cadiz, in the country of Spain, were apprehended, and in the city of Seville burnt the 2d day of November.

    MARK BURGES, MARTYR IN PORTUGAL AND WILLIAM HOKER.

    Mark Burges, an Englishman, master of an English ship, called the Minion, was burnt in Lisbon, a city in Portugal, anno 1560.

    William Hoker, a young man, about the age of sixteen years, being an Englishman, was stoned to death of certain young men there in the city of Seville, for the confession of his faith, anno 1560.

    But of these and such other acts and matters past in Spain, because they fell not within the compass of queen Mary’s reign, but since her time, another place shall serve hereafter (the Lord willing), to entreat more at large of the sallie, when we come to the )’ears and reign of the queen that now is, where we have more conveniently to infer not only of these matters of the martyrs (whereof somewhat also hath been touched before), but also of the whole inquisition of Spain, and Plackard of Flanders, f435 with the tragical tumults and troubles happening within the last memory of these our later days, according as it shall please the mercy of the Lord to enable our endeavor with grace and space to the accomplishment thereof.

    A CHAPTER OR TREATISE CONCERNING SUCH AS WERE SCOURGED AND WHIPPED BY THE PAPISTS IN THE TRUE CAUSE OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL.

    And thus, through the merciful assistance and favorable aid of Christ our Savior, thou hast as in a general register, good reader, the story collected, if not of all, yet of the most part; or at least, not many I trust omitted, of such good saints and martyrs as have lost their lives, and given their blood, or died in prison for the testimony of Christ’s true doctrine and sacraments, from the time of the cruel statute ex officio, first given out by king Henry the fourth, unto-this present time; and especially under the reign of queen Mary.

    Now after this bloody slaughter of God’s good saints and servants thus ended and discoursed, let us proceed (by the good pleasure of the Lord) somewhat likewise to entreat of such as for the same cause of religion have been, although not put to death, yet whipped and scourged by the adversaries of God’s word, first beginning with Richard Wilmot and Thomas Fairfax, who, about the time of Anne Askew, were pitifully rent and tormented with scourges and stripes for their faithful standing to Christ, and to his truth, as by the story and examination both of the said Richard Wilmot and Thomas Fairfax, now following, may appear.

    THE SCOURGING OF RICHARD WILMOT AND THOMAS FAIRFAX. A276 *After the first recantation of Dr. Crome for his sermon which he made the fifth Sunday in Lent at St. Thomas Acons, being the Mercers’ chapel, his sermon was on the epistle of the same day, written in Hebrews 10; wherein he proved very learnedly by the same place of scripture and others, that Christ was the only and sufficient sacrifice unto God the Father for the sins of the whole world, and that there was no more sacrifice to be offered for sin by the priests, forasmuch as Christ had offered his body on the cross, and shed his blood for the sins of the people, and that once for all: for the which sermon he was apprehended of bishop Bonner, and brought before Stephen Cardiner and other of the council, where he promised to recant his doctrine at Paul’s Cross the second Sunday after Easter. And accordingly he was there and preached, Bonner with all his doctors sitting before him: but so did he preach and handle his matter, that he rather verified his former saying, than denied any part or parcel of that which he before had preached and taught; for the which the protestants praised God, and heartily rejoiced. But blind Bonner with his champions were not therewith pleased, but yet notwithstanding they had him home with them, and so handled him amongst that wolfish generation, that they made him come to the Cross again the next Sunday. And because the magistrates should now hear him, and be witnesses of this recantation, which was most blasphemous, which was to deny Christ’s sacrifice not to be sufficient for penitent sinners, but the priests of Baal with their a277 sacrifice of the mass was good, godly, and a holy sacrifice, propitiatory and available both for the quick and the dead: be. cause (I say) that they would have the nobles to hear this blasphemous doctrine, the viperous generation had procured all the chief of the council to be there present.

    Now to come to our matter, at this time, the same week, between his first sermon and the last, and while Dr. Crome was in durance, one Richard Wilmot, being prentice in Bow-lane, being of the age of eighteen years, and sitting at his work in his master’s shop, the Tuesday, being the day of July, anno, one Lewes a Welshman, being one of the guard, came into the shop, having things to do for himself.

    One asked him, “What news at the court?” and he answered, that the old heretic Dr. Crome had recanted now in deed before the council, and that he should on Sunday next be at Paul’s Cross again, and there declare it.

    Then Wilmot, sitting at his master’s work, and hearing him speak these words, and many other wicked and evil, and rejoicing in the same, began to speak unto him, saying, that he was sorry to hear these news; “for if Crome should say otherwise than he hath said, that then it is contrary to the truth of God’s word, and contrary to his own conscience, which shall before God accuse him.”

    Lewes answered and said, that he had preached and taught heresy; and therefore it was meet that he should in such a place revoke it.

    Wilmot told him that he would not so say, neither did he hear him preach any doctrine contrary to God’s word written, but that he proved his doctrine, and that sufficiently, by the Scriptures.

    Then he asked him how he knew that.

    He answered, by the Scripture of God, wherein he shall find God’s will and pleasure, what he willeth all men to do, and what not to do; and also by them he should prove and try all doctrines, and the false doctrine from the true.

    Lewes said, it was never merry since the Bible was in English; and that he was both an heretic and a traitor that caused it to be translated into English (meaning Cromwell), and therefore was rewarded according to his deserts.

    He answered again, what his deserts or offences were to his prince, a great many do not know, neither doth it force whether they do or no: once he was sure that he lost his life for offending his prince, and the law did put it in execution; but this concerning that man he said, that be thought it pleased God to raise him up from a low estate, and to place him in high authority, partly unto this end, that he should do such a thing as all the bishops in the realm yet never did, and that it was to restore again God’s holy word, which had been so long hid from the people in a strange tongue which they understood not, the which word now coming abroad and continuing amongst us, will bring our bishops and priests in less estimation among the people.

    Lewes asked, Why so?

    He said, Because their doctrine and living was not according to his word. Lewes: — “I never heard but that all men should learn of the bishops and priests, because they are learned men, and have been brought up in the same all the days of their lives: wherefore they must needs know the truth. And our fathers did believe their doctrine and learning; and I think they did well, for the world was far better then, than it is now, er assure you?” Wilmot: — “I will not say so; for we must not believe them because they are bishops, neither because they are learned, neither because our forefathers did follow their doctrine. For I have read in God’s book, how that bishops and learned men have taught the people false doctrine, and likewise the priests from time to time; and indeed those people our forefathers did believe; and as they did think, so did the people think. But for all this, Christ calleth them false prophets, thieves, and murtherers, blind leaders of the blind; willing the people to take heed of them, lest they both should fall into the ditch. Moreover we read, that the bishops, priests, and learned men have been always resisters of the truth from time to time, and did always persecute the prophets in the old law, as did their successors in like wise to our Savior Christ and his disciples in the new law. We must take heed, therefore, that we credit them no further than God will have us, neither to follow them nor our forefathers otherwise than he doth command us. For Almighty God hath given to all people, as well to kings, princes, bishops, priests, learned men and unlearned men, a commandment and law, unto the which he willeth all men to be obedient. Therefore if any bishop or priest preach or teach, or prince or magistrate command, anything contrary to this commandment, we must take heed how we obey them: for it is better for us to obey God than man.” Lewes: — “Marry, sir, you are a holy doctor indeed. By God’s blood, if you were my man, 1 would set you about your business a little better, and not to look upon books; and so would your master, if he were wise.” And with that in came his master, and a young man with him, which was servant with master Daubney in Watling-street.

    My master asked, What the matter was.

    Lewes said, that he had a knavish boy here to his servant; and how that if he were his, he would rather hang him, than keep him in his house.

    Then my master, being somewhat moved, asked my fellows what the matter was. They said, “We began to talk about Dr. Crome.”

    Then my master asked him what he had said; a278 swearing a great oath, that he would make him to tell him. He said, that he trusted he had said nothing, whereby either he or master Lewes might justly be offended. “I foray you “quod Wilmot, “ask him what I said.” Lewes: - “Marry sir, this he said, that Dr. Crome did preach and teach nothing but the truth, and how that if he recant on Sunday next, he would be sorry to hear it; and that if he do, he is made to do it against his conscience. And more he sayeth, that we must not follow our bishops’ doctrine and preaching; for he sayeth they be hinderers of God’s word, and persecutors of that: and how Cromwell did more good (that traitor!) in setting forth the Bible, than all our bishops hath done these hundred years:” thus gathering more of the matter.

    Then said Wilmot, “In many things he made his tale.” His master hearing of this, was in a great fury, and rated him, saying, that either he would be hanged or burned; swearing that he would take away all his hooks, and burn them.

    The young man (master Daubney’s servant) standing by, hearing this, began to speak on his part unto Lewes and his talk confirmed all the sayings of the other to be true, which Lewes told his master; with other talk also, for the space of half an hour: for this young man was learned: his name was Thomas Fairfax.

    Thus Lewes, hearing his talk as well as of the other, went his way in a rage unto the court, and was never seen in that house since.

    But on the morrow they heard news, for that the said Wilmot and Thomas Fairfax were sent for, to come to my lord mayor. The messenger was master Smart, the swordbearer of London. They came before dinner to the mayor’s house, and were therefore commanded to sit down at dinner in the hall; and when the dinner was done, they were both called into a parlor, where the mayor and sir Roger Cholmley was, who examined them severally, the one not hearing the other.

    The effect of their talk with them was this; sir Roger Cholmley said unto the foresaid Wilmot, that my lord mayor and he had received a commandment from the council, to send for him and his companion, and to examine him of certain things which were laid unto his charge as they have done already with his other fellow . a279 Then said master Cholmley to him, “Sirrah, what countryman art thou?” tie answered, that he was born in Cambridgeshire, and in such a town. Then he asked him, how long he had been in the city.

    He told ( him. Then he asked what learning he had. He said, “Little learning and small knowledge.”

    Then deridingly he asked, how long he had known Dr. Crome. He said, But a while; about two years. He said that he was a lying boy, and said that he (the said Wilmot) was his son. The other said unto him, That that was unlike, for that he never see his mother, nor she him. Cholmley said, he lied. Wilmot said, he could prove it to be true. Then he asked him how he liked his sermon, that he made at St. Thomas of Acres’ chapel in Lent. He said that in deed he heard him not. He said, Yea, and the other Nay. Then said he, “What say you to his sermon made at the Cross the last day? heard you not that?” Wilmot: — “Yea, and in that sermon he deceived a great number of people.” Cholmley: — “How so?” Wilmot: — “For that they looked that he should have recanted his doctrine that he taught before; but did not, but rather confirmed it.” Cholmley: — “Yea, sir, but how say you now to him? for he hath recanted before the council; and hath promised on Sunday next to be at the Cross again; how think ye in that?” Wilmot: — “If he so did, I am the more sorry for to hear it;” and said, he thought he did it for fear and safeguard of his life. Cholmley: — “But what say you? was his first sermon heresy or not?” Wilmot: — “No, I suppose it was no heresy: for if it. were, St.

    Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews was heresy, and Paul an heretic that preached such doctrine, But God forbid that any christian should so think of the holy apostle; for I do not so think.” Cholmley: — “Why, how knowest thou that St. Paul wrate these things that are in English now to be true, whereas Paul never wrate English nor Latin?” Wilmot: — “I am certified that learned men of God, that did seek to advance his word, did translate the same out of the Greek and Hebrew into Latin and English, and that they durst not presume to alter the sense of the Scripture of God and last will and testament of Christ Jesus.”

    Then the lord mayor, being in a great fury, asked him what he had to do to read such books, and said that it was pity that his master did suffer him so to do, and that he was not set better to work; and in fine said unto him, that he had spoken evil of my lord of Winchester and Bonner, and those reverend and learned fathers and councilors of this realm; for the which our fact he seeth no other but we must-suffer a280 as due to the same. And Cholmley said, “Yea my lord, there is such a sort of heretics and traitorly knaves taken now in Essex by my lord Riche, that it is too wonderful to hear. They shall be sent up to the bishop shortly, and they shall be hanged and burnt all.” Wilmot: — “I am sorry to hear that of my lord Riche, for that he was my godfather, and gave me my name at my baptism.”

    Cholmley asked him when he spoke with him. He said, Not these twelve years.

    Then said Cholmley, If he knew that he were such a one, he would do the like by him; and that in so doing he did God great service. Wilmot: — “I have read the same saying in the gospel, that Christ said to his disciples, ‘The time shall come,’ saith he, ‘that whosoever killeth you, shall think that he shall do God high service.’” “Well, sir,” said he, “because ye are so full of your Scripture, and so well learned, we consider you lack a quiet place to study in: therefore you shall go to a place where you shall be most quiet; and I would wish you to study how you will answer to the council of those things which they have to charge you with, for else it is like to cost you your best joint. I know my lord of Winchester will handle you well enough, when he heareth you thus.”

    Then was the officer called in, to have him to the Counter in the Poultry, and the other to the other Counter, not one of them to see another. And thus remained eight days; in the which time their masters made great labor unto the lord mayor and to Sir Roger Cholmley to know their offences, and that the); might be delivered.

    At length they procured the wardens of the worshipful company to labor with them in their suit to the mayor. The mayor went with them to the council; but at that time they could find no grace at Winchester’s hand, and sir Anthony Browne’s, but that they had deserved death, and that they should have the law.

    At length through entreatance he granted them thus much favor, that they should not die as they had deserved, but should be tied to a cart’s tail, and be whipped three market days through the city. Thus they came home that day, and went another day; and the mayor and the wardens of the company kneeled before them to have this open punishment to be released, forasmuch as they were servants of so worshipful a company, and that they might be punished in their own hall before the wardens and certain of the company. At length it was granted them, but with a condition, as some said, as shall be hereafter declared.

    Then were they sent before the masters the next day to the hall, both their masters being also present, and there were laid to their charges the heinous offences and crimes that they had committed, and that they were both heretics and traitors, and had deserved death for the same. And this was declared with a long process by the master of the company, whose name was master Broke, declaring what great labor and suit the mayor and the wardens had for them, to save them from death, which they (as he said) had deserved, and from open shame, which they should have had, being judged by the council to have been whipped three days through the city at a cart’s tail; and from these two dangers had they labored to deliver them from, but not without great suit and also charge. “For,” saith he, “the company hath promised unto the council for this their mercy and favor showed towards them, being of such a worshipful company, a hundred pounds: notwithstanding we must see them punished in our hall, within ourselves, for those their offences.” After these and many other words, he commanded them to prepare themselves to have their punishment.

    Then were they put asunder, and were stripped from the waist upward one after the other, and had into the hall; and in the midst of the hall, where they use to make their fire, there was a great ring of iron, to the which there was a rope tied fast, and one of their feet thereto fast tied. Then came two men down, disguised in mummers’ apparel, with visors on their faces, and they bet us with great rods until the blood did follow in our bodies. As concerning this Wilmot, he could not lie in his bed six nights after, for Broke played the tyrant with them.

    So it was, that with the beating, and the flight, and fear, they were never in health since, as the said Wilmot with his own mouth hath credibly ascertained us thereof, and we can no less but testify the same. Thus have we briefly rehearsed this little tragedy, wherein ye may note the malice of the enemies at all times to those which profess Christ, and take his part, of what estate or degree soever they be of, according to the apostle’s saying, “It is given unto you not only to believe, but also to suffer with him.” To whom be honor and glory, Amen.

    Next after these two above specified followeth the beating of one Thomas Green; who, in the time of queen Mary, was caused likewise to be scourged and beaten by Dr. Story. What the cause was, here followeth in his story and examination to be seen, which he penned with his own hand, as the thing itself will declare to the reader thereof. The copy and words of the same, as he wrote them, here follow; wherein as thou mayst note, gentle reader, the simplicity of the one, so, I pray thee, mark again the cruelty of the other.* THE SCOURING OF THOMAS GREEN.

    In the reign of queen Mary, I Thomas Green a282 being brought before Dr. Story by my master, whose name is John Wayland a printer, for a book called “Antichrist,” a281 which had been distributed to certain honest men, he asked me where I had the book, and said, I was a traitor. I told him I had the book of *a stranger,* a Frenchman. Then he asked me more questions, but I told him I would tell him no more, nor could not. Then he said, It was no heresy, but treason; and that I should be hanged, drawn, and quartered. And so he called for Cluney, the keeper of the Lollards’ Tower, and bade him set me fast in the stocks.

    I was not in the Lollards’ Tower two hours, but Cluney came and took me out, and carried me to the coalhouse; and there I found a Frenchman lying in the stocks; and he took him out, and put on my right leg a bolt and a fetter, and on my left hand another, and so he set me cross-fettered in the stocks, and took the Frenchman away with him: and there I lay a day and a night. On the morrow after he came and said, “Let us shift your hand and leg, because you shall not be lame;” and he made as though he pitied me, and said, “Tell me the truth, and I will be your friend.”

    And I said, I had told the truth, and would tell no other. *And he remembered himself a283 and* put no more but my leg in the stocks, and so went his way; and there I remained six days, and could come to no answer.

    Then Dr. Story sent for me, and asked whether I would tell him the truth, where I had the book. I said I had told him, of a Frenchman.

    He asked me where I came acquainted with the Frenchman, where he dwelt, and where he delivered me the book. I said, “I came acquainted with him in Newgate. I, coming to my friends which were put in for God’s word and truth’s sake, and the Frenchman coming to his friends also, there we did talk together, and became acquainted one with another, and did eat and drink together there with our friends, in the fear of God.”

    Then Story *mocked* me, and said, “Then there was ‘brother in Christ,’ and ‘brother in Christ,’“ and *mocked* me, and called me heretic, and asked me if I had the book of him in Newgate. I said, Nay; and I told him, as I went on my business in the street I met him, and he asked me how I did, and I him also: so we fell in communication, and he showed me that book, and I desired him that he would let me have it, *and he sayde, Nay.* f439 In this examination Story said, it was a great book, and asked me whether I bought it, or had it given me. I told him I bought it. Then said he, I was a thief, and had stolen my master’s money. And I said, “A little money served, for I gave him but fourpence; but I promised him that, at our next meeting, I would give twelvepence more.” And he said that was boldly done, for such a book as spoke both treason and heresy.

    Then Story required me to bring him two sureties, and watch for him that I had the book of, and I should have no harm. I made him answer, I would bring no sureties, nor could I tell where to find them. Then said he, “This is but a lie;” and so called for Cluney, and bade him lay me fast in the coalhouse, saying, he would make me tell another tale at my next coming. And so I lay in the stocks day and night, but only when I eat my meat; and there remained ten days before I was called for again.

    Then Story sent for me again, and asked me if I would yet tell him the truth. And I said, I could tell him no other truth than I had, nor would. And while I stood yet there, there were two brought, which I took to be prisoners.

    Then mistress Story fell in a rage, and sware a great oath, that it were a good deed to put a hundred or two of these heretic knaves in a house. “and I myself,” said she, “would set it on fire.” So I was committed to prison again, where I remained fourteen days, and came to no answer.

    Then Story sent for me again, and called me into the garden, and there I found with him my lord of Windsor’s chaplain, and two gentlemen more; and he told them all what I had said and done.

    They said, The book was a wondrous evil book, and had both treason and heresy in it. Then they asked me what I said by the book. And I said, “I know no evil by it.”

    At which words Story chafed, and said, he would hang me up by the hands with a rope; and said also, he would cut out my tongue, and mine ears also from my head. After this they alleged two or three things unto me out of the book. And I answered, I had not read the book throughout, and therefore I could give no judgment of the book.

    Then my lord of Windsor’s chaplain and the other two gentlemen took me aside, and entreated me very gently, saying, Tell us where you had the book, and of whom, and we will save you harmless. I made them answer, I had told all that I could to Dr. Story: and began to tell it them again, but they said, they knew that already. So they left that talk, and went again to Story with me.

    Then Story burdened me with my faith, and said I was a heretic: whereupon the chaplain asked me how I did believe. Then I began to rehearse the articles of my belief, but he bade me let that alone.

    Then he asked me how I believed in Christ. I made him answer, that I believed in Christ which died and rose again the third day, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father. Whereupon Story asked me mockingly, “What is the right hand of God?” I made him answer, “I thought it was his glory.” Then said he, “So they say all.” And he asked me when he would be weary of sitting there.

    Then inferred my lord of Windsor’s chaplain, asking me what I said by the mass. I said, I never knew what it was, nor what it meant; for I understood it not, because I never learned any Latin. And since the time that I had any knowledge I have been brought up in nothing but in reading of English, and with such men as have taught the same; with many more questions, which I cannot rehearse.

    Moreover he asked me if there were not the very body of Christ, flesh, blood and bone in the mass, after the priest had consecrated it. And I made him answer, “As for the mass, I cannot understand it; but in the New Testament I read, that as the apostles stood looking after the Lord when he ascended up into heaven, an angel said to them, ‘Even as you see him ascend up, so shall he come again.’” And I told them another sentence, where Christ saith, “The poor shall you have always with you, but me ye shall not have always.”

    Then master chaplain put to me many questions more, to the which I could make him no answer. Among all others, he brought Chrysostome and St. Jerome for his purpose. To whom I answered, that I neither minded nor was able to answer a284 their doctors, neither knew whether they alleged them right, or no; but to that which is written in the New Testament I would answer.

    Here they laughed me to scorn, and called me fool, and said, they would reason no more with me.

    Then Dr. Story called for Cluney, and bade him take me away, and set me fast, and let no man speak with me. So I was sent to the coalhouse, where I had not been a week, but there came in fourteen prisoners: but I was kept still alone without company, in a prison called the Salthouse, having upon my leg a bolt and a fetter, and my hands manacled together with irons; and there continued ten days, having nothing to lie on, but bare stones or a board.

    On a time, while I lay there in prison, the bishop of London coming down a pair of stairs on the backside untrussed, in his hose and doublet, looked in at the grate, and asked wherefore I was put in, and who put me in.

    I made him answer, that I was put in for a book called Antichrist, by Dr. Story. And he said, “You are not ashamed to declare wherefore you were put in;” and said it was a very wicked book, and bade me confess the truth to Story. I said, I had told the truth to him already; and desired him to be good unto me, and help me out of prison, for they had kept me there long. And he said, he could not meddle with it; Story hath begun it, and he must end it.

    Then I was removed out of the Salthouse to give place to two women, and carried to the Lollards’ Tower, and put in the stocks; and there I found two prisoners, one called Lion a Frenchman, and another with him: and so I was kept in the stocks more than a month both day and night, and no man to come to me, or to speak with me, but only my keeper which brought me meat.

    Thus we three being together, Lyon the Frenchman sang a psalm in the French tongue, and we sang with him, so that we were heard down into the street; and the keeper, coming up in a great rage, sware that he would put us all in the stocks; and so took the Frenchman, and commanded him to kneel down upon his knees, and put both his hands in the stocks, where he remained all that night till the next day.

    After this, I being in the Lollards’ Tower a vii. days, at my last being with Story, he sware a great oath, that he would rack me, and make me tell the truth. Then Story sending for me, commanded me to be brought to Walbrook, where he and the commissioners dined; and by the way my keeper told me that I should go to the Tower, and be racked. So when they had dined, Story called for me in, and so there I stood before them; and some said, I was worthy to be hanged for having such heretical books. After I had stood a little while before them, Story called for the keeper, and commanded him to carry me to the Lollards’ Tower again; and said, “I have other matters of the queen’s to do with the commissioners, but I will find another time for him.” Whilst I lay yet in the Lollards’ Tower, the woman which brought the books over, being taken, and her books, was put in the Clink in Southwark, by Hussey, one of the Arches; and I Thomas Green testify before God, now, that I neither descried the man nor the woman, the which I had the books of.

    Then I, lying in the Lollards’ Tower, being sent for before master Hussey, he required of me, wherefore I was put into the Lollards’ Tower, and by whom: to whom I made answer, that I was put there by Dr. Story, for a book called Antichrist. Then he made as though he would be my friend, and said he knew my friends, and my father and mother; and bade me tell him of whom I had the book, and said, “Come on, tell me the truth.” I told him as I had told Dr. Story before.

    Then he was very angry, and said, “I love thee well, and therefore I sent for thee:” and looked for a further truth, but I would tell him no other; whereupon he sent me again to the Lollards’ Tower. At my going away, he called me back again, and said that Dixon gave me the books, being an old man, dwelling in Birchinlane; and I said, he knew the matter better than I. So he sent me away to the Lollards’ Tower, where I remained a 7 days a285 and more.

    Then master Hussey sent for me again, and required of me to tell him the truth. I told him I could tell him no other truth than I had told Dr. Story before.

    Then he began to tell me of Dixon, of whom I had the books, the which had made the matter manifest afore; and he told me of all things touching Dixon and the books, more than I could myself, insomuch that he told me how many I had, and that he had a sack full of the books in his house, and knew where the woman lay, better than I myself. Then I saw the matter so open and manifest before my face, that it profited not me to stand in the matter. He asked me where I had done the books; and I told him I had but one, and that Dr. Story had. He said I lied, for I had three at one time, and he required me to tell him of one.

    Then I told him a286 of one that John Beane had of me, being prentice with master Tottie. So he promised me before and after, and as he should be saved before God, that he should have no harm.

    And I, kneeling down upon my knees, desired him to take my blood, and not to hurt the young man. Then he said, “Because you have been so stubborn, the matter being made manifest by others and not by you, being so long in prison, tell me if you will stand to my judgment.” I said, “Yea; take my blood, and hurt not the young man.”

    Then he made me answer, I should be whipped like a thief and a vagabond; and so I thanked him, and went my way with my keeper to the Lollards’ Tower, where I remained two or three days; and so was brought by the keeper, Cluney, by the commandment of the commissioners, to Christ’s hospital, sometime the Grey-Friars; and accordingly had there, for the time, the correction of thieves and vagabonds; and so was delivered to Trinian the porter, and put into a stinking dungel.

    Then in few days I, finding friendship, was let out of the dungel, and lay in a bed in the night, and walked in a yard by the dungel in the daytime, and so remained prisoner a month and more.

    Thither at length Dr. Story came, and two gentlemen with him, and called for me; and so I was brought into a counting-house before them. Then he said to the gentlemen, “Here cometh this heretic, of whom I had the book called Antichrist:” and began to tell them how many times I had been before him, and said, “I have entreated him very gently, and he would never tell me the truth, till that it was found out by others.” Then said he, “It were a good deed to cut out thy tongue, and thy ears off thy head, to make thee an example to all other heretic knaves.” And the gentlemen said, “Nay, that were pity.” Then he asked, if that I would not become an honest man; and I said, “Yes, for I have offended God many ways.” Whereupon he burdened me with my faith. I told him that I had made him answer of my faith before my lord Windsor’s chaplain, as much as I could.

    So in the end he commanded me to be stripped, he standing by me, and called for two of the beadles and the whips to whip me; and the two beadles came with a cord, and bound my hands together, and the other end of the cord to a stone pillar. Then one of my friends, called Nicholas Priestman, hearing them call for whips, hurled in a bundle of rods, which seemed something to pacify the mind of his cruelty; and so they scourged me with rods. But as they were whipping of me, Story asked me, if I would go unto my master again; and I said, Nay. And he said, “I perceive now he will be worse than ever he was before: but let me alone,” quoth he, “I will find him out, if he be in England.” And so with many other things which I cannot rehearse, when they had done whipping of me, they bade me pay my fees, and go my ways.

    Dr. Story commanded that he should have a hundred stripes, but the gentlemen so entreated, that he had not so many; Story saying, “If I might have my will, I would surely cut out his tongue.” a287 Of the scourging of master Bartlet Green, also of John Milles, and of Thomas Hinshaw, ye heard before. In like manner was ordered Stephen Cotton, burnt before at Brentford, who testifieth himself to be twice beaten by Bonner, in a letter of his written to his brother, as by the same, here following, for the more evidence may appear.

    THE COPY OF STEPHEN COTTON’S LETTER, WRITTEN TO HIS BROTHER, DECLARING HOW HE WAS BEATEN OF BISHOP BONNER.

    Brother, in the name of the Lord Jesus I commend me unto you; and I do heartily thank you for your godly exhortation and counsel in your last letter declared to me. And albeit I do perceive by your letter, you are informed, that as we are divers persons in number, so we are of contrary sects, conditions, and opinions, contrary to the good opinion you had of us at your last being with us in Newgate; be you most assured, good brother, in the Lord Jesus, we are all of one mind, one faith, one assured hope in the Lord Jesus, whom I trust we all together, with one spirit, one brotherly love, do daily call upon for mercy and forgiveness of our sins, with earnest repentance of our former lives; and by whose precious blood-shedding we trust to be saved only, and by no other means.

    Wherefore, good brother, in the name of the Lord, seeing these impudent people, whose minds are altogether bent to wickedness, envy, uncharitableness, evil speaking, do go about to slander us with untruth, believe them not, neither let their wicked sayings once enter into your mind. And I trust one day to see you again, although now I am in God’s prison, which is a joyful school to them that love their Lord God, and to me being a simple scholar most joyful of all.

    Good brother, once again I do, in the name of our Lord Jesus, exhort you to pray for me, that I may fight strongly in the Lord’s battle, to be a good soldier to my Captain, Jesus Christ our Lord, and desire my sister also to do the same. And do not ye mourn or lament for me, but be ye glad and joyful of this my trouble; for I trust to be loosed out of this dungeon shortly, and to go to everlasting joy, which never shall have end. I heard how ye were with the commissioners *for me, and how you were suspected to be one of our company:* I pray you sue no more for me, good brother. But one thing I shall desire you, to be at my departing out of this life, that you may bear witness with me that I shall die, I trust in God, a true Christian, and (I hope) all my companions in the Lord our God: and therefore believe not these evil disposed people, who are the authors of all untruth.

    I pray you provide me a long shirt against the day of our deliverance: for the shirt you gave me last, I have given to one of my companions, who had more need than I; and as for the money and meat you sent us, the bishop’s servants delivered none to us, neither he whom you had so great trust in. Brother, there is none of them to trust to, for “qualis magister, talis servus.” I have been twice beaten, and threatened to be beaten again, by the bishop himself. I suppose we shall go into the country to Fulham, to the bishop’s house, and there be arraigned. I would have you to hearken as much as you can: for when we shall go, it shall be suddenly done. Thus fare you well.

    From the Coalhouse, this present Friday.

    Your brother, Stephen Cotton .

    THE SCOURGING OF JAMES HARRIS.

    In this society, of the scourged professors of Christ, was also one James Harris, of Billericay in Essex, a stripling of the age of seventeen years; who, being apprehended and sent up to Bonner, in the company of Margaret Ellis, by sir John Mordant, knight, and Edmund Tyrrel, justices of peace (as appeareth by their own letters before mentioned), was by Bonner divers times straitly examined; in the which examinations he was charged not. to have come to his parish-church by the space of one year or more. Whereunto he granted, confessing therewithal, that once, for fear, he had been at the church, and there had received the popish sacrament of the altar; for the which he was heartily sorry, detesting the same with all his heart.

    After this and such like answers, Bonner (the better to try him) persuaded him to go to shrift. The lad, somewhat to fulfil his request, consented to go, and did. But when he came to the priest, he stood still, and said nothing. “Why,” quoth the priest, “sayest thou nothing?” “What shall I say?” said Harris. “Thou must confess thy sins,” said the priest. “My sins,” saith he, “be so many, that they cannot be numbered.” With that the priest told Bonner what he had said; and he, of his accustomed devotion, took the poor lad into his garden, and there, with a rod, gathered out of a cherry-tree, did most cruelly whip him.

    THE SCOURGING OF ROBERT WILLIAMS, A SMITH.

    Over and besides these above mentioned, was one Robert Williams, who, being apprehended in the same company, was also tormented after the like manner with rods, in Bonner’s arbor, who, there subscribing and yielding himself by promise to obey the laws, after being let go, refused so to do; whereupon he was earnestly sought for, but could not be found, for that he kept himself close, and went not abroad but by stealth. And now in the mean time of this persecution, this Robert Williams departed this life, and so escaped the hands of his enemies. The Lord therefore be honored for ever, Amen.

    And forasmuch as I have begun to write of Bonner’s scourging, by the occasion thereof cometh to mind to infer by the way, his beating of other boys and children, and drawing them naked through the nettles, in his journey rowing toward Fulham. The story although it touch no matter of religion, yet because it toucheth something the nature and disposition of that man, and may refresh the reader, wearied percase with other doleful stories, I thought not here to omit.

    BONNER CAUSETH CERTAIN BOYS TO BE BEATEN.

    Bonner, passing from London to Fulham by barge, having John Milles and Thomas Hinshaw above mentioned with him, both prisoners for religion, by the way as he went by water, was saying evensong with Harpsfield his chaplain in the barge, and being about the middle of their devout orisons, they espied a sort of young boys swimming and washing themselves in the Thames over against Lambeth, or a little above: unto whom he went, and gave very gentle language and fair speech, until he had set his men a land.

    That done, his men ran after the boys to get them, as the bishop commanded them before, beating some with nettles, drawing some through bushes of nettles naked; and some they made leap into the Thames to save themselves, that it was marvel they were not drowned.

    Now as the children for fear did cry, and as this skirmishing was between them, immediately came a greater lad thither, to know what the matter meant, that the boys made such a noise; whom when the bishop espied, he asked him whether he would maintain them in their doings or no. Unto whom the young fellow made answer stoutly, Yea. Then the bishop commanded him to be taken also; but he ran away with speed, and thereby avoided the bishop’s blessing. Now when the bishop saw him to flee away, and another man sitting upon a rail in the way where he ran, he willed him likewise to stop the boy; and because he would not, he commanded his men to fetch that man to him also: but he, hearing that, ran away as fast as he could, and by leaping over the ditch, escaped the bishop in like manner.

    Then the bishop, seeing the success of his battle to prove no better, cried to a couple of ferry-boys to run, and hold him that last ran away. And for that they said they could not (as indeed it was true), therefore he caused his men by and by to take and beat them. The boys, hearing that, leapt into the water to save themselves; notwithstanding they were caught, and in the water by the bishop’s men, were holden and beaten.

    Now, after the end of this great skirmish a288 , the bishop’s men returned to their master again into the barge, and he, and Harpsfield, his chaplain, went to their evensong afresh, where they left; and so said forth a289 the rest of their service, as clean without malice, as an egg without meat. The Lord give him repentance (if it be his will), and grace to become a new man! Amen.

    THE WHIPPING OF A BEGGAR AT SALISBURY.

    Unto these above specified, is also to be added the miserable whipping of a certain poor starved sely beggar, who, because he would not receive the sacrament at Easter in the. town of Collingborough, was brought to Salisbury with bills and gleives to the chancellor, Dr. Jeffery, who cast him into the dungeon, and after caused him miserably to be whipped of two catch-poles; the sight whereof made all godly hearts to rue it, to see such tyranny to be showed upon such a simple and sely wretch: for they which saw him have reported, that they never saw a more simple creature. But what pity can move the. hearts of merciless papists?

    Besides these above named, divers others also suffered the like scourgings and whippings in their bodies, for their faithful standing in the truth; of whom it may be said, as it is written of the apostles in the Acts: “Which departed from the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer for the name of Jesus.” (Acts 5.) *Si fas caedendo coelestia scandere cuiquam est, Papicolis coeli maxima porta patet. f442* ANOTHER TREATISE OF SUCH AS BEING PURSUED A290 IN QUEEN MARY’S TIME, WERE IN GREAT DANGER; AND YET, THROUGH THE GOOD PROVIDENCE OF GOD, MERCIFULLY WERE PRESERVED.

    Although the secret purpose of Almighty God, which disposeth all things, suffered a great number of his faithful servants, both men and women, and that of all ages and degrees, to fall into the enemies’ hands, and to abide the brunt of this persecution, to be tried with rods, with whips, with racks, with fetters, famine, with burning of hands, with plucking off beards, with burning also both hand, beard, and body, etc.; yet notwithstanding some there were again, and that a great number, who miraculously, by the merciful providence of God, against all men’s expectation, in safety were delivered out of the fiery rage of this persecution, either by voiding the realm, or shifting of place, or the Lord so blinding the eyes of the persecutors, or disposing the opportunity of time, or working some such means or other for his servants, as not only ought to stir them up to perpetual thanks, but also may move all men both to behold and magnify the wondrous works of the Almighty.

    About what time it began to be known that queen Mary was sick, divers good men were in hold in divers quarters of the realm; some at Bury, some at Salisbury: as John Hunt and Richard White, of whom we have storied before, and some at London, amongst whom were William Living with his wife, and John Lithal, of whom something remaineth now compendiously to be touched.

    THE TROUBLE AND DELIVERANCE OF WILLIAM LIVING WITH HIS WIFE, AND OF JOHN LITHAL, MINISTERS.

    About the time of the latter end of queen Mary, she then being sick, came one Cox a promoter, to the house of William Living, about six of the clock, accompanied with one John Launee of the Grey-hound.

    They being not ready, they demanded for buttons, saying they should be as well paid for them, as ever was any; and he would come again, about three hours after, for them. In the mean while he had gotten the constable, called master Dean, and George Hancock the beadle of that ward, and searching his books, found a book of astronomy, called “ The work of Johannes de Sacro Bosco , a291 ‘de Sphaera,’” with figures, some round, some triangle, some quadrate; which book, because it was gilted, seemed to him the chiefest book there; and that he carried open in the street, saying, “I have found him at length. It is no marvel *though* the queen be sick, seeing there be such conjurers in *so* privy corners; but now, I trust, he shall conjure no more:” and so brought him and his wife from Shoe-lane, through Fleet-street, into Paul’s churchyard, with the constable, the beadle, and two other following them, till they were entered into Darbishire’s house, who was Bishop Bonner’s chancellor: and after the constable and they had talked with Darbishire, he came forth, and walked in his yard, saying these words: Darbishire: — “What is your name?” Living: — “William Living.” Darbishire: — “What are you? a priest?” Living: — “Yea.” Darbishire: — “Is this your wife, that is come with you?” Living: — “That she is.” Darbishire: — “Where were you made priest?” Living: — “At Aubourn.” Darbishire: — “In what bishop’s days?” Living: — “By the bishop of Lincoln, that was king Henry’s ghostly father in cardinal Wolsey’s time.” Darbishire: — “You are a schismatic and a traitor.” Living: — “I would be sorry that were true. I am certain I never was traitor, but always have taught obedience, according to the tenor of God’s word; and when tumults and schisms have been stirred, I have preached God’s word, and suaged them, as in the time of king Edward.” Darbishire: — “What, you are a schismatic. You be not in the unity of the catholic church: for you pray not as the church of Rome doth.

    You pray in English.” Living: — “We are certain we be in the true church.” Darbishire: — “There be that doubt thereof, forsomuch as there is but one true church. Well, you will learn against I talk with you again, to know the church of Rome, and to be a member thereof.” Living: — “If the church of Rome be of that church whereof Christ is the head, then am I a member thereof; for I know no other church but that.” Darbishire: — “Well, Cluney, take him with thee to the coalhouse.”

    Then called he Cluney again, and spoke secretly to him; what, I know not.

    Then said Cluney, “Wilt thou not come?” and so plucked me away violently, and brought me to his own house in Paternoster-row, where he robbed me of my purse, my girdle, and my Psalter, and a New Testament of Geneva ; a292 and then brought me to the coalhouse, to put me in the stocks, saying, “Put in both your legs and your hands also; and except you fine with me, I will put a collar about your neck.” “What is the fine?” quoth I. “Forty Shillings,” quoth he: “I am never able to pay it,” said I. “Then,” said he, “you have friends that be able.” I denied it; and so he put both my legs into the stocks till supper-time, which was six of the clock; and then a cousin of my wife’s brought me meat, who, seeing me to sit there, said, “I will give you forty pence, and let him go at liberty.” And he took her money, and presently let. me forth in her sight, to eat my supper. And at seven of the clock, he put me into the stocks again; and so I remained till two of the clock the next day, and so he let me forth till night. This woman above mentioned, was Griffin’s first wife, a brother dwelling then in Aldermanbury, and yet alive in Cheapside.

    The Thursday following at afternoon was I called to the Lollards’ Tower, and there put in the stocks, having the favor to put my leg in that hole that master John Philpot’s leg was in; and so lay all that night, nobody coming to me, either with meat or drink.

    At eleven of the clock on the Friday, Cluney came to me with meat, and let me forth, and about one of the clock he brought me to Darbishire’s house, who drew forth a scroll of names, and asked me if I knew none of them: I said, I know none of them but Foster.

    And so I kneeled down upon my knees, and prayed him that he would not inquire thereof any further. And with that came forth two godly women, which said, “Master Darbishire, it is enough;” and so became sureties for me, and paid to Cluney fifteen shillings for my fees, and bade me go with them.

    And thus much concerning William Living. After this came his wife to examination, whose answers to Darbishire the chancellor, here likewise follow.

    THE EXAMINATION OF JULIAN LIVING, WIFE TO WILLIAM LIVING. Darbishire: — “Ah sirrah; I see by your gown, you be one of the sisters.” Julian: — “I wear not my gown for sisterhood, neither for nunnery, but to keep me warm.” Darbishire: — “Nun! No, I dare say you be none. Is that man your husband?” Julian: — “Yea.” Darbishire: — “He is a priest.” Julian: — “No, he saith no mass.” Darbishire: — “What then? he is a priest. How darest thou marry him!”

    Then he showed me a roll of certain names of citizens. To whom I answered, I knew none of them.

    Then said he, “You shall be made to know them.”

    Then said I, “Do no other but justice and right; for the day will come, that you shall answer for it.” Darbishire: — “Why, woman, thinkest thou not that I have a soul?” Julian: — “Yes, I know you have a soul: but whether it be to salvation or damnation, I cannot tell.” Darbishire: — “O, Cluney! have her to the Lollards’ Tower.” And so he took me, and carried me to his house, where was one Dale, a promoter, which said to me, “Alas, good woman, wherefore be you here?” “What is that to you?” said I. “You be not ashamed,” quoth Dale, “to tell wherefore you came hither.” “No,” quoth I, “that I am not; for it is for Christ’s testament.” “Christ’s testament!” quoth he, “It is the devil’s testament.” “O Lord,” quoth I, “God forbid that any man should speak any such word.” “Well, well,” quoth he, “you shall be ordered well enough. You care not for burning,” quoth he, “God’s blood! there must be some other means found for you.” “What,” quoth I, “will you find any worse than you have found?” f445 “Well,” quoth he, “you hope, and you hope: a293 but your hope shall be aslope. For though the queen fail, she that you hope for shall never come at it: for there is my lord cardinal’s grace, and many more between her and it.” “Then,” quoth I, “my hope is in none but God.”

    Then said Cluney, “Come with me:” and so went I to the Lollards’ Tower. On the next day Darbishire sent for me again, and inquired again of those citizens that he inquired of before. I answered, I knew them not. “Where were you,” quoth he, “at the communion on Sunday was fortnight?” And I said, “In no place.”

    Then the constable of St. Bride’s being there, made suit for me; and Darbishire demanded of him, if he would be bound for me. He answered, Yea, and so he was bound for my appearance betwixt that and Christmas.

    Then Darbishire said, “You be constable, and should give her good counsel.” “So do I,” quoth he, “for I bid her go to mass, and to say as you say. For, by the mass, if you say the crow is white, I will say so too.”

    And thus much concerning the examination of William Living and his wife, whom although thou seest here delivered, through the request of women, his sureties; yet it was no doubt, but that the deadly sickness of queen Mary abated and bridled then the cruelty of those papists, which otherwise would never have let them go. *But yet the archdeacon of Canterbury would remit nothing of his extreme tyranny, in burning those five, above named, at Canterbury.

    And thus hast thou, gentle reader, through the merciful aid and supportation of Christ our Lord most favorably assisting us in the same, the full history and discourse, with the names and places, of all the godly martyrs who suffered, both in the time of queen Mary, and also before, for the true reformation of Christ’s church; which, after the blood of so many saints, the Lord at length hath given us, to whom there-for be praise for ever, Amen.

    This done, next followeth consequently now to be seen, the general and ordinary certificatory of the bishops, which they used to send up to the prince, at their condemning of Christ’s innocent servants to death; whereunto we have annexed also the writ, given down from the prince to the sheriffs and officers, for the burning of the same.

    A CERTIFICATE [FROM THE BISHOP TO THE SOVEREIGN].

    Excellentissimis et illustrissimis in Christo principibus, Philippo et Mariae, - Dei gratia regi et reginae Augliae, Franciae, Neapolis, Hierusalem, et Hiberniae, fidei defensoribus, principibus Hispaniarum et Siciliae, archiducibus Austriae, ducibus Mediolani, Burgundiae, et Brabantiae, comitibus Haspurgi, Flandriae, et Tyrolis, vester humilis et devotus, permissione divina episcopus N., reverentiam, obedientiam, ac salutem in Eo, per quem reges regnant et principes dominantur. Quia per acta inactitata coram nobis in quodam hereticae pravitatis negotio contra N. [nostrarum] dioecesis et jurisdictionis, nuper, et per suas confessiones, in hac parte in judicio respective habita, facta, et emissa, cornperirmus et invenimus luculenter eundum fuisse et esse hereticum et hereticae pravitatis scelere innodatum et involutm, eo praesertim quod contra veram Christi corporis in eucharistia praesentiam multipliciter et saepe damnata dogmata tenuisset et defendisset, ac in eodem scelere pertinaciter stetisset et continuaset, nulla poenitentiae signa in ea parte aliquo modo ostendendo; ac ob id eundem manifestum, obstinatum et pertinacem, incorrigibilem et impoenitentem haereticum fuiisse et esse, ac poena haeresis puniendum et seculari potestati tradendum fore, inter caetera, per nostram sententiam diffinitivam in ea parte judicialiter in scriptis latam et promulgatam pronunciavimus et declaravimus; necnon ipsum provido viro N., uni vicecomitum vestrae civitatis N., ad hoc una nobiscum et cum majore dictae vestrae civitatis N. in judicio personaliter presenti, juxta juris exigentiam reliquimus et tradidimus: vestrae igitur Regiae Majestati excellentissimae tenore praesentium significamus, innotescimus, et certificamus, omnia et singula praemissa sic per nos fuisse et esse gesta et facta, et veritatem in se omnino habere et continere: supplicantes nihilominus, et in visceribus Jesu Christi obsecrantes, ut severitatis ultio et severa executio, quae ex legibus et more regni vestri in hoc casu fieri et haberi solet et consuevit, sic mitigetur, ut idem charitative reformetur, et ejus delicta (quatenus fieri potest) cum omni mansuetudine et lenitate corrigantur; sic quod rigor non sit valde rigidus, et quod clementia omnino sit ad salutem, metumque aliis incutiat a similibus sceleribus abstinendi, potius quam fiduciam praebeat dicta scelera perpetrandi. In cujus rei testimonium sigillum nostrum praesentibus apponi fecimus.

    Datum N. die mensis , anno Domini secundum computationera ecclesiae Anglicanae, etc.

    A NOTE OR SCHOLIE UPON THIS CERTIFICATE ABOVE MENTIONED.

    Note, good reader, in this certificate above written, the crafty and cruel hypocrisy and hypocritical cruelty of these, dissembling prelates. First, by their sentence they condemn the poor innocents, and give them to the secular power; then, by their canon they themselves prescribe the secular power to burn them: and yet here, in this certificate, before the king and queen they put on a visor of clemency, making as they, from the inward bowels of their heart, would make intercession for their lives, when they mean nothing else indeed but their death. If the pope, with his popelings, would not the rigor of the law to be showed, why doth he so charge them in his canon to burn them? why be the prelates so busy to attach them? so inquisitive to entrap them? so hasty to condemn them? so insulting and insolent upon them being condemned, as Bonner was to Tankerfield and to a jerkin-maker — bidding one of them now go make pies, the other to make jerkins, when he had condemned them?

    Contrary, if the pope with his papists do (as they do indeed), and mean nothing else than to make havoc of God’s people, why then would they have the world believe as though they wrought all with clemency and pity, desiring the superior powers to remit the rigor and sharpness of their swords? — when, in very deed, they themselves thrust them violently upon the sword, for them to chop off their necks.

    BREVE REGIUM, A294 DIRECTUM PRO HAERETICIS COMBURENDIS.

    Philippus et Maria, Dei gratia rex et regina Angliae Hispaniarum, Franciae, utriusque Siciliae, Hierusalem, et Hiberniae, fidei defensores, archiduces Austriae, duces Burgundiae Mediolani, et Brabantiae comites Haspurgi, Flandriae, et Tyrolis, vicecomiti M. salutem. Cum reverendus in Christo pater, Edmundus London. episcopus, S. T. R. D. et R. P., suae dioecesis, in causa haereticae pravitatis ex officio suo legitime procedens, haereticos manifestos pronunciaverit et declaraverit, ipsosque foro seculari relinquendos fore decreverit et realiter reliquit, juxta leges et sanctiones in hac parte editas, prout per literas suas nobis inde directas plenius apparet et continetur: — nos, igitur, ut zelatores justitiae et fidei catholicae defensores, considerantes quod sancta mater ecclesia non habet ulterius quod faciat in praemissis, volentes ipsam sanctam matrem ecclesiam ac jura et libertates ejusdem manutenere et defendere, ac hujusmodi haereses et errores de regno nostro Angliae, quantum in nobis est, radicitus extirpare, ac haereticos, sic convictos, animadversione condigna punire; attendentesque hujusmodi haereticos, sic convictos ac damnatos, juxta legem et consuetudinem regni nostri Angliae ignis incendio comburi debere; tibi praecipimus (firmiter in jungentes) quod praefatos etc., statim post receptionem praesentium, apud villam nostram de B., infra comitatum praedictum, ubi magis expedire videris, coram populo igni committi, et in eodem igne realiter comburi facias, in hujusmodi criminis detestationem, aliorumque Christianorum exemplum manifestum; et hoc sub periculo incumbente nullatenus omittas.

    Testibus nobismetipsis, apud Westmonasterium, 13 die [Julii], annis regnorum nostrorum quarto et sexto.

    Marten.

    Inscriptio Vicecomiti M., de haereticis comburendis.* THE TROUBLE AND DELIVERANCE OF JOHN LITHALL At the taking of William Living, it happened that certain of his books were in the custody of one John Lithall; which known, the constable of the ward of Southwark, with other of the queen’s servants, were sent to his house, who, breaking open his doors and chests, took away not only the books of the said William Living, but also all his own books, writings, and bills of debts, which he never had again. All this while Lithall was not at home.

    The next Saturday after, as he was returned, and known to be at home, John Avales and certain of the queen’s servants beset his house all the night with such careful watch, that as he in the morning issued out of doors, thinking to escape their hands, John Avales, suddenly bursting out upon him, cried, “Stop the traitor! stop the traitor!” whereat Lithall being amazed, looked back.

    And so John Avales came running to him, with other that were with him, saying, “Ah, sirrah! you are a pretty traitorly fellow indeed; we have had somewhat to do to get you.” To whom he answered, that he was a truer man to the queen’s majesty than he: “for you,” said he, “are commanded by God to keep holy the sabbath-day, and you seek to shed your neighbor’s blood on the sabbath-day. Remember that you must answer there-for to God.” But he said, “Come on, you villain! you must go before the council.” So was Lithall brought into Paul’s church-yard to the bishop’s chancellor, by John Avales, saying, that he had there caught the captain of these fellows; and so caused him to be called to examination before Dr. Darbishire, who entered talk with him in this wise: Bishop’s Chancellor: — “What countryman are you?” Lithall: — “I am an Englishman, born in Staffordshire.” Chancellor: — “Where were you brought up?” Lithall: — “In this our country of England.” Chancellor: — “In what university?” Lithall: — “In no university, but in a free-school.” Chancellor: — “We have had certain books from your house, and writings, wherein are both treason and heresy.” Lithall: — “Sir, there is neither treason nor heresy in them.”

    Then he asked for certain other men that I knew. Lithall: — “If you have aught to lay to my charge, I will answer it: but 1 will have no other man’s blood upon my head.” Chancellor: — “Why come you not to the church? Of what church be you, that you come not to your own parish-church?” Lithall: — “I am of the church of Christ, the fountain of all goodness.” Chancellor: — “Have you no ministers of your church, but Christ?” Lithall: — “We have others.” Chancellor: — “Where be they?” Lithall: — “In the whole world, dispersed, preaching and professing the gospel and faith only in our Savior .Jesus, as he commanded them.” Chancellor: — “You boast much, every one of you, of your faith and belief; let me hear therefore the effect, how you believe.” Lithall: — “I believe to be justified really by Christ Jesus, according to the saying of St. Paul to the Ephesians, without either deeds or works, or any thing that may be invented by man.” Chancellor: — “Faith cannot save without works.” Lithall: — “That is contrary to the doctrine of the apostles.” Chancellor: — “John Avales! you and the keeper have this fellow to prison.”

    Then John Avales and Cluney the keeper had me into Paul’s, and would have had me to have seen the apostles’ mass. Lithall: — “I know none the apostles had, and therefore I will see none.” Cluney and John Avales: — “Come and kneel down before the rood, and say a Pater-noster, and an Ave in the worship of the five wounds.” Lithall: — “I am forbidden by God’s own mouth to kneel to any idol or image: therefore I will not.”

    Then they pulled me with great extremity, the one having me by one arm, and the other by the other; but God gave me at that present time more strength than both these, his name be praised for it.

    Then, when they could not make me to kneel before the rood, neither to see the mass, there gathered a great company about us, and all against me. Some spat on me, and said, “Fie on thee, heretic!” and others said, It was pity I was not burned already.

    Then they carried me to Lollards’ Tower, and hanged me in a great pair of stocks, in which I lay three days and three nights, till I was so lame that I could neither stir nor move.

    Then I offered the keeper certain money and gold that I had about me, to release me out of the stocks: and he said, I would not be ruled by him, either to see mass, or to kneel before the rood, and therefore I should lie there still. But I said, I would never do the thing that should be against my conscience: and though you have lamed my body, yet my conscience is whole, I praise God for it.

    So, shortly after, he let me out of the stocks, more for the love of my money (as it may be thought), than for any other affection; and within four or five days my wife got leave of master chancellor to come to me, to bring me such things as were needful for me; and there I lay five weeks and odd days, in the which time divers of my neighbors and friends made suit to the chancellor for my deliverance: the bishop, as they said, at that time being at Fulham, sick. So my neighbors being there, about twenty of them, the chancellor sent: for me out: of the Lollards’ Tower to his own house, and said as followeth: Chancellor: — “Lithall! here be of thy neighbors which have been with me to entreat for thee; and they have informed me, that thou hast been a very honest and quiet neighbor among them, and I think it be God’s will that I should deliver thee before my lord come home. For if he come, and thou go home again, I will be burned for thee: for I know his mind already in that matter.” Lithall: — “I give you hearty thanks for your gentleness, and my neighbors for their good report.” Chancellor: — “Lithall, if thy neighbors will be bound for thy forthcoming whensoever thou shalt be called for; and also if thou wilt be an obedient subject, I shall be content to deliver thee.” Neighbors: — “If it please your worship, we will be bound for him in body and goods.” Chancellor: — “I will require no such bond of you, but that two of you will be bound in twenty pounds a piece, that he shall come to answer when he shall be called.” Lithall: — “Where find you, master chancellor, in all the Scriptures, that the church of God did bind any man for the profession of his faith? which profession you have heard of me, that all our justification, righteousness, and salvation, cometh only and freely by the merits of our Savior Jesus Christ; and all the inventions and works of men, be they never so glorious, be altogether vain, as the wise man saith.” Chancellor: — “Lo, where he is now! I put no such matter to you; for in that I believe as you do: but yet St. James saith, that a man is justified by works.” Lithall: — “St. James spoke to them that boasted themselves of faith; and showed no works of faith: but, O master chancellor! remember, I pray you, how all the promises and prophecies of the holy Scripture, even from the first promise that God made to Adam, and so even to the latter end of the Revelation of St. John, do testify that in the name of Jesus, and only by his merits, all that believe shall be saved from all their sins and offences. Esaias saith, ‘I am found of them that sought me not, and am manifest to them that asked not after me:’(Chapter 65.) but against Israel he saith, ‘All day long have I stretched out my hand to a people that believe not.’ And when the jailer- asked St. Paul, what he should do to be saved, the apostle said, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be saved, and all thy household.’ (Acts 16.) Again, St. John saith in the Revelation, that there was none, neither in heaven nor in earth, neither under the earth, that was able to open the book or the seals thereof, but only the Lamb Jesus, our only Savior. And St. Paul saith, ‘With one offering hath he made perfect for ever them that are sanctified.’ (Hebrews 9.)” Chancellor: — “With vain glory you rehearse much Scripture, as all the sort of you do: but you have no more understanding than a many of sheep. But to the purpose: Will you that your neighbors shall enter into bonds for you, or not?” Lithall: — “By my mind, they shall not. Wherefore I desire you that you would not bind me, but let me serve God with my conscience freely; for it is written, ‘They that lead into captivity, shall go into captivity; and they that strike with the sword shall perish with the sword.’ (Revelation 13.) Also it is written in the gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ, ‘That whoso doth offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were cast into the depth of the sea,’ (Matthew 18.) of the which I am assured by his Holy Spirit that I am one.

    Wherefore be you well assured that such mercy as you show, unto you shall be showed the like.” Chancellor: — “You are a mad man. I would not bind you, but that I must needs have somewhat to show for your deliverance.” Then he called two of my neighbors, Thomas Daniel and Saunders Maybe, which offered themselves to be bound; and called me before them, and said, “I have a letter of his own hand-writing, with his name and seal at it, with a book also against the regiment of women, for the which I could make him to be hanged, drawn, and quartered; but, on my faith, I will him no more hurt, than I mean to my own soul.” Lithall: — “I desire you that be my neighbors and friends, that you will not enter into bonds for me; for you know not the danger thereof, neither I myself. It goeth against my conscience that ye should so do.” Chancellor: — “Why, I will not bind you to do any thing against your conscience.”

    Then they made the bond and sealed to it, and willed me that I should seal to it also; and I said that I would not, neither could I observe the bond, and therefore I would not set to my hand. Chancellor: — “It is pity that thou hast so much favor showed thee: yet for these honest men’s sakes I will discharge thee.”

    Notwithstanding all these dissembling words of master Darbishire, pretending for favor of his sureties, to set him at liberty, it was no such thing, nor any zeal of charity that moved him so to do; but only fear of the time, understanding the dangerous and unrecoverable sickness of queen Mary, which then began somewhat to assuage the cruel proceeding of these persecutors, whereby they durst not do that they would: for else, Lithall was not like to have escaped so easily.

    EDWARD GREW, A PRIEST.

    Moreover, there was one Edward Grew, priest, and Appline, his wife, compelled to fly from their dwelling at a town called Broke; and the man being very aged, traveled abroad to keep a good conscience.

    At the last, he was taken and laid in Colchester Castle, where he remained till queen Elizabeth came to her regal seat, and by the alteration of religion he was delivered. His wife (good woman) was in great care for him, and to her power did what she could to succor him.

    WILLIAM BROWNE, PARSON OF LITTLE STONHAM.

    William Browne, parson of Little Stonham, *or alias Stanham Jerningham,* in the county of Suffolk, made a sermon in the said town *continently a295 * after the burial of our good king Edward, and in his sermon he said, “There goeth a report that our good king is buried with a mass by the bishop of Winchester, he having a miter upon his head. But if it were so,” saith he, “they are all traitors that so do; because it is both against the truth, and the laws of this realm; and it is great idolatry and blasphemy, and against the glory of God; and they are no friends neither to God, the king, nor yet unto the realm, that so do.” For this his preaching, one Robert Blomefield, an adversary to the truth, being then constable of the said town, and bailiff unto sir John Jerningham knight (the chief lord of that town), immediately rode forth, and brought home with him one Edward Golding, which was then under-sheriff, sir Thomas Cornwallis being then high-sheriff. a296 So the said Golding and Blomefield sent for certain men of the said town, and examined them for the sermon; whereunto they made but a small answer. Then the sheriff made a bill, and so feared the men, that two or three of them set to their hands, and one of them never joyed after, but it was a grief to him till he died.

    Then did they take men with them unto the parson’s house, and in the night they took him, and with watchmen kept him until it was day. Then should he have been carried the next day to the council; but the said Robert Blomefield was taken so sick, that he was like to die, so that he could not carry him for his life. Then the said sheriff sent him to Ipswich again, and there he was for a time. Then he was sent to Bury prison, and from thence to the council, and then into the Fleet: and so he lay in prison from the beginning of harvest till it was nigh Christmas, and said, God gave him such answers to make when he was examined, that he was delivered with quietness of conscience. And having his liberty, he came again unto the aforesaid town; and because he would not go to mass, his living was taken away, and he and his wife were constrained to fly here and there for life and conscience. In the last year of queen Mary’s reign God did take him out of this life in peace.

    Where moreover is to be noted, that this Robert Blomefield above-named, *continently* after he had apprehended the said Browne, fell very sick; and though at that time he was a wealthy man and of a great substance (beside his land, which was better than twenty pound a year), after this time God so plagued his household, that his eldest son died, and his wife had a pining sickness till she departed this life also.

    Then married he another, a richer widow; but all would not help, and nothing would prosper: for he had a sore pining sickness, being full of botches and sores, whereby he wasted away both in body and goods, till he died.

    So when he died, he was above ninescore pounds in debt, and it was never heard of any repentance he had. But a little before his death he bragged, and threatened a good man, one Simon Hadston, to put him forth to the officers, because he did wear no surplice when he said service: wherefore it is pity such baits of popery are left to the enemies, to take Christians in.

    God take them away, or else us from them! for God knoweth they be the cause of much blindness and strife amongst men.

    Furthermore, out of the said town were constrained to fly Robert Boela a297 and John Trapne, because they would not go to mass and receive their sacrament of the altar.

    ELIZABETH YOUNG.

    Ye heard before, in the treatise of the scourging of Thomas Green, how he was troubled and beaten by Dr. Story, for a certain book called “Antichrist” which he received of a woman, because in no case he would detect her. This woman was one Elizabeth Young, who, coming from Embden to England, brought with her divers books, and dispersed them abroad in London; for the which she, being at length espied and laid fast, was brought to examination thirteen times before the catholic inquisitors of heretical pravity: of the which her examinations, nine have come to our hands; wherein how fiercely she was assaulted, how shamefully she was reviled, how miserably handled, and what answers she made unto the adversaries in her own defense; and finally, after all this, how she escaped and passed through the pikes (being yet, as I hear say, alive), as I thought to give the reader here to see and understand.

    THE FIRST EXAMINATION OF ELIZABETH YOUNG, BEFORE MASTER HUSSEY.

    Master Hussey examined her of many things: first, where she was born, who was her father and mother. Elizabeth Young: — “Sir, all this is but vain talk, and very superfluous. It is to fill my head with fantasies, that I should not be able to answer unto such things as I came for. Ye have not (I think) put me in prison to know who is my father and mother. But I pray you go to the matter that I came hither for.” Hussey: — “Wherefore wentest thou out of the realm?” Elizabeth: — “To keep my conscience clean.” Hussey: .-” When wast thou at mass?” Elizabeth: — “Not these three years.” Hussey: — - ” Then wast thou not there three years before that?” Elizabeth: — “No, sir, nor yet three years before that: for if I were, I had evil luck.” Hussey: — “How old art thou?” Elizabeth: — “Forty and upwards.” Hussey: — - ” Twenty of those years thou wentest to mass.” Elizabeth: — “Yea and twenty more I may, and yet come home as wise as I went thither first; for I understand it not.” Hussey: — “Why wilt thou not go to the mass?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, my conscience will not suffer me; for I had rather all the world should accuse me, than mine own conscience.” Hussey: — “What if a louse or a flea stick upon thy skin, and bite thy flesh? thou must make a conscience in taking her off: is there not a conscience in it?” Elizabeth: — “That is but an easy argument to displace the Scriptures, and especially in such a part as my salvation dependeth upon: for it is but an easy conscience, that a man can make.” Hussey: — “But why wilt thou not swear upon the evangelists before a judge?” Elizabeth: — “Because I know not what a book-oath is.”

    Then he began to teach her the book-oath. Elizabeth: — “Sir, I do not understand it, and therefore I will not learn it.”

    Then said he, “Thou wilt not understand it:” and with that he rose up and went his way.

    THE SECOND EXAMINATION, BEFORE DR. MARTIN.

    Dr. Martin said to her, “Woman, thou art come from beyond the sea, and hast brought with thee books of heresy and treason, and thou must confess to us, who translated them, printed them, and who sent the mover (for once I knew thee to be but a messenger), and in so doing the queen’s highness will be good to thee (for she hath forgiven greater things than this), and thou shalt find as much favor as is possible. But if thou be stubborn, and wilt not confess, thou wilt be wondrous evil handled; for we know the truth already: but this we do, only to see whether thou wilt be true of thy word or no.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, ye have my confession, and more than that I cannot say.” Martin: — “Thou must say more, and shalt say more. Dost thou think that we will be fully answered by this examination that thou hast made? Thou rebel whore and traitor heretic! thou dost refuse to swear upon the evangelists before a judge, I hear say. Thou shalt be racked inch-meal, thou traitorly whore and heretic! but thou shalt swear before a judge before thou go: yea, and thou shalt be made to confess how many books thou hast sold, and to whom.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I understand not what an oath is, and therefore I will take no such thing upon me. And no man hath bought any books of me as yet, for those books that I had, your commissioners have them all. Martin: — “Thou traitorly whore! we know that thou hast sold a number of books, yea, and to whom; and how many times thou hast been here, and where thou liest, and every place that thou hast been in.

    Dost thou think that thou hast fools in hand?” Elizabeth: — “No, sir, ye be too wise for me; for I cannot tell how many places I have been in myself. But if it were in Turkey, I should have meat and drink and lodging for my money.” Martin: — “Thou rebel whore! thou hast spoken evil words by the queen, and thou dwellest amongst a sort of traitors and rebels, that cannot give the queen a good word.” Elizabeth: — “I am not able to accuse any man thereof, neither yet is there any man that can prove any such things by me, as ye lay unto my charge. For I know by God’s word, and God’s book hath taught me, what is my duty to God, and unto my queen, and therefore (as I said) I am assured that no man living upon the earth, can prove any such things by me.” Martin: — “Thou rebel and traitorly whore, thou shalt be so racked and handled, that thou shalt be an example to all such traitorly whores and heretics; and thou shalt be made to swear by the holy evangelists, and confess to whom thou hast sold all and every one of these heretical books that thou hast sold: for we know what number thou hast sold and to whom; but thou shalt be made to confess it in spite of thy blood.” Elizabeth: — “Here is my carcass: do with it what you will. And more than that, you cannot have, master Martin; ye can have no more but my blood.”

    Then fared he a298 as though he had been stark mad, and said, “Martin! why callest thou me Martin?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I know well enough: for I ‘have been before you ere now. Ye delivered me once at Westminster.” Martin: — “Where didst thou dwell then?” Elizabeth: — “I dwelt in the Minories.” Martin: — “I delivered thee and thy husband both; and I thought then, that thou wouldest have done otherwise than thou dost now. For if thou hadst been before any bishop in England, and said the words that thou didst before me, thou hadst fried a faggot: and though thou didst not burn then, thou art like to burn or hang now.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I promised you then, that I would never be fed with an unknown tongue, and no more will I yet.” Martin: — “I shall feed thee well enough. Thou shalt be fed with that (I warrant thee) which shall be smally to thine ease.” Elizabeth: — “Do what God shall suffer you to do: for more ye shall not.” And then he arose, and so departed, and went to the keeper’s house, and said to the wife, “Whom hast thou suffered to come to this vile traitorly whore and heretic, to speak with her?” Then said the keeper’s wife, “As God receive my soul, here came neither man, woman, nor child, to ask for her.” Martin: — “If any man, woman, or child, come to ask for her, I charge thee, in pain of death, that they be laid fast; and give her one day bread, and another day water.” Elizabeth: — “If ye take away my meat, I trust that God will take away my hunger.”

    And so he departed and said, “that was too good for her:” and then was she shut up under two locks in the Clink where she was before.

    THE THIRD EXAMINATION BEFORE DR. MARTIN AGAIN.

    Then was she brought before him in his chamber, within my lord chancellor’s house, who asked her, saying, “Elizabeth, wilt thou confess these things that thou hast been examined upon? for thou knowest that I have been thy friend; and in so doing, I will be thy friend again:” giving her many fair words, and then demanding of her how many gentlemen were beyond the seas. Elizabeth: — “It is too much for me to tell you how many are on the other side.” Martin: — “No, I mean but in Frankfort and Eraden, where thou hast been.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I did never take account of them; it is a thing that I look not for.” Martin: — “When shall I hear a true word come out of thy mouth?” Elizabeth: — “I have told you the truth; but because that it soundeth not to your mind, therefore ye will not credit it.” Martin: — “Wilt thou yet confess? and if thou wilt, that that I have promised, I will do: and if thou wilt not, I promise thee thou must go even hence to the rack; and therefore confess.” Elizabeth: — “I can say no more than I have said.” Martin: — “Well, forasmuch as she will confess no more, have her away to the rack, and then she will be marred.” Then answered a priest that sat there, and said, “Woman, take an oath, and confess. Wilt thou be hurt for other men?” Elizabeth: — “I can confess no more than I have. Do with my carcase what ye will.” Martin: — “Did ye ever hear the like of this heretic? What a stout heretic is this? We have the truth, and we know the truth, and yet look whether she will confess. There is no remedy but she must needs to the rack, and therefore away with her:” and so commanded her out of the door, and called her keeper unto him, and said to him, “There is no remedy but this heretic must be racked;” and talked with him more, but what it was she heard not.

    Then he called her in again, and said, “Wilt thou not confess, and keep thee from the rack? I advise thee so to do: for if thou wilt not, thou knowest not the pain thereof yet, but thou shalt do.” Elizabeth: — “I can confess no more. Do with my carcase what ye will.” Martin: — “Keeper, away with her; thou knowest what I said: let her know the pain of the rack!” And so she departed, thinking no less, but that she should have gone to the rack, till she saw the keeper turn toward the Clink again.

    And thus did God alienate their hearts, and diminish their tyrannous power, unto the time of further examinations; for she was brought before the bishop, the dean, and the chancellor, and other commissioners, first and last, thirteen times.

    THE FOURTH EXAMINATION, BEFORE THE BISHOP OF LONDON, SIR ROGER CHOLMLEY, DR. COOKE THE RECORDER OF LONDON, DR. ROPER OF KENT, AND DR. MARTIN.

    First she, being presented by Dr. Martin before the bishop of London, Dr. Martin began to declare against her, saying, “The lord chancellor hath sent you here a woman, which hath brought books over from Embden, where all these books of heresy and treason are printed, and hath therewith filled all the land with treason and heresy, neither yet will she confess who translated them, nor who printed them, nor yet who sent them over: wherefore my lord chancellor committeth her unto my lord of London, he to do with her as he shall think good. For she will confess nothing, but that she bought these said books in Amsterdam, and so brought them over to sell for gain.” Dr. Cooke: — “Let her head be trussed in a small line, and make her to confess.” Martin: — “The book is called ‘Antichrist,’ and so may it be well called; for it speaketh against Jesus Christ and the queen. Besides that, she hath a certain spark of the Anabaptists, for she refuseth to swear upon the four evangelists before a judge: for I myself and master Hussey have had her before us four times, but we cannot bring her to swear. Wherefore my lord chancellor would that she should abstain and fast, for she hath not fasted a great while: for she hath lien in the Clink a good while, where she had too much her liberty.”

    Then said the bishop, “Why wilt thou not swear before a judge?

    That is the right trade of the Anabaptists.” Elizabeth: — “My lord, I will not swear that this hand is mine.” “No!” said the bishop, “and why?” Elizabeth: — “My lord, Christ saith, that whatsoever is more than yea, yea, or nay, nay, it cometh of evil. And moreover, I know not what an oath is; and therefore I will take no such thing upon me.”

    Then said, Cholmley, “Twenty pounds, it is a man in a woman’s clothes! twenty pounds, it is a man!” Bonner: — “Think you so, my lord?” Cholmley: — “Yea, my lord,” etc. Elizabeth: — “My lord, I am a woman.” Bishop: — “Swear her upon a book, seeing it is but a question asked.”

    Then said Cholmley, “I will lay twenty pounds, it is a man.”

    Then Dr. Cooke brought her a book, commanding her to lay thereon her hand. Elizabeth: — “No, my lord, I will not swear; for I know not what an oath is. But I say that I am a woman, and have children.” Bishop: — “That know not we: wherefore swear.” Cholmley: — “Thou ill-favored whore, lay thy hand upon the book; I will lay on mine:” and so he laid his hand upon the book. Elizabeth: — “So will not I mine.”

    Then the bishop spoke a word in Latin, out of St. Paul, as concerning swearing. Elizabeth: — “My lord, if you speak to me of St. Paul, then speak English, for I understand you not.” Bishop: — “I dare swear that thou dost not.” Elizabeth: — “My lord, St. Paul saith, that five words spoken in a language that may be understood, are better than many in a foreign or strange tongue, which is unknown.” Dr. Cooke: — “Swear before us, whether thou be a man or a woman.” Elizabeth: — “If ye will not believe me, then send for women into a secret place, and I will be tried.” Cholmley: — “Thou art an ill-favored whore.”

    Then said the bishop, “How believest thou in the sacrament of the altar?” Elizabeth: — “My lord, if it will please you that I shall declare mine own faith, I will.” The Bishop: — “Tell me, how believest thou in the sacrament of the altar?” Elizabeth: — “Will it please you that I shall declare my faith? And if it be not good, then teach me a better, and I will believe it.” Dr. Cooke: — “That is well said: declare thy faith.” Elizabeth: — “I believe in God the Father Almighty, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, three Persons and one God. I believe all the articles of my Creed. I believe all things written in the holy Scripture, and all things agreeable with the Scripture, given by the Holy Ghost unto the church of Christ, set forth and taught by the church of Christ. I believe that Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, that immaculate Lamb, came into the world to save sinners; and that in him, by him, and through him, I am made clean from my sins; and without him I could not. I believe that in the holy sacrament of Christ’s body and blood, which he did institute and ordain, and left among his disciples that night before he was betrayed, when I do receive this sacrament in faith and spirit, I do receive Christ.” Bishop: — “No more, I warrant you, but the sacrament of Christ’s body and blood, received but in spirit and faith, with these heretics.” Cholmley: — “Ah whore! Spirit and faith, whore!” Elizabeth: — “This sacrament never man could or did make, but only He, that did what no man could do.” Martin: — “Then thou must allow that grass is a sacrament; for who could make grass, but he only?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, he hath suffered, and made a sufficient sacrifice once for all, and so hath he made his sacrament sufficient once for all; for there was never man that could say, ‘Take, eat; this is my body, that is broken for you;’ but only Jesus Christ, who had his body broken for the sins of the world; which sacrament he hath left here amongst us for a testimonial of his death, even to the world’s end.” Martin: — “Who taught thee this doctrine? did Scory?” Elizabeth: — “Yea, bishop Scory and others that I have heard.” Bishop: — “Why, is Scory bishop now?” Elizabeth: — “If that do offend you, call him Dr. Scory, if ye will.” Roper: — “I knew when he was but a poor doctor.” Martin: — “What do ye call Scory?” Elizabeth: — “Our superintendent.” Bishop: — “Lo! their superintendent.” Martin: — “And what are ye called?” Elizabeth: — “Christ’s congregation.” Bishop: — “Lo! Christ’s congregation, I warrant you.” Dr. Cooke: — “What living hath Scory?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, as far as I do know, he liveth by his own, for I know no man that giveth him aught.” Recorder: — “Yes, I warrant you, he hath enough sent him out of England.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I know no such thing.” Cholmley: — “Hark! whore, hark! hark! how I do believe.” Elizabeth: — “My lord, I have told you my belief.” Cholmley: — “Hark, thou ill-favored whore; how I do believe. When the priest hath spoken the words of consecration, I do believe that there remaineth the very body that was born of the Virgin Mary, was hanged on the cross, was dead and buried, and descended into hell, and rose again on the third day, and ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God. The same body, when the priest hath spoken the words, cometh down, and when the priest lifteth up his body on this wise, he, lifting up his hands, said, “there it is.” Elizabeth: — “I have told you also, how I do believe.” Martin: — “Away with her.” Cholmley: — “Ah, evil-favored whore! nothing but spirit and faith, whore!” Martin: — “Away with her, we have more to talk withal.” Then was she carried into the coal-house, and searched for books, and then put into the stock-house, and her knife, girdle, and apron taken from her.

    THE FIFTH EXAMINATION BEFORE THE BISHOP OF LONDON’S CHANCELLOR.

    Then was she brought out of the stock-house, and brought before the bishop’s chancellor, who required of her, what age she was of. Elizabeth: — “Sir, forty years and upwards.” The Bishop’s Chancellor: — “Why, thou art a woman of fair years; what shouldst thou meddle with the Scriptures? It is necessary for thee to believe, and that is enough. It is more fit for thee to meddle with thy distaff, than to meddle with the Scriptures. What is thy belief? I would hear it; for it cannot be good, in that thou art brought into prison.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, if it will please you to hear, I will declare it unto you. But I pray you that you will take your pen and write it, and then examine it; and if ye find any thing therein that is not fit for a christian woman, then teach me better, and I will learn it.” Chancellor: — “Well said. But who shall judge between thee and me?” Elizabeth: — “The Scripture.” Chancellor: — “Wilt thou stand by that?” Elizabeth: — “Yea sir.” Chancellor: — “Well, go thy way out at the door a little while, for I am busy, and I will call for thee anon again.”

    Then he called me again, and said, “Now woman, the time is too long to write. Say thy mind, and I will bear it in my head.”

    Then Elizabeth began, and declared her faith to him, as she had done before the bishop. Chancellor: — “Woman, spirit and faith I do allow; but dost not thou believe that thou dost receive the body of Christ, really, corporally, and substantially?” Elizabeth: — “These words, really and corporally, I understand not; as for substantially, I take it, ye mean I should believe that I should receive his human body (which is upon the right hand of God, and can occupy no more places at once); and that believe not I.” Chancellor: — “Thou must believe this, or else thou art; damned.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, can ye give me belief or faith .” Chancellor: — “No, God must give it thee.” Elizabeth: — “God hath given me no such faith or belief.” The chancellor then declared a text of St. Paul in Latin, and then in English, saying, I could make thee believe, but that thou hast a cankered heart, and wilt not believe. Who then can make thee to believe?” Elizabeth: — “You said even now, that faith or belief cometh of God; and so believe I, and then may not I believe an untruth to be a truth.” f450 Chancellor: — “Dost thou not believe that Christ’s flesh is flesh in thy flesh?” Elizabeth: — “No, sir, I believe not that; for my flesh shall putrefy and rot.” f451 Chancellor: — “Christ said, My flesh is flesh in flesh. (John 6.) Elizabeth: — “Whoso receiveth him fleshly, shall have a fleshly resurrection.” Chancellor: — “Christ saith in the 6th of John, ‘My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed.’” Elizabeth: — “Christ preached to the Capernaites, saying, ‘Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye shall not have life in you:’ and the Capernaites murmured at it. And his disciples also murmured, saying among themselves, ‘This is a hard saying, and who can abide it?’ Christ understood their meaning, and said, ‘Are ye also offended? will ye also go away? What and if ye shall see the Son of man ascend up to heaven, from whence he came? will that offend you? It is the Spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.’ I pray you, sir, what meaneth Christ by that?” Chancellor: — “O, God forbid. Would ye have me to interpret the Scriptures? We must leave that for our old ancient fathers, which have studied Scriptures a long time, and have the Holy Ghost given unto them.” Elizabeth: — “Why sir, have you not the Holy Ghost given and revealed unto you?” Chichester: — “No, God forbid that I should so believe; but I hope, I hope. But ye say, ye are of the Spirit: will you say that ye have no profit in Christ’s flesh?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, we have our profit in Christ’s flesh, but not as the Capernaites did understand it; for they understood, that they must eat his flesh as they did eat ox-flesh and other, and drink his blood, as we drink wine or beer out of a bowl. But so we must not receive it. But our profit that we have by Christ, is to believe that his body was broken upon the cross, and his blood shed for our sins: that is the very meaning of Christ, that so we should eat his flesh, and drink his blood, when he said, ‘My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed.’” Chancellor: — “How doth thy body live, if Christ’s flesh is not flesh in thy flesh?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I was a body before I had a soul; which body God had created, and yet it could not live, till God had breathed life into me, and by that life doth my body live. And when it shall please God to dissolve my life, my flesh will offer itself unto the place from whence it came; and, through the merits of Christ, my soul will offer itself to the place from whence it came.” Chancellor: — “Yea, but if thou do not believe that Christ’s flesh is flesh in thy flesh, thou canst not be saved.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I do not believe that.” Chancellor: — “Why, doth not Christ say, ‘My flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed?’ Canst thou deny that?” Elizabeth: — “I deny not that; for Christ’s flesh and blood is meat and drink for my soul, the food of my soul. For whosoever believeth that Jesus Christ the Son of God hath died and shed his blood for his sins, his soul feedeth thereon for ever.” Chancellor: — “When thou receivest the sacrament of the altar, dost thou not believe that thou dost receive Christ’s body?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, when I do receive the sacrament which Christ did institute and ordain the night before he was betrayed, and left among his disciples, as often (I say) as I receive it, I believe that spiritually, and by faith, I receive Christ. And of this sacrament, I know Christ himself to be the author, and none but he. And this same sacrament is an establishment to my conscience, and an augmenting to my faith.” Chancellor: — “Why, did not Christ take bread, and give thanks, and break it, and give it to his disciples, and say, ‘Take, eat; this is my body that is given for you?’ Did he give them his body, or no?” Elizabeth: — “He also took the cup, and gave thanks to his Father, and gave it unto his disciples, saying, ‘Drink ye all hereof: for this is the cup of the New Testament in my blood, which shall be shed for many.’ Now I pray you, sir, let me ask you one question: Did he give the cup the name of his blood, or else the wine that was in the cup?”

    Then was he very angry, and said: ‘Dost thou think that thou hast a hedge-priest in hand?” Elizabeth: — “No sir, I take you not to be a hedge-priest. I take you for a doctor.” Chancellor: — “So methinketh. Thou wilt take upon thee to teach me.” Elizabeth: — “No, sir; but I let you know what I know; and by argument, one shall know more. Christ said, ‘As oft as ye do this, do it in the remembrance of me:’ but a remembrance is not of a thing present, but absent. Also St. Paul saith, ‘So oft as ye shall eat of this bread, and drink of this cup, ye shall show forth the Lord’s death till he come:’ then we may not look for him here, until his coming again at the latter day. Again, is not this article of our belief true, ‘He sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge both the quick and the dead? But if he shall not come before he come to judgment, then how is he here present in your sacrament of the altar? Wherefore I believe that the human body of Christ occupieth no more but one place at once; for when he was here, he was not there.”

    THE SIXTH EXAMINATION, BEFORE THE BISHOP’S CHANCELLOR.

    The bishop’s chancellor said unto her, “Woman, the last time that thou wast before me, our talk was concerning the sacrament.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, true it is, and I trust that I said nothing that ye can deny by the Scriptures.” Chancellor: — “Yes, thou wilt not believe that Christ’s flesh is flesh in thy flesh.” Elizabeth: — “No, sir; God hath given me no such belief; for it cannot be found by the Scriptures.” Chancellor: — “Wilt thou believe nothing but what is in the Scripture? Why, how many sacraments dost thou find in the Scripture?” Elizabeth: — “The church of Christ doth set down twain.” Chancellor: — “I will as well find seven by the Scripture, as thou shalt find twain.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I talk not to you thereof; but I say that the church of Christ setteth out twain, and I have been taught no more.” Chancellor: — “What are those twain?” Elizabeth: — “The sacrament of Christ’s body and blood, and the sacrament of baptism.” Chancellor: — “What sayest thou by the sacrament of wedlock?” Elizabeth: — “I have not heard it called a sacrament, but the holy estate of matrimony, which ought to be kept of all men that take it upon them.” Chancellor: — “How sayest thou by priests? Is it good that they should marry? is it to be kept of them?” Elizabeth: — “I come not hither to reason any such matters, for I am no divine; and also it is no part of my faith.” Chancellor: — “Can ye not tell? ye shall tell or ever you go.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, then must ye keep me a good while: for I have not studied the Scriptures; for it.” Chancellor: — “No! why, ye will not be ashamed to flee unto the highest mystery, even to the sacrament, at the first dash; and. ye are not afraid to argue with the best doctor in the land.” Elizabeth: — “God’s mysteries I will not meddle with; but all things that are written, are written for our edification.” Chancellor: — “What say you by prayer for the dead? Is it not meet that if a man’s friend be dead, his friend commend his soul unto God?” Elizabeth: — “There is no christian man that will commend his friend or his foe unto the devil. And whether it be good for him When he is dead or no, sure I am, that it is good when he is alive.” Chancellor:. — “Then thou allowest not prayer to be good for them when they be dead, and lying in purgatory. Is it not meet that prayer be made unto God for them?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I never heard in the Scriptures of purgatory; but in the Scriptures I have heard of heaven and hell.” Chancellor: — “Why, ye have nothing but the skimming of the Scriptures. Our ancient fathers could find out in the bottom of the Scriptures that there is a purgatory. Yea, they could find it in the New Testament, that a priest shall take the sacrament, and go to the altar, and make an oblation, and offer it up every day.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, that could never be found in the Bible, nor Testament, as far as I could hear.” Chancellor: — “Whom dost thou hear read either the Bible or Testament, but a sort of schismatics, bawdy bishops, and hedgepriests (which have brought into the church a stinking communion, which was never heard of in any place in the world, but here in England),which have deceived the king, and all the nobility, and all the whole realm?’ Elizabeth: — “Sir, It is a vile name that ye give them all.” Chancellor: — “Where are all the hedge-knaves become now, that they come not to their answer?” f454 Elizabeth: — “Answer, sir? why, they have answered both with the Scriptures, and also with their blood. And then where were you, that ye came not forth to answer in their times? I never knew any of you that were troubled, but twain, and that was not for God’s word; it was for their disobedience.” Chancellor: — “No, I pray you? did ye not know that we were killed, hanged, burnt, and headed?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I never knew that any of you ever were either hanged killed, burnt, or ‘headed.” Chancellor: — “No! did ye never hear that the bishop of Rochester lost his head, for the supremacy of the bishops of Rome?” Elizabeth: — “Then he died not for God’s word.” Chancellor: — “Well, thou wilt believe nothing but that which is written in God’s word. Where canst thou find the Sabbath written in the Scripture, by the name of the Sabbath? for the right sabbath-day will I prove to be Saturday: or where canst thou find the articles of the Creed in the Scripture by the name of the articles? or where canst thou find in the Scripture, that Christ went down into hell?” Elizabeth: — “What place or part in the Scripture can ye find to disprove any of these things?” Chancellor: — “What priest hast thou lien withal, that thou hast so much Scripture? Thou art some priest’s woman, I think, for thou wilt take upon thee to reason, and teach the best doctor in all the land, thou!” Elizabeth: — “I was never yet priest’s wife, nor yet priest’s woman.” Chancellor: — “Have I touched your conscience. Elizabeth: — “No, sir, ye have not touched my conscience; but beware ye hurt not your own.” Chancellor: — “Thou hast read a little in the Bible or Testament, and thou thinkest that thou art able to reason with a doctor that hath gone to school thirty years; and, before God, I think if I had talked thus much with a Jew, as I have done with thee, he would have turned ere this time. But I may say by you, as Christ said by Jerusalem, saying, ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! how oft would I have gathered thee together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens, but thou wouldest not.’ And so would we gather you together in one faith, but ye will not: and therefore your own blood be upon your own heads; for I can do no more but teach you. Thou art one of the rankest heretics that ever I heard; for thou believest nothing but what is in the Scripture: and therefore thou art damned.” Elizabeth: — “I do believe all things written in the Scripture, and all things agreeable with the Scripture, given by the Holy Ghost unto the church of Christ, set forth and taught by the church of Christ; and shall I be damned because I believe the truth, and will not believe an untruth?”

    Then the chancellor called the keeper, saying, “Cluney, take her away! thou knowest what thou hast to do with her.

    And so she departed, and was brought again to the stock-house, and there she lay certain days, and both her hands manacled in one iron; and afterward she was removed into the Lollards’ Tower, and there she remained with both her feet in the stocks and irons, till the next time of examination.

    THE SEVENTH EXAMINATION, BEFORE THE CHANCELLOR AND THE BISHOP’S SCRIBE.

    When she was brought before the said chancellor and the scribe, the chancellor said unto her; “Woman, thou hast been twice before me, but thou and I could not agree; and here be certain articles that my lord the bishop of London would that thou shouldest make answer unto, which are these: First, how many sacraments thou dost allow.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, as many as Christ’s church doth allow, and that is twain.” Then said the scribe, “Thou wast taught seven, before king Edward’s days.” Chancellor: — “Which two sacraments be those that thou dost allow?” Elizabeth: — “The sacrament of the body and blood of Jesus Christ, and the sacrament of baptism.” Chancellor: — “Dost thou not believe that the pope of Rome is the supreme head of the church, immediately under God in earth?” Elizabeth: — “No sir, no man can be the head of Christ’s church; for Christ himself is the head, and his word is the governor of all that be of that church, wheresoever they be scattered abroad.” Chancellor: — “Dost thou not believe that the bishop of Rome can forgive thee all thy sins, heretical, detestable, and damnable, that thou hast done from thine infancy unto this day?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, the bishop of Rome is a sinner as I am, and no man can forgive me my sins, but he only that is without sin; and that is Jesus Christ, which died for my sins.” Chancellor: — “Dost thou not know that the pope sent over his jubilees, that all that ever would fast and pray, and go to the church, should have their sins forgiven them?” The Scribe: — “Sir, I think that she was not in the realm then.” Chancellor: — “Hast thou not desired God to defend thee from the tyranny of the bishop of Rome, and all his detestable enormities?” Elizabeth: — “Yes, that I have.” Chancellor: — “And art thou not sorry for it?” Elizabeth: — “No, sir, not a whit.” Chancellor: — “Hast thou not said, that the mass was wicked, and the sacrament of the altar most abominable?” Elizabeth: — “Yes, that I have.” Chancellor: — “And art thou not sorry for it?” Elizabeth: — “No sir, not a whit.” Chancellor: — “Art thou not content to go to the church, and hear mass?” Elizabeth: — “I will not go to the church, either to mass or matins, till I may hear it in a tongue that I can understand: for I will be fed no longer in a strange language.” And always the scribe did write every of these articles, as they were demanded, and answered unto.

    Then the scribe asked her from whence she came.

    The chancellor said, “This is she that brought over all these books of heresy and treason.”

    Then said the scribe to her, “Woman, where hadst thou all these books?” Elizabeth: — “I bought them in Amsterdam, and brought them over to sell, thinking to gain thereby.”

    Then said the scribe, “What is the name of the book?” Elizabeth: — “I cannot tell.” The Scribe: — “Why wouldst thou buy books, and know not their names?”

    Then said Cluney the keeper, “Sir, my lord bishop did send for her by name, that she should come to mass, but she would not.” Chancellor: — “Yea, did my lord send for her by name, and would she not go to mass?” Elizabeth: — “No sir, I will never go to mass, till I do understand it, by the leave of God.’“ Chancellor: — “Understand it! Why, who the devil can make thee to understand Latin, thou being so old?”

    Then the scribe commanded her to set her hand to all the said things. Elizabeth said, “Sir, then let me hear it read first.”

    Then said the scribe, “Master Chancellor! shall she hear it read?” Chancellor: — “Yea, let the heretic hear it read.”

    Then she heard it read, and so she set to her hand.

    THE EIGHTH EXAMINATION, BEFORE THE BISHOP.

    When she was brought before the bishop, he asked the keeper, “Is this the woman that hath the three children?” And the keeper said,” Yea, my lord.” Bishop: — “Woman, here is a supplication put unto my hands for thee. In like case there was another supplication put up to me for thee afore this, in the which thou madest as though that I should keep thy children.” Elizabeth: — “My lord, I did not know of this supplication, nor yet of the other.”

    Then said the bishop, “Master dean, is this the woman you have sued so earnestly for?” Dean: — “Yea, my lord.” Dean: — “Woman, what remaineth in the sacrament of the altar, when and after that the priest hath spoken the words of consecration?” Elizabeth: — “A piece of bread. But the sacrament of Christ’s body and blood, which he did institute and leave amongst his disciples the night before he was betrayed, ministered according to his word, that sacrament I do believe.” Dean: — “How dost thou believe concerning the body of Christ? where is his body, and how many bodies hath he?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, in heaven, he sitteth on the right hand of God.” Dean: — “From whence came his human body?” Elizabeth: — “He took it of the Virgin Mary.” Dean: — “That is flesh, blood, and bones, as mine is. But what shape hath his spiritual body? hath it face, hands, and feet?” Elizabeth: — “I know no other body that he hath, but that body whereof he meant when he said, ‘This is my body which is given for you: and this is my blood which shall be shed for you.’ Whereby he plainly meaneth that body, and no other, which he took of the Virgin Mary, having the perfect shape and proportion of a human body.”

    Then said Story, “Ye have a wise body: for ye must go to the stake.’“ Dean: — “Art thou content to believe in the faith of Christ’s church?

    But to ask of thee what Christ’s church is, or where it is, I let it pass.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, to that church I have joined my faith, and from it I purpose never to turn by God’s help.” Dean: — “Wouldst thou not be at home with thy children with a good will?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, if it please God to give me leave.” Dean: — “Art thou content to confess thyself to be an ignorant and foolish woman, and to believe as our holy father the pope of Rome doth, and as the lord cardinal’s grace doth, and as my lord the bishop of London thine ordinary doth, and as the king’s grace, and the queen’s grace, and all the nobility of England do; yea, and the emperor’s grace, and all the noble princes of Christendom?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I was never wise, but in few words I shall make you a brief answer how I do believe. I do believe all things that are written in the Scriptures given by the Holy Ghost unto the church of Christ, set forth and taught by the church of Christ. Hereon I ground my faith, and on no man.” Then said Story, “And who shall be judge?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, the Scripture.” Story: — “And who shall read it?” Elizabeth: — “He unto whom God hath given the understanding.” Bishop: — “Woman, be reformable; for I would thou wert gone; and master dean here hath earnestly sued for thee.” Dean: — “Woman, I have sued for thee indeed, and I promise thee, if thou wilt be reformable, my lord will be good unto thee.” Elizabeth: — “I have been before my lord bishop, and before master chancellor three times, and have declared my faith.” Dean: — “And yet I know that master chancellor will say, that thou art a rank heretic.” Story: — “Away with her.” Bishop: — “Master dean, ye know that I may not tarry, nor you neither.

    Let her keeper bring her home to your own chamber soon, at four o’clock at afternoon; and if that ye find her reasonable, then let her go, for I would that she were gone.” Then said the dean, “With a good will, my lord.”

    And so she was sent unto the place from whence she came, until it was four of the clock at afternoon.

    THE NINTH EXAMINATION, BEFORE THE DEAN, BY WHOM IT PLEASED GOD TO DELIVER HER.

    When it was four of the clock at afternoon, as the hour was appointed, and the dean was set, he asked her, “Art thou a fool now, as thou wast today?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I have learned but small wisdom since.” Dean: — “Dost thou think that I am better learned than thou?” Elizabeth: — “Yes, sir, that I do.” Dean: — “Thinkest thou that I can do thee good?” Elizabeth: — “Yea, sir, and if it please God that ye will.” Dean: — “Then I will do thee good indeed. What dost thou receive, when thou receivest the sacrament which Christ left among his disciples the night before he was betrayed?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, that that his disciples did receive.” Dean: — “What did they receive?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, that that Christ gave them, they received.” Dean: — “What answer is this? was Christ there present?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, he was there present; for he instituted his own sacrament.” Dean: — “He took bread; and he brake it, and he gave it to his disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body which shall be broken for you.’ When thou receivest it, dost thou believe that thou receivest his body?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, when I receive, I believe that through faith I do receive Christ.” Dean: — “Dost thou believe that Christ is there?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I believe that he is there to me, and by faith I do receive him.” Dean: — “He also took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to his disciples, and said, ‘Drink ye all hereof; this is the cup of the New Testament in my blood, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.’ When thou dost receive it after the institution that Christ ordained among his disciples, the night before he was betrayed, dost thou believe that Christ is there?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, by faith I believe that he is there, and by faith I do believe that I do receive him.” Dean: — “Now thou hast answered me. Remember that thou sayest, that when thou dost receive according to the institution of Christ, thou dost receive Christ.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I believe Christ not to be absent from his own sacrament.” Dean: — “How long wilt thou continue in that belief?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, as long as I do live, by the help of God; for it is, and hath been, my belief.” Dean: — “Wilt thou say this before my lord?” Elizabeth: — “Yea, sir.” Dean: — “Then I dare deliver thee. Why, thou calf! why wouldst thou not say so to-day?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, ye asked me no such question.” Dean: — “Then ye would stand in disputation how many bodies Christ had.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, indeed that question ye did ask me.” Dean: — “Who shall be thy sureties that thou wilt appear before my lord of London and me upon Friday next?” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I have no sureties, nor know I where to have any.”

    Then spoke the dean unto two women that stood there, who had earnestly sued for her, saying, “Women, will ye be her sureties, that she shall appear before my lord of London and me upon Friday next?” The Women: — “Yea, sir, and it please you.” Dean: — “Take heed that I find you no more a brabbler in the Scripture.” Elizabeth: — “Sir, I am no brabbler in the Scripture, nor yet any man can burden me therewith.” Dean: — “Yes, I have heard of you well enough, what ye are.”

    Then said he to the two women, “What if a man should touch your conscience; do ye not smell a little of heresy also?” The Women: — “No, sir.” Dean: — “Yes, a little of the frying-pan, or else wherefore have ye twain so earnestly sued for her?”

    The one woman answered, “Because that her children were like to perish, and therefore God put me in mind to sue for her.”

    Then said the other woman, “And I gat her child a nurse, and I am threatened to stand to the keeping of her child; and therefore it standeth me in hand to sue to have her out.” Dean: — “Woman, give thanks unto these honest women, who have so earnestly sued for thee, and I promise thee so have I. These great heretics will receive nothing but in spirit and faith.” And so he rose and departed. Elizabeth: — “Sir, God be praised, and I thank you for your goodness and theirs also.”

    And so he went away; and upon the Friday next, because she was accused, her two sureties went thither, and were discharged.

    ELIZABETH LAWSON.

    In the town of Bedfield, and in the county of Suffolk, was dwelling an ancient godly matron, named Elizabeth Lawson, about the age of sixty years. This Elizabeth was apprehended as a heretic by the constables of the same town, named Robert Kitrich, and Thomas Elas, in the year of our Lord 1556, because she would not go to church to hear mass, and *believe in the sacrament and worship* a299 it. First, they laid her in a dungeon; and, after that, she was carried unto Norwich, and from thence to Bury gaol, where at last she was condemned to be burnt. In the mean time sir John Sylliard had her home unto his house, he being high sheriff that year; where she was hardly kept, and wrapped in irons, till at length, when they by no means could move her to recant, she was sent to prison again with shameful revilings.

    Thus she continued in prison the space of two years and three quarters. In the mean time there was burnt her son, and many more, whereby she would often say, “Good Lord! what is the cause that I may not yet come to thee with thy children? Well, good Lord! thy blessed will be done, and not mine.”

    Not long after this (most happily) followed the death of queen Mary, after whom succeeded our queen that now is; at which time this Elizabeth Lawson remained yet still in Bury prison, till at last she was bailed upon sureties, or else she could not be delivered. For she being a condemned person, neither the temporality, nor yet spiritual authority, would discharge her without sureties.

    Now, she being abroad, and her sureties made afraid by wicked men, they said, they would cast her again in prison, except she would see them discharged.

    Then she got a supplication to go unto the queen’s majesty, and came to a friend of hers, to have his counsel therein; who willed her to stay a while, because she was old, the days short, and the expenses great, and winter foul (for it was a little before Christmas), and to tarry until summer. In the mean time God brake the bond, and shortened her journey; for he took her home to himself out of this life in peace.

    This good old woman, long before she went to prison, had the fallingsickness, and told a friend of hers, one Simon Harlston, after she was apprehended, that she never had it more, but lived in good health and joy of heart, through our Lord Christ.

    She had a very unkind man to her husband, who while she was in prison, sold away her raiment, and would not help her; and after she was out of prison, she returned home unto him, yet would he show her no kindness, nor help her neither; and yet the house and land that he, dwelt in, he had by her: wherefore as long as she lived, she was found of the congregation.

    The said Elizabeth Lawson also had a sister, wife to one Robert Hollon in Mickfield in the same county of Suffolk, which likewise was persecuted and driven out from house to house, and a young man her sort with her, because they would not go to the church to hear mass, and receive the sacrament of the altar. a300 THOMAS CHRISTENMASS AND WILLIAM WATS.

    In this perilous rage of queen Mary’s reign were two men persecuted, one called Thomas Christenmass, the other William Wats, of Tunbridge in Kent. As these traveled from place to place, not resting two nights together in one place, it happened them on a time to come to Rochester in Kent, *wheras, in entering into the town, even at the town’s end, they met* a little damosel of eight years of age; but whither she went, they knew not. It was then night, and they weary; and therefore fain would have lien in the same town, but could not tell where, they feared so the bloody catholics. At the last they devised to ask the damosel, whether there were any heretics in the town, or no? and she said, Yea. They asked her, Where? She answered them, At such an inn: telling them the name, and where the inn was. Shortly after, as they were gone from her, they bethought themselves better, and God so moving their hearts, they went to the child again, and asked her how she knew that the innkeeper (of whom she spoke before) was a heretic. “Marry,” quoth she, “well enough, and his wife also.” “How knowest thou, pretty maiden?” said. they: “I pray thee tell us.” “How know I?” said she; “marry, because they go to the church; and those that will not hold up their hands there, they will present them. And he himself goeth from house to house, to compel them to come to church” When these two men heard this, they gave God praise, and avoided that house, taking the warning of that maid (of good bringing-up, as it should seem), to be God’s marvelous providence towards them.

    ANOTHER ESCAPE OF WILLIAM WATS.

    The foresaid William Wats, dwelling in queen Mary’s days at Seal in Kent, the last year of her reign save one, was apprehended by his enemies, and brought by the constables before the bishop and justices at Tunbridge, where the bishop and justices would have persuaded him all they could, to turn from the truth; howbeit in vain, for they could not remove him, although they spent all the forenoon thereabout, with many flattering words; so merciful was the Lord unto him.

    Now when dinner-time was come, as they should rise, they committed the prisoner to the constables again, and so rose up to go to dinner. The constables took Wats, and led him to a victualling-house, where, after they had well filled themselves, they fell asleep, supposing their prisoner to be sure enough under their hands. Wats’s wife being then in the house with her husband, and very careful for his well doing, seeing the constables thus fast asleep, desired her husband to depart and go thence, forsomuch as the Lord had made such a way for him; unto which her words he would not consent, although she persuaded him all that she could.

    At the last (they replying one against another), a stranger heard them, and asked her what the matter was, that she was so earnest with her husband.

    The wife told him. Then said the stranger unto Wats these words, “Father! go thy ways in God’s name, and tarry no longer: the Lord hath opened the way unto thee.” Whereupon the said Wats went his way, and his wife departed from him, and went home to her house at Seal, thinking her husband had gone another way. Now as she was going in at her door, telling her friends of his deliverance, immediately came the said Wats in also, and they all being *abashed a301 * thereat, willed him in all haste to get him away; for they thought there would be search for him immediately.

    Then Wats said, he would eat meat first, and also pray; which he did, and afterward departed thence. So soon as he was out of the doors, and had hid himself in a holly-bush, immediately came the said constables with thirty persons into the said house to search for him, where they pierced the featherbeds, broke up his chests, and made such havoc, that it was wonderful. And ever among a302 as they were searching, the constables cried, “I will have Wats, I will have Wats; I tell thee, I will have Wats.”

    But (God be thanked) Wats could not be found. And when they saw it booted not to search for him, in the end they took his wife, and set her in a pair of stocks, where she remained two days; and she was very bold in the truth, and at the last delivered, through the providence of God; whose name be glorified in all his works, Amen.

    JOHN GLOVER OF MANCETTER, GENTLEMAN.

    What a fatherly and manifest providence of the Lord likewise did appear in the preserving of master John Glover of the diocese of Coventry and Lichfield, in the town of Mancetter: first, at the taking of Robert his brother: at which time, although the commission came down for him, yet so God ordered the matter, that his brother being sick was apprehended, and yet he, being whole, escaped, whereof mention is made before.

    And again, another time how miraculously the merciful providence of the Lord wrought his escape out of his enemies’ hands, they being at his chamber-door, and drawing the latch to search for him; and how his wife the same time was taken and sent to Lichfield, read before. f458 ONE DABNEY, A PAINTER.

    There was at London a certain honest godly person, a painter, named Dabney, whom John Avales, in the time of queen Mary, had brought before Bonner, to be examined for his faith. It happened the same time, as the said Dabney was there, that the bishop was occupied with the examination of others, so that he was bid to stand by, and to wait the bishop’s leisure. Upon the same, or not long after, suddenly cometh word to the bishop to prepare him in all speed; the general procession tarried for him. The bishop hearing that, setting all business apart, * bustleth a303 * himself with all speed possible to the church, there to furnish the procession; by reason whereof Dabney, who newly came to the house, was there left alone, while every man else was busied in preparing and setting themselves forward, according as the case required.

    To be short, as the time called on , a304 Bonner with his household maketh haste so fast as they can, out of the doors to the procession.

    Dabney, being left alone, cometh down to the outward court next the gate, there walking with himself all heavy, looking for nothing less than to escape that danger. The porter, who was only left at home, seeing the man to walk alone, supposing he had been some citizen there left behind and waiting for opening the gate, went and opened the wicket, asking if he would go out. “Yea,” said he, “with a good will, if ye will let me out.” “With all my heart,” quoth the porter, “and I pray you so do.”

    And thus the said Dabney, taking the occasion offered of God, being let out by the porter, escaped out of the wolfs mouth. The procession being done, when the bishop returned home, Dabney was gone, and could not be found: whereupon the search was made. But especially John Avales laid pretty much privy wait for him; who, after long searching, when he could not get him, at length received fifteen crowns of his wife, to let him alone when he should see him; and so that good man escaped.

    ALEXANDER WIMSHURST, MINISTER.

    A like example of God Almighty’s goodness towards his afflicted servants in that dangerous time of persecution, may also appear evidently in one Alexander Wimshurst, a priest sometime of Magdalen college in Oxford, and then the pope’s own knight, but since, an earnest enemy to antichrist, and a man better instructed in the true fear of God. It happened that one had promoted him to Bonner for religion, upon what occasion I do not understand. According to the old manner in such cases provided, he sent forth Robin Caly, otherwise called Robin Papist, one of his whelps, to bring in the game, and to cause this silly poor man to appear before him.

    Little Robin, like a proper man, bestirreth him in his business, and smelleth him out; and when he had gotten him, bringeth him along by Cheapside, not suffering him to talk with any of his acquaintance by the way, though there were of his old friends of Oxford that offered to speak unto him.

    When they came into Paul’s, it happened this Alexander to espy Dr.

    Chedsey, there walking up and down; to whom, because he was able in such a case to do pleasure, and for that he had been of his old acquaintance in Oxford, he was very desirous to speak to him or he went through.

    Chedsey, perceiving that Robin Caly did attend upon him, said that he durst not meddle in the matter. “Yes,” saith little Robin, “you may talk with him if it please you, master doctor!” To be short, Alexander openeth his case, and in the end desireth, for old acquaintance’ sake, that he would find means he might be rather brought before Dr. Martin to be examined, than any other. “Nay,” saith he (alleging the words of Christ unto Peter in the last chapter of St. John), “you remember, brother, what is written in the gospel: ‘When thou wast young, thou didst gird thyself, and wentest whither thou wouldest: but being aged, other men shall gird thee, and lead thee whither thou wouldest not.’” Thus abusing the Scripture to his private meaning, whereas notwithstanding he might easily have accomplished so small a request, if it had liked him.

    Thence was he carried to Story and Cook, commissioners, there to learn what should become of him: before them he did use himself boldly and stoutly, as they on the other side did urge him with captious questions very cruelly. When they had baited the poor man their fill, they asked him where his whore was. “She is not my whore,” said he, “but my lawful wife.” “She is thy whore,” said they. “She is not my whore,” said he again, “but my wife, I tell you.” So when they perceived that he would not give place unto them, nor attribute to them so much as they looked for at his hand, according to the ordinary manner, they commanded him to prison . a305 And now mark well the providence of God in his preservation. He was brought into Cluney’s house at Paternoster-row, thence to be carried to Lollards’ Tower out of hand, but that Cluney (as it happened), his wife, and his maid, were so earnestly occupied about present business, that as then they had not leisure to lock up their prisoner. In the hall where Alexander sat, was a strange woman, whose husband was then .presently in trouble for religion, which perceived by some one occasion or other, that this man was brought in for the like cause. “Alack, good man,” saith she, “if you will, you may escape the cruel hands of your enemies, forasmuch as they be all away, that should look unto you. God hath opened the way unto you for a deliverance, and therefore lose not the opportunity thereof, if you be wise.” With those and such like words being then persuaded, he gat out of the doors, and went away without any haste-making at all; so that if any had followed, he might have been easily recovered again. But undoubtedly, it was God’s will that he should so escape the fury of his adversaries, and be preserved from all dangers of death and imprisonment.

    THE STORY OF ONE BOSOME’S WIFE.

    As the works of the Lord are not to be kept secret, whatsoever the persons be in whom it pleaseth him to work; so cometh to remembrance the story of one Bosome’s wife, not unworthy to be considered. This good woman, being at Richmond with her mother, was greatly called upon, and urged to come to church. At length, through importunate crying and calling upon, she granted unto them, and came. Being in the church, and sitting with her mother in the pew, contrary in all things to the doings of the papists, she behaved herself: to wit, when they kneeled she stood; when they turned forward she turned backward, etc.

    This being notorious in the church, at length the constable, and churchwarden named Sanders, attached her in the queen’s name, charging her with her mother, the next day to appear at Kingston, who, at their commandment, so did.

    The next day, according as they were assigned, they came to Kingston to appear before the foresaid officers, who, at the same time (as it chanced), were going over the ferry, and meeting them by the way, saluted them by their names; but at that time had no further power to speak unto them.

    Afterward, as they were in the boat going over, they knocked their hands, stamped and stared, lamenting that they had let them so pass their hands.

    This the ferry-man declared unto them, and what they said in the boat.

    Whereupon the good woman, taking her journey to London, escaped their cruelty, through the secret working (no doubt) of the Lord, who in all his works, and evermore, be praised; Amen . a307 THE LADY KNEVET, OF WYMONDHAM IN NORFOLK.

    Among the number of the godly, that were kept under the providence of the Lord in those perilous days, I may not forget an ancient good lady of much worship, called lady Anne Knevet, who, till her death, dwelt in Norfolk, in a town named Wymondham, six miles from Norwich; which said good lady, in queen Mary’s days, being judged by the common people to be more than a hundred years of age, and by her own estimation well toward a hundred, kept herself from their popish church, or having any papistical trash ministered in her house, but only the service that was used in the latter days of king Edward the sixth, which daily she had said before her, either by one master Tollin, a306 , who was then by God’s providence preserved in her house, or else by one of her gentlewomen or household servants, that could serve the place in the said master Tollin’s absence.

    Now this worshipful lady continuing in this manner of true serving of God, she and her family were many times threatened by messengers, that the bishop would visit her there-for. Unto which messengers she would always answer, that if his lordship sent word before what day he would come, he should thereafter be entertained at her hand. But God, whose providence ruleth the raging seas, never suffered them all that toiling time to molest her: although oftentimes, when she had service before her, there were very great enemies to the truth, and of much authority, that came in, and kneeled to prayer among them, and yet had no power to trouble her there-for.

    This good lady, gentle reader, kept good hospitality, as any in that country, of her living. She also succored many persecuted, that came to her house in the said queen Mary’s days. Were they never so simple, they were esteemed of her as the friends of the gospel, and departed not from her without money and meat . a308 Born she was long before king Edward the fourth died, and ended her life in the Lord Jesus’s peace, about the beginning of the second year of our most sovereign lady queen Elizabeth’s reign, as one in blessed peace, falling into a most sweet sleep a309 . Unto whom not unworthily may be compared the lady Elizabeth Vane, who likewise, being a great harborer and supporter of the afflicted martyrs and confessors of Christ, was in great hazards and dangers of the enemies, and yet notwithstanding, through the merciful providence of the Lord, remained still untouched. But of this lady Vane thou hast read before.

    JOHN DAVIS, A CHILD UNDER TWELVE YEARS OF AGE.

    Anno Domini 1546, and the last year of king Henry the eighth, John Davis, a child of twelve years and under, who, dwelling in the house of master Johnson, apothecary, in the town of Worcester, his uncle (using sometimes to read of the Testament and other good English books), was complained of by Alice Johnson his mistress; which Alice, being an obstinate person, consulted with one Thomas Parton, and one Alice, wife to Nicholas Brooke, organ-maker, with certain of the canons, and. master Johnson, chancellor to Dr. Heath, their bishop. The means whereby he was entrapped were wrought by the foresaid Alice Brooke, who procured Oliver her son, schoolfellow with the said John Davis, to feign friendship with him, and, under pretense to be instructed, to see his English books, and especially to get something of his writing against the Six Articles; which being had, was soon brought to the canons of the church, and the chancellor. Whereupon Thomas Parton, whether being sent, or of his own mind, came to apprehend him, and his uncle was forced against his will, to bind the poor boy’s arms behind him; and so he was brought to the officers of the town, where he lay from the 14th of August, till the last of September. Then was he commanded to the freeman’s prison, where one Richard Hawborough, coming to persuade him from burning, willed him to prove first with a candle; who then holding his finger, and the other a candle under it, a good space, yet (as the party himself to me assureth) felt no burning thereof; neither would the other that held the candle believe him a great while, till he had looked, and saw no scorching of the candle at all appeared.

    Then was the child removed from thence to an inner prison, called Peephole, where the low bailiff, called Robert Yould, laid upon him a pair of bolts, so that he could not lift up his small legs, but leaning on a staff, slipt them forward upon the ground; the coldness of which irons he feeleth yet in his ancles, and shall so long as he liveth: with these bolts his lying was upon the cold ground, having not one lock of straw nor cloth to cover him, save only two sheep-skins; neither durst father or mother, or any of his friends come at hint. Besides this, and many great threats of the papists, there was a madman put to him in the prison, with a knife about him, wherewith he oft times, in his frantic rage, proffered to thrust him in.

    After this came to him one Joyliff and N. Yewer, two canons, which had his writings against the Six Articles, and his ballad, called, “Come down, for all your shaven crown,” to see whether he would stand to that he had written. Which done, with many great raging words, not long after sat master Johnson, the chancellor, in the Guildhall, upon the poor lad; where first were brought in his accusers, and sworn. Then were sworn also twenty-four men which went on his quest, and found him guilty; but he never came before the chancellor. Upon this he was sent to the common gaol among thieves and murderers, there to tarry, the comming of the judges, and so to be had straight to execution. But the mighty mercy of the Lord, who helpeth the desolate and miserable when all other help is past, so provided for this silly condemned lad, that the purpose of all his hardhearted enemies was disappointed; for before the judges came, God took away Henry the eighth out of this life, by reason whereof the force of the law was then stayed. Howbeit he was nevertheless arraigned, being holden up in a man’s arms at the bar before the judges, who were Portman and Marven; who, when they perceived that they could not burn him, would have him presently whipped; but master John Bourne, esquire, declared to the judges, how he had whipping enough. After that he had lain a week more in prison, he had hint home to his house, his wife anointed his legs herself with ointment, which then were stiff and numbed with irons, till at length, when master Bourne and his wife saw they could not win him to the belief of their sacrament, they put him away, lest he should infect their son Anthony, as they thought, with heresy.

    Thus John Davis, of the age aforesaid, in what damage he was for the gospel ye see, and how the Lord preserved him, ye understand. He endured in prison from the 14th day of August, till within seven days of Easter, who is yet alive, and a profitable minister this day in the church of England: blessed be the Lord, “qui facit mirabilia solus” [Psalm 72:18.] MISTRESS ROBERTS, OF HAWKHURST, IN SUSSEX.

    Furthermore, to both these may be also associate another gentle-woman, to make the third, named Mrs. Roberts, yet living and, dwelling (as I understand) in the town of Hawkhurst, in Sussex. She, being earnestly addicted to the truth of Christ’s gospel, and no less constant in that which she had learned therein, so kept herself during all the brunt of queen Mary’s time, that she never came to their popish service, nor would pollute her conscience with hearing their idolatrous mass. There dwelt the same time not far off a justice, called sir John Guilford, who being as fervent on the contrary side to set forward the proceedings of queen Mary, thought to prove masteries with this gentlewoman, in forcing her into the church. And first, sending his wife, he attempted her by fair words and gentle persuasions to conform herself to the prince’s laws, and to come, as other christian people did, to the church. Notwithstanding she, constantly persisting in the sincerity of the truth, would by no persuasions be won to do therein against her conscience; and so kept at home a certain space, till again, the second time, master Guilford, thinking not to give her over so, sent his officers and servants to her, by force and power to hale her out of her house to the church; and so did: where, by the way, she for grief of conscience swooned, and so of necessity was brought home again, and falling into an ague, was for that time dispensed withal.

    The third time, yet the unquiet spirit of master Guilford being not content, after the time that she recovered health again, he would needs come in his own person to compel her, wil’d she, nil’d she, to the church. But, as the proverb goeth, “Who can let that, God would have done?” for when master Guilford had purposed as pleased him, the Lord so disposed for his servant, that as the said master Guilford was coming up the stairs toward her chamber, suddenly his old disease the gout so took him, and terribly tormented him, that he could go no further. And so he, that purposed to carry her to the church against her will, was fain himself to be carried home to his house to his pain; protesting and swearing that he would never from henceforth trouble that gentlewoman more; and no more he did.

    MISTRESS ANNE LACY, A WIDOW IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.

    In this number of good gentlewomen being in trouble and danger for God’s word, is not to be omitted the memory of one mistress Anne Lacy, widow in Nottinghamshire, who was in great danger in queen Mary’s time, insomuch that the process was forth against her, and she ready to have been apprehended, being so nearly pursued, that she was driven to hide her Bible and other books in a dunghill. Master Lacy her brother was then justice of peace; but to whom (as I have heard) she was but smally beholden. Nevertheless, where kindred faileth, yet God’s grace never faileth such as stick to him; for in this mean time, as the process came out against her, queen Mary died, and so she escaped.

    CROSMAN’S WIFE OF TIBENHAM, IN NORFOLK.

    One Crosman’s wife, of Tibenham Long-row in Norfolk, in queen Mary’s time, for not going to church, was sought for at her house by one Barber of the said town, then constable of the hundred, who when he came to her house, she being at home, with a child sucking in her arms, stepped into a corner on the one side of the chimney; and they seeking the chambers, the child never cried (although before they came it did) as long as they were there: and so by this means the Lord preserved her.

    THE CONGREGATION AT STOKE IN SUFFOLK.

    There were some likewise which avoided the violent rage of the adversaries by means only of their number, and mutual concord in godliness, wherein they did so hold together, that without much ado, none well could be troubled: whereof we have example in a certain town of Suffolk called Stoke. After the three sharp years of queen Mary’s persecution being past, yet notwithstanding, the inhabitants of the town aforesaid, especially the women, came not to their church to receive, after the popish manner, the sacrament; who, if they had been but few, they could by no means have escaped imprisonment, but because there were so many, the papists thought it best not to lay hands upon them: only they appointed them sixteen days’ respite after Easter, wherein as many as would, should receive the sacrament; those that would not, should stand to the peril that would follow. Of this company, which were many, giving their hands together, the chiefest doers were these: Eve, an old *mother* of sixty years; Alice Coker, her daughter; Elizabeth Foxe, Agnes Cutting, Alice Spencer, Henry Cauker, Joan Fouke, Agnes Spaulding, John Steyre and his brother, and John Foxe, confessors.

    These, after the order was taken for their not coming to the church, took advisement among themselves what was best to be done, and at length concluded by promise one to another, that they would not receive at; all.

    Yet some of them afterward, being persuaded with fair promises that the communion should be ministered unto them according to king Edward’s book, gat them unto the parish priest (whose name was Cotes), and asked him after which sort he would minister the sacrament. He answered to such as he favored, that he would give it after the right sort; the rest should have it after the papistical manner.

    To be short, none did communicate so, but only John Steyre and John Foxe; of whom the one gave his wife leave to do as she thought best, the other went about with threats to compel his wife, saying, that otherwise he would divorce himself from her. As for the rest, they did withdraw themselves from church, resorting to their wonted company. Only Foxe’s wife tarried still at home, all in her dumps and heaviness, whose husband practiced with the curate in the mean time, that, the next day after, he should give her the sacrament, which was the 17th day after Easter. But the very same day, unknown unto her husband, she gat herself secretly to her company, and with tears declared, how violently her husband had dealt with her. The other women bade her notwithstanding to be of a good cheer, and said, that they would make their earnest prayers unto the Lord, both for her and her husband. And indeed when they had so done, the matter took very good success; for the next day after, goodman Foxe came of his own accord unto them, a far other man than he was before, and bewailed his own headiness and rashness, praying them that they would forgive him, promising ever after to be more strong in faith, to the great rejoicing both of them and his wife.

    About half a year after this, the bishop of Norwich sendeth forth certain of his officers or apparitors thither, which gave them warning every one to come to the church the next Sunday following. If they would not come, they should appear before the commissary out of hand, to render account of their absence. But the women, having secret knowledge of this before, kept themselves out of the way for the nonce, to avoid the summons or warning. Therefore, when they were not at the church at the day appointed, the commissary did first suspend them, according to the bishop of Rome’s law, and within three weeks after, did excommunicate them.

    Therefore, when they perceived that an officer of the town was set to take some of them, they, conveying themselves privily out of the town, escaped all danger.

    THE PRESERVATION OF THE CONGREGATION AT LONDON.

    No less marvelous was the preservation of the congregation in London, which from the first beginning of queen Mary, to the latter end thereof, continued, notwithstanding whatsoever the malice, device, searching, and inquisition of men, or strictness of laws, could work to the contrary. Such was the merciful hand of the Lord, according to his accustomed goodness, ever working with his people. Of this great bountiful goodness of the Lord, many and great examples appeared in the congregation which now I speak of. How oft, and in what dangers did the deliver them!

    First, at the Black-friars, when they should have resorted to sir Thomas Carden’s house, privy watch was laid for them; but yet, through the Lord’s vigilant providence, the mischief was prevented, and they delivered.

    Again, how narrowly did they escape about Aldgate, where spies were laid for them; and had not Thomas Simson the deacon espied them, and bid them disperse themselves away, they had been taken. For within two hours the constable coming to the house after they were gone, demanded of the wife what company had been there. To whom she, to excuse the matter, made answer again, saying, that half a dozen good fellows had been there at breakfast, as they went a Maying.

    Another time also, about the great Conduit, they, passing there through a very strait alley into a clothworker’s loft, were espied, and the sheriffs sent for: but before they came, they, having privy knowledge thereof, immediately shifted away out of the alley, John Avales standing alone in the Mercers’ chapel staring at them.

    Another like escape they made in a ship at Billingsgate, belonging to a certain good man of Ley, where in the open sight of the people they were congregated together, and yet, through God’s mighty power, escaped.

    Betwixt Ratcliffe and Rotherhithe, in a ship called Jesus ship, twice or thrice they assembled, having there closely, after their accustomed manner, both sermon, prayer, and communion; and yet, through the protection of the Lord, they returned, although not unespied, yet untaken.

    Moreover, in a cooper’s house in Pudding-lane, so near they were to perils and dangers, that John Avales, coming into the house where they were, talked with the goodman of the house, and after he had asked a question or two, departed; God so working, that either he had no knowledge of them, or no power to apprehend them.

    But they never escaped more hardly, than once in Thames-street in the night-time, where the house being beset with enemies, yet, as the Lord would, they were delivered by the means of a mariner, who being at that present in the same company, and seeing no other way to avoid, plucked off his slops and swam to the next boat, and so rowed the company over, using his shoes instead of oars; and so the jeopardy was despatched.

    I have heard of one, who being sent to them to take their names, and to espy their doings, yet, in being amongst them, was converted, and cried them all mercy.

    What should I speak of the extreme and present danger which that godly company was in at the taking of master Rough their minister, and Cutbert Symson their deacon, had not the Lord’s providence given knowledge before to master Rough in his sleep, that Cutbert Symson should leave behind him at home the book of all their names, which he was wont to carry about him; whereof mention is made before.

    In this church or congregation there were sometimes forty, sometimes a hundred, sometimes two hundred, sometimes more and sometimes less.

    About the latter time of queen Mary it greatly increased. From the first beginning, which was about the first entry of queen Mary’s reign, they had divers ministers; first, master Scamler, then Thomas Foule, after him master Rough, then master Augustine Bernher, and last master Bentham ; a310 concerning the deliverance of which master Bentham (being now bishop of Coventry and Lichfield), God’s mighty providence most notably is to be considered. For how is it possible, by man’s estimation, for the said master Bentham to have escaped, had not the present power of the Lord, passing all men’s expectation, been prest and ready a311 to hell:, his servant in such a strait! The story and case is this:

    At what time the seven last burnt in Smithfield, mentioned in this book before, were condemned and brought to the stake to suffer, came down in the name of the king and queen a proclamation, being twice pronounced openly to the people (first at Newgate, then at the stake where they should suffer), straitly charging and commanding, that no man should either pray for them, or speak to them, or once say, God help them.

    It was appointed before, of the godly there standing together, which was a great multitude, that so soon as the prisoners should be brought, they should go to them to embrace and to comfort them; and so they did. For as the said martyrs were coming towards the place in the people’s sight, being brought with bills and glares (as the custom is), the godly multitude and congregation with a general sway made toward the prisoners, in such manner that the bill-men and the other officers, being all thrust back, could nothing do, nor anything come nigh. So the godly people meeting and embracing, and kissing them, brought them in their arms (which might as easily have conveyed them clean away) unto the place where they should suffer.

    This done, and the people giving place to the officers, the proclamation with a loud voice was read to the people, containing (as is before said) in the king and queen’s name, that no man should pray for them, or once speak a word unto them, etc. Master Bentham, the minister then of the congregation, not sparing for that, but as zeal and christian charity moved him, and seeing the fire set to them, turning his; eyes to the people, cried and said, “We know they are the people of God, and therefore we cannot choose but wish well to them, and say, God strengthen them:” and so boldly he said, “Almighty God, for Christ’s sake, strengthen them!” With that all the people, with a whole consent and one voice, followed and said, “Amen, Amen!” The noise whereof was so great, and the cries thereof so many; that; the officers could not tell what to say, or whom to accuse.

    And thus much concerning the congregation of the faithful assembling together at London, in the time of queen Mary.

    The said master Bentham another time, as he passed through St.

    Katherine’s, intending to walk and take the air abroad, was enforced by two or three men, approaching upon him, needs to go with them to a place whither they would lead him. Master Bentham, astonied at the suddenness of the matter, and marveling what the thing should be, required what their purpose was, or whither they would have him. They answered, that by the occasion of a man there found drowned, the coroner’s quest was called, and charged to sit upon him, of the which quest he must of necessity be one, etc. He again, loth to meddle in the matter, excused himself, alleging that in such kind of matters he had no skill, and less experience: if it would please them to let him go, they should meet with others more meet for their purpose. But when with this they would not be satisfied, he alleged further, that he was a scholar of Oxford, and thereby was privileged from being of any inquest. The coroner demanded the sight of his privilege. He said, if he would give him leave, he would fetch it. Then said the coroner, the queen must be served without all delay; and so constrained him notwithstanding to be with them in hearing the matter.

    Being brought to the house where the coroner and the rest of the quest were sitting, as the manner is, a book was offered to him to swear upon.

    Master Bentham, opening the book, and seeing it was a papistical primer, refused to swear thereupon, and declared moreover what superstition in that book was contained. “What!” said the coroner; “I think we shall have here a heretic among us.” And upon that, after much reasoning amongst them, he was committed to the custody of an officer, till further examination: by occasion whereof, to all men’s reason, hard it had been and inevitable for master Bentham to have escaped, had not the Lord helped, where man was not able. What followed? Incontinent as they were thus contending and debating about matters of heresy, suddenly cometh the coroner of the admiralty, disannulling and repealing the order and calling of that inquest, for that it was (as he said) pertaining to his office; and therefore the other coroner and his company in that place had nothing to do. And so the first coroner was discharged and displaced; by reason whereof master Bentham escaped their hands, having no more said unto him . a312 ENGLISHMEN PRESERVED AT THE TAKING OF CALAIS.

    The worthy works of the Lord’s mercy toward his people be manifold, and cannot be comprehended, so that who is he living in the earth almost, who hath not experienced the helping hand of the Lord at some time or other upon him? Amongst many others, what a piece of God’s tender providence was showed of late upon our English brethren and countrymen, what time Calais was taken by the tyrant Guise, a cruel enemy both to God’s truth and our English nation! and yet, by the gracious provision of the Lord, few, or none at all, of so many that favored Christ and his gospel; in that terrible spoil, miscarried. In the number of whom there was a godly couple, one John Thorp and his wife, which feared the Lord, and loved his truth, who, being sick the same time, and cast out in the wild fields harborless, desolate, and despairing of all hope of life, having their young infant moreover taken from them in the said fields, and carried away of the soldiers; yet the Lord so wrought, that the poor woman, being almost past recovery of life, was fet and carried the space well nigh of a mile, by strangers whom they never knew, into a village, where both she was recovered for that night, and also the next day, coming toward England, they chanced into the same inn at the next town, where they found their young child sitting by the fire-side.

    EDWARD BENET.

    One Edward Benet, about the second year of the reign of queen Mary, then dwelling at Queenhithe with one Grynoeke a baker, was desired of one Tingle, prisoner then in Newgate, to bring him a New Testament.

    He, procuring one of master Coverdale’s translation, wrapped it in a handkerchief, saying to George the keeper, which asked him what he had, that it was a piece of powdered beef. “Let me see it,” said he. Perceiving what it was, he brought him to sir Roger Cholmley, who examined him why he did so, saying that book was not lawful; and so committed him to the Compter in Woodstreet, where he continued twenty-five weeks.

    Dr. Story coming to the prison to examine other prisoners, this Benet, looking out at the grate, spoke to him, desiring him to be good unto him, and to help him out; for he had lien long in prison. To whom Dr. Story then answering: “What!” said he, “wast thou not before me, in Christ’schurch?” “Yes, forsooth,” said Benet. “Ah,” said Story, “thou dost not believe in the sacrament of the altar! Marry, I will help thee out. Come,” said he to the keeper, “turn him out, I will help him:” and so took Benet with him, and brought him to Cluney in Paternoster-row, and bade him bring him to the coalhouse, and there he was in the stocks, a week.

    Then the bishop sent for him to talk with him, and first asked him if he were shriven? “No,” said Benet. He asked him if he would be shriven? “No,” said he. Then he asked him if the priest could take away his sins? “No,” said Benet, “I do not so believe.” Then he and Harpsfield laughed at him, and mocked him, asking him if he did not believe that whatsoever the priest here bound in earth, should be bound in heaven, and whatsoever he looseth in earth, should be, loosed in heaven. “No,” quoth Benet, “but I believe that the minister of God, preaching God’s word truly, and ministering the sacraments according to the same, whatsoever he bindeth in earth, should be bound in heaven, and whatsoever he looseth,” etc. Then the bishop, putting him aside, said, he should go to Fulham and be whipped.

    Then came to him master Buswell a priest, lying in the coalhouse, in the stocks, and brought Cranmer’s recantation, saying that he had recanted. “My faith,” saith the other, “lieth in no man’s book, but in him which hath redeemed me.” The next Saturday, Benet with five others, was called for to come to mass in the chapel. The mass being done, and they coming out, five of them went to prison, and were after burnt. Benet being behind, and coming toward the gate, the porter, opening to a company going out, asked if there were no prisoners there. “No,” said they. Benet, standing in open sight before him, with other serving-men which were there by reason that Bonner made many priests that day (having one of his sleeves and half the forepart of his coat burnt off in the prison, being more like a prisoner than any of the others), when the gates were opened, went out amongst them, and so escaped.

    Again, in the last year of queen Mary, the same Benet being taken again with the twenty-four beyond Islington, and brought to sir Roger Cholmley’s, the people coming very thick did cut off some of them, to the number of eight, which were behind, among whom was Benet. Then he knocking at the gate to come in, the porter said, that he was none of the company. He said, “Yes,” and knocked again. Then there stood one by of the congregation, named Johnson, dwelling now at Hammersmith, which said, “Edward, thou hast done well, do not tempt God: go thy way.” And so, he taking the warning as sent of God, with a quiet conscience eschewed burning.

    JEFFERY HURST, BROTHER-IN-LAW TO GEORGE MARSH THE MARTYR.

    In the town of Shakerley in Lancashire dwelled one Jeffery Hurst, the son of an honest yeoman, who had, besides him, eleven children, the said Jeffery being the twelfth and eldest of the rest: and for that their father was willing to bring them up, so that they should be able another day to help themselves, he did bind this Jeffery prentice unto the craft of nailing, to make all kind of nails, which occupation he learned, and served out the time of seven years; the which years being expired, he gave himself at times to learn of his other brethren which went to school; and as he was very willing to the same, so God sent him knowledge, wherein he did persevere and go forwards in such sort, that he could write and read indifferently; and in longer continuance came by more knowledge; and so, having the Bible and divers other books in his house, did come by pretty knowledge in the Scripture. After this he took unto him a wife, being the sister of master George Marsh, of whose martyrdom mention is made before; and being much familiar with him, did mend his knowledge not a little. Now when queen Mary was entered the first year of her reign, he kept himself away from their doings, and came not at the church; whereupon he was laid in wait for, and called heretic, and Lollard: and so, for fear of further danger, he was compelled to leave his wife and child, and all, and fled into Yorkshire; and there, being not known, did lead his life, returning sometimes by night to his house, to comfort his wife, and bringing with him some preacher or other, who used to preach unto them so long as the time would serve; and so departed by night again. The names of the preachers were master Reneses, master Best, master Brodbanke, master Russel: and every time they came thither they were about twenty or twenty-four sometimes, but sixteen at least, who had there also sometimes a communion, And thus in much fear did he with others lead his life, till the last year of the reign of queen Mary. Then it chanced that the said Jeffery Hurst, after the death of his father, came home, and kept himself close for seven or eight weeks.

    There dwelt not far off, at Morless, a certain justice of peace, and of the quorum, named master Thomas Lelond, who, hearing of him, appointed a time to come to his father’s house, where he then dwelt, to rifle the house for books, and to search for him also; and so did. Jeffery and his company, having knowledge of his coming, took the books which were in the house, as the Bible, the communion-book, and the New Testament of Tyndale’s translation, and divers others, and threw them all underneath a tub or fat, conveying also the said Jeffery under the same, with a great deal of straw underneath him; for, as it chanced, they had the more time, because that when the justice came almost to the door, he staid and would not enter the house till he had sent for Hurst’s mother’s landlady, mistress Shakerley; and then, with her consent, intended to go forwards. In the mean time, Jeffery, by such as were with him, was willed to lay in his window the Testament of Tyndale’s translation, and a little book containing the third part of the Bible, with the Book of Ecclesiasticus, to try what they would say unto them.

    This done, mistress Shakerley came; unto whom eftsoons the justice declared the muse of his coming, and how he was sorry to attempt any such thing against any of her tenants for her sake, but, notwithstanding, he must needs execute his office. “And again you must,” said he, “note this, that a scabbed sheep is able to infect a great number; and especially having, as he hath, so many brethren and sisters, he is able to mar them all, if he be not looked unto in time.” And thus concluding, master Lelond entered into the house; and being come in, set himself in a chair in the middle of the house; and, sending sir Ralph Parkinson his priest, and one of his men, and one of mistress Shakerley’s men about the house, to search and rifle the chests for books (who so did), in the mean time he talked with Hurst’s mother, being of the age almost of sixty years: and chiding with her that she would suffer her son so to order and behave himself like a heretic, said, “Thou old fool, I know myself that this new learning shall come again; but for how long? — even for three months or four months, and no longer. But I will lay thee, old fool, in Lancaster dungeon, for this gear; and well worthy.”

    Now as concerning the searchers, they found nothing but Latin books, as grammar, and such like. “These be not they that we look for,” said they, “we must see further:” and so looked into Hurst’s chamber, where they found the foresaid books. Then sir Ralph, taking up the Testament, looked on it, and smiled. His master seeing that, said, “Now, sir Ralph, what have we here?” “Forsooth,” saith he, “a Testament of Tyndale’s translation, plain heresy, and none worse than it.” “Then are all their goods,” saith he, “lost to the queen, and their bodies to prison:” and was wonderfully hasty; notwithstanding, through mistress Shakerley, for a space, he was content to see farther.

    Then the priest looked on the other book: “What say ye to, that, sir Ralph; is that as evil as the other?” “No,” said he, “but it is not good that they should have such English books to look on; for this and such others may do much harm.” Then he asked his, mother where her eldest son was, and her daughter Alice. She answered, she could not tell: they were not with her of long time before. And he swore by God’s body, he would make her tell where they were, or he would lay her in Lancaster dungeon; and yet he would have them notwithstanding too. To be short, for fear, he had his brother John Hurst and his mother bound in a hundred pounds, to bring the parties before him within fourteen days. And so departed he; and the priest put both the books in his bosom, and carried them away with him. Then John Hurst went after them, desiring that he might have the book which the priest found no fault with: but he said, they should answer to them both; and whichsoever was the better, was not good.

    As this passed on, when the time was come that Jeffery Hurst and his sister should be examined, the justice sent for them betimes in the morning, and had prepared a mass to begin withal, asking Jeffery Hurst if he would first go and see his maker, and then he would talk further with him. To whom when Jeffery answered and said; “Sir, my Maker is in heaven, and I am assured in going to your mass I shall find no edification thereby; and therefore I pray you hold me excused.” “Well, well,” said he, “I perceive I shall find you a heretic, by God! But I will go to mass, and I will not lose it, for all your prattling.”

    Then into his chapel he went; and when mass was done he sent for them, and caused his priest to read a scroll unto them, as concerning the seven sacraments. And ever as he spoke of the body and blood of Christ, he put off his cap, and said, “Lo! ye may see, you will deny these things, and care not for your prince; but you shall feel it ere I have done with you, and all the faculty of you:” with other talk more between them, I know not what.

    But in the end they were licensed to depart under sureties to appear again before him within three weeks, and then to go to Lancaster. Howbeit, in the mean while it so pleased God, that within four days of the day appointed, it was noised that the queen was dead, and within fourteen days after, the said Jeffery Hurst had his two books sent home, and nothing was said unto him.

    It followed after this, that God’s word began to take place, and the queen’s visitors came down into that country, who did choose four men in the parish, to wit, Simon Smith, Jeffery Hurst, Henry Brown, George Eccersly, which four were protestants, to see the queen’s proceedings to take place; who, according to their power, did the same. Notwithstanding it did little prevail; and therefore the said Jeffery, being sore grieved with the office, fell sick; in which sickness it pleased God to call him, making a very godly end — God have the praise for it!

    Now to return to the foresaid Thomas Lelond again, he, continuing in his office still, did very few times come to the church, but said he was aged, and might not labor: and there kept with him sir Ralph Parkinson his priest, which could (as it was said) minister the communion unto the people, and sing mass unto his master: yes, and (as fame reported) did a prettier feat than all that; for he begat two children by a servant in a house, his master knowing it, and saying nothing, for that he would not lose his good mass-priest.

    Furthermore, this was noted in the same justice Lelond’s behavior at service-time, that he had a little dog which he would play with all servicetime, and the same dog had a collar full of bells, so that the noise of them did molest and trouble others, as well as himself, from hearing the service.

    Also, in the same justice it was noted and observed, that as he sat in his chapel at service-time, his manner was on a willow-bark to knit knots, for that he could not be suffered to have his beads, and to put the same upon a string also. — Witness hereof Edward Hurst, with others.

    Furthermore, as concerning Henry Brown, one of the four chosen men above mentioned, this is also to be added, that the said Henry Brown, dwelling in the town of Pennington in the same parish, A.D. 1564, had a little boy, who, as he was playing in the town, one Glave’s wife gave unto the boy a pair of beads made of wood, for him to play withal. The little boy, being glad thereof to have such a trim thing, went home and showed his father of them. His father, seeing the beads, took them and burnt them; and when he had so done, went forth and asked who had given unto his little boy that pair of beads. “That did I,” said Glave’s wife. “Well,” said he, “I have burnt them.” “Hast thou so?” said she, and thrust him from her. “They shall be the dearest beads that ever thou sawest;” and incontinent went and complained unto the said justice, how Brown had burnt her beads.

    This matter the justice took sore to snuff, and was very angry, and did direct his letter unto the constables of the same town, by his own hand subscribed; the title of which superscription on the back side was this; “To the Constables of Pennington give this.”

    This (tone, the constables, according to this their charge, did bring him afore the justice at the time appointed; and when the justice came to talk with him, he was in such a heat, that he called him “thief;” and said, that he had robbed his neighbor in burning of her beads, and that there were rings and other jewels on them, and that he might as well have picked her purse; “wherefore,” said he, “I will lay thee in Lancaster dungeon, for this gear.”

    Whilst they were thus talking, there came all his servants about them from their work, saying, “Is this master Dr. Brown, that will burn beads? I pray you, sir, let us have him here and preach.” “I will give you a quarter’s wages,” saith one: “and I will give money,” saith another: “and he shall be master doctor;” with much derision and scoffing at this poor man.

    He, hearing this, spoke again boldly, and said; “Did you send, for me to make a laughing-stock of me? You be in office, and ought rather to come to the church, and see such papistry abolished yourself, than thus to trouble me for doing my duty: but, I tell you plainly, that you do not come to church as you ought to do, and therefore (with more things that I have to charge you withal) I say, you do not well.” When all this misdemeanor of the justice laid to his charge, would, not prevail, and also witness came in of the papists, which did know the beads, and testified that they were plain, and cost but a halfpenny, he then went into his prior in a chafe, and one master Exberston a papist with him; which Exberston turned back, and said, “Is it you, Henry Brown, that keepeth this stir? You are one of them that pulled down crosses in the church, and pulled down the rood-sollor a313 and all the saints; you were best now to go paint a black devil, and set him up and worship him, for that will serve well for your religion.” And thus, under suretiship, he did depart till July following, and then he said he should go to Lancaster prison; and so came he away.

    The time drew on that he should appear, but God stayed the matter, and in July, as the foresaid Thomas Lelond sat in his chair talking with his friends, he fell down suddenly dead, not much moving any joint. And thus was his end: from such God us defend!

    EXAMINATION OF WILLIAM WOOD OF KENT.

    The examination of William Wood baker, dwelling in the parish of Stroud, in the county of Kent, before Dr. Kenall chancellor of the diocese of Rochester, Dr. Chedsey, the mayor of Rochester, and master Robinson the scribe, the 19th day of October, and in the second year of queen Mary, in St. Nicholas’ church in Rochester. Robinson: — “William Wood! you are presented, because you will not come to the church, nor receive the blessed sacrament of the altar.

    How say you? have you received, or have you not?” Wood: — “I have not received it, nor dare I receive it, as you now minister it.” Kenall: — “Thou heretic! what is the cause that thou hast not received the blessed sacrament of the altar?” And at this word, all they put off their caps, and made low obeisance. Wood: — “There be three causes that make my conscience afraid, that I dare not receive it. The first; Christ did deliver it to his twelve apostles, and said, ‘Take, eat, and drink ye all of this,’ etc.; and ye eat and drink up all alone. The second cause is, you hold it to be worshipped, contrary to God’s commandment, Thou shalt not bow down nor worship. The third cause is, you minister it in a strange tongue, contrary to St. Paul’s doctrine, ‘I had rather have five words with understanding, than ten thousand with tongues:’ by reason whereof the people be ignorant of the death of Christ.” Kenall: — “Thou heretic, wilt thou have any plainer words than these: ‘Take, eat, this is my body?’ Wilt thou deny the Scripture?” Wood: — “I will not deny the holy Scriptures, God forbid! but with my heart I do faithfully believe them. St. Paul saith, ‘God calleth those things that are not, as though they were:’ and Christ saith, ‘I am a vine, I am a door.’ St. Paul saith, ‘The rock is Christ:’ all which are figurative speeches, wherein one thing is spoken, and another thing is understood.” Robinson: — “You make a very long tale of this matter: learn, Wood, learn.” Kenall: — “Nay, these heretics will not learn: look how this heretic glorieth in himself. Thou fool! art thou wiser than the queen and her council, and all the learned men of this realm?” Wood: — “And please you, master chancellor, I think you would be loth to have such glory, to have your life and goods taken away, and to be thus called upon, as you rail upon me: but the servant is not greater than his Master. And whereas you do mock me, and say that I am wiser than the queen and her council, St. Paul saith, ‘The wisdom of the wise of this world, is foolishness before God; and he that will be wise in this world, shall be accounted but a fool.’” Kenall: — “Dost not thou believe that after these words spoken by a priest, ‘This is my body,’ there remaineth no more bread and wine, but the very flesh and blood of Christ, as he was born of the Virgin Mary, really and substantially, in quantity and quality, as he did hang upon the cross?” Wood: — “I pray you, master chancellor, give me leave, for my learning, to ask you one question, and I will answer you after.” Kenall: — “It is some wise question, I warrant you.” Wood: — “God spoke to the prophet Ezekiel, saying, ‘Thou son of man, take a razor, and. shave off the hair of thy head and of thy beard.

    And take one part, and cast into the air; take the second part, and put it into thy coat-lap; and take the third part, and cast it into the fire: and this is Jerusalem. (Ezekiel 5.) I pray you, master chancellor, was this hair that the prophet did cast into the fire, or was it Jerusalem?” Kenall: — “No; it did signify Jerusalem.” Wood: — “Even so in this word of Christ, ‘This is my body,’ is not to be understood, that Christ’s carnal, natural, and real body is in the same, in quantity and quality, as it was born of the Virgin Mary, and as he was crucified upon the cross, is present or enclosed in the sacrament: but it doth signify Christ’s body, as St. Paul saith, ‘So oft as ye do eat of this bread and drink of this cup, ye shall show forth the Lord’s death till he come.’ What should the apostle mean by this word, ‘till he come,’ if he were here carnally, naturally, corporally, and really, in the same quantity and quality as he was born of the Virgin Mary, and as he did hang on the cross, as you say? But St. Paul saith, ‘You shall show the Lord’s death till he come.’ This doth argue, that he is not here, as you would have us to believe.” Chedsey: — “I will prove that Christ is here present under the form of bread:. but not in quantity and quality.” Dr. Kenall said, “Yes, he is present in quantity and quality.” Chedsey: — “He is here present under a form, and not in quantity and quality.” “Yes!” said Kenall. “No! ” said Chedsey. “I will prove him here in quantity and quality!” said Kenall. “I will prove the contrary,” said Chedsey.

    And these two doctors were so earnest in this matter, the one to, affirm, the other to deny, contending and raging so sore one at the other, that they foamed at the mouth, and one was ready to spit in another’s face; so that in great fury and rage the two doctors rose up from the judgment-seat, and Dr. Kenall departed out of the church in great rage and fury immediately. Wood: — “Behold, good people, they would have us to believe, that Christ is naturally, really, in quantity and quality, present in the sacrament; and yet they cannot tell themselves, nor agree within themselves, how he is there!”

    At these words the people made a great shout, and the mayor stood up, and commanded the people to be quiet, and to keep silence. And the God that did deliver St. Paul out of the hands of the high priests, by the contention that was between the Pharisees and Sadducees, did even so deliver me at that time out of the mouths of the bloody papists, by the means of the contention of these two doctors. Blessed be the name of the Lord, which hath promised to lay no more upon his, than he will make them able to bear, and in the midst of temptation he can make way for his (how, and, when it pleaseth him), to escape out of all dangers.

    Many other like examples of God’s helping hand have been declared upon his elect saints and children, in delivering them out of danger by wonderful and miraculous ways, some by one means, some by another. What a notable work of God’s mighty hand was seen in Simon Grinaeus, mentioned in the commentary of Melancthon upon Daniel; who, having a sudden warning by a certain old man, who was not seen after, nor known then of any what he was, avoided the peril of taking and burning, as by the relation of Melancthon, writing and witnessing the same, may appear in the words of his own story here following.

    THE HISTORY OF SIMON GRINAEUS, COLLECTED OUT OF MELANCTHON’S COMMENTARIES UPON THE TENTH CHAPTER OF DANIEL. f466 When I was, saith he, at the assembly holden at Spire, in the year of our Lord 1539, by chance Simon Grinaeus came thither unto me from the university of Heidelberg, where he heard Faber, the bishop of Vienna, in a sermon, defend and maintain certain detestable errors. When the sermon was done, he followed Faber going out of the church, and saluted him reverently, declaring unto him that he was moved of a goodly zeal and intent, somewhat to say unto him. Faber was contented to talk with him. f467 Then Grinaeus said unto him, that he was very sorry that a man of such learning and authority should openly maintain such errors as were both contumelious against God, and also might be refuted by the manifest testimonies of the Scriptures. “Ireneus writeth,” said he, “that Polycarp was wont to stop his ears, whensoever he heard any erroneous and wicked doctrine. With what mind then (think you) would Polycarp have heard you argue and reason what it is that the mouse eateth, when he gnaweth the consecrated host? Who would not bewail such ignorance and blindness of the church?”

    With this Faber brake off his talk, as he was about to say more, and asked his name. This man, dissembling nothing, gently told him that his name was Grinaeus. This Faber, as many well know, was also timorous and fearful in the company of learned men.

    Wherefore he, fearing the learning, eloquence, and fervent zeal of Grinaeus, specially in such a matter as this was, feigned as though he had been sent for by the king, and that he had no leisure now to reason upon this matter. He pretended that he was very desirous of acquaintance and longer talk with Grinaeus, entreating him, that both for his own private cause, and also for the commonwealth, he would come again the next day unto him; and so showed him his lodging, and appointed him an hour when he should come.

    Grinaeus, thinking that he had spoken unfeignedly, promised so to do.

    When he was departed from Faber, he came straightway unto us, and was scarcely set at the table (for it was supper time), reciting a part of his talk with Faber unto me and others there present, when I, sitting with my company, was suddenly called out of the parlor by a certain ancient fatherly man, who, showing a singular gravity in his countenance, words, and behavior, spoke unto me, and said, that the sergeants would by and by come unto our lodging, being sent by the king’s commandment, to carry Grinaeus to prison, whom Faber had accused to the king: commanding that Grinaeus should straightways depart out of the town; and exhorted me, that we should in no case delay the time. And so, bidding me farewell, departed. But what old man this was, neither did I know then, nor afterward could I understand. I, returning again unto my company, bade them rise, and told them what the old man had said unto me.

    By and by, we, taking Grinaeus in the midst of us, carried him through the street to the river Rhine, where after we had staid upon the hither bank awhile, until Grinaeus with his companion were carried over in a small boat, returning again to our lodging, we understood that the sergeants had been there, when we were but a little way gone out of the house. Now in what great danger Grinaeus should have been, if he had been carried to prison by is cruelty of Faber, every man easily may conjecture: wherefore we judged, that that most cruel intent and purpose of him, was disappointed by God’s merciful providence. And as I cannot say what old man it was, that gave me that warning, even so likewise the sergeants made such quick speed, that except Grinaeus had been covered and defended by the angels, through the marvelous providence Of God, he could never have escaped.

    Concerning the truth of this matter, there be many good men yet alive, which know both the same, and also were present at the doing thereof. Therefore let us give thanks unto God, which hath given us his angels to be our keepers and defenders, whereby with more quiet minds we may fulfil and do the office of our vocation.

    With such like examples of God’s mighty and merciful custody, the church of Christ in all ages doth abound, as by manifold experiences may appear as well among the Germans, as also in other places and ages; but in no place more, nor in any time more plentiful, than in this persecuting time of queen Mary, in this our realm of England, as partly hath been already historied, and part yet remaineth (the Lord willing), moreover, hereunto to be added.

    THE LADY KATHERINE, DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK.

    Stephen Gardiner bishop of Winchester, surmising the lady Katherine, baroness of Willoughby and Eresby, and duchess dowager of Suffolk, to be one of his ancient enemies, because he knew he had deserved no better of her, devised, in the holy time of the first Lent in queen Mary’s reign, a holy practice of revenge, first touching her in the person of her husband, master Richard Berty esquire, for whom he sent an attachment (having the great seal at his devotion) to the sheriff of Lincolnshire, with a special letter commanding most straitly the same sheriff to attach the said Richard immediately, and without bail to bring him up to London, to his great lordship. Master Berty her husband, being clear in conscience, and free from offense toward the queen, could not conjecture any cause of this strange process, unless it were some quarrel for religion, which he thought could not be so sore as the process pretended. The sheriff, notwithstanding the commandment, adventured only to take the bond of Master Berty, with two sureties in a thousand pounds, for his appearance to be made before the bishop on Good Friday following, at which day master Berty appeared, the bishop then lying at his house by St. Mary Overy’s. Of whose presence when the bishop understood by a gentleman of his chamber, in a great rage he came out of his gallery into his diningchamber, where he found a press of suitors, saying he would not that day hear any, but came forth only to know of master Berry, how he, being a subject, durst so arrogantly set at light two former processes of the queen.

    Master Berry answered, that albeit my lord’s words might seem to the rest, somewhat sharp toward him, yet he conceived great comfort of them. For whereas he, before, thought it extremity to be attached, having used no obstinacy or contumacy, now he gathered of those words, that my lord meant not otherwise but to have used some ordinary process; albeit indeed none came to his hands. “Yea marry,” quoth the bishop, “I have sent you two subpoenas, to appear immediately: and I am sure you received them, for I committed the trust of them to no worse man but to master solicitor. And I shall make you an example to all Lincolnshire, for your obstinacy!” Master Berry denying the receipt of any, humbly prayed his lordship to suspend his displeasure and the punishment till he had good trial thereof; and then, if it please him, to double the pain for the fault, if any were. “Well,” quoth the bishop, “I have appointed myself this day (according to the holiness of the same) for devotion, and I will not further trouble me with you: but I enjoin you in a thousand pounds not to depart; without leave, and to be here again to-morrow at seven of the clock.”

    Master Berry well observed the hour, and no jot failed; at which time the bishop had with him master sergeant Stampford, to whom he moved certain questions of the said master Berry, because master sergeant was towards the lord Wriothesley, late earl of Southampton and chancellor of England, with whom the said master Berty was brought up. Master sergeant made very friendly report of master Berty, of his own knowledge, for the time of their conversation together. Whereupon the bishop caused master Berty to be brought in, and first making a false train (as God would, without fire) before he would descend to the quarrel of religion, he assaulted him in this manner: “The queen’s pleasure is,” quoth the bishop, “that you shall make present payment of four thousand pounds, due to her father by duke Charles, late husband to the duchess your wife, whose executor she was.” “Pleaseth it your lordship,” quoth master Berty, “that debt is estalled, and is according to that estallment truly answered.” “Tush!” quoth the bishop, “the queen will not be bound to estallments in the time of Kett’s government: for so I esteem the late government.” “The estallment,” quoth master Berty, “was appointed by king Henry the eighth: besides, the same was by special commissioners confirmed in king Edward’s time; and the lord treasurer, being an executor also to the duke Charles solely and wholly, took upon him, before the said commissioners, to discharge the same.” “If it be true that you say,” quoth the bishop, “I will show you favor. But of another thing, master Berty, I will admonish you, as meaning you well. I hear evil of your religion; yet I hardly can think evil of you, whose mother I know to be as godly and catholic as any within this land; yourself brought up with a master, whose education if I should disallow, I might be charged as author of his error. Besides, partly I know you myself, and understand of my friends enough to make me your friend: wherefore I will not doubt of you. But, I pray you, if I may ask the question of my lady your wife, is she now as ready to set up the mass, as she was lately to pull it down, when she caused in her progress, a dog in a rochet to be carried, and called by my name? or doth she think her lambs now safe enough, which said to me, when I veiled my bonnet to her out of my chamber-window in the Tower, that it was merry with the lambs, now the wolf was shut up? Another time, my lord her husband, having invited me, and divers ladies to dinner, desired every lady to choose him whom she loved best, and so place themselves. My lady your wife, taking me by the hand, for that my lord would not have her to take himself, said, that forasmuch as she could not sit down with my lord whom she loved best, she had chosen him whom she loved worst.” “Of the device of the dog,” quoth master Berty, “she was neither the author, nor the allower. The words, though in that season they sounded bitter to your lordship, yet if it would please you without offense to know the cause, I am sure the one will purge the other.

    As touching setting up of mass, which she learned not only by strong persuasions of divers excellent learned men, but by universal consent and order whole six years past, inwardly to abhor, if she should outwardly allow, she should both to Christ show herself a false Christian, and to her prince a masking subject. You know, my lord, one by judgment reformed, is more worth than a thousand transformed temporizers. To force a confession of religion by mouth, contrary to that in the heart, worketh damnation, where salvation is pretended.” “Yea marry,” quoth the bishop, “that deliberation would do well, if she were required to come from an old religion to a new. But now, she is to return from a new to an ancient religion: wherein, when she made me her gossip, she was as earnest as any.” “For that, my lord,” said master Berty, “not long since, she answered a friend of hers, using your lordship’s speech, that religion went not by age, but by truth: and therefore she was to be turned by persuasion, and not by commandment.” “I pray you,” quoth the bishop, “think you it possible to persuade her?” “Yea verily,” said master Berty, “with the truth: for she is reasonable enough.”

    The bishop thereunto replying, said, “It will be a marvelous grief to the prince of Spain, and to all the nobility that shall come with him, when they shall find but two noble personages of the Spanish race within this land, the queen, and my lady your wife; and one of them gone from the faith.”

    Master Berty answered, that he trusted they should find no fruits of infidelity in her.

    So the bishop persuaded master Berty to travail earnestly for the reformation of her opinion; and, offering large friendship, released him of his bond from further appearance.

    The duchess and her husband, daily more and more by their friends understanding that the bishop meant to call her to an account of her faith, whereby extremity might follow, devised ways how, by the queen’s license, they might pass the seas. Master Berty had a ready mean; for there rested great sums of money due to the old duke of Suffolk (one of whose executors the duchess was), beyond the seas, the emperor himself being one of those debtors. Master Betty communicated this his purposed suit for license to pass the seas, and the cause, to the bishop, adding, that he took this time most meet to deal with the emperor, by reason of likelihood of marriage between the queen and his son. “I like your device well,” quoth the bishop; “but I think it better that you tarry the prince’s coming, and I will procure you his letters also to his father.” “Nay,” quoth master Berty, “under your lordship’s correction and pardon of so liberal speech, I suppose the time will then be less convenient: for when the marriage is consummate, the emperor hath his desire; but, till then, he will refuse nothing, to win credit with us.” “By St. Mary,” quoth the bishop, smiling, “you guess shrewdly.

    Well, proceed in your suit to the queen, and it shall not lack my helping hand.”

    Master Berty found so good success, that he in few days obtained the queen’s license, not only to pass the seas, but to pass and repass them so often as to him seemed good, till he had finished all his business and causes beyond the seas. So he passed the seas at Dover about the beginning of June, in the first year of her reign, leaving the duchess behind, who, by agreement and consent betwixt her and her husband, followed, taking barge at Lion-quay, very early in the morning, on the first day of January next ensuing, not without some peril.

    There were none of those that went with her, made privy to her going till the instant, but an old gentleman, called master Robert Cranwell, whom master Berty had specially provided for that purpose. She took with her her daughter (an infant of one year), and the meanest of her servants, for she doubted the best would not adventure that fortune with her. They were in number four men, one a Greek born, which was a rider of horses, another a joiner, the third a brewer, the fourth a fool, one of the kitchen, one gentlewoman, and a laundress.

    As she departed her house called the Barbican, betwixt four and five of the clock in the morning, with her company and baggage, one Atkinson a herald, keeper of her house, hearing noise about the house, rose, and came out with a torch in his hands as she was yet issuing out of the gate: wherewith being amazed, she was forced to leave a mail with necessaries for her young daughter, and a milk-pot with milk in the same gatehouse, commanding all her servants to speed them away before, to Lion-quay. And taking with her only the two women and her child, so soon as she was forth of her own house, perceiving the herald to follow, stept in at Charter-house hard by. The herald, coming out of the duchess’s house, and seeing nobody stirring, nor assured (though by the mail suspecting) that she was departed, returned in; and while he stayed ransacking parcels left in the mail, the duchess issued into the streets, and proceeded in her journey, she knowing the place only by name, where she should take her boat, but not the way thither, nor any with her. Likewise her servants having divided themselves, none but one knew the way to the said quay.

    So she appeared like a mean merchant’s wife, and the rest like mean servants, walking in the streets unknown. She took the way that led to Finsbury-field, and the others walked the city streets as they lay open before them, till by chance, more than discretion, they met all suddenly together a little within Moorgate, from whence they passed directly to Lion-quay, and there took barge in a morning so misty, that the steerman was loth to launch out, but that they urged him. So soon as the day permitted, the council was informed of her departure; and some of them came forthwith to her house, to inquire of the manner thereof, and took an inventory of her goods, besides further order devised for search and watch to apprehend and stay her.

    The fame of her departure reached to Leigh, a town at the land’s end, f469 before her approaching thither. By Leigh dwelt one Gosling, a merchant of London, an old acquaintance of Cranwell’s, whither the said Cranwell brought the duchess, naming her mistress White, the daughter of master Gosling; for such a daughter he had, which never was in that country.

    There she reposed her, and made new garments for her daughter, having lost her own in the mail at Barbican.

    When the time came that she should take ship, being constrained that night to lie at an inn in Leigh (where she was again almost bewrayed), yet notwithstanding, by God’s good working she escaped that hazard. At length, as the tide and wind did serve, they went abroad, and being carried twice into the seas, almost into the coast of Zealand, by contrary wind were driven to the place from whence they came; and, at the last recoil, certain persons came to the shore, suspecting she was within that ship; yet having examined one of her company that was a-land for fresh achates, f470 and finding, by the simplicity of his tale, only the appearance of a mean merchant’s wife to be a-shipboard, he ceased any further search.

    To be short, so soon as the duchess had landed in Brabant, she and her women were appareled like the women of the Netherlands with hukes ; a314 and so she and her husband took their journey towards Cleveland, and being arrived at a town therein called Santon, took a house there, until they might further devise of some sure place, where to settle themselves.

    About five miles from Santon, is a free town called Wesell, under the said duke of Cleve’s dominion, and one of the Hans towns, privileged with the company of the Steelyard in London, whither divers Walloons were fled for religion, and had for their minister one Francis Perusell, then called Francis de Rivers, who had received some courtesy in England at the duchess’s hands. Master Berty, being yet at Santon, practised with him to obtain a protection from the magistrates for his abode and his wife’s at Wesell; which was the sooner procured, because the state of the duchess ‘was not discovered, but only to the chief magistrate, earnestly bent to show them pleasure, while this protection was in seeking.

    In the mean while, at the town of Santon was a muttering that the duchess and her husband were greater personages than they gave themselves forth; and the magistrates not very well inclined to religion, the bishop of Arras also being dean of the great minster, order was taken, that the duchess and her husband should be examined of their condition and religion upon the sudden. Which practice discovered by a gentleman of that country to master Berty, he without delay, taking no more than the duchess, her daughter, and two others with them, as though he meant no more but to take the air, about three of the clock in the afternoon in February, on foot, without hiring of horse or waggon for fear of disclosing his purpose, meant to get privily that night to Wesell, leaving his other family still at Santon.

    After the duchess and he were one English mile from the town, there fell a mighty rain of continuance, whereby a long frost and ice, before congealed, was thawed, which doubled more the weariness of those new lacquies.

    But, being now on the way, and overtaken with the night, they sent their two servants (which only went with them) to villages as they passed, to hire some ear for their ease, but none could be hired. In the mean time master Berty was forced to carry the child, and the duchess his cloak and rapier. At last, betwixt six and seven of the clock in the dark night, they came to Wesell, and repairing to the inns for lodging, and some repose after such a painful journey, found hard entertainment; for going from inn to inn offering large money for small lodging, they were refused of all the innholders, suspecting master Berty to be a lance-knight, and the duchess to be his woman. The child for cold and sustenance cried pitifully; the mother wept as fast; the heavens rained as fast as the clouds could pour.

    Master Berry, destitute of all other succor of hospitality, resolved to bring the duchess to the porch of the great church in the town, and so to buy coals, victuals, and straw for their miserable repose there that night, or at least till by God’s help he might provide her better lodging. Master Berty at that time understood not much Dutch, and by reason of evil weather and late season of the night, he could not happen upon any that could speak English, French, Italian, or Latin; till at last going towards the churchporch, he heard two striplings talking Latin, to whom he approached, and offered them two stivers to bring him to some Walloon’s house.

    By these boys, and God’s good conduct, he chanced at the first upon the house where master Perusell supped that night, who had procured them the protection of the magistrates of that town. At the first knock, the good man of the house himself came to the door, and opening it, asked master Berty what he was. Master Berty said, “An Englishman, that sought for one master Perusell’s house.” The Walloon willed master Betty to stay a while, who went back, and told master Perusell, that the same English gentleman, of whom they had talked the same supper, had sent by likelihood his servant to speak with him. Whereupon master Perusell came to the door, and beholding master Berty, the duchess, and their child, their faces, apparels, and bodies so far from their old form, deformed with dirt, weather, and heaviness, could not speak to them, nor they to him, for tears. At length recovering themselves, they saluted one another, and so together entered the house, God knoweth full joyfully; master Berry changing his apparel with the good man, the duchess with the good wife, and their child with the child of the house.

    Within few days after, by master Perusell’s means, they hired a very fair house in the town, and did not let to show themselves what they were, in such good sort as their present condition permitted. It was by this time through the whole town what discourtesy the inn-holders had showed unto them at their entry, insomuch as on the Sunday following, a preacher in the pulpit openly, in sharp terms, rebuked that great incivility toward strangers, by allegation of sundry places out of holy Scriptures, discoursing how not only princes sometimes are received in the image of private persons, but angels in the shape of men; and that God of his justice would make them strangers one day in another land, to have more sense of the afflicted heart of a stranger.

    The time thus passing forth, as they thought themselves thus happily settled, suddenly a watchword came from sir John Mason , a315 then queen Mary’s ambassador in the Netherlands, that my lord Paget had reigned an errand to the baths that way: and whereas the duke of Brunswick was shortly with ten ensigns to pass by Wesell, for the service of the house of Austria against the French king, the said duchess and her husband should be with the same charge and company intercepted.

    Wherefore, to prevent the cruelty of these enemies, master Betty with his wife and child departed to a place called Windsheim, in high Dutchland, under the Palsgrave’s dominion; where, under his protection, they continued till their necessaries began to fail them, and they, almost fainting under so heavy a burden, began to fail of hope.

    At that time, in the midst of their despair, there came suddenly letters to them from the palatine of Wilna, and the king of Poland (being instructed of their hard estate by a baron, named John Alasco, that was sometime in England), offering them large courtesy. This provision unlooked for, greatly revived their heavy spirits; yet, considering they should remove from many their countrymen and acquaintance, to a place so far distant, a country not haunted with the English, and perhaps upon their arrival not finding as they looked for, the end of their journey should be worse than the beginning; they devised thereupon with one master Barlow, late bishop of Chichester, that if he would vouchsafe to take some pains therein, they would make him a fellow of that journey. So, finding him prone, they sent with him letters of great thanks to the king and palatine; and also with a few principal jewels (which only they had left of many), to solicit for them, that the king would vouchsafe under his seal, to assure them of the thing which he so honorably by letters offered.

    That suit, by the forwardness of the palatine, was as soon granted as uttered; upon which assurance the said duchess and her husband, with their family, entered the journey in April, 1557, from the castle of Windsheim, where they before lay, towards Frankfort: in the which their journey, it were long here to describe what dangers fell by the way upon them and their whole company, by reason of their landgrave’s captain, who, under a quarrel pretensed for a spaniel of master Berry’s, set upon them in the highway with his horsemen, thrusting their boar-spears through the waggon where the children and women were, master Berty having but four horsemen with him. In the which brabble it happened the captain’s horse to be slain under him.

    Whereupon a rumor was sparsed immediately through towns and villages about, that the landgrave’s captain should be slain by certain Walloons, which incensed the ire of the countrymen there more fiercely against master Berty, as afterward it proved. For as he was motioned by his wife to save himself by the swiftness of his horse, and to recover some town thereby for his rescue, he, so doing, was in worse ease than before; for the townsmen and the captain’s brother, supposing no less but that the captain had been slain, pressed so eagerly upon him, that he had been there taken and murdered among them, had not he (as God would), spying a ladder leaning to a window, by the same got up into the house, and so gone up into a garret in the top of the house, where he with his dagge a316 and rapier defended himself for a space; but at length, the burgomaster coming thither with another magistrate which could speak Latin, he was counseled to submit himself to the order of the law. Master Berty, knowing himself clear, and the captain to be alive, was the more bold to submit himself to the judgment of the law, upon condition that the magistrate would receive him under safe-conduct, and defend him from the rage of the multitude.

    Which being promised, master Berry putteth himself and his weapon into the magistrate’s hand, and so was committed to safe custody, while the truth of his cause should be tried.

    Then master Berry, writing his letters to the landgrave, and to the earl of Erpach, the next day early in the morning the earl of Erpach, dwelling within eight miles, came to the town whither the duchess was brought with her waggon, master Berry also being in the same town, under custody.

    The earl, who had some intelligence of the duchess before, after he was come and had showed such courtesy as he thought to her estate was seemly, the townsmen perceiving the earl to behave himself so humbly unto her, began to consider more of the matter; and further, understanding the captain to be alive, both they, and especially the authors of the stir, shrank away, and made all the friends they could to master Berty and his wife, not to report their doings after the worst sort.

    And thus; master Berty and his wife, escaping that danger, proceeded in their journey toward Poland, where in conclusion they were quietly entertained of the king, and placed honorably in the earldom of the said king of Poland, in Sanogelia, called Crozan, where master Berty with the duchess, having the king’s absolute power of government over the said earldom, continued both in great quietness and honor, till the death of queen Mary.

    A STORY OF THOMAS HORTON, MINISTER.

    As ye have heard of the dangerous trouble of the duchess of Suffolk in the time of her exile for religion’ sake, whom notwithstanding the Lord’s present protection still delivered in all distresses, as well from her enemies in England, as in Dutchland from the lance-knights there: so have we no less to behold and magnify the Lord’s merciful goodness in preserving of Thomas Horton from the like perils of the same country; which Thomas Horton, what a profitable instrument he was to the church of Christ in queen Mary’s, time, all our Englishmen almost, beyond the seas then, did both know and feel.

    This good Thomas Horton, as he used oftentimes to travel between Germany and England, for the behoof and sustenance of the poor English exiles there: so he, journeying upon a time between Maestricht and Cologne, chanced to be taken there by certain rovers; and so, being led by them away, was in no little danger: and yet this danger of his was not so great, but the present help of the Lord was greater to aid and deliver him out of the same. a317 THOMAS SPRAT, OF KENT, TANNER.

    Unto these afore-rehearsed examples of God’s blessed providence towards his servants, may also be added the happy deliverance of Thomas Sprat and William Porrege his companion, now minister; whose story briefly to course over, is this.

    This Thomas Sprat had been servant sometime to one master Brent, a justice, and a heavy persecutor; and therefore, forsaking his master for religion’ sake, he went to Calais, from whence he used often with the said William Porrege, for their necessary affairs, to have recourse into England.

    It so happened, about the fourth year of queen Mary’s reign, that they, landing upon a time at Dover, and taking their journey together toward Sandwich, suddenly, upon the way, within three miles of Dover, met with the foresaid master Brent, the two Blachendens, and other gentlemen more, with their servants, to the number of ten or twelve horses: of the which two Blachendens, being both haters and enemies of God’s word and people, the one had perfect knowledge of William Porrege; the other had not seen him, but only had heard of his name before.

    Thus they, being in the way where this justice with his mates should meet them directly in the face, Thomas Sprat, first espying master Brent, was sore dismayed, saying to his companion, “Yonder is master Brent, William Porrege; God have mercy upon us!” “Well,” quoth the other, “seeing now there is no remedy, let us go on our way.” And so thinking to pass by them, they kept themselves aloof, as it were a score off from them, Thomas Sprat also shadowing his face with his cloak.

    Notwithstanding, one of master Brent’s servants advising him better than his master did, “Yonder,” said he to his master, “is Thomas Sprat:” at which words they all reined their horses, and called for Thomas Sprat to come to them. “They call you,” said William Porrege. “Now here is no remedy but we are taken.” And so persuaded him to go to them being called, for that there was no escaping from so many horsemen in those plains and downs, where was no wood near them by a mile, nor hedge neither, but only one, which was a bird-bolt shot off. a318 All this notwithstanding, Sprat staid, and would not go. Then they called again, sitting still on horseback. “Ah, sirrah,” quoth the justice, “why come ye not hither?” And still his companion moved him to go, seeing there was no other shift to flee away. “Nay,” said Sprat, “I will not go to them;” and therewithal took to his legs, running to the hedge that was next him. They, seeing that, set spurs to their horses, thinking by and by to have him, and that it was impossible for him to escape their hands; as it was indeed, they being on horseback, and he on foot, had not the Lord miraculously delivered his silly servant from the gaping mouth of the lion ready to devour him. For as God would, so it fell out that he had got over the hedge, scrawling through the bushes, when they were even at his heels, striking at him with their swords; one of the Blachendens crying cruelly, “Cut off one of his legs!”

    Thus Sprat had scarcely recovered the hedge from his enemies, when one of master Brent’s servants, which had been fellow sometime in house with him, followed him in his boots; and certain rode up at one side of the hedge, and certain at the other, to meet him at the upper end.

    Now while they were following the chase after Thomas Sprat, only one remained with William Porrege (who was one of the Blaehendens; not he which knew him, but the other), who began to question with him, not asking what was his name (as God would), for then he had been known and taken: but from whence he came, and how he came into Sprat’s company, and whither he went? Unto whom he answered and said, From Calais, and that Sprat came over with him in the passage-boat, and they two were going to Sandwich; and so without any more questions he let him depart.

    Anon, as he kept along the hedge, one of the horsemen which rode after Sprat, returning back, and meeting with the said William Porrege, demanded the very same questions as the other had done, to whom he made also the like answer as afore; and so departed, taking another contrary way from the meeting of the other horsemen. And thus William Porrege escaped.

    Now concerning Thomas Sprat, he being pursued on the one side by horsemen, and on the other side by his own fellow, who followed after him in his boots, crying, “You were as good to tarry, for we will have you, we will have you.” Yet notwithstanding, he kept still on his course, till at length he came to a steep down-hill at the hedge-end, down the which hill he ran from them; for they could not ride down the hill, but must fetch a great compass about. And so this Thomas Sprat ran almost a mile, and (as God would) got a wood.

    By that time he came to the wood, they were even at his heels: but the night drew on, and it began to rain, and so the malice of these persecutors was at an end, the Lord working for his servants, whose name be praised for ever and ever, Amen.

    Not long after this, one of the two Blachendens aforesaid, which so cruelly sought the destruction of others, was cruelly murdered by his own servants.

    THE TROUBLE OF JOHN CORNET.

    Here might also be recited the hard adventures and sufferings of John Cornet, and at length his deliverance, by God’s good working, but of the same; who, being a prentice with a minstrel at Colchester, was sent by his master about the second year of queen Mary’s reign, to a wedding in a town there by, called Rough-hedge, where he, being requested by a company there of good men, the constables also of the parish being present thereat, to sing some songs of the Scripture, chanced to sing a song called “News out of London,” which tended against the mass, and against the queen’s misproceedings.

    Whereupon the next day he was accused by the parson of Rough-hedge, called Yacksley; and so committed, first to the constable, where both his master gave him over, and his mother forsook and cursed him. From thence he was sent to the next justice, named master Cannall, and then to the earl of Oxford, where he was first put in irons and chains, and after that so manacled, that the blood spirted out of his fingers’ ends, because he would not confess the names of them which allured him to sing.

    And marvel it was that the cruel papists were so contented, that they sent him not also to bishop Bonner, to suffer the extremity of the fire. But God’s gracious providence disposed otherwise for his servant: for after he was manacled, the earl commanded him to be brought again to the town of Rough-hedge, and there to be whipped till the blood followed, and to be banished the town for ever: and so he was, during all the time of queen Mary.

    THOMAS BRYCE, A319 If our story should proceed so wide and so large, as did the exceeding mercy of God’s providence in he]ping his servants out of wretchedness and thraldom of those bloody days, our treatise (I think) would extend to an endless process. For what good man or woman, was there almost in all this time of queen Mary, who either in carrying a good conscience out of the ]and, or tarrying within the realm, could well escape the papists’ hands, but by some notable experience of the Lord’s mighty power and helping hand working for him? What should! here speak of the miraculous deliverance of Thomas Bryce? who, being in the house of John Seal, in the parish of Horting, and the bailiff with other neighbors coming in, sent by sir John Baker to search and apprehend him, and knowing perfectly both his stature and color of his garments, yet had no power to see or know him standing before their faces. So mightily the Lord did blind their eyes, that they asking for him, and looking upon him, yet notwithstanding he quietly took up his bag of books, and so departed out of the house without any hand laid upon him.

    Also another time, about the second year of queen Mary, the said Thomas Bryce, with John Bryce his elder brother, coming then from Wesel, meeting together at their father’s house, as they journeyed towards London, to give warning there to one Springfield, which else was like to be taken unawares by his enemies, waiting for him upon Gad’s-hill, fell in company with a promoter, who dogged them and followed them again to Gravesend, into the town, and laid the house for them where they were, and all the ways as they should go to the water’s side; so that it had not been possible for them to have avoided the present danger of those persecutors, had not the Lord’s provident care otherwise disposed for his servants, through the hosteler of the inn, covertly to convey them by a secret passage; whereby they took barge a mile out of the town, and so in the end both the lives of them, and also of Springfield were preserved, through the Lord’s gracious protection.

    GERTRUDE CROKHAY.

    Gertrude Crokhay dwelling at St. Katherine’s by the Tower of London, and being then in her husband’s house, it happened in the year 1558, that the pope’s childish St. Nicholas went about the parish; which she understanding, shut her door against him, not suffering him to enter into her house. Then Dr. Mallet hearing thereof, and being then master of the said St. Katherine’s, the next day came to her with twenty at his tail, thinking belike to fray her, and asked why she would not the night before let in St. Nicholas, and receive his blessing, etc.: to whom she answered thus: “Sir, I know no St. Nicholas,” said she, “that came hither.” “Yes,” quoth Mallet, “here was one that represented St;. Nicholas.” “Indeed, sir,” said she, “there was one that was my neighbor’s child, but not St.

    Nicholas; for St. Nicholas is in heaven. I was afraid of them that came with him, to have had my purse cut by them: for I have heard of men robbed by St. Nicholas’s clerics, etc. So Mallet, perceiving that nothing could be gotten at her hands, went his way as he came, and she for that time so escaped. Then, in the year 1557, a little before Whitsuntide, it happened that the said Gertrude answered for a child that was baptized of one Thomas Saunders, which child was christened secretly in a house after the order of the service-book in king Edward’s time; and that being, shortly known to her enemies, she was sought for; who, understanding nothing thereof, went beyond the sea into Gelderland, to see certain lands that should come to her children in the right of her first husband, who was a stranger born, and being there about a quarter of a year, at the length coming homeward by Antwerp, she chanced to meet with one John Johnson, a Dutchman, alias John de Villa, of Antwerp, shipper a320 , who seeing her there, went of malice to the margrave, and accused her to be an Anabaptist, whereby she was taken and carried to prison. The cause why this naughty man did thus, was, for that he claimed of master Crokhay her husband a piece of money which was not his due, for a ship that master Crokhay bought of him; and for that he could not get it, he wrought this displeasure. Well, she being in prison, lay there a fortnight; in the which time she saw some that were prisoners there, who privily were drowned in Rhenish wine-fats, and after secretly put in sacks, and cast into the river.

    Now she, good woman, thinking to be so served, took thereby such fear, that it brought the beginning of her sickness, of the which at length she died.

    Then at the last she was called before the margrave, and charged with Anabaptistry; which she there utterly denied, and detested the error, declaring before him in Dutch her faith boldly, without any fear. So the margrave, hearing the same, in the end being well pleased with her profession, at the suit of some of her friends delivered her out of prison, but took away her book; and so she came over into England again.

    A STORY OF WILLIAM MAULDON.

    I lightly pass over here the tedious afflictions of William Mauldon, how in the dangerous time of the Six Articles, before the burning of Anne Askew, he was scourged, being young, of his father, for professing and confessing of true religion; and afterward, being examined in auricular confession by the priest, his books were searched for; and so at length he was presented up by the same priest, in a letter written to the bishop, which letter, had it not been burnt by another priest, to whose hands it came (as the Lord would have it), it had undoubtedly cost him his life.

    This one thing in the same William Mauldon is to be noted, that being young in those days of king Henry when the mass most flourished, the altars with the sacrament thereof being in their most high veneration, that to man’s reason it might seem impossible that the glory and opinion of that sacrament and sacramentals, so highly worshipped, and so deeply rooted in the hearts of so many, could by any means possible so soon decay and vanish to nought: yet notwithstanding, he being then so young, under the age of seventeen years, by the spirit (no doubt) of prophecy, declared then unto his parents, that they should see it shortly even come to pass, that both the sacrament of the altar, and the altars themselves, with all such plantations which the heavenly Father did not plant, should be plucked up by the roots. And even so, within the space of very few years, the event thereof followed accordingly: the Lord therefore be praised for his most gracious reformation!

    ROBERT HORNEBY.

    I let pass, likewise, the dangerous escape of Robert Horneby, servant sometime, and groom of the chamber to lady Elizabeth, she being then in trouble in queen Mary’s days; who, being willed to come to mass, refused so to do, and therefore coming afterward from Woodstock to Hampton Court, was called before the council, and by them committed to the Marshalsea, and not unlike to have sustained further danger, had not the Lord’s goodness better provided for him, who at length by Dr. Martin was delivered.

    MISTRESS SANDS.

    The like, also, may be testified and recorded of mistress Sands, now wife to sir Morrice Bartlet, then gentlewoman-waiter to the said lady Elizabeth, being in the Tower; which mistress Sands denied in like manner to come to mass, and therefore, beside the heavy displeasure of her father, was not only displaced from her room, and put out of the house, but also was in great jeopardy of further trial. But the Lord, who disposeth for every one as he seeth best, wrought her a way out of her enemies’ hands by flying over the seas, where she continued amongst other banished exiles in the city of Geneva and of Basle, till the death of queen Mary.

    THE STORY OF THOMAS ROSE YET LIVING, A PREACHER OF THE AGE OF SEVENTY-SIX YEARS, OF THE TOWN OF LUTON, AND IN THE COUNTY OF BEDFORD.

    This Thomas Rose a Devonshire man, was born in Exmouth, and being made priest in that country, was brought out of it by one master Fabian, to Polstead, in Suffolk, where the said master Fabian was parson; and in short time after, by his means, was placed in the town of Hadley, where he, first coming to some knowledge of the gospel, began first there to treat upon the creed; and thereupon to take occasion to inveigh against purgatory, praying to saints, and images, about the time that master Latimer began first to preach at Cambridge, in the time of Bilney and Arthur, forty-seven years ago, or thereabout ; a321 insomuch that many embracing the truth of Christ’s gospel, against the said purgatory and other points, and the number of them daily increasing, the adversaries began to stir against him, insomuch that master Bale (who afterward became a godly zealous man) was then brought to preach against the said Thomas Rose, and so did. This notwithstanding, he continued still very vehemently against images; and the Lord so blessed his labors, that many began to devise how to deface and destroy them, and especially four men, whose names were Robert King, Robert Debnam, Nicholas Marsh, and Robert Gardner, which usually resorted to his sermons, and upon his preaching were so inflamed with zeal, that shortly after they adventured to destroy the rood of Dovercourt, which cost three of them their lives, as appeareth before. The three persons which suffered, and were hanged in chains, were offered their lives,, to have accused the said Thomas Rose, as of counsel with them, which refused so to do, and therefore suffered. The said Thomas Rose had the coat of the said rood brought unto him afterward, who burnt it. The rood was said to have done many great miracles, and great wonders wrought by him, and yet, being in the fire, could not help himself, but burned like a block, as in very deed he was.

    At this time there were two sore enemies in Hadley, Walter Clerk, and John Clerk, two brethren: these complained to the council, that a hundred men were not able to fetch the said Thomas Rose out of Hadley, who then was, upon examination of his doctrine, committed to the commissary’s keeping. And indeed such was the zeal of a number then in that town towards the truth, that they were much offended that their minister was so taken from them, and had therefore by force fetched him from the commissary, if certain wise men had not otherwise persuaded, which at length also, with more quiet, did set him in his office again; which thing so angered the two brethren, Walter Cleric and John Clerk, that they complained to the council, as is aforesaid; whereupon a sergeant-at-arms, named Cartwright, was sent from the council, who arrested the said Thomas Rose, and brought him before the council. Then his adversaries being called, they laid to his charge, that he was privy of the burning of the rood of Dover-court; and upon this he was committed to prison in the bishop of Lincoln’s house in Holborn — bishop Longland, a322 the king’s confessor; and there remained he in prison, from Shrovetide to Midsummer, very sore stocked till after Easter.

    The stocks were very high and great, so that day and night he did lie with his back on the ground, upon a little straw, with his heels so high, that by means the blood was fallen from his feet his feet were almost without sense for a long time; and he herewith waxed very sick, insomuch that his keeper, pitying his estate, and hearing him cry sometimes, through the extremity of pain, went to the bishop, and told. him that he would not keep him to die under his hand; and upon this he had some more ease and liberty. Now at this time his mother was come from Hadley to see him, but she might not be suffered to speak with the said Thomas Rose her son (such was their cruelty); but the bishop flattered her, and gave her a pair of pardon-beads, and bade her go home and pray, for she might not see him; which thing pierced the heart both of the mother and son, not a little. At this time also certain men of Hadley, very desirous to see him, travailed to speak with him, but might not be suffered, till at length they gave the keeper four shillings; and yet then might not speak to him, or see him otherwise than through a grate. And thus continued he till Midsummer, in prison there.

    Then was be removed to Lambeth, in the first year of Dr. Cranmer’s consecration, who used him much more courteously than ever the bishop of Lincoln did, and at length wrought his deliverance, and set him at liberty; but yet so, that he was bound not to come within twenty miles of Hadley. After this he came to London, and there preached the gospel half a year, till Hadley men, hearing thereof, labored to have him to Hadley again, and indeed by means of sir John Rainsford, knight, obtained at the archbishop’s hand, to have him thither. Howbeit, by means one was placed in the cure at Hadley, he could not enjoy his office again there, but went to Stratford, three miles off and there continued in preaching the word three years, till at length the adversaries procured an inhibition from the bishop of Norwich, to put him to silence. But a great number travailed to have him continue in preaching, and subscribed a supplication to the archbishop, with seven-score hands, who, under their seals, also testified of his honest demeanour; so that the adversaries this way not prevailing, they indicted him at Bury in Suffolk, so that he was constrained to flee to London, and to use the aid of the lord Audley, then lord chancellor, who removed the matter from them, and called it before him, and after certain examination of the matter, did set him free, and did send him by a token to the lord Cromwell, then lord privy seal, for a license from the king to preach: which thing obtained by the lord Cromwell’s means (who hereupon also had admitted the said Thomas Rose his chaplain), forthwith he was sent into Lincolnshire and to York.

    In the mean time such complaint was made to the duke of Norfolk, for that he preached against auricular confession, transubstantiation, and such other points contained in the Six Articles (which then to have done, by law was death), that the duke, in his own person, not only sought him at Norwich, but also beset all the havens for him, from Yarmouth to London; and, being lieutenant, commanded that whosoever could take the said Thomas Rose, should hang him on the next tree. Howbeit, the said Thomas Rose, at his coming home, having warning hereof by certain godly persons, was conveyed away, and passed over into Flanders, and so to Germany unto Zurich, where a time he remained with master Bullinger; and afterward went to Basle, and there hosted with master Grinaeus, till letters came that master Dr. Barnes should be bishop of Norwich, a323 and things should be reformed and he restored. But when he came into England again, it was nothing so, and therefore forthwith fled again beyond the seas, being so beset, as, if the mighty providence of God had not sent’ him in a readiness to receive him, the selfsame man, boat, and boy, that before carried him over, it had not been possible for him to have escaped. But such was the goodness of God towards him, that he safely was conveyed, and lived at Arrow the space of three years, till at length, purposing to come over into England,. about business that he had, he, his wife, and their child (being but a year and three quarters old), upon the sea, the ship being in great danger, wherein they sailed (for the mast being hewn down in that peril, they were carried whithersoever the waves tossed them), they with divers others made a full account of death. Howbeit, at length they were taken prisoners, ..and carried into Dieppe in France, having all their stuff taken from them, and forty pounds in money. There they remained prisoners from Michaelmas till Hallowtide, in great heaviness, not knowing what would become of them, but depending only up on God’s providence.

    It pleased God at the same time, that one master Young, of the town of Rye (who had heard him preach before), came thither for the redeeming of certain Englishmen there taken prisoners. This master Young, moved to see them in this case, much pitied them, and comforted them, and told them he would pay their ransom; and so he did, had them away, and brought them to Rye; and from thence by stealth came they to London. At length the honorable earl of Sussex, hearing of the said Thomas Rose, sent for him, his wife, and his child, and had them to his house at Attleborough, where they continued till at length it was blazed abroad, that the earl was a maintainer of such a man to read in his house, as had preached against the catholic faith (as they term it). The earl, being at the parliament, and hearing thereof, wrote a letter to warn him to make shift; for himself, and to avoid: so that from thence he passed to London, making strait shift for a year there, and somewhat more, till the death of king Henry.

    After the king’s death, he and others who, in the king’s general pardon, were excepted (and therefore dead men, if they had been taken whilst king Henry lived), by certain of the council were set at liberty; and at length, after king Edward was crowned, were licensed to preach again by the king; who gave unto the said Thomas Rose the benefice of West Ham, by London. But at the death of that virtuous and noble prince, he was deprived of all, and so should also have been of his life, had not God appointed him friends, who received him in London secretly, as their teacher in the congregation: among whom, for the poor prisoners, at their assemblies ten pound a night oftentimes was gathered. And thus he continued amongst them, and with the lady Vane, almost a year in the reign of queen Mary . But although he oftentimes escaped secretly, whilst he read to the godly in sundry places of London, yet at length, through a Judas that betrayed them, he, with thirty-five that were with him, were taken in Bow-church-yard, at a shearman’s house, on Newyear’s- day at night, being Tuesday. The residue being committed to prisons, the said Thomas Rose was had to the bishop of Win- chester, Stephen Gardiner; but the bishop would not speak with him that night, but committed him to the Clink till Tuesday after. f474 THE FIRST EXAMINATION OF THOMAS ROSE, BEFORE GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, AT ST. MARY OVERY’S.

    On Thursday, being brought before the bishop of Winchester, at St.

    Mary Overy’s, the said Thomas Rose spake as followeth. “It maketh me to marvel, my lord,” quoth he, “that I should be thus troubled for that which by the word of God hath been established, and by the laws of this realm allowed, and by your own writing so notably, in your book ‘De vera Obedientia,’ confirmed.” Winchester: — “ Ah, sirrah! hast thou gotten that?” Rose: — “Yea, my lord, I thank God, and do confess myself much thereby confirmed: for as touching the doctrine of the supremacy, against the bishop of Rome’s usurped authority, no man hath said further. And, as I remember, you confess in it, that when this truth was revealed unto you, you thought the scales to fall from your eyes.” Winchester: — “ Thou liest like a varlet; there is no such thing in my book, but I shall handle thee, and such as thou art, well enough. I have long looked for thee, and at length have caught thee. I will know who be thy maintainers, or else I will make thee a foot longer.” Rose: — “My lord, you shall do as much as pleaseth God, and no more; yet the law is in your hand: but I have God for my maintainer, and none other.” At these words, one of his servants stepped forth, and said, “My lord, I heard this man preach by Norwich, in sir John Robster’s house; and in his prayer he desired God to turn queen Mary’s heart, or else to take her out of the world; and this was in king Edward’s time.” Rose: — “My lord, I made no such prayer, but next after the king I prayed for her after this sort, saying, ‘Ye shall pray for my lady Mary’s grace, that God will vouchsafe to endue her with his Spirit, that she graciously may perceive the mysteries contained within his holy laws; and so render unto him her heart purified with true faith, and true and loyal obedience to her sovereign lord and king, to the good ensample of the inferior subjects.’ And this, my lord, is already answered in mine own hand-writing to the council.” Unto this he said little, but turning his face to certain that were by him, “This is he,” quoth the bishop, “that my lord of Norwich told me, had begotten his maid with child.” Rose: — “This is no heresy, my lord, although it be a lie. Indeed certain wicked persons raised this report of me, for the hatred they bare to the doctrine which I preached: but for purgation of myself herein, f had no less than six of the council’s hands, that there might be due and diligent examination for this matter in the country by men of worship appointed for that purpose, who can all testify (I thank God), that I am most clear from such wickedness; and indeed they have cleared me from it. And therefore I doubt not, but all good men will espy the mischievous device of mine adversaries, which (when other ways failed) by such sinister means went about to draw me into discredit and hatred. But God, which is the helper of the innocent, and searcher of men’s hearts, hath and doth defend me, and hath laid open things that were hid, to their shame. One of the chief reporters of this, that I should so abuse myself, was one master Clark, servant, and in some estimation, with the old lord treasurer of England, reputed and taken for a conjuror, who afterward, for his good demerits hanged himself in the Tower.” — Then the bishop commanded that I should be carried to the Tower, and kept safely, where I did lie till it was the week before Whitsuntide; after which time I was twice called, when the bishop came to the Tower about other prisoners. Notwithstanding, the bishop had no great talk with me, but spake friendly. Howbeit, one sir Richard Southwell, knight, still accused me for my prayer, and said I did put a difference betwixt lady Mary and lady Elizabeth, for that I prayed in king Edward’s faith, and prayed that he would confirm lady Elizabeth in that which was well begun in her. Unto this the bishop said little. But in the week before Pentecost, I was conveyed from the Tower to Norwich, there to be examined by the bishop and his clergy, as concerning my faith, the manner whereof here followeth.

    THE SECOND EXAMINATION OF THOMAS ROSE BEFORE THE BISHOP OF NORWICH, Hopton a325 by name, in his own Palace, in the presence of Sir W.

    Woodhouse, Knight, Master Steward the Chancellor, Dr. Barret, with divers others, the Wednesday in Whitsun-week, A.D. 1558.

    After I was presented by my keeper, the bishop immediately asked me what I was. I told him I had been a minister. Bishop: — “What is this to the purpose: were ye a friar or a priest?” Rose: — “Friar was I never; but a priest have I been, and beneficed by the king’s majesty.” Bishop: — “Where were ye made priest?” Rose: — “In Exeter, in the county where I was born.” Then the bishop required of me my letters of orders. I told him I knew not where they were become, for they were things of me not greatly regarded. Bishop: — “Well, you are sent to me to be examined; what say you, will you submit yourself to the order of the church of England?” Rose: - “My lord, I trust I am not out of the order of Christ’s church in England, neither do I know myself an offender there-against.” Bishop: — “What! yes, ye have here preached most damnable and devilish doctrine.” Rose: — “Not .so, my lord. The doctrine by me here preached, was both true, sincere, and holy. But indeed the doctrine that is now set forth, is most wicked and damnable, yea, and that both against God’s laws and man’s. But as for the doctrine by me preached, it is grounded upon the word of God, set out also by the authority of two most mighty kings, with the consent of all the nobility and clergy of the same; so that I preached nothing but their lawful proceedings, having their lawful authority under their broad seals, for confirmation of the same, for which my doing ye cannot justly charge me. For why, since the law ceased, I have kept silence, so that the council which sent me unto you, have not charged me therewith. Wherefore ye do me open wrong, to burden me with that wherein I am free.” Chancellor: — “What sir? ye are very captious; answerest thou my lord after such a sort?” “Sir,” said I, “I answer for myself, and according to the truth: wherewith ye ought not to be offended, if ye be of God.” Chancellor: — “Thou art an evil man. Wast thou not abjured before now?” Rose: — “No, ye untruly report me, and are in no wise able to prove that which ye have spoken: so that your words appear to proceed altogether of malice, which I have not deserved at your hands. But in this I well perceive ye are made an instrument to utter other men’s malice, conceived of old.” Chancellor: — “What say you to the real presence in the sacrament?” Rose: — “I wist right well ye were made an instrument to seek innocent blood: well, ye may have it, if God permit; it is present at hand, for I have not come hither to lie, but to die (if God see it good), in defense of that which I have said. Wherefore ye may begin when ye shall think good, for I have said nothing but the truth, and that which in those days was of all men allowed for truth, and against the which ye at that time durst not once whisper, although ye now brag never so much.” “Well, father Rose,” said the bishop, “whatsoever hath been done in times past, shall not now be called in question, so that ye now submit yourself. For not only you, but all the whole realm hath been out of the right way, both high and low, spiritual and temporal: but all, notwithstanding, have submitted themselves, and acknowledged their faith. Wherefore, if ye will be accounted for an Englishman, ye must likewise submit yourself.” Rose: — “My lord, I am an Englishman born, and do most humbly require of the christian congregation of England, to be counted as a particular member of the same, and with all due reverence submit myself as in the form and manner following: That whatsoever law or laws shall be set forth in the same, for the establishment of Christ’s true religion, and that according to the faith and doctrine of the holy patriarchs and prophets, Jesus Christ, and his holy apostles, with the faithful fathers of Christ’s primitive church, I do not only hold it and believe it, but also most reverently obey it.” At which my assertion, the bishop seemed to be greatly rejoiced, and said, “Well, then we shall soon be at a point. But,” said he, “you shall take this for no day of examination, but rather of communication, so that ye shall now depart and pause yourself, until we call for you again.” And so ended our first meeting.

    THE THIRD EXAMINATION OF THOMAS ROSE.

    On the Friday following, I was called again into Christ’s-church within their Lady’s chapel (as they termed it), where was gathered a great part of the whole city of Norwich. And after I was by my keeper presented, the bishop began with a great protestation; and after many words, demanded of me, whether according to my former promise, I would submit myself or no. I answered as before I had done, that according to my former protestation, I would most gladly obey. Then said the chancellor (to utter his gentleness), “I think you do but feign.” “The fault then,” said I, “shall be in yourself, and not in me. For if ye burden me with nothing but Scriptures, and the fathers of Christ’s primitive church, then, as I said before, so I say again, I shall most gladly obey.” Chancellor: — “Well then, seeing you challenge to be a member of the church of England, your mother here, for a trial of obedience, provoketh you, as mothers are wont to allure you to receive this little gift at her hand.”

    Forsooth, said I, if she offer it me as received of God my Father, I shall gladly receive it, as from the hand of my very true and ghostly mother.” Chancellor: — “ What say you to ear-confession? Is it not a law ecclesiastical, and necessary for the church of England?” Rose: — “ Some ways it might be permitted, and some ways not; and that because it had not its original of God and his blessed word. And yet I deny not, but that a man being troubled in his conscience, and resorting to a discreet, sober, and christian learned man, for the quieting of his mind, might well be permitted. But to bind a man under pain of damnation, once every year, to number his sins into the ears of a filthy lecherous priest, is not of God, neither can be approved by his word.” Bishop: — “Ah, sirrah! ye will admit nothing but Scripture, I see well.” Rose: — “No truly, my lord, I admit nothing but Scripture for the regiment of the soul: for why, faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God; and where the word of God is not, there ought no belief to be given. For whatsoever is not of faith is sin.” And here they left off speaking any more of that matter.

    But then master chancellor began to whet his teeth at me, saying, “Yea, but you have preached, that the real, natural, and substantial presence of Christ is not in the sacrament of the altar: what say ye to that?” Rose: — “ Verily, I say, that you are a bloody man, and seek to quench your thirst with the blood of an innocent; and therefore, to satisfy you in that behalf, I say verily unto you, that even so I have here preached. And although, contrary to law, you charge me with the same, yet will I in no wise deny it, though justly I might do it, but stand thereunto, even to seal it with my blood, desiring all that be here present, to testify the same, and believe it as the only truth.” Bishop: — “I charge you all to believe it not.” “Yea, but my lord,” said I, “if ye will needs have credence given you, you must bring God’s word to maintain your sayings.” Bishop: — “Why, doth not Christ say, ‘This is my body?’ and can there be any plainer words spoken?” Rose: — “ It is true, my lord, the words be as plain as can be, and even so be these, where it is said, I am a door, a vine. And Christ is called a stone, a lion, and yet is he naturally none of these: for they be all figurative speeches, as both the Scriptures and fathers do sufficiently prove.”

    At which my saying, the bishop would have had me stay, saying, I should have another day, wherein I might take better advisement. “Not so, my lord,” said I, “for I am at a full point with myself in that matter, and am right well able to prove both your transubstantiation, with the real presence, to be against the Scriptures and the ancient fathers of the primitive church. For Justin, which is one of the ancientest writers that ever wrote, upon the sacraments, writeth in his second Apology, that the bread, water, and wine in the sacrament, are not to be taken as other meats and drinks, but be meats purposely ordained to give thanks unto God, and therefore be called eucharistia, and also have the names of the body and blood of Christ; and that it is not lawful for any man to eat and drink of them, but such as profess the religion of Christ, and live also according to their profession. And yet (saith he) the same bread and drink is changed into our flesh and blood, and nourisheth our bodies. By which saying it is evident that Justin meant, that the bread and wine remain still, or else they could not have been turned into our flesh and blood, and nourish our bodies.”

    At which my saying they were not a little troubled, but enforced themselves to have denied the doctor, and. would suffer me to speak no more, but straightway was I carried away unto my lodging. And so ended the second day of mine appearance, which was the Friday in Whitsun-week; and then was I appointed to appear again on the Monday following. Howbeit, upon what occasion I know not, it was deferred unto the Wednesday, which was Corpus-Christi-even.

    HIS TALK WITH THE EARL OF SUSSEX, SIR WILLIAM WOODHOUSE, AND THE BISHOP’S CHAPLAINS.

    In the mean time the bishop sent two of his chaplains to me, with whom I had communication about the real presence: and after long reasoning to and fro, concerning this point, at length I drave them to this issue: whether they did confess that Christ, in the selfsame body which was conceived of the Virgin Mary, and wherein he suffered and. rose again, doth, in the selfsame body, naturally, substantially, and really, sit at the right hand of God the Father, without return from thence, until the day of the general judgment, or not? Whereunto they answered, “Yes, truly,” said they, “we confess it:, hold it, and believe it.” Then I again demanded of them, whether they did affirm, after the words pronounced by the minister, there to remain flesh, blood, bones, hair, nails, as is wont most grossly to be preached, or not? And they’ with great deliberation answered, that they did not only abhor the teaching of such gross doctrine, but also would detest themselves, if they should so think.

    At which two .principal points, wherein they fully confirmed my doctrine which I ever taught, I was not a little comforted and rejoiced, but marvelously encouraged. Whereupon I demanded again of them, what manner of body they then affirmed to be in the sacrament? “Forsooth,” said they, “not a visible, palpable, or circumscriptable body, for that is always at the Father’s right hand: but in the sacrament it is invisible, and can neither be felt, seen, nor occupy any place, ‘but is there by the omnipotency of God’s word they know not how. And for this they brought in St. Augustine, although of them not truly understood, yet would they admit none other sense than their own, but would take upon them to confirm it with Martin Luther, Melancthon, Bucer, and Calvin: so that I, perceiving their obstinacy in that behalf, gave them over for that time, and afterward talked with Dr. Barret, whom I also found of the same judgment in that behalf; “for,” said he, “if ye should dissent from the fathers of the primitive church in this behalf, of which St. Augustine is one, ye shall be counted to die out of the favor of God.” Well, all this their obstinacy and blasphemous errors imprinted and deeply weighed in my mind, I gave them all over. And the more quietly to bring them to confess that openly, which they unto me had granted privately, I granted them according to the Scriptures, and my former protestation, a presence, although not as they supposed.

    After all this, came there unto me the honorable earl of Sussex, and that gentle knight, sir William Woodhouse, with great persuasions: unto whom I said, after long talk, that I would do all that I might, saving my conscience, which I would in no wise pollute; and no more I have, as knoweth God by whom all men must be judged.

    HIS LAST APPEARANCE BEFORE THE BISHOP.

    Now, to come to my last appearance, after I was before the bishop presented, he forthwith demanded of me, whether I were resolved, as he had heard say. To whom I answered, that even as always I had said before, even so I was now. Unto whom, by low bowing my knee, I gave my due reverence, and the rather for that the honorable earl of Sussex was there; wherewith some which would be counted great gospellers, were (contrary to all Christianity) sore offended. Then I said, that whatsoever laws were set forth for the establishment of Christ’s true religion, and that according to the doctrine of Christ’s holy apostles, and the faithful fathers of the primitive church, I did not only obey them, but must earnestly embrace and believe them. Yea, and yet to the further blinding of their eyes, I said, that if any thing could justly be proved by God’s holy word, by me heretofore preached, or taught untruly, either for lack of learning, slide of tongue, or of ignorance; yet by better knowledge when it shall justly be tried and examined by the same, I shall not refuse (the thing perfectly approved) to revoke the same: provided always, the word of God herein to be judge. All this spoke I (as God knoweth) to keep them from suspecting that which I went about, and that they should have none occasion to judge me of obstinacy. Then said I moreover, “All you must of force confess, that the doctrine by me heretofore preached, had, besides the authority of God’s eternal verity, the authority of two most noble and mighty princes, with the advice and counsel of all the nobility and clergy of the same, and that with great deliberation from time to time, with open disputations in both the universities, enacted also by parliament with the consent of the whole body and commons of the same, and that without any resistance or gainsaying established, as a religion most pure and perfect, most earnestly and sincerely preached by the principal bishops and doctors, and that before the king’s majesty’s person. And 1, as one being called to that office, did the like with all the rest, and, in the zeal of God and with a pure conscience, did set forth the same, as the only and absolute truth of God, and the just and most true proceedings of my sovereign lord and king. And I had then my head, at that present, even where it now standeth, betwixt mine ears, altogether applying the same, to apprehend with all diligence that which then was established and taught, as the only and absolute truth, and a thing unto me most desirable, and well liking, without any desire to hear the contrary, till now, through this my captivity, I am compelled to hear the contrary part speak, who are even here present, and which my lord sent unto me. “Of whom, after long disputations privately to and fro before this time had betwixt us, at length I have heard of them a contrary doctrine, which I never before had heard; and therefore must confess mine own ignorance in the same. For,” quoth I, “after I had enforced these men here present” (meaning the bishop’s two chaplains) “to confess Jesus Christ’s natural body with his full complete members in due order and proportion of a perfect man’s body to be present at the right hand of God the Father, and that without return from thence, until the last judgment, and also that after the words pronounced by the priest, there remaineth no such gross presence of flesh, blood, bones, hair, and nails, as was wont to be preached; but that after I had demanded of them what manner of body they affirmed to be present, they said, ‘A body invisible by the omnipotency of God’s word, which neither can be felt nor seen, nor that hath any distinction of members, but such a body as occupieth no place, but is there they know not how.’ Necessity compelled me to confess mine ignorance in that behalf, although in very deed they perceived not my meaning therein, neither was it in my thought they should so do. For by this their confession, and my silence, afterward I perceived their horrible blasphemies. “And methought in this I had well discharged at that time my conscience, in causing them in open audience to confess the same; and so I granted a presence, but not as they supposed. For only I said, that Christ, after the words pronounced, is present in the lawful use and right distribution of his holy supper; which thing I never denied, or any godly man that ever I heard of. For, said I, Eusebius Emissenus, a man of singular fame and learning, about three hundred years after Christ’s ascension, saith, a326 that the conversion of the visible creatures of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, is like unto our conversion in baptism, where nothing is outwardly changed, but all the change is inwardly, by the mighty working of the Holy Ghost, which fashioneth and frameth Christ in the heart and mind of man, as by the example of Peter preaching to the people, (Acts 2.) by which he so pierced their consciences, that they openly, with most earnest repentance, confessed their sins, saying, ‘Men and brethren, what shall we do? Repent, and be baptized every one of you,’ said Peter, ‘in the name of Jesus Christ.’ So that at this sermon there were turned unto Christ three thousand persons; in whom Christ was so fashioned and framed, as that he did dwell in every one of them, and they in him. And after the like manner (said I) is Christ present in the lawful use and right distribution of his holy supper, and not otherwise. For although I said, according to the truth, that Christ dwelt in every one of these persons rehearsed, yet meant I nothing less, than that he in them should have a gross, carnal, or fleshly dwelling. And no more meant I (as God knoweth) him carnally or naturally to be in the sacrament, but according to the Scriptures, and my former protestation, that is, to the spiritual nourishment of all such as worthily come unto that holy supper, receiving it according to his holy institution.” And thus I ended; which the papists most maliciously and slanderously named a recantation; which I never meant, nor thought (as God knoweth).

    Now, after I had thus concluded my speech, the bishop taking me by the hand, said, “Father Rose, you may be a worthy instrument in God’s church, and we will see to you at our coming home:” for he was about to take his journey in visitation of his diocese; and they feared much at this very time, lest queen Mary should have miscarried in child-travail, which was looked for, being then accounted very great with child, so that they were not so fierce as they had been, and doubted very much of some stir, if I should have suffered; and therefore were glad to be rid of me, so that by any colorable means for their own discharge it might be: so, the night following, was I only committed to mine own lodging.

    On the morrow, when the bishop was ready to ride forth in visitation, he called me before him, and perceiving that sir William Woodhouse did bear me great favor, said, he was sorry for me and my expenses; and therefore wished that I were somewhere, where I might spend no more money, till his return. “Why, my lord,” quoth sir William Woodhouse, “he shall have meat, and drink, and lodging, with me, till you return again, seeing you now break up house.” And hereupon I went home with sir William, that good knight, who most gently entertained me, and I had great liberty.

    Upon this, the papistical priests of i:he college of Christ’s-church in Norwich, for that they saw me at liberty in sir William’s absence (who also was then from home a fortnight), blazed it abroad that sir William was bounden for me in body and lands. At his coming home, therefore, I asked sir William if he were so bounden for me; and he denied it. Then said I, “Sir, but for the reverence I bear to you, I might have been a hundred miles from you ere this. But I trust now, sir, seeing you be not bound for me, I may go visit my friends.” “Go where you will,” said sir William; “for,” quoth he, “I told the bishop I would not be his jailer, but promised only meat, drink, and lodging for you.” Shortly after, upon the device of some friends, I was closely conveyed to a friend’s house, where almost a month I was secretly kept, till rumors were over: for at the bishop’s return, searching was for me; insomuch as all houses, where it was known I had been acquainted, were searched, and the ships at Yarmouth.

    At length the bishop sent to a conjuror, to know of him which way I was gone, and he answered, that I was gone over a water, and in the keeping of a woman. And in very deed I was passed over a small water, and was hid by a blessed woman and godly woman, which lived in a poor cottage, the space of three weeks, till all the great heat was over.

    Then was I conveyed to London, and from thence passed over the seas, where I lived till the death of queen Mary, and till that it pleased God, for the comfort of his church, and restoring of all poor exiles and prisoners for his name’s sake, to bless this realm with the government of our noble queen, whom God, to the glory of his own name, and the defense of his church, according to his good will and pleasure, long preserve and continue over us.

    A BRIEF DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE TROUBLES AND HAPPY DELIVERANCE OF THE REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, DR. SANDS, FIRST, BISHOP OF WORCESTER, NEXT OF LONDON, AND NOW ARCHBISHOP OF YORK.

    King Edward dead, the world being unworthy of him, the duke of Northumberland came down to Cambridge with an army of men, having commission to proclaim lady Jane queen, and by power to suppress lady Mary, who took upon her that dignity, and was proclaimed queen in Norfolk. The duke sent for Dr. Sands, being vice-chancellor, for Dr. Parker, for Dr. Bill, and master Leaver, to sup with him. Amongst other speeches, he said, “Masters, pray for us, that we speed well: if not, you shall be made bishops, and we deacons.” And even so it came to pass, Dr. Parker and Dr. Sands were made bishops, and he and sir John Gates, who was then at the table, were made deacons, ere it was long after, on the Towerhill.

    Dr. Sands, being vice-chancellor, was required to preach on the morrow. The warning was short for such an auditory, and to speak of such a matter; yet he refused not the thing, but went into his chamber, and so to bed. He rose at three of the clock in the morning, took his Bible in his hand, and, after that he had prayed a good space, he shut his eyes, and holding his Bible before him, earnestly prayed to God, that it might fall open where a most fit text should be, for him to entreat of. The Bible, as God would have it, fell open upon the first chapter of Joshua, where he found so convenient a piece of Scripture for that time, that the like he could not have chosen in all the Bible. His text was this: “Responderuntque Josuae atque dixerunt, Omnia quae praecepisti nobis faciemus, et quocunque miseris ibimus: sieur obedivimus in cunctis Mosi, ita obediemus et tibi, tan turn sit Dominus Deus tuus tecum sicut fuit cure Mose: qui contradixerit ori tuo, et non obedierit cunctis ser-monibus quos praeceperis ei, moriatur; tu tanturn confortare et viri-liter age.” Who shall consider what was concluded by such as named themselves the state, and withal, the auditory, the time, and other circumstances, he shall easily see that this text most fitly served for the purpose. And as God gave the text, so gave he him such order and utterance, as pulled many tears out of the eye of the biggest of them.

    With them the queen’s litter for her. After much talk, the messengers declaring how there was no prolonging of times and days, so departed to their chamber, being entertained and cheered, as appertained to their worships.

    On the next morrow at the time prescribed, they had her forth as she was, very faint and feeble, and in such case, that she was ready to swounde three or four times between them. What should I speak here, that cannot well be expressed, what an heavy house there was to behold the unreverent and doleful dealing of *the lords,* but especially the careful fear a332 and captivity of their innocent lady and mistress.

    Now to proceed in her journey: from Ashridge, all sick in the litter, she came to Redbourn, where she was guarded all night: from thence to St.

    Alban’s, to sir Rafe Rowlet’s house, where she tarried that night *al heavy*, both feeble in body, and comfortless in mind. From that place they passed to master Dodde’s house at Mimms, where also they remained that night: and so from thence she came to Highgate, where she, being very sick, tarried that night and the next day; during which time of her abode, there came many pursuivants and messangers from the court; but for what purpose I cannot tell. From that place she was conveyed to the court, where by the way came to meet her many gentlemen, to accompany her highness, which were very sorry to see her in that case.

    But especially a great multiude of people there were standing by the way, who then flocking about her litter lamented and bewailed greatly her estate.

    Now when she came to the court, her grace was there straightways shut up, and kept as close prisoner a fortnight , a333 seeing neither king nor queen, nor lord nor friend, all that time, but only then the lord chamberlain, sir John Gage, and the vice-chamberlain, which were attendant unto the doors. About which time sir William Sentlowe of Wyat’s rebellion, which he stoutly denied, protesting that he was a true man both to God and his prince, defying all traitors and rebels. But, being straitly examined, [he] was in conclusion committed to the Tower.

    The Friday before Palm-Sunday, the bishop of Winchester with nineteen other of the council (who shall be here nameless), came unto her grace from the queen’s majesty, and burdened her with Wyat’s conspiracy, which she utterly denied, affirming that she was altogether guiltless therein. They, being not contented with this, charged her grace with business made by sir Peter Carew, and the rest of the gentlemen of the west country: which also she, utterly denying, cleared her innocency therein.

    In conclusion, after long debating of matters, they declared unto her, that it was the queen’s will and pleasure that she should go unto her, that it was the queen’s will and pleasure that she should go unto the Tower, while the matter were further tried and examined. Whereat she, being aghast, said, that she trusted the queen’s majesty would be more gracious lady unto her, and that her highness would not otherwise conceive of her but that she was a true woman; declaring furthermore to the lords that she was innocent in all those matters wherein they had burdened her, and desired them therefore to be a further mean to the queen her sister, that she, being a true woman in thought, word, and deed, towards her majesty, might not be committed to so notorious and doleful a place; protesting that she would request no favor at her hand, if she should be proved to have consented unto any such kind of matter as they laid unto her charge; and therefore, in fine, desired their lordships to think of her what she was, and that she might not so extremely be dealt withal for her truth. Whereunto the lords answered again, that there was no remedy, for that the queen’s majesty was fully determined that she should go unto the Tower: wherewith the lords departed, with their caps hanging over their eyes.

    But not long after, within the space of an hour or little more, came four of the foresaid lords of the council, which were the lord treasurer, the bishop of Winchester, the lord steward, the earl of Sussex, with the guard; who, warding the next chamber to her, secluded all her gentlemen and yeomen, ladies and gentlewomen; saving that for one gentleman-usher, three gentlewomen, and two grooms of her chamber, were appointed, in their rooms, three other men of the queen’s, and three waiting women to give attendance upon her, that none should have access to her grace. At which time there were a hundred of northern soldiers in white coats, watching and warding about the gardens all that night; a great fire being made in the midst of the hall, and two certain lords watching there also, with their band and company.

    Upon Saturday a335 , following, two lords of the council (the one was the cad of Sussex, the other shall be nameless) came and certified her grace, that forthwith she must go unto the Tower, the barge being prepared for her, and the tide now ready, which tarrieth for nobody. In heavy mood. her grace requested the lords that she might tarry another tide, trusting that the next would be better and more comfortable. But one of the lords replied, that neither time nor tide was to be delayed. And when her grace requested him that she might be suffered to write to the queen’s majesty, he answered, that he durst not permit that; adding, that in his judgment it would rather hurt, than profit her grace, in so doing. But the other lord, more courteous and favorable (who was the earl of Sussex), kneeling down, told her grace that she should have liberty to write, and, as he was a true man, he would deliver it to the queen’s highness, and bring an answer of the same, whatsoever came thereof. Whereupon she wrote, albeit she could in no case be suffered to speak with the queen, to her great discomfort, being no offender against the queen’s majesty.

    And thus the time and tide passed away for that season, they privily appointing all things ready that she should go the next tide, which fell about midnight; but for fear she should be taken by the way, they durst not. So they staid till the next day, being Palm-Sunday, when, about nine of the clock, these two returned again, declaring that it was time for her grace to depart. She answered, “If there be no remedy, I must be contented;” willing the lords to go on before. Being come forth into the garden, she did cast her eyes towards the window, thinking to have seen the queen, which she could not: whereat she said, she marveled much what the nobility of the realm meant, which in that sort would suffer her to be led into captivity, the Lord knew whither, for she did not. In the mean time, page 609- will bear us out in, whatsoever shall happen hereafter. And further, let us consider that she was the king our master’s daughter: and therefore let us use such dealing, that we may answer it hereafter, if it shall so happen: for just dealing quoth he, “is always answerable.” Whereunto the other lords agreed that it was well said. of him, and thereupon departed. Being in the Tower, within two days commandment was, that she should have mass within her house. One master Young was then her chaplain, and because there were none of her men so well learned to help the priest to say mass, the mass staid for that day.

    The next day two of her yeomen, who had gone long to school before, and were learned, had two abecies provided , a336 and delivered them; so that upon the abecies, they should help the priest. One of the said yeomen, holding the abecie in his hand, pretending ignorance at Kyrie Eleison, set the priest, making as though he could answer no further.

    It would make a pitiful and a strange story, here by the way to touch and recite what examination and rackings of poor men there were, to find out that knife that should cut her throat; what gaping among my lords of the clergy, to see the day wherein they might wash their goodly white rochets in her innocent blood; but especially [the bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, then lord chancellor, ruler of the roost, who then, within five days after, came unto her, with divers other of the council, and examined her of the talk that was at Ashridge, betwixt her and sir James Croft, a337 concerning her removing from thence to Donnington-castle, requiring her to declare what she meant thereby.

    At the first she, being so suddenly asked, did not well remember any such house; but within awhile, well advising herself, she said, “Indeed,” quoth she, “I do now remember that I have such a place, but I never lay in it in all my life. And as for any that hath moved me thereunto, I do not remember.”

    Then to enforce the matter, they brought forth sir James Croft. The bishop of Winchester demanded of her, what she said to that man. She answered, that she had little to say to him, or to the rest that were then prisoners in the Tower. “But my lords,” quoth she, “you do examine every mean prisoner of me, wherein, methinks, you do me great injury. If they have done evil, and offended the queen’s majesty, let them answer to it accordingly. I beseech you, my lords, join not me, in this sort, with any of these offenders. And as concerning my going unto Donnington-castle, I do remember that master Hobby and mine officers, and you sir James Croft, had such talk; but what is that to the purpose, my lords, but that I may go to mine own houses at all times?”

    The lord of Arundel kneeling down, said, “Your grace saith true, “and certainly we are very sorry that we have so troubled you about so vain matters.” She then said, “My lords, you do sift me very narrowly: but well I am assured, you shall not do more to me than God hath appointed; and so God forgive you all.”

    At their departure sir James Croft kneeled down, declaring that he was sorry to see the day in which he should be brought as a witness against her grace. “But I assure your grace,” said he, “I have been marvelously tossed and examined touching your highness, which (the Lord knoweth) is very a338 strange to me: for, I take God to record before all your honors, I do not know any thing of that crime that you have laid to my charge, and will thereupon take my death, if I should be driven to so straight a trial.

    That day, or thereabouts, divers of her own officers, who had made provision for her diet, brought the same to the outer gate of the Tower, the common rascal soldiers receiving it; which was no small grief unto the gentlemen, the bringers thereof. Wherefore they required to speak with the lord chamberlain, being then constable of the Tower; who, coming before his presence, declared unto his lordship, that they were much afraid to bring her grace’s diet, and to deliver it unto such common and desperate persons as they were, which did receive it, beseeching his honor to consider her grace, and to give such order, that her viands might at all times be brought in by them which were appointed thereunto. “Yea, sirs,” said he, “who appointed you this office? “ They answered, “Her grace’s council.” “Council! “ quoth he; “there is none of them which hath to do either in that case, or any thing else, within this place. And I assure you, for that she is a prisoner, she shall be served with the lieutenant’s men, as other the prisoners are.” Whereat the gentlemen said, that they trusted for more favor at his hands, considering her personage; saying, that they mistrusted not, but that the queen and her council would be better to her grace than so. And therewith showed themselves to be offended at the ungrateful! words of the lord chamberlain towards their lady and mistress.

    At this he sware by God (striking himself upon the breast), that if they did either frown or shrug at him, he would set them where they should see neither sun nor moon. Thus taking their leave, they desired God to bring him into a better mind toward her grace, and departed from him.

    Upon the occasion whereof, her grace’s officers made great suit unto the queen’s council, that some might be appointed to bring her diet unto her, and that it might no more be delivered unto the common soldiers of the Tower; which being reasonably considered, was by them granted. And thereupon were appointed one of her gentlemen, her clerk of her kitchen, and her two purveyors, to bring in her provision once a-day: all which was done, the warders ever waiting upon the bringers thereof.

    The lord chamberlain himself being always with them, circum-spectly and narrowly watched and searched what they brought, and gave heed that they should have no talk with any of her grace’s waiting servants; and so warded them both in and out. At the said suit of her officers, were sent by the commandment of the council, to wait upon her grace, two yeomen of her chamber, one of her robes, two of her pantry and ewery, one of her buttery, another of her cellar, two of her kitchen, and one of her larder; all which’ continued with her the time of her trouble.

    Here the constable, being at the first not very well pleased with the coming-in of such a company against his will, would have had his men still to have served with her grace’s men; which her servants at no hand would suffer, desiring his lordship to be contented, for that order was taken, that no stranger should come within their offices. At which answer being sore displeased, he brake out into these threatening words: “Well,” said he, “I will handle you well enough.” Then went he into the kitchen, and there would needs have his meat roasted with her grace’s meat, and said that his cook should come thither and dress it. To that her grace’s cook answered, “My lord, I will never suffer any stranger to come about her diet, but her own sworn men, so long as I live.” He said, they should. But the cook said, his lordship should pardon him for that matter. Thus did he trouble her poor servants very stoutly; though afterward he was otherwise advised, and they more courteously used at his hands. And good cause why; for he had good cheer, and fared of the best, and her grace paid well for it.

    Wherefore he used himself afterward more reverently toward her grace.

    After this sort, having lien a whole month there in close prison, and being very evil at ease therewithal, she sent for the lord chamberlain, and the lord Chandos, to come and speak with lier; who coming, she requested them that she might have liberty to walk in some place, for that she felt herself not well. To the which they answered, that they were right sorry that they could not satisfy her grace’s request; for that they. had commandment to the contrary, which they durst not in any wise break. Furthermore, she desired of them, if that could not be granted, that she might walk but into the queen’s lodging. No, nor yet that (they answered) could by any means be obtained without a further suit to the queen and her council. “Well,” said she, “my lords, if the matter be so hard, that they must be sued unto for so small a thing, and that friendship be so straight, God comfort me.” And so they departed, she remaining in lier old dungeon still, without any kind of comfort but only God.

    The next day after the lord Chandos came again unto her grace, declaring unto her, that he had sued unto the council for further liberty. Some of them consented thereunto, divers other dissented, for that there were so many prisoners in the Tower. But, in conclusion, they did all agree that her grace might walk into those lodgings, so that he and the lord chamberlain, and three of the queen’s gentlewomen did accompany her, the windows being shut, and she not suffered to look out at any of them: wherewith she contented herself, and gave him thanks for his good will in that behalf.

    Afterwards there was liberty granted to lier grace to walk in a little garden, the doors and gates being shut up, which notwithstanding was as much discomfort unto her, as the walk in the garden was pleasant and acceptable.

    At which times of her walking there, the prisoners on that side straitly were commanded not to speak or look out at the windows into the garden, till her grace were gone out again, having, in consideration thereof, their keepers waiting upon them for that time. Thus her grace, with this small liberty, contented herself in God, to whom be praise there-for.

    During this time, there used a little boy, a man’s child in the Tower, to resort to their chambers, and many times to bring her grace flowers, which likewise he did to the other prisoners that were there. Whereupon, naughty and suspicious heads, thinking to make and wring out some matter thereof, called on a time the child unto them, promising him figs and apples, and asked of him when he had been with the earl of Devonshire, not ignorant of the child’s wonted frequenting unto him. The boy answered, that he would go by and by thither. Further, they demanded of him, when he was with the lady Elizabeth’s grace. He answered, “Every day.” Furthermore, they examined him, what the lord of Devonshire sent by him to her grace. The child said, “I will go know, what he will give to carry to her.” Such was the discretion of the child, being yet but* 3 years of age. a339 “This same is a crafty boy,” quoth the lord chamberlain: “how say you, my lord Chandos? “ “I pray you, my lord,” quoth the boy, “give me the figs you promised me.” “No, marry,” quoth he, “thou shalt be whipped, if thou come any more to the lady Elizabeth, or the lord Courteney.” The boy answered, “I will bring my lady my mistress more flowers.” Whereupon the child’s father was commanded to permit the boy no more to come up into their chambers.

    The next day, as her grace was walking in the garden, the child, peeping in at a hole in the door, cried unto her, saying, “Mistress, I can bring you no more flowers.” Whereat she smiled, but said nothing, understanding thereby what they had done. Wherefore afterwards the chamberlain rebuked highly his father, commanding him to put him out of the house. “Alas, poor infant! “ quoth the father. “It is a crafty knave,” quoth the lord chamberlain; “let me see him here no more.”

    The 5th day of May, the constable of the Tower was discharged of his office of the Tower, and one sir Henry Benifield placed in his room, a man unknown to her grace, and therefore the more feared; which so sudden mutation was unto her no little amaze. He brought with him a hundred soldiers, in blue coats, wherewith she was marvelously discomforted, and demanded of such as were about her, whether the lady Jane’s scaffold were taken away or no; fearing, by reason of their coming, lest she should have played her part. To whom answer was made, that the scaffold was taken away, and that her grace needed not to doubt of any such tyranny; for God would not suffer any such treason against her person. Wherewith being contented, but not altogether satisfied, she asked who sir Henry Benifield was; and whether he was of that conscience, or no, that if her murdering were secretly committed to his charge he would see the execution thereof.

    She was answered, that they were ignorant what manner of man he was.

    Howbeit they persuaded her that God would not suffer such wickedness to proceed. “Well” quoth she, “God grant it be so. For thou, O God, canst mollify all such tyrannous hearts, and disappoint all such cruel purposes; and I beseech thee to hear me, thy creature, which am thy servant and at thy commandment, trusting by thy grace ever so to remain.”

    About which time it was spread abroad, that her grace should be carried from thence by this new jolly captain and his soldiers; but whither, it could not be learned: which was unto her a great grief, especially for that such a company a340 was appointed to her guard; requesting rather to continue there still, than to be led thence with such a sort of rascals. At last, plain answer was made by the lord Chandos, that there was no remedy, but from thence she must needs depart to the manor of Woodstock, as he thought. Being demanded of her, for what cause: “For that,” quoth he, “the Tower is like further to be furnished.” She being desirous to know what he meant a341 thereby, demanded, “Wherewith?”

    He answered, with such matter as the queen and council were determined in that behalf, whereof he had no knowledge; and so departed.

    In conclusion, on Trinity Sunday, being the 19th day of May, she was removed from the Tower, a342 the lord treasurer being then there, for the lading of her carts, and discharging the place of the same; where sir Henry Benifield (being appointed her jailer) did receive her, with a company of rake-hells to guard her, besides the lord of Derby’s band, wafting in the country about, a343 for the moonshine in the water. Unto whom at length came my lord of Tame, joined in commission with the said sir Henry, for the safe guiding of her to prison; and they together conveyed her grace to Woodstock, as hereafter followeth. The first day they conducted her to Richmond, where she continued all night, being restrained of her own men, which were *laid a344 * in out-chambers, and sir Henry Benifield’s soldiers appointed in their rooms to give attendance on her person. Whereat she being marvelously dismayed, thinking verily some secret mischief to be aworking towards her, called her gentleman-usher, and desired him with the rest of his company to pray for her: “For this night,” quoth she, “I think to die.” Wherewith he being stricken to the heart, said, “God forbid that any such wickedness should be pretended against your grace.” So, comforting her as well as he could, at last he burst out into tears, and went from her down into the court, where were walking the lord of Tame, and sir Henry Benifield.

    Then he, coming to the lord a345 of Tame (who had proffered to him much friendship), desired to speak with him a word or two; unto whom he familiarly said, he would with all his heart. Which when sir Henry, standing by, heard, he asked what the matter was. To whom the gentleman-usher answered, “No great matter, sir,” said he, “but to speak with my lord a word or two.”

    Then when the lord of Tame came to him, he spoke on this wise: “My lord,” quoth he, “you have been always my good lord, and so I beseech you to remain. The cause why I come to you at this time is, to desire your honor unfeignedly to declare unto me, whether any danger is meant towards my mistress this night, or no; that I and my poor fellows may take such part as shall please God to appoint: for certainly we will rather die, than she should secretly and innocently miscarry.” “Marry,” said the lord of Tame, “God forbid that any such wicked purpose should be wrought; and rather than it should be so, I with my men are ready to die at her foot also.” And so (praised be God) they passed that doleful night, a346 with no little heaviness of heart.

    Afterwards, passing over the water at Richmond, going towards Windsor, her grace espied certain of her poor servants standing on the other side, which were very desirous to see her. Whom when she beheld, turning to one of her men standing by, she said, “Yonder I see certain of my men: go to them and say these words from me, ‘Tanquam ovis;’” a347 that is, Like a sheep to the slaughter.

    So she passing forward to Windsor, was lodged there that night in the dean of Windsor’s house, a place more meet indeed for a priest than a princess.

    And from thence her grace was guarded and brought the next night to master Dormer’s house, where, much people standing by the way, some presented to her one gift, and some another, so that sir Henry was greatly moved therewith, and troubled the poor people very sore, for showing their loving hearts in such a manner, calling them rebels and traitors, with such like vile words.

    Besides, as she passed through the villages, the townsmen rang the bells, as being joyful of her coming, thinking verily it had been otherwise than it was indeed, as the sequel proved after to the said poor men. For immediately the said sir Henry, hearing the same, sent his soldiers thither, who apprehended some of the ringers, setting them in the stocks, and otherwise uncourteously misusing other some, for their good wills.

    On the morrow, her grace, passing from master Dormer’s (where was, for the time of her abode there, a strait watch kept), came to the lord of Tame’s house, where she lay all the night, being very princely entertained both of knights and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen.

    Whereat sir Henry Benifield grunted, and was highly offended, saying unto them, that they could not tell what they did, and were not able to answer their doings in that behalf; letting them to understand, that she was the queen’s majesty’s prisoner, and no otherwise; advising them therefore to take heed and beware of after-claps. Whereunto the lord of Tame answered in this wise: that he was well advised of his doings, being joined in commission as well as he, adding with warrant, that her grace might and should in his house be merry. The next day, as she should take her journey from Ricot toward Woodstock, the lord of Tame with another gentleman being at tables, playing, and dropping vie crowns, the lady Elizabeth, passing by, stayed and said she would see the game played out, which sir Henry Benifield would scarce permit. The game running long about, and they playing drop vie crowns, a348 “Come on,” saith he; “I will tarry,” saith she, “and will see this game out.”

    After this, sir Henry went up into a chamber, where were appointed for her grace a chair, two cushions, and a foot-carpet, very fair and prince-like, wherein presumptuously he sat and called one Barwick, his man, to pull off his boots: which as soon as it was known among the ladies and gentles, every one mused thereat, and laughed him to scorn, observing his undiscreet manners in that behalf, as they might very well. When supper was done, he called my lord, and willed him that all the gentlemen and ladies should withdraw themselves every one to his lodging, marvelling much that he would permit there such a company, considering so great a charge committed to him. “Sir Henry,” quoth my lord, “content yourself, all shall be voided, your men and all.” “Nay, my soldiers,” quoth sir Henry, “shall watch all night.” The lord of Tame answered, “It shall not need.” “Well,” said he, “need or need not, they shall so do;” mistrusting belike the company, which God knoweth was without cause.

    The next day her grace took her journey from thence to Woodstock, where she was enclosed, as before in the Tower of London, the soldiers guarding and warding both within and without the walls, every day to the number of sixty, and, in the night, without the walls, forty, during the time of her imprisonment there.

    At length she had gardens appointed for her walk, which was very comfortable to her grace. But always, when she did recreate herself therein, the doors were fast locked up, in as straight manner as they were in the Tower, being at the least five or six locks between her lodging and her walks; sir Henry himself keeping the keys, and trusting no man therewith.

    Whereupon she called him her jailer; and he, kneeling down, desired her grace not to call him so, for he was appointed there to be one of her officers. “From such officers,” quoth she, “good. Lord deliver me!”

    And now by the way, as digressing, or rather refreshing the reader, if it be lawful in so serious a story to recite a matter incident, and yet not impertinent, to the same; occasion here moveth, or rather enforceth me, to touch briefly what happened in the same place and time by a certain merry-conceited man, being then about her grace, who, noting the strait and strange keeping of his lady and mistress by the said sir Henry Benifield, with so many locks and doors, with such watch and ward about her, as was strange and wonderful, spied a goat in the ward where lier grace was: and. whether to refresh her oppressed mind, or to notify her strait handling by sir Henry, or else both, he took it upon his neck, and followed her grace therewith, as she was going into her lodging. Which when she saw, she asked him what he would do with it, willing him to let it alone. Unto whom the said party answered, “No, by St. Mary (if it like your grace) will I not; for I cannot tell, whether he be one of the queen’s friends, or no.

    I will carry him to sir Henry Benifield (God willing), to know what he is.”

    So leaving her grace, he went with the goat on his neck, and carried it to sir Henry Benifleld, who, when he saw him coming with it, asked him, half angerly, what he had there. Unto whom the party answered, saying, “Sir,” quoth he, “I cannot tell what he is. I pray you examine him, for I found him in the place where my lady’s grace was walking, and what talk they have had, I cannot tell: for I understand him not. But he should seem to me to be some stranger, and I think verily a Welshman, for he hath a white frieze coat on his back. And forsomuch as I, being the queen’s subject, and perceiving the strait charge committed to you of her keeping, that no stranger should have access to her without sufficient license, I have here found a stranger (what he is I cannot tell) in the place where her grace was walking; and therefore, for the necessary discharge of.my duty, I thought it good to bring the said stranger to you, to examine, as you see cause;” and so he set him down. At which his words sir Henry seemed much displeased, and said “Well, well; you will never leave this gear I see:” and so they departed.

    Now to return to the matter from whence we have digressed, after her grace had been there a time, she made suit to the council that she might be suffered to write to the queen; which at last was permitted. So sir Henry Benifield brought her pen, ink, and paper; and standing by her while she wrote (which he straitly observed), always, she being weary, he would carry away her letters, and bring them again when she called for them. In the finishing thereof, he would have been messenger to the queen of the same; whose request her grace denied, saying, one of her own men should carry them; and that she would neither trust him nor any of his therein.

    Then he answered again, saying, “None of them durst be so bold,” he trowed, “to carry her letters, being in that case.” “Yes,” quoth she, “I am assured [have none so dishonest that would deny my request in that behalf, but will be as willing to serve me now as before.” “Well,” said he, “my commission is to the contrary, and I may not so suffer it.” Her grace, replying again, said, “You charge me very often with your commission; I pray God, you may justly answer the cruel dealing you use towards me.”

    Then he, kneeling down, desired her grace to think and consider how he was a servant, and put in trust there by the queen to serve her majesty; protesting that if the case were hers, he would as willingly serve her grace, as now he did the queen’s highness. For the which his answer her grace thanked him, desiring God that she might never have need of such servants as he was: declaring further to him, that his doings towards her were not good nor answerable; but more than all the friends he had would stand by To whom sir Henry replied and said, that there was no remedy but his doings must be answered, and so they should, trusting to make good account thereof. The cause which moved her grace so to say, was for that he would not permit her letters to be carried four or five days after the writing thereof. But, in fine, he was content to send for her gentleman from the town of Woodstock, demanding of him t whether he durst enterprise the carriage of her grace’s letters to the queen, or no: and he answered, “Yea, sir, that I dare; and will with all my heart: “ whereupon sir Henry, half against his stomach, took them unto him.

    Then about the 8th of June came down Dr. Owen and Dr. Wendy, sent by the queen to her grace, for that she was sickly; who, ministering to her, and letting her blood, tarried there and attended on her grace five or six days.

    Then she, being well amended, they returned l, again to the court, making their good report to the queen and the council of her grace’s behavior and humbleness toward the queen’s highness; which her majesty hearing, took very thankfully: but the bishops thereat repined, looked black in the mouth, and told the queen, they marveled that she submitted not herself to her majesty’s mercy, considering that she had offended her highness.

    About this time, her grace was requested by a secret friend, to submit herself to the queen’s majesty, which would be very well taken, and to her great quiet and commodity. Unto whom she answered, that she would never submit herself to them, whom she never offended. “For,” quoth she, “if I have offended and am guilty, I then crave no mercy, but the law; which I am certain,” quoth she, “I should have had ere this, if it could be proved by me. For I know myself (I thank God) to be out of the danger thereof, wishing that I were as clear out of the peril of my enemies; and then I am assured I should not so be locked and bolted up within walls and doors as I am. God give them a better mind when it pleaseth him.”

    About this time there was a great consulting among the bishops and gentlemen, touching a marriage for her grace, which some of the Spaniards wished to be with some stranger, that she might go out of the realm with her portion; some saving one tiling, and some another. A lord, who shall be here nameless, being there, at last said, that the king should never have any quiet commonwealth in England, unless her head were stricken from the shoulders. Whereunto the Spaniards answered, saying, God forbid that their king and master should have that mind, to consent to such a mischief.

    This was the courteous answer of the Spaniards to the Englishmen, speaking after that sort against their own country. From that day the Spaniards never left off their good persuasions to the king, that the like honor he should never obtain, as he should in delivering the lady Elizabeth’s grace out of prison; whereby at length she was happily released from the same. Here is a plain and evident example of the good clemency and nature of the king and his councilors toward her grace (praised be God there-for!), who moved their hearts therein. Then hereupon she was sent for shortly after, to come to Hampton Court.

    But before her removing away from Woodstock, we will a little stay to declare in what dangers her life was, during this time she there remained; first, through fire, which began to kindle between the boards and ceiling under the chamber where she lay, whether by a spark of fire gotten into a cranny, or whether of purpose by some that meant her no good, the Lord doth know. Nevertheless a worshipful knight of Oxfordshire, which was there joined the same time with sir Henry Benifield in keeping that lady (who then took up the boards and quenched the fire), verily supposed it to be done of purpose.

    Furthermore it is thought, and also affirmed (if it be true) of one Paul Peny, a keeper of Woodstock, a notorious ruffian and a butcherly wretch, that he was appointed to kill the said lady Elizabeth; who both saw the man, being often in her sight, and also knew thereof.

    Another time, one of the privy-chamber, a great man about the queen, and chief darling of Stephen Gardiner, named master James Basset, came to Bladon-bridge, a mile from Woodstock, with twenty or thirty privy coats, and sent for sir Henry Benifield to come and speak with him. But as God would, which disposeth all things after the purpose of his own will, so it happened, that a little before, the said sir Henry Benifield was sent for by post to the council, leaving strait word behind him with his brother, that no man, whatsoever he were, though coming with a bill of the queen’s hand, or any other warrant, should have access to her before his return again. By reason whereof it so fell out, that master Benifield’s brother, coming to him at the bridge, would suffer him in no case to approach in, who otherwise (as is supposed) was appointed violently to murder the innocent lady.

    In the life of Stephen Gardiner we declared before, how that the lady Elizabeth being in the Tower, a writ came down, subscribed with certain hands of the council, for her execution; which, if it were certain, as it is reported, Winchester (no doubt) was deviser of that mischievous drift.

    And, doubtless, the same Ahithophel had brought his impious purpose that day to pass, had not the fatherly providence of Almighty God (who is always stronger than the devil) stirred up master Bridges, lieutenant the same time of the Tower, to come in haste to the queen, to give certificate thereof, and to know further her consent, touching her sister’s death.

    Whereupon it followed, that all that device was disappointed, and Winchester’s devilish platform, which he said he had cast, through the Lord’s great goodness came to no effect. f489 Where moreover is to be noted, that during the imprisonment of this lady and princess, one master Edmund Tremaine was on the rack, and master Smithwike, and divers others in the Tower were examined, and divers offers made to them to accuse the guiltless lady, being in her captivity.

    Howbeit, all that notwithstanding, no matter could be proved by all examinations, as she, the same time lying at Woodstock, had certain intelligence by the means of one John Gayer; who, under a colourable pretense of a letter to mistress Cleve from her, father, was let in, and so gave them secretly to understand of all this matter. Whereupon the lady Elizabeth, at her departing out from Woodstock, wrote these verses with her diamond in a glass window. Much suspected by me:

    Nothing proved can be.

    Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner.

    And thus much touching the troubles of lady Elizabeth, at Woodstock.

    Whereunto this is more to be added, that during the same time, the lord of Tame had labored to the queen, and became surety for her, to have her from Woodstock to his house; and had obtained t grant thereof.

    Whereupon preparation was made accordingly, and ‘ all things ready in expectation of her coming. But, through the procurement either of master Benifield, or by the doing of Winchester her mortal enemy, letters came overnight to the contrary; whereby her journey was stopped.

    Thus this worthy lady, oppressed with continual sorrow, could not be permitted to have recourse to any friends she had, but still in the hands of her enemies was left desolate, and utterly destitute of all that might refresh a doleful heart, fraught full of terror and thraldom. Whereupon no marvel if she, hearing upon a time, out of her garden at Woodstock, a certain milkmaid singing pleasantly, wished herself h to be a milk-maid as she was; saying that her case was better, and life more merry than was hers, in that state as she was.

    Now, after these things thus declared, to proceed further there where we left before, sir Henry Benifield and his soldiers, with the lord of Tame, and sir Ralph Chamberline, guarding and waiting upon her, the first night from Woodstock she came to Ricot; in which journey such a mighty wind did blow, that her servants were fain to hold down her clothes about her: insomuch that her hood was twice or thrice blown from her head.

    Whereupon she, desiring to return to a certain gentleman’s house there near, could not be suffered by sir Henry Benifield so to do, but was constrained, under a hedge, to trim her head as well as she could.

    After this, the next night they journeyed to master Dormer’s, and so to Coinbrooke, where she lay all that night at the George, and by the way, coming to Coinbrooke, certain of her grace’s gentlemen and yeomen met her, to the number of three-score, much to all their comforts, which had not seen her grace of long season before: notwithstanding they were commanded in the queen’s name, immediately to depart the town, to both their and her grace’s no little heaviness, who could not be suffered once to speak with them. So that night all her men were taken from her, saving her gentleman-usher, three gentlewomen, two grooms, and one of her wardrobe, the soldiers watching and warding about the house, and she close shut up within her prison.

    The next day following, her grace entered Hampton Court on the back side, into the prince’s lodging, the doors being shut to her; and she, guarded with soldiers as before, lay there a fortnight at the least, or any had recourse unto her. At length came the lord William Haward, who marvelous honorably used her grace. Whereat she took much comfort, and requested him to be a mean, that she might speak with some of the council; to whom, not long after, came the bishop of Winchester, the lord of Arundel, the lord of Shrewsbury, and secretary Peter, who, with great humility, humbled themselves to her grace. Site again, likewise, saluting them, said,” My lords, I am glad to see you: for methinks, I have been kept a great while from you desolately, alone. Wherefore I would desire you to be a mean to the king and queen’s majesties, that I may be delivered from prison, wherein I have been kept a long space, as to you, my lords, it is not unknown.”

    When she had spoken, Stephen Gardiner, the bishop of Winchester, kneeled down, and requested that she would submit herself to the queen’s grace; and in so doing he had no doubt but that her majesty would be good to her. She made answer, that rather than she would so do, she would lie in prison all the days of her life; adding, that she craved no mercy at her majesty’s hand, but rather desired the law, if ever she did offend her majesty in thought, word, or deed. “And besides this, in yielding,” quoth she, “I should speak against myself, and confess myself to be an offender, which I never was, towards her majesty, by occasion whereof the king and the queen ,night ever hereafter conceive of me an evil opinion. And therefore I say, my lords, it were better for me to lie in prison for the truth, than to be abroad and suspected of my prince.” And so they departed, promising to declare her message to the queen.

    On the next day the bishop of Winchester came again unto her grace, and kneeling down declared, that the queen marveled that she would so stoutly use herself, not confessing that she had offended: so that it should seem that the queen’s majesty had wrongfully imprisoned her grace. “Nay,” quoth the lady Elizabeth, “it may please her to punish me as she thinketh good.” “Well,” quoth Gardiner, “her majesty illeth me to tell you, that you must tell another tale or that you be set at liberty.” Her grace answered, that she had as lieve be in prison with honesty and truth, as to be abroad, suspected of her majesty: “and this that I have said, I will,” said she, “stand unto; for I will never belie myself.” Winchester again kneeled down, and said, “Then your grace hath the vantage of me, and other the lords, for your wrong and long imprisonment.” “What vantage I have,” quoth she, “you know: taking God to record, I seek no vantage at your hands for your so dealing with me; but God forgive you and me also! “ With that the rest kneeled, desiring her grace that all might be forgotten, and so departed, she being fast locked up again.

    A sevennight after, the queen sent for her grace at ten of the clock in the night to speak with her: for she had not seen her in two years before. Yet, for all that, she was amazed at the *so* sudden sending for, thinking it had been worse *for her* than afterwards it proved, and desired her gentlemen and gentlewomen to pray for her; for that she could not tell whether ever she should see them again or no. A t which time coming in, sir Henry Benifield with mistress Clarencius, her grace was brought into the garden unto a stairs’ foot that went into the queen’s lodging, her grace’s gentlewomen waiting upon her, her gentleman-usher and her grooms going before with torches; where her gentlemen and gentlewomen being commanded to stay all, saving one woman, mistress Clarencius conducted her to the queen’s bed-cham-ber, where her majesty was. At the sight of whom her grace kneeled down, and desired God to preserve her majesty, not mistrusting but that she should try herself as true a subject towards her majesty, as ever did any; and desired her majesty even so to judge of her: and said, that she should not find her to the contrary, whatsoever report otherwise had gone of her. To whom the queen answered, “You will not confess your offense, but stand stoutly in your truth: I pray God it may so fall out.” “If it cloth not,” quoth the lady Elizabeth, “I request neither favor nor pardon at your majesty’s hands.” “Well,” said the queen, “you stiffly still persevere in your truth. Belike you will not confess but that you have been wrongfully punished. “I must not say so, if it please your majesty, to you.” “Why then,” said the queen, “belike you will to others.” “No, if it please your majesty,” quoth she, “I have borne the burden, and must bear it. I humbly beseech your majesty to have a good opinion of me, and-to think me to be your true subject, not only from the beginning hitherto, but for ever, as long as life lasteth.” And so they departed with very few comfortable words of the queen, in English: but what she said in Spanish, God knoweth. It is thought that king Philip was there behind a cloth, and not seen, and that he showed himself a very friend in that matter.

    Thus her grace departing, went to her lodging again, and that day sevennight was released of sir Henry Benifield, (her jailer as she termed him), and his soldiers. And so her grace, being set at liberty from imprisonment, went into the country, and had appointed to go with her sir Thomas Pope, one of queen Mary’s councillors, and one of her gentlemen- ushers, master Gage: and thus straitly was she looked to, all queen Mary’s time. highness’s imprisonment. And this is the discourse of her highness’s imprisonment.

    Then there came to Lamheyre, master Jerningham, and master Norris, gentleman-usher, queen Mary’s men, who took away from her grace, mistress Ashley to the Fleet, and three other of her gentlewomen to the Tower; which thing was no little trouble to her grace, saying, that she thought they would fetch all away at the end. But, God be praised, shortly after was fetched away Gardiner, through the merciful providence of the Lord’s goodness, by occasion of whose opportune decease (as is partly touched in this story before) the life of this excellent princess, the wealth of all England, was preserved. For this is credibly to be supposed, that the said wicked Gardiner of Winchester had long labored his wits, and to this only most principal mark bent all his devices, to take this our happy and dear sovereign out of the way, as both by his words and doings before notified may sufficiently appear.

    But, such was the gracious and favorable providence of the Lord, to the preservation not only of her royal majesty, but also of the miserable and woeful state of this whole island, and poor subjects of the same, whereby the proud platforms and peevish practices of this wretched Ahithophel prevailed not; but, contrariwise, both he, and all the snares and traps of his pernicious counsel laid against another, were turned to a net to catch himself, according to the proverb, “Malum consilium consultori pessimum.”

    After the death of this Gardiner, followed the death also, and dropping away, of other her enemies, whereby, by little and little, her jeopardy decreased, fear diminished, and hope of comfort began to appear as out of a dark cloud; and, albeit as yet her grace had no full assurance of perfect safety, yet more gentle entertainment daily did grow unto her, till at length, in the month of November, and the 17th day of the same, three years after the death of Stephen Gardiner, followed the death of queen Mary, as hereafter, God granting, shall be more declared.

    Although this history following be not directly appertaining to the former matter, yet the same may here not unaptly be inserted, for that it doth discover and show forth the malicious hearts of the papists towards this virtuous queen, our sovereign lady, in the time of queen Mary her sister; which is reported, as a truth credibly told, by sundry honest persons, of whom some are yet alive, and do testify the same. The matter whereof is this.

    Soon after the stir of Wyat, and the troubles that happened to this queen for that cause, it fortuned one Robert Farrer, a haberdasher of London, dwelling near unto Newgate-market, in a certain morning to be at the Rose tavern (from whence he was seldom absent), and falling to his common drink, as he was ever accustomed, and having in his company three other companions like to himself, it chanced the same time one Laurence Sheriff, grocer, dwelling also not far from thence, to come into the said tavern, and, finding there the said Farrer (to whom of long time he had borne good will), sat down in the seat to drink with him; and Fatter, being in his full cups, and not having consideration who were present, began to talk at large, and namely against the lady Elizabeth, and said, “That jill hath been one of the chief doers of this rebellion of Wyat; and before all be done, she and all the heretics her partakers shall well understand of it. Some of them hope, that she shall have the crown: but she and they (I trust) that so hope, shall hop headless, or be fried with faggots, before she come to it.’

    The foresaid Laurence Sheriff, grocer, being then servant unto the lady Elizabeth, and sworn unto her grace, could no longer forbear his old acquaintance and neighbor Farrer, in speaking so irreverently of his mistress, but said unto him, “Farrer, I have loved thee as a neighbor, and have had a good opinion of thee: but, hearing of thee that I now hear, i defy thee; and I tell thee I am her grace’s sworn servant, and she is a princess, and the daughter of a noble king, and it evil becometh thee to call her a jill; and for thy so saying, I say thou art a knave, and I will complain upon thee.” “Do thy worst,” said Fatter, “for that I said, I will say again.” And so Sheriff came from his company.

    Shortly after, the said Sheriff, taking an honest neighbor with him, went before the commissioners to complain; the which commissioners sat then at Bonner the bishop of London’s house, beside Paul’s; and there were present Bonner (then being the chief commissioner), the lord Mordant, sir John Baker, Dr. Darbishire, chancellor to the bishop, Dr. Story, Dr.

    Harpsfield, and others. The aforesaid Sheriff, coming before them, declared the manner of the said Robert Farrer’s talk against the lady Elizabeth.

    Bonner answered, “Peradventure you took him worse than he meant.” “Yea, my lord,” said Dr. Story, “if you knew the man as I do, you would say there is not a better catholic, nor an honester man in the city of London.” “Well,” said Sheriff, “my lord, she is my gracious lady and mistress, and it is not to be suffered that such a varlet as he is, should call so honorable a princess by the name of a jill. And I saw yesterday, in the court, that my lord cardinal Pole, meeting her in the chamber of presence, kneeled down on his knees, and kissed her hand: and I saw also, that king Philip meeting her, made her such obeisance, that his knee touched the ground. And then methinketh it were too much to suffer such a varlet as this is, to call her jill; and to wish them to hop headless that shall wish her grace to enjoy the possession of the crown, when God shall send it unto her, as in the right of her inheritance.” “Yea! stay there:” quoth Bonner, “when God sendeth it unto her, let her enjoy it. But truly,” said he, “the man that spake the words that you have reported, meant nothing against the lady Elizabeth, your mistress; and no more do we. But he, like an honest and zealous man, feared the alteration of religion, which every good man ought to fear: and therefore,” said Bonner, “good man, go your ways home, and report well of us toward your mistress; and we will send for Farrer and rebuke him for his rash and undiscreet words, and we trust he will not do the like again.” And thus Sheriff came away, and Farrer had a flap with a fox-tail.

    Now that ye may be fully informed of the aforesaid Farrer, whom Dr.

    Story praised for so good a man, ye shall understand that the same Farrer, having two daughters being handsome maidens, the elder of them for a sum of money he himself delivered to sir Roger Chohnley, to be at his commandment; the other he sold to a knight called sir William Godolphin, to be at his commandment, whom he made his lackey, and so carried her with him, being appareled in man’s apparel, to Boulogne; and the said Farrer followed the camp. He also was a great and a horrible blasphemer of God, and a common accuser of honest and quiet men; also a common drunkard. And now I refer the life of these catholics to your judgment, to think of them as you please. But of this matter enough, and too much.

    Now let us return where we left before, which was at the death of queen Mary; after whose decease succeeded her foresaid sister, lady Elizabeth, into the right of the crown of England, who, after so long restrainment, so great dangers escaped, such blusterous storms overblown, so many injuries digested, and wrongs sustained, by the mighty protection of our merciful God, to our no small comfort and commodity, hath been exalted and erected out of thrall to liberty, out of danger to peace and quietness, from dread to dignity, from misery to majesty, from mourning to ruling: briefly, of a prisoner made a princess, and placed in her throne royal, proclaimed now queen, with as many glad hearts of her subjects, as ever was any king or queen in this realm before her, or ever shall be (I dare say) hereafter.

    Touching whose flourishing state, her princely reign, and peaceable government, with divers and sundry other things incident to the same, and especially touching the great stirs and alterations which have happened in other foreign nations, and also partly among ourselves here at home, forasmuch as the tractation hereof requireth another volume by itself, I shall therefore defer the reader to the next book or section ensuing; wherein (if the Lord so please to sustain me with leave and life) I may have to discourse of all and singular such matters done and achieved in these our latter days and memory, more at large.

    Now then, after these so great afflictions falling upon this realm, from the first beginning of queen Mary’s reign, wherein so many men, women, and children were burnt, many imprisoned, and in prison starved, divers exiled, some spoiled of goods and possessions, a great number driven from house and home, so many weeping eyes, so many sobbing hearts, so many children made fatherless, so many fathers bereft of their wives and children, so many vexed in conscience, and divers against conscience constrained to recant; and, in conclusion, never a good man almost in all the realm but suffered something during all the time of this bloody persecution: after all this (I say) now we are come at length (the Lord be praised!) to the 17th day of November, which day as it brought to the persecuted members of Christ rest from their careful mourning, so it easeth me somewhat likewise of my laborious writing, by the death I mean of queen Mary; who, being long sick before, upon the said 17th day of November, in the year above said, about three or four o’clock in the morning, yielded life to nature, and her kingdom to queen Elizabeth her sister. As touching the manner of whose death, some say that she died of a tympany, some (by her much sighing before her death) supposed she died of thought and sorrow. Whereupon her council, seeing her sighing, and desirous to know the cause, to the end they might minister the more ready consolation unto her, feared, as they said, that she took that thought for the king’s majesty her husband, which was gone from her. To whom she answering again, “Indeed,” said she, “that may be one cause, but that is not the greatest wound that pierceth my oppressed mind: “ but what that was, she would not express to them. Albeit, afterward, she opened the matter more plainly to master Rise and mistress Clarencius (if it be true that they told me, which heard it of master Rise himself); who then, being most familiar with her, and most bold about her, told her, that they feared she took thought for king Philip’s departing from her. “Not that only,” said she, “but when I am dead and opened, you shall find Calais lying in my heart.” And here an end of queen Mary, and of her persecution.

    Of queen Mary this truly may be affirmed, and left in story for a perpetual memorial or epitaph for all kings and queens that shall succeed her, to be noted — that before her, never was read in story of any king or queen of England, since the time of king Lucius, under whom, in time of peace, by hanging, beheading, burning, and prisoning, so much christian blood, so many Englishmenlives, were spilled within this realm, as under the said queen Mary for the space of four years was to be seen, and I beseech the Lord never may be seen hereafter. f495 A BRIEF DECLARATION, SHOWING THE UNPROSPEROUS SUCCESS OF QUEEN MARY IN PERSECUTING GOD’S PEOPLE, AND HOW MIGHTILY GOD WROUGHT AGAINST HER IN ALL HER AFFAIRS.

    Now, forasmuch as queen Mary, during all the time of her reign, was such a vehement adversary and persecutor against the sincere professors of Christ Jesus and his gospel: for the which there be many which do highly magnify and approve her doings therein, reputing her religion to be sound and catholic, and her proceedings to be most acceptable and blessed of Almighty God: to the intent therefore, that all men may understand, how the blessing of the Lord God did not only not proceed with her proceedings, but, contrariwise rather, how his manifest displeasure ever wrought against her, in plaguing both her and her realm, and in subverting all her counsels and attempts, whatsoever she took in hand, we will bestow a little time therein, to perpend and survey the whole course of her doings and chievances, and consider what success she had in the same.

    Which being well considered, we shall never find any reign of any prince in this land or any other, which did ever show in it (for the proportion of time), so many arguments of God’s great wrath and displeasure, as were to be seen in the reign of this queen Mary; whether we behold the shortness of her time, or the unfortunate event of all her purposes, who seemed never to purpose any thing that came luckily to pass, neither did any thing frame to her purpose, whatsoever she took in, hand, touching her own private affairs.

    Of good kings we read in the Scripture, in showing mercy and pity, in seeking God’s will in his word, and subverting the monuments of idolatry, how God blessed their ways, increased their honors, and mightily prospered all their proceedings; as we see in king David, Solomon, Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, with such others. Manasseh made the streets of Jerusalem to swim with the blood of his subjects; but what came of it the text doth testify. (2 Kings 21) Of queen Elizabeth, who now reigneth among us, this we must needs say, which we see: that she, in sparing the blood, not only of God’s servants, but also of God’s enemies, hath doubled now the reign of queen Mary her sister, with such abundance of peace and prosperity, that it is hard to say, whether the realm of England felt more of God’s wrath in queen Mary’s time, or of God’s favor and mercy in these so blessed and peaceable days of queen Elizabeth.

    Gamaliel, speaking his mind in the council of the Pharisees concerning Christ’s religion, gave this reason: (Acts 5) that if it were of God, it should continue, whosoever said nay; if it were not, it could not stand. So may it be said of queen Mary and her Romish religion; that if it were so perfect and catholic as they pretend, and the contrary faith of the gospellers were so detestable and heretical as they make it, how cometh it then, that this so catholic a queen, such a necessary pillar of his spouse the church, continued no longer, till she had utterly rooted out of the land this heretical generation? yea how chanced it rather, that Almighty God, to spare these poor heretics, rooted out queen Mary so soon from her throne, after she had reigned but only five years and five months?

    Now furthermore, how God blessed her ways and endeavors in the mean time, until site thus persecuted the true servants of God, remaineth to be discussed: where this is first to be noted, that when she first began to stand for the title of the crown, and yet had wrought no resistance against Christ and his gospel, but had promised her faith to the Suffolk-men, to maintain the religion left by king Edward her brother, so long God went with her, advanced her, and, by the means of the gospellers, brought her to the possession of the realm. But after that she, breaking her promise with God and man, began to take part with Stephen Gardiner, and had given over her supremacy unto the pope, by-and-by God’s blessing left her, neither did any thing well thrive with her afterward, during the whole time of her regiment.

    For first, incontinently, the fairest and greatest ship she had, called Great Harry, was burnt; such a vessel as in all these parts of Europe was not to be matched.

    Then would she needs bring in king Philip, and by her strange marriage with him, to make the whole realm of England subject unto a stranger.

    And, all that notwithstanding (that she either did, or was able to do), she could not bring to pass to set the crown of England upon his head. With king Philip also came in the pope and his popish mass; with whom also her purpose was to restore again the monks and nuns unto their places: neither lacked there all kind of attempts to the uttermost of her ability; and yet therein also God. stopped her of her will, that it came not forward.

    After this, what a dearth happened a349 in her time here in her land! the like whereof hath not lightly in England been seen, insomuch that in sundry places her poor subjects were fain to feed off acorns, for want of corn.

    Furthermore, where other kings are wont to be renowned by some worthy victory and prowess by them achieved, let us now see what valiant victory was gotten in this queen Mary’s days. King Edward the sixth, her blessed brother, how many rebellions did he suppress in Devonshire, in Norfolk, in Oxfordshire, and elsewhere! What a famous victory in his time was gotten in Scotland, by the singular working (no doubt) of God’s blessed hand, rather than by any expectation of man! King Edward the third (which was the eleventh king from the conquest), by princely puissance purchased Calais unto England, which had been kept English ever since, till at length came queen Mary, the eleventh likewise from the said king Edward, which lost Calais from England again; so that the winnings of this queen were very small — what the losses were let other men judge.

    Hitherto the affairs of queen Mary have had no great good success, as you have heard. But never worse success had any woman, than had she in her child-birth. For seeing one of these two must needs be granted, that either she was with child or not with child: if she were with child and did travail, why was it not seen? if she were not, how was all the realm deluded! And in the mean while, where were all the prayers, the solemn processions, the devout masses of the catholic clergy? why did they not prevail with God, if their religion were so godly as they pretend? If their masses, “ex opere operato,” be able to fetch Christ from heaven, and to reach down to purgatory, how chanced then they could not reach to the queen’s chamber, to help her in her travail, if she had been with child indeed? if not, how then came it to pass, that all the catholic church of England did so err, and was so deeply deceived?

    Queen Mary, after these manifold plagues and corrections, which might sufficiently admonish her of God’s disfavour provoked against her, would not yet cease her persecution, but still continued more and more to revenge her catholic zeal upon the Lord’s faithful people, setting fire to their poor bodies by half dozens and dozens together. Whereupon, God’s wrathful indignation increasing more and more against her, ceased not to touch her more near with private misfortunes and calamities. For after that he had taken from her the fruit of children (which chiefly and above all things she desired), then he bereft her of that, which of all earthly things should have been her chief stay of honor, and staff of comfort, that is, withdrew from her the affection and company even of her own husband, by whose marriage she had promised before to herself whole heaps of such joy and felicity. But now the omnipotent Governor of all things so turned the wheel of her own spinning against her, that her high buildings of such joys and felicities came all to a castle-come-down; her hopes being confounded, her purposes disappointed, and she now brought to desolation; who seemed neither to have the favor of God, nor the hearts of her subjects, nor yet the love of her husband; who neither had fruit by him while she had him, neither could now enjoy him whom she had married, neither yet was at liberty to marry any other whom She might enjoy. Mark here, christian reader, the woeful adversity of this queen, and learn withal what the Lord can do, when man’s willfulness will needs resist him, and will not be ruled.

    At last, when all these fair admonitions would take no place with the queen, nor move her to revoke her bloody laws, nor to stay the tyranny of her priests, nor yet to spare her own subjects, but that the poor servants of God were drawn daily by heaps most pitifully as sheep to the slaughter, it so pleased the heavenly majesty of Almighty God, when no other remedy would serve, by death to cut her off; which in her life so little regarded the life of others, giving her throne, which she abused to the destruction of Christ’s church and people, to another, who more temperately and quietly could guide the same, after she had reigned here the space of five years and five months. The shortness of which years and reign, scarce we find in any other story of king or queen since the conquest or before (being come to their own government), save only in king Richard the third.

    And thus much here, as in the closing up of this story, I thought to insinuate, touching the unlucky and rueful reign of queen Mary: not for any detraction to her place and state royal, whereunto she was called of the Lord, but to this only intent and effect: that for-so much as she would needs set herself so confidently to work and strive against the Lord and his proceedings, all readers and rulers may not only see how the Lord did work against her there-for, but also by her may be advertised and learn what a perilous thing it is for men and women in authority, upon blind zeal and opinion, to stir up persecution in Christ’s church, to the effusion of christian blood, lest it prove in the end with them (as it did here), that while they think to persecute heretics, they stumble at the same stone as did the Jews, in persecuting Christ and his true members to death, to their own confusion and destruction.

    THE SEVERE PUNISHMENT OF GOD UPON THE PERSECUTORS a628 OF HIS PEOPLE AND ENEMIES TO HIS WORD, WITH SUCH, ALSO, AS HAVE BEEN BLASPHEMERS, CONTEMNERS, AND MOCKERS OF HIS RELIGION.

    Leaving now queen Mary, being dead and gone, I come to them which, under her, were the chief ministers and doers in this persecution, the bishops and priests of the clergy, I mean, to whom queen Mary gave all the execution of her power, as did queen Alexandra to the Pharisees, after the time of the Maccabees; of whom Josephus thus writeth: “She only retained to herself the name and title of the kingdom, but all her power she gave to the Pharisees to possess. Touching which prelates and priests here is to be noted, in like sort, the wonderful and miraculous providence of Almighty God, which as he abridged the reign of their queen, so he suffered them not to escape unvisited; first beginning with Stephen Gardiner, the arch-persecutor of Christ’s church, whom he took away about the midst of the queen’s reign. Of whose poisoned life, and stinking end, forsomuch as sufficient hath been touched before, I shall not need here to make any new rehearsal thereof.

    After him, dropped others away also, some before the death of queen Mary, and some after; as Morgan, bishop of St. David’s; who, sitting upon the condemnation of the blessed martyr, bishop Ferrar, and unjustly usurping his room, not long after was stricken by God’s hand after such a strange sort, that his meat would not go down, but rise and pick up again, sometimes at his mouth, sometimes blown out at his nose, most horrible to behold; and so he continued till his death. Where note moreover, that when master Leyson, being then sheriff at bishop Ferrar’s burning, had let away the cattle of the said bishop from his servant’s house, called Matthew Harbottle, into his own custody, the cattle, coming into the sheriff’s ground, divers of them would never eat meat, but lay bellowing and roaring, and so died. a351 This foresaid bishop Morgan above mentioned, bringeth me also in remembrance of justice Morgan, who sat upon the death of the lady Jane, and not long after the same fell mad, and was bereft of his wits; and so died, having ever in his mouth, “Lady Jane, lady Jane.”

    Before the death of queen Mary, died Dr. Dunning, the bloody and wretched chancellor *or rather tormentor* of Norwich, who, after he had most rigorously condemned and murdered so many simple and faithful saints of the Lord, continued not long himself, but, in the midst of his rage in queen Mary’s days, died in Lincolnshire, being soddenly taken, as some say, sitting in his chair.

    The like sodden death fell also upon Berry, commissary in Norfolk, who (as is before showed in the story of Thomas Hudson) four days after queen Mary’s death, when he had made a great feast, and had one of his concubines there, coming home from the church after evensong, where he had ministered baptism the same time, between the churchyard and his house soddenly fell down to the ground with a heavy groan, and never stirred after, neither showed any one token of repentance.

    What a stroke of God’s hand was *wrought* upon the cruel persecutor of the holy and harmless saints of the Lord, bishop Thorntor, suffragan of Dover, who, after he had exercised his cruel tyranny upon so many godly men at Canterbury, at length coming upon a Saturday from the chapterhouse at Canterbury to Bourne, and there upon Sunday following, *being vertuously occupied* looking upon his men playing at the bowls, fell suddenly in a palsy, and so *being* had to bed was willed to remember God: “Yea, so I do,” said he, “and my lord cardinal too, etc.”

    After him succeeded another bishop or suffragan ordained by the foresaid cardinal. It is reported that he had been suffragan before to Bonner, who, not long after being made bishop or suffragan of Dover, brake his neck, falling down a pair of Stairs in the cardinal’s chamber at Greenwich, as he had received the cardinal’s blessing. *Such is the merciful dealing of the Almighty with his people, whom after he scourged a little, in his displeasure, at length he burned the rod.

    After the like working of God’s holy mercy, divers other sharp and bitter rods also were cut off in this time of queen Mary’s persecution; although some there be which escaped and are alive: for what purpose suffered of the Lord-whether for a further trial of God’s people, or for space to repent, the Lord knoweth: — as Bonner, Nicholas Harpsfield, Dr. Story, Dr. Draycot, and the justice who burnt the hand of a maid in Essex.* Among other plentiful and sundry examples of the Lord’s judgment and severity practiced upon the cruel persecutors of his people, that is not the least that followeth, concerning the story of one William Fenning, the effect and circumstance of which matter is this: - John Cooper, of the age of forty-four years, dwelling at Wattisham in the county of Suffolk, being by science a carpenter, a man of very honest report and a good housekeeper, a harborer of strangers that travailed for conscience, and one that favored religion, and those that were religious, was of honest conversation and good life, hating all popish and papistical trash.

    This man being at home in his house, there came unto him one William Fenning, a serving-man, dwelling in the said town of Wattisham; and understanding that the said Cooper had a couple of fair bullocks, did desire to buy them of him; which Cooper told him that he was lothe to sell them, for that he had brought them up for his own use, and if he should sell them, he then must be compelled to buy others; and that he would not do.

    When Fenning saw he could not get them (for he had often essayed the matter), he said, he would sit as much in his light; and so departed, and went and accused him of high treason. The words Cooper was charged with were these: How he should pray, if God would not take away queen Mary, that then he should wish the devil would take her away. Of these words did this Fenning charge him before sir Henry Doiel, knight (unto whom he was carried by master Timperley, of Hintlesham in Suffolk, and one Grimwood of Lawshall, constable); which words Cooper flatly denied, and said he never spoke them. But that could not help.

    Notwithstanding, he was arraigned there-for at Bury before sir Clement Higham, at a Lent assize; and there this Fenning brought two naughty men that witnessed the speaking of the foresaid words, whose names were Richard White of Wattisham, and Grimwood of Hitcham in the said county of Suffolk; whose testimonies were received as truth, although this good man John Cooper had said what he could, to declare himself innocent therein, but to no purpose, God knoweth. For his life was determined, as in the end appeared by sir Clement Higham’s words, who said he should not escape, for an example to all heretics; as indeed he throughly performed. For immediately he was judged to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, which was executed upon him very shortly after, to the great grief of many a good heart. Here good Cooper is bereft of his life, and leaves behind him alive his wife and nine children, with goods and cattle, to the value of three hundred marks, the which substance was all taken away by the said sir Henry Doile, sheriff, but his wife and poor children left to the wide world in their clothes, and suffered not to enjoy one penny of that they had sore labored for, unless they made friends to buy it with money of the said sheriff, so cruel and greedy were he and his officers, upon such things as were there left.

    Well, now this innocent man is dead, his goods spoiled, his wife ‘ and children left desolate and comfortless, and all things hushed, and ‘, nothing feared of any part: yet the Lord, who surely doth revenge ‘, the guiltless blood, would not still so suffer it, but began at the length to punish it himself. For in the harvest after, the said Grimwood of Hitcham (one of the witnesses before specified), as he was in his labor stacking up a goff of corn, a352 having his health, and fearing no peril, suddenly his bowels fell out of his body, and immediately most miserably he died. Such was the terrible judgment of God, to show his displeasure against his bloody act, and to warn the rest, by these his judgments to repentance.

    The Lord grant us to honor the same, for his mercy’s sake. Amen. f501 This foresaid Fenning, who was the procurer of this tyranny against him, is yet alive, and is now a minister; which if he be, I pray God he may so repent that fact, that he may declare himself hereafter such a one as may well answer to his vocation accordingly.

    But since we have heard that he is no changeling, but continueth still in his wickedness, and therefore presented before the worshipful master Humerston, esquire and justice of peace and quorum, for that he had talk with some of his friends (as he thought), how many honest women (to their great infamy) were in the parish of Wenhaston, wherein he is now vicar, resident: wherefore he was commanded the next Sunday ensuing, to ask all the parish forgiveness upon his knees openly in service-time, which he did in Wenhaston church before said; and moreover the abovesaid Fenning is reported to be more like a shifter than a minister.

    To these examples also may be added the terrible judgment of God upon the parson at Crundale in Kent, who, upon Shrove-Sunday, having received the pope’s pardon from cardinal Pole, came to his parish, and exhorted the people to receive the same, as he had done himself; saying that he stood now as clear in conscience as when he was first born, and cared not now if he should die the same hour, in that clearness of conscience: whereupon being suddenly stricken by the hand of God, and leaning a little on the one side, [he] immediately shronk down in the pulpit, and so was found dead, speaking not one word more. Read more before, vol. 7:p. 38.

    Not long before the death of queen Mary, died Dr. Capon, bishop of Salisbury. About the which time also followed the unprepared death of Dr.

    Jeffrey, chancellor of Salisbury, who in the midst of his buildings, suddenly being taken by the mighty hand of God, yielded his life, which had so little pity of other men’s lives before. Concerning whose cruelty partly mention is made before.

    As touching moreover the foresaid chancellor, here is to be noted, that he departing upon a Saturday, the next day before the same he had appointed to call before him ninety persons, and not so few, to examine them by inquisition, had not the goodness of the Lord, and his tender providence thus prevented him with death, providing for his poor servants in time.

    And now, to come from priests to laymen, we have to find in them also no less terrible demonstration of God’s heavy judgment upon such as have been vexers and persecutors of his people.

    Before, in the story of master Bradford, mention was made of master Woodroofe, who, being then sheriff, used much to rejoice at the death of the poor saints of Christ, and so hard he was in his office, that when master Rogers was in the cart going toward Smithfield, and in the way his children were brought unto him, the people making a lane for them to come; master Woodroofe bade the carman’s head should be broken, for staying his cart. But what happened P He was not come out of his office the space of a week, but he was stricken by the sudden hand of God, the one half of his body; in such sort, that he lay benumbed and bedridden, not able to move himself but as he was lifted of others; and so continued in that infirmity the space of seven or eight years, till his dying day.

    Likewise touching Ralph Lardin, the betrayer of George Eagles, it is thought of some, that the said Ralph afterward was attached himself, arraigned, and hanged. Who, being at the bar, had these words before the judges there, and a great multitude of people: “This is most justly fallen upon me,” saith he, “for that I have betrayed the innocent blood of a good and just man, George Eagles, who was here condemned in the time of queen Mary’s reign, through my procurement, who sold his blood for a little money.”

    Not much unlike stroke of these severally was showed upon William Swallow of Chelmsford, and his wife; also upon Richard Potto, and justice Brown, cruel persecutors of the said George Eagles, concerning whose story read before.

    Among other persecutors also came to our hands the cruelty of one master Swingfield, an alderman’s deputy about Thames-street, who, hearing *of* one Angel’s wife, a midwife that kept herself from their popish church, to be at the labor of one mistress Walter, at Crooked-lane-end, took three others with him, and beset the house about, and took her, and carried her to Bonner’s officers, big with child, eight-and-twenty weeks gone, who laid her in Lollards’ Tower; where, the same day she came in, through fear, and a fall at her taking, she was delivered of a man-child, and could have no woman with her in that needful time. Lying there five weeks, she was delivered under sureties by friendship, and Dr. Story, hearing thereof, charged her with felony, and so sent her to Newgate. The cause was, for that she had a woman at her house in her labor that died, and the child also; and so he charged her with their death. But when sir Roger Cholmley heard her tell her tale, he delivered her; and not much more than ten weeks after, if it were so long, died the said master Swingfield and the other three that came to take her.

    Because some there be, and not a few, which have such a great devotion in setting up the popish mass, I shall desire them to mark well this story following. There was a certain bailiff, of Crowland in Lincolnshire, named Burton, who, pretending an earnest friendship to the gospel in king Edward’s days, in outward show at least (although inwardly he was a papist or atheist, and well known to be a man of a wicked and adulterous life), set forth the kingproceedings lustily, till the time that king Edward was dead and queen Mary placed quietly in her estate. Then, perceiving by the first proclamation t concerning religion, how the world was like to turn, the bailiff turned his religion likewise; and so he moved the parish to show themselves the queenfriends, and to set up the mass speedily.

    Nevertheless, the most substantial of the parish, marvelling much at the bailiff’s inconstant lightness, considering also his abominable life, and having no great devotion unto his request, knowing moreover that their duty and friendship to the queen stood not in setting up the mass, spared to provide for it, as long as they might: but the bailiff called on them still in the queen’s name.

    At last, when he saw his words were not regarded, and purposing to win his spurs by playing the man in the mass’s behalf and the queen’s, he got him to church upon a Sunday morning; and when the curate was beginning the English service, according to the statute set forth by king Edward the sixth, the bailiff cometh in a great rage to the curate, and saith, “Sirrah! will you not say mass? Buckle yourself to mass, you knave, or, by God’s blood, I shall sheath my dagger in your shoulder.” The poor curate, for fear, settled himself to the mass.

    Not long after this, the bailiff rode from home upon certain business, accompanied with one of his neighbors; and as they came riding together upon the fen-bank homeward again, a crow, sitting in a willow-tree, took her flight over his head, singing after her wonted note, “Knave, knave! “ and withal let fall upon his face, so that her excrements ran from the top of his nose down to his beard.

    The poisoned scent and savor whereof so noyed his stomach, that he never ceased vomiting until he came home, wherewith his heart was so sore and his body so distempered, that for extreme sickness he got him to bed; and so lying, he was not able for the stink in his stomach and painful vomiting, to receive any relief of meat or drink, but cried out still, sorrowfully complaining of that stink, and with no small oaths cursed the crow that poisoned him. To make short, he continued but a few days, but with extreme pain of vomiting and crying, he desperately died, without any token of repentance of his former lite. This was reported and testified, for a certainty, by divers of his neighbors, both honest and credible persons.

    Of James Abbes, martyr, ye heard before. In the time of whose martyrdom, what befel upon a wicked railer against him, now ye shall further understand; whereby all such railing persecutors may learn to fear God’s hand, and to take heed how or what they speak against his servants.

    As this James Abbes a353 was led by the sheriff toward his execution, divers poor people stood in the way, and asked their alms. He then, having no money to give them, and desirous yet to distribute something amongst them, did pull off all his apparel saving his shirt, and gave the same unto them, to some one thing, to some another; in the giving whereof he exhorted them to be strong in the Lord, and as faithful followers of Christ, to stand stedfast unto the truth of the gospel, which he (through God’s help) would then in their sight seal and confirm with his blood. While he was thus charitably occupied, and zealously instructing the people, a servant of the sheriff’s going by, and hearing him, cried out aloud unto them, and blasphemously said, “Believe him not, good people: he is a heretic and a madman, out of his wit; believe him not, for it is heresy that he saith.” And as the other continued in his godly admonitions, so did this wicked wretch still blow forth his blasphemous exclamations, until they came unto the stake where he should suffer; unto the which this constant martyr was tied, and in the end cruelly burnt, as in his story more fully is already declared.

    But immediately after the fire was put unto him (such was the fearful stroke of God’s justice upon this blasphemous railer), that he was there presently, in the sight of all the people, stricken with a frenzy, wherewith he had before most railingly charged that good martyr of God, who, in this furious rage and madness casting off his shoes, with all the rest of his clothes, cried out unto the people, and said, “Thus did James Abbes, that true servant of God, who is saved; but I am damned.” And thus ran he round about the town of Bury, still crying out, that James Abbes was a good man, and saved; but he was damned.

    The sheriff then, being amazed, caused him to be taken and tied in a dark house, and by force compelled him again to put on his clothes, thinking thereby within a while to bring him to some quietness. But he (all that notwithstanding), as soon as they were gone, continued his former raging; and casting off his clothes, cried as he did before, “James Abbes is the servant of God, and is saved; but I am damned.”

    At length he was tied in a cart, and brought home unto his master’s house, and within half a year or thereabouts, he being at the point of death, the priest of the parish was sent for; who, coming unto him, brought with him the crucifix, and their houseling host of the altar: which gear when the poor wretch saw, he cried out of the priest, and defied all that baggage, saying, that the priest, with such others as he was, were the cause of his damnation; and that James Abbes was a good man and saved. And so, shortly after, he died.

    Clarke, an open enemy to the gospel and all godly preachers, in king Edward’s days, hanged himself in the Tower of London.

    The great and notable papist, called Trolling Smith, of late fell down suddenly in the street, and died.

    Dale the promoter was eaten into his body with lice, and so died; as it is well known of many, and confessed also by his fellow John Avales, before credible witness.

    Coxe an earnest protestant in king Edward’s days, and in queen Mary’s time, a papist and a promoter, going well and in health to bed (as it seemed), was dead before the morning. This was testified by divers of the neighbors.

    Alexander the keeper of Newgate, a cruel enemy to those that lay there for religion, died very miserably, being so swollen that he was more like a monster than a man, and so rotten within, that no man could abide the smell of him. This cruel wretch, to hasten the poor lambs to the slaughter, would go to Bonner, Story, Cholmley, and others, crying out, “Rid my prison; rid my prison. I am too much pestered with these heretics.”

    The son of the said Alexander called James, having left unto him: by his father great substance, within three years wasted all to nought: and when some marveled how he spent those goods so fast, “O!” said he, “evil gotten, evil spent.” And shortly after, as he went in Newgate-market, he fell down suddenly, and there wretchedly died.

    John Peter, son-in-law to this Alexander, and a horrible blasphemer of God, and no less cruel to the said prisoners, rotted away, and so most miserably died; who commonly when he would affirm any thing, were it true or false, used to say, “If it be not true, I pray God I rot ere I die.” — Witness the printer hereof, with divers others.

    With these I might infer the sudden death of justice Lelond, persecutor of Jeffrey Hurst, mentioned before.

    Also the death of Robert Baulding, stricken with lightning at the taking of William Seaman, whereupon he pined away and died: the story of the which William Seaman see before.

    Likewise the wretched end of Beard the promoter.

    Moreover the consuming away of Robert Blomfield, persecutor of William Brown, specified before.

    Further, to return a little backward to king Henry’s time, here might be induced also the example of John Rockwood, who, in his horrible end cried “All too late,” with the same words which he had used before, in persecuting God’s poor people of Calais.

    Also the judgment of God upon lady Honor a persecutor, and of George Bradway, a false accuser, both bereft of their wits.

    And what a notable spectacle of God’s revenging judgment have we to consider in sir Ralph Ellerker, who as he was desirous to see the heart taken out of Adam Damlip, whom they most wrongfully put to death: so, shortly after the said sir Ralph Ellerker being slain of the Frenchmen, they all to mangling him, after they had cut off his privy members, would not so leave him, before they might see his heart cut out of his body.

    Dr. Foxford, chancellor to bishop Stokesley, a cruel persecutor, died suddenly.

    Pavier or Pavy, town-clerk of London, and a bitter enemy to the gospel, hanged himself. Stephen Gardiner, hearing of the pitiful end of judge Hales, after he had drowned himself, talcing occasion thereby, called the following and profession of the gospel a doctrine of desperation. But as judge Hales never fell into that inconvenience before he had consented to papistry, so whoso well considereth the end of Dr. Pendleton (which at his death full sore repented that ever he had yielded to the doctrine of the papists as he did), and likewise the miserable end of the most part of the papists besides, and especially of Stephen Gardiner himself (who after so long professing the doctrine of papistry, when there came a bishop to him in his death-bed, and put him in remembrance of Peter denying his Master; he answering again, said that he had denied with Peter, but never repented with Peter — and so both stinkingly and unrepentantly died), will say as Stephen Gardiner also himself gave an evident example of the same to all men, to understand that popery rather is a doctrine of desperation, procuring the vengeance of Almighty God to them that wilfully do cleave unto it.

    John Fisher bishop of Rochester, and sir Thomas More in king Henry’s time, after they had brought John Frith, Bayfield and Bainham, and divers others to their death, what great reward won they thereby with Almighty God? Did not the sword of God’s vengeance light upon their own necks shortly after, and they themselves made a public spectacle at the Towerhill of bloody death, which before had no compassion of the lives of others? Thus ye see the saying of the Lord to be true, “He that smiteth with the sword, shall perish with the sword.”

    So was Heliodorus, in the old time of the Jews, plagued by God’s hand in the temple of Jerusalem.(2 Maccabees 3.)

    So did Antiochus, Herod, Julian, Valerian the emperor, Decius, Maxentius, with infinite others, after they had exercised their cruelty upon God’s people, feel the like striking hand of God themselves also, in revenging the blood of his servants.

    And thus much concerning those persecutors, as well of the clergy-sort as of the laity, which were stricken, and died before the death of queen Mary.

    With whom also are to be numbered in the race of persecuting bishops, which died before queen Mary, these bishops following.

    PERSECUTING BISHOPS THAT DIED BEFORE QUEEN MARY. Cotes , bishop of Chester. King , bishop of Tame. Parfew , bishop of Hereford. Petow , elect of Salisbury. Glyn , bishop of Bangor. Day , bishop of Chichester. Brookes , bishop of Gloucester Holyman , bishop of Bristol.

    Now, after the queen, immediately followed, or rather waited upon her, the death of cardinal Pole, who the next day departed: of what disease, although it be uncertain to many, yet by some it is suspected, that he took some Italian physic, which did him no good. Then followed these bishops in order:

    PERSECUTING BISHOPS THAT DIED AFTER QUEEN MARY. John Christopherson , bishop of Chichester. Hopton , bishop of Norwich. Morgan , bishop of St. David’s. John White, bishop of Winchester. Ralph Bayne , bishop of Lichfield and Coventry. Owen Oglethorpe, bishop of Carlisle. Cuthbert Tonstall , bishop of Durham. f503 Thomas Reynolds, elect of Hereford, after his deprivation died in prison.

    BESIDES THESE BISHOPS ABOVE NAMED, FIRST DIED AT THE SAME TIME, Dr. Weston, dean of Westminster, afterwards dean of Windsor; chief disputer against Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer.

    Master Slethurst, master of Trinity college in Oxford, who died in the Tower. Seth Holland, dean of Worcester, and warden of All Souls’ college in Oxford.

    William Copinger, monk of Westminster, who bare the great seal before Stephen Gardiner, after the death of the said Gardiner, made himself monk in the house of Westminster; and shortly after fell mad, and died in the Tower. Dr. Steward, dean of Winchester.

    To behold the working of God’s judgments, it is wondrous. In the first year of queen Mary, when the clergy were assembled in the Convocationhouse, and also afterward, when the disputation was in Oxford against Drs. Cranmer, and Ridley, and master Latimer, he that had seen then Dr.

    Weston the prolocutor in his ruff, how highly he took upon him in the schools, and how stoutly he stood in the pope’s quarrel against simple and naked truth, full little would have thought, and less did he think himself (I dare say), that his glory and lofty looks should have been brought down so soon, especially by them of his own religion, whose part he so doughtily defended.

    But such is the reward and end commonly of them, who presumptuously oppose themselves to strive against the Lord, as by the example of this doctorly prolocutor right well may appear. For not long after the disputation above mentioned against bishop Cranmer and his fellows, God so wrought against the said Dr. Weston, that he fell in great displeasure with cardinal Pole and other bishops, because he was unwilling to give up his deanery, and house or’ Westminster, unto the monks and religious men, whom indeed he favored not, although in other things he maintained the church of Rome: who notwithstanding, at last, through importunate suit, gave up Westminster, and was dean of Windsor; where, not long after, he was apprehended in adultery, and for the same was by the cardinal put from all his spiritual livings. Wherefore he appealed to Rome, and purposed to have fled out of the realm, but was taken by the way, and committed to the Tower of London; and there remained until queen Elizabeth was proclaimed queen, at which time he being delivered, fell sick and died. The common talk was, that if he had not so suddenly ended his life, he would have opened and revealed the purpose of the chief of the clergy (meaning the cardinal), which was to have taken up king Henry’s body at Windsor, and to have burned it. And thus much of Dr. Weston.

    The residue that remained of the persecuting clergy, and escaped the stroke of death, were deprived, and committed to prisons; the catalogue of whose names here followeth.

    Persecuting Bishops, etc. committed to the Tower. Nicholas Heath , archbishop of York, and lord chancellor. Thomas Thirlby , bishop of Ely. Thomas Watson , bishop of Lincoln. Gilbert Bourne , bishop of Bath and Wells. Richard Pate , bishop of Worcester. Turberville , bishop of Exeter. John Fecknam , abbot of Westminster. John Boxall , dean of Windsor and Peterborough. f504 Of David Pole, bishop of Peterborough, I doubt whether he was in the Tower, or in some other prison.

    PERSECUTING BISHOPS WHO RAN AWAY. Goldwell , bishop of St. Asaph. Maurice , elect of Bangor. Edmund Bonner , bishop of London, in the Marshalsea. Thomas Wood , bishop elect, in the Marshalsea. Cuthbert Scott , bishop of Chester, was in the Fleet; from whence he escaped to Louvain, and there died.

    PERSECUTORS COMMITTED TO THE FLEET. Henry Cole , dean of Paul’s. John Harpsfield , archdeacon of London, and dean of Norwich. Nicholas Harpsfield , archdeacon of Canterbury. Anthony Draycot , archdeacon of Huntingdon. William Chedsey , archdeacon of Middlesex.

    Concerning which Dr. Chedsey here is to be noted, that in the beginning of king Edward’s reign, he recanted, and subscribed to thirty-four articles, wherein he then fully consented and agreed, with his own handwriting, to the whole form of doctrine approved and allowed then in the church, as well concerning justification by faith only, as also the doctrine of the two sacraments then received, denying as well the pope’s supremacy, transubstantiation, purgatory, invocation of saints, elevation and adoration of the sacrament, the sacrifice, and veneration of the mass, as also all other like excrements of popish superstition, according to the king’s book then set forth.

    Wherefore the more marvel it is, that he, being counted such a famous and learned clerk, would show himself so fickle and unstable in his assertions, so double in his doings, to alter his religion according to time, and to maintain for truth, not what he thought best, but what he might most safely defend. So long as the state of the lord protector and of his brother stood upright, what was then the conformity of this Dr. Chedsey, his own articles in Latin, written and subscribed with his own hand, do declare, which I have to show, if he will deny them. But after the decay of the king’s uncles, the fortune of them turned not so fast, but his religion turned withal, and eftsoons he took upon him to dispute against Peter Martyr, in upholding transubstantiation at Oxford, which, a little before, with his own handwriting he had overthrown.

    After this ensued the time of queen Mary, wherein Dr. Chedsey, to show his double diligence, was so eager in his commission to sit in judgment, and to bring poor men to their death, that in the last year of queen Mary, when the lord chancellor, sir Thomas Cornwallis, lord Clinton, and divers other of the council had sent for him, by a special letter, to repair unto London out of Essex, he, writing again to the bishop of London, sought means not to come at the council’s bidding, but to continue still in his persecuting progress. The copy of whose letter I have also in my hands (if need were), to bring forth.

    Mention was made not long before, of one William Maidon, who, in king Henry’s time suffered stripes and scourgings for confessing the verity of God’s true religion. It happened in the first year of queen Elizabeth, that the said William Maidon was bound servant with one named master Hugh Aparry, then a wheat-taker for the queen, dwelling at Greenwich; who being newly come unto him, and having never a book there to look upon, being desirous to occupy himself virtuously, looked about the house, and found a Primer in English, whereon he read in a winter’s evening. While he was reading, there sat one John Apowel, that had been a serving man, about thirty years of age, born toward Wales, whom the said master Hugh gave meat and drink unto, till such time as he could get a service. And as the foresaid William Maldon read on the book, the said John Apowel mocked him after every word, with contrary gauds and flouting words irreverently, insomuch that he could no longer abide him for grief of heart, but turned unto him and said, “John, take heed what thou dost; thou dost not mock me, but thou mockest God: for in mocking of his word, thou mockest him; and this is the word of God, though I be simple that read it; and therefore beware what thou dost.”

    Then Maldon fell to reading again, and still he proceeded on in his mocking; and when Maldon had read certain English prayers, in the end he read, “Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us,” etc.

    And as Maldon was reciting these words, the other with a start suddenly said, “Lord have mercy upon me.”

    With that Maldon answered and said, “What ailest thou, John?”

    He said, “I was afraid.” “Whereof wast thou afraid?” said Maldon. “Nothing now,” said the other; and so he would not tell him.

    After this, when Maldon and he went to bed, Maldon asked him, whereof he was afraid? He said, “When you read, ‘ Lord have mercy upon us, Christ have mercy upon us,’ methought the hair of my head stood upright, with a great fear which came upon me.”

    Then said Maldon, “John, thou mayest see, the evil spirit could not abide that Christ should have mercy upon us.” “Well, John,” said Maldon, “repent and amend thy life, for God will not be mocked. If we mock and jest at his word, he will punish us. Also you use ribaldry words, and swearing very much: therefore for God’s sake, John, amend thy life.” “So I will,” said he, “by the grace of God; I pray God I may.” “Amen,” said the other, with other words; and so went to bed.

    On the morrow, about eight of the clock in the morning, the fore-said John came running down out of his chamber, in his shirt, into the hall, and wrestled with his mistress, as if he would have thrown her down. Whereat she shrieked out, and her servants helped her, and took him by strength and carried him up into his bed, and bound him down to his bed; for they perceived plainly that he was out of his right mind.

    After that, as he lay, almost day and night his tongue never ceased, but he cried out of the devil of hell, and his words were ever still, “O the devil of hell; now the devil of hell; I would see the devil of hell. Thou shalt see the devil of hell; there he was, there he goeth; “ with other words, but most of the devil of hell.

    Thus he lay without amendment about six days, that his master and all his household were weary of that trouble and noise. Then his master agreed with the keepers of Bedlam, and gave a piece of money, and sent him thither. It seemeth that he was possessed with an evil spirit, from the which God defend us all.

    This is a terrible example to you that be mockers of the word of God: therefore repent and amend, lest the vengeance of God fall upon you in like manner. — Witness hereof William Maldon, of Newington.

    The same William Maldon, chanced afterward to dwell at a town six miles from London, called Walthamstow, where his wife taught young children to read, which was about the year of our Lord 1563, and the fourth year of queen Elizabeth’s reign. Unto this school, amongst other children, came one Benfield’s daughter, named Dennis, about the age of twelve years.

    As these children sat talking together, they happened among other talk (as the nature of children is to be busy with many things) to fall into communication of God, and to reason among themselves, after their childish discretion, what he should be. Whereunto some answered one thing, some another. Among whom, when one of the children had said, that he was a good old Father; the foresaid Dennis Benfield, casting out impious words of horrible blasphemy, “What! he,” said she, “is an old doting fool.”

    What wretched and blasphemous words were these, ye hear. Now mark what followed. When William Maldon heard of these abominable words of the girl, he willed his wife to correct her for the same: which was appointed the next day to be done. But when the next morrow came, her mother would needs send her to the market to London, the wench greatly entreating her mother that she might not go, being marvelously unwilling thereunto. Howbeit, through her mother’s compulsion, she was forced to go, and went. And what happened? Her business being done at London, as she was returning again homeward, and being a little past Hackney, suddenly the young girl was so stricken, that all the one side of her was black, and she speechless. Whereupon immediately she was carried back to Hackney, and there the same night was buried. — The witness of the same story was William Maidon and his wife; also Ben field her father, and her mother, which yet be all alive.

    A terrible example, no doubt, both to old and young, what it is for children to blaspheme the Lord their God, and what it is for parents to suffer their young ones to grow up in such blasphemous blindness, and not to nurture them betimes in the rudiments of the christian catechism, to know first their creation, and then their redemption in Christ our Savior, to fear the name of God, and to reverence his majesty. For else what do they deserve but to be taken away by death, which contemptuously despise him, of whom they take the benefit of life And therefore let all young maids, boys, and young men, take example by this wretched silly wench, not only not to blaspheme the sacred majesty of the omnipotent God their creator, but also not once to take his name in vain, according as they are taught in his commandments.

    Secondly, let all fathers, godfathers, and godmothers, take this for a warning, to see to the instruction and catechizing of their children, for whom they have bound themselves in promise both to’ God and to his church. Which if the father and godfather, the mother and godmothers had done to this young girl, verily it may be thought this destruction had not fallen upon her.

    Thirdly, let all blind atheists, epicures, mammonists, belly-gods of this world, and sons of Belial, hypocrites, infidels, and mockers of religion, which say in their hearts, there is no God, learn also hereby, not only what God is, and what he is able to do, but also in this miserable creature here punished in this world, behold what shall likewise fall on them in the world to come, unless they will be warned betimes, by such examples as the Lord God doth give them.

    Fourthly and lastly, here may also be a spectacle for all them which be blasphemers and abominable swearers, or rather tearers of God, abusing his glorious name in such contemptuous and despiteful sort as they use to do; whom if neither the word and commandment of God, nor the calling of the preachers, nor remorse of conscience, nor rule of reason, nor their withering age, nor hoary hairs will admonish; yet let these terrible examples of God’s strict judgment somewhat move them to take heed to themselves. For if this young maiden, who was not fully twelve years old, for her irreverent speaking of God (and that but at one time), did not escape the stroke of God’s terrible hand, what then have they to look for, which, being men grown in years and stricken in age, being so often warned and preached unto, yet cease not continually with their blasphemous oaths, not only to abuse his name, but also most contumeliously and despitefully to tear him (as it were), and all his parts in pieces?

    About the year of our Lord 1565, at Brightwell in the county of Berks, upon certain communication as touching the right reverend martyrs in Christ, bishop Cranmer, bishop Ridley, and master Hugh Latimer, there came into a house in Abingdon one whose name is Levar, being a ploughman, dwelling in Brightwell aforesaid; and said, that he saw that ill favored knave Latimer when he was burnt; and also in despite said, that he had teeth like a horse. At which time and hour, as near as could be gathered, the son of the said Levar most wickedly hanged himself, at Shipton in the county aforesaid, within a mile of Abingdon.

    Did not Thomas Arundel, archbishop of Canterbury, give sentence against the lord Cobham, and died himself before him, being so stricken in his tongue, that neither he could swallow nor speak for a certain space before his death. f506 Friar Campbel, the accuser of Patrick Hamilton in Scotland, what a terrible end he had, read before. f507 Harvey, a commissary, that condemned a poor man in Calais, was shortly after hanged, drawn and quartered.

    William Swallow, the cruel tormentor of George Eagles, was shortly after so plagued of God, that all the hair of his head, and nails of his fingers and toes went off’, his eyes well near closed up, that he could scant see. His wife also was stricken with the falling sickness, with the which malady she was never infected before.

    Likewise Richard Porto, another troubler of the said George Eagles, upon a certain anger or chafe with his servants, was so suddenly taken with sickness, that falling upon his bed like a beast, there he died and never spoke word.

    Richard Denton, a shrinker from the gospel, while he refused to suffer the fire in the Lord’s quarrel, was afterward burnt in his own house with two more.

    The wife of John Fetty, being the cause of the taking of her husband, how she was, immediately upon the same, by God’s hand stricken with madness, and was distract out of her wits, read before.

    Thomas Mouse and George Revet, two persecutors, were stricken miserably with the hand of God, and so died.

    Also Robert Edgore, for that he had executed the office of a parish clerk against his conscience, through anguish and grief of conscience for the same, was so bereft of his wits, that he was kept in chains and bonds many years after.

    As touching John Plankney, fellow of New College in Oxford, civilian, and one Havington, both fellows of the same house aforesaid, and both stubborn papists, the matter is not much worthy the memory; yet the example is not unworthy to be noted, to see what little comfort and grace commonly followeth the comfortless doctrine and profession of papistry, as in these two young men, amongst many other may well appear. Of whom the one, which was Plankney, scholar sometime to Marshal (who wrote the Book of the Cross), is commonly reported and known to them of that university, to have drowned himself in the river about Rewley, at Oxford, a354 anno 1556; the other in a well about Rome, or as some do say at Padua, and so being both drowned, were both taken up with crucifixes (as it is said of some) hanging about their necks; the more pity that such young students did so much addict their wits, rather to take the way of papistry, than to walk in the comfortable light of the gospel, now so brightly spreading his beams in all the world; which if they had done, I think not contrary, but it had proved much better with them.

    Albeit (I trust) the gospel of Christ, being now received in the queen’s court amongst the courtiers and servants of her guard, hath framed their lives and manners so to live in the due fear of God, and temperance of life, with all sobriety, and merciful compassion toward their own Christians, that they need not greatly any other instructions to be given them in this story: yet forsomuch as examples many times do work more effectually in the minds and memories of men; and also partly considering with myself, how these, above all other sorts of men in the whole realm, in time past ever had most need of such wholesome lessons and admonitions, to leave their inordinate riot of quaffing and drinking, and their heathenish profanity of life; I thought here to set before their eyes a terrible example, not of a strange and foreign person, but of one of their own coat, a yeoman of the guard, not reigned by me, but brought to me by God’s providence, for a warning to all courtiers; and done of very truth no longer ago than in the year of our Lord 1568. And as the story is true, so is the name of the party not unknown, being called Christopher Landesdale, dwelling in Hackney, in Middlesex; the order of whose life, and manner of his death, being worthy to be noted, is this, as in story hereunder followeth.

    This foresaid Landesdale being married to an ancient woman yet living, having by her both goods and lands, notwithstanding lived long in filthy whoredom with a younger woman, by whom he had two children, a son and a daughter, and kept them in his house unto the day of his death. Also, when he should have been in, serving of God on the Sabbath-day, he used to walk or ride about his fields, and seldom he or any of his house came to the church after the English service was again received. Besides this, he was a great swearer, and a great drunkard, and had great delight also in making other men drunken; and would have them whom he had made drunkards, to call him father, and he would call them his sons; and of these sons, by report, he had above forty. And if he had seen one that would drink freely, he would mark him, and spend his money with him liberally in ale or wine, but most in wine, to snake him the sooner drunken. These blessed sons of his should have great cheer oftentimes, both at his own house and at taverns: and, not long before his death, he was so beastly drunken in a tavern, over against his door, that he fell down in the tavernyard, and could not rise alone, but lay grovelling, till he was holpen up, and so carried home.

    This father of drunkards, as he was a great feaster of the rich and wealthy of Hackney, and others; so his poor neighbors and poor tenants fared little better for him: except it were with some broken meat which after his feasts his wife would carry and send unto them, or some alms given at his door.

    Besides all this, he did much injury to his poor neighbors, in oppressing the commons near about him, which was a special relief unto them; so that his cattle did eat up all without pity or mercy.

    There chanced after this, about two years before he died, a poor man, being sick of the bloody flux, for very weakness to lie down in a ditch of the said Landesdale’s. not a stone’s east from his house, where he had a little straw brought him: notwithstanding the said Landesdale had back houses and barns enough, to have laid him in, but would not show him so much pity.

    And thus poor Lazarus there lay night and day, about six days ere he died.

    Certain good neighbors, hearing of this, procured things necessary for his relief; but he was so far spent, that he could not be recovered; who lay broiling in the hot sun, with a horrible smell, most pitiful to behold.

    This poor man, a little before he died, desired to be removed to another ditch, into the, shadow; whereupon, one of the neighbors coming to Landesdale’s wife for a bundle of straw for him to lie upon, she required to have him removed to Newington side, because, she said, if he should die, it would be very far to carry him to the church.

    Besides this, there was a marriage in this Landesdale’s house, and the guests that came to the marriage gave the poor man money as they came and went by him, but Landesdale disdained to contribute any relief unto him, notwithstanding that he had promised to master Searles, one of the queen’s guard (who had more pity of him), to minister to him things necessary.

    To be short, the next day poor Lazarus departed this life, and was buried in Hackney churchyard; upon whom Landesdale did not so much as bestow a winding-sheet, or any thing else towards his burial. And thus much concerning the end of poor Lazarus. Now let us hear what became of the rich glutton.

    About two years after, the said Landesdale, being full of drink (as his custom was), came riding in great haste from London on St. Andrew’s-day, anno 1568, and (as is reported by those that saw him), reeling to and fro like a drunkard with his hat in his hand, and coming by a ditch-side, there troubled in headlong into the ditch. Some say that the horse fell upon him, but that is not like. This is true; the horse, more sober than the master, came home, leaving his master behind him. Whether he brake his neck with the fall, or was drowned (for the water was scarcely a foot deep), it is uncertain; but certain it is, that he was there found dead. Thus he, being found dead in the ditch, the coroner (as the manner is) sat upon him: and how the matter was handled for saving his goods, the Lord knoweth; but in the end so it fell out, that the goods were saved, and the poor horse indited for his master’s death. The neighbors, hearing of the death of this man, and considering the manner thereof, said it was justly fallen upon him, that as he suffered the poor man to lie and die in the ditch near unto him, so his end was to die in a ditch likewise.

    And thus hast thou in this story, christian brother and reader, the true image of a rich glutton and poor Lazarus set out before thine eyes; whereby, we have all to learn, what happeneth in the end to such voluptuous epicures and atheists, who, being void of all sense of religion, and fear of God, yield themselves over to all profanity of life, neither regarding any honesty at home, nor showing any mercy to their needy neighbors abroad.

    Christ our Savior saith, “Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy: but judgment without mercy shall be executed on them which have showed no mercy,” etc. (Matthew 5). And St. John saith, “He that seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” etc. (1 John 4.) Again Isaiah, against such profane drunkards and quaffers, thus crieth out: “Woe be unto them that rise up early to follow drunkenness, and to them that so continue until night, till they be set on fire with wine. In those companies are harps and lutes, tabrets and pipes and wine: but they regard not the works of the Lord, and consider not the operation of his hands,” etc. “Woe be unto them that are strong to spue out wine, and expert to set up drunkenness.”

    The punishments of them that be dead, be wholesome documents to them that be alive. And therefore, as the story above exemplified may serve to warn all courtiers and yeomen of the guard; so, by this that followeth, I would wish all gentlemen to take good heed and admonition betimes, to leave their outrageous swearing and blaspheming of the Lord their God.

    In the time and reign of king Edward, there was in Cornwall a certain lusty young gentleman, which did ride in company with other more gentlemen, together with their servants, being about the commandment was given in all London, that every one should keep the church, and carry their palms, while in the mean season she might be conveyed without all recourse of people into the Tower.

    After all this, she took her barge with the two foresaid lords, three of the queen’s gentlewomen, and three of her own, her gentleman-usher, and two of her grooms, lying and hovering upon the water a certain space, for that they could not shoot the bridge, the bargemen being very unwilling to shoot the same so soon as they did, because of the danger thereof: for the stern of the boat struck upon the ground, the fall was so big, and the water was so shallow, that the boat being under the bridge, there staid again awhile. At landing she first stayed, and denied to land at those stairs where all traitors and offenders customably used[to land, neither well could she, unless she should go over her shoes. The lords were gone out of the boat before, and asked why she came not. One of the lords went back again to her, and brought word she would not come. Then said one of the lords, which shall be nameless, that she should not choose: and because it did then rain, he offered to her his cloak, which she, putting it back with her hand with a good dash, refused. So she coming out, having one foot upon the stair, said, “Here landeth as true a subject, being prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs; and before thee, O God! I speak it, having no other friends but thee alone.” To whom the same lord answered again, that if it were so, it was the better for her.

    At her landing there was a great multitude of their servants and warders standing in their order. “What needed all this?” said she. “It is the use,” said some, “so to be,when any prisoner comes thither.” “And if it be,” quoth she, “for my cause, I beseech you that they may be dismissed.”

    Whereat the poor men kneeled down, and with one voice desired God to preserve her grace; who the next day were released of their cold coats.

    After this, passing a little further, she sat down upon a cold stone, and there rested herself. To whom the lieutenant then being said, “Madam, you were best to come out of the rain; for you sit unwholesomely.” She then replying, answered again, “It is better sitting here, than in a worse place; for God knoweth, I know not whither you will bring me.” With that her gentleman-usher wept: she demanding of him what he meant so uncomfortably to use her, seeing she took him to be her comforter, and not *dismayor*; especially for that she knew her truth to be such, that no man should have cause to weep for her. But forth she went into the prison.

    The doors were locked and bolted upon her, which did not a little discomfort and dismay her grace: at what time she called to her gentlewoman for her book, desiring God not to suffer her to build her foundation upon the sands., but upon the’ rock, whereby all blasts of blustering weather should have no power against her. The doors being thus locked, and she close shut up, the lords had great con-ferenee how to keep ward and watch, every man declaring his own opinion in that behalf, agreeing straitly and circumspectly to keep her.

    Then one of them, which was the lord of Sussex, swearing said, “My lords, let us take heed, and do no more than our commission number of twenty horsemen. Among whom this lusty younker entering into talk, began to swear most horribly, blaspheming the name of God, with other ribaldry words besides. Unto whom one of the company (who is yet alive, and witness hereof), not able to abide the hearing of such blasphemous abomination, in gentle words speaking to him, said, he should give answer and account for every idle word.

    The gentleman, taking snuff thereat; “Why,” said he, “takest thou thought for me? take thought for thy winding sheet.” “Well,” quoth the other, “amend; for death giveth no warning; for as soon cometh a lamb’s skin to the market, as an old sheep’s.” “God’s wounds! “ saith he, “care not thou for me: “ raging still after this manner worse and worse in words, till at length, passing on their journey, they came riding over a great bridge, standing over a piece of an ann of the sea; upon the which bridge this gentleman-swearer spurred his horse in such sort, a355 as he sprang clean over with the man on his back, who, as he was going, cried saying, “Horse and man, and all to the devil.” This terrible story happening in a town in Cornwall, I would have been afraid amongst these stories here to recite, were it not that he which was then both reprehender of his swearing, and witness of his death, is yet alive, and now a minister, named Heynes.

    Besides this, bishop Ridley, then bishop of London, preached and uttered even the same fact and example at Paul’s Cross. The name of the gentleman I could by no means obtain of the party and witness aforesaid, for dread of those (as he said) which yet remain of his affinity and kindred in the said country.

    Having now sufficiently admonished, first the courtiers, then the gentlemen; now thirdly, for a brief admonition to the lawyers, we will here insert the strange end and death of one Henry Smith, student of the law.

    This Henry Smith, having a godly gentleman to his father, and an ancient protestant, dwelling in Campden in Gloucestershire, was by him virtuously brought up in the knowledge of God’s word, and sincere religion; wherein he showed himself in the beginning such an earnest professor, that he was called, of the papists, prattling Smith. After these good beginnings, it followed that he, coming to be a student of the law in the Middle Temple at London, there, through sinister company of some, and especially as it is thought of one Gifford, began to be perverted to popery; and afterward going to Louvain, was more deeply rooted and grounded in the same; and so continuing a certain space among the papists, of a young protestant, at length was made a perfect papist. Insomuch, that returning from thence, he brought with him pardons, a crucifix, with an Agnus Dei, which he used commonly to wear about his neck; and had in his chamber images, before which he was wont to pray, besides divers other popish trash, which he brought with him from Louvain. Now what end followed after this I were loth to utter in story, bat that the fact so lately done this present year, anno 1559, remaineth yet so fresh in memory, that almost all the city of London not only can witness, but also doth wonder thereat. The end was this.

    Not long after the said Henry Smith, with Gifford his companion, was returned from Louvain, being now a foul jeerer, and a scornful scoffer of that religion which before he professed; in his chamber where he lay in a house in St. Clement’s parish without Temple-bar, in the evening as he was going to bed, and his clothes put off (for he was found naked), he had tied his shirt (which he had torn to the same purpose) about his middle, and so with his own girdle, or riband-garter as it seemed, fastened to the bed-post, there strangled himself. They that were of his quest, and others which saw the manner of his hanging, and the print where he sat upon his bed’s side, do record, that he thrust himself down from the bed’s side where he sat; the place where he had fastened the girdle being so low, that his hips well near touched the floor, his legs lying across, and his arms spread abroad. And this was the manner of his hanging, having his Agnus Dei in a silver tablet, with his other idolatrous trash in the window by him.

    And thus being dead, and not thought worthy to be interred in the churchyard, he was buried in a lane called Foskew-lane.

    This heavy and dreadful end of Henry Smith, although it might seem enough to gender a terror to all young popish students of the law; yet it did not so work with all, but that some remained as obstinate still as they were before; amongst whom was one named Williams, a student of the Inner Temple, who being some time a favorer of the gospel, fell in like manner from that to be an obstinate papist, and despiteful railer against true religion, and in conclusion, was so hot in his catholic zeal, that in the midst of his railing he fell stark mad, and so yet to this present day remaineth. The Lord of his mercy turn him to a better mind, and convert him if it be his pleasure; Amen.

    The miserable end of Twyford is here no less to be remembered, busy doer sometime, in king Henry’s days, by Bonner’s appointment, in setting up of stakes for the burning of poor martyrs; who, when he saw the stakes consume away so fast; “Yea,” said he, “will not these stakes hold? I will have a stake, I trow, that shall hold.” And so provided a big tree, and cutting off the top, set it in Smithfield. But thanks be to God, ere the tree was all consumed, God turned the state of religion, and he fell into a horrible disease, rotting alive above the ground before he died. Read more of him before. But because the story both of him, and of a number such other like, is to be found in sundry places of this history sufficiently before expressed, it shall be but a double labor again to recapitulate the same.

    THE STRANGE AND FEARFUL DEATH OF DOCTOR WILLIAMS.

    Ye have heard before of the condemnation and martyrdom of a certain boy called Thomas Drowry, condemned by Williams, chancellor of Gloucester, contrary to all right and counsel of the registrar then present, called Barker. A356 Now what punishment fell after, upon the said chancellor, followeth to be declared.

    When God, of his inestimable mercy having pity of us, and pardoning our sins, for his Son Christ Jesus’s sake, had now taken from us that bloody princess, and sent us this jewel of joy, the queen’s majesty that now reigneth (and long may she reign) over us; and that the commissioners for restitution of religion were coming toward Gloucester; the same day Dr.

    Williams, a357 the chancellor, dined with master Jennings the dean of Gloucester, who with all his men were booted ready at one of the clock to set forward to Chipping-Norton, about fifteen miles from Gloucester, to meet the commissioners which were at Chipping-Norton, and said to him, “Chancellor, are not thy boots on? “ Chancellor: — “ Why should I put them on? “ “To go with me,’ quoth the dean,” to meet these commissioners.” Chancellor: — “ I will neither meet them, nor see them.” Dean: — “ Thou must needs see them, for now it is past twelve of the clock, and they will be here afore three of the clock: and therefore, if thou be wise, on with thy boots, let us go together, and all shall be well.” Chancellor: — “ Go your ways, master dean, I will never see them.”

    As I said, W. Jennings, the dean, set forward with his company toward the commissioners; and by and by cometh one upon horseback to the dean, saying, “Master chancellor lieth at the mercy of God, and is speechless.”

    At that word, the dean with his company pricked forward to the commissioners, and told them the whole matter and communication between them two, as above. And they sent one of their men, with the best words they could devise, to comfort him with many promises. But, to be short; albeit the commissioners were now nearer Gloucester than the dean and his company thought, making very great haste, especially after they had received these news, yet Dr. Williams, though false of religion, yet true of his promise, kept his ungracious covenant with the dean: for he was dead ere they came to the city, and so never saw them indeed.

    Wherefore to pass over our own domestical examples of English persecutors plagued by God’s hand (wherewith this our present story doth abound), I will stretch my pen a little further, to adjoin withal a few like examples in foreign countries.

    FOREIGN EXAMPLES.

    Hofmeister, the great arch-papist, and chief master-pillar of the pope’s falling church, as he was in his journey a358 going toward the council of Ratisbon, to dispute against the defenders of Christ’s gospel, suddenly in his journey, rot far from Ulm, was prevented by the stroke of God’s hand; and there miserably died, with horrible roaring and crying out. f511 What a pernicious and pestilent doctrine is this of the papists, which leadeth men to seek their salvation by merits and works of the law, and not by faith only in Christ the Son of God, and so to stay themselves by grace! And what inconvenience this doctrine of doubting and desperation bringeth men to at length, if the plain word of God will not sufficiently admonish us, yet let us be warned by examples of such as have been either teachers or followers of this doctrine, and consider well what end commonly it hath and doth bring men unto. To recite all that may be said in this behalf, it were infinite. To note a few examples for admonition’s sake, it shall be requisite.

    In the university of Louvain was one named Guarlacus, a learned man, brought up in that school, who at length was reader of divinity to the monks of St. Gertrude’s order; where, after he had stoutly maintained the corrupt errors of such popish doctrine, at last falling sick, when he perceived no way with him but death, he fell into a miserable agony and perturbation of spirit, crying out of his sins, how wickedly he had lived, and that he was not able to abide the judgment of God; and so, casting out words of miserable desperation, said, his sins were greater than that he could be pardoned; and in that desperation wretchedly he ended his life.

    F512 Another like example we have of Arnoldus Bomelius, a young man of the said university of Louvain, well commended for his fresh flourishing wit and ripeness of learning, who, so long as he favored the cause of the gospel, and took part with the same against the enemies of the truth, he prospered and went well forward; but after that he drew to the company of Tyleman, master of the pope’s college in Louvain, and framed himself after the rule of his unsavory doctrine, that is, to stand in fear and doubt of his justification, and to work his salvation by merits and deeds of the law, he began more and more to grow in doubtful despair and discomfort of mind; as the nature of that doctrine is, utterly to pluck away a man’s mind from all certainty and true liberty of spirit, to a servile doubtfulness, full of discomfort and bondage of soul.

    Thus the young man, seduced and perverted through this blind doctrine of ignorance and dubitation, fell into a great agony of mind, wandering and wrestling in himself a long space, till at length, being overcome with despair, and not having in the popish doctrine wherewith to raise up his soul, he went out of the city on a time to walk, accompanied with three other students of the same university, his special familiars; who as they returned home again after their walk, Arnoldus for weariness, as it seemed, sat down by a spring side to rest him awhile. The others, supposing none other but that he for weariness there rested to refresh himself, went forward a little past him. In the mean time what doth Arnoldus, but suddenly taketh out his dagger, and struck himself into the body.

    His fellows, seeing him shrinking down, and the fountain to be all colored with the blood which issued out of the wound, came running to him to take him up; and so searching his body where the wound should be, at length found what he had done, and how he had stricken himself with his dagger into the breast. Whereupon they took him and brought him into a house next at hand, and there exhorted him, as well as they could to repent his fact; who then, by outward gesture, seemed to give some show of repentance. Notwithstanding, the said Arnoldus, espying one of his friends there busy about him to have a knife hanging at his girdle, violently plucked out the knife, and with main force stabbed himself to the heart. f514 By these Louvanian examples, as we have all to learn, no man to be sure of his life, but that he always needeth to crave and call unto the Lord to bless him with his truth and grace; so especially would I wish our English Louvanians, which now make forts in that university against the open truth of Christ’s gospel, to be wise in time, and not to spurn so against the prick, “Ne forte,” etc.

    Or if they think yet these examples not enough for sufficient admonition, let them join hereunto the remembrance also of James Latomus, a chief and principal captain of the same university of Louvain; who, after he had been at Brussels, and there, thinking to do a great act against Luther and his fellows, made an oration before the emperor so foolishly and ridiculously, that he was laughed to scorn almost of the whole court: then, returning from thence to Louvain again, in his public lecture he fell in an open fury and madness, uttering such words of desperation and blasphemous impiety, that the other divines which were there, and namely Ruardus Anchu-sianus, were fain to carry him away, as he was raving, and so shut him into a close chamber. From that time unto his last breath, Latomus had never any thing else in his mouth, but that he was damned, and rejected of God, and that there was no hope of salvation for him, because that wittingly, and against his knowledge, he withstood the manifest truth of his word. f515 Thus Almighty God, not only by his word, but by examples in divers and sundry wise, doth warn us, first to seek to know the perfect will and decree of the Lord our God, appointed in his word. The perfect will and full testament of the Lord in his word, is this, that he hath sent and given his only Son unto us, being fully contented to accept our faith only upon him for our perfect justification and full satisfaction for all our transgressions; and this is called in Scripture, “justitia Dei.” To this will and righteousness of God, they that humble themselves, find such peace and rest in their souls, as no man is able to express, and have strength enough against all the invasions and temptations of Satan. Contrariwise, they that will not yield their obedience unto the will and ordinance of God expressed’ in his word, but will seek their own righteousness, which is of man, laboring by their merits and satisfaction to serve and please God; these not only do find with God no righteousness at all, but, instead of his favor, procure to themselves his horrible indignation; instead of comfort, heap to themselves desperation; and in the end what inconvenience they come to, by these above-recited examples of Guarlacus, Bomelius, and Latomus, it is evident to see. And out of this fountain spring not only the punishments of these men, but also all other inconveniences, which happen amongst men, wheresoever this pernicious and erroneous doctrine of the papists taketh place.

    A dominic friar of Munster, as he was inveighing in the pulpit against the doctrine of the gospel then springing up, was struck with a sudden flash of lightning, and so ended his life. F516 Manlius, in his book, “De dietis Philippi Melancthonis,” maketh mention of a certain tailor’s servant in Leipsie, who, receiving first the sacrament in both kinds with the gospellers, afterward, being persuaded by the papists, received with them under one kind. Whereupon, being admonished of his master to come to the communion again in the church of the gospellers, he stood a great while, and made no answer. At last, crying out upon a sudden, lie ran to the window thereby, and so cast himself out, and brake his neck.

    In the same Manlius mention is also made of a certain gentleman of name and authority, but he nameth him not, who hearing these words in a song, “Ein feste burg ist unser Gott,” that is, “Our only hold or fortress is our God,” (Psalm 46) answered and said, “Ich will helffen die burg zersehiessen; oder ich wil nit leben,” that is, “I will help to shoot against thy stay or fort; or else I will not live.” And so, within three days after, he died without repentance, or confessing his faith. F518 Of Sadolet, the learned cardinal, likewise, it is reported of some, that he died not without great torments of conscience and desperation. F519 The commendator of St. Anthony, who sat as spiritual judge over that godly learned man, Wolfgangus, burnt in Lorraine, in Germany, and gave sentence of his condemnation, fell suddenly dead shortly after. Read before. F520 Also his fellow, the abbot of Charilocus a359 , and suffragan to the bishop of Metz, at the crack of guns, suddenly fell down and died.

    David Beaton, archbishop of St. Andrew’s in Scotland, shortly after the condemning of master George Wisehart, how he by the just stroke of God was slain, and wretched ended his life within his own castle, in the discourse of his story is evident to see, whoso listeth further to read of that matter. F521 John Sleidan, in his 23d book, maketh relation of cardinal Crescentius, the chief president and moderator of the council of Trent, anno 1552. The story of whom is certain, the thing that happened to him was strange and notable, the example of him may be profitable to others, such as have grace to be warned by other men’s evils. The narration is this.

    The 25th day of March, in the year aforesaid, Crescentius, the pope’s legate and vicegerent in the council of Trent, was sitting all the day long until dark night, in writing letters to the pope. After his labor, when night was come, thinking to refresh himself, he began to rise; and at his rising, behold there appeared to him a mighty black dog, of a huge bigness, his eyes flaming with fire, and his ears hanging low down well near to the ground, to enter in, and straight to come toward him, and so to couch under the board. The cardinal, not a little amazed at the sight a360 thereof, somewhat recovering himself, called to his servants, who were in the outward chamber next by, to bring in a candle, and to seek for the dog. But when the dog could not be found, neither there, nor in any other chamber about, the cardinal, thereupon stricken with a sudden conceit of mind, immediately fell into such a sickness, whereof his physicians, which he had about him, with all their industry and cunning could not cure him. And so in the town of Verona died this popish cardinal, the pope’s holy legate, and president of this council; wherein his purpose was (as Sleidan saith), to recover and heal again the whole authority and doctrine of the Romish see, and to set it up for ever.

    There were in this council, besides the pope’s legates and cardinal of Trent, twenty-four bishops, doctors of divinity sixty-two. And thus was the end of that popish council, by the provident hand of the Almighty, dispatched and brought to nought. f522 This council of Trent, being then dissolved by the death of his cardinal, was afterward, notwithstanding, re-collected again about the year of our Lord 1562; against the erroneous proceedings of which council, other writers there be that say enough. So much as pertaineth only to story, I thought hereunto to add, concerning two filthy adulterous bishops to the said council belonging, of whom the one, haunting to an honest man’s wife, was slain by the just stroke of God, with a boar-spear. the other bishop, whose haunt was to creep through a window, in the same window was subtilely taken, and hanged in a gin laid for him of purpose; and so conveyed, that in the morning he was seen openly in the street hanging out of the window, to the wonderment of all that passed by. f523 Amongst all the religious orders of papists, who was a stouter defender of the pope’s side, or a more vehement impugner of Martin Luther, than John Eckius; a361 who, if his cause wherein he so travailed, had been godly, had deserved (no doubt) great favor and condign retribution at the hands of the Lord. Now, forsomuch as we cannot better judge of him than by his end, let us consider the manner of his departing hence, and compare the same with the end of master Luther.

    In the which master Luther, being such an adversary as he was to the pope, and having no less than all the world upon him at once, first this is to be noted; that after all these travails, the Lord gave him to depart both in great age, and in his own native country where he was born. Secondly, he blessed him with such a quiet death, without any violent hand of any adversary, that it was counted rather a sleep than a death. Thirdly, as the death of his body was mild, so his spirit and mind continued no less godly unto the end, continually invocating and calling upon the name of the Lord; and so commending his spirit to him with fervent prayer, he made a blessed and a heavenly ending. Fourthly, over and besides these blessings, Almighty God did also add unto him such an honorable burial, as to many great princes scarce happeneth the like. And this briefly concerning the end of Martin Luther, as ye may read before more at large.

    Now let us consider, and confer with this, the death of John Eckius, and the manner thereof, which we find in the English translation of the history of John Carion. a362 folio 250, in these words expressed. “This year,” saith he, “died at Ingoldstadt, Dr. Eckius, a faithful servant and champion of the pope, and a defender of the abominable papacy. But as his life was full of all ungodliness, uncleanness, and blasphemy; so was his end miserable, hard, and pitiful, insomuch that his last words (as it is noted of many credible persons) were these: ‘in case the four thousand guilders were ready, the matter were dispatched,’ etc. (dreaming belike of some cardinalship that he should have bought). Some say that the pope had granted him a certain deanery, which he should have redeemed from the court of Rome with the foresaid sum.” Now what a heavenly end this was of master Eckius, I leave it to the reader’s judgment.

    In the city of Antwerp was (as they term him there) a shoulted (that is to say, the next officer to the margrave), one named John Vander Warfe, bastard son of a stock or kindred called Warfe, of good estimation amongst the chiefest in Antwerp; who, as he was of nature cruel, so was he of judgment perverse and corrupt, and a sore persecutor of Christ’s flock, with greediness seeking and shedding innocent blood; and had drowned divers good men and women in the water, for the which he was much commended of the bloody generation. Of some he was called a bloodhound or bloody dog. Of other he was called shilpad, that is to say, shilpoad; for that he, being a short grundy, and of little stature, did ride commonly with a great broad hat, as a churl of the country. This man, after he was weary of his office (wherein he had continued above twenty years), he gave it over; and because he was now grown rich and wealthy, he intended to pass the residue of his life in pleasure and quietness. During which time, about the second year after he had left his office, he came to Antwerp, to the feast called our Lady’s Oumegang, a363 to make merry; which feast is usually kept on the Sunday following the Assumption of our Lady. The same day in the afternoon, about four of the clock, he being well laden with wine, rode homewards in his waggon, with his wife and a gentlewoman waiting on her and his fool. As soon as the waggon was come without the gate of the city, called Cronenberg-gate, upon the wooden bridge, being at that time made for a shift with rails or barriers on both sides for more surety of the passengers (half a man’s height and more), the horses stood still, and would by no means go forward, whatsoever the guider of the waggon could do.

    Then he, in a drunken rage, cried out to him that guided the waggon, saying, “Ride on, in a thousand devils’ names; ride on!” Whereat the poor man answered, that he could not make the horses to go forward. By and by, while they were vet thus talking, suddenly rose, as it were, a mighty * hurlwind, a364 * with a terrible noise (the weather being very fair, and no wind stirring before), and tossed the waggon over the bar into the town ditch, the ropes whereat the horses had been tied, being broken asunder in such sort, as if they had been cut with a sharp knife; the waggon also being cast upside down, with the fore end thereof turned toward the town again, and he drowned in the mire: and when he was taken up, it was found, that his neck also was broken. His wife was taken up alive, but died also within three days after. But the gentlewoman and the fool, by God’s mighty providence, were preserved and had no harm. the fool, hearing the people say his master was dead, said, “And was not I dead i was not I dead too? “ This was done, anno 1553. — Witness hereof not only the printer of the same story in Dutch, dwelling then in Antwerp, whose name was Francis Fraet, a good man, and afterward for hatred put to death of papists, but also divers Dutchmen here now in England, and a great number of English merchants, which then were at Antwerp, and are yet alive.

    Of the sudden death of Bartholomew Chassanus, or Chassanee, persecutor, read before. f526 Of Minerins the bloody persecutor, or rather tormentor of Christ’s saints, how he died with bleeding in his lower parts, ye heard before.

    And what should I speak of the judge which accompanied the said Minerins in his persecution, who a little after, as he returned homeward, was drowned; and three more of the same company killed one another, upon a strife that fell amongst them?

    Johannes de Roma, a cruel monk, whom we may rather call a hell-hound than persecutor, what hellish torments he had devised for the poor Christians of Angrogue, the contents of the story before doth express.

    Again, with what like torments afterward, and that double-fold, the Lord paid him home again, who, in his rotting and stinking death neither could find any enemy to kill him, nor any friend to bury him; who neither could abide his own stinking carrion, nor could any man else abide to come near him. Hereof read also before. f527 Such a like persecutor also the same time was the lord of Revest, who likewise escaped not the revenging hand of God’s justice, being stricken, after his furious persecution, with a like horrible sickness, and such a fury and madness, that none durst come near him, and so most wretchedly died: whereof read before.

    Touching the like grievous punishment of God upon one John Martin a persecutor, read before. f528 Erasmus, in an Epistle or Apology, written in defense of his Col-loquies, inferreth mention of a certain noble person of great riches and possessions, who, having wife and children, with a great family at home (to whom by St. Paul’s rule he was bound in conscience principally above all other worldly things to attend), had purposed before his death to go see Jerusalem. And thus all things being’ set in order, this nobleman, about to set forward on his journey, committed the care of his wife (whom he left great with child), and of his lordships and castles; to an archbishop, as to a most sure and trusty father. To make short, it happened in the journey this nobleman to die; whereof so soon as the archbishop had intelligence, instead of a father, he became a thief and a robber, seizing into his own hands all his lordships and possessions. And moreover, not yet contented with all this, he laid siege against a strong fort of his (unto the which his wife, for safeguard of herself, did flee), where in conclusion she, with the child that she went withal, was pitifully slain, and so miserably perished.

    Which story was done (as testifieth Erasmus) not so long before his time, but that there remained the nephews of the nobleman then alive, to whom the same inheritance should have fallen, but they could not obtain it.

    What cometh of blind superstition, when a man not containing himself within the compass of God’s word, wandereth in other bye-ways of his own, and not contented with the religion set up of the Lord, will bind his conscience to other ordinances, prescriptions, and religions devised by men, leaving God’s commandments undone for the constitutions and precepts of men, what end and reward (I say) cometh thereof at length, by this one example, beside infinite others of the like sort, men may learn by experience: and therefore they that yet will defend idolatrous pilgrimage and rash vows, let them well consider hereof. It is rightly said of St.

    Jerome, “To have been at Jerusalem is no great matter; but to live a godly and virtuous life, that is a great matter in very deed.” [Ad Paul. de Inst.

    Mon. Ep.13.] In the year of our Lord 1565, there was in the town of Ghent in Flanders, one William de Wever, accused and imprisoned by the provost of St.

    Peter’s in Ghent (who had in his cloister a prison and a place of execution); and the day when the said William was called to the place of judgment, the provost sent for master Giles Braekieman, principal advocate of the council of Flanders, and borough-master and judge of St. Peter’s in Ghent, with other of the rulers of the town of Ghent, to sit in judgment upon him, and as they sat in judgment, the boroughmaster, named master Giles Braekleman, reasoned with the said William de Wever upon divers articles of his faith. The one whereof was, why the said William de Wever denied that it was lawful to pray to saints: and he answered (as the report goeth) for three causes. The one was, that they were but creatures, and not the Creator. The second was, that if he should call upon them, the Lord did both see it, and hear it: and therefore he durst give the glory to none other, but to God. The third and chiefest cause was, that the Creator had commanded in his holy word to call upon him in troubles, unto which commandment he durst neither add nor take from it.

    The boroughmaster, master Giles Braekleman, also demanded, whether he did not believe that there was a purgatory which he should go into after this life, where every one should be purified and cleansed. He answered, that he had read over the whole Bible, and could find no such place, but the death of Christ was his purgatory: with many other questions proceeding after their order, until he came to pronounce his condemnation. But ere the said condemnation was read forth, the judgment of God was laid upon the said boroughmaster, who suddenly at that present instant was struck with a palsy, that his mouth was drawn up almost to his ear; and so he fell down, the rest of the lords by and by standing up and shadowing him, that the people could not well see him; and also the people were willed to depart, who, being still called upon to depart, answered, the place was so small to go out, that they could go no faster. Then the borough-master of the town, being taken up, was carried to his house, and it is not yet understood, nor commonly known, that ever he spoke word after he was first struck, but was openly known to be dead the next day following. And yet notwithstanding that this was done about ten of the clock, they burnt the said William de Wever within three hours after, on the same day.

    The 4th day of March, 1566, the like example of the Lord’s terrible judgment was showed upon sir Garret Triest, knight, who had: long before promised to the regent to bring down the preaching: for the which act (as the report goeth), the regent promised again to make him a ‘grave, which is an earl. Of the which sir Garret it is also said, that he, coming from Brussels towards Ghent, brought with him the death of the preachers; and being come to Ghent, the said sir Garret with other of the lords having received from the regent a commission to swear the lords and commons unto the Romish religion, the said sir Garret, the 4th day of March above noted, at night being at supper, willed the lady his wife to call him in the morning one hour sooner than he was accustomed to rise, for that he should the next day have much business to do in the town-house, to swear the lords and people to the Romish religion. But see what happened. The said sir Garret, going to bed in good health (as it seemed), when the lady his wife called him in the morning, according to his appointment, was found dead in the bed by her, and so unable to prosecute his wicked purpose.

    The 5th of March, 1556, which was the day that sir Garret Triest appointed to be there, and the lords of Ghent were come into the townhouse (as they had afore appointed), to proceed and to give the oath, according as they had their commission, and master Martin de Pester, the secretary, being appointed and about to give the oath, as the first man should have sworn, the said Martin de Pester was struck of God with present death likewise, and fell down, and was carried away in a chair or settle, and never spake after. Witnesses hereof: Peter de Bellemaker, Abraham Rossart, Maerke de Mil, Liven Hendriekx, Jahn Coucke, Rogeyr Van Hulle, Joys Neuehans, Lyavin Neuehans, William Vanden Boegarde, and Joys de Pytte.

    About the borders of Suabia in Germany, not far from the city of Uberlingen, there was a certain monastery of Cistercian monks called Salmesville, founded in the days of pope Innocent II., by a noble baron named Guntherame, about the year of our Lord 1110. This cell thus being erected, in process of time was enlarged with more ample possessions, finding many and great benefactors and endowers liberally contributing unto the same; as emperors, dukes, and rich barons. Amongst whom most especial were the earls of Montfort, who had bestowed upon that monastery many new liberties and great privileges, upon this condition, that they should receive with free hospitality any stranger, both horseman or footman, for one night’s lodging, whosoever came. But this hospitality did not long so continue, through a subtle and devilish device of one of the monks, who took upon him to counterfeit to play the part of the devil, rattling and raging in his chains, where the strangers should lie, after a terrible manner in the night-time, to fray away the guests; by reason whereof no stranger nor traveler durst there abide; and so continued this a long space.

    At length (as God would) it so happened, that one of the earls of the said house of Montfort, benefactors to that abbey, coming to the monastery, was there lodged, whether of set purpose, or by chance, it is not known.

    When the night came, and the earl was at his rest, the monk after his wonted manner beginneth his pageant, to play the tame, yea rather the wild devil. There was stamping, ramping, spitting of fire, roaring, thundering, bouncing of boards, and rattling of chains, enough to make some men stark mad. The earl, hearing the sudden noise, and being somewhat, peradventure, afraid at the first, although he had not then the feat of conjuring, yet taking a good heart unto him, and running to his sword, he laid about him well favorably, and following still the noise of the devil, so conjured him at last, that the monk which counterfeited the devil in jest, was slain, in his own likeness, in earnest. F531 After the imprisonment of the congregation, which were taken hearing God’s word in St. James’s-street in Paris, anno 1558 (as is above storied), was a letter written to the king, which was divulgate abroad, proving and declaring by divers histories, what afflictions and calamities from time to time, by God’s righteous judgment, have fallen upon such as have been enemies to his people, and have resisted the free passage of his holy word.

    In which letter, forasmuch as besides the said examples much other good fruitful matter is contained, worthy of all men to be read, and especially of princes to be considered, I thought good here to copy out the whole, as the French book doth give it; the translation of the which letter into English, is after this tenor, as followeth.

    A LETTER TRANSLATED OUT OF FRENCH INTO ENGLISH, WRITTEN TO KING HENRY THE SECOND, THE FRENCH KING.

    Consider, I pray you, sir, and you shall find that all your afflictions have come upon you, since you have set yourself against those which are called Lutherans. When you made the edict of Chateau- Briant, God sent you wars; but when you ceased the execution of your said edict, and as long as ye were enemy unto the pope, and going into Aimany for the defense of the Germans afflicted for religion, your affairs prospered as ye would wish or desire. On the contrary, what hath become upon you since you were joined with the pope again, having received a sword from him for his own safeguard, and who was it that caused you to break the truce? F532 God hath turned in a moment your prosperities into such afflictions, that they touch not only the state of your own person, but of your kingdom also. To what end became the enterprise of the duke of Guise in Italy, going about the service of the enemy of God, and purposing after his return to destroy the valleys of Piedmont, to offer or sacrifice them to God for his victories? The event hath well declared, that God can turn upside down our counsels and enterprises; as he overturned of late the enterprise of the constable of France at St. Quintin’s; having vowed to God, that at his return he would go and destroy Geneva, when he had gotten the victory. Have you not heard of L. Ponchet, archbishop of Tours, who made suit for the erection of a court called Chamber- Ardent, wherein to condemn the protestants to the fire? who afterwards was stricken with a disease, called the fire of God, which began at his feet, and so ascended upward, that one member after another had to be cut off, and so died miserably without any remedy. Also one Castellane, who having enriched himself by the gospel, and forsaking the pure doctrine thereof to return unto his vomit again, went about to persecute the Christians at Orleans, and by the hand of God was stricken in his body with a sickness unknown to the physicians, the one half of his body burning as hot as fire, and the other as cold as ice; and so most miserably crying and lamenting, ended his life.

    There be other infinite examples of God’s judgments worthy to be remembered; as the death of the chancellor and legate Du Prat, which was the first that opened to the parliament the knowledge of heresies, and gave out the first commissions to put the faithful to death, who afterwards died at his house at Natoillet, swearing and horribly blaspheming God, and his stomach was found pierced and gnawn asunder with worms. Also John Ruze, councillor in the parliament, coming from the court, after he had made report of the process against the poor innocents, was taken with a burning in the lower part of his belly, and, before he could be brought home to his house, the fever invaded all his inward parts; and so he died miserably, without any sign or token of the acknowledging of God.

    Also one named Claude des Asses, a councillor in the said court, the same day that he gave his opinion and consent to burn a faithful Christian (albeit it was not done in deed as he would have it), after he had dined, committed whoredom with a servant in the house, and even in doing the act he was stricken with a disease called apoplexy, whereof he died out of hand. Peter Liset, chief president of the said court, and one of the authors of the foresaid burning chamber, was deposed from his office, for being known to be out of his right wit, and bereaved of his understanding. Also John Morin, lieutenant-criminal of the provost of Paris, after he had been the cause of the death of many Christians, was finally stricken with a disease in his legs, called the wolves, whereby he lost the use of them, and died also out of his wits, many days before denying and blaspheming God. Likewise John Andrew, bookbinder of the palace, a spy for the president Liset and of Brussard the king’s solicitor, died in a fury and madness. The inquisitor John de Roma in Pro-renee, his flesh fell from him by piecemeal, so stinking that no man might come near him. Also John Mesnier of Provence, who was the cause of the death of a great number of men, women, and children, at Cabriers and at Me-rindol, died with bleeding in the lower parts, the fire having taken his belly, blaspheming and despising God: besides many others whereof we might make recital, which were punished with the like kind of death.

    It may please your majesty to remember yourself that ye had no sooner determined to set upon us, but new troubles were by and by moved by your enemies, with whom ye could come to no agreement; which God would not suffer, forasmuch as your peace was grounded upon the persecution which ye pretended against God’s servants: as also your cardinals cannot let through their cruelty the course of the gospel, which hath taken such root in your realm, that if God should give you leave to destroy the professors thereof, you should be almost a king without subjects.

    Tertullian hath well said, that “the blood of martyrs is the seed of the gospel.” Wherefore, to take away all these evils coming of the riches of the papists, which cause so much whoredom, sodomitry, and incest, wherein they wallow like hogs, feeding their idle bellies, the best way were to put them from their lands and possessions, as the old sacrificing Levites were, according to the express commandment which was given to Joshua: for as long as the ordinances of God took place, and that they were void of ambition, the purity of religion remained whole and perfect; but when they began to aspire to principalities, riches, and worldly honors, then began the abomination of desolation that Christ foretold.

    It was even so in the primitive church, for it flourished and continued in all pureness as long as the ministers were of small wealth, and sought not their particular profit, but the glory of God only. But since the pope began to be prince-like, and to usurp the dominion of the empire under the color of a false donation of Constantine, they have turned the Scriptures from their true sense, and have attributed the service to themselves, which we owe to God. Wherefore your majesty may seize with good right upon all the temporalties of the benefices, and that with a safe conscience, to employ them to their true and right use.

    First, for the finding and maintaining of the faithful ministers of the word of God, for such livings as shall be requisite for them, according as the case shall require. Secondly, for the entertainment of your justices that give judgment. Thirdly, for the relieving of the poor, and maintenance of colleges to instruct the poor youth in that which they shall be most apt unto. And the rest, which is infinite, may remain for entertainment of your own estate and affairs, to the great easement of your poor people, which alone bear the burden, and possess in manner nothing.

    In this doing, an infinite number of men, and even of your nobility, which live of the crucifix, should employ themselves to your service, and the commonwealths so much the more diligently, as they see that ye recompense none but those that have deserved; whereas now there is an infinite number of men in your kingdom, which occupy the chiefest and greatest benefices, which never deserved any part of them, etc. And thus much touching the superfluous possession of the pope’s lordly clergy. Now proceeding further in this exhortation to the king, thus the letter importeth.

    But when the papists see that they have not to allege for themselves any reason, they essay to make odious to your majesty the Lutherans (as they call us), and say: “If their sayings take place, ye shall be fain to remain a private person; and that there is never change of religion, but there is also change of princedom.” A thing as false as when they accuse us to be sacramentaries, and that we deny the authority of magistrates, under the shadow of certain furious Anabaptists, which Satan hath raised in our time, to darken the light of the gospel. For the histories of the emperors which have begun to receive the christian religion, and that which is come to pass in our time, show the contrary.

    Was there ever prince more feared and obeyed, than Constantine in receiving the christian religion? was he therefore put from the empire? No, he was thereby the more confirmed and established in the same, and also his posterity which ruled themselves by his providence. But such as have fallen away, and followed men’s traditions, God hath destroyed, and their race is no more known in earth: so much doth God detest them that forsake him.

    And in our time the late kings of England and Germany, were they constrained in reproving superstitions, which the wickedness of the time had brought in, to forsake their kingdoms and princedoms? All men see the contrary; and what honor, fidelity, and obedience the people in our time that have received the reformation of the gospel, do, under their princes and superiors. Yea, I may say, that the princes knew not before what it was to be obeyed, at that time when the rude and ignorant people received so readily the dispensations of the pope, to drive out their own kings and natural lords.

    The true and only remedy, sir, is, that ye cause to be holden a holy and free council, where ye should be chief, and not the pope and his, who ought but only to defend their causes by the holy Scriptures; that in the meanwhile ye may seek out men not corrupted, suspected, nor partial, whom ye may charge to give report faithfully unto you, of the true sense of holy Scriptures.

    And this done, after the example of the good kings, Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, and Josias, ye shall take out of the church all idolatry, superstition, and abuse, which is found directly contrary to the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament; and by that means ye shall guide your people in the true and pure service of God, not regarding in the mean time the cavilling pretences of the papists, which say that such questions have been already answered at general councils: for it is known well enough, that no council hath been lawful since the popes have usurped the principality and tyranny upon men’s souls; but they have made them serve to their covetousness, ambition, and cruelty; and the contrariety which is among those councils, maketh enough for their disproof, besides a hundred thousand other absurdities against the word of God, which be in them. The true proof for such matters, is in the true and holy Scriptures, to the which no times, nor age hath any prescription to be alleged against them; for by them we received the councils founded upon the word of God, and also by the same we reject that doctrine which is repugnant.

    And if ye do thus, sir, God will bless your enterprise; he will increase and confirm your reign and empire, and your posterity. If otherwise, destruction is at your gate, and unhappy are the people which shall dwell under your obedience. There is no doubt but God will harden your heart, as he did Pharaoh’s, and take off the crown from your bead, as he did to Jeroboam, Nadab, Baasha, Ahab; and to many other kings, which have followed men’s traditions, against the commandment of God; and give it to your enemies, to triumph over you and your children.

    And if the emperor Antoninus the meek, although he were a pagan and idolater, seeing himself bewrapt with so many wars, ceased the persecutions which were in his time against the Christians, and determined in the end to hear their causes and reasons, how much more ought you, that bear the name of the most christian king, to be careful and diligent to cease the persecutions against the poor Christians, seeing they have not troubled, nor do trouble in any wise, the state of your kingdom and your affairs; considering also that the Jews be suffered through all Christendom, although they be mortal enemies of our Lord Jesus Christ, which we hold by common accord and consent for our God, Redeemer, and Savior; and that until ye have heard lawfully: debated and understand our reasons, taken out of the holy Scriptures; and that your majesty have judged, if we be worthy of such punishments. For if we be not overcome by the word of God, neither the fires, the swords, nor the cruelest torments, shall make us afraid. These be exercises that God hath promised to his, the which he foretold should come in the last times, that they should not be troubled when such persecutions shall come upon them. [ ‘Translated out of the French book, a365 intituled ‘Commentaries of the State of the Church and Public Weal,’ etc. page 7.] THE STORY AND THE END OF THE FRENCH KING.

    Whosoever was the author or authors of this letter above prefixed, herein thou seest, good reader, good counsel given to the king. If he had had the grace to receive it, and had followed the same, no doubt but God’s blessing working with him, he had not only set that realm in a blessed state from much disturbance, but also had continued himself in all flourishing felicity of princely honor and dignity. For so doth the Lord commonly bless and advance such kings and princes as seek his honor, and submit their wills to his obedience. But commonly the fault of kings and potentates of this world is, that being set about with parasites, either they seldom hear the truth told them, or, if they do, yet will they not lightly be put from their own wills, disdaining to be admonished by their inferiors, be their counsel never so wholesome and godly; which thing many times turneth them to great plagues and calamities, as by plentiful examples of kings destroyed, wounded, imprisoned, deposed, drowned, poisoned, etc., may well, to them that read histories, appear. But especially this present example of Henry the French king, the second of that name, is in this our age notoriously to be considered; who, being well warned before (as may seem), would not yet surcease his cruel persecution against the Lord’s people, but rather was the more hardened in heart, and inflamed against them; insomuch that he said to Anne du Bourg, one of the high court of parliament in Paris, threatening him, that he would see him burn with his own eyes.

    Further, how his purpose was to extend his power and force likewise against other places more, in persecuting the gospel of Christ, and professors thereof, to the uttermost of his ability, I leave it to the report of them, which in this matter know more than I here will utter.

    But notwithstanding all these cracks and threatenings of the king (to see what the Lord can do in making high kings to stoop), even the same day when the king was in his most rage against these good men, Almighty God, taking the cause in hand to fight for his church, so turned the matter, that he made the great enemy of his, both with his mouth and with his hand to work his own destruction; with his mouth in commanding, with his hand in giving him the lance into his hand, which the same day gave him his death’s wound, as by the sequel hereof in reading, ye may understand.

    THE STROKE OF GOD’S HANDS UPON HENRY THE SECOND, THE FRENCH KING.

    King Henry being in the parliament house which was kept at the Friar Augustines at Paris, because the palace was in preparing against the marriage of his daughter and his sister, and having heard the opinion in religion of Anne du Bourg, counsellor in the law, a man eloquent and learned, he caused the said Anne du Bourg, and Loys du Faur, counselors, to be taken prisoners by the constable of France, who apprehended them, and delivered them into the hands of the count of Montgomery, the which carried them to prison. Against whom the king being wrathful and angry, among other talk, said to the said Anne du Bourg, “These eyes of mine shall see thee burnt.” And so, on the 19th of June, commission was given to the judges to make his process.

    During this meanwhile, great feasts and banquets were preparing in the court, for joy and gladness of the marriage that should be of the king’s daughter and sister, against the last day of June save one. So, when the day and time above prefixed were come, the Icing employed all the morning in examining as well the presidents as counselors of the said parliament against these prisoners, and other their companions that were charged with the same doctrine; which being done, they went to dinner.

    The king, after he had dined, for that he was one of the defendants at the tourney, which was solemnly made in St. Antony’s-street, near to the prison where the foresaid prisoners were committed, entered into the lists; and therein jousting, as the manner is, had broken many staves right valiantly as could be, running as well against the count of Montgomery, as others more. Whereupon he was highly commended of the lookers-on. And because he had done so valiantly, and was thought now to have done enough, he was desired to cease with praise. But he, being the more inflamed with the hearing of his praise, would needs run another course with Montgomery; who then, refusing to run against the king, and kneeling upon his knees for pardon not to run, the king being eagerly set, commanded him upon his allegiance to run, and (as some affirm) did also himself put the staff in his hand, unto whose hands he had committed the foresaid prisoners a little before. Montgomery, thus being enforced, whether he would or no, to run against the king, addressed himself after the best wise to obey the king’s commandment. Whereupon he and the king met together so stoutly, that in breaking their spears the king was stricken with the counter-blow, so right in one of his eyes, by reason that the visor of his helmet suddenly fell down at the same instant, that the shivers entered into his head’; so that the brains were perished, and thereupon so festered, that no remedy could be found, although physicians and surgeons were sent for from all places in the realm, as also from Brabant by king Philip; but nothing availed, so that the 11th day after, that is, the 10th of July, 1559, he ended his life in great dolor, having reigned twelve years, three months, and ten days.

    Some report, that among other words he said, that he feared he was stricken for casting the poor Christians wrongfully in prison: but the cardinal of Lorrain, standing by (as he was always at hand), said unto him, that it was the enemy that tempted him, and that he should be steadfast in the faith. By this means the hall, which was prepared for a place of joy and gladness, did now serve for a chapel to keep the corpse, being dressed with black mourning-cloth, and night and day there was nothing heard but mourning and lamenting for the space of forty days.

    About a year after this, which was the year of our Lord 1560, there were certain gentlemen put to death at Amboise, for taking arms against the house of Guise; touching which gentlemen this is to be noted, that as one of them should be brought to the place of execution, where the other lay dead before him, he thrust his hands into the blood of two of his companions which were there beheaded, and then, lifting them up to heaven, cried with a loud voice, “Lord! behold the blood of thy children: thou wilt in time and place revenge it.”

    Not long after the same, the chancellor Olivier, a366 who was condemner of them, at the instigation and pursuit of the cardinal of Lorrain, through great remorse of conscience fell sick, and in a frenzy casting out sighs incessantly, and afflicting himself after a fearful and strange fashion for his unrighteous sentence, and more than barbarous cruelty, shrieked upon a sudden with a horrible cry, and said, “O cardinal! thou wilt make us all to be damned.” And within a very few days after he died.

    Francis, the second of that name, king of France, at the persuasion of the cardinal of Lorrain, and of certain others, caused an assembly of the estates of the realm in the town of Orleans, among other things to maintain the papal see, to the overthrow of those which would live after the sincerity of the gospel: but being fallen sick, shortly after, in the foresaid place, of a fever, through an impostume in his left ear, he died the 5th of December, 1560, having reigned but one year And about five months.

    It was said of this king Francis (as the author above mentioned reporteth), that when he was drawing toward his end, the cardinal of Lorrain made him to say and pronounce these words which follow: “Lord! forgive me my trespasses, and impute not unto me the faults which my ministers have done, under my name and authority.”

    Neither is it unworthy of observation, that, after the father, it happened in much like sort (by God’s mighty judgment) unto Charles IX., his second son, and brother to Francis above mentioned, in these our latter days; who, after the horrible and bloody murder of the admiral, and other true professors of Christ’s gospel, both men, women, and children, to the number of many thousands of divers cities, insomuch that the prisons and streets are said to be coloured with blood, smoking after such a cruel sort, as in our time or country the like hath not hitherto been seen; by the stroke of God’s just revenge, the same king, by credible report of story, is said to die of bleeding, not only at his ears and nose, but in all other places of his body, where blood might have any issue.

    Unto these afore-recited histories of king Henry and his two sons, might also be added the death of the emperor Charles V., who, in like manner, being an enemy, and a great terror to the gospel, was, cut off likewise from doing any more hurt to the church, much about the same time, anno 1558; which was but three months before the death of queen Mary, and ten months before the death of the said Henry II. Touching the death of which Charles and Henry, and Francis, this epitaph following was written in Latin verses, and printed in the French story-book above alleged. A367 [fol. 100.] Consiliis Cilristum oppugnans et fraudibus ingens Regum ille terror Carolus, Ipsis ridiculus pueris, furiosus et excors, Totus repente eorruit.

    Tuque Henrice, malis dum consultoribus utens Sifs piorum sanguinem, Ipse tuo vetors, inopina ceede peremptus, Terram imbuisti sanguine.

    Henrici deineeps sectans vestigia patris Franciscus, infelix puer, Clamantem Christurn surd, dura negligit aure, Aure putrefaeft cormit.

    Versuti, fatui, surdi, hae spectacula, reges, Vos sapere vel mori jubent.

    Not long after Anne du Bourg’s death, the president Minard, who was a sore persecutor, and the condemner of the said Anne du Bourg, as he returned from the palace or council-chamber to his own house, being upon his mule, even hard by his house, was slain with a dag; a368 but who was the doer thereof, or for what cause he was slain, for all the inquisition and diligent search that could be made, it was never known.

    Among many other examples worthy robe noted, let us also consider the end of the king of Navarre, brother to the worthy prince of Conde, who, after he had sustained a certain time the cause of the gospel, at length being allured by the flattering word of the duke of Guise, and the cardinal of Lorrain a369 his brother, and upon hope to have his lands restored again, which the king of Spain retained from him, was contented to alter his religion, and to join side with the papists; and so, being in camp with the duke of Guise, at the siege of Rouen, was there shot with a pellet.

    After which wound received, being brought to a town three miles from the camp, called Preaux, he did vehemently repent and lament his backsliding from the gospel, promising to God most earnestly, that if he might escape that hurt, he would bring to pass that the gospel should be preached freely through all France: notwithstanding, within five or six days after he died.

    Neither did the duke of Guise himself, the great arch-enemy of God and his gospel, continue in life long after that, but both he and the whole triumvirate of France, that is, three the greatest captains of popery, were cut off from doing any more hurt, to wit, the duke of Guise before Orleans, the constable before Paris, the marshal of St. Andrew before Dreux.

    OF THE EMPEROR SIGISMUND.

    Amongst others, here is not to be past over nor forgotten, the notable example of God’s just scourge upon Sigismund the emperor, of whom mention is made before, in the condemnation of John Huss, and Jerome of Prague. After the death and wrongful condemnation of which blessed martyrs, nothing afterward went prosperously with the said emperor, but all contrary; so that he both died without issue, and in his wars he ever went to the worst. And not long after, Ladislaus, his daughter’s son, king of Hungary, fighting against the Turk, was slain in the field. So that in the time of one generation all the posterity and offspring of this emperor perished. Besides this, Barbara his wife came to such ruin by her wicked lewdness that she became a shame and slander to the name and state of all queens; whereby all christian princes and emperors may sufficiently be admonished, if they have grace, what it is to defile themselves with the blood of Christ’s blessed saints and martyrs.

    A NOTE OF CHRISTOPHER PARKER.

    Christopher Parker, called Parker the wild, mentioned before in this Book of Monuments, who, being a persecutor of Richard Woodman, did manacle his hands with a cord, did east himself into a pond, and so drowned himself at Herstmonceaux, in Sussex, the 8th September, 1575.

    THE STORY OF ONE DRAINER OF KENT, COMMONLY CALLED JUSTICE NINE-HOLES.

    I may not in this place omit the tragedy of one Drainer of Smarden in the county of Kent, esquire, who bearing grudge against one Gregory Dods, parson of the said town, for reproving his vicious life, sent for him by two men, which took him and brought him before him, where he was had into a parlour, as it were to breakfast; in which, behind the door, he had placed one Roger Matthew secretly, to bear witness what he should say, no more being in sight but the said Drainer and one of his men, who willed and persuaded him to speak freely his mind, for that there was not sufficient record of his words to hurt him. But the Lord kept his talk without peril, whereby the said Drainer sent him to the next justice, called master George Dorell; who, perceiving it to be done more of malice than otherwise, delivered him upon sureties, to appear at the next sessions at Canterbury, and at length he was banished the country.

    This said Drainer afterward, being chosen justice, to show himself diligent in seeking the trouble of his neighbors, made in the rood-loft nine holes, that he might look about the church in mass time. In which place alway, at the sacring thereof, he would stand to see who looked not, or held not up his hands thereto; which persons not so doing be would trouble and punish very sore. Whereby he purchased a name there, and is called to this day, justice Nine-holes, who now (God be thanked) is John-out-of-office, and glad of his neighbour’s good will.

    It so fell out, that since this was published, the said Drainer came to the printer’s house, with other associates, demanding, “Is Foxe ],ere? “ To whom answer was given, that master Foxe was not within. “Is the printer within? “ quoth Drainer. It was answered, Yea. Whereupon, being required to come up into his house, he was asked what his will was. “Marry,” saith he, “you have printed me false in your book.” “Why,” saith the printer, “is not your name master Drainer, otherwise called justice Nine-holes? “ “It is false,” saith he, “I made but five with a great augur, and the parson made the rest.” It was answered, “I have not read that a justice should make him a place in the rood-loft, to see if the people held up their hands.”

    He said, “Whereas you allege, that I did it to see who adored the sacrament, or who not, it is untrue; for I set as “Little by it, as the best of you all.” “Indeed,” saith the printer, “so we understand now; for you being at supper in Cheapside among certain honest company, and there burdened with the matter, said then, that you did it rather to look upon fair wenches, than otherwise.” He, being in a great rage, sware, saying to this purpose: “Can a man speak nothing but you must have understanding thereof? But,” saith he, “did I do any man any hurt?” It was answered, that he meant little good to master Dods aforesaid, especially procuring a secret witness behind his door, to catch some words that might tend to Dods’ destruction: which tiling Drainer sware, as before, was not true. To whom the printer replied, that it was most true, for that the party there secretly hidden, hath since upon his knees, asking forgiveness for his intent, confessed the same to Dods himself. “I will hang that knave,” saith he.

    And so he departed in a rage; and since is deceased, whose death and order thereof I refer to the secret Judge.

    A LAMENTABLE STORY OF JOHN WHITMAN, SHOEMAKER, WHO SUFFERED MOST CRUEL TORMENTS AT OSTEND IN FLANDERS, FOR THE TESTIMONY OF JESUS CHRIST, AND THE TRUTH OF HIS GOSPEL, ANNO 1572.

    John Whitman shoemaker, being about the age of forty-nine years, born in Tiehen, a town in Brabant, after his coming over into England, dwelt in Rye in the county of Sussex, being married twenty-three years: always a professor of the gospel, as well in the time of the freedom thereof, as in time of persecution. About Candlemas, in the year 1572, unknown to his friends in Rye, understanding of shipping in Rye, which was ready bound for Ostend in Flanders, he went aboard the Saturday morning, and arrived at Ostend that night, where he lodged with one of his kinsmen there dwelling. The next day being Sunday, in the morning he, accompanied with his said kinsman, took his journey as it were to have passed higher into the country.

    When they were about three miles on their way out of the town, suddenly Whitman staid and would go no further; but immediately returned back again to Ostend, whither so soon as he was come, it being service-time in their church, he forthwith addressed himself thither, and at the time of the heave-offering stept to the sacrificer, and took from over his head his idol, saying these words in the Dutch tongue: “Is this your god?” and so breaking it, cast it down under his feet, and trod thereon. Forthwith the people in an uproar came to lay hold on him, and hardly in the church escaped he death by the soldiers there present; but, being rescued by some, to the intent to be further examined and made a public spectacle, he was carried immediately to prison. Upon the next day, being Monday, the judges and other counselors being assembled, he was brought forth into the common-hall, and examined of his fact, the intent, the counsel and abettors thereof, and also of his faith: where he very constantly, in defense of his christian faith, and great detestation of idolatry, demeaned himself in such sort, that he wrung tears from the eyes of divers, both of the chief, and or, hers present. So was he committed again to prison.

    The next day being Tuesday, he was brought out again before the judges into the sane place. And being examined as before, he no whit abated, but increased in his constancy: whereupon sentence was given upon him to have his hand cut off, and his body scorched to death, and after to be hanged up. So the day following, being Wednesday, he was brought out of prison to the town-hall, standing in the market-place, all things belonging to execution being made ready there; which when they were all ready, the hangman went into the hall, and with a cord tied the hands of Whitman, and came out leading him thereby. So soon as Whitman was out of the house, he made such haste, and as it were, ran so to the place of execution, that he drew the hangman after him. There was a post set up with spars from the top thereof, aslope down to the ground, in manner of a tent, to the end that he should be only scorched to death, and not burned. When he was come to the place, the hangman commanded him to lay down his right hand upon a block, which he immediately with a hatchet smote off: the good man still continuing constant, the hangman stepped behind him, and bid him put out his tongue, which he forthwith did, as far as he could out of his mouth, through the which he thrust a long instrument like a packneedle, and so let it stick. Then the judges, standing by in the common-hall, read again his fact and sentence. Whereunto he could make no answer, his tongue hanging out of his head: so was he stripped out of his cassock, his hose being put off in prison, and put within his tent, and made fast with two chains; and fire was put round about, which broiled and scorched his body most miserably, all black, he not being seen, but heard to make a noise within the tent. When he was dead. he was carried out to be hanged upon a gibbet, beside the town. f538 ADMONITION TO THE READER, CONCERNING THE EXAMPLES ABOVE MENTIONED.

    It hath been a long persuasion, gendered in the heads of many men these many years, that to ground a man’s faith upon God’s word alone, and not upon the see and church of Rome, following all the ordinances and constitutions of the same, was damnable heresy, and to persecute such men to death, was high service done to God; whereupon have risen so great persecutions, slaughters and murders, with such effusion of christian blood through all parts of Christendom by the space of these seventy years, as hath not before been seen. And of these men Christ himself doth full well warn us long before, truly prophesying of such times to come, when they that slay his ministers, and servants should think themselves to do good service unto God (John 16). Now what wicked service, and how detestable before God this is, which they falsely persuade themselves to be godly, what more evident demonstrations can we require, than these so many, so manifest, and so terrible examples of God’s wrath pouring down from heaven upon these persecutors, whereof part we have already set forth; for to comprehend all (which in number are infinite), it is impossible.

    Wherefore, although there be many which will neither hear, see, nor understand, what is for their profit, yet let all moderate and well-disposed natures take warning in time. And if the plain word of God will not suffice them, nor the blood of so many martyrs will move them to embrace the truth, and forsake error, yet let the desperate deaths and horrible punishments of their own papists persuade them, how perilous is the end of this damnable doctrine of papistry. For if these papists, which make so much of their painted antiquity, do think their proceedings to be so catholic, and service so acceptable to God, let them join this withal, and tell us how come then their proceedings to be so accursed of God, and their end so miserably plagued, as by these examples above specified, is here notoriously to be seen? Again, if the doctrine of them be such heresy, whom they have hitherto persecuted for heretics unto death; how then is Almighty God become a maintainer of heretics, who hath revenged their blood so grievously upon their enemies and persecutors?

    The putting out of the French king’s eyes, which promised before with his eyes to see one of God’s true servants burnt, who seeth not with his eyes to be the stroke of God’s hand upon him? Then his son Francis after him, not regarding his father’s stripe, would yet needs proceed in burning the same man: and did not the same God, which put out his father’s eyes, give him such a blow on the ear, that it cost him his life?

    If the platform of Stephen Gardiner had been a thing so necessary for the church, and so grateful unto God, why then did it not prosper with him, nor he with it, but both he and his platform lay in the dust, and none left behind him to build upon it?

    After the time of Stephen Gardiner, and at the council of Trent, what conspiracies and policies were devised! what practices and trains were laid, through the secret confederacy of princes and prelates, for the utter subversion of the gospel and all gospellers, which if God had seen to have been for his glory, why then came they to none effect? yea, how or by whom were they disclosed and foreprised, but by the Lord himself, which would not have them come forward?

    The vehement zeal of queen Mary was like to have set up the pope here again in England for ever, if it had so much pleased the Lord God as it pleased herself; or if it had been so godly as it was bloody, no doubt but God’s blessing would have gone withal. But when was the realm of England more barren of all God’s blessings? what prince ever reigned here a shorter time, or less to his own heart’s ease, than did queen Mary?

    The constable of France, when he covenanted with God, that if he had the victory of St. Quentin’s, he would set upon Geneva, thought (no doubt) that he had made a great good bargain with God; much like unto Julian the emperor, who going against the Persians, made his vow, that if he sped well, he would offer the blood of Christians. But what did God? came not both their vows to like effect?

    The examples of such as revolted from the gospel to papistry be not many; but as few as they were, scarce can any be found which began to turn to the pope, but the Lord began to turn from them, and to leave them to their ghostly enemy; as we have heard of Francis Spira, a lawyer of Italy, of the king of Navarre in France, of Henry Smith, and Dr. Shaxton in England, with others in other countries, or whom some died in great sorrow of conscience, some in miserable doubt of their salvation, some stricken by God’s hand, some driven to hang or drown themselves.

    The stinking death of Stephen Gardiner, of John de Roma, of Twyford, of the bailiff of Crowland; the sudden death of Thornton, the suffragan of Dover, called Dick of Dover; of Dr. Dunning, of Dr. Jeffrey, of Beard the promoter; the miserable and wretched end of Poncher, archbishop of Tours, of cardinal Crescentius, Castellanus; a370 the desperate disease of Rockwood, of Latomus, of Guarlacus; the earthly ending of Henry Beaufort, cardinal of Winchester, of Eckius; the wilful and self-murder of Pavier, of Richard Long, of Bomelius, besides infinite others; the dreadful taking away and murrain of so many persecuting bishops, so many bloody promoters and malicious adversaries, in such a short time together with queen Mary, and that without any man’s hand, but only by the secret working of God’s just judgment.

    To these add also, the stinking death of Edmund Bonner, commonly named the bloody bishop of London; who, not many years ago, in the time and reign of queen Elizabeth, after he had long feasted and banqueted in durance at the Marshalsea, as he wretchedly died in his blind popery, so as stinkingly and blindly, at midnight, was he brought out and buried in the outside of all the city, amongst thieves and murderers, a place right convenient for such a murderer; with confusion and derision both of men and children, who, trampling upon his grave, well declared how he was hated both of God and man. What else be all these, I say, but plain visible arguments, testimonies, and demonstrations even from heaven, against the pope, his murdering religion, and his bloody doctrine? For who can deny their doings not to be good, whose end is so evil? If Christ bid us to know men by their fruits, and especially seeing by the end all things are to be tried, how can the profession,of that doctrine please God, which endeth so ungodly? Esaias, (Chap 1) prophe-sying of the end of God’s enemies, which would needs walk in the light of their own setting up, and not in the light of the Lord’s kindling, threateneth to them this final malediction, “In doloribus,” saith he, “dormietis,” i.e.” In sorrow shall ye sleep.”

    Let us now take a survey of all those persecutors, which of late have so troubled the earth (and almost have burned up the world with faggots and fire, for maintenance of the pope’s religion), and see what the end hath been of them that are now gone, and whither their religion hath brought them, but either to destruction, or desperation, or confusion and shame of life. So many great doctors and bishops have cried out of late so mightily against priests’ marriage; and have they not, by God’s just judgment, working their confusion, been detected themselves, and taken the most part of them in sinful adultery, and shameful fornication? Cardinal John de Crema, the pope’s legate here in England, after had set a law that priests should have no wives, was he not the next day after, being taken with his whores, driven out of London with confusion and shame enough, so that afterwards he durst not show his face here any more? besides the two bishops in the late council of Trent most shamefully taken in adultery, mentioned before. Also besides innumerable other like foreign stories, which I let pass, to come now to our own domestical examples, I could well name half a score at least of famous doctors, and some bishops, with their great masters of popery, who, in standing earnestly against the marriages of priests, have afterward been taken in such dishonest facts themselves, that not only they have carried the public shame of adulterous lecherers, but some of them the marks also of burning fornication with them in their bodies to their graves: whose names although I suffer here to be suppressed, yet the examples of them may suffice to admonish all men that be wise, and which will avoid the wrath of God’s terrible vengeance, to beware of popery.

    And thus, having hitherto recited so many shameful lives and desperate ends of so many popish persecutors stricken by God’s hand; now let us consider again, on the contrary side, the blessed ends given of Almighty God unto them, which have stood so manfully in the defiance of Christ’s gospel, and the reformation of his religion; and let the papists themselves here be judges. First, what a peaceable and heavenly end made the worthy servant and singular organ of God, Martin Luther! A371 To speak likewise of the famous John, duke of Saxony and prince elector, of the good palsgrave, of Philip Melanethon, of Pomerane, Urbane Regius, Berengarius, a372 of Ulricus Zuinglius, Oecolampadius, Pellicane, Capito, Munster, John Calvin, Peter Martyr, Martin Bucer, Paulus Phagius, John Musculus, Bibliander, Gesner, Holman, Augustine Marloratus; Lewis of Bourbon prince of Conde, a373 and his godly wife before him; with many more, which were known to be learned men, and chief standards of the gospel side against the pope; and yet no man able to bring forth any one example either of these, or of any other true gospeller, that either killed himself, or showed forth any signification or appearance of despair; but full of hope and constant in faith, and replenished with the fruit of righteousness in Christ Jesus, so yielded they their lives in quiet peace unto the Lord.

    From these foreigners, let us come now to the martyrs of England, and mark likewise the end both of them, and semblably of all others of the same profession. And first, to begin with the blessed and heavenly departure of king Edward the sixth, that first put down the mass in England, and also of the like godly end of his good uncle the duke of Somerset, which died before him, with an infinite number of other private persons besides, of the like religion, in whose final departing no such blemish is to be noted, like to the desperate examples of them above recited. Let us now enter the consideration of the blessed martyrs, who although they suffered in their bodies, yet rejoiced they in their spirits, and albeit they were persecuted of men, yet were they comforted of the Lord with such inward joy and peace of conscience, that some, writing to their friends, professed they were never so merry before in all their lives, some leaped for joy, some for triumph would put on their scarfs, some their wedding gar ment, going to the fire; others kissed the stake, some embraced the faggots, some clapt their hands, some sang psalms; universally they all forgave and prayed for their enemies; no murmuring, no repining was ever heard amongst them: so that most truly might be verified in them, which their persecutors were wont to sing in their hymns, a374 Caeduntur gladiis more bidentium, Non murmur resonat, nec querimonia:

    Sed corde tacito mens bene conscia Conservat patientiam, etc.

    Briefly, so great was their patience, or rather so great was God’s spirit in them, that some of them, in the flaming fire, moved no more than the stake whereunto they were tied. In fine, in them most aptly agreed the special tokens which most certainly follow the true children of God; that is, outward persecution, and inward comfort in the Holy Ghost. In the world (saith Christ our Savior), ye shall have affliction; but in me ye shall have peace, etc.

    And likewise the words of St. Paul be plain: “Whosoever” saith he, “studieth to live godly in Christ, shall suffer persecution.” (2 Timothy 3) But then, what followeth with this persecution? The said apostle again thus declareth, saying, “As the passions of Christ abound in us, so aboundeth also our consolation by Christ, (1 Corinthians 1) etc., according as by the examples of these godly martyrs right perfectly we may perceive. For as their bodies outwardly lacked no persecutions by the hands of the wicked, so amongst so many hundreds of them that stood and died in this religion, what one man can be brought forth, which either hath been found to have killed himself, or to have died otherwise than the true servant of God, in quiet peace, and much comfort of conscience?

    Which being so, what greater proof can we have to justify their cause and doctrine against the persecuting church of Rome, than to behold the ends of them both? first, of the Protestants, how quietly they took their death, and cheerfully rested in the Lord; and con- trariwise, to mark these persecutors, what a wretched end commonly they do all come unto.

    Experience whereof we have sufficient in the examples above declared, and also of late in Bonner, who albeit he died in his bed unrepentant, yet was it so provided by God, that as he.had been a persecutor of the light, and a child of darkness, so his carcase was tumbled into the earth in obscure darkness, at midnight, contrary to the order of all other Christians; and as he had been a murderer, so was he laid amongst thieves and murderers, a place by God’s judgment rightly appointed for him.

    And albeit some peradventure, that have been notable persecutors A in times past, do vet remain alive, who, being in the same cause as t the others were, have not yet felt the weight of God’s mighty hand, vet let not them think, that because the judgment of God hath lighted sooner upon others, therefore it will never light upon them; or because God of his merry hath granted them space to repent, let not them therefore of God’s lenity build to themselves an opinion of indemnity. The blood of Abel cried long, yet wrought at length. The souls of the saints slain under the altar, were not revenged at the first. (Revelation 6) But read forth the chapter, and see what followed in the end. Blood, especially of Christ’s servants, is a perilous matter, and crieth sore in the ears of God, and will not be stilled with the laws of men.

    Wherefore let such blood-guilty homicides beware, if not by counsel, at least by the examples of their fellows. And though princes and magistrates, under whose permission they are suffered, do spare their lives, let them not think therefore (as some of them shame not to say), that man hath no power to hurt them; and so think to escape unpunished, because they be not punished by man; but rather let them fear so much the more. For, oftentimes, such as have been persecutors and tormentors to God’s children, God thinketh them not worthy to suffer by man, but either reserveth them to his own judgment, or else maketh them to be their own persecutors, and their own hands most commonly hangmen to their own bodies.

    So Saul, after he had persecuted David, it was unneedful for David to pursue him again; for he was revenged of him, more than he desired. It was needless to cause Ahithophel to be hanged; for he himself was the stiffer or strangler of his own life.

    Neither for the apostles to pursue Judas that betrayed their Master; for he himself was his own hangman, and no man else, that-his body burst, and his guts burst out.

    Sennacherib, had he not for his persecutors his own sons, and it cost Hezekiah nothing to be revenged of him for his tyranny.

    Antiochus and Herod, although the children of God, whom they so cruelly persecuted, laid no hands upon them; yet they escaped not unpunished of God’s hand, who sent lice and worms to be their tormentors, which consumed and eat them up.

    Pilate, after he had crucified Christ our Savior, within few years after was he not driven to hang himself?

    Nero, after his cruel murders and persecutions stirred up against the Christians, when he should have been taken by the Romans, God thought him not so worthy to be punished by the hands of them, but so disposed the matter, that Nero himself, when he could find no friend nor enemy to kill him, made his own hands to be his own cut-throat.

    Dioclesian, with Maximian his fellow, emperors, which were the authors of the tenth and last persecution against the Christians, being in the midst of their furious tyranny against the name of Christ, needed no man’s help, to bridle them and pluck them back: for God, of his secret judgment, put such a snaffle in the mouths of these tyrants, that they themselves, of their own accord, deposed and dispossessed themselves of their imperial function, and lived as private persons all their lives after: and notwithstanding that Maximian, after that, sought to resume his imperial state again, yet by Maxentius his son he was resisted, and shortly after slain. F540 What should I here speak of the cruel emperor Maximinus? who, when he had set forth his proclamation engraven in brass, for the utter abolishing of Christ and his religion, was not punished by man, but had lice and vermin gushing out of his entrails, to be his tormentors; with such a rotten stench laid upon his body, that no physicians could abide to come near, and was caused to be slain for the same.

    Maxentius the son of Maximian, and Pharaoh king of Egypt, 2 as they were both like enemies against God and his people, so drank they both of one cup, not perishing by any man’s hand, but both in like manner, after, were drowned with their harness in the water. Furthermore and briefly in this matter to conclude, if the kings among the Jews, which were bloody and wicked, were not spared, as Ahaz, Ahab, Jezebel, Manasseh, Jehoiachim, Zedekiah, with many others, but had at length, although it were long, the hire of their iniquity: let not these bloody catholics then think, which have been persecutors of Christ’s saints, that they being in the same cause as the others above recited were, shall escape the same judgment, which the longer it is deferred, the sorer many times it striketh, unless by due repentance it be prevented in time; which I pray God it may.

    Innumerable examples more to the same effect and purpose might be inferred, whereof plentiful store we have in all places, and in all ages of men to be collected. But these hitherto for this present may suffice, which I thought here to notify unto these our bloody children of the murdering mother church of Rome, of whom it may well be said, “Your hands be full of blood, etc., to the intent that they, by the examples of their other fellows before mentioned, may be admonished to follow the prophet’s counsel, which followeth and biddeth, “Be you washed, and make yourselves clean,” etc.; and not to presume too far upon their own security, nor think themselves the further off from God’s hand, because man’s hand forbeareth them.

    I know and grant, that man hath no further power upon any, than God from above doth give. And what the laws of this realm could make against them, as against open murderers, I will not here discuss, nor open that I could say (because they shall not say that we desire their blood to be spilt, but rather to be spared): but yet this I say, and wish them well to understand, that the sparing of their lives, which have been murderers of so many, is not for want of power in magistrates, nor for lack of any just law against them, whereby they might justly have been condemned, if it had so pleased the magistrates to proceed (as they might) against them; but because Almighty God, peradventure, in his secret purpose, having something to do with these persecutors, hath spared them hitherto; not that they should escape unpunished, but that peradventure he will take his own cause into his own hand, either by death to take them away (as he did by Bonner, and by all promoters in a manner of queen Mary’s time), or else to make them to persecute themselves with their own hands; or will stir up their conscience to be their own confusion, in such sort as the church shall have no need to lay any hands upon them.

    Wherefore, with this short admonition to close up the matter, as I have exhibited in these histories the terrible ends of so many persecutors plagued by God’s hand; so would I wish all such whom God’s lenity suffereth yet to live, this wisely to ponder with themselves: that as their cruel persecution hurteth not the saints of God, whom they have put to death, so the patience of Christ’s church, suffering them to live, doth not profit them, but rather heapeth the greater judgment of God upon them in the day of wrath, unless they repent in time; which I pray God they may.

    A375 QUEEN ELIZABETH.

    And now to re-enter again to the time and story of queen Elizabeth, where we left before.

    In her advancement and this her princely governance, it cannot sufficiently be expressed, what felicity and blessed happiness this realm hath received in receiving her at the Lord’s almighty and gracious hand. For as there have been divers kings and rulers over this realm, and I have read of some, yet I could never find in English chronicle the like that may be written of this our noble and worthy queen, whose coming in was not only so calm, so joyful, and so peaceable, without shedding any blood, but also her reign hitherto (reigning now twenty-four years and more), hath been so quiet, that yet (the Lord have all the glory) to this present day, her sword is a virgin spotted and polluted with no drop of blood. In speaking whereof, I take not upon me the part here of the moral or of the divine philosopher, to judge of things done, but only keep me within the compass of an historiographer, declaring what hath been before, and comparing things done with things now present, the like whereof, as I said, is not to be found lightly in chronicles before. And this as I speak truly, so I would to be taken without flattery, to be left to our posterity, ad sempiternam clementice illius memoriam. In commendation of which her clemency, I might also here add how mildly her grace, after she was advanced to her kingdom, did forgive the foresaid sir Henry Benifield without molestation, suffering him to enjoy goods, life, lands, and liberty. But I let this pass.

    Thus hast thou, gentle reader, simply, but truly described unto thee the time, first of the sorrowful adversity of this our most sovereign queen that now is, also the miraculous protection of God, so graciously preserving her in so many straits and distresses, which I thought here briefly to notify, the rather for that the wondrous works of the Lord ought not to be suppressed, and that also her majesty, and we likewise, her poor subjects, having thereby a present matter always before our eyes, be admonished both how much we are bound to His divine majesty, and also to render thanks to Him condignly for the same. Now remaineth likewise, in prosecuting the order of this, as of other histories before, to notify and discourse of things memorable especially in the church, such as happened in the time of this her majesty’s quiet and joyful government. And first, here I let pass by the way the death of Cardinal Pole, which was the next day after the death of queen Mary; the death also of Christopherson bishop of Chichester, and Hopton bishop of Norwich; omitting also to speak of Dr. Weston, who, being chief disputer against Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer, as is before declared, first fell in displeasure with the cardinal and other bishops, because he was unwilling to part from his deanery and house of Westminster unto the monks, whom indeed he favored not, although in other things a maintainer of the church of Rome. Then, being removed from thence, he was made dean of Windsor, where he, being apprehended in advowtry, was by the same cardinal put from all his spiritual livings. Wherefore he appealed to Rome, and, flying out of the realm, was taken by the: way and clapped in the Tower of London, where he remained until this time that queen Elizabeth was proclaimed; at which time being delivered, he fell sick and died.

    Also I let pass the coronation of this our most noble and christian princess, and the order of the same, which was the 15th day of January, anno 1559. To pass over also the triumphant passage and honorable entertainment of the said our most dread sovereign, through the city of London, with such celebrity, prayers, wishes, welcomings, cries, tender words, pageants, interludes, declamations and verses set up, as the like hath not commonly been seen, arguing and declaring a wonderful earnest affection of loving hearts toward their sovereign. Item, To pretermit in silence the letters gratulatory, sent to her majesty from divers and sundry foreign places, as from Zurich, Geneva, Basil, Bern, Wittenburg, Strasburg, Frankfort, etc.: these, I say, with many other things to let pass, we will now (God willing) begin with the disceptation or conference between the popish bishops, and the learned men exiled in Germany, had at Westminster; after that first we have inserted a certain oration of a worthy gentleman, called master John Hales, sent and delivered to the said queen Elizabeth in the beginning of her reign, the copy whereof is this.

    AN ORATION OF JOHN HALES TO THE QUEEN’S MAJESTY; and delivered to her Majesty by a certain Nobleman, at her first Entrance to her Reign.

    TO THE NOBLE QUEEN ELIZABETH.

    Albeit there be innumerable gifts and benefits of Almighty God, whereof every one would wonderfully comfort any person, on whom it should please his goodness to bestow it; yet is none of them either separate by itself, or joined, with any other, or yet all mingled together, to be compared to this one: that it hath pleased God of his mercy to deliver this realm, our country, from the tyranny of malicious Mary, and to commit it to the government of virtuous Elizabeth. For if a man had all the treasure of Solomon, and might not be suffered to have the use thereof, in what better ease were he, than miserable Tantalus, over whose head the apples continually hung, yet, being hungerstarved, he could never touch them? If a man had as strong a body as had Samson, and besides, were as whole as a fish, as the proverb is, yet if he were kept in bands, what should it avail him? Yea, rather if it be well considered, it is a hurt to him, if continuance of torment and pains may be a hurt.

    If a man had as many children as had Gideon the judge, and might not be so suffered to bring them up in the fear of God, and good knowledge and manners, had he not been more happy to be without them, than to have them? If a man had as much knowledge of God as had St. Paul, and durst not profess it openly with mouth, as he is commanded, but for fear of death should declare the contrary in deed, slander the word of God, and deny Christ, which is forbidden, should it not rather be a furtherance to his damnation than otherwise?

    And to be short, if any one man had all these gifts together, or generally all the gifts of fortune, the body, the mind, and of grace, yet if he might not have the use of them, what should they profit him? Verily nothing at all. For felicity is not in having, but in using; not in possessing, but in occupying; not in knowledge, but in doing.

    But alas! our natural mother England, which hath been counted to be the surest, the richest, and. of late also the most godly nation of the earth, hath been these whole five years most violently by tyrants forced to lack the use of all the gifts and benefits wherewith God and nature hath indued her. Her natural and loving children could not be suffered to enjoy their right inheritante, whereby they might relieve and. succor her or themselves; but whatsoever they had, was, either by open force, or by crafty dealing, pulled from them. And surely this had been tolerable, if none other mischief had been therewith intended.

    He is a gentle thief (if thieves may be counted gentle), that only robbeth a man of his goods, and refraineth violent hands from his person: for such loss, with labor and diligence, may be recovered.

    He may be called a merciful murderer, that only killeth the aged parents, and useth no force on the children. For nature hath made all men mortal, and that in like space; and to kill the parents, is as it were but a prevention of a short time, if it were to the uttermost enjoyed. But these tyrants were more ungentle than common thieves, more empty of mercy than common murderers. For they were not only not contented to have the goods of the people, but they would have it delivered to them by the owner’s own hands, that it might be said to the world, they gave it with their heart; and were not therewith pleased, but they would have their lives, that they should not bewray them; and yet herewith they were not satisfied, but they meant to root out the whole progeny and nation of Englishmen, that none should be left to revenge and cry out on their extremities, and to bring our country into the Spaniards’ dominion.

    It is a horrible cruelty for one brother to kill another, much more horrible for the children to lay violent and murdering hands on their parents, but most horrible of all to murder the children in the sight of their parents, or the parents in the sight of their children, as these most cruel tormentors have done.

    But what do I stand in these things which have some defense, because the Turks perchance use so to do; and Ethnics kill one another, to make sacrifice of men to their fantastical gods?

    It was not enough for these unnatural English tormentors, tyrants, and false Christians, to be the lords of the goods, possessions, and bodies of their brethren and countrymen: but, being very antichrist, and enemies of Christ’s cross, they would be gods, and reign in the consciences and souls of men. Every man, woman, and child, must deny Christ in word openly, abhor Christ in their deeds, slander his gospel with word and deed, worship and honor false gods, as they would have them, and themselves did, and so give body and soul to the devil their master, or secretly flee; or, after inward torments, be burnt openly. O cruelty, cruelty! far exceeding all cruelties committed by those ancient and famous tyrants and cruel murderers, Pharaoh, Herod, Caligula, Nero, Domitian, Maximian, Dioclesian, Decius, whose names, for their cruel persecution of the people of God, and their open tyranny practiced on the people, have been, be, and ever shall be in perpetual hatred, and their souls in continual torment in hell. If any man would take upon him to set forth particularly all the acts that have been done these full five years, by this unnatural woman (no, no woman, but a monster, and the devil of hell covered with the shape of a woman), as it is most necessary for the glory of God, and the profit of his church, and this realm, it should be done: he shall find it a matter sufficient for a perfect great history, and not to be contained in an oration, to be uttered at one time by the voice of man. But to comprehend the sum of all their wickedness in few words: behold, whatsoever malice in mischief, covetousness in spoil, cruelty in punishing, tyranny in destruction could do, that all this poor English nation, this full five years, suffered already; or should have suffered, had not the great mercy of God prevented it.

    And albeit there have been many that have hazarded and lost their lives to shake off this most rough break (wherewith this viragin, rather than virgin, as she would be called and taken, boasted herself to be sent of God, to ride and tame the people of England); albeit there have been many that have gone about to loose their brethren out of the yoke of this most miserable captivity; and albeit some have proved to break the bands of this most cruel tyranny: yet could they never bring to pass that, which they so earnestly labored, and so manfully attempted.

    And it is nothing to be wondered, let the papists, boast thereof what. It pleaseth them. For Almighty God, being a most indifferent governor, punishing evil, and rewarding good, could not of his justice suffer his scourge so soon to be taken from this our land, if he meant the salvation of the people, as most manifestly it appeareth he did. For having once given to this realm the greatest jewel that might be, that is, the free use of his lively word (which if they had embraced and followed, it would have reformed all disorders and sins for which his wrath was kindled and provoked), the people nothing regarded it, but either utterly contemned it, or abused it; and many made it a cloak and color to cover their mischief. So that if he should suddenly have withdrawn this plague, as tyrants and evil governors be the plague of God, they would neither have passed on his justice, nor yet should they have felt the sweetness of his mercy. For commonly the people regard but things present, and neither remember things past, nor yet pass on things to come, unless they be warned by exceeding extremities.

    Besides this, it is most evident, that he had determined to make this noble conquest alone, with his own hand and mighty power; and would not that it should be done by man, lest man should impute any part of the glory of this victory to his ‘own strength, or to his own policy; or that fortune should seem to bear any stroke in so glorious a conquest, and so be partaker, in men’s opinions, of the triumph so worthy.

    Neither did his almighty power work this when man would have it dispatched, that is, as soon as the enemy began to gather their force; for it is not so great a victory to discomfit a few dispersed people, as it is to destroy a perfectly united army: but he suffered them to make their force as great as was possible, to work whatsoever mischiefs by spoil, banishment, prisonment, hanging, heading, burning, or otherwise could be imagined.

    Neither would his most provident wisdom do it out of season; but, as the good husbandman doth not crop his tree till he hath rendered his fruit, so would he not root out these pestilent tyrannies, till the most profit might be taken thereof.

    When he had given sufficient leisure to all kind of men to declare themselves; who were crocodiles, sometimes lying in water, sometimes on land, that is, both gospellers and papists; who were spunges, suspected whether they had life or not life, whether they were Christians or epicures; who were camelcons, that could turn themselves into all colors; with protestants, protestants; with papists, papists — with Spaniards, Spaniards; with Englishmen, Englishmen: who were gnathos, that could apply themselves to every man’s appetite that was in authority; who were marigolds, that followed Mary’s mad affections; who were weather-cocks, that did turn with every wind; who were mastiffs, that could bite, and bark not; who were curs, ever barking; who were foxes, that would promise much, and perform nothing; who could bind themselves with many oaths, and do clean contrary; who were Cains, that sought the innocent Abels’ deaths; who were the wolves, that worried the lambs. And finally, when he had suffered the spiritual shavelings to spew out their venom, and every man plainly to declare outwardly what he was inwardly; then doth he work this most victorious conquest. And with his works he seemeth plainly to say thus unto us: “Ye see, my people, what I have done for you, not for your sakes, which nothing regarded the benefits that I most plenteously poured on you, and have deserved most grievous punishment for your unthankfulness; but of mine infinite mercy, and for my glory’s sake, which I will have opened, to all the world in these latter days, to the fear of evildoers, and to the comfort of the welldoers. Provoke no more my wrath: ye see what will follow it. Be hereafter more prudent and wise than ye were before. Ye may, if ye will, be more circumspect in time to come, than ye have been in the time past: yea may, if ye list, put me to less trouble, and keep yourselves in more safety. I have not only discovered mine, yours, and my land of England’s enemies, and all the crafts, subtleties, and policies that have been, or may be used by them, or any like hereafter; but I have also taken away their head and captain, and destroyed a great number of them, that ye should not be troubled with them; and some of them have I left, that ye may make them spectacles and examples to the terror and fear of their posterity. Love me, and I will love you: seek my honor and glory, and I will work your commodity and safety: walk in my ways and commandments, and I will be with you for ever.”

    Surely, if we consider the wonderful mercy that it hath pleased God to use towards us, in the delivering of the realm and us his people, out of the hands of those most cruel tyrants, as we cannot but do, unless we will declare ourselves to be the most unthankful people that ever lived, we must needs judge it not only worthy to be compared to, but also far to exceed, the deliverance of the children of Israel out of Egypt from the tyranny of Pharaoh, and from the powers of Holofernes and Sennacherib: for it is not read, that either Pharaoh, or the other two, sought any other thing, than to be the lords of the goods and bodies of the Israelites: they forced them not to commit idolatry, and to serve false gods, as these English tyrants did.

    But besides, if we will note the wonderful works of God in handling this matter, we shall well perceive, that far much more is wrought to his glory, and to the profit of his church and people, than perchance all men at the first do see. For he hath not only dispatched the realm of the chief personages and head of these tyrants, but also as it were declareth, that he minded not that either they or their doings should continue. For, albeit that all acts done by tyrants tyrannously, be by all laws, reason, and equity, of no force, yet, because no disputation should follow on this — what is tyrannously done, and what is not tyrannously done, he hath provided that this question needeth not to come in question; for he utterly blinded their eyes, and suffered them to build on false grounds which can no longer stand, than they be propt up with rope, sword, and faggot. For her first parliament, whereon they grounded and wrought a great part of their tyranny, and wherein they meant to overthrow whatsoever king Edward had for the advancement of God’s glory brought to pass, was of no force or authority. For she, perceiving that her enemy’s stomach could not be emptied, nor her malice spewed on the people by any good order, she committeth a great disorder. She, by force and violence taketh from the commons their liberty, that, according to the ancient laws and customs of the realm, they could not have their free election of knights and burgesses for the parliament: for she well knew, that if either christian men, or true Englishmen, should be elected, it was not possible [for] that to succeed, which she intended. And therefore in many places divers were chosen by force of lier threats, meet to serve her malicious affections.

    Wherefore that parliament was no parliament, but may be justly called a conspiracy of tyrants and traitors. For the greater part, by whose authority and voices things proceeded in that court, by their acts most manifestly declared themselves so: the rest, being both Christians and true Englishmen, although they had good wills, yet were not able to resist or prevail against the multitude of voices and suffrages of so many evil, false to God, and enemies to their country.

    Also divers burgesses being orderly chosen, and lawfully returned, as in some places the people did what they could to resist her purposes, were disorderly and unlawfully put out, and others, without any order of law, in their places placed. Dr. Taylor, bishop of Lincoln, a christian bishop and a true Englishman, being lawfully and orderly called to the parliament, and placed in the Lords’ house in his degree, was in his robes by violence thrust out of the house.

    Alexander Nowell with two others, all three being burgesses for divers shires, and christian men and true Englishmen, and lawfully chosen, returned, and admitted, were by force put out of the house of the commons: for the which cause the said parliament is also void, as by a precedent of the parliament holden at Coventry, in the thirty-eighth year of king Henry the sixth, it most manifestly appeareth. And the third parliament, called in the name of her husband, and of her evil grace, wherein they would have undone that her noble father and the realm had brought to pass for the restitution of the liberty of the realm, and for extinguishment of the usurped authority of the bishop of Rome, is also void, and of none authority; for that the title and style of supreme head of the church of England, which by a statute made in the thirty-fifth year of the reign of the said king Henry, was ordained, that it should be united and annexed for ever to the imperial crown of. this realm, was omitted in the writs of summoning. Wherefore, as a woman can bring forth no child without a man, so cannot those writs bring forth good and sure fruit, because this part of the title, which was ordained by the parliament for the form to be always used in the king’s style, was left out. For greater error is in lack of form, than in lack of matter; and where the foundation is naught, there can nothing built thereon be good. There is no law spiritual nor temporal (as they term them), nor any good reason, but allows these rules for infallible principles. And if any man will say, that it was in the free choice, liberty, and pleasure. of the king of this realm, and the queen, whether they would express the said title in their style, or not, — as that subtle serpent Gardiner, being chancellor of the realm, and traitorously sending out the writs of parliament without the same style, perceiving he had over-shot himself in calling the parliament, and having committed many horrible murders and most mischievous acts, would have excused it, as appeareth by a piece of a statute made in the same parliament, in the eighth chapter and two and twentieth leaf, — it may be justly and truly answered, that they could not so do. For although every person may by law renounce his own private right, yet may he not renounce his right in that which toucheth the commonwealth, or a third person.

    And this title and style more touched the commonwealth and realm of England, than the king. For, as I said before, it was ordained for the conservation of the liberty of the whole realm, and to exclude the usurped authority of the bishop of Rome. And therefore no king nor queen alone could renounce such title: but it ought (if they would have it taken away) to be taken away orderly and formally by act of parliament, sufficiently called and summoned. For the natural and right way to loose and undo things, is to dissolve them by that means they were ordained. And so it most manifestly appeareth, that all their doings, from the beginning to the end, were and be of none effect, force, or authority: but all that they have done, hath been mere tyranny. O most marvellous providence of Almighty God, that always, and in all things, doth that is best for the wealth of his people! O most mighty power, that so suddenly overthroweth the counsels of the wicked, and bringeth their devices to nought! O infinite mercy, that so gently dealeth with his people, that he sayeth them whom he might most justly destroy! O most joyful, most merry, and never to be forgotten “Hope-Wednesday, in which it hath pleased thee, O God, to deliver thy church, a376 this realm, and thy people from so horrible tyranny! No tongue can express, no pen can indite, no eloquence can worthily set out, much less exornate these thy marvellous doings. No, no heart is able to render unto thy goodness sufficient thanks for the benefits we have received. Who could ever have hoped this most joyful time? Yea, who did not look rather for thy most sharp visitation, and utter destruction of this realm, as of Sodom, Gomorrah, and Jerusalem? But we see and feel, good Lord, that thy mercy is greater than all men’s sins, and far above all thy works.

    And albeit there is no Christian and natural Englishman, woman, or child, either present, or that shall succeed us, which is not or shall not be partaker of this most exceeding mercy and wonderful, benefit of Almighty God, and therefore is bound continually to praise and thank him: yet there is not one creature that is more bound so to do, than you, noble queen Elizabeth! For in this horrible tyranny, and most cruel persecution, your grace hath been more hunted for than any other. Divers times they have taken you; sometimes they have had you in stronghold, secluded from all liberty; sometimes at liberty, but not without most cruel gaolers’ custody; and many times they determined, that without justice ye should be murdered privily. They thought, if your grace had been suppressed, they should have fully prevailed: if ye had been destroyed, their doings for ever should be established: if ye had been taken out of the way, there were none left that would or could undo that they had ordained. But He that sitteth on high, and laugheth at their madness, would not suffer that the malicious purposes and most cruel devised injustice should have success. He took upon him the protection of you. He only hath been our Jehosheba, that preserved you from this wicked Athaliah: he only was the Jehoiada, that destroyed this cruel Athaliah: he only hath made you queen of this realm, instead of this mischievous Marana.

    No earthly creature can claim any piece of thanks there-for; no man’s force, no man’s counsel, no man’s aid, hath been the cause thereof. Wherefore, the greater his benefits have been toward you, the more are you bound to seek his glory, and to set forth his honor. Ye see his power, what he is able to do: he alone can save, and he can destroy; he can pull down, and he can set up. If ye fear him, and seek to do his will, then will he favor you, and preserve you to the end from all enemies, as he did king David. If ye now fall from him, or juggle with him, look for no more favor than Saul had showed to him. But I have a good hope, that both his justice and benefits be so printed in your heart, that ye will never forget them; but seek by all means to have the one, and to fear to fall into the other. I trust, also, your wisdom will not only consider the causes of this late most sharp visitation, but also to your uttermost power endeavor to out-root them.

    And forasmuch as besides this infinite mercy poured on your grace, it hath pleased his divine providence to constitute your highness to be our Deborah, to be the governess and head of the body of this realm, to have the charge and cure thereof, it is requisite above all things, as well for his glory and honor, as for your discharge, quietness, and safety, to labor that the same body now at the first be cleansed, made whole, and then kept in good order. For as, if the body of man be corrupted and diseased, he is not able to manage his things at home, much less to do any thing abroad; so, if the body of a realm be corrupt and out of order, it shall neither be able to do anything abroad, if necessity should require, nor yet prosper in itself. But this may not be done with piecing and patching, cobbling and botching, as was used in time past, whilst your most noble father and brother reigned. For as if a man cut off one head of the serpent Hydra, and destroy not the whole body, many will grow instead of that one; and as in a corrupt body that hath many diseases, if the physician should labor to heal one part, and not the whole, it will in short time break out afresh: so, unless the body of a realm or commonwealth be clean purged from corruption, all the particular laws and statutes that can be devised, shall not profit it.

    We need no foreign examples to prove it: look upon this realm itself, it will plainly declare it. And as it is not enough to cleanse the body from its corruption, but there must be also preservatives ministered to keep it from putrefaction; for naturally of itself it is disposed to putrefy; so, after the body of a realm is purged, unless there be godly ordinances for the preservation thereof ordained and duly ministered, it will return to the old state. For this body, which is the people, is universally, naturally, disposed to evil, and without compulsion will hardly do that is its duty.

    Thus must your grace do, if ye mind the advancement of God’s glory, your own quietness and safety, and the wealth of this your body politic. And they be not hard to bring to pass, where goodwill will vouchsafe to take to her a little pain. The realm will soon be purged, if vice and self-love be utterly condemned. It will be in good state preserved, if these three things — God’s word truly taught and preached, youth well brought up in godly and honest exercises, and justice rightly ministered, — may be perfectly constituted. And without this foundation, let men imagine what it pleaseth them, the spiritual house of God shall never be wellframed nor built, nor the public state of your realm well-ordered.

    For in what body God’s word lacketh, the unity and charity that ought to be among the members thereof, and which knitteth them together, is soon extinguished. Where the youth are neglected, there can no good success be hoped, no more than the husbandman can look for a good crop where he sowed no good seed. And where justice is not truly and rightly ministered, there the more laws and statutes be heaped together, the more they be contemned. And surely if this thing could not without exceeding charges be compassed, as God forbid that charges should be weighed, be they never so great, where God’s glory and the wealth of the realm may be furthered; yet ought it not to be neglected. What charges did king David the father, and king Solomon his son, employ to build the stony house of God! How much more charges should a Christian employ to build and set up the lively house of God t. But verily, I am fully persuaded that it shall, not be chargeable, to do this. No, a great deal of superfluous charges, which otherwise your grace shall be forced to sustain, shall be thus clean cut away, and so your revenues by a mean most profitable, and to no good person hurtful, increased.

    Wherefore, for God’s sake, noble queen, let not the opportunity, now by God offered, be by your grace omitted. A physician can in nothing so much declare his good will and cunning, nor purchase himself so great estimation, as when he findeth his patient throughly sick and weakened, and doth restore him to his perfect health and perfection. Likewise, if a prince should desire of God a thing whereby he might declare the zeal that he beareth to God, or whereby he might win fame and glory, he could desire nothing so much, as to come into a state corrupted, as this realm of England at this present is; not to destroy it, as did Caesar, but to make it,’ as did Romulus.

    If your grace can bring this to pass, as I am out of all doubtye may quickly, ye shall do more than any of your progenitors did before you. All men shall confess that you are not only for proximity of blood preferred, but rather of God specially sent and ordained. And as the queen of Sheba came from far off, to see the glory of king Solomon, a woman to a man, even so shall the princes of our time come, men to a woman, and kings marvel at the virtue of queen Elizabeth. Thus shall we your subjects be most bound to praise God, and to think ourselves most happy, that coming so suddenly from the worse, be forthwith preferred to the best, rid from extremest calamity, and brought to the greatest felicity; and it shall be besides an example for all evil princes, to leave their persecution of Christ and his members, to cease from their tyranny, wherewith they continually oppress their poor subjects. And so all people, not only we of this your realm, but of all other nations, shall have just cause to pray for your grace’s health, and increase of honor.

    This oration of master Hales being premised, now let us prosecute, the Lord willing, that which we promised, concerning the disputation or conference had at Westminster. The copy whereof here followeth.

    THE CONFERENCE a377 OR DISCEPTATION HAD AND BEGUN AT WESTMINSTER THE LAST OF MARCH, Upon Certain Questions Or Articles Of Religion Proposed, And Also Of The Breaking Up Of The Same, By The Papists’ Default, At The First Beginning Of Queen Elizabeth, A.D. 1559.

    So it pleased the queen’s most excellent majesty, having heard of the diversity of opinions in certain matters of religion amongst sundry of her loving subjects, and being very desirous to have the same reduced to some godly and christian concord (by the advice of the lords and others of the privy council,) as well for the satisfaction of persons doubtful, as also for the knowledge of the very truth in certain matters of difference, to have a convenient chosen number of the best learned of either part, and to confer together their opinions and reasons, and thereby to come to some good and charitable agreement. And hereupon by her majesty’s commandment, certain of her privy council declared this purpose to the archbishop of York (being also one of the same privy council), and required him that he would impart the same to some of the bishops, and to make choice of eight, nine, or ten of them, and that there should be the like number named of the other part. And further also they declared to him (as then was supposed), what the matter should be. And as for the time, it was thought meet to be, as soon as possibly might be agreed upon. And then, after certain days past, it was signified by the said archbishop, that there were appointed, by such of the bishops to whom he had imparted this matter, eight persons, that is to say, four bishops and four doctors: the names of whom here follow underwritten.

    THE PAPISTS. The bishop of Winchester.

    The bishop of Lichfield.

    The bishop of Chester.

    The bishop of Carlisle.

    The bishop of Lincoln.

    Dr. Cole.

    Dr. Harpsfield. Dr. Langdale.

    Dr. Chedsey .

    THE PROTESTANTS.

    Dr. Scory , bishop of Chichester.

    Dr. Coxe .

    Master Whitehead .

    Master Grindall .

    Master Horne .

    Master Dr. Sand . f545 Master Guest .

    Master AElmer. A378 Master Jewell .

    They were content, at the queen’s majesty’s commandment, to show their opinions; and, as the said archbishop termed it, render account of their faith in those matters which were mentioned, and ‘ that especially in writing; although he said, they thought the same so determined, as there was no cause to dispute upon them.

    The matter which they should talk upon, was comprehended in these three propositions, hereunder specified. 1. It is against the word of God, and the custom of the ancient church, to use a tongue unknown to the people, in common prayer, and the administration of the sacraments. 2. Every church hath authority to appoint, take away, and change ceremonies and ecclesiastical rites, so the same be to edification. 3. It cannot be proved by the word of God, that there is, in the mass, offered up a sacrifice propitiatory for the quick and the dead.

    It was hereupon fully resolved by the queen’s majesty, with the advice aforesaid, that according to their desire, it should be in writing on both parts, for avoiding of much altercation in words; and that the said bishops should, because they were in authority of degree superiors, first declare their minds and opinions to the matter, with their reasons in writing. And the other number, being also eight men of good degree in schools, and some having been in dignity in the church of England, if they had any thing to say to the contrary, should the same day declare their opinions in like manner; and so each of them should deliver their writings to the other, to be considered what were to be improved therein, and the same to declare again in writing at some other convenient day, and the like order to be kept in all the rest of the matters. All this was fully agreed upon with the archbishop of York, and so also signified to both parties.

    And immediately hereupon, divers of the nobility and states of the realm understanding that such a meeting and conference should be, and that in certain matters, whereupon (the court of parliament consequently following) some laws might be grounded; they made earnest means to her majesty, that the parties of this conference might put and read their assertions in the English tongue, and that in the presence of them of the nobility and others of her parliament house, for the better satisfaction and enabling of their own judgments, to treat and conclude of such laws as might depend hereupon.

    This also, being thought very reasonable, was signified to both parties, and so fully agreed upon, and the day appointed for the first meeting, to be the Friday in the forenoon, being the last of March, at Westminster church. At which foresaid day and place, both for good order and for honor of the conference , by the queen’s majesty’s commandment, the lords and others of the privy council were present, and a great part of the nobility also.

    And notwithstanding this former order appointed, and consented unto by both parties, yet the bishop of Winchester and his colleagues alleged they had mistaken that their assertions and reasons should be written, and so only recited out of the book, saying their book was not then ready written, but they were ready to argue and dispute, and therefore they would, for that time, repeat in speech, that which they had to say to the first probation. A379 This variation from the former order, and especially from that which themselves had by the said archbishop in writing before required, adding thereto the reason of the apostle, that to contend with words is profitable to nothing, but to subversion of the hearer, seemed to the queen’s majesty’s council somewhat strange; and yet was it permitted without any great reprehension, because they excused themselves with mistaking the order, and agreed that they would not fail but put it in writing, and, according to the former order, delivered a380 it to the other part; and so the said bishop of Winchester and his colleagues appointed Dr. Cole, dean of Paul’s, to be the utterer of their minds; who, partly by speech only, and partly by reading of authorities written, and at certain times being informed of his colleagues what to say, made a declaration of their meanings and their reasons to their first proposition: which being ended, they were asked by the lord-keeper, a381 if any of them had any more to be said, and they said, No. So, as the other part was licensed to show their minds, they did it according to the first order, exhibiting all that which they meant to be propounded, in a book written; which, after a prayer and invocation, made most humbly to Almighty God for the enduing of them with his Holy Spirit, and a protestation also to stand to the doctrine of the catholic church, builded upon the Scriptures, and the doctrine of the prophets and the apostles, was distinctly read by one Robert Horne, bachelor in divinity, late dean of Durham, and afterwards bishop of Winchester. A382 The copy of which their protestation here followeth, according as it was by them penned and exhibited, with their preface also before the same.

    COPY OF A PROTESTATION, EXHIBITED IN THE CONFERENCE.

    Forasmuch as it is thought good unto the queen’s most excellent majesty (unto whom in the Lord all obedience is due), that we should declare our judgment in writing upon certain propositions; we, as becometh us to do herein, most gladly obey.

    Seeing that Christ is our only master, whom the Father hath commanded us to hear; and seeing also his word is the truth, from the which it is not lawful for us to depart, no not one hair’s breadth, and against the which (as the apostle saith) we can do nothing; we do in all things submit ourselves unto this truth, and do protest, that we will affirm nothing against the same.

    And forasmuch as we have for our mother the true and catholic church of Christ, which is grounded upon the doctrine of the apostles and prophets, and is of Christ the head in all things governed; we do reverence her judgment, we obey her authority as becometh children; and we do devoutly profess, and in all points follow the faith which is contained in the three creeds, that is to say, of the apostles, of the council of Nice, and of Athanasius.

    And seeing that we never departed, neither from the doctrine of God which is contained in the holy canonical Scriptures, nor yet from the faith of the true and catholic church of Christ; but have preached truly the word of God, and have sincerely ministered the sacraments according to the institution of Christ, unto the which our doctrine and faith the most part also of our adversaries did subscribe not many years past (although now, as unnatural, they are revolted from the same), we desire that they render account of their backsliding, and show some cause wherefore they do not only resist that doctrine which they have before professed, but also persecute the same by all means they can. We do not doubt, but through the equity of the queen’s most excellent majesty, we shall in these disputations be entreated more gently than in years late past, when we were handled most unjustly and scantly after the common manner of men. As for the judgment of the whole controversy, we refer unto the most holy” Scriptures, and the catholic church of Christ (whose judgment unto us ought to be most sacred): notwithstanding by the catholic church we understand not the Romish church, whereunto our adversaries attribute such reverence, but that which St. Augustine and other fathers affirm, ought to be sought in the holy Scriptures, and, which is governed and led by the Spirit of Christ.

    It is against the word of God, and the custom of the primitive church, to use a tongue unknown to the people in common prayers and administration of the sacraments.

    By these words, “the word of God,” we mean only the written word of God, or canonical Scriptures: and by “the custom of the primitive church,” we mean the order most generally used in the church for the space of five hundred years after Christ, in which times lived the most notable fathers, as Justin, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Cyprian, Basil, Chrysostome, Jerome, Ambrose, Augustine, etc.

    This assertion above written hath two parts. First, that the use of the tongue not understood of the people, in common prayers of the church, or in the administration of the sacraments, is against God’s word.

    The second, that the same is against the use of the primitive church. 1. The first part is most manifestly proved by the 14th chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, almost throughout the whole chapter; in the which chapter St. Paul entreateth of this matter, ex professo, purposely. And although some do cavil that St. Paul speaketh not in that chapter of praying, but of preaching, yet is it most evident to any indifferent reader of understanding, and appeareth also by the exposition of the best writers, that he plainly there speaketh not only of preaching and prophesying, but also of prayer and thanksgiving, and generally of all other public actions, which require any speech in the church or congregation. For of praying he saith: “I will pray with my spirit, and I will pray with my mind, I will sing with my spirit, and I will sing with my mind.” And of thanksgiving (which is a kind of prayer), “Thou givest thanks well, but the other is not edified. And how shall he which occupieth the room of the unlearned say, Amen, to thy giving of thanks, when he understandeth not what thou sayest?”

    And in the end, descending from particulars to a general proposition, concludeth, that all things ought to be done to edification. Thus much is clear by the very words of St. Paul; and the ancient doctors, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and others, do so understand this chapter, as it shall appear by their testimonies which shall follow afterward.

    Upon this chapter of St. Paul we gather these reasons following. 1. All things done in the church or congregation, ought so to be done as they may edify the same.

    But the use of an unknown tongue, in public prayer or administration of sacraments, doth not edify the congregation.

    Therefore the use of an unknown tongue, in public prayer or administration of sacraments, is not to be had in the church.

    The first part of this reason is grounded upon St. Paul’s words, commanding all things to be done to edification.

    The second part is also proved by St. Paul’s plain words. First by this similitude: “If the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall be prepared to battle? Even so likewise, when ye speak with tongues, except ye speak words that have signification, how shall it be understood what is spoken? for ye shall but speak in the air, that is to say, in vain, and consequently without edifying.” And afterwards, in the same chapter he saith, How can he that occupieth the place of the unlearned, say Amen, at thy giving of thanks, seeing he understandeth not what thou sayest? for thou verily givest thanks well, but the other is not edified.” These be St.

    Paul’s words, plainly proving, that a tongue not understood, doth not edify. And therefore both the parts of the reason thus proved by St. Paul, the conclusion followeth necessarily. 2. Secondly, Nothing is to be spoken in the congregation in an unknown tongue, except it be interpreted to the people, that it may be understood. For saith Paul, If there be no interpreter to him that speaketh in an unknown tongue, let him hold his peace in the church.”

    F546 And therefore the common prayers and administration of sacraments, neither done in a known tongue, neither interpreted, are against the commandment of Paul, and not to be used. 3. The minister in prayer or administration of sacraments using language not understanded of the hearers, is to them barbarous, an alien; which of St. Paul is accounted a great absurdity. 4. It is not to be counted a christian common prayer, where the people present declare not their assent unto it by saying Amen; wherein is implied all other words of assent. f547 But St. Paul affirmeth, that the people cannot declare their assent in saying Amen, except they understand what is said, as afore.

    Therefore it is no christian common prayer where the people understand not what is said. 5. Paul would not suffer, in his time, a strange tongue to be heard in the common prayer in the church, notwithstanding that such a kind of speech was then a miracle, and a singular gift of the Holy Ghost, whereby infidels might be persuaded and brought to the faith; much less is it to be suffered now, amongst christian and faithful men; especially being no miracle nor especial gift of the Holy Ghost. 6. Some will peradventure answer, that to use any kind of tongue, in common prayer or administration of sacraments, is a thing indifferent.

    But St. Paul is to the contrary: for he commandeth all things to be done to edification; he commandeth to keep silence if there be no interpreter; and in the end of the chapter he concludeth thus: “If any man be spiritual or a prophet, let him know that the things which I write, are the commandments of the Lord.” And so shortly to conclude, the use of a strange tongue, in prayer and administration, is against the word and commandment of God.

    To these reasons, grounded upon St. Paul’s words, which are the most firm foundation of this assertion, divers other reasons may be joined, gathered out of the Scriptures, and otherwise. 1. In the Old Testament all things pertaining to the public prayer, benedictions, thanksgivings, or sacrifices, were always in their vulgar and natural tongue. In 2 Chronicles 29. it is written, that Hezekiah commanded the Levites to praise God with the Psalms of David and Asaph the prophet, which doubtless were written in Hebrew, their vulgar tongue. If they did so in the shadows of the law, much more ought we to do the like, who, as Christ saith, must pray “in spiritu et veritate.” 2. The final end of our prayer, as David saith, is, “Ut populi et conveniant in unum, et annuncient nomen Domini in Sion, et laudes ejus in Hierusalem.” Psalm 102.

    But the name and praises of God cannot be set forth to the people, unless it be done in such a tongue as they may understand: therefore common prayer must be had in the vulgar tongue. 3. The definition of public prayer out of the words of St. Paul, “Orabo spiritu, orabo et mente,” 1 Corinthians 14., “publice orare, est vota communia mente ad Deum effundere, et ea spiritu, hoc est, lingua testari.” Common prayer is to lift up our common desires to God with our minds, and to testify the same outwardly with our tongues; which definition is approved by St. Augustine a383 (De Magistro, cap. f548 , “Nihil opus est,” inquit, “locutione, nisi forte ut sacerdotes faciunt, siguificandae mentis causa ut populus intelligat.” 4. The ministration of the Lord’s Supper and Baptism are as it were sermons of the death and resurrection of Christ.

    But sermons to the people must be had in such language as the people may perceive; otherwise they should be had in vain. 5. It is not lawful for a christian man to abuse the gifts of God: but he that prayeth in the church in a strange tongue, abuseth the gifts of God.

    For the tongue serveth only to express the mind of the speaker to the hearer. And Augustine saith, “There is no cause why we should speak, if they for whose cause we speak, understand not our speaking.’ f549 6. The heathen and barbarous nations of all countries and sorts of men, were they never so wild, evermore made their prayers and sacrifices to their gods in their own mother tongue. Which is a manifest declaration that it is the very light and voice of nature.

    Thus much upon the ground of St. Paul and other reasons out of the Scriptures, joining therewith the common usage of all nations, as a testimony of the law of nature. 2. Now for the second part of the assertion, which is, that the use of a strange tongue in public prayer and administration of sacraments, is against the custom of the primitive church; it is a matter so clear, that the denial of it must needs proceed either of great ignorance or else of willful malice.

    For first of all Justin Martyr, describing the order of the communion in his time, saith thus: “Upon the Sunday, assemblies are made both of the citizens and countrymen, where the writings of the apostles and of the prophets are read, as much as may be.

    Afterwards, when the reader doth cease, the head minister maketh an exhortation, exhorting them to follow so honest things. After this we rise all together and offer prayers; which being ended (as we have said), bread and water are brought forth. Then the head minister offereth prayers and thanksgiving, as much as he can, and the people answer Amen. F550 These words of Justin, who lived about one hundred and sixty years after Christ, considered with their circumstance, declare plainly, that not only the Scriptures were read, but also that the prayers and administration of the Lord’s Supper, were done in a tongue understood.

    The liturgies both of Basil and Chrysostome declare , a384 that in the celebration of the communion, the people were appointed to answer to the prayer of the minister, sometimes “Amen;” sometimes, “Lord have mercy upon us;” sometimes, “And with thy Spirit,” and “We have our hearts lifted up unto the Lord,” etc.: which answers they could not have made in due time, if the prayer had not been made in a tongue understood.

    And for further proof, let us hear what Basil writeth in this matter to the clerks of Neocaesarea: “As touching that is laid to our charge in psalmodies and songs, wherewith our slanderers do fray the simple, I have thus to say: that our customs and usages accord and harmonize with those of all the churches of God . a385 For in the night the people with us riseth, goeth to the house of prayer, and in travail, tribulation, and continual tears, they confess themselves to God; and at the last, rising again, go to their songs or psalmody, where, being divided into two parts, they sing by course together, both deeply weighing and confirming the matter of the heavenly sayings, and also stirring up their attention and devotion of heart, which by other means be alienated and plucked away. Then appointing one to begin the song, the rest follow, and so with divers songs and prayers passing a386 the night, at the dawning of the day all together, even as it were with one mouth and one heart, they sing unto the Lord a song of confession, every man framing to himself meet words of repentance.” F551 If you will fly us from henceforth for these things, ye must fly also the Egyptians, and the Lybians; ye must eschew both the Thebans, Palestines, Arabians, the Phoenicians, and the Syrians, and those that dwell beside the Euphrates; and, to be short, all those with whom watchings, prayers, and common singing of psalms, are had in honor.

    TESTIMONIES OF ST. AMBROSE, WRITTEN UPON 1 CORINTHIANS 14, “SUPER ILLUD, QUI ENIM LOQUITUR LINGUIS.” “Hoc est quod dieit: quia qui loquitur incognita lingua,” etc. [i. e.] “This is it that he saith, ‘He which speaketh in an unknown tongue, speaketh to God:’ for he knoweth all things; but men know not, and therefore there is no profit of this thing.”

    The same author afterwards: “Si benedixeris spiritu.”

    Upon these words, “If thou bless or give thanks with the spirit, how shall he that occupieth the room of the unlearned, say, Amen, at thy giving of thanks, seeing he understandeth not what thou sayest?” “Hoc est, si laudem Dei lingua loquaris ignota,” etc. “That is,” saith Ambrose, “if thou speak the praise of God in a tongue unknown to the hearers. For the unlearned, hearing that which he understandeth not, knoweth not the end of the prayer, and he answereth not Amen, that is as much as to say, ‘ true,’ that the blessing or thanksgiving, may be confirmed. For the confirmation, of the prayer is fulfilled by them which do answer, Amen; 387 that all things spoken may be confirmed the minds of the hearers, through the testimony of the truth.”

    Afterward in the same place, upon these words, “If any infidel or unlearned come in,” etc. “Quum enim intelligit et intelligitur,” etc.: “for when he understandeth, and is understanded, hearing God to be praised, and Christ to be worshipped, he seeth perfectly that the religion is true, and to be reverenced, wherein he seeth nothing to be done colourably, nothing in darkness, as among the heathen, whose eyes are covered, lest they, seeing through the things which they call holy, should perceive themselves to be deluded with divers vanities. For all falsehood seeketh darkness, and showeth false things for true. Therefore with us nothing is done privily, nothing covertly, but one God is simpily praised, of whom are all things, and one Lord Jesus, by whom are all things. For if there be none which can understand, or of whom he [who is officiating] may be tried, be [the unbeliever] may say, there is some deceit and vanity, which is therefore sung in tongues not understanded; because it would be shameful to open it.”

    Upon this place, “Omnia ad aedificationem fiant.” “Conclusio haec est, ut nihil incassum in ecclesia geratur; hocque elaborandum magis, ut et imperiti proficiant, ne quid sit corpotis per imperitiam tenebrosum.” “Let all things be done to edify.” “This is the conclusion, that nothing should be done in the church in vain, and that this thing ought chiefly to be labored for, that the unlearned also might profit, lest any part of the body should be dark through ignorance.”

    Again, “Si non fuerit interpres, taceat in ecclesia.” “Hoc est, intra se tacite oret ant loquatur Deo, qui audit muta omnia. In ecclesia enim ille debet loqui qui omnibus prosit.” “If there be no interpreter, let him keep silence in the church.” “That is, let him pray secretly, or speak to God within himself, which heareth all dumb things: for in the church he ought to speak which may profit all men.”

    TESTIMONIES OUT OF ST. JEROME, UPON THAT PLACE OF PAUL, “QUOMODO, QUI SUPPLET LOCUM IDIOTOE,” ETC. “Per illum,” saith St. Jerome, “qui supplet locum idiotae, laictum intelligit, qui hullo gradu ecclesiastico fungitur.” “It is the layman, which hath no ecclesiastical office,” saith he, “whom Paul here understandeth to be in the place of the ignorant man. How shall he answer Amen, to the prayer that he understandeth not?”

    And a little before upon these words, “Nam si orem lingua,” etc. a388 “Hoc dicit, quoniam si quis incognitis aliis linguis loquatur, mens ejus non ipsi efficitur sine fructu, sed audienti. Quicquid enim dicitur, ignorat.” “This is Paul’s meaning,” saith Jerome: “If any man speaketh in tongues strange to others, his mind is not to himself without fruit and profit, but he is not profited that heareth him.”

    And in the end of his commentary upon the epistle to the Galatians, a389 he saith thus: “Quod autem ‘ Amen’ consensum significat audientis,” etc. “That ‘ Amen’ signifieth the consent of the hearer, and is the sealing up of the truth, Paul in the first epistle to the Corinthians teacheth, saying, ‘ But if thou shalt bless in spirit, how shall he who supplieth the place of the ignorant, at thy prayer answer “Amen,” seeing he knoweth not what thou sayest? ‘ Whereby he declareth that the unlearned man cannot answer, although that which is spoken is true, unless he understand what is said.”

    The same Jerome saith in the preface a390 of St. Paul’s epistle to the Galatians, that the noise of Amen soundeth in the Roman church, like a heavenly thunder.

    TESTIMONIES OUT OF BASIL, CHRYSOSTOME, DIONYSIUS, CYPRIAN, AUGUSTINE, AND JUSTINIAN.

    As Jerome compareth this sound of common prayer to thunder, so Basil compareth it to the sound of the sea, in these words: “If the sea be fair, how is not the assembly of the congregation much fairer? in the which a joined sound of men, women, and children, as it were of the waves beating on the shore, is sent forth in our prayers unto our God.” “Cum populus semel audivit, eijv tou, statim omnes respondent, Amen.” “When the people once hear these words, ‘World without end,’ they all forthwith answer, Amen.”

    And the same. writer upon the same chapter, upon these words, “How shall he that occupieth the room of the unlearned, say Amen? En mrsus amussi (quod dieitur) saxum applicat, ecelesiae aedificationem ubique requirens,” etc. “Behold again, he applieth the stone unto the square (as the proverb is), requiring the edifying of the congregation in all places.” F553 The unlearned he calleth the common people, and showeth that it is no small discommodity, if they cannot say, Amen.

    And again, the same Chrysostome, “Yea in prayers you may .see the people offer largely, both for the possessed and the penitents.

    For the priests and the people pray altogether commonly, and all one prayer, a prayer full of mercy and pity. And excluding out of the priests’ limits all such as cannot be partakers of the holy table, another prayer must be made, and all after one sort lie down upon the earth, and all again after one sort rise up together. Now when the peace is given, we all in like. manner salute one another, and the priest in the reverend mysteries wisheth well to the people, and the people unto him: for ‘et cum spiritu tuo,’ is nothing else but this.

    All things that belong to the sacrament of thanksgiving, are common to all. But he giveth not thanks alone, but all the people with him.” F554 Hereby it may appear, that not the priest alone communicated nor prayed alone, nor had any peculiar prayer, but such as was common to them all, such as they all understood, and all were able to say with the priest; which could not have been, if he had used a strange tongue in the ministration of the sacraments.

    Dionysius, describing the manner of the ministration of the Lord’s Supper, saith, “that hymns were said of the whole multitude of the people.”

    Cyprian saith, “The priest doth prepare the minds of the brethren, with a ‘preface before the prayer, saying, ‘Lift up your hearts:’ that while the people doth answer, ‘We have our hearts lifted up to the Lord,’ they may be admonished that they ought to think of none other thing than of the Lord.” F555 St. Augustine, “Quod hie sit, intelligere debemus,” etc. “What this should be we ought to understand, that we may sing with reason of man, not with chatting of birds. For ousels, and popinjays, and ravens, and pies, and other such like birds, are taught by men to prate they know not what. But to sing with understanding, is given by God’s holy will to the nature of man.” F556 The same Augustine: “There needeth no speech when we pray, saving perhaps as the priests do, to declare their meaning; not that God, but that men may hear them; and so, being put in remembrance by consenting with the priests, may hang upon God.”

    F557 To these testimonies of the ancient writers, we will join one constitution of Justinian a391 the emperor, who lived years after Christ, “Jubemus ut omnes piscopi pariter et presbyter, etc. et comma” at a bishops an priests do celebrate the holy oblation, and the prayers used in holy baptism, not speaking low, but with a clear and loud voice, which may he heard of the people, that thereby the minds of the hearers may be stirred up with greater devotion, in uttering the praises of the Lord God. For so the holy apostle teacheth in his first epistle to the Corinthians, saying, ‘ Truly, if thou only bless or give thanks in spirit, how doth he which occupieth the place of the unlearned say, Amen, at the giving of thanks unto God? for he understandeth not what thou sayest.

    Thou verily givest thanks well, but another is not edified.’ And again, in the epistle to the Romans he saith,’ Corde creditur ad justitiam, ore autem fit con-fessio ad salutem,’ ‘ with the heart a man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’

    Therefore for these causes it is convenient, that amongst other prayers those things also which are spoken in the holy oblation, be uttered and spoken of the most religious bishops and priests unto our Lord Jesus Christ, our God with the Father and the Holy Ghost, with a loud voice. And let the most religious priests know this, that if they neglect any of these things, neither will the dreadful judgment of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, neither will we, when we know it, rest, and leave it unrevenged.”

    Out of this constitution of Justinian the emperor, three things are worthy to be noted. 1. That the common prayer and ministration done with a loud voice, so as may be heard and understood of the people, is a mean to stir up devotion in the people; contrary to the common assertion of Eckius and other adversaries, who affirm that ignorance maketh a great admiration and devotion. 2. That Justinian maketh this matter of not ordering common ministration and prayers, so as it may be understood of the people, not a matter of indiffe-rency, but such a thing as must be answered for at the day of judgment. 3. That this emperor, being a christian emperor, doth not only make constitution of ecclesiastical matters, but also threateneth revenge and sharp punishment to the violators of the same.

    These are sufficient to prove that it is against God’s word, and the use of the primitive church, to use a language not understood of the people, in common prayer and ministration of the sacraments.

    Wherefore it is to be marveled at, not only how such an untruth and abuse crept at the first into the church, but also, how it is maintained so stiffly at this day; and upon what ground these that will be thought guides and pastors of Christ’s church, are so loth to return to the first original of St. Paul’s doctrine, and the practice of the primitive catholic church of Christ.

    The God of patience and consolation, give us grace to be like minded one towards another in Christ Jesus; that we all, agreeing together, may with one mouth praise God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen. John Scory. John Jewell.

    Richard Coxe. Robert Horne. David Whitehead. John AElmer.

    Edmund Grindall. Edmund Guest .

    And the same being ended with some likelihood, as it seemed, that the same was much allowable to the audience; certain of the bishops began to say, contrary to their former answer, that they had now much more to say to this matter: wherein although they might have been well reprehended for such manner of cavillation, yet, for avoiding of any more mistaking of orders in this colloquy or conference, and for that they should utter all that which they had to say, it was both ordered and thus openly agreed upon of both parts, in the full audience, that upon the Monday following, the bishops should bring their minds and reasons in writing to the second assertion, and the last also, if they could; and first read the same: and that done, the other part should bring likewise theirs to the same. And being read, each of them should deliver to other the same writings. And in the mean time, the bishops should put in writing, not only all that which Dr.

    Cole had that day uttered, but all such other matters as they any otherwise could think of for the dame: and as soon as they possibly could, a392 to send the same book touching that first assertion to the other part, and they should receive of them that writing which master Horne had there read that day; and upon Monday it shall be agreed a393 what day they should exhibit their answers touching the first proposition. Thus both parts assented thereto, and the assembly was quietly dismissed.

    THE ORDER OF THE SECOND DAY’S TALK. A394 The Lord Keeper of the great Seal, the Archbishop of York, the Duke of Norfolk, and all the Council being set, the Bishops on the one side, and the Protestants, that is, the late banished Preachers, on the other side, thus began the Lord Keeper. “My lord and masters, I am sure ye remember well, what order of talk and writing was appointed to be had this day in this assembly, at our last meeting, which I will not refuse now to repeat again for the shortness of it; which was, that ye appointed that on both sides ye should bring in English writing, what ye had to say in the second question, and in this place appointed to read the same.

    Therefore begin, my orders. Winchester: — “I am determined, for my part, that there shall be now read, that which we have to say for the first question.” Lord Keeper: — “ Will ye not then proceed in the order appointed you?” Winchester: — “ I am, as I said, provided for the first question or proposition; and we should suffer prejudice, if ye permit us not to entreat of that first; and so we would come to the second question, and this is the order we would use. I judge all my brethren are so minded.” Bishops: — “ We are so determined.” Lord Keeper: — “ I know not what you would do for your determined order, but ye ought to look what order is appointed you to keep, which ye by this means do break, and little regard.” Winchester: — “ Sith our adversaries’ part, if it please your grace and honors, have so confirmed their affection and purpose, we suffer a prejudice or damage, if ye permit us not the like.” Here at Dr. Watson, bishop of Lincoln, being at this talk very desirous to have spoken, said now to the bishop of Winchester, I pray you let me speak: which was permitted him. We are not used indifferently, since that you allow us not to open in present writing what we have to say for the declaration of the first question, insomuch as that which ye take for the infirmation of the same, was meant nothing to that purpose; for that which master Cole a395 spoke in this last assembly, was not prepared to strengthen our cause, but he made his oration of himself, and ex tempore, that is, with no fore-studied talk.”

    At such the bishop’s words, the nobility and others of the audience much frowned and grudged, sith that they all well knew, that master Cole spoke out of a writing which he held in his hand, and often read out of the same; and that in the same places which the bishops informed him, and appointed him unto with their fingers; all which things do well declare the matter to be premeditate, and not done ex tempore, for that master Cole was appointed by them to be their speaker. Whereupon this of the bishop of Lincoln was the worse taken: notwithstanding he went onward complaining, and said, “We are also evil-ordered as touching the time, our adversaries’ part having warning long before, and we were warned only two days before the last assembly in this place. What with this business, and other trouble we have been driven to, we have been occupied the whole last night. For we may in no wise betray the cause of God, nor will do, but sustain it to the uttermost of our powers; as we ought so to endeavor by all manner of means. But hereunto we want presently indifferent using.” Lord Keeper: — “Take ye heed that ye deceive not yourselves when it shall come to just trial of the matter, and that then it be not proved against you, that ye complain without cause, when the order and your manner towards it shall be duly weighed. I am willing and ready to hear you after the order taken and appointed for you to reason therein; and further or contrary to that I cannot deal with you.” The Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry: — Let us suffer no misorder or injury herein, but be heard with indifferency, that is to saye, convenient and meet we should have here.” Lord Keeper: — “ I pray you, sirs, hear me, and mark it you well. It was concluded on by my lords of the council, of whom you well know, that their writing, which ye are now so willing to have heard, should have been read the first day; and then did we understand that master Cole had said what you would have him, and as much as you willed him to say; and, upon that indiffereney among us, I judge ye were asked in the end of master Cole’s rehearsal, whether that which he spake, was it ye would have him say; and ye granted it. Then, whether ye would, that he should say any more in the matter: ye answered no, Whereupon the other part was heard, which you hearing, then indeed, without all good. indiffereney or plain dealing, ye pretended that ye had more to say.

    So mark you with how small equity you used yourselves.” The Bishops: — “ We had indeed more to say, if we might have been indifferently heard.” Lord Keeper: — “Give me leave, I say, and look what gains you should have, if your present request should be granted you, that call so much of indifferent using, how you should use those other men? For many who are here present, were then away; so would you have your writing now read to them, which heard not this.

    Mark ye whether it had not been more fit that ye had provided it against the first day, when they orderly read theirs, sith to my knowledge, and as far as I have had to do in the matter, you were of both sides (I am sure) warned at one time. Howbeit, to satisfy your importunacy and earnestness of this crying out to have your first writing heard, I might well allow, if it so pleased the rest of the queen’s most honorable council, that you dispatch the work of the second question, appointed for this day, and give us up your writing for the first; so that when the day cometh that each of you shall answer the other in confirmation of the first question, then the same day ye shall have time to read this your first writing, which ye now would so fain read.” To this order all the council willingly condescended. Lichfield and Coventry: — “ Nay, my lords, they reading one, and we two books in one day, we should not have time enough to read them both. It would occupy too much time.” Lord Keeper: — “ For my part, I might well stay at the hearing of them both, and so. I judge would the rest of the council, and likewise, the whole audience.” At which saying there was a shout, crying on all sides, “Yea, yea, we would hear it gladly.” Lincoln: — “ We cannot read them both at one time; for their writing, I am sure, would require an hour and a half, if so be it be so long as their last was; and then our answer would require no less time after the first question.” Lord Keeper: — “ I have showed you we could be well contented to tarry out the time when it cometh thereunto: therefore ye need not to be therein so curious. And we granting you thus much, and yet ye will obey no orders, I cannot tell what I shall say unto you.” Lincoln: — “ We have been wonderfully troubled in the order of this disputation: for first it was appointed us by my lord the archbishop, that we should dispute, and that in Latin. And then had we another commandment that we should provide a Latin writing, and now at last we are willed to bring forth our writings in English.”

    At these words the lord keeper of the great seal, the archbishop, with all the council, much mused, and many: murmured at such his wrong report of the order well taken. Whereupon, with an admiration, the lord keeper answered, “I marvel much of the using of yourself in this point, sith I am assured the order was never otherwise taken, than that you should bring forth in English writing, what you had to say for your purpose.”

    Hereupon the bishops of Lichfield and Chichester, to excuse my lord of Lincoln, said, “We so understood the order, my lords.” Lord Keeper: — “ How likely is that, sith that it was so plainly told you? But to end these delays, I pray you follow the order appointed, and begin to entreat of the second question.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ We were appointed this day, by your honors, to bring in what we had to say in the first question.”

    At the which saying the audience much grudged, who heard the former talk, contrary to such his report. Lord Keeper: — “ The order was taken, for that your writings were not ready the last time, that ye should yield the same to these men, meaning the Protestants, as soon as ye might, and upon the receipt of your writings, you should have theirs. And this day you should entreat of the second question, and of the third, if that ye had leisure enough.

    This was the order, my lords, except my memory much fail me.” The same all the council affirmed. Lincoln: — “ We were willed then to bring in this day our writing for the first question also.” Lord Keeper: — “Ah sirs! if ye be so hard to be satisfied, and to incline to the truth, let my lords here say what was then determined.” Archbishop of York: — “ Ye are to blame to stand in this issue, for there was a plain decreed order taken, for you to entreat of the second question. Wherefore leave you your contention herein, and show what ye have to say in the second question.” Lord Keeper: — “ Go to now, begin my lords.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ It is contrary to the order in disputations, that we should begin.” Chester: — “ We have the negative, they the affirmative; therefore they must begin.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ They must first speak what they can bring in against us, sith we are the defending part.” Chester: — “ So is the school manner; and likewise the manner in Westminster-hall is, that the plaintiff’s part should speak first, and then the accused party to answer.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ I pray you let the proposition he read, and then let us see who hath the negative part, and so let the other begin.” Lord Keeper: — “ The order was taken that ye should begin.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ But then we should do against the school order.” Lord Keeper: My masters, ye enforce much. the school orders. I wonder much at it, sith divers of those orders are oftentimes taken for the exercise of youth, and ought to maintain a fashion, and many prescriptions, which we need not here to recite, much less observe. We are come hither to keep the order of God, and to set forth his truth, and hereunto we have taken as good order as we might, which lieth not in me to change.” Carlisle: — “We are of the catholic church, and abide therein, and stand in the possessions of the truth; and therefore must they say what they have to allege against us; and so we to maintain and defend our cause.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ Yea, even so must the matter be ordered.” Chester: — “When they bring any thing against us, it is sufficient for us to deny it: therefore must they begin.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ And when they affirm any thing, and we say nay, the proof belongeth to them, and so it behoveth them to show first, what they affirm, and for what cause and purpose.” Lord Keeper: — “ Here resteth our purpose and whole matter, whether you will begin; if they do not, sith it was determined ye should begin.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “We heard of no such order.” Lord Keeper: — “No did? Yes, and in the first question ye began willingly. How cometh it to pass that ye will not now do so?” Chester: — “ Then had we the affirmation, which sith that our adversaries have now, they should presently begin.”

    This the Protestants denied, saying, that they in the first day had the negative, wherein they did not yet refuse to begin. Lord Keeper: — “If you have any thing to say, my lords, to the purpose, say on.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ A particular sort of men can never break a universal church, which we now maintain: and as for these men, our adversary part, I never thought that they would have done so much as have named themselves to be of the catholic church, challenging the name as well as we.” Protestants: — “ We do so, and we are of the true catholic church, and maintain the verity thereof.” Lincoln: — “ Yet would ye overthrow all catholic order.” Horne: — “I wonder that ye so much stand in who should begin.” Lincoln: — “You count it requisite that we should follow your orders, as we have taken the questions at your hands, in that sort as you have assigned them” Lichfield and Coventry: — “Yea, even so are we driven to do now.” Lord Keeper: — “ Nay, I judge if ye mark the matter well, the questions are neither of their propounding them to you, nor of your device to them, but offered indifferently to you both.” Horne: — “ Indeed, my lords of the queen’s most honorable council, these questions or propositions were proposed unto us by your honors; and they then having the pre-eminence, chose to themselves the negative, and yet freely began first. Now, again, why do they not the like? “ Lichfield being angry that he should so straitly speak against them, went quite from the matter, saying, “My lord keeper of the great seal, and you the rest of the queen’s most honorable council, I hope that you all, and the queen’s majesty herself, are inclined to favor the verity in all things, and the truth of the catholic church, which we must, will, or can do no otherwise, but earnestly maintain to the uttermost of our power; and to this purpose let us now well weigh who are of the true catholic church, they, or we.” Lord Keeper: — “ Tarry now, you go from the matter, and make questions of your own,” Lichfield, yet not staying from his digression, said thus: “We must needs go to work, and try that first, what church they be of: for there are many churches in Germany. Master Horne, master Horne, I pray you which of these churches are you of?” Horne : — “ I am of Christ’s catholic church.” Lord Keeper: — “ Ye ought not thus to run into voluntary talk of your own inventing, nor to devise new questions of your own appointment, and thereby enter into that talk: ye ought not so to do. But say on, if you have any thing to say in this matter.” Lichfield and Coventry: — “ Nay, we must first thus go to work with them as I have said, if that we will search a truth: howbeit of the truth we have no doubt, for that we assuredly stand in it. These men come in, and they pretend to be doubtful.

    Therefore they should first bring what they have to impugn or withstand us withal.” Winchester: — “ Let them begin; so will we go onward with our matter.” Chester: — “ Otherwise, my lords, if they should not begin, but end the talk, then should the verity on our sides be not so well marked; for they should depart speaking last, ‘ cum applausu populi,’ with the rejoicing triumph of the people.” Winchester: — “ Therefore I am resolved that they shall begin ere that we say any thing.” Chester: — “ I am sorry, my lords, that we should so long stand in the matter with your honors, and make so many words, and so much ado with you, whom we ought to obey: howbeit there is no indifferency if they begin not; and surely we think it meet, that they should, for their parts, give us place.” Lichfield: — “ Yea, that they should, and ought to do, where any indifferency is used.” AElmer: — “ We give you the place: do we not? and deprive you not of the pre-eminence, because you are bishops; therefore I pray you begin.” The Bishop: — “ A goodly giving of place, I assure you: yea marry, ye gave place: “ such words they used, with more scoffs. Lord Keeper: — “ If ye make this assembly gathered in vain, and will not go to the matter, let us rise and depart.” Winchester: — “ Contented, let us be gone; for we will not in this point give over. I pray you, my lords, require not at our hands that we should be any cause of hinderance or let to our religion, or give any such evil example to our posterity, which we should do, if we gave over to them; which in no wise we may, or will do.” Lord Keeper: — “ Let us then break up, if you be thus minded.”

    With these words the bishops were straightways rising. But then said the lord keeper, “Let us see whether every one of you be thus minded. How say you my lord of Winchester, will you not begin to read your writing? “ Winchester: — “No surely, I am fully determined, and fully at a point therein, howsoever my brethren do.”

    Then the lord keeper asked how the bishop was called, who sat next to Winchester in order. It was the bishop of Exeter, who, being inquired his mind herein, answered that he was none of them. Then the lord keeper asked the other, in order; and first Lincoln, who said he was of the same mind that Winchester was of: and likewise answered Lichfield and Coventry, Cole, and Chedsey. Then Chester, being asked his sentence, said, “My lords, I say not that I will not read it, if ye command us; but we ought not to do it: yet I desire your honors not so to take it, as though I would not have it read. I mean not so.” Lord Keeper: — “ How say you to it, my lord of Carlisle?” Carlisle: — “ If they should not read theirs this day, so that our writing may be last read, so am I contented that ours shall be first read.” Lord Keeper: — “So would ye make orders yourselves, and appoint that we should spend one day in hearing you.”

    Then the abbot of Westminster was asked his mind; who said, “If it please your honors, I judge that my lords here stay most on this point, that they fear when they shall begin first, and the other answer thereupon, there shall be no time given to them to speak; which my lord misliketh.” Lord Keeper: — “ How can it otherwise be in talk appointed in such assembly and audience: think you that there can be continual answering one another? when should it after that sort have an end?” Lichfield and Coventry: — “It must be so in disputation, to seek out the truth.” Lord Keeper: — “But how say you, my lord abbot, are you of the mind it shall be read?” Abbot: — “ Yea forsooth, my lord, I am very well pleased withal.” — Hapsfield being inquired his mind, thought as the other did. Lord Keeper: — “My lords, sith that ye are not willing, but refuse to read your writing after the order taken, we will break up and depart: and for that ye will not that we should hear you, you may perhaps shortly hear of us.”

    Thus have we declared the order and manner of this communication or conference at Westminster, between these two parties, wherein if any law or order were broken, judge, good reader, where the fault was; and consider withal what these papists be, from whom if ye take away their sword and authority, you see all their cunning, how soon it lieth in the dust; or else why would they not abide the trial of writing? Why would they, or durst they, not stand to the order agreed upon. Whether should we say ignorance or stubbornness to be in them more, or both together? who first being gently (as is said) and favorably required to keep the order appointed, they would not. Then being, secondly (as appeared by the lord keeper’s words), pressed more earnestly, they neither regarding the authority, etc. of that place, nor their own reputation, nor the credit of the cause, utterly refused that to do. And finally, being again particularly every of them apart distinctly by name required to understand their opinions therein, they all, saving one (which was the abbot of Westminster, having some more consideration of order and his duty of obedience than the others), utterly and plainly denied to have their book read, some of them, as more earnestly than others, so also some others more undiscreetly and unreverently than others. Whereupon giving such example of disorder, stubbornness, and self-will, as hath not been seen and suffered in such an honorable assembly, being of the two estates of this realm, the nobility and the commons, besides the presence of the queen’s majesty’s most honorable privy council, the same assembly was dismissed, and the godly and most christian purpose of the queen’s majesty made frustrate. And afterward, for the contempt so notoriously made, the bishops of Winchester and Lincoln, having most obstinately both disobeyed common authority, and varied manifestly from their own order, and specially Lincoln, who showed more folly than the other, were condignly committed to the Tower of London, and the rest (saving the abbot of Westminster) stood a396 bound to make daily their personal appearance before the council, and not to depart the city of London and Westminster, until further order were taken with them for their disobedience and contempt.

    Besides the former protestation or libel written and exhibited by the protestants concerning the first question, there was also another like writing of the the said protestants made of the second question, but not published, which, if it come to our hand, we will likewise impart it unto thee.

    As these bishops above named were committed to the Tower, so Bonner, bishop of London, about the same time was commanded to the Marshalsea, where he both in his blind bloody heresy, and also in his deserved captivity, long remained, abiding the queen’s pleasure. God’s pleasure, I beseech him, so be wrought on that person, that the church of Christ’s flock, if they can take or look for no goodness of that man to come, yet they may take of him and of others no more harm hereafter, than they have done already. We all beseech thee this, O Lord eternal, per Christum Dominum nostrum, Amen.

    About this time, at the beginning of the flourishing reign of queen Elizabeth, was a parliament summoned and holden at Westminster, wherein was much debating about matters touching religion, and great study on both parties employed, the one to retain still, the other to impugn, the doctrine and faction which before, in queen Mary’s time, had been established. But especially here is to be noted, that though there lacked no industry on the papists’ side, to hold fast that which they most cruelly from time to time had studied, and by all means practiced to come by; yet, notwithstanding, such was the providence of God at that time, that for lack of the other bishops, whom the Lord had taken away by death a little before, the residue that there were left, could do the less; and in very need, God be praised there-for, did nothing at all, in effect: although yet notwithstanding there lacked in them neither will nor labor to do what they could, if their cruel ability there might have served. But, namely, amongst all others, not only the industrious courage of Dr. Story, but also his words in this parliament, are worthy to be known of posterity; who, like a stout and furious champion of the pope’s side, to declare himself how lusty he was, and what he had and would do in his master’s quarrel, shamed not openly, in the said parliament-house, to brast out into such an impudent sort of words, as was a wonder to all good ears to hear, and no less worthy of history. The sum of which his shameless talk was uttered to this effect: — First, beginning with himself, he declared, that whereas he was noted commonly abroad, and much complained of, to have been a great doer, and a setter. forth of such religion, orders, and proceedings, as of his late sovereign that dead is, queen Mary, were set forth in this realm, he denied nothing the same; protesting moreover, that he therein had done nothing, but that both his conscience did lead him thereunto, and also his commission did as well then command him, as now also doth discharge him for the same, being no less ready now also to do the like, and more, in case he by this queen were authorized likewise, and commanded thereunto: "wherefore, as! see," saith he, "nothing to be ashamed of, so less I see to be sorry for; " but rather said, that he was sorry for this, because he had done no more than he did, and that in executing those laws, they had not been more vehement and severe.

    Wherein he said there was no default in him, but in them, whom he both oft and earnestly had exhorted to the same, being therefore not a little grieved with them, for that they labored only about the young and little sprigs and twigs, while they should have stricken at the root, and clean have rooted it out, etc. And concerning his persecuting and burning them, he denied not, but that he was once at the burn ing of an ear-wig (for so he termed it) at Uxbridg, f559 where he tossed a faggot at his face, as he was singing psalms, and set a wyn-bush of thorns under his feet, a little to prick him, with many other words of like effect. In the which words he named moreover sir Philip Hobby, and another knight of Kent, with such other of the richer and higher degree, whom his counsel was to pluck at, and bring them under coram, wherein (said he) if' they had followed my advice, then had they done well and wisely.

    This, or much like, was the effect of the shameless and tyrannical excuse of himself, more meet to speak with the voice of a beast, than a man.

    Although in this parliament some diversity there was of judgment and opinion between parties, yet, notwithstanding, through the merciful goodness of the Lord, the true cause of the gospel had the upper hand, the papists' hope was frustrate, and their rage abated, the order and proceedings of king Edward's time concerning religion were revived again, the supremacy of the pope abolished, the articles and bloody statutes of queen Mary repealed; briefly, the furious fire-brands of cruel persecution, which had consumed so many poor men's bodies, were now extinct and quenched.

    Finally, the old bishops were deposed, for that they refused the oath in renouncing the pope, and not subscribing to the queen's just and lawful title: in whose rooms and places, first for cardinal Pole succeeded Dr.Matthew Parker, archbishop of Canterbury. In the place of Heath f560 succeeded Dr. Young. Instead of Bonner, Edmund Grindall a397 was bishop of London. For Hopton, Thirlby, Tonstall, Pates, Christopherson, Petow, Cotes, Morgan, Voysey, White, Ogle thorpe, etc, were placed Dr. John Parkhurst in Norwich, Dr. Coxe in Ely, Jewell in Salisbury, Pilkinton in Durham, Dr. Sands in Wor cester, master Downham in West- Chester, Bentham in Coventry and Lichfield, Davies in St. David's, Alley in Exeter, Horne in Winches ter, Scory in Hereford, Best in Carlisle, Bullingham in Lincoln, Scambler in Peterborough, Barkley in Bath, Guest in Rochester, Bar low in Chichester, etc.

    THE APPENDIX OF SUCH NOTES AND MATTERS, AS EITHER HAVE BEEN IN THIS HISTORY OMITTED, OR NEWLY INSERTED.

    IN the story of sir Roger Acton above mentioned, I find that with him were taken many other persons, that all the prisons in and about London were replenished with people. The chief of them, which were twenty and nine, were condemned of heresy; and attainted of high treason, as movers of war against their king, by the temporal law in the Guildhall, the 12th day of December; and adjudged to be drawn and hanged for treason, and for heresy to be consumed with fire, gallows, and all: which judgment was executed in January following on the said sir Roger Acton, and twentyeight others.

    Some say that the occasion of their death was the conveyance of the lord Cobham out of prison. Others write, that it was both for treason (as the adversaries termed it), and heresy.

    Certain affirm, that it was for reigned causes surmised by the spiritualty, more of displeasure than truth, as seemeth more near to the truth.

    CONCERNING JOHN FRITH, OF HIS LIFE AND STORY THIS FOLLOWETH MORE TO BE ADDED First, this John Frith was born in the town of Westerham in Kent, who after, by diligent espials was taken in Essex, flying beyond the seas, and brought before the council, sir Thomas More then being Chancellor; and so from them committed unto the Tower, where he remained prisoner the space of a quarter of a year, or thereabout. It chanced that Dr. Currein, ordinary chaplain unto king Henry the eighth, preached a sermon in Lent before his majesty: and there, very sore inveighing against the sacramentaries (as they them termed and named), which favored not the gross opinion that Christ’s body was carnally real in the sacrament, he so far discoursed in that matter, that at the length he brake out thus far and said, “It is no marvel though this abominable heresy do much prevail amongst us; for there is one now, in the Tower of London, so bold as to write in the defense of that heresy, and yet no man goeth about his reformation: “ meaning John Frith, who then had answered sir Thomas More in writing against a confutation of that erroneous opinion, which of late, before, the said master More had written against John Frith’s assertion in that behalf. This sermon of purpose was devised and appointed by the bishop of Winchester and others, to seek the destruction of Frith, by putting the king in remembrance that the said Frith was in the Tower there staid, rather for his safeguard than for his punishment, by such as favored him; as the lord Cromwell, who, being vicegerent in causes ecclesiastical, came then into suspicion there-for: for in such sort was the matter handled before the king, that all men might well understand what they meant. The king then, being in no point resolved of the true and sincere understanding of the doctrine of that article, but rather a perverse stout adversary to the contrary, called to him my lord of Canterbury and my lord Cromwell, and willed them forthwith to call Frith unto examination, so that he might either be compelled to recant, or else by the law, to suffer condign punishment.

    Frith’s long protract in the Tower without examination, was so heinously taken of the king, that now my lord of Canterbury, with other bishops (as Stokesley then bishop of London, and other learned men), were undelayedly appointed to examine Frith. And for that there should be no concourse of citizens at the said examination, my lord of Canterbury removed to Croydon, unto whom resorted the rest of the commissioners.

    Now, before the day of execution appointed, my lord of Canterbury sent one of his gentlemen, and one of his porters, whose name was Perlebeane, a Welshman born, to fetch John Frith from the Tower unto Croydon. This gentleman had both my lord’s letters and the king’s ring unto my lord Fitzwilliam, constable of the Tower, then lying in Cannon-row at Westminster in extreme anguish and pain of the strangury, for the delivery of the prisoner. Master Fitzwilliam, more passionate than patient, understanding for what purpose my lord’s gentleman was come, banned and cursed Frith and all other heretics, saying, “Take this my ring unto the lieutenant of the Tower, and receive your man your heretic with you; and I am glad that I am rid of him.” When Frith was delivered unto my lord of Canterbury’s gentleman (they twain, with Perlebeane, sitting in a wherry, and rowing towards Lambeth), the said gentleman, much lamenting in his mind the infelicity of the said Frith, began in this wise:

    He exhorted him to consider in what estate he was, a man altogether cast away in the world, if he did not look wisely to himself. And yet, though his cause were never so dangerous, he might somewhat (in relenting to authority and so giving place for a time) help both himself out of the trouble, and when opportunity and occasion should serve, prefer his cause which he then went about to defend: declaring further, that he had many well-willers and friends, which would stand on his side so far forth as possibly they were able and durst do; adding hereunto, that it were great pity that he, being of such singular knowledge both in the Latin and Greek, and both ready and ripe in all kind of learning, and that namely as well in the Scriptures, as in the ancient doctors, should now suddenly suffer all those singular gifts to perish with him, with little commodity or profit to the world, and less comfort to his wife and children, and other his kinsfolk and friends. And as for the verity of your opinion in the sacrament of the body and blood of our Savior Christ, it is so untimely opened here among us in England, that you shall rather do harm than good: wherefore be wise, and be ruled by good counsel, until a better opportunity may serve.” “This I am sure of,” quoth the gentleman, “that my lord Cromwell, and my lord of Canterbury, much favoring you, and knowing you to be an eloquent learned young man, and now towards the felicity of your life, young in years, old in knowledge, and of great forwardness and likelihood to be a most profitable member of this realm, will never permit you to sustain any open shame, if you will somewhat be advised by their counsel. On the other side, if you stand stiff to your opinion, it is not possible to save your life: for like as you have good friends, so have you mortal foes and enemies.” “I most heartily thank you,” quoth master Frith unto the gentleman, “both for your good will and for your. counsel; by the which I well perceive that you mind well unto me. Howbeit my cause and conscience is such, that in no wise I either may or can, for any worldly respect, without danger of damnation, start aside and fly from the true knowledge and doctrine which I have conceived of the supper of the Lord, or the communion, otherwise called the sacrament of the altar: for if it be my chance to be demanded what I think in that behalf, I must needs say my knowledge and my conscience, as partly I have written therein already, though I should presently lose twenty lives, if I had so many. And this you shall well understand, that I am not unfurnished, either of Scriptures or ancient doctors, schoolmen, or others for my defense; so that if I may be indifferently heard, I am sure that mine adversaries cannot justly condemn me or mine assertion, but that they shall condemn with me both St. Augustine, and the most part of the old writers; yea, the very bishops of Rome of the oldest sort shall also say for me, and defend my cause.” “Yea marry,” quoth the gentleman, “you say well; if you might be indifferently heard. But I much doubt thereof, for that our Master Christ was not indifferently heard, nor should be, as I think, if he were now present again in the world; specially in this your opinion, the same being so odious unto the world, and we so far off from the true knowledge thereof.” “Well, well,” quoth Frith then unto the gentleman, “I know very well, that this doctrine of the sacrament of the altar, which I hold, and have opened contrary to the opinion of this realm, is very hard meat to be digested both of the clergy and laity. But this I will say to you,” taking the gentleman by the hand, “that if you live but twenty years more, whatsoever become of me, you shall see this whole realm of mine opinion concerning this sacrament of the altar; namely, the whole estate of the same, though some sort of men particularly shall not be fully persuaded therein. And if it come not so to pass, then account me the vainest man that ever you heard speak with tongue. Besides this, you say that my death would be sorrowful and uncomfortable to my friends. I grant,” quoth he, “that for a small time it would so be. But if I should so mollify, qualify, and temper my cause in such sort, as to deserve only to be kept in prison, that would not only he a much longer grief unto me, but also to my friends would breed no small disquietness both of body and mind. And therefore, all things well and rightly pondered, my death in this cause shall be better unto me and all mine, than life in continual bondage and penuries. And Almighty God knoweth what he hath to do with his poor servant, whose cause I now defend, and not mine own; from the which I assuredly do intend (God willing) never to start, or otherwise to give place, so long as God will give me life.”

    This communication, or like in effect, my lord of Canterbury’s gentleman and Frith had, coming in a wherry upon the Thames from the Tower to Lambeth.

    Now when they were landed, after some repast by them taken at Lambeth, the gentleman, the porter, and Frith, went forward towards Croydon on foot. This gentleman, still lamenting with himself the hard and cruel destiny towards the said Frith (namely, if he once came amongst the bishops); and now also perceiving the exceeding constancy of Frith, devised with himself some way or means to convey him clean out of their hands; and thereupon considering that there were no more persons there to convey the prisoner but the porter and himself, he took in hand to win the porter to his purpose.

    Quoth the gentleman unto Perlebeane the porter (they twain privately walking by themselves without the hearing of Frith), “You have heard this man, I am sure, and noted his talk since he came from the Tower.” “Yea, that I have right well marked him,” quoth the porter, “and I never heard so constant a man, nor so eloquent a person.” “You have heard nothing,” quoth the gentleman, “in respect both of his knowledge and eloquence: if he might liberally either in university or pulpit declare his learning, you would then much more marvel at his knowledge. I take him to be such a one of his age, in all kind of learning and knowledge of tongues, as this realm never yet in mine opinion brought forth; and yet those singular gifts in him are no more considered of our bishops, than if he were a very dolt or an idiot; yea, they abhor him as a devil there-for, and covet utterly to extinguish him, as a member of the devil, without any consideration of God’s special gifts.” “Marry,” quoth the porter, “if there were nothing else in him but the consideration of his personage both comely and amiable, and of natural disposition, gentle, meek, and humble; it were pity he should be cast away.” “Cast away!” quoth the gentleman, “he shall be sure cast away, if we once bring him to Croydon; and surely,” quoth the gentleman, “before God I speak it, if thou, Perlebeane, wert of my mind, we would never bring him thither.” “Say you so?” quoth the porter; “I know that you be of a great deal more credit than I am in this matter; and therefore if you can devise honestly, or find some reasonable excuse, whereby we may let him go and provide for himself, I will, with all my heart, condescend to your device.” “As for that,” quoth the gentleman, “it is already invented how and which ways he shall convey himself without any great danger or displeasure taken towards us, as the matter shall be handled. You see,” quoth the gentleman, “yonder hill before us, named Bristow Cawsie two miles from London; there are great woods on both sides. When we come there, we will permit Frith to go into the woods on the left hand of the way, whereby he may convey himself into Kent among his friends (for he is a Kentish man born); and when he is gone, we will linger an hour or twain about the highway, until that it somewhat draw towards the night. Then in great haste we will approach unto Streatham, which is a mile and a half off, and make an outcry in the town that our prisoner is broken from us into the woods on the right hand towards Waynesworth, so that we will draw as many as we may, of the town, to search the country that way for our prisoner, declaring that we followed above a mile or more, and at length lost him in the woods, because we had no more company. And so we will, rather than fail, lie out one night in searching for him, and send word from Streatham to my lord of Canterbury at Croydon in the evening of the prisoner’s escape, and to what coast he is fled: so that by the morning, if he have any good luck at all, he, will so provide for himself, that the bishops shall fail of their purpose.” I assure you,” quoth Perlebeane, “I like very well the device herein; and therefore go ye to Frith, and declare what we have devised for his delivery: for now we are almost at the place.”

    When my lord of Canterhury’s gentleman came nigh to the hill, he joined himself in company with the said Frith, and calling him by his name, said, “Now, master Frith, let us twain commune together another whiles. You must consider, that the journey which I have now taken in hand thus in bringing you to Croydon, as a sheep to the slaughter, so grieveth me, and as it were overwhelmeth me in cares and sorrows, that I little pass what danger I fall in, so that I could find the means to deliver you out of the lion’s mouth. And yet yonder good fellow and I have so devised a means, whereby you may both easily escape from this great and imminent danger at hand, and we also be rid from any vehement suspicion.” And thereupon declared unto Frith the full process discoursed before, how every thing in order should be handled.

    When Frith had diligently heard all the matter concerning his delivery, he said to the gentleman, “Oh good Lord,” with a smiling countenance; “is this the effect of your secret consultation, thus long between you twain? Surely, surely, you have lost a great deal more labor in times past, and so are you like to do this; for if you should both leave me here, and go to Croydon. declaring to the bishops, that you had lost Frith, I would surely follow after as fast as I might, and bring them news that I had found and brought Frith again. Do you think,” quoth he, “that I am afraid to declare my opinion unto the bishops of England, in a manifest truth?” “You are a fond man,” quoth the gentleman, “thus to talk; as though your reasoning with them might do some good. But I do much marvel, that you were so willing to fly the realm before you were taken, and now so unwilling to save yourself.” “Marry, there was and is a great diversity of escaping between the one and the other,” quoth Frith. “Before, I was indeed desirous to escape, because I was not attached, but at liberty; which liberty I would fain have enjoyed for the maintenance of my study beyond the sea, where I was reader in the Greek tongue, according to St.

    Paul’s counsel. Howbeit now, being taken by the higher power, and as it were by Almighty God’s permission and providence delivered into the hands of the bishops, only for religion and doctrine’s sake (namely, such as in conscience, and under pain of damnation, I am bound to maintain and defend), if I should now start aside and run away, I should run from my God, and from the testimony of his holy word, worthy then of a thousand hells. And therefore I most heartily thank you both, for your good wills towards me, beseeching you to bring me where I was appointed to be brought; for else I will go thither all alone.” And so with a cheerful and merry countenance he went with them, spending the time in pleasant and godly communication, until they came to Croydon; wherefore that night he was well entertained in the porter’s lodge.

    On the morrow Frith was called before certain bishops and other learned men, sitting in commission with my lord of Canterbury, to be examined, where he showed himself passing ready and ripe in answering to all objections, as some then reported, incredibly and contrary to all men’s expectations. And his allegations, both out of St. Augustine, and other ancient fathers of the church, were such, that some of them much doubted of St. Augustine’s authority in that behalf: insomuch, that it was reported of such as were nigh and about the archbishop of Canterbury (who then was not fully resolved of the sincere truth of that article), that when they had finished their examination of Frith, the archbishop, conferring with Dr.

    Heath, privately between themselves, said, “This man hath wonderfully travailed in this matter, and yet, in mine opinion, he taketh the doctors amiss.” “Well, my lord,” should Dr. Heath say, “there was no man that could avoid his authorities of St. Augustine. “Wherein?” said my lord.

    Then Dr. Heath began to repeat the said authorities of St. Augustine again, inferring and applying them so straitly against my lord of Canterbury, that my lord was driven to this sheet-anchor, and said, “I see by it,” quoth he to Heath, “that you, with a little more study, will be easily brought to Frith’s opinion;” or such like words in effect. And some chaplains there were of my lord of Canterbury’s, which openly reported, that Dr. Heath was as able to defend Friths assertions in the sacrament, as Frith was himself.

    This learned young man being rims throughly sifted at Croydon, to understand what he could say or do in his cause, there was no man willing to prefer him to answer in open disputation as poor Lambert was. But now, without regard of learning or good knowledge, he was sent and detained unto the butcher’s stall (I mean bishop Stokeley’s consistory), there to hear, not the opinion of St. Augustine, and other ancient fathers of Christ’s primitive church of the said sacrament, but either to be instructed and to hear the maimed and half-cut-away sacrament of antichrist, the bishop of Rome, with the gross and fleshly imagination thereof, or else to perish in the fire, as he most constantly did, after he had, before the bishop of London, Winchester, and Chichester, in the consistory in Paul’s church, most plainly and sincerely confessed his doctrine and faith in this weighty matter, etc.

    A NOTE OF WILLIAM PLANE.

    In the latter days of king Henry the eighth, about that time Anne Askew was in trouble, one Dr. Crome was travailed withal to recant, for that he had preached somewhat against things maintained of the papists in the Church, And one master Traey, hearing thereof, brought a letter secretly to one Plane, dwelling in Budge-row, and desired him to carry it to Dr. Crome, which letter tended to the end to persuade him not to recant, but to stand to the truth. When this good man, William Plane, had it, as he was ever willing to further the truth, so he gladly delivered the same to Dr.

    Crome: which when he had received, and read it, he laid it down upon the table. And after the said William Plane was gone, an arch-papist came thither to persuade him to recant; and, in travailing with him, he found the said. letter on the board, which when he had read, he examined him from whence it came; so, what through flattery and threatening, he declared who was the messenger that brought it. Then was William Plane sent for, and east in the Tower, where he lay miserably thirteen weeks, none admitted to come to him; in which time he was extremely racked, within half a finger breadth as far as Anne Askew: but they could never get of him of whom he had the letter, nor never for all their extremity would he accuse any man; so in the end he was delivered out of the Tower, and lived about three years after, and so godly ended his life. But unto this day would that Tracy never inquire in what condition his wife and children were left, although he was his messenger in carrying the letter. But (good Lord!) the strange disease that grew upon him by that extreme racking, as it is odious to rehearse, so I will wish them to repentance that were the instruments of his torments, if they be alive, and warn other papists to the same, in whom any cruelty hath been in the like cause.

    A NOTE OF LADY JANE.

    The lady Jane, she whom the lord Guilford married, being on a time, when she was very young, at Newhall in Essex, at the lady Mary’s, was by one lady Anne Wharton desired to walk: and they passing by the chapel, the lady Wharton made low curtesy to the popish sacrament hanging on the altar; which when the lady Jane saw, she marveled why she did so, and asked her whether the lady Mary were there, or not. Unto whom the lady Wharton a398 answered, No: but she said, that she made her curtesy to him that made us all “Why, quod the lady Jane, “hew can he be there, that made us all, and the baker made him?” This her answer coming to the lady Mary’s ear, she did never love her after, as is credibly reported, but esteemed her as the rest of that christian profession.

    A LETTER OF QUEEN MARY TO THE DUKE OF NORFOLK.

    Right trusty and right entirely beloved cousin, we greet you well; and having by the assistance of God, and our loving subjects, discomfited Wyat and the other rebels of our county of Kent, who having passed the fiver at Kingston, came back again towards London, and were encountered above Chafing-cross, and there were overthrown, and the most part of them were there slain; Wyat, and three of the Cobhams, Bret, Knevet, Rudstone, Iseley, and other the chief captains taken prisoners: We have thought good as well to give you knowledge hereof, to the end ye may with us, and the rest of our loving subjects, rejoice, and give God thanks for this our victory, as also further to signify unto you, that whereas the said rebel did alway pretend the matter of our marriage to be the cause of this unlawful stir, now plainly appeareth, by good and substantial examinations of divers of the said traitors, that whatsoever they pretended, the final meaning was to have deprived us from our estate and dignity royal, and consequently, to have destroyed our person. Which thing, as we do ascertain you of our honor to be matter of truth, so we pray you to cause the same to be published in all places of those our counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, to the intent our good and loving subjects thereof be no more abused with such false pretenses, or other untrue rumors or tales, by whomsoever the same shall be set forth. And now, things being in this sort quieted, we cannot but give you thanks for the readiness that you have been in with the force of our said country, to have served us, if need had been; praying you to do the like on our behalf to all the gentlemen and others with you, with whom nevertheless we require you to take such orders as the force of our said country may be still in like readiness, to be employed under good and substantial captains, to be chosen of the gentlemen inheritors within the said shire, for our further service upon one hour’s warning, whensoever we shall require the same. And in the mean time our pleasure is, that ye have good regard to the quietness and good order of the country, specially to the apprehension of spreaders of false and untrue tales and rumors, whereby ye shall both deserve well of your whole country, and also do acceptable service, which we will not fail to remember accordingly.

    Given under our signet at our palace of Westminster, the 8th of February, the first year of our reign.

    In haste.

    A TREATISE OF MASTER NICHOLAS RIDLEY, A399 , IN THE NAME, AS IT SEEMETH, OF THE WHOLE CLERGY, TO KING EDWARD THE SIXTH, CONCERNING IMAGES NOT TO BE SET UP, NOR WORSHIPPED IN CHURCHES.

    Certain Reasons which move us that we cannot with safe consciences give our assent, that the Images of Christ, etc., should be placed and erected in Churches.

    First, the words of the commandment, “Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image,” (Exodus 20.) etc. And the same is repeated, more plainly,” Cursed is the man which maketh a graven or molten image, etc., and setteth it in a secret place. And all the people shall say, Amen.” f566 In the first place, these words are to be noted: “Thou shalt not make to thyself,” that is, to any use of religion. In the latter place, these words, “and setteth it in a secret place;” for no man durst then commit idolatry openly. So that conferring the places, it doth evidently appear, that images, both for use of religion and in place of peril for idolatry, are forbidden.

    God, knowing the inclination of man to idolatry, showeth the reason why he made this general prohibition, “Lest peradventure thou, being deceived, shouldst bow down to them and worship them.” f567 This general law is generally to be observed, notwithstanding that, peradventure, a great number cannot be hurt by them: which may appear by the example following. God forbade the people to join their children in marriage with strangers, adding the reason, “For she will seduce thy son, that he shall not follow me.” f568 Moses was not deceived nor seduced by Jethro’s daughter, nor Boaz by Ruth, being a woman of Moab. And yet for all that, the general law was to be observed, “Thou shalt join no marriage with them.” And so likewise, “Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image,” etc. (Deuteronomy 4.)

    God giveth a special charge to avoid images. “Beware,” saith he, “that thou forget not the covenant of the Lord thy God which he made with thee, and so make to thyself any graven image of anything which the Lord hath forbidden thee; for the Lord thy God is a consuming fire, and a jealous God. If thou have children and nephews, and do well in the land, and being deceived, do make to yourselves any graven image, doing evil before the Lord your God, and provoke him to anger, I do this day call heaven and earth to witness, that you shall quickly perish out of the land which ye shall possess; ye shall not dwell in it any longer time, but the Lord will destroy you, and scatter you amongst all nations.”(Deuteronomy 4:25-27.)

    Note, what solemn obtestation God useth, and what grievous punishments he threateneth, to the breakers of the second commandment.

    In the tabernacle and temple of God no image was by God appointed openly to be set, nor by practice afterwards used or permitted, so long as religion was purely observed; so that the use and execution of the law is a good interpreter of the true meaning of the same.

    If by virtue of the second commandment images were not lawful in the temple of the Jews, then, by the same commandment, they are not lawful in the churches of Christians: for, being a moral commandment, and not ceremonial (for by consent of writers, only a part of the precept of observing the sabbath is ceremonial), it is a perpetual commandment, and bindeth us, as well as the Jews.

    The Jews by no means would consent to Herod, Pilate, or Petronius, that images should be placed in the temple at Jerusalem, but rather offered themselves to the death, than to assent unto it; who, besides that they are commended by Josephus for observing the meaning of the law, would not have endangered themselves so far, if they had thought images had been indifferent in the temple of God. For, as St. Paul saith, “Quid templo Dei cum simulacris,”(2 Corinthians 6. [Jos. De B. J. 2. 10.]) etc.

    God’s Scripture doth in no place commend the use of images, but in a great number of places doth disallow and condemn them.

    They are called in the book of Wisdom, “The trap and snare of the feet of the ignorant.” It is said that the invention of them was the beginning of spiritual fornication; and that they were not from the beginning, neither shall they continue to the end.(Wisdom 14:11- 14.) In the 15th chapter of the same book it is said, “Umbra picturae, labor sine fructu,” etc. And again, “They are worthy of death, a400 both that put their trust in them, and that make them, and that love them, and that worship them.”

    The Psalms and Prophets are full of like sentences; and how can we then praise the thing which God’s Spirit doth always dispraise?

    Furthermore, an image made by a father (as appeareth in the same book) for the memorial of his son departed, was the first invention of images, and occasion of idolatry.(Wisdom 14:15.) How much more then shall an image made in the memory of Christ, and set up in the place of religion, occasion the same offense? Images have their beginning from the heathen, and of no good ground; therefore they cannot be profitable to Christians. Whereunto Athanasius agreeth, writing of images against the Gentiles: “The Invention of images came of no good, but of evil; and whatsoever hath an evil beginning, can never in any thing be judged good, seeing it is wholly naught.” f571 St. John saith, “My little children, beware of images.” But to set them in the churches, which are places dedicated to the service and invocation of God, and that over the Lord’s table, being the highest and most honorable place where most danger of abuse both is, and ever hath been, is not to beware of them, nor to flee from them, but rather to embrace and receive them. Tertullian expounding the same words, writeth thus: “Filioli custodite vos ab idolis; non jam ab idololatria quasi ab officio, sed ab idolis; i.e. ab ipsa effigie eorum;” that is to say, “Little children, keep yourselves from the shape itself, or form of them.” f572 Images in the church either serve to edify or to destroy. If they edify, then there is one kind of edification which the Scriptures neither teach nor command, but always disallow: if they destroy, they are not to be used; for in the church of God all things ought to be done to edify. (1 Corinthians 14.)

    The commandment of God is, “Thou shalt not lay a stumblingblock or a stone before the bund: and cursed is he that maketh the blind wander in his way.”

    The simple and unlearned people, who have been so long under blind guides, are blind in matters of religion, and inclined to error and idolatry. Therefore to set images before them to stumble at (“Nam laquei pedibus insipientium sunt,” that is, “they be snares and traps for the feet of the ignorant”), or to lead them out of the true way, is not only against the commandment of God, but deserveth also the malediction and curse of God.(Wisdom 14.)

    The use of images, is to the learned and confirmed in knowledge, neither necessary nor profitable: to the superstitious, a confirmation in error: to the simple and weak an occasion of fall, and very offensive and wounding of their consciences; and therefore very dangerous. For St. Paul saith, offending the brethren, and wounding their weak consciences, they sin against Christ. (1 Corinthians 8.) And “Woe be to him by whom offense or occasion of falling cometh: it were better that a millstone were tied about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than to offend one of the little ones that believe in Christ.” (Matthew 18.) And whereas objection may be made, that such offense may be taken away by sincere doctrine and preaching; it is to be answered, that that is not sufficient; as hereafter more at large shall appear. And though it should be admitted as true, yet should it follow, that sincere doctrine and preaching should always, and in all places, continue as well as images; and so wheresover an image to offend were erected, there should also of reason a godly and sincere preacher be continually maintained: for it is reason that the remedy be as large as the offense, the medicine as general as the poison; but that is not possible in the realm of England that images should be generally allowed, as reason and experience may teach.

    As good magistrates, which intend to banish all whoredom, do drive away all naughty persons, specially out of such places as be suspected; even so images, being meretrices, i.e. whores, for that the worshipping of them is called in the prophets fornication and adultery, ought to be banished; and especially out of churches, which is the most suspected place, and where the spiritual fornication hath been most committed. It is not expedient to allow and admit the thing which is hurtful to the greatest number; but in all churches and commonwealths the ignorant and weak are the greatest number, to whom images are hurtful, and not profitable.

    And whereas it is commonly alleged, that images in churches do stir up the mind to devotion, it may be answered, that contrariwise they do rather distract the mind from prayer, hearing of God’s word, and other godly meditations; as we read that in the councilchamber of the Lacedemonians no picture or image was suffered, lest in consultation of weighty matters of the commonweal, their minds, by the sight of the outward image, might be occasioned to be withdrawn, or to wander from the matter.

    The experience of this present time doth declare, that those parts of the realm, which think and are persuaded that God is not offended by doing outward reverence to an image, do most desire the restitution of images, and have been most diligent to set them up again: restitution, therefore, of them by common authority, shall confirm them more in their error to the danger of their souls, than ever they were before. For as one man writeth, “Nihil magis est certum, quam quod ex dubio factum est certum:” that is to say, “Nothing is more certain or sure, than that which of doubtful is made certain.”

    The profit of images is uncertain; the peril, by experience of all ages and states of the church (as afore) is most certain. The benefit to be taken of them (if there be any), is very small; the danger in seeing of them, which is the danger of idolatry, is the greatest of all other.

    Now, to allow a most certain peril for an uncertain profit, and the greatest danger for the smallest benefit, m matters of faith and religion, is a tempting of God, and a grievous offense.

    PROBATIONS OUT OF THE FATHERS, COUNCILS, AND HISTORIES.

    First, it is manifest, that in the primitive church images were not commonly used in churches, oratories, and places of assembly for religion; but they were generally detested and abhorred, insomuch that the want of imagery was objected to the Christians for a crime.

    Origen reporteth, that Celsus objected the lack of images. f573 Arnobius saith also, that the Ethnics accused the Christians, that they had neither altars nor images. [lib. 6. sect. 1.] Zephirus, in his Commentary a401 upon the Apology of Tertullian, gathereth thus of Tertullian’s words: “Which place of persuasion were very cold, and to no purpose at all, except we hold this always: that Christians in those days did hate most of all images, with their trim decking and ornaments.” f574 Irenaeus reproveth the heretics called Gnostici, for that they carried about the image of Christ made in Pilate’s time after his own proportion (which were much more to be esteemed than any that can be made now); using also, for declaration of their affection towards it, to set garlands upon the head of it.

    Lactantius affirmeth plainly, “It is not to be doubted, that there is no religion, wheresoever is any image.” If Christians then had used images, he would not have made his proposition so large.

    St. Augustine commendeth Varro the Roman in these words: “When Varro thought religion might be kept more purely without images, who doth not see how near he came to the truth?” So that not only by M. Varro’s judgment, but also by St. Augustine’s approbation, the most pure and chaste observation of religion, and nearest the truth, is to be without images.

    The same St. Augustine,(In Psalm 113.) hath these words: “Images have more force to how down and crook the silly soul, than to teach it.” f578 And upon the same psalm he moveth this question: “Every child, yea every beast, knoweth that it is not God which they see: why then doth the Holy Ghost so oft give warning to beware of that thing which all do know?” f579 St. Augustine’s answer [is this] : “For when they are set in churches, and begin once to be worshipped of the multitude or common people, straightway springeth up a most filthy affection of error.” f580 This place of St. Augustine doth well open how weak a reason it is to say, images are a thing indifferent in chambers and in churches.

    For the alteration of the place, manner, and other circumstances, doth alter oftentimes the nature of the thing. It is lawful to buy and sell in the market, but not so in churches. It is lawful to eat and drink, but not so in churches. And therefore saith St. Paul, “Have you not houses to eat and drink in? Do you contemn the church of God?” f581 Many other actions there be, which are lawful and honest in private places, which are neither comely nor honest, not only in churches, but also in other assemblies of honest people.

    Tertullian saith, he used sometimes to burn frankincense in his chamber, which was then used of idolaters, and is yet in the Romish churches. But he joineth withal, “But not after such a rite or ceremony, nor after such a fashion, nor with such preparation or sumptuousness, as it is done before the idols.” f582 So that images placed in churches, and set “in an honorable place of estimation,” as St. Augustine saith, and especially over the Lord’s table, which is done (using the words of Tertullian) “after the same manner and fashion,” which the papists did use, especially after so long continuance of abuse of images, and so, many being blinded with superstitious opinion towards them, cannot be counted -a thing indifferent, but a most certain ruin of many souls.

    Epiphanius, in his epistle to John, bishop of Jerusalem a402 (which epistle was translated out of the Greek by St. Jerome, being a likelihood that Jerome misliked not the doctrine of the same), doth write a fact of his own, which doth most clearly declare the judgment of that notable learned bishop concerning the use of images. His words are these: “When I came to a village called Anablatha; and saw there, as I passed by, a candle burning, and inquiring what place it was, and learning that it was a church, and had entered into the same to pray, I found there a veil or cloth hanging at the door of the same church, dyed and painted; having on it the image of Christ as it were, or of some saint (for I remember not well whose it was). Then when I saw this, that in the church of Christ, against the authority of the Scriptures, the image of a man did hang, I cut it in pieces, etc., and commanded that such manner of veils or clothes, which are contrary to our religion, be not hanged in the church of Christ.” f585 Out of this place of Epiphanius divers notes are to be observed.

    First , that by the judgment of this ancient father, to permit images in churches is against the authority of the Scriptures, meaning against the second commandment, “Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image,” etc.

    Secondly , that Epiphanius doth reject not only graven and molten, but also painted images; forsomuch as he cut in pieces the image painted in a veil hanging at the church door; what would he have done, if he had found it over the Lord’s table?

    Thirdly , that he spareth not the image of Christ: for no doubt that image is most perilous in the church of all others.

    Fourthly , that he did not only remove it, but with a vehemency of zeal cut it in pieces, following the example of the good king Hezekias, who brake the brazen serpent, and burnt it to ashes.

    Last of all, that Epiphanius thinketh it the duty of vigilant bishops to he careful, that no such kind of painted images be permitted in the church.

    Serenus bishop of Marseilles broke down images, and destroyed them when he did see them begin to be worshipped.” f586 Experience of the times since hath declared, whether of these two sentences were better. For since Gregory’s time, the images standing in the West church, it hath been overflowed with idolatry, notwithstanding his or other men’s doctrine; whereas, if Serenus’s judgment had universally taken place, no such thing had happened: for if no images had been suffered, none could have been worshipped; and consequently, no idolatry committed by them.

    TO RECITE THE PROCESS OF HISTORIES AND COUNCILS ABOUT THE MATTER OF IMAGES, It would require a long Discourse; but it shall be sufficient here briefly to touch a few.

    It is manifest to them that read histories, that not only emperors, but also divers and sundry councils in the East church, have condemned and abolished images both by decrees and examples.

    Petrus Crinitus, in his Book of Honest Discipline, wrote out of the emperor’s books these words: “ Valentinian and Theodosius the emperors wrote a403 to the high marshal or lieutenant in this sort: ‘Whereas we are very careful that the religion of Almighty God should be in all things kept, we permit no man to east, grave, or paint the image of our Savior Christ, either in colors, stone, or other matter; but wheresoever it be found, we command it to be taken away, punishing them most grievously that shall attempt any thing contrary to our decrees and empire.” f589 Leo the third, a man commended in histories for his excellent virtues and godliness, who (as is judged of some men) was the author of the book “De Re Militari,” that is, “Of the Feat of War,” being translated out of the Greek by sir John Cheeke, and dedicated to king Henry the eighth, your highness’s father, by public authority commanded abolishing of images; and in Constantinople caused all the images to be gathered together on a heap, and burned them unto ashes.

    Constantine V., his son, assembled a council of the bishops of the East church,: in which council it was decreed as followeth: “It is not lawful for them that believe in God through Jesus Christ, to have any images, either of the Creator, or of any creatures, set up in temples to be worshipped; but rather that all images by the law of God, and for the avoiding of offense, ought to be taken out of churches:” which decree was executed in all places where any images were, either in Greece or in Asia. But in all these times, the bishops of Rome rather maintaining the authority of Gregory, weighing like christian bishops the peril of the church, always in their assemblies allowed images.

    Not long after, the bishop of Rome, practicing with Tharasius patriarch of Constantinople, obtained of Irene the empress (her son Constantine being then young), that a council was called at Nice, in the which the pope’s legates were presidents, which appeared well by their fruits: for in that council it was decreed, that images should not only be permitted in churches, but also worshipped: which council was confuted by a book written by the emperor Charlemagne, calling it a foolish and an arrogant council.

    Soon after this council, arose a sharp contention between Irene the empress, and her son Constantine the sixth, the emperor, who destroyed images. And in the end, as she had before wickedly burned the bones of her father in law, Constantine the fifth, so afterward unnaturally she put out the eyes of her son Constantine the sixth. About which time, as Eutropius writeth, a404 the sun was darkened most terribly for the space of seventeen days, God showing, by that dreadful sign, how much he misliked those kinds of proceedings.

    To be short, there was never thing that made more division, or brought more mischief into the church, than the controversy of images: by reason whereof, not only the East church was divided from the West, and never since perfectly reconciled, but also the empire was cut asunder and divided, and the gate opened to the Saracens and Turks, to enter and overcome a great piece of Christendom. The fault whereof most justly is to be ascribed to the patrons of images, who could not be contented with the example of the primitive church, being most simple and sincere, and most agreeable to the Scripture. For as Tertullian saith, “What is first, that is true, and that which is later is counterfeit:” But with all extremity maintained the use of images in churches, whereof no profit nor commodity did ever grow to the; church of God. For it is evident, that infinite millions of souls have been cast into eternal damnation by the occasion of images used in place of religion; and no history can record, that ever any one soul was won unto Christ by having of images. But lest it might appear that the West church had always generally retained and commended images, it is to be noted, that in a council holden in Spain, called the council of Elvira, the use of images in churches was clearly prohibited in this form of words: “We decree, that pictures ought not to be in churches, lest that be painted upon the walls, which is worshipped or adored.” f593 But this notwithstanding, experience hath declared, that neither assembling in councils, neither writings, preachings, decrees, making of laws, prescribing of punishments, hath holpen against images, to the which idolatry hath been committed, nor against idolatry whilst images stood. For these blind books and dumb schoolmasters (which they call laymen’s books) have more prevailed by their carved and painted preaching of idolatry, than all other written books and preachings in teaching the truth, and the horror of that vice.

    Having thus declared unto your highness a few causes of many which do move our consciences in this matter; we beseech your highness most humbly not to strain us any further, but to consider that God’s word doth threaten a terrible judgment unto us, if we, being pastors and ministers in his church, should assent unto the thing which in our learning and conscience we are persuaded doth tend to the confirmation of error, superstition, and idolatry: and finally, to the ruin of the souls committed to our charge, for the which we must give an account to the Prince of pastors at the last day.(Hebrews 13:17; 1 Peter 5:4.) We pray your majesty also not to be offended with this our plainness and liberty, which all good and christian princes have ever taken in good part at the hands of godly bishops.

    St. Ambrose, writing to Theodosius the emperor, useth these words: “But neither is it the part of an emperor to deny free liberty of speaking, nor yet the duty of a priest not to speak what he thinketh.” And again: “In God’s cause whom wilt thou hear, if thou wilt not hear the priest, to whose great peril the fault should be committed? Who dare say the truth unto thee, if the priest dare not?” These and such like speeches of St. Ambrose, Theodosius, and Valentinian the emperors did always take in good part, and we doubt not but your grace will do the like, of whose not only clemency, but also beneficence, we have largely tasted.

    We beseech your majesty also, in these and such like controversies of religion, to refer the discussment and deciding of them to a synod of your bishops and other godly learned men, according to the example of Constantine the Great, and other christian emperors, that the reasons of both parts being examined by them, the judgment may be given uprightly in all doubtful matters.

    And to return to this present matter, we most humbly beseech your majesty to consider, that besides weighty causes in policy, which we leave to the wisdom of your honorable councilors, the stablishment of images by your authority shah not only utterly discredit our ministers, as builders up of the things which we have destroyed, but also blemish the fame of your most godly father, and such notable fathers as have given their life for the testimony of God’s truth, who by public law removed all images.

    The almighty and everliving God plentifully endue your majesty with his Spirit and heavenly wisdom, and long preserve your most gracious reign and prosperous government over us, to the advancement of his glory, to the overthrow of superstition, and to the benefit and comfort of all your highness’s loving subjects.

    A NOTE OF MASTER RIDLEY.

    Master doctor Ridley, sometime bishop of London, of whom mention is made, was a man so reverenced for his learning and knowledge in the Scripture, that even his very enemies have reported him to have been an excellent clerk, whose life if it might have been redeemed with the sum of ten thousand marks, yea, ten thousand pounds, the lord Dacres of the North, being his kinsman, would have given it to queen Mary, rather than he should have been burned. And yet was she so unmerciful, for all his gentleness in king Edward’s days, that it would not be granted for any suit that could be made. Oh, that she had remembered his labor for her to king Edward the sixth with Cranmer before mentioned, in such sort that even she had yielded but the reward of a publican; (Matthew 5.) then had the earth not so been bereft of him as it was. But the Lord forgive us our sins which were the cause thereof, and grant that we never so provoke his anger again, if it be his blessed will, Amen.

    ANOTHER NOTE OF MASTER RIDLEY.

    Master Ridley, late bishop of London, being prisoner in the Tower, had there given him the liberty of the same, to prove belike whether he would go to mass or no, a405 which once he did. And master Bradford being there prisoner also the same time, and hearing thereof, taketh his pen and ink, and writeth to him an effectual letter to persuade him from the same, and showeth the occasion that thereby should ensue, which (God be honored) did master Ridley no little good: for he repented his fact therein, as he himself maketh mention, writing again in the latter end of the book of Marcus Antonius, which he sent to master Bradford, and never after that polluted himself with that filthy dregs of antichristian service. f595 A NOTE CONCERNING DR. CRANMER IN HIS DISPUTATION.

    That day wherein Dr. Cranmer, late bishop of Canterbury, answered in the divinity school at Oxford, there was alleged unto him by Dr. Weston, that he (the said Cranmer) in his book of the sacrament falsely falsified the saying of the doctors, and specially the saying of St. Hilary, in these words, “vero” for “vere,” showing a print or two thereof, to have defaced his doings therein: but Dr. Cranmer, with a grave and fatherly sobriety answered, that the print of St. Hilary’s works, whereout he took his notes, was verbatim according to his book; and that could his books testify, if they were there to be seen: saying further, that he supposed Dr. Smith in that order rehearsed it in his book of the sacrament: to the which Dr. Smith there present (though he were demanded the answer thereof) stood in silence, as “canis mutus non valens latrare.” But by and by Dr. Weston without shame, to shadow Dr. Smith’s silence, spitely said to Cranmer, “Belike you took your learning out of master Dr. Smith’s book.” f596 There chanced, at that present, to be in the school one William Holcot gentleman, then a sojourner in the University college. He, hearing the same untruth, and remembering that he had amongst his books in his study the said book of Dr. Smith, at his return to his said study desirous to see the truth therein, found it agreeable to the writing and affirmation of Dr.

    Cranmer. And the said Holcot, then and there better remembering himself, found amongst his books the book of Stephen Gardiner, intituled “The Devil’s Sophistry” In which book was the said saying of St. Hilary alleged by the said. Stephen verbatim, both in Latin and English, according to Dr. Cranmer’s confirmation. Then the said William Holcot intending (for the manifest opening and trial of the truth therein) to have delivered the said Gardiner’s book to Dr. Cranmer, brought it to Bocardo the prison of Oxford, where Dr. Cranmer then remained; but there, in the delivery thereof, he was apprehended by the bailiffs, and by them brought before Dr. Weston and his colleagues then at dinner at Corpus Christi college, who straightways laid treason to the charge of the said William Holcot for the maintenance of Cranmer in his haughtiness (as they called it); and so, upon strait examination to know who were privy to his doings in delivery of the said Gardiner’s book, committed him to the said prison of Bocardo, where he sojourned and slept in the straw that night.

    And in the morrow in the morning, Dr. Cole yet alive, then dean of Paul’s, and Dr. Jeffery, two of them then visitors, further examined the said Holcot of that his doings; threatening him to lay treason to his charge, and so to send him to the trial thereof to the then lord chancellor Stephen Gardiner, willing him presently to subscribe to the articles then in question; but he refused, desiring respite until the laws of the realm had determined the same. And so was he again committed to the said prison.

    And after three days Dr. Weston and the residue of the visitors solemnly, in St. Mary’s church, pronouncing sentence against the late bishops, Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer; amongst others called there before them the said Holcot, willing him to subscribe to their three articles. He demanding them then these demands, first, whether they thought in their consciences that the articles, whereunto they willed him to subscribe, were according to the Scriptures, and that the religion then they went about to plant, were the true religion of Christ: they answered all with one voice, “Yea, yea.”

    Then asked he them whether they thought themselves able to answer, and would answer before God for him, if he subscribed thereunto as they willed him. And they likewise answered, “Yea, yea.” And so he, the said Holcot, through fear and frailty of the flesh (as being a novice), upon their threats subscribed. Then they with many fair and flattering words delivered him, but would not let him have again his book brought to Bocardo, lest (as it seemed) he should show it to their shame. And they privily willed the master and the fellows of the said University college to see the said William Holcot forthcoming: and if they, within a fortnight after, did not hear from the then lord chancellor what should be done with him, that then they, at the fortnight’s end, should expel him out of the said college; which they would have done, if the then vice-chancellor had not willed them to the contrary. This Holcot, though then an apostate, is yet now a penitent preacher.

    AN EPISTLE OF BISHOP HOOPER IN LATIN, SENT TO THE CONVOCATION-HOUSE TOUCHING MATTERS OF RELIGION. F598 Episcopis, decanis, archidiaconis, et caeteris cleri ordinibus in synodo Londinensi congregatis, gratiam et pacem a Domino.

    Non vos latet, viri doctissimi, in rebus arduis et ambiguis et causis difficilioribus, judicium apud veteres (juxta mandatum Dei) delatum fuisse semper ad sacerdotes, Levitas, et ad Praesidem, qui, pro tempore, judicis munere fungebatur; ut omnes hi causas et lites diffciliores explicarent, ex praescripto legis Dei. Ita qualescunque controversiae fuerunt; ex sententia sacerdotum et Praesidis ad normam et praescriptum legis Dei lata componebantur. Et ab eo quod judices partibus litigantibtus statuissent, nullo modo erat declinandum. Quodsi quis contumacius sacerdoti aut Praesidi non paruisset, juxta legem Dei sententiam pronuncianti, poenas contumaciae morte luebat; quo populus, hac ultione et contumaciae vindicta admonitus, metueret, et deinceps insolescere desisteret.

    Quam difficiles, imo quam periculosae, inter nos et vos de re eucharistica lites agantur, vestrae conciones, scripta, et libelli testantur; nos vero — qui meliorem, veriorem, et antiquissimam fidem sustinemus — confiscatione omnium bonorum nostrorum, dura et inhumana carceris servitute, sentimus. Quare mei ipsius nomine, ac omnium fratrum qui mecum eandem catholicae ac sanctae religionis veritatem profitentur, vos omnes in Christo Jesu obtestor, ut causam hanc, vel aliquam quamcunque ob religionem ortam inter nos et vos, deferre dignemini ad supremam curism parliamenti; ut ibi utraque pars coram sacro et excelso senatu sese, religiose et animo submisso, judicio et autoritati verbi Dei subjiciat.

    Et si vestram religionem, quam sanctam, orthodoxam, ac catholicam esse contendiris, ex verbo Dei asserere potestis, illam et nos libentur amplexabimur; nostram, quam modo pro sacrosancta defendimus, repudiantes, gratias item Deo et vobis agentes quam maximas, quod, per vos ab erroribus liberati, ad veritatis cognitionem revocemur. Non solum autem hoc a vobis obtestamur, ut vos vestramque causam judicio verbi Dei coram summo parliamento deferatis; verum etiam ut nobis commodum detur tempus, quo veterum scripta et sacras literas evolvamus, a sacro senatu impetrare dignemini. Et si ibi justas ac legiti-mas rationes fidei nostrae non reddiderimus, judicio magistratus nos ipsos submittlimus, ut debitam ultionem nostri sceleris et impietatis nobis infligat. Si haec facere non recusaveritis, religio, quam castam, illibatam, et salvam, ac ab omnibus amplectendam esse contenditis, gloriosius de vestra fide et religione, ac de nobis ipsis (qui illam impiam esse et falsam contestamur), victoriam reportabit. Nam si vestra religio et cultus in causa eucharistiae fontem et originem ducunt ex verbo Dei, proculdubio sanctam et sempiternam esse oportet. Et scitis quod res sancta et vera quo magis examinatur, et per verbum Dei exploratur, eo fit illustrior et purior; et quanto purior et illustrior fit, tanto magis ab omnibus desideratur, et obviis ulnis excipitur. Quis enim non desideraret et amplecteretur religionem et cultum a Deo mandatum, et ab illius verbo sancitum ac confirmatum? Quare si vestra religio et cultus Dei res sit adeo vera, sancta, et a Deo mundo exbibita, non est quod ei metuatis.

    Nam quod variis modis tentatur ac probatur, modo plum ac sanctum fuerit, jacturam ab hostibus nullam sentit, sed potius hostes conculcat ac interficit. Solis radii sterquiliniorum sordibus non coinquinantur; veritasque divini verbi errorum tenebris et caligine non offunditur. Nec est quod vobis ipsis metuatis; modo reipsa id praestetis, quod ubique jactatis. Nam quotquot vestras partes non sequuntur, aliquo gravissimo ignominiae genere nimis superbe afflcitis: nos omnes omnino indoctos esse praedicatis, aut plane dementatos affirmatis. Vobis autem plusquam divinam vindicatis prudentiam; nobis vero plusquam belluinam stoliditatem tribuitis. Jam quam facile erit doctis indoctos, hominibus sanae mentis insania percitos, ingenio et prudentia flagrantibus stolidos et ignaros vincere, sacer parliamenti conventus nullo negotio intelliget.

    Ideo, si omnino ob Christum et illius causae gloriam quam nos defendimus, aut ob salutem nostram, ut vestra prudentia nos stultitiae arguamur, vestrique doctrina et eruditione nos ignorantiae accusemur, hoc facere non vultis; tamen, ut publice impietatis convincamur coram summo senatu, hoc praestate. Et si istis rationibus nihil. moveamini; tamen vestra ipsorum causa certe postulat, ut palam eas lites inter nos componantur, idque coram competenti judice; ne apud omnes pios male audiat, et fortassis hac suspicione laboret, quasi lucem et publicum examen fugiat, ne impietatis et idololatriae per verbum Dei rea deprehendatur; et vos qui malam causam, imo pessimam, ferro et igne defenditis, non tam docti nec pii (ut omnino videri et haberi vultis) inveniamini, sed potius ignorantiae et stultitiae, quas nobis impingitis, redarguamini.

    Non vos fugit quomodo publice, palam, et in facie ac in praesentia omnium statuum hujus regni, in summa curia parliamenti, veritas verbi Dei per fidos, doctos, et pios ministros de vestra impia missa gloriose victoriam reportavit: quamvis per trecentos annos non solum locum et templum Dei occupaverit, vetum etiam corda hominum (tanquam Deus) inhabitaverit. Sed quocunque titulo, nomine, honore, reverentia, sanctitate, tempore, patronis, universalitate splenduit, ubi per sanctissimum regem Edovardum sextum sanctissimae memoriae ad vivum lapidem Lydium verbi Dei examinari per proceres, heroas, ac doctos hujus regni viros erat mandatum; statim evanuit, et nihil aliud apparuit, quam spurcissimum et immundissimum idolum sub pallio et nomine Dei impie contectum. AEqua et justa petimus, ut palam et publice inter inter nos componantur. Si igitur vestrae causae et vobis ipsis non diffidatis, una nobiscum apud sanctum senatum agere dignemini, ut coram illo, authoritate verbi Dei, quis nostrum veriorem partem defenderit, dignoscatur. Nullis enim legibus sanctis et justis unquam fuit permissum, ut una pars litigans de altera parte judex constitueretur. Nam in omnibus controversiis et causis difficilioribus (maxima in religione) medius aliquis, et neutra litigantium pars, in judicem eligendus est. Nec Christus ipse (quamvis ipsa veritas, aeterni Patris filius) hanc potestatem et imperium judicandi sibi vindicavit, quandocunque lites de ejus doctrina inter ilium et Phariseos vel quoscunque alios contigerunt; sed semper ad legem appellavit, adversariosque suos, ut legis praescripto et sententia starent, rogavit; Scrutamini (inquiens) Scripturas. Nos etiam a vobis nihil aliud in nomine Domini nostri Jesu Christi supplices petimus et rogamus, nisi ut causa, de qua inter nos litigatur, sententia et authoritate verbi Dei decidatur ae finiatur. Et si per verbum Dei fidem nostram parum candidam et piam ostendere valetis, porrigemus vobis herbam, dabimusque dextras. Nec in implos Arianos pii et sancti patres hanc judicandi potestatem sibi assump-serunt; sea adfuit disputationi plus princeps Constantinus imperator, qui rationes partium litigantium diligenter perpendit, et sententiam atque judicium causae soli authoritati verbi Dei detulit. Quid hoc est igitur? quo jure contenditis? vultis et nostri et causae nostrae testes, accusatores, et judices esse? Nos tan turn legem et evangelium Dei, in causa religionis, judicem competentem agnoscimus; illius judicio stet vel cadat nostra causa. Tantum (iterum atque iterum) petimus, ut coram competenti judice detur nobis, qui vincula et carceres sustinemus, amicum christianumque auditorium: tunc haud dubitamus, quin nostras rationes et argumenta authorirate verbi divini simus stabilituri, ac vestras plane subversuri. Hactenus praejudico injuste gravamur; nec mirum, cum una pars litigantium judex alterius parris constituatur. Quapropter ad verbum Dei, tanquam unicum et solum competentem in causa religionis judicem, appellamus. Si (praeter et contra hanc legem Dei) falsa et impia (ut coepistis) vi et dolo promovere non desistetis, sed fratres vestros truculenter persequendo pergetis; nos, in tantis periculls constituti, ad misericordiam Dei confugiemus, qui solus et possit et velit nos a vestris erroribus incolumes et salvos conservare. Praeterea, ut olim aliqui ex nobis, pro salute et incolumitate aliquot vestrum apud magistratum civilem intercessimus; sic et nunc pro omnium vestrum salute in Christo Jesu apud Patrem coelestem intercedere non desistemus, ut tandem ad meliorem et sinceriorem mentern reversi unicum Christum Jesum, quem praecinuerunt prophetae, praedicaverunt apostoli, quemque omnes pii agnoscunt jam (quoad humanitatem) sedentem ad dextram Patris in coelis, amplectamini, et exosculemini; repudiato conficto et ementito illo Christo, ex pane confecto, quem non solum juvenes, virgines, et senes, verum etiam oves et bores, pecoraque campi, volucres coeli, et pisces marls, panem agnoscunt ac sentiunt, et non Deum. Desistite, rogamus igitur enixe, ulterius oculos piornm perstringere. Verus enim Christus, quatenus homo, jam amplius sursum ac deorsum per manus sacerdotum agitari et immolari non potest, Infernum vicit, peccata vestra in cruce expiavit, mortem destruxit, et jam astra tenet; quem olim videbitis venientem in nubibus coeli cum potestate magna et gloria, sempiternisque poenis vos plangetis, nisi hic poenitentiam falsae et impiae vestrae doctrinae egeritis. Si Deus autem, pro sua inexhausta bonitate et clementia, per verbum suum lites istas inter nos et vos componi dignetur, non dubito quin oculos vestros ita sit aperturus, ut quam horribiliter et impie Dei ac hominum testimonio et scriptis vos abutimini videatis. Sed si furioso et excandescenti spiritu vestras partes, citra authoritatem verbi Dei, defendere velitis, actum est omnino de vestra aeterna salute: quod Dominus propter Filium suum unicum avertat!

    Cogitate etiam apud vos ipsos an hoc sit piorum ministrorum ecclesiae officium, vi, metu, et pavore, corda hominum in vestras partes compellere? Profecto Christus non ignem, non gladium, non carceres, non vincula, non violentiam, non confiscationem bonorum, non regineae majestatis terrorem, media organa constituit, quibus veritas sui verbi mundo promulgaretur: sed miti ac diligenti prsedicatione evangelii sui mundum ab errore et idololatria converti pracepit. Vos non Christi sed antichristi armis utimini, quibus populum invitum ad vestra sacra compellitis; et non volentem et instructum verbo Dei trahitis. Sed quam malus custos perpetuitatis sit timor, non ignoratis. Certe qui timet, nisi Dei Spiritu semper revocetur, odit. Tradite igitur saluberrima praecepta legis et evangelii populo Dei, ut pro Christi ministris per verbum Christi ab omnibus agnoscamini. Ideo enim ministri ecclesiae Christi estis constituti, ut tantum Christi doctrinam populum Dei doceretis, et non ut novam et a Christo alienam obtruderetis. Quae jam vos in Ecclesia agitis (si coram aequo judice amicam ac christianam disputationem non recusaveritis) ex verbo Dei ostendemus — vel a lege Mosaica mutuata, vel per antichristum et pseudo-ministros in ecclesiam fuisse introducta, ut hoc brevi tractatu excelsae parliamenti curiae destinato facile constabit. Scio inter vos esse tam turgido et iniquo spiritu praedicatores, qui putant nos tantum inanis, gloriae, superbiae, arrogantiae et famae nostrse, fumo duci; et ideo velle potius semper male currere, quam admoitos de errore bene recurrere. Sed hoc Deus novit, quod tantum illius gloriam nostramque salutem in Christo quaerimus, dicant adversarii quicquid velint. Meminerint autem nostri adversarii et cogitent, quanquam apud illos nec pro doctis nec piis hominibus habeamur (et haud dubie nos ipsos omnis impietatis et peccati apud Deum quotidie accusamus), tamen homines sumus ratione praediti. Et quis (nisi insanus) jactura et amissione omnium bonorum suorum, uxoris, liberorum, libertatis et vitae redimeret famae aut inanis glorise titulum? Profecto tanti poenitere (ut dicitur) non emeremus.

    Igitur illius verbi veritatem nostris bonis omnibus ac vitae ipsi praeferimus: et si centies moriendum nobis fuetit, (Deo nos adjuvante) ad idololatriam et impium cultum Dei, quae Dei misericordia hactenus reliquimus, non revertemur. Domini sumus, sive vivimus, sive morimur; ejus igitur voluntas in vobis et in nobis cum misericordia fiat, Amen.

    Vestrae salutis in Christo studiosissimus, Johannes Hooperus , nuper Vigorniensis et Glocestrensis Episcopus.

    A NOTE OF BISHOP FERRAR.

    Dr. Leyson, doctor of law, a civilian, a justice of peace, the same who is mentioned before, would not suffer bishop Ferrar, when he was at the stake to be burnt, to speak his mind; and about half a year after the said Dr. Leyson died; and when he would have spoke himself, he could not.

    THE TROUBLE OF THOMAS HITTON, MARTYR, WITH HIS EXAMINATIONS, ANSWERS, CONDEMNATION, AND MARTYRDOM, ANNO 1529, THE 20TH OR FEBRUARY.

    Thomas Hitton of Martham in the diocese of Norwich, an honest poor man and religious, ever fearing God from his youth, and loving his word; when persecution for the same word in the days of king Henry the eighth grew to be somewhat hot, took his journey toward Rochester in Kent, intending to have gone to Dover, and so to have crossed the seas into France and other countries for a time, where reposing himself a while, he might be free from the heat of persecution. As he was going on his intended journey, one Thomas Swainesland, bailiff to William Warham archbishop of Canterbury, meeting him by the way, and suspecting him to be (as they called them) a heretic, caused him to be staid and brought before the said William archbishop of Canterbury, his master; who demanded of him from whence he came, and whither he intended to have gone, if he had not been intercepted? The same Thomas answered, that he came out of the diocese of Norwich, and purposed to have gone beyond the seas, it’ God had so permitted. Then the bishop asked him, if he had ever been beyond the seas before, and what books he had brought over. He answered, that he had been once beyond the seas before, and had brought certain books with him from thence, namely, two New Testaments, and one primer in English. The bishop asked him to whom he gave the said books. He answered, he would not declare: “for,” saith he, “such is your bloody cruelty, that you would never sleep quietly till you have sucked their blood, as you mean to do mine.” The bishop, seeing he could extort no more out of him, and perceiving his constant spirit and fervent zeal to the truth, commanded him to prison till further opportunity might serve for the shedding of his blood.

    THE SECOND APPEARANCE OF THOMAS HITTON a406 , BEFORE WARHAM ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

    Within a while after, the bishop commanded the said Thomas to be brought before him again, who demanded of him how he judged and believed of the religion then in force, and of the authority of the bishop of Rome. The said Thomas answered, that the religion then used, was most abominable idolatry, and contrary to the holy word of God: “And as for the pope,” quoth he, “he is Antichrist, the first-born of Satan, and hath no more power or authority than any other bishop hath in his own diocese, nor so much neither.” The bishop hearing this, was in such a pelting chafe, that at that time he would talk no more with him, but returned him from whence he came, namely to Bocardo, with commandment to appear before him again upon the 18th day of the same month following, at his manor of Knoll, to answer to such articles and interrogatories as should be objected ex officio against him.

    HIS THIRD APPEARANCE, ETC.

    The said Thomas Hitton, at the day prefixed, made his personal appearance before the bishop at the place appointed; to whom the bishop ministered certain articles and interrogatories for him to answer unto, commanding him to swear to answer truly and unfeignedly unto them, and. every part of them. The said Thomas Hitton refused to swear, saying, “It is against God’s laws and good conscience, for any man to swear to shed his own blood, for so he should be a murderer of himself, and become guilty of his own death.” But notwithstanding that he refused to swear to answer, yet he answered truly and directly to every particular article and interrogatory propounded unto him; but so as was smally to their contentation, yet no doubt to the great glory of God, and comfort of the godly.

    This done, the bishop brake off his session for that time, and commanded him to prison again, and to appear before him in the place aforesaid upon the Friday next following, to answer further as should be demanded of him, granting him liberty withal to add to, or subtract from his former answers, or else utterly to deny and revoke the same.

    HIS FOURTH APPEARANCE, ETC.

    The day and time approaching, the said Thomas Hitton appeared again accordingly, and having heard his former answers and confessions distinctly by the notary read unto him, he reformed them in certain points; to some he added, from other some he subtracted, but none he denied.

    Then the bishop, perceiving his unmovable constancy in the truth, setting learning and reason apart, being not able to convince him by arguments and truth, nor yet to reprove the spirit which spoke in him, fell to exhorting of him to have respect to his soul’s health, and not so willfully (as he termed it) to cast away himself for ever, but to repent, and abjure his errors, and in so doing, he would be good unto him, he said.

    When the bishop with all his persuasions could do no good with him to withdraw him from the truth of God’s word, then the doctors and other the assistants attempted the like: all which notwithstanding, the said Thomas Hitton would not desist nor shrink one jot from the truth, but both affirmed and continued his former articles and confessions to the end; inferring withal, that they sinned against the Holy Ghost, inasmuch as they knew that God’s word was the truth, and that the mass and all popish religion is nothing but idolatry, lies, and open blasphemy against the majesty of God and his word, and contrary to God’s word in every respect, and yet they would allow and maintain the same, contrary to their own consciences: whereat all the bench was greatly offended, and commanded him to prison again, assigning him a day to come before them again.

    HIS FIFTH APPEARANCE, ETC.

    At the day appointed, the said Thomas Hitton appeared, to whom the bishop said, “Thomas, dost thou believe that any man either spiritual or temporal, is of sufficient authority to set forth any law or sanction of himself, the breach whereof is mortal or venial sin? To whom Thomas Hitton answered, that no man either spiritual or temporal might make any law or sanction, the breach whereof is mortal or venial sin, except the same law or sanction be drawn out of the word of God, or else grounded upon the same with a good conscience; and therefore the church cannot set forth any law, the breach whereof is mortal or venial sin, unless it be grounded upon the word of God also. But if any man, or the church of God itself, do set forth any law grounded upon the word of God and good conscience, the breach thereof to the violater is mortal and deadly sin. After all manner of ways and means attempted to draw this poor man from Christ and his truth, the bishop, seeing that he could not prevail, determined to send him to the bishop of Rochester, and so did; who assayed by all means possible to remove him from his former professed truth. But seeing all his endeavors frustrate, and that he profited nothing, he signified the same to the archbishop, and withal both went himself unto him, and carried the poor prisoner with him thither also.

    In the afternoon of the same day, the said archbishop of Canterbury, the bishop of Rochester, and divers other assistants, called the said poor man before them again, and caused all the former articles, interrogatories, and demands to be read unto him in English, to the end he should either have revoked the same, or else, recanted them altogether, using both threats and fair promises, to the performance thereof, but all in vain: for his faith was built upon the rock Christ Jesus, and therefore unable to be removed with any storms of persecution whatsoever.

    In fine, the archbishop (with mature judgment you must believe) consulting with the bishop of Rochester, and others, proceeded to his condemnation, reading the bloody sentence of death against him; and so was he, being condemned, delivered to the secular power, who carried him to the prison; and soon after he was burnt for the testimony of Jesus Christ, as you may see more at large in his story, for those constancy in the truth, the everlasting God be praised, Amen.

    A NOTE OF A CERTAIN GOOD MAN TROUBLED IN BOULOGNE THE FIRST YEAR OF KING EDWARD THE SIXTH, FOR THE GOSPEL.

    The examination of me, William Hastlen, gunner, in the castle of High Boulogne, in the year of our Lord 1547, and the first year of the reign of king Edward the sixth. As I was in the church of Boulogne, called the Stale, upon the 12th of April, being Easter Tuesday, reading of a godly book, called ‘The Lamentation of a Christian against the Citizens of London,’ a407 between the hours of three and four at afternoon, there came certain men to me as I stood at an altar in the church reading to myself, and asked me what good book I had; and I said, they should hear if they pleased.

    Then they desired me to read out that they might hear, and so did I very gladly; but I had not read long (the priests and clerks were at their Latin evensong, I reading mine English book) but there same a tipstaff for me, taking my two books from me, and commanded me to go with him; for he said I must go before the council of the town.

    Then went I forthwith with him; and a little without the churchdoor, sir John Bridges met us, and bade the tipstaff carry me to sir Leonard Beckwith, knight, to be examined; and coming before his presence, he asked me what books they were that I had at the church; and was reading of one of them openly in the church to the people. And I said, so far as I had read them they were good godly books. And he said, they were heresy. And with that he asked me how I did believe of the sacrament of the altar, whether I did not believe that to be the very body of Christ, flesh, blood, and bones: and I asked him whether he meant that that was in the pix or no? and he said, Yea, even that in the pix. And I said, that since I had sure knowledge of Scriptures, I did not believe it to be the body of Christ, but a bare piece of bread; nor by God’s help will I ever believe it otherwise to be. Then he said, I was a heretic, and asked me what I made of the sacrament: and I said, if it were duly ministered according to Christ’s institution, that then I did believe that the faithful communicants, in receiving that blessed sacrament, did receive into their inward man or soul, the very body and blood of our Savior Jesus Christ. Then said he, “Dost thou not believe it to remain the very body of Christ after the words of consecration pronounced by the priest?” And I said, No. Then said he, “What dost thou make of the church?” I said, “As it is now used, it is a den of thieves, and the synagogue of Satan.” “Thou heretic,” said he, “there remaineth the very body of Christ.” But I said, that Christ being God and Man, dwelleth not in the temples made with men’s hands. Much other communication had we at that time, but this was the effect that day. Then he asked me whether I would be forthcoming till to-morrow. And I said, “Sir, if you think that I will not, you may lay me where I shall be so.” Then he let me go for that night, and said, “We shall talk further with thee to-morrow; so I departed home.”

    And about the space of two hours after, master Huntingdon the preacher (which did much good with his preaching in Boulogne at that time) came to me, and said, that he heard me spoken of at my lord Gray’s, who was then lord deputy of the town and country of Boulogne; “and I perceive,” said he, “that you are in great danger of trouble, if you escape with your life: for there are some of the council marvelously bent against you.” I said, “The Lord’s will be done.” “Well,” said he, “without you feel in yourself a full purpose, by God’s help, to stand earnestly to the thing that ye have spoken, you shall do more hurt than good. Wherefore,” said he, “if you will go to Calais, I will send you where you shall be well used, and be out of this danger.” Then I thanked master Huntingdon, saying, “I purpose by God’s assistance to abide the uttermost that they can do unto me.” “Well then,” said he, “I can tell you you will be sent for to-morrow betimes before the whole council.” “That is,” said I, “the thing that I look for.”

    Then rose I betimes in the morning and went into the market-place, that I might spy which way the officer should come for me. I had not tarried there long, but I spied a tipstaff, and went toward him, and asked him whom he sought; and he said, “A gunner of the great ordnance in the castle of Boulogne:” and I said, “I am he:” then said he, “You must go with me to my lords:” and I said, “Therefor I looked.”

    When I came there, I saw my lord and the whole council were assembled together in a close parlor. Doing my duty to them, my lord said to me, “It is informed me that thou hast seditiously congregated a company together in the church, and there in the time of service thou didst read unto them an heretical book, and hast not reverently used silence in the time of the divine service. What sayest thou to this?”

    I said, “If it please your honor, I was in the church a good while before any service began, and nobody with me, reading to myself alone, upon a book that is agreeable to God’s word, and no heresy in it that I read; and when it drew toward service time, there came men to the church, and, some of them coming to me whom I knew not, asking me what good book I had, I said it was a new book that I had not yet read over. Then they prayed me that I should read so that they might hear some part with me; and so I did, not calling, pointing, nor assembling any company to me. And the service being in Latin, that for the strangeness of the tongue, besides much superstition joined with it, was not understood of the most part of them that said or sung it, much less of them that stood by and did hear it; whereas, by the word of God, all things in the church or congregation should be done to the edifying of the people, and seeing I could have no such thing by their service; I did endeavor to edify myself, and others that were desirous of reading godly books.

    And because the church is so abused contrary to the word of God, being beset round about with a sort of abominable idols, before whom no man ought to kneel, nor do any manner of reverence, because the Scriptures do curse both the idol and the idol-maker, and all that do any worship or reverence unto them, or before them, for that cause I used no reverence there.” “Well,” said my lord, “I would thou couldst answer to the rest, as well as thou hast done to this; but I fear me thou canst not: for it is told me that thou hast spoken against the blessed sacrament.” And I said, “If it please your lordship, that did [ never in all my life, nor ever will do, by the grace of God.”

    With that my chief accuser, sir Leonard Beckwith, knight, said to me, “Didst thou not say to me yesterday, that thou didst not believe the sacrament of the altar, after the words of consecration by the priest, to be the very body of Christ, flesh, blood, and bones, as it was born of the Virgin Mary?” “It is true indeed that I said so; for neither do I believe it to remain Christ’s body, nor ever will by the grace of God believe it so to be: for I believe that Christ with that body that was conceived and born of the Virgin Mary, did ascend up into heaven; and there (according to our belief) he sitteth on the right hand of God the Father; and from thence that body shall come at the day of judgment to judge the quick and the dead. And yet, in the mean while, I believe, that (the sacrament duly ministered according to Christ’s institution) all the faithful receivers of this sacrament, lifting up the eyes of their mind into heaven where Christ’s body is, do receive in that sacrament into their soul or inward man the very body of our Savior Jesus Christ: yea, and I believe further, that Christ concerning his divine power, or the power of his Godhead, is wheresoever two or three be gathered together in his name, that he is in the midst even amongst them; and that he is so with his faithful flock even to the world’s end.”

    Then they laid their heads together and had privy talk. After that two of them said to me, that it was rank heresy, that I did believe it to remain bare bread after the priest had consecrated it; and not believing it to be the very body of Christ, I was worthy to be burned. Then said I earnestly unto them, “Think you not, though I be a vile abject in your sight, and he that is most busy among you to seek my blood, but that my blood shall be required at his or their hands?”

    Then had they privy talk together again, after the which my lord said unto me, “Thou hearest that they here lay heresy to thy charge, and I am a man of war, and have no skill in such high mysteries; wherefore thine accusers say, that thou must suffer here as a heretic, that all the rest of the garrison may beware by thee, that they fall not into the like heresy, and so cast away themselves.” Then said I, “I appeal from this council to the council of England.” Then said my lord, “I am very glad that thou hast appealed to the council of England, for there are learned men and divines that can skill of such matters: thither shalt thou be sent ere it be long.”

    Then was I carried to sir John Bridges’ house; and having pen and ink, I was bidden to write mine articles, which were in effect those points of religion which you have heard before in my examination.

    Then on the morrow, being Thursday, and the 14th of April, I was brought to the prison in the town, called the Marshalsea, where I was very gently used: for a good gentleman, one master Waghan, was the keeper there at that time. But surely, when I was apprehended, I had not so much as one penny to help myself with, for we had been long unpaid. Furthermore I thought in that town of war, that there were very few or none that favored the word of God; for I looked for no help there, but to be hated and despised of all men there: for I knew not past two or three there that had any love to the gospel till I was in prison; and then there came very many soldiers unto me that I never knew before, and gave me money, so that I had as good as three pounds given me in a small time that I was in prison. The 14th day of May toward night, I was sent into England; one master Messenger and one other man brought me to London even the same day, being Sunday at night and the 15th day of May. There was a great talk over all the city of one Dr. Smith that recanted that day. They brought me to the Marshalsea and there left me, I hearing no more of them that brought me thither: but master Huntingdon as a faithful minister of Jesus Christ, that gave me warning before of all this trouble, came from Boulogne to London, causing my articles to be seen, so that by his painful diligence to the council for me, after that I had been there little more than one month, I was discharged out of prison, and bid get me home to Boulogne, to my living again.

    But surely if I had not appealed to the council of England, I had been burnt in Boulogne: for it was told me of them that knew much in that matter, that it was already determined shortly to have been accomplished, it’ I had not appealed: for the which deliverance I give praise to the everliving God.

    VERSES LAID IN QUEEN MARY’S CLOSET UPON HER DESK, AGAINST HER COMING UNTO HER PRAYERS. O lovesome rose, most redolent, Of fading a408 flowers most fresh, In England pleasant is thy scent, For now thou art peerless.

    This rose which beareth such a smell, Doth represent our queen; O listen, that I may you tell Her colors fresh and green.

    The love of God within her heart Shall beautify her grace:

    The fear of God on the other part, Shall stablish her in place.

    This love and fear her colors are, Whereby if she be known; She may compare both nigh and far, Unable to be overthrown.

    The love of God, it will her cause (Unfeigned if it be), To have respect unto his laws, And hate idolatry.

    If that she have the fear of God, And be thereto right bent, She will do that that he her bode, And not her own intent.

    O noble queen take heed, take heed, Beware of your own intent:

    Look ere you leap; then shall you speed:

    Haste maketh many shent.

    Remember Saul that noble king, What shame did him befall, Because that unto the Lord’s bidding He had no lust at all.

    The Lord hath bid you shall love him, And other gods defy:

    Alas, take heed! do not begin To place idolatry.

    What greater disobedience Against God may be wrought, Than this: to move men’s conscience To worship things of nought?

    What greater folly can you invent Than such men to obey?

    How can you serve your own intent, Not foreseeing your own decay?

    And whereas first ye should maintain Your realm in perfect unity:

    To rent the people’s hearts in twain Through false idolatry.

    Is this the way to get you fame, Is this to get you love?

    Is this to purchase you a name, To fight with God above?

    Is this your care to set up mass, Your subjects’ souls to ‘stroy?

    Is this your study no more to pass, God’s people to annoy?

    Is this to reign, to serve your will, Good men in bonds to keep; And to exalt such as be evil, And for your grace unmeet?

    Such as made that fond divorce, Your mother to deface; Are nighest you in power and force, And bounden most unto your grace.

    Well, yet take heed of had-I-wist a409,” Let God’s word bear the bell:

    If you will reign, learn to know Christ, As David doth you tell.

    What great presumption doth appear, Thus in a week or twain; To work more shame than in seven year Can be redrest again?

    All is done without a law, For will doth work in place:

    And thus all men may see and know The weakness of your case.

    That miserable masking mass, Which all good men do hate; Is now by you brought up again, The root of all debate.

    Your ministers that love God’s word, They feel this bitter rod; Who are robbed from house and goods, As though there were no God.

    And yet you would seem merciful In the midst of tyranny, And holy, whereas you maintain Most vile idolatry.

    For fear that thou shouldst hear the truth, True preachers may not speak; But on good prophets you make ruth, And unkindly them entreat.

    Him have you made lord chancellor, Who did your blood most stain:

    That he may suck the righteous blood, As he was wont again.

    Those whom our late king did love, You do them most disdain; These things do manifestly prove Your colors to be but vain.

    God’s word you cannot abide, But as your prophets tell:

    In this you may be well compared To wicked Jezebel, Who had four hundred prophets false, And fifty on a rout:

    Through whose false preaching poor Eli Was chased in and out.

    God’s prophets you do evil entreat, Baal’s priests defend your grace:

    Thus did the Jews put Christ to death, And let go Barrabas.

    Hath God thus high exalted you, And set you on a throne, That you should prison and deface His flock that maketh moan?

    The Lord which doth his flock defend, As the apple of an eye; Of this full quickly will make an end, And banish cruelty.

    Therefore my counsel pray you take, And think thereof no scorn:

    You shall find it the best counsel, Ye had since you were born.

    Put away blind affection; Let God’s word be umpire, To try our true religion, From this evil-favored gear. old Britons were with Cadwallader their king constrained to flee and leave this land, because of pestilence and famine: what miseries and destructions — brought the Danes in with them! and what troubles sustained the inhabitants of this realm afore the same were again driven out! What bloodshed was here in king William the Conqueror’s days! were not the noblemen slain, and gentlemen brought into bondage? were not their matrons defiled, and their daughters given to be kitchen-drudge, s under the Normans’ proud ladies? were not their lands, houses, and possessions divided by lot unto strangers? Their gold and silver wherein they trusted, was the bait that their enemies hunted after. What a plague was the civil war between the king and barons! what horrible bloodshed was in this realm till at the last God’s merciful providence ended those miseries by the happy joining of the two regal houses together, in the marriage of king Henry the seventh. What miseries have chanced in our time, we have not only seen and heard, but we have felt them; and God be praised, had our parts of them. Doubtless this all hath chanced for the sins of, the people, as the prophet Jeremiah plainly teacheth, saying, “Who is a wise man that understandeth this? and to whom shall the word of the Lord’s mouth come, that he may preach it forth? Why hath the land perished, and is burnt like a wilderness, so that no man may pass through it?” (Jeremiah 9) And the Lord saith, “Because they have forsaken my law, which I have given them, and they have not heard my voice, and have not walked in them; and have gone after the vanity of their own hearts, after Baalim, and the images of Baal, which they have learned of their fathers.” We see here plainly the contempt of God’s word, and of the preachers of the same, walking after their covetous minds and lewdness of their hearts, and following of their idolatrous inventions, brought the wrath of God upon the people, as witnessed also Jesus Sirach, saying, “Because of unrighteous dealing, wrong, blasphemies, and divers deceits, a realm shall be translated from one people to another.” (Ecclesiasticus 10) And a little after he saith, “The Lord hath brought the congregation of the wicked to dishonor, and destroyed them unto the end. God hath destroyed the seats of proud princes, and set up the meek in their stead. God hath withered the root of proud nations, and planted the lowly among them. God hath overthrown the lands of the heathen, and destroyed them unto the ground. He hath caused them to wither away: he hath brought them to nought, and made the memorial of them to cease from the earth.”

    But what availeth it to read such threats of God, if we believe them not; or, if we believe them to be God’s threats, and despise them?

    Doubtless, the Lord is righteous, a jealous God, a punisher of sin, as he himself saith: “I punish the sins of the fathers upon their children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me.” (Exodus 20.) God give us grace to remember this, and with speedy and unfeigned repentance to turn unto God. I say “unfeigned repentance,” and not, alas! as we have done in times past, like hypocrites to dissemble with God and man, making God’s holy word nothing else but a cloak to cover our malice, covetousness, whoredom, pride, excess, gluttony, wrath, envy, hatred, murder, with all other wicked living, most detestable in the sight of God. If men will well consider themselves, they have long enough dissembled, and heaped the wrath of God heavy enough upon their heads, It is now high time to become a new people, to amend indeed, and to follow the counsel of the Holy Ghost, saying unto us by the prophet Jeremy, “Why do mortal men murmur against God? let them murmur against their own sins.” (Jeremiah 3.) Let us search our own ways, and let us seek and return unto the Lord. Let us lift up our hearts and hands unto the Lord in heaven, for we have done wickedly, and provoked the Lord to wrath: and therefore wilt thou not be entreated. Doubtless, the Lord will not be entreated, except men very earnestly turn unto him. We have felt in ourselves, and seen before our eyes, that when God striketh, no man can be able to abide the heavy stroke of his fist. He hath hitherto corrected us with mercy, as a Father; let us thank him, and return unfeignedly; so will he not extend his wrath as a Judge. His will is, that we should return and live, and not perish with the wicked. “I live,” saith the Lord, “and will not the death of a sinner, but that he converted and live.”(Ezekiel 33.) Here the godly oath certifieth us of forgiveness; and requireth an unfeigned conversion unto God, that is, that men acknowledge in heart their wicked living, and be sorry that ever they have with wicked living offended against that so good and loving a Father; and trust to have forgiveness through Christ’s blood, and fully and firmly set their hearts to serve God, and to walk the ways of his commandments all the days of their life. Then shall we be true Christians, built upon the corner-stone Christ, not wavering or changing at every puff of wind, not seeking an epicurish life in all voluptuous and vain vanity: not ravening, extortioning, or with usury oppressing the poor and needy; but steadfast, unmovable, living in the fear of God’s judgments, and trust upon his mercy, mortifying our brutish and carnal lusts, being merciful and helpful to the poor and needy, waiting for the blessed time when Christ shall call us, to he ready and accepted before him. Our merciful Lord and good Father grant us grace so to do, for the love of his dear Son Jesus Christ, our certain and most dear Savior, to whom with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all honor for ever and ever, Amen. “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116.) “These are they which are come out of great troubles; and have washed their clothes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” (Revelation 6.)

    CERTAIN CAUTIONS OF THE AUTHOR TO THE READER, OF THINGS TO BE CONSIDERED IN READING. THIS STORY.

    Amongst other escapes and oversights in the edition of this story committed, part of them we leave to thine own gentle castigation, gentle reader: certain other specialties there be, whereof we thought it good and expedient to give thee warning, as hereafter followeth.

    First, when mention is made of Peter’s being at Rome, and suffering at Rome, following certain authors; yet forasmuch as other writers there be, and reasons to prove that he was not at Rome, I desire therefore that this my affirmation may not prejudice other men’s judgments, if any see or can say further in that matter.

    Touching the story of the Turks, whereas I, in following our christian authors writing of the Turks, have noted Solyman to be the twelfth Turk after Ottoman, as they do all record; I have found since, by the computation of the Turks set forth in the table of their own descent, the said Solyman to be the sixth emperor of the Turks; and this 8olyman his son, which now reigneth, to be but the twelfth. Which I thought here to signify unto thee, because of their own Turkish prophecy noted before, lest, in construing of that prophecy, being in the same place expounded, thou be deceived. Item, Where master George Blage is named to be one of the privychamber; here is to be noted also, that although he were not admitted as one of the privy-chamber, yet his ordinary resort thither, and to the king’s presence there was such, as, although he were not one of them, yet was he so commonly taken. Item, In the story of the duke of Somerset, where it is said, that at the return of the earl of Warwick out of Norfolk, there was a consultation amongst the lords assembling themselves together in the house of master York, etc. against the duke of Somerset; here is to be noted that the coming of the lords to the said house of master York, was not immediately upon the duke of Northumberland’s return; but first he went to Warwick, and from thence, after a space, came to the house aforesaid. Item, Here is also to be noted touching the said duke of Somerset, that albeit at his death relation is made of a sudden falling of the people, as was at the taking of Christ, this is not to be expounded, as though I compared in any part the duke of Somerset with Christ.

    And though I do something more attribute to the commendation of the said duke of Somerset, which died so constantly in his religion, yet I desire thee, gentle reader, so to take it, not that I did ever mean to derogate or impair the martial praise or facts of other men, which also are to be commended in such things where they well deserved. Item, Touching the same duke of Somerset, where the story saith, he was “attainted,” read “indicted.” Item, Where mention is made of one Nicholas Underwood to be the betrayer of the duke of Suffolk; join with the said Underwood also Nicholas Laurence, alias Nicholas Ethel, keeper of Astley-park; who, taking upon him and promising to keep the duke for two or three days, until he might find some means to escape, conveyed him into an hollow tree, and after, most traitorously betrayed hint. Item, In the story of sir Thomas Wyat there is also to be corrected, that whereas the story saith, that he was taken by sir Clement Parson, which was not so, and he no such knight, amend it thus: “that he first came to Clarencius, being sent unto him, and afterward yielded him to sir Maurice Barkley” Briefly and in general, besides these castigations above noted, if thou find any other committed in the printing hereof, gently I desire thee, gentle reader, to bestow a little pains with thine own hand to amend them.

    NOTES OMITTED OF THEM THAT WERE BURNT AT BRISTOL.

    The eighth day of August was brought William Saxton, weaver of Bristol, before one Dalby chancellor of Bristol aforesaid; and by him committed to prison, and also condemned, for holding that the sacrament was a sign of a holy thing: also he denied, that the flesh and blood of Christ is there after their words of consecration, lie was burnt the 18th of September, anno 1556, and as he went to the fire, he sang psalms, The sheriff, John Griffith, had prepared green wood to burn him; but one master John Pikes, pitying the man, caused divers to go with him to Ridland, half a mile off, who brought good store of helme-sheaves, which indeed made good dispatch with little pain, in comparison to that he should have suffered with the green wood. In the mean space, whilst they went for the sheaves, the said Saxton made many good exhortations to the people, and after died constantly and patiently with great joyfulness.

    A NOTE OF PREST’S WIFE OF EXETER.

    In Cornwall, not far from Launceston, within the diocese of Exeter, in queen Mary’s days, dwelt a poor man, whose name was Prest; his wife being an honest woman, very simple, but of good zeal and upright life, being taught by God in hearing of his word (albeit it was in those days very seldom preached any where); and feeling a sweet taste thereof, framed her life anew after the rule of the same; and banished quite from her all the popish dregs of superstition and hypocrisy, and gave herself wholly to prayer, and invocating the name of God, both for the afflicted church of Christ, in those days very dangerously tossed and turmoiled; as also for her own inward contentation and spiritual consolation, which she not a little felt to her unspeakable joy and incomparable comfort. And when some, who before had known her, saw that marvelous change in her, and (as the cruel serpent) envied her felicity, they went upon the same immediately, and accused her to certain justices of the shire, being extreme enemies to the truth, and very persecutors of the same; who, talking the matter in hand, as very glad of such occasion, sent for her to the place where she was, and began at the second, if not at the first dash, to demand her belief in their popish sacrament of the altar.

    The good poor woman, who had learned not to be ashamed to confess her Master Christ before men, and to render account of her faith when it was asked, told freely and frankly her opinion therein, and hid back nothing that either she thought might profit them, if they had any grace to receive it, or else might sound to God’s glory and praise, though it were never so much by them threatened and rebuked. Whereupon she was forthwith committed to the gaol of Launceston, where she remained a quarter of a year, or thereabouts; and afterwards was dispatched of that vile and filthy prison, and delivered over to the hands of two champions of the pope’s, the one called Dr. Raynolds, dean of Exeter, and the other named master Blaxton, treasurer of the same church; men surely fervent hot in the furtherance of the Romish affairs, and in withstanding the truth of the pure evangelical gospel. So the time that this good poor woman was under their hands, she had many sore conflicts by them. And the said Blaxton having a concubine, which sundry times resorted to him with other of his gossips, always when they came, this said good woman was called forth to his house; and there, to make his minion with the rest of his company some mirth, he would examine her with such mocking manner, deriding the truth, that it would have vexed any christian soul to have seen it. Then when he had long used his foolishness in this sort, and had sported himself enough in deriding this christian martyr, in the end he sent her to prison again, and there kept her very miserably, saving sometimes he would send for her, when his foresaid guest came to him, to use with her his accustomed folly aforesaid. But in fine, the vile wretches (after many combats and scoffing persuasions), wherein they played the part of a cat with a mouse, at length they condemned her, and delivered her over to the secular power, who within short space after most cruelly brought her forth to the place where she should suffer; and there, in great contempt of the truth (which she most constantly confessed), they consumed her carcass immediately with fire into ashes; which she very patiently suffered and most joyfully received, yielding her soul and life unto the Lord, and her body to the tormentors; for the which the Lord’s name therefore be praised, Amen.

    THE MARTYRDOM OF ONE SNEL, BURNT ABOUT RICHMOND IN QUEEN MARY’S TIME, OMITTED IN THIS HISTORY.

    At Bedale, a market town in Yorkshire, were two men in the latter days of queen Mary, the one named John Snel and the other Richard Snel; who, being suspected f0r religion, were sent unto Richmond, where Dr. Dakins had commission from the bishop of Chester, to have the examination of them.

    This Dr. Dakins many times conferred with them, sometimes threatening fire and faggot, if they would not recant, and sometimes flattering them with fair fables if they would return into the holy catholic church. But they stood constantly to the sure rock Jesus Christ, in whom they put their whole trust and confidence, whilst at last, being so sore imprisoned that their toes rotted off, and the one of them could not go without crutches, they brought them to the church by compulsion, where the one of them heard their abominable mass, having a certain sum of money given him by the benevolence of the people, and so departed thence: but the first news that was heard of hint within three or four days, was, that he had drowned himself in a river running by Richmond, called Swaile.

    Immediately after, Dr. Dakins giving sentence that the other should be burnt, came home to his house and never joyed after, but died. The commissary of Richmond, named Hillings, preached at his burning, exhorting him to return to the church; but his labor was in vain, the constant martyr standing strongly to the faith which he professed.

    Then, being brought to the stake, whereunto he was tied by a girdle of iron, there was given unto him gunpowder, and a little straw was laid under his feet and set round about with small wood and tarbarrels; the fire was put in the straw, which by and by flaming about his head, he cried thrice together, “Christ help me:” insomuch that one Robert Atkinson being present, said, “Hold fast there, and we will all pray for thee!” Thus this blessed martyr ended his life.

    A STORY OF ONE LAREMOUTH, OMITTED IN THIS HISTORY.

    Albeit I am loth to insert any thing in this book which may seem incredible or strange to ordinary working for quarrelling adversaries, which do nothing but spy what they may cavil: yet, forsomuch as besides other reporters, the person is yet alive, called Thorne, a godly minister, which heard it of the mouth of the party himself, I thought therefore, first, for the incredible strangeness thereof, neither to place this story in the body of these Acts and Monuments, and yet in some out-corner of the book not utterly to pass it untouched, for the reader to consider it, and to credit it as he seeth cause. The story is this: There was one Laremouth, otherwise called Williamson, chaplain to the lady Anne of Cleve, a Scottishman, to whom being in prison in queen Mary’s days, it was said (as he thought) thus sounding in his ears, “Arise and go thy ways.” Whereunto, when he gave no great heed at the first, the second time it was said! to him again, in the same words. Upon this, as he fell to his prayers, it was said the third time likewise to him, “Arise and go thy ways;” which was about half’ an hour after. So he arising upon the same, immediately a piece of the prison wall fell down, and as the officers came in at the outward gate of the castle or prison, he, leaping over the ditch, escaped, and in the way, meeting a certain beggar, changed his coat with him, and coming to the sea-shore, where he found a vessel ready to go over, was taken in, and escaped the search, which was straitly laid for him in all the country over.

    A little short Letter of William Hunter, sent out of Prison to his Mother a little before his Martyrdom, to be referred and placed in his Story.

    Most reverend and loving mother, after my most humble wise I have me most heartily commended unto you, desiring you to pray unto God most heartily for me, that I may have his blessing and yours, the which I esteem more worth unto me than any worldly treasure. In this present letter you shall understand the cause of my writing unto you at this time, that I am in good health and prosperity, as ever I was in this present life. Wherefore I render thanks unto Almighty God for it, who alone is most worthy of all praise, trusting in God you be in health also. Furthermore, I certify you wherefore my father continueth here, to the intent to hear some godly and joyful tidings both for soul and body, which I trust it shall be to your singular comfort and consolation, and to the great rejoicing of all other of my friends. Therefore I desire you, gentle mother, to admonish my brother unto a godly life with diligent attendance, and to pray for me, considering his bounden duty, that God may, by your faithful prayer, aid and strengthen me in this my prosperous journey and course which I run, trusting to obtain a crown of everlasting life, which doth ever endure. — No more unto you at this time, but God preserve you unto everlasting life.

    So be it.

    The Oration in Effect of Sir Nicholas Bacon Knight, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England, spoken in the Star Chamber the 29th of December, in the tenth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lady Elizabeth, by the Grace of God of England, France and Ireland, Queen, Defender of the Faith, etc. And in the Year of our Lord God 1567: then being present as under:- Matthew , archbishop of Canterbury.

    William , marquis of Northampton.

    Francis , earl of Bedford.

    Lord Clinton , admiral of England.

    William Howard , lord chamberlain.

    The bishop of London .

    Lord Grey of Wilton.

    Sir Edward Rogers knight.

    Sir Ambrose Cave knight, chancellor of the duchy.

    Sir William Cecil knight, principal secretary.

    Sir Francis Knollis knight, vice-chamberlain.

    Sir Walter Mildmay knight, chancellor of the Exchequer.

    Lord Cattelene , chief justice of the King’s Bench.

    Lord Dyer , chief justice of the Common Pleas.

    Sir William Cordell knight, master of the Rolls.

    Justice Western , justice Welsh, justice Southcote, justice Carms.

    It is given to the queen’s majesty to understand, that certain of her subjects, by their evil dispositions, do sow and spread abroad divers seditions, to the derogation and dishonor, first of Almighty God, in the state of religion stablished by the laws of this realm, and also to the dishonor of her highness, in disproving her lawful right of supremacy amongst her subjects. And this that they do, is not done as in secrecy or by stealth but openly avouched, and in all companies disputed on. And thus, by their bold attempts, they seem-not to obey or regard the authority of laws, nor the quiet of her subjects. As for example, by bringing in and spreading abroad divers lewd libels and seditious books from beyond the seas; and in such boldness, that they do commend those writers in their seditious books, containing manifest matter against the estate established. Which boldness of men, so universally and every where seen and heard, cannot be thought to be done but by the comfort and aid, or at the least way winked at by them whom the queen’s highness hath placed in authority to repress these insolencies. And the queen’s highness cannot more justly charge any for this disorder, than such who be in commissions chosen to repress these disorders.

    If it be answered me, that they cannot see such open boldness and factious disorders, I must say that they have no eyes to see; and if they hear not of such contemptuous talk and speech, I may say that they have no ears. I would have those men judge what will come of these unbridled speeches in the end, if reformations be not had thereof. What cometh of factions and seditions, we have been taught of late years, and what the fruits thereof be, which I beseech God long to defend us from. If such disorders he not redressed by law, then must force and violence reform: which when they take place, may fortune to fall as soon on them that seem to have least consideration in this matter. If force and violence prevail, then ye know that law is put to silence, and cannot be executed, which should only maintain good order. If it be replied against me, that to the suppressing of these open talks there is no law, which by special letter can charge any man offender; I must say, that whatsoever the letter of the law be, the meaning of the law was and is clean contrary to the liberty of these doings. If it be said, that no man can be charged by the law, except it can be proved against him, that his speech and deeds be done maliciously; what ye call malice, I cannot tell. But, if the bringing in of these seditious books make men’s minds to be at variance one with another, distraction of minds maketh seditions, seditions bring ill tumults, tumults work insurrections and rebellion, insurrections make depopulations and desolations, and bring in utter ruin and destruction of men’s bodies, goods, and lands: and if any sow the root whereof these men come, and yet it can be said that he hath no malice, or that he doth not maliciously labor to destroy both public and private wealth, I cannot tell what act may be thought to be done maliciously.

    And further, if it be said to me, that the man which should be charged with offense, must be proved to have done his act advisedly: to that I answer, If any bring in those books, distribute them to others, commend and defend them, and yet cannot be charged to have done advisedly, I have no skill of their advisedness.

    If it be said, that the law entreateth of such acts as be directly derogatory, and of none other, what is direct overthwarting the law, when the contrary thereof is plainly treated, holden, and defended; and the truth by arguments condemned? It may be said again, that the world doth not now like extremity in laws penal, and calleth them bloody laws. As for extreme and bloody laws, I have never liked of them; but where the execution of such laws toucheth half a dozen offenders, and the non-execution may bring in danger half a hundred, I think this law nor the execution thereof may justly be called extreme and bloody. In such like comparison I may utter my meaning, as to make a difference between whipping and hanging.

    Indeed, though whipping may be thought extreme, yet if, by whipping, a man may escape hanging, in this respect, not-whipping bringeth in this bloodiness and extremity, and not the execution of the law; and better it were, a man to be twice whipped, than once hanged: the pains do differ, but wise men will soon consider the diversity. The truth is, to suffer disobedient subjects to take boldness against the laws of God and their prince, to wink at the obstinate minds of such as be unbridled in their affections; to maintain a foreign power of the bishop of Rome, directly against the prince’s prerogative stablished by laws, is not this to hatch dissension, and to cherish sedition? To extol the writings of such, who by all their wits devise to supplant the prince’s lawful authority? If these doings be not means to the disturbance and utter ruin of this realm, I know not what is good governance. If these be not the sparks of rebellion, what be they?

    Thus much having spoken to your wisdoms, I doubt not of your assenting with me; the rather also because I utter them unto you as from the queen’s majesty by commandment, who doth require of us all a more diligence in execution of laws, than is spied commonly abroad: whereby we shall do our duties to Almighty God the better, declare our allegiance to our sovereign, regard the majesty of the laws, love the quiet of our country, and procure the safety of ourselves. God save the queen.

    And here I trust, we are now come to an end of all our English martyrs which hitherto have been burnt for the verity of the gospel, if we add besides to the same a godly countryman of ours, one named Richard Atkins, a Hertfordshire man, who of late, about two years past, in the reign of this our gracious queen, anno 1581, most miserably was tormented at Babylon, that is, in the city of Rome. The cause and manner of whose suffering and martyrdom here ensue, taken out of a certain late printed story, and testified by such as were present, witnesses and beholders of the same most tragical execution. The purport of which story in words as it is put down by the said reporter, hereunder followeth.

    A TRUE REPORT OF THE HORRIBLE AND MERCILESS MARTYRDOM OF ONE RICHARD ATKINS, AN ENGLISHMAN, WITH EXTREME TORMENTS, AND MOST CRUEL RAGE OF FURIOUS TYRANTS, PERSECUTORS, PUT TO DEATH AT ROME. f605 About the month of July, anno 1581, one Richard Atkins, born in Hertfordshire, an Englishman, came to Rome, and having found the English college, knocked at the door; to whom divers of the students there came out, to welcome him, understanding that he was an Englishman. Among other talk had with him they willed him to go to the hospital, and there to receive his meat and lodging, according as the order was appointed: whereunto he answered, “I come not, my countrymen, to any such intent, as you judge; but I come lovingly to rebuke the great misorder of your lives, which I grieve to hear, and pity to behold. I come likewise to let your proud Antichrist understand, that he doth offend the heavenly majesty, rob God of his honor, and poisoneth the whole world with his abominable blasphemies; making them do homage to stocks and stones, and that filthy sacrament, which is nothing else but a foolish idol.” When they heard these words, one Hugh Griffin, a Welchman, and student in the college, caused him to be put in the Inquisition; where, how they examined him, and how he answered them I know not, but after certain days he was set at liberty again. And one day, going in the street, he met a priest carrying the sacrament, which offending his conscience, to see the people so crouch and bow down to it, he caught at it to have thrown it down; but, missing of his purpose, and it being judged by the people, that he did catch at the holiness that (they say) cometh from the sacrament, upon mere devotion, he was let pass, and nothing said to him. A few days after he came to St. Peter’s church, where divers gentlemen and others were hearing mass, and the priest at the elevation; he using no reverence, stepped among the people to the altar, and threw down the chalice with the wine, striving likewise to have pulled the cake out of the priest’s hands; for which divers rose up and beat him with their fists, and one drew his rapier, and would have slain him: so that in brief, he was carried to prison, where he was examined wherefore he had committed such a heinous offense: whereunto he answered, that he came purposely for that intent, to rebuke the pope’s wickedness, and their idolatry. Upon this he was condemned to be burned; which sentence, he said, he was right willing to suffer, and the rather because the sum of his offense pertained to the glory of God.

    During the time he remained in prison, sundry Englishmen came unto him, willing him to be sorry for that he had done, and to recant from his damnable opinion; but all the means they used were in vain, he confuted their dealings by divers places of scripture, and willed them to be sorry for their wickedness, while God did permit them time; else they were in danger of everlasting damnation. These words made the Englishmen depart; for they could not abide to hear them.

    Within a while after, he was set upon an ass without any saddle, he being from the middle upward naked, having some English priests with him to talk with him; but he regarded them not, but spoke to the people in so good language as he could, and told them they were in a wrong way, and therefore willed them, for Christ’s sake, to have regard to the saving of their souls. All the way as he went, there were four that did nothing else but thrust at his body with burning torches, whereat he never moved, nor shrunk one jot, but with a cheerful countenance labored to persuade the people, often bending his body to meet the torches, as they were thrust at him; and would take them in his own hand, and hold them burning still upon his body, whereat the people not a little wondered. Thus he continued almost the space of half a mile, till he came before St.

    Peter’s, where the place of execution was.

    When he was come to the place of execution, there they had made a device, not to make the fire about him, but to burn his legs first, which they did, he not dismayed any whir, but suffering all marvelously cheerfully; which moved the people to such a quandary as was not in Rome many a day. Then they offered him a cross, and willed him to embrace it, in token that he died a Christian; but he put it away with his hand, telling them that they were evil men, to trouble him with such paltry, when he was preparing himself to God, whom he beheld in majesty and-mercy, ready to receive him into eternal rest. They seeing him in this mind, departed, saying, “Let us go and leave him to the devil, whom he serves.” Thus ended this faithful soldier and martyr of Christ, who is, no doubt, in glory with his Master: whereunto God grant us all to come, Amen.

    This is faithfully avouched by John Young, who was at that time and a good while after in Rome, in service with master doctor Morton; who seeing the martyrdom of this man, when he came home to his house, in presence of master Smith his son, master Creed, and the said John Young, spoke as followeth: “Surely this fellow was marvelous obstinate, he nothing regarded the good counsel which was used to him, nor shrank all the way when the torches were thrust at his naked body. Beside, in the place of execution he did not faint nor cry one jot in the fire, albeit they tormented him very cruelly, and burnt him by degrees, as his legs first, to put him to the greater pain; yet all this he did but smile at. Doubtless, but that the word of God cannot but be true, else we might judge this fellow to be of God; for who could have suffered so much pain as he did? but truly I believe the devil was in him.

    THE CURSED LIFE, AND BLOODY END, OF DR. STORY, A CRUEL PERSECUTOR OF CHRIST IN HIS MEMBERS.

    I had thought, christian reader, here to have made an end, and to have concluded the volume of this book, had not the remembrance of Dr. Story, an arch-enemy to Christ’s gospel, and bloody persecutor of God’s people, come into my mind. The discourse of whose life and doings, I thought good hem briefly to lay open to the view of the world, as followeth. This Dr. Story, being an Englishman by birth, and from his infancy not only nursed in papistry, but also even as it were by nature earnestly affected to the same, and growing somewhat to riper years, in the days of queen Mary became a bloody tyrant, and cruel persecutor of Christ in his members; as all the stories in this book almost do declare. Thus he raging all the reign a417 of the foresaid queen Mary against the infallible truth of Christ’s gospel, and the true professors thereof, never ceased till he had consumed to ashes two or three hundred blessed martyrs, who willingly gave their lives for the testimony of his truth. And thinking their punishment in the fire not cruel enough, he went about to invent new torments for the holy martyrs of Christ, such was his hatred to the truth of Christ’s gospel. But, in the end, the Lord God, looking upon the affliction and cruel bloodshedding of his servants, took away queen Mary, the great pillar of papistry. After whom succeeded lady Elizabeth, now queen of England, who staying the bloody sword of persecution from raging any further, caused the same Dr. Story to be apprehended, and committed to ward, with many other his complices, sworn enemies to Christ’s glorious gospel.

    The said Story, having been a while detained in prison, at the last, by what means I know not, brake forth of hold, and conveyed himself over the seas, where he continued a most bloody persecutor, still raging against God’s saints with fire and sword. Insomuch as he, growing to be familiar and right dear to the duke of Alva in Antwerp, received special commission from him to search the ships for goods forfeited, and for English books, and such like.

    And in this favor and authority, he continued there for a space, by the which means he did much hurt, and brought many a good man and woman to trouble and extreme peril of life through his blood-thirsty cruelty: but at the last the Lord (when the measure of his iniquity was full) proceeded in judgment against him, and cut him off from the face of the earth, according to the prayers of many a good man; which came to pass in order as followeth. It being certainly known (for the bruit thereof was gone forth into all lands) that he not only intended the subversion and overthrow of his native country of England, by bringing in foreign hostility, if by any means he might compass it; but also daily and hourly murdered God’s people, there was this platform laid (by God’s providence no doubt), that one master Parker, a merchant, should sail unto Antwerp, and by some means convey Story into England.

    This Parker arriving at Antwerp, suborned certain to repair to Dr. Story, and to signify unto him, that there was an English ship come, fraught with merchandise, and that if he would make search thereof himself, he should find store of English books, and other things for his purpose. Story, hearing this, and suspecting nothing, made haste towards the ship, thinking to make the same his prey; and coming abroad, searched for English heretical books (as he called them); and going down under the hatches, because he would be sure to have their blood if he could, they clapped down the hatches, hoisted up their sails, having (as God would) a good gale, and sailed away into England; where they arriving, presented this bloody butcher, and traitorous rebel Story, to the no little rejoicing of many an English heart. He, being now committed to prison, continued there a good space: during all which time he was labored and solicited daily, by wise and learned fathers, to recant his devilish and erroneous opinions, to conform himself to the truth, and to acknowledge the queen’s supremacy. All which he utterly denied to the death, saying, that he was sworn subject to the king of .Spain, and was no subject to the queen of England, nor she his sovereign queen; and therefore (as he well deserved) he was condemned as a traitor to God, the queen’s majesty, and the realm, to be drawn, hanged, and quartered; which was performed accordingly, he being laid upon a hurdle, and drawn from the Tower along the streets to Tyburn, where he, being hanged till he was half dead, was cut down and stripped; and (which is no[ to be forgotten) when the executioner had performed his last office, he, rushing up upon a sudden, gave him a blow upon the ear, to the great wonder of all that stood by. And thus ended this bloody Nimrod his wretched life, whose judgment I leave to the Lord. *QUEEN MARY’S SCOURGE OF PERSECUTION.

    Considering the great and terrible scourge of persecution in the time of queen Mary, and recounting the number of them that, under some part or other of the cross, were at that time afflicted and molested, I suppose from the highest to the lowest under the queen herself, no condition, state, degree, age, or calling of person or persons, can be reckoned, which, at the same time, escaped free and untouched without some print of the Lord’s cross upon him. In the number and catalogue of whom, first, to begin with the most noble and renowned, the only sister of the queen herself, also the only and next heir then, now just possessor of the crown of England, queen Elizabeth (whose shoulders sustained then no small portion of that cross of Christ), and so, from her majesty, descending to all and singular states inferior; what vocation or condition here was excepted! whether he or they were archbishop, duchess, bishops, archdeacons, deans, priests, ministers, deacons, gentlemen, lawyers, merchants, artificers, soldiers, rich, poor men, women, wife, widow, virgin, old men, young men, boys, infants, blind, halt, and lame — and what state else can be reckoned of men, which, from some touch of this scourge, was exempted — and so, what condition, I say, of men escaped the papists’ hands, in the time of queen Mary, without affliction and danger: insomuch that, coming to the lowest of all other, one poor hermit (being but one then, as I think, in all the realm), could not pass their hands without open penance and other molestations, as, in the story here following, to the reader may appear.

    THE EXAMINATION AND TROUBLE OF THOMAS PARKINSON, A SELY POOR HERMIT, DRIVEN TO OPEN PENANCE BY THE PAPISTS.

    In the last year of queen Mary, anno 1558, Thomas Parkinson, of the diocese of Coventry and Lichfield, being of the sect of Anchorite, was producted before Dr. Draycot, upon the suspicion to have a wife: he was examined as followeth. Being asked what age he is now of, he saith, that he shall be, at Whitsuntide next, seventy years old, and was born and christened in a town called Bedale in Yorkshire; and was son to one Thomas Parkinson, bailiff of Thirsk in the same county of York; and when he was twelve years old, he was set to the tailor’s craft, to one Thomas Dent, of Thirsk, and served him for seven or eight years, as his apprentice: and, alter that, before he was twenty years old he took to wife, one Agnes, the daughter of Hugh Hallywell, dwelling in the franchise of Ripon, being a maid of twenty-four years; and was married to her in Thirsk, by one sir William Day, then curate there; and, within two years after their marriage together, his wife was delivered of a man-child, which, although while it was in her body, did stir and live (as she and other perceived), yet, after the birth, it was dead, so as it could not be christened; insomuch as the midwife, and other women with her, buried the said child, as they said, in the fields — where, he (this examinate) cannot tell. And, within three weeks after, it chanced that a raven had gotten up the said child out of the ground, and torn the clothes from about the same child, and had begun to break into the said child, to feed upon; and had brought it into a tree, near unto the churchyard of Thirsk, upon a Saturday, a little before even-song time. And, as the people and the priest before-named saw the same child, they made means to drive away the raven, and to get the child from him; so as they, reasoning among themselves whose child it should be, did judge that it was this examinate’s child that was dead-born, and buried in the fields. And the said William Day came home to this examinate and asked him for his child, and he showed him that the women had buried it in the fields, which the priest also examined of the women, and found it to be true; and then he showed this examinate of the bringing of the child by the raven. Whereupon this examinate and his wife were therewithal stricken with repentance to Godward, and each of them vowed themselves from thenceforth to live chaste and solitary, insomuch as, this examinate, when he was but twenty-two or twenty-three years old, professed the order of Saint Francis at Richmond, five miles from Madlam, and was a hermit or penitentiary at Thirsk, and kept the chapel of Saint Giles at the end of the town of Thirsk. And his wife also was sister of Saint Francis’s order, and had a bead-woman’s room at Northallerton, by the help of sir James Strange-ways, knight; and after he had kept the order of Saint Francis two or three years, he determined to live a more hard and strait life, and to be an Anchorite, and to seclude himself from the company of the world. And, thereupon, he was first closed up in a little house in the church-porch at Thirsk, where he lived, by the help of good people, two years, before he was professed; and when it was perceived that he liked that kind of life and could endure the same. there was a chapel, and a place provided for him in the Mount of Grace, above the Charter-house, by queen Katherine, and he was professed in that house by one Dr. Makerel, then suffragan to cardinal Wolsey, and the suffragan had of this examinate’s friends, for his profession, five pound; and there this examinate remained twelve years and more in that house, and his wife would sometime take one of his sisters, and come over and see how this examinate did; but she died six or seven years before this examinate came out of his house: and, after this, came doctor Lee, and he pulled this examinate out of his house, and the monks also out of the charter-house, so as this examinate was driven to go abroad to get his living of good people; and when he could get any work to get a penny, to take it: howbeit he kept his habit still. Then he went to London, and there was amongst his friends, that had seen him at Mount Grace; and thence he went to Lincolnshire, thinking to have the Anchorite’s house at Stamford, but it would not be as then. He was counseled by sir John Harrington, then sheriff, a418 to change his habit from grey, which he then ware, to black; and so he wandered from place to place in a black habit like a priest. And at length, about nine years past he came into Shropshire, to Bridgenorth, and there, by chance, fell in acquaintance with one Elizabeth, which was wife to one William Romney, a tinker, that died there. And, forsomuch as he had in these days both punishment and trouble, for declaring himself a professed man to the order of an Anchorite, and was plainly showed that it was against God’s commandment that any man should make any such vow, he therefore, in that point, being partly persuaded, and crediting the same, was the rather moved to desire the said Elizabeth Romney to be his wife; and she thereunto agreeing, they were married together about six years past in the chapel, within the castle of Bridgenorth, by one sir William Malpas, that is now dead. And so they dwelled together in the lower town of Bridgenorth, this examinate using the tailor’s craft, and went abroad into the country to get his living and his wife’s, and came not home some time for a month together. Being asked what moved him to marry, he said that he was foul troubled with vermin, and had no help of washing and tending, as was requisite, nor had any house to be in; and so made his moan to this woman; and then she being troubled as she said with certain unruly children of hers, and could not be quiet for them, was content to go with this examinate, and to be his wife.

    Being asked if he knew her not carnally, as men do their wives, utterly denieth the same; and sayeth that it was not meant of any of them. Being asked how he chanced to come to this town, he saith that he was moved in conscience to the observance of his former profession, now, since the queen’s reign; and the hiring of this house here at Stow, where an anchorite had been before, made means to my lady Gifford of his intent, not declaring anything that he was married; and the said lady Gifford wrote to sir T. Fitzherbert, to move the lord bishop in his favor, and so the said sir Thomas did, and gat my lord’s favor in that behalf. Being asked, if my lord did, of new, profess him into the religion, he saith, nay; but did put him into the house, and restored him to his former religion and profession.

    Being asked where his wife was, when he came hither to be closed up, he said, she was at Bridgenorth, and knew nothing of his mind that he purposed to return to his religion; howbeit he showed her that he would go to Lichfield; and then about Whitsuntide last she came hither to hearken for this examinate. And he said, that it was communed between him and her, that she should go to Worcester and be an anchoress there, but that she fell sick and was not able to go. Again, being asked when she was last with him, he said that she was with him upon Palm Sunday last, and had nothing to do or say to him, but ask him how he did. They asked moreover what moved her to come to town that day: to whom she said, that she came for her clothes that were in the town here. Furthermore they asked’ him who there he showed sir Thomas Fitzherbert that he was married. He said, nay, but showed him that he had a sister, which was a poor woman, and was desirous that she should attend him; which was the said Elizabeth that he married at Bridgenorth. For this cause the papists, suspecting the poor hermit to have a wife (as he had indeed), therefore, after other molestations, enjoined him penance: — to go before the cross barefoot, and bare-legged, in the cathedral church of Lich-field, with a taper, and I cannot tell what, in his hand, etc.; and, at Easter, cast him into a close cabin, there to remain, till he heard more of the bishop’s pleasure.* A NOTE OF RALPH LURDANE, PERSECUTOR OR GEORGE EAGLES.

    In the history of George Eagles, alias Trudgeover-the-World, mention is made of his apprehension in a corn-field, where, by the benefit of the height of the corn, and breadth of the field, he had escaped, had not one of his persecutors, with more malicious craft, climbed a high tree to view over the place, and so descried him. This persecutor, named Ralph Lurdane (as we have since learned), a lewd fellow of life for theft and whoredam, was, within few years after he had apprehended the foresaid George Eagles for gain of money, attached of felony for stealing a horse, condemned, and hanged in the same place and town of Chelmsford, where George Eagles before suffered martyrdom.

    A BRIEF NOTE CONCERNING THE HORRIBLE MASSACRE IN FRANCE A419 ANNO. 1572.

    Here, before the closing up of this book, in no ease would be unremembered the tragical and furious massacre in France, wherein were murdered so many hundreds and thousands of God’s good martyrs. But because the true narration of this lamentable story is set forth in English at large, in a book by itself, and extant in print already, it shall the less need now to discourse that matter with any new repetition; only a brief touch of summary notes for remembrance may suffice. And first, for brevity’ sake to overpass the bloody butchery of the Romish catholics in Orange against the protestants, most fiercely and unawares breaking into their houses, and there, without mercy, killing man, woman, and child; of whom some being spoiled and naked they threw out of their lofts into the streets; some they smothered in their houses with smoke, with sword and weapon sparing none, the carcasses of some they threw to dogs, which was anno 1570, in the reign of Charles the ninth. Likewise to pass over the cruel slaughter at Rouen, where the protestants being at a sermon without the city-walls upon the king’s edict, the catholics in fury ran upon them coming home, and slew of them above forty at least; many more they wounded. This example at Rouen stirred up the papists in Dieppe to practice the like rage also against the Christians there returning from the sermon; whose slaughter had been the greater, had they not more wisely before been provided of weapons for their own defense at need: all which happened about the same year aforesaid, anno 1570. But these with such like I briefly overslip, to enter now into the matter above promised, that is, briefly to entreat of the horrible and most barbarous massacre wrought in Paris, such as I suppose was never heard of before, in any civil dissension amongst the very heathen. In few wards to touch the substance of the matter.

    After long troubles in France, the catholic side, foreseeing no good to be done against the protestants by open force, began to devise how by crafty means to entrap them, land that by two manner of ways: the one by pretending a power to be sent into the lower country, whereof the admiral to be the captain; not that the king so meant indeed, but only to understand thereby what power and force the admiral had under him, who they were, and what were their names. The second was by a certain marriage suborned, between the prince of Navarre and the king’s sister. f611 To this pretensed marriage, it was devised that all the chiefest protestants of France should be invited, and meet in Paris. Among whom first they began with the queen of Navarre, mother to the prince that should marry the king’s sister, attempting by all means possible to obtain her consent thereunto. She, being then at Rochelle, and allured by many fair words to repair unto the king, consented at length to come, and was received at Paris; where she, after much ado, at length being won to the king’s mind, and providing for the marriage, shortly upon the same fell sick, and within five days departed, not without suspicion, as some said, of poison. But her body being opened, no sign of poison could there be found, save only that a certain apothecary made his brag, that he had killed the queen by certain venomous odors and smells by him confected.

    After this, notwithstanding, the marriage still going forward, the admiral, the prince of Navarre, Conde, with divers other chief states of the protestants, induced by the king’s letters and many fair promises, at last were brought to Paris; where with great solemnity they were received, but especially the admiral. To make the matter short, the day of the marriage came, which was the 18th of August, anno 1572. Which marriage being celebrate and solemnized by the cardinal of Bourbon upon a high stage set up of purpose without the church walls, the prince of Navarre and Conde came down, waiting for the king’s sister being then at mass. This done, they resorted all together to the bishop’s palace to dinner. At evening they were had to a palace in the middle of Paris to supper. Not long after this, being the 22d of August, the admiral, coming from the counciltable, by the way was struck with a pistolet, charged with three pellets, in, both his arms. He being thus wounded, and yet still remaining in Paris, although the vidame gave him counsel to flee away, it so fell out that certain soldiers were appointed in divers places of the city to be ready at a watchword at the commandment of the prince; upon which watchword given, they burst out to the slaughter of the protestants, first beginning with the admiral himself, who, being wounded with many sore wounds, was east out of the window into the street, where, his head being first struck off, and embalmed with spices to be sent to the pope, the savage people raging against him, cut off his arms and privy members. And so, drawing him three days through the streets of Paris, they dragged him unto the place of execution out of the city, and there hanged him up by his heels to the greater show and scorn of him.

    After the martyrdom of this good man, the armed soldiers with rage and violence ran upon all other of the same profession, slaying and killing all the protestants they knew or could find within the city gates enclosed.

    This bloody slaughter continued the space of many days, but especially the greatest slaughter was in the three first days, in which were numbered to be slain, as the story writeth, above ten thousand men, women, old and young, of all sorts and conditions. The bodies of the dead were carried in carts to be thrown in the river: so that not only the river was all stained therewith, but also whole streams, in certain places of the city, did run with gore blood of the slain bodies. So great was the outrage of that heathenish persecution, that not only the protestants, but also certain, whom they thought indifferent papists, they put to the sword instead of protestants. In the number of them that were slain of the more learned sort, was Petrus Ramus, also Lambinns, another notorious learned man; Plateanus, Lomenius, Chapusius, with others.

    And not only within the walls of Paris this uproar was contained, but it extended further into other cities and quarters of the realm, especially Lyons, Orleans, Toulouse, and Rouen: in which cities it is almost incredible, nor scarce ever heard of in any nation, what cruelty was showed, what numbers of good men were destroyed; insomuch that within the space of one month thirty thousand, at least, of religious protestants are numbered to be slain, as is credibly reported and storied in the commentaries of them which testify purposely of the matter. f616 Furthermore here is to be noted a420 , that when the pope first heard of this bloody stir, he with his cardinals made such joy at Rome, with their procession, with their gunshot, and singing of “Te Deum,” that in honor of that festival act, a jubilee was commanded by the pope with great indulgence, and much solemnity. Whereby thou hast here to discern and judge, with what spirit and charity these catholics are moved to maintain their religion, which otherwise would fall to the ground without all hope of recovery. Likewise in France, no less rejoicing there was upon the 28th day of the said month, the king commanding public processions through the whole city, to be made, with bonfires, ringing, and singing; where the king himself, with the queen his mother, and his whole court resorting together to the church, gave thanks and laud to God, for that so worthy victory achieved upon St. Bartholomew’s day against the protestants, whom they thought to be utterly overthrown and vanquished in all the realm for ever.

    And in very deed, to man’s thinking it might appear no less after such a great destruction of the protestants, having lost so many worthy and noble captains as then were cut off, whereupon many, for fear revoking their religion, returned to the pope, divers fled out of the realm, such as would not turn, keeping themselves secret, durst not be known nor seen, so that it was past all hope of man, that the gospel should ever have any more place in France. But such is the admirable working of the Lord, where man’s help and hope most fail, there he most showeth his strength and helpeth, as here is to be seen and noted. For whereas the little small remnant of the gospel side, being now brought to utter desperation, were now ready to. give over unto the king, and many were gone already against conscience, yielding to time, yet the Lord of his goodness so wrought, that many were stayed and reclaimed again through the occasion first of them in Rochelle; who, hearing of the cruel massacre in Paris, and slaughter at Toulouse, most constantly, with valiant hearts (the Lord so working), thought to stand to their defense against the king’s power; by whose example certain other cities, hearing thereof, took no little courage to do the like: as namely Montauban, the city called Nismes in Languedoc, Santerre, Millaud, Mirebeau, Anduze, with other towns and cities more: who being confederate together exhorted one another to be circumspect, and take good heed of the false dissembling practices not to be trusted of the merciless papists, intending nothing but blood and destruction.

    These things thus passing at Rochelle, the king hearing thereof, giveth in commandment to captain Strozzi and Guarde to see to Rochelle. After this he sendeth a nobleman, one Biron, requiring of the Rochelle men to receive him for their governor under the king. Of this great consultation being had, at length the Rochelle men began to condescend upon certain conditions; which being not easily granted unto, and especially they hearing, in the mean time, what was done to other of their fellows, which had submitted themselves, thought it so better to stand to the defense of their lives and constrances, and to adventure the worst. Whereupon began great siege and battery to be laid against Rochelle a421 both by land and sea, which was anno 1572, about the 4th day of December.

    It would require another volume to describe all things, during the time of this siege, that passed on either side, between the king’s part, and the town of Rochelle. Briefly to run over some parts of the matter: In the beginning of the next year following, which was in 1578, in the month of January, commandment was given out by the king to all and sundry nobles and peers of France, upon great punishment, to address themselves in most forcible wise to the assaulting of Rochelle. Whereupon a great concourse of all the nobility, with the whole power of France, was there assembled, amongst whom was also the prince of Anjou, the king’s brother (who there not long after was proclaimed king of Poland), accompanied with his other brother the duke of Alencon, Navarre, Condo, and other a great number of states besides. Thus, the whole power of France being gathered against one poor town, had not the mighty hand of the Lord stood: on their side, it had been impossible for them to escape.

    During the time of this siege, which lasted about seven months, what skirmishes and conflicts were on both sides, it would require a long tractation. To make short, seven principal assaults a422 were given to the poor town of Rochelle, with all the power that France could, make: in all which assaults ever the pope’s catholic side had the worst. Concerning the first assault thus I find written, that within the space of twenty-six days were charged against the walls and houses of Rochelle, to the number of thirty thousand shot of iron bullets and globes, whereby a great breach was made for the adversary to invade the city: but such was the courage of them within (not men only, but also of women, matrons, and maidens, with spits, fire, and such other weapon as came to hand), that the adversary was driven back, with no small slaughter of their soldiers: only of the townsmen were slain and wounded to the number of sixty persons.

    Likewise in the second assault two thousand great field-pieces were laid against the town; whereupon the adversary attempted the next day to invade the town, but through the industry of the soldiers and citizens, and also of the women and maids, the invaders were forced at length to fly away faster than they came. No better success had all the assaults that followed: whereby consider, gentle reader, with thyself, in what great distress these good men were, not of Rochelle only, but of other cities also, during these seven months above mentioned, had not the mighty hand of the Lord Almighty sustained them: concerning whose wondrous operation for his servants in these hard distresses, three memorable things I find in history to be noted.

    The one concerning the siege of Sancerre; which city being terribly battered and razed with gunshot of great canons, and field-pieces (having at one siege no less than three thousand bullets and gun-stones flying upon them, wherewith the crests of their helmets were pierced, their sleeves, their hose, their hats pierced, their weapons in their hands broken, their walls shaken, their houses rent down); yet not one person slain or wounded with all this, save only at the first a certain maiden, with the blast of the shot flying by her, was struck down, and died.

    The second thing to be noted is this, that in the same city of Sancerre, during all the time of the siege, which lasted seven months and a half, for all the ordnance and battering-pieces discharged against them, which are numbered to six thousand, not so much as twenty-five persons, in all, were slain!

    The third example, no less memorable, was at Rochelle: whereas the poorer sort began to lack corn and victual, there was sent to them every day in the river (by the hand of the Lord no doubt) a great multitude of fish, called surdones, which the poorer people did use instead of bread; which fish, the same day as the siege brake up, departed and came no more. — Testified by them which were present there in Rochelle all the time.

    What number was lost on both sides during all this seven months’ war, it is not certainly known. Of the king’s camp what number was slain, by this it may be conjectured, that one hundred and thirty-two of their captains were killed and slain, of whom the chiefest was duke D’Artmale.

    To close up this tragical story, concerning the breaking up of this seven months’ siege, thus it fell out: that shortly after the seventh assault given against Rochelle, which was anno 1578, about the month of June, word came to the camp, that the duke of Anjou, the king’s brother, was proclaimed king of Poland: whereat great joy was m the camp. By occasion whereof the new king, more willing to have peace, entered talk with them of Rochelle; who, as he showed himself to them not ungentle, so found he them again to him not unconformable. Whereupon a certain agreement pacificatory was concluded between them upon conditions: which agreement the new Polish king eftsoons preferred to the French king his brother, not without some suit and intercession to have it ratified. The king also himself, partly being weary of these chargeable wars, was the more willing to assent thereunto. And thus at length, through the Lord’s great work, the king’s royal consent under form of an edict was set down in writing, and confirmed by the king, containing twenty-five articles: in which also were included certain other cities of the protestants, granting to them benefit of peace and liberty of religion. This edict or mandate, sent down from the king by his herald-at-arms, Biron, in the king’s name, caused to be solemnly proclaimed at Rochelle, in the year 1573, the 10th day of July.

    The next year following, 1574, for two things seemeth fatal and famous; for the death first of Charles the ninth the French king, also most of all for the death of Charles, cardinal of Lorrain, brother to Guise. Of the manner of the cardinal’s death, I find little mention in stories. Touching the king’s death, although Richard Dinothus saith nothing, for fear belike, because he being a Frenchman, his name is expressed and known: but another story (whom the said Dinothus doth follow) bearing no name, saith thus: That he died the 25th day of May, upon Whitsun-even, being of the age of twenty-five years; and addeth more: “Certain it is, that his sickness came of bleeding.” And saith further: “The constant report so goeth, that his blood gushing out by divers parts of his body, he, tossing in his bed, and casting out many horrible blasphemies, laid upon pillows with his heels upward and head downward, voided so much blood at his mouth, that in few hours he died:” which story, if it be true, as is recorded and testified, may be a spectacle and example to all persecuting kings and princes polluted with the blood of christian martyrs. And thus much briefly touching the late terrible persecution in France.

    THE CONCLUSION OF THE WORK.

    And thus to conclude, good christian reader, this present tractation, not for lack of matter, but to shorten rather the matter for largeness of the volume, I here stay for this present time with further addition of more discourse either to overweary thee with longer tediousness, or overcharge the book with longer prolixity; having hitherto set forth the acts and proceedings of the whole church of Christ, namely, of the church of England, although not in such particular perfection, that nothing hath overpassed us; yet in such general sufficiency, that I trust not very much hath escaped us, necessary to be known, touching the principal affairs, doings and proceedings of the church and churchmen. Wherein may be seen the whole state, order, descent, course, and continuance of the same, the increase and decrease of true religion, the creeping in of superstition, the horrible troubles of persecution, the wonderful assistance of the Almighty in maintaining his truth, the glorious constancy of Christ’s martyrs, the rage of the enemies, the alteration of times, the travails and troubles of the church, from the first primitive age of Christ’s gospel, to the end of queen Mary, and the beginning of this our gracious queen Elizabeth. During the time of her happy reign, which hath hitherto continued (through the gracious protection of the Lord) the space now of twenty-four years, as my wish is, so I would be glad the good will of the Lord were so, that no more matter of such lamentable stories may ever be offered hereafter to write upon. But so it is, I cannot tell how, the elder the world waxeth, the longer it continueth, the nearer it hasteneth to its end, the more Satan rageth; giving still new matter of writing books and volumes: insomuch that if all were recorded and committed to history, that within the said compass of this queen’s reign hitherto hath happened, in Scotland, Flanders, France, Spain, Germany, besides this our own country of England and Ireland, with other countries more, I verily suppose one Eusebius, or Polyhistor, which Pliny writeth of, would not suffice thereunto.

    But of these incidents and occurrents hereafter more, as it shall please the Lord to give grace and space. In the mean time, the grace of the Lord Jesus work with thee, gentle reader, in all thy studious readings. And while thou hast space, so employ thyself to read, that by reading thou mayest learn daily to know that which may profit thy soul, may teach thee experience, may arm thee with patience, and instruct thee in all spiritual knowledge more and more to thy perpetual comfort and salvation in Christ Jesus our Lord; to whom be glory in secula seculorum, Amen.

    THE END OF THE ACTS AND MONUMENTS.

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