THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Mr. Edmund Geninges PRIEST, Crowned with Martyrdom at London, the 10. day of November, in the year M. D.XCI.  
Pretiosa in conspectu Dnī, Mors Sanctorum eius  Psal. 115. 
AT S. OMERS by Charles Boscard.   
S. Cyprianus Epist. 9 in fine. 
O beatam Ecclesiam nostram, quam temporibus nostris gloriosus Martyrum sanguis illustrat! Erat antea in operibus Fratrum candida; nunc facta est in Martyrum cruore purpurea.  
Happy is our Church, which the glorious blood of Martyrs doth in these our days illustrate! It was made white before in the works of our Brethren; but now is become purple in the blood of Martyrs.   

THE AUTHOR TO HIS BOOK.  

GO mournful Muse the trumpet of my cares,  
Sound out aloud this doleful accident;  
Tell all the world how ill the matter fares,  
'tis hard if none will help thee to lament.  
A tigers heart such sorrows will deplore,  
His tears I wish that never wept before.   

When as the noble Romans made return  
From foreign conquests, and great victories;  
They on their Altars sacrifice did burn,  
Their famous acts thereby to memorise.  
And thus they left unto posterity,  
The due reward of worthy chivalry.   

Shall then the sufferings of our Champion sleep,  
His glorious combats and victorious strife?  
No, no (dear Muse) thy pen thou now must steep,  
In bloody accents of a martyrs life.  
A life indeed, for when his days had end,  
Eternity of life did death amend.    

THE BOOK TO HIS READER.  

AFfected words, or Courtly complement,  
Do not expect, who ever reads this story;  
virtue's my ground, it needs no ornament,  
And to deceive you so, I should be sorry.  
If any such there be, post to King 
* a Book so called.  Liere,  
He hath applause, seek not contentment here.   

Poet's may paint, and diversely adorn  
Their feigned passions, and chimaera's strange;  
Teaching their pens to weep as one forlorn,  
And up and down in barren deserts range.  
But if true grief do once possess their mind,  
They feel their combats in another kind.   

My author's plain, nor is his grief a fiction,  
The world can witness what himself doth prove;  
Read that ensues, 'tis writ for thy direction,  
And ease thy passion, as desert shall move.  
It it be penned according to thy fancy,  
Then learn to suffer by his constancy.    

To the very R. my ever Dear, and Worthy Friend, Master I. G. P.  
WORTHY SIR,  
This ensuing Relation, which of late I received from you in written hand, I now return again in Print by way of dedication. My reasons (for so unusual a thing) are two. First, for that I judge yourself (before all others only Worthy to patronize the same; it being the subject of him, in whom (before all others) you ever had, and have still most right & interest. Secondly, that as in his virtuous life time, you were nearly conjoined unto him both in Affection & Blood: so now after his glorious death, his memory might be lively represented unto you both in heart & Mind. The which I have here endeavoured to express to my best power. Turn then over the leaf, & behold that mirror, wherein you most delight. And so I rest,  
Yours ever most assured I. with. P.   



Edmundi speciem spectat quicumque Geningi,  
Robora, virtutem, spectet et ille fidem.  
IpsVM ter DVrae fera LeX, fera neXVe bearVnt,  
Terque cruenta dies dena Decembris erat.  
Numque tenet raptum dum cor è corpore lictor,  
Gregorij è caelis numina lingua petit  
Huic dens ex proprio vix nato nascitur ore,  
Roboris hoc signum proque fideque   
Deo. Mart ba●f.    

THE PREFACE.  
SACRAMENTUM REGIS caelare bonum est: 
job. 12  opera autem Dei revelare, & confiteri honorificum est. It is a good thing (saith the holy Scripture) to conceal the secret of a King: but it is most honourable to reveal and confess the works of God. Like as this sentence (Courteous Reader) is verified, touching all the divine works of Almighty God himself in general: so the truth of it is most apparent, concerning his admirable works in just men and Saints in particular. The reason of this is manifest, because the relation of such works doth not only tend highly to the honour of God, who by this means is showed to be admirable and praiseworthy in his Saints; 
Psal. 67  but also to the glory of the Saints themselves, and of God's militant Church on earth, of which, whiles they lived, they were lively members.  
Hence it hath been ever a laudable custom of living Christians to report and make known to the world, the noble acts of God's Saints departed cut of this vale of miseries. But is this the only good, that ariseth of such endeavours? No, for the histories of the lives of Saints do confirm our faith, stir us up to imitate them, and have sundry other most profitable effects. And although these motives may suffice to persuade any Christian to pen, and publish the famous acts of holy Martyrs: yet not only these, but others also move me to undertake this labour, touching the life and death of Edmund Geninges Priest, who amongst many others, in defence of Christ's Holy and Apostolic Church, not many years since hath in this our Island most gloriously shed his innocent blood, and lost his temporal life, to gain eternal.  
Of which motives, one is my own exact knowledge of many particulars, 
Motives that induced the Author to write this discourse.  concerning this Blessed man, whereof others, better able to perform this matter then myself, perhaps are ignorant: which particulars being memorable, would peradventure thereby be buried in perpetual oblivion, if I should not deliver them thus in writing to posterity. Another motive is, my particular love, and deserved affection to the party of whom I am to treat. The third is, the persuasion and entreaty of some special friends, whose requests in such a matter I cannot well either neglect or withstand. Finally some secret motives have often assaulted my mind, and invited me to this enterprise, which in mature consideration seem to me to have proceeded from God himself, who would not have the memory of his Saints so long obscured & forgotten.  
These reasons as they urged me forward, so others also chose hitherto kept me back, 
Why this Book was not published before this day.  & dissuaded me from such proceedings. First a fear or suspicion of being accounted over partial, by reason I have been so much linked unto him in friendship and favour, for which cause my Relation perhaps unto some, might seem in part feigned through affection, and consequently of doubtful truth. Secondly my own insufficiency and want of experience in penning such a worthy discourse as this deserveth. These two conceits have hitherto kept me back from publishing of this intention. But now the former motives are deemed by me more forcible, and weigh down these opposite objections, especially seeing that both these lets & obstacles in the sight of an indifferent Reader, may after a sort be either much weakened, or altogether removed. The one by a protestation of truth and sincerity. The other by another mean of like quality.  
First therefore the censure of Solomon is not unknown to me, who avoweth, that, He who speaketh lies shall not escape unpunished, but shall perish. 
Prou. 19 cap. 6. Sap. 1  That, God hates a lying tongue. &, That a mouth which lieth killeth the soul. Unto whose sentence that of the Psalmist is conformable, telling us, that our Lord will destroy all those that speak lies. 
Psalm. 5 joan. 8.  Nay our Saviour himself affirmeth, the Devil to be a liar, and the father of lies. These things (I say) I know. What then will it profit me to seek to honour a Martyr, by feigning and forging a lie? Doth the glory of God's Saints need any such foul and dishonest helps? No surely. But I will say, as holy job said: 
job. 12.  Numquid Deus indiget nostro mendacio, ut pro illo loquamur dolos?  
Therefore to clear myself from this suspicion, I protest, that I will make mention of no one thing, which I have not either known to be true myself, or heard from his mouth whose life and martyrdom I write, or have not received as true, by relation from very honest, virtuous, and sufficient persons, whose tender and Catholic consciences (as may justly be thought) could not bear the burden of uttering such untruths.  
Now touching mine own insufficiency, I hope that the best minded Readers, whom principally I desire to profit and pleasure, will not so much exact, or expect at my hands (discoursing of such a matter) Eloquence and Rhetorical figures, as truth and the plain delivery of things, tending to God's glory, and their own edification. And thus having delivered unto thee (gentle Reader) the motives of my writing, and the drift of mine intent, humbly beseeching God to assist me with the aid and direction of his holy spirit, craving both thy patience and pardon for such faults as shall escape me either in words or style, I will enter upon my foresaid intended Relation.   


Nuntia Christicolis venturae cladis, inermes  
Aethere ab armatis nocte perire videt.   
M. b. f  A BRIEF RELATION OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF M. EDMUND GENINGES, ALIAS Ironmonger Priest & Martyr, who suffered in Grays-inn fields the 10. of December in the year of our Lord 1591. & 34. of the reign of Q. Elizabeth.  

OF HIS BIRTH, CHILDhood, and Education. CHAP. I.  
ACCORDING to the laudable, and ever-used custom, practised by the Writers of Saints lives, in all ages throughout the Christian World, who in recounting their memorable acts and deeds, do commonly use to lay open, as their first groundwork, their offspring, birth, and education, to the end, that as well the secret and hidden decrees of God Almighty (apud quem nulla est acceptio personarum, with whom there is no acception of persons) might be made manifest: as also to convince the blind errors of human rash judgements, whose censures are commonly according to the outward appearance; and every thing that is unlikely, by them is deemed impossible, 
His parents their names concealed for special reasons.  quia vana sunt judicia hominum, because the judgements of men are vain. I had thought to have declared at large the birth, and education of this our thrice happy Martyr, leaving the world to judge of his miraculous alteration; but for divers respects, persuasion forceth me to silence at this time. And behold in limine, at the very first, I will not say a miracle, yet at least a wonder; for scarce had Nature cleansed his silly corpse from such uncleanness as it brought à maternis visceribus, from his mother's bowels, but presently within an hour or two appeared a sign of the magnanimity and great courage which he was afterward to set forth to the view of the whole world. And this it was.  
The Midwife and other women having accomplished every thing belonging to their office in the birth of the infant; the Nurse sat her down by the fire, to give the child his first food; and directing her dug into his mouth, he presently bit the same. At which unexpected pain, the simple woman sent forth loud scrikes and cries, which she no sooner had done, but the child bit her again. Which unwonted accident so bereft the Nurse of all patience, that she was ready to have done the child some mischief had not the women then accompanying his mother ran to succour him; 
He was borne with a tooth in his head.  who enquiring the cause, they perceived the lamb to have played the lion, and searching his mouth they found him to have a very fair white tooth in the forepart thereof. Which strange spectacle worthily put them all into admiration: and after a day or two, when his weak mother had somewhat recovered strength, they related unto her the whole matter which had happened, who what with grief and wonder was so perplexed, as being not able to contain herself within the limits of temperate motherhood, she broke forth into deep passions.  
At which time it chanced that a venerable old man, a Doctor of Divinity lodged in her house, a Catholic (as I myself have heard her say) who hearing and seeing what had happened, and grieving for her impatience came in to visit her, or rather to comfort and content her. The Doctor was no sooner entered the chamber, but she began to relate the whole discourse, 
A prophetical speech foreshowing his end.  as if he had known nothing thereof. Which done, the grave Doctor began to use many spiritual and comfortable words, and in the end uttered (if I may so term it) these prophetical speeches. Be of good cheer (said he) your Son is, and shall be very well: and concerning his tooth, assure yourself it doth foretell, that he shall travail further, than the Queen hath any land, & at the length return again to the unspeakable joy and comfort of all that love him.  
These words of the Doctor were often rehearsed in the hearing of many, long before his going over the seas, by his mother: the effect of which saying I leave to the indifferent Reader to consider, whether it be not altogether accomplished, and whether his glorious Martyrdom, and great courage in the same, foreshowed by his tooth, was not a comfort to all that loved him or favoured the Catholic cause. But let us return to our Infant, who until he was two years old had the same tooth in his head, but then he lost it, and it vanished away without pain, trouble, or any advertisement.  
With no less admiration may I report unto you his admirable ripeness and gravity even in his infancy, 
His gravity in his childhood.  who was never delighted with childish plays, or any thing that might seem toyish: no, he would never be enticed to play at any time with like aged children, but loved greatly to behold the heavens, and therefore he usually went forth in the evening to delight himself with the sight of the skies bedecked with stars. And on a time in these his tender years going forth at night according to his custom, this strange spectacle appeared to him in the air. He saw, as it were, armed men with weapons killing and murdering others that were disarmed, and altogether destitute of like furniture, and great store of blood running every where about them.  
This strange sight put the child into a great fear, 
A vision foretelling our countries persecution.  which caused him to run in hastily to tell his mother, being then a Widow, what he had seen, and she presently went forth with three or four of her neighbours, who that night had supped with her, and they were all eye-witnesses of the same spectacle. Thus much I myself have heard them report, who also affirmed, that myself was then present, but being very young, I cannot remember it. This happened in the beginning of our chiefest persecution, not long before the glorious death of B. Father Campian, and the rest, about the year 1581.   


Seruit hero, duce hero, Christi fit servus Vterque,  
Fidus proque hero agit maxima, proque Deo.  OF HIS CONVERSION to the Catholic faith. CHAP. II.  
NOW GROWING further in years, frequenting the schools until he was 13. years of age, in which process of time he attained to so great virtue of obedience towards his mother, of modest behaviour towards all, of reverence towards his elders & betters, 
His virtuous education.  and profited so much in learning, that he was not only worthily admired & beloved of many, but especially of his Schoolmaster above others, who had greatest trial of him, who now began to affect him so much, and to conceive such an opinion of him, as he would often use S. Paul's words unto him, Gratia Dei es id quod es, & gratia eius in te vacua non est. Through the grace of God thou art that which thou art, and his grace in thee is not void.  
Now I cannot here but much admire the providence of Almighty God, who by his secret and unexpected means bringeth ever that to pass which he hath preordained. This youth during all this time, was no member of the Catholic Church, but frequented the Protestants Conventicles, with the rest of his friends. How then was he drawn to the true faith and religion? Oh God, that ordereth all things sweetly, disposed this accordingly: for it happened that a Gentleman coming to the place where he was taught, and lodging at his Scoolemaisters' father's house, 
How he became 〈◊〉 to Catholic Gentlemen  who kept an Inn in the same City, and by chance, or as God would have it, meeting the Schoolmaster there at supper, after other ordinary communication, inquired of him, whether it were not possible to get in that City a handsome youth to ride with him as his page, whom (quoth he) I will maintain like a gentleman, if he have learning, nurture, and behaviour beseeming such a person. To which the Schoolmaster made answer: Such a youth there is here, Qui virtutem in vultu gerit, who carrieth virtue in his very countenance: but (saith he) he is the child of a widow, who I much fear will not easily be persuaded to depart from him.  
Whereupon the Gentleman much desiring to have a sight of the youth, obtained that he should be sent for to his lodging, at whose coming he found the Scoolemaisters' words most true, 
His leaving of his Friends.  and therefore would not cease his suit until he had obtained his mother's consent, which by long entreaty and large promises, and an assured speedy return (the junekeeper and Schoolmaster being his sureties) at length he enjoyed. And so this our young man being aged about 16. years, upon a sudden willingly left both mother, friends, and Country, and with all alacrity put himself into the government of a master, that was unto him a mere stranger. But here I must advertise my Courteous Reader, that this good Gentleman was a Catholic, and very much persecuted for his religion in his temporal fortunes, 
M Rich. Sherwood.  and therefore made seldom any long abode in one place, for the better preservation of his living. The same man afterwards went beyond the seas, and was made Priest, so that the man became fellow and brother to his master, as shall be related hereafter.  
This Gentleman at the first had a watchful eye over his new servant in all his actions, because he knew all his friends to be earnest Protestants, but in short time he found him so trusty, so secret, 
Hi fidelity to his master.  and so diligent in all his business and affairs, that he began to deal with him touching religion for the salvation of his soul: and perceiving him both tractable, capable, and willing to hear, he so far instructed him, that at length the youth blushing at his own ignorance, earnestly desired to be reconciled, and made a member of the Catholic Church, from which he promised he would never serve, Deo adiwante, with God's assistance. Which pious request was not long denied him to his exceeding comfort and consolation.  
Behold here his first entrance into the way towards heaven, his first step to his glorious martyrdom, 
His first step towards heaven.  whose devout beginning made him gracious both to God and man. For as before he was diligent in all his masters affairs; so now he was most fortunate in what he took in hand, which caused him to be loved of every one, with whom he conversed. I cannot here let pass one thing amongst many which this our pious young Man did in the service of his foresaid Master, which I relate the rather, because the Gentleman himself, being a Priest in Brussels of Flanders, told it afterward unto me; and this it was.  
The foresaid Gentleman having dealt in matters of great importance with many Recusants of our Country, it so fell out, that one of them (whom for many respects I forbear to name) was taken & committed close prisoner in London; and because weighty matters had passed betwixt the prisoner and the foresaid Gentleman touching lands, and other affairs, and thereby was like to ensue some damage extraordinary to the Gentleman, 
His masters confidence in him.  if some means were not wrought to advertise the prisoner how to answer to those accusations which would be laid against him; and having by himself sought all the means that he could, to have access to the said prisoner, & perceiving no hope thereof without eminent danger, desisted, determining at last to send this his trusty servant, confiding more to his approved wit & lucky success in all his actions, then to any probability of accomplishing the same. And (thus resolved) he sent Edmund who was not yet 17. years of age, to effect that enterprise which himself could not perform; and this he only imposed upon him, not directing him how it was possible to be achieved.  
The youth having his charge, went with all readiness, committing his cause to God, Quia non erit impossibile apud Deum omne verbum, for that nothing is impossible to God. 
His happy success in his masters business.  Determining therefore to do (as a trusty servant) what did lie in him, and thinking on no other means, he took up his lodging near to the prison, hoping in time to get acquaintance with the keeper or his man, and so to bring to pass his intended purpose. Neither was his hope frustrate, for within few days he so ordered the matter, as he fell into great familiarity with the said keeper's man, who (as God would have it) had the charge of the foresaid close prisoner: and to be brief, in short time he dealt so judiciously in his business, that he did not only procure to speak with the said prisoner, but also to have access unto him three or four times with paper and ink, to write his mind; and in the end concluded all things so effectually, as if his master had been present, which was no small marvel to all those that were in danger, or privy to the same.   


Patria ' deseritur tellus regit alter in arts  
Proclivem retrahit corpora languor edens▪  OF HIS GOING BEYOND the seas, and of his behaviour there. CHAP. III.  
THIS OUR INgenuous youth, having acquitted his master & others of much trouble and danger imminent by his fortunate dispatch with the close prisoner, his master having resolved to forsake the Realm, and to retire himself, and live within the compass of a religious life, 
His masters going beyond seas.  determined to place his man with some one of his acquaintance, lest perhaps he should return not without some danger of his soul to his own friends who were Protestants. This his purpose he disclosed unto his man Edmund, with good counsel and persuasion to remain firm in his faith and religion.  
But when our youth understood his masters resolution, he cried out with like words to those of S. Laurence, Quò vadit Magister sine servo? quò Pater sine Filio? Whither goeth my master without his man? 
In vita Sancti Laurent  Whither goeth my father without his son? And with tears distilling from his eyes he humbly entreated he might go together with him; Saying as it were with S. Peter; Domine, 
Luc. 22.  tecum paratus sum, & in carcerem, & in mortem ire: Master, I am ready to go with you any whither, to prison, yea to death. But the good Gentleman forecasting his future ability, 
His grief that he must forsake his Master  as also to try his spirit yet a little further, made him answer, that it was impossible. To which our Edmund replied. Alas! and is it impossible? Shall my native soil restrain free-will? or home-made laws alter devout resolutions? Am I not young? Can I not study? May I not in time get what you have gotten? learning for a scholar? yea virtue for a Priest perhaps, and so at length obtain that, for which you are now ready? Direct me the way, I beseech you, and let me (if you please) be your precursor. Tell me what I shall do, or whither I must go, and for the rest, God, who knows my desire, will provide and supply the want. Can it be possible that he that clotheth the lilies in the field, and feedeth the fowls of the air, will forsake him that forsaketh all to fulfil his divine precept. Seek first the Kingdom of God, and his justice, 
Matt. 6.  and all other things shall be given unto you? Finally he ended (to the admiration of his master) reciting the words of our Saviour: Qui reliquerit domum, vel fratres, aut sorores, aut patrem, aut matrem etc. propter me, centuplum accipiet, 
Matt. 19 Luc. 18.  & vitam aeternam possidebit: Whosoever shall forsake house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother etc. for my sake, shall receive a hundredth fold, and possess life everlasting.  
By these motions repeated with great fervour of spirit, his Master well perceived God Almighties calling in him, and therefore willingly condescended to let him take his adventure. And so procuring him commendations to the English Seminary at Rheims in France, and furnishing him with money sufficient for such a journey, 
His passing over the seas.  he dismissed him to shift for himself, his master being not able to warrant his own passage. And thus in all love and affection, the master and man parted. At which time he was little above 17. years of age, and presently without the knowledge of his other friends, he went to Gravesend, and there he used such diligence (God Almighty withal concurring) that he passed the seas, and safely arrived at his intended port, from whence he travailed to Rheims, being the shelter of all his comfort; so forcible was the hand of God. And there he found that Right Worthy Precedent D. Allen (afterward Cardinal) ready to entertain him with all fatherly affection.  
No sooner was he received into the College, but with all diligence and alacrity, 
His virtuous conversation at Rheims.  he applied his studies, mixing with his serious thoughts great desires and endeavours to obtain virtue, and religious devotion. Neither laboured he in vain, for in short time he so much profited, that as of many he was affected for his amiable and outward behaviour; so was he for his true zeal, and inward virtues, of most entirely beloved and admired, but of none misliked. It were too long to show in particular his perfect obedience and resignation of himself to the will of his Superiors, his humility annexed with his exceeding patience, as I myself have heard his said Superiors make report of him; one amongst others by occasion trayting of him in writing, gave this Censure.  
Edmundus Geninges erat providus ad consulendum, 
His praises written by his Superiors  humilis ad obediendum: erat in Christo devotus, in fide firmus, in bonis operibus promptus, in sermone verissimus, in bonitate conspiows, & in charitate praeclarus: Vexabatur frequenter, tolerabat patienter: Erat in eo in cunctis operibus discretio, & imitabilis erga omnes dilectio.  
Edmund Geninges was provident and wise to give or ask counsel, humble to obey: he was devout to Christ, in faith firm, prompt in good works, most true in his word, in goodness conspicuous, and in charity excellent: he was often vexed and sick, he suffered all patiently; there was ever in him, in all his actions discretion, and towards all sorts of people love, worthy of Imitation.  
He was indeed of a very weak constitution of body, and not able thereby to endure any great hardness, by means whereof at the first, by taking some extraordinary pains, partly in his study, and partly in his spiritual exercises, he fell into great sickness, for which visitation he was much pitied, 
His sickness at Rheims.  and his case greatly lamented by many. And being not able to go forward in his Course by reason thereof, by the direction of his Superiors, he had thought to have abridged his longer Courses of study, and only have heard Positive Divinity and Cases of Conscience. But as he changed his mind, so did a continual ague, and other infirmities still molest him, which at length brought him into a most dangerous consumption; in so much as the Physicians despaired of his recovery. This when the Precedent understood, he thought it best, and for the youth's greatest good, to send him into England, in hope that change of air would work some new effect. And so resolving, he furnished him with all things necessary for his journey.  
The young man yielded willingly to the advise of his Superior for obedience sake, but with much grief, and anguish of mind, that through want of age and learning, 
His departure towards England.  he could not enjoy so great a benefit, as was holy Priesthood, the only thing he came for. He also much feared his own weakness, lest his Protestant friends should by their dangerous snares, and allurements entangle him in his Religion. Nevertheless he departed towards England, and came to Newhaven, in France, where finding 2. or 3. banished English Priests (to whom he was commended) he stayed with them expecting passage.  
But listen I pray you a while, what befell unto him. Did he attain England, the intended scope of his travail? No verily, for than had not the Doctors Prophecy been verified, 
His lying sick at New haven.  to wit, that his return should be a comfortable joy, and a joyful comfort to all that loved him. But what befell him? These religious Priests laboured earnestly to obtain passage, the passenger prayed devoutly for health, or safe conduct: and thus spending the restless time for the space of one fortnight, at the length they chanced upon a ship fraught for London, in which they procured him passage, and preparing him victuals, and all things necessary for his journey, acquainted him therewith, that he might be ready, when the Master of the ship should call.  
But on the other side, although whiles he made his abode in this place, he had been assaulted with divers fits of intolerable griefs, as themselves had been eye witnesses, yet now upon the sudden he desired a little longer respite to debate and weigh the matter, for that he himself (as he said) greatly amended: and if (quoth he) there be any hope of recovery, I would be very loath to hazard myself in so great jeopardy, especially being not armed with the armour of proof, which I came for, 
His earnest desire not to go back into England.  to wit Priesthood. These virtuous men aforesaid having bargained with the shipper for his passage, half displeased, persuaded him earnestly to take that good opportunity: but he with bashful modesty, craved their patience, declaring what extraordinary motions had caused that unaccustomed kind of dealing, protesting that he found himself at that instant greatly amended, and almost aswell as ever he was. Which strange speeches not without great admiration, enforced them to cease their suit, and break out into these terms: Digitus Dei hic: haec mutatio dextrae Excelsi. 
Exod. 8. Psal. 76.  The finger of God is here: this change comes from the right hand of the Highest.  
Hence admiring his Saintely affability, and mild behaviour, with all contentment they condescended to his desires. 
His sudden recovery of a languishing disease.  And he truly on the very next day, made such a show of recovery, that he was able with a stomach to eat his meat, to go a good long walk, and such like tokens he gave of health, by doing much more than he was able to do before, that it was wonderful. Whereupon the said good Priests resolved to cherish him a while, and so to send him back again to Rheims. And finally, within another fortnight, he was so strong, that he departed towards Rheims, where not long after he arrived to his own unspeakable joy, and the comfort of his Superiors, and friends in the College.  
O that I could here declare, or as it were rudi Minerva express the inscrutable determination & proceedings of God Almighty towards this his chosen Martyr! Is it not true that holy David saith, Behold the eyes of our Lord, are ever over those that fear him, 
Psal. 3.2.  and such as hope in his mercy? And is not that of the Wiseman verified, 
Sap. 81.  Wisdom disposeth all things sweetly? Who ever saw, or heard of a disease so incurable as was his, being that he was far spent with a long consumption, recovered naturally without a miracle in so short a time, and altogether cured without any help of physic? But, Opera Dei admiratio nostra, God's works are our wonders. Well let us return to our new recovered Champion, 
His zeal towards his afflicted Country.  who shaking of all fear of a new fall into sickness, and having expelled all the cold fits of a shivering fever, with other languishing griefs of body, began now in soul to burn with exceeding charity, and religious zeal towards his countries good. Wherefore taking to himself a strong resolution he determined to arm himself with such furniture, as time and place would afford, and so to give a present onsett to his enemies, neither fearing their new-made Laws, nor other torments whatsoever, but blazing this for his poesy, Si Deus nobiscum, quis contra nos? If God be with us, who can be against us?  
O how often have I heard his Collegian fellows recite unto me his ever used phrase when occasion was offered him to talk of England, and Martyrdom therein, which was, Vivamus in spe, Vivamus in spe: let us live in hope, let us live in hope! But his inward sweet inspirations being unknown to his Governors, they now again began by all means to persuade him to take his whole time in the course of his studies, showing him that want of years must needs be his hindrance from being Priest so soon as he desired, 
His earnest desire of Priesthood.  which impediment being by him perceived, his intention of a speedy course (proceeding from his fiery flames of burning charity towards his Country) was thereby a little assuaged, yet the cause being not extinguished, it broke forth again within a while after with such vehemency, as being not able repress it any longer, he began a new, and more earnest suit to the Precedent, to obtain Priesthood. And to excuse his want of years he alleged such reasons, that the said Precedent with the Seniors of the College debating and discussing the matter maturely, thought it expedient, considering on the one side his decayed body, & on the other his unquenchable thirst of mind to gain souls to God in our unfortunate Country, to procure him a dispensation to be made Priest, which in short time they performed to his unspeakable comfort.   


Accipe Verbipotens calicem ritusque Sacratos,  
Sanguine Sacra tuo conficienda manent.  HOW HE WAS MADE Priest being but 23. years of age: and of his preparation to the same. CHAP. FOUR  
NOT LONG AFter that the Precedent & Superiors of the College (as we have said) had thought it convenient, 
A dispensation obtained from Rome for his Priesthood.  that a dispensation should be procured for Edmund Geninges to be made Priest before he was of full years, the said Edmund understanding that letters were now returned from Rome, made repair to M. D. Barret who was then Precedent, and his loving good-father (D. Allen being then sent for to Rome) to receive his long expected answer; and being by him advertised, that his dispensation was obtained, and that he should presently be promoted to holy orders; being also exhorted with many spiritual admonitions, to make a due preparation for the receiving of so great a function as is holy Priesthood, he was almost cast into an ecstasy of joy, all his thoughts now chiefly tending to nothing else, but how he might obtain the perfection of virtue, that being the chiefest armour of a religious Priest, whereby his actions should be wholly devoted to the glory of God, and the profit of his afflicted country.  
Now he began more carefully to gather up fragrant flowers of divers colours, to bedeck his English garland. Humility by due desert challenged the first place. Patience inflamed with burning Charity possessed the next. Now long prayer, and other virtuous acts besought Perseverance, and that his unworthiness might in no case infringe his future good purposes. Now he began to meditate on the exceeding dignities, and prerogatives of Priesthood, of the great charge he was to undertake, and of the exact account he was to render; yea he shaked and trembled at the words of the Prophet Malachy, Labia Sacerdotis custodient scientiam, 
His strange apprehension of the worthiness of Priesthood.  & legem requirent ex ore eius; quia Angelus Domini Exercituum est. The lips of the Priest shall keep knowledge, and men shall require the law of God from his mouth; because he is the Angel of the Lord of Hostes. The apprehension of which thing was so vehement, that it put him into a continual shaking of his flesh, as it were a palsy, which continued with him even to his dying day. And many there did note the cause, but more here in England did see the effect, and I myself at first sight did wonder at the same.  
It were to long to recite all & every one of his particular preparations to holy Priesthood, especially he having learned S. Augustine's lesson; In via virtutis non progredi, regredi est: not to go forward in the way of virtue, is to go backward. And therefore he spent no day without some act of virtue, either of charity or humility: at night he used to exclaim against himself, & say with that renowned king, O diem perdidi! Alas I have lost the day! 
His preparation to Priesthood.  Good God how he embraced every occasion offered, for the exercise of any virtuous action, was it never so base and mean: which being perceived by the Precedent, for his greater exercise of humility, patience, and charity, he made him Perfect of the Infirmary. This office he very thankfully undertook, and having now matter to work upon, he so laboured about the sick Students, even in the basest offices, that he was called the very pattern of piety, and humility: his commiseration was so great, as he might well have said with holy job, Miseratio ab infantia mea crevit mecum: 
job. 31.  mercy and pity hath grown and increased with me even from my infancy.  
Time being now come that he should be made Priest, with all humility, tamquam inutilis servus, as an unprofitable servant, yet cheerfully he embraced it, quia jugum Christi suave est, & onus eius leave, because Christ's yoke is sweet, and his burden light. His exceeding devotion and careful recollection in celebrating Mass, 
His devotion in celebrating Mass.  imprinted in the hearts of all his Collegian fellows, an everlasting memory of him; and they generally would report his extraordinary pious, and comely behaviour at the Altar, to the great comfort and edification of all: for although he was by nature very affable and merry, desirous of good and virtuous company; yet before and after Mass, he was seldom or never seen, for the space of one whole hour, to laugh, play, or spend any time in talk, except some urgent occasion compelled him to speak, but in continual prayer and meditation, in which he so behaved himself, as if with the Psalmist he had made a perpetual league, and said, Meditabar in mandatis tuis, quae dilexi nimis: I did meditate on thy commandments, which I have exceedingly loved. By this his piety was much noted, and was very exemplar throughout the whole College.   



Mittitur ad patrios socio comitant Penates;  
Ad Thamesim cautùs separat ambo timor.   
M. b. f.  OF HIS MISSION AND departure towards England: his shipping, and arrival there. CHAP. V.  
LONG HAD NOT our virtuous Priest been invested with holy Orders, but that Apostolical faculties were given him, & so with some others he was sent for England, departing from the College, 
Act. 8. Rom. 8.  tamquam ovis ad occisionem, & sicut agnus ad victimam, like a sheep to the slaughter, and like a lamb to be sacrificed. And thus wholly mortified, he took his leave of all the Superiors, & Scholars, who weeping even as those good Christians did for the departure 
Act. 20.  of S. Paul, and procumbentes super collum eius obsculabantur eum, falling upon his neck they kissed him with tears, & deducebant eum ad portam, and many of them brought him forth of the gates of the City, with divers others his Companions in that journey, as F. Tho. Stanney of the Society of jesus, M. Doctor Singleton, M. William Much, and M. Robert Clinch all Priests. Within few days they came to Treport in Normandy, 
His taking of ship.  where presently they endeavoured to procure a speedy, and (if it might be) a safe passage. And behold after two or three days abode there, they found an unexpected and altogether unwonted vessel fraught for England, whose master was a Frenchman, and in religion well affected. This man imagining (as it may be supposed) what they were, offered them unrequested safe passage, and to set them a shore by night, if they so pleased: who with joyful hearts accepted of his motion, yielding hearty thanks to God for his goodness, and care towards them, as also to him for his friendly offer.  
On the next day committing themselves to the tuition of their high Protector God Almighty, they took shipping; and wind and weather being both prosperous, they sailed along the coast of England, and meant to have landed on Essex side: but for their sakes the Master of the Bark lingered that evening, until it was two hours within night, and being come near unto Scarbrough, there came out a little boat with divers Rovers, or Pirates in it, to have surprised them, who shot at them divers times with muskets, but had no harm; for the wind being then somewhat contrary, the master turned his ship and sailed back into the main sea, where in foul weather they remained three days; and so at last being driven Eastward, they landed near unto Whitby in Yorkshire, on the side of a high Cliff, with great danger of their lives. At last they came to Whitby, 
How he was set on shore  where going into an Inn to refresh themselves, they found there one Ratcliff a Pursuivant, who after an exact view of them all, questioned with them about their arrival in that place, whence they came, and whither they would? They answered, that coming from Newcastle, they were by tempest driven thither. And so after refreshing of themselves, they went all to a Catholic Gentleman his house (whose name for divers respects I suppress) within 2. or 3. miles of Whitby, by whom they were directed some to one place, some to another, according to their own desires.  
Being thus each one sent to several places, M. Geninges with one other kept together, who travailing by the way, 
How they separated themselves for fear.  determined at last to separate themselves also for fear of suspicion, and so severally to commit themselves to the protection of God and their good Angels. And whiles they thus resolved, they came to two fair beaten ways, the one tending North-east, the other Southeast: & even then, and there (it being in the night) they stayed, and fell both down on their knees, making a short prayer together, that Almighty God of his infinite mercy would vouchsafe to respect his humble Servants, and send them peaceable passage into the thickest of his vineyard. Then rising up, they embraced one another with tears trickling down their cheeks. Thus Edmund took his leave.  
Seing (quoth he) we must now part, through fear of our enemies, 
His departure from his Companion.  & for our greater security, farewell sweet Brother in Christ, and most loving Companion. God grant, that as we have been friends in one College, & companions in one wearisome, and dangerous journey: so we may have a merry meeting once again in this world to our good comfort (if it shall please him) even amongst his, and our greatest adversaries. And that as we undertook for his love and holy name sake, this meritorious course of life together: so he will of his infinite goodness, and high clemency make us partakers of one hope, of one punishment, of one and the self same reward. And also as we began, so we may end together in Christ jesus. Thus being not able to speak one word more for grief and tears, they departed with mutual silence, the one directing his journey towards London, because he was borne there, the other Northward, because he was affected that way.   



Bis sequitur Frater, bis cor exaestuat, horr et,  
Bis coma sic Fratrem novit adesse suum   
M. baff  OF HIS COMING TO London, and the strange finding out of his natural Brother. CHAP. VI  
ALMIGHTY GOD the author of all good motions, by his holy spirit, first directed this our blessed Priests will & purpose to draw near to his own proper Country, that he might profit and take some care of his own particular friends, 
His repairing to his own Country.  & kinsfolks. Coming therefore to the City where he was borne, half a year after his arrival, he found most of his nearest friends and allies to be all dead, except one brother, whom he heard to be in London, but in what place he could not at that time conveniently learn. And though he feared least that too much inquiry should breed suspicion, yet brotherly charity could not forbear, but provoked him forward to seek his lost-sheep whom he well knew to be infected with a contagious disease of his soul. Hence presently he went to London, where like a good shepherd he left no place unsought, where he might suspect his said Brother's abode. And thus spending a month at the least, & seeing no hope to prevail, he resolved to leave the City for a season. But God whose secret providence passeth all human understanding (when the time of his departure drew near) unexpectedly, and as it were digito, with his finger, directly pointed him to the object that he so long sought to behold, yet very strangely: and thus it was, as I have heard from his own mouth.  
Having (as I have said) a determination to leave London for a while, he walked forth of his Inn one morning (certain days before he had purposed to travail) to visit a friend of his on the other side of the City, he lying then in Holborn; and passing by S. Paul's Church, when he was on the East side thereof, he suddenly felt a great distemperature in his body, in so much as his face glowed, and as he thought his hair stared, and all his joints trembling for fear, his whole body seemed to be bathed in a cold sweat. 
A sudden fear came upon him as he went in the streets at the sight of his Brother.  This strange accident of the alteration of his body causing him to fear some evil to be imminent towards him, or danger of taking, he looked back to see if he could espy any to pursue him: but perceiving no body to be near, but only a young youth in a brown coloured cloak, making no reflection who it should be, he went forward to his intended place, to say Mass that day; taking comfort in that saying of the Psalmist, jacta cogitatum tuum in Domino, & ipse te enutriet: put thy trust in our Lord, and he will nourish and protect thee.  
Behold here the love of Almighty God, who gave him a sight of his brother whom he sought for, though he passed by him without salutation, the one of them not knowing the other. But was this all the favour that God showed to this his elected Martyr? Had he only a bare sight without knowledge? No, no. Attend the sequel. Not long after, the very morning before he purposed to depart out of the town, the blessed man recollecting himself in his devotions, seriously prayed, that his departure without finding of his desired brother might increase his patience: and although it grieved him sore yet did he cry, Fiat voluntas tua, my will is thy will, 
The second time of the same fear.  sweet Lord, thy will be done. His devotions being finished, he went abroad to another place where he had promised to celebrate Mass that day before his departure: which done, as he was returning homewards towards his Inn, upon Ludgate hill, suddenly as he was going, he felt the same motions as he had done the time before: for heat strived to expel cold, and cold heat, all his joints trembled, as dreading some great trouble, or misfortune to ensue: and as always the silly lamb naturally feareth the ravening wolf; so his innocency fearing the worst, looked back to see who followed him. And behold no man of mark, but a youth in a brown coloured cloak: and at the same instant reflecting on the time past when he suffered the like perplexity, and steadfastly viewing the young man, presently he was strooken with this cogitation, This (quoth he) may be my brother.  
And let no man marvel that he could not know him by his favour, for he had not seen him in the space of eight or nine years before, 
His first knowledge of his brother.  and he left him a very little boy in the Country, and then was much altered (as I have heard) almost from white to black. Well, the aforesaid apprehension was so vehement, that it caused him to approach the youth, & being come unto him he courteously saluted him, and inquired what Countryman he was; and hearing he was a Staffordshire man, gently demanded his name? Who made answer, his name was Geninges, by which he knew certainly he was his brother so long looked for. Then with a glance towards heaven, in am of loving thanks, and with a smiling countenance upon the party, he told him he was his poor kinsman, and was called Ironmonger, and that he was very glad to see him well: and thus they walked down Ludgate-hill, he questioning of all his friends, and in particular about himself, ask what was become of his brother Edmund. The youth not suspecting him to be the same man, told him, he had heard he was gone to Rome to the Pope, and was become a notable Papist, & traitor both to God and his Country, and that if he did return and were taken, he would be hanged infallibly.  
Our sweet Martyr hearing this, and smiling at the boy's folly, told him, Edmund was his eldest brother, 
His communication with his brother.  & therefore (quoth he) you ought to speak well of him: he added, that he himself had heard, that he was a very honest man, & loved both the Queen and his Country, but God above all: yet tell me good cousin john (quoth he) do you not know him if you see him? To which john answered, No, he could not remember either visage or stature. Notwithstanding then he began to suspect and fear that he was his brother, and a Priest: yet nevertheless not knowing what a Priest was, boldly told him, he could not tell what he was, yet that he greatly dreaded, he had a brother a Papist Priest, and that he was the man; swearing withal, that if it were so, he would discredit himself and all his friends, if he were so proved, and protesting in that he would never follow him, although in other matters he would greatly respect him.  
Which words Edmund hearing, could no longer conceal himself from his suspicious brother, but told him truly, he was his brother indeed, and for his love, had taken great pains to come to seek him, persuading him to keep in secret the knowledge of his arrival. To which the youth answered, he would not for a world disclose his return, 
His brother's fear to incur the law for not reveling him  but yet he desired him to come no more unto him, for that he feared greatly the danger of the law, that being he was his brother, he should incur the penalty of the Statute newly made in concealing him. The good Man hearing this, thought it neither time nor place convenient (being then in a tavern) to talk of religion, he being but a waggish youth: only he told him he was deceived, for that he was no such manner of man as he took him for: neither was I (saith he) ever at Rome, or with the Pope, but only have travailed in other countries, for which fact there is no such punishment appointed by the law.  
To conclude, much talk they had about divers things, by which the good Priest well perceived his poor brother far from any good affection to Catholic religion, but rather wilfully given to persist in his Protestancy, without any hope of a present recovery. And therefore declaring unto him his present departure out of town, took his leave, assuring him, that within one month or little more he intended to return, at which time he would see him again, 
His departure from his brother, and farewell.  and confer with him more at large about some necessary affairs which concerned him very much. And thus the two brethren parted, the one to do his function, in converting of souls, the other to meditate how to corrupt his own; and so the one went to spend his time in studying how to persuade; the other how to withstand: the one purposed to make hast back again hoping to save a soul, brothers love him thereunto provoking; the other wished his brothers never return, through fear of conversion, licentious liberty brothers love perverting.   


cum veteri peragit Missa pia Sacra sodali.  
Jnfestat turbam turba profana piam.  OF HIS RETURNE TO London: and the manner of his taking, imprisoning, examining &c. CHAP. VII.  
THE TIME APappoynted being expired, our Godly Champion, having laboured in the Country by exhorting, instructing, & exercising amongst Catholics his Priestly function, withal diligence, according to his promise make to God, returned to London, to the end he might visit, & confer with his brother. The same night on which he came to the City, he repaired to a Catholics house in Holborn, where he found M. Polidore Plasden, a very virtuous & godly Priest. After a friendly and kind congratulation with some discourses of each others success in the harvest of England, 
His meeting with M. Plasden.  they began to confer of that which ever was and still is the chief joy to all true zealous Priests, and their only felicity, to wit, touching the offering of the dreadful Sacrifice, where they might serve God together the next day, and say Mass. At length they concluded to say their matins together & celebrate the next morning at M. Swithin Welles his house, being in the upper end of Holborn.  
They also made some acquainted with their meeting there, whom they wished to be present; and this they did the rather, because it was the Octave day of the feast of all Saints, to the end that their good friends as well as themselves might on that great feast be partakers of so worthy a benefit. 
Their conference of spiritual matters.  They themselves that night kept together, preparing to solemnize the morn according as the dignity thereof required, & their poor abilities afforded. Wherefore they heard Confessions, and did such like acts of devotion, as became such mortal men as Almighty God in his secret wisdom had chosen as Saints, and had determined on the feast of all Saints to mark as his own Saints, to the view and sight of the whole world, by beginning their Saintly combat to the glory of all Saints.  
O that I could here express the devotion and consolation which these good men had all that night powered and infused into them, 
His preparation to Mass and celebrating of the divine Mystery.  they not knowing what should befall them on the morrow! Day being come they lifted up their souls to heaven, and recommending their good purposes with the sins of the people to the holy suffrages of all Saints they went so to Mass, no doubt accompanied with troops of Angels and Saints coming to behold and succour them in the Tragedy which here ensueth: for now M. Geninges being at Mass, there were present as hearers, the foresaid M. Plasden, M. Eustach White Priests, M. Bryan Lacie Gentleman, john Mason, & Sidney Hodgson lay men with Mrs. Welles, whose house it was, and and other devout people who came thither on that day for the same purpose, M. Welles himself being from home, and out of the town.  
But behold when he was even at the Consecration of the holy body and blood of our Saviour, one M. Topliffe with other officers knocked at the door. Which sudden noise stroke fear and terror into the hearts of all that were present. But the forenamed good Priests with the rest arose from their devotions, and drawing out their weapons, (as S. Peter did to defend our Saviour) were ready at the chamber door when their enemies had burst it open, 
His saying of Mass & the officers entrance.  bidding them to stand, not suffering any one of them to enter until the Priest had finished his Mass. At which time, either john Mason, or Sidney Hodgson came unto them, and seeing them so maliciously bend that they would not expect, one of them ran upon M. Topliffe to have thrown him down the stairs, and with such vehemency, as they tumbled down both together.  
Then M. Plasden having appointed the rest to keep the broken door, went to the Altar, and bad the good Priest go forward without fear, and finish his Mass, to the greater glory of God, and honour of all his Saints: and after returning to the door, he espied M. Topliffe hastening up the stairs with a broken head, 
His manner of taking.  and fearing he would have raised the whole street for help, the more to pacify him, seeing no means to escape, he told him, that he should come in presently, and they would all yield: which promise was accomplished by & by; for no sooner was the Mass ended, but he with the rest rushed in, & took M. Geninges, & all the rest, men & women, with Church-stuff, books, beads, and all things that they could find. They carried them all to Newgate, and were not ashamed to lead M. Geninges through the streets in his Priestly vestments, for greater show of this their insulting triumph, and the more to make him a laughing stock to all the beholders, who are commonly ready (as they well knew) exceedingly to scoff at such an unwonted spectacle.  
Thus these devout Catholîkes to the number of ten, or thereabout, were committed close prisoners. 
His examination before justice young.  They used them very hardly, according to their accustomed manner, and within few days after, they were brought before justice young, and examined very strictly upon points and articles set down in the Edict lately before published. Finally they being all examined, were set back to the prison whence they came, there to expect the trial of the law, and execution according to the same, if they altered not their minds.  
In the mean time M. Swithyn Welles came home to his own house, in which (as is aforesaid) all these Priests and Catholics were apprehended, 
Master Wells his apprehension.  he not knowing what had happened; and finding his doors shut up, and all his people gone, inquired of his neighbours the cause of this sudden alteration, who told him that his wife was prisoner in Newgate, with many other Papists taken by M. Topliffe and others of the Queens Ma.tie officers. M. Welles hearing this, & being a man of great fervour and courage, went forthwith to justice young, and debated the cause of the ransacking of his house in his absence, demanding his wife and keys of his lodging. But the justice presently sent him unto his wife with a pair of iron bolts on his legs, promising him audience on the morrow concerning his suit.  
The next day, as he promised, the justice came to the prison with divers other officers and examined the said Gentleman concerning his inward dispositions and intentions, 
His imprisonment and examination.  because they had nothing to lay to his charge touching the rest which were taken in his house. They pretended indeed much matter against him, but he boldly answered that he was not acquainted with their doings: Notwithstanding (saith he) sith I must needs suffer in so good a quarrel, I will now willingly be partaker of their merit. Whereupon he affirmed he thought his house the better, that so 〈◊〉 a Sacrifice had been there celebrated, and wished that himself had been present when it was offered, to the glory of his Saviour jesus Christ, and profit of so many souls that heard it. Then the justice began to storm when he found him so resolute, and therefore told him in plain terms, he came time enough to taste of the sauce, although he were ignorant how the meat savoured. And so for that time they departed, leaving him in prison whereto he was committed.   


Vinctos sanguineum stiterunt ante tribunal,  
Mitibus assignat vox rabiosa crucem.  OF M. GENINGES HIS arraignment, and Condemnation: and what happened therein. CHAP. VIII.  
AFTER MANY examinations, threats, & devices used to withdraw these good Priests & catholics from their Religion, the fourth day of December the Officers came with bills, halberds, and other weapons to the prison, 
His arraignment  and so conveyed them from Newgate to the Sessions-House in the old Bailie, as if they had been so many incorrigible felons, or heinous Traitors. There they were arraigned, and indited of grievous crimes, and a jury was empaneled to find them all guilty of high treason, and yet all that they could prove against them, was no more, then that one of them had said Mass in M. Welles his house, & the rest had heard the said Mass. But M. Topliffe made a long exclamation against M. Brian's man for tumbling him down the stairs (as is said before) and plainly told him before all the people, he should he hanged for it.  
Many bitter words, and with some derision also, passed from the judges, 
How the judges put a fools coat on his back at the Bar.  and justices against the said persons arraigned, a great part whereof touched M. Geninges, and M. Welles: but especially M. Geninges was scorned and reviled, because he was a very young man, and had angered them with disputes. Nay the more to make him a scoff to the people, they vested him again, not with his priestly garments, but (almost as King Herod and pilate's soldiers did our Saviour) with a ridiculous fools coat, which they found in M. Welles his house, and when they had so altered him, they laughing told him, he was more fit in that attire to be presented to the Queen for a jester, then to a Nun for a Confessor.  
Moreover they most slanderously affirmed, that it was impossible for him, being a young man, fair and fine, and as they termed him frolic, 
Falsely slandered.  not to break the bands of vowed chastity, by being nought with those beautiful young women with whom he had daily conversed. But our chaste Priest, Sapiens in bono, & simplex in malo, wise in good, & simple in vice, well knew they judged according to the grounds & principles of their own Religion, & the custom of many of those which do profess it; & therefore meriting thereby very highly, took all things with exceeding great patience, and replying nothing to such calumnious slanders: only with S. Stephen he said, 
Act. 7  Domine ne statuas illis hoc peccatum; Lord lay not this sin unto them. Nevertheless in the mean time he called to mind, what his Lord and Master had suffered before him for his example, & imagined all those calumniations by him now suffered, to be lively representations of the jewish slanders towards Christ our Saviour, although in a far inferior degree.  
He also firmly fixed in his tender heart, the memory of our Lords wrongful condemnation, 
His patience in suffering injurious words.  and bitter Passion, as a sure bulwark for his defence agayinst the assaults of all their bitter accusations. I cannot here recite all the occasions of merit offered to these blessed Confessors by the judges. Neither is it my purpose to set down in particular, all the taunts, threats, calumniations, and exaggerations which against every one of them they thundered out. But any man, but of a mean understanding may easily imagine them to be great, seeing that they who uttered them were thoroughly practised in such like exercises. To conclude they spent that day in nothing else: so that it being late, they commanded the prisoners back to the jail, & took order that the jury on the next day should be ready at Westminster-Wall by 8. of the clock in the morning: which done they departed for that night.  
On the morrow, the prisoners were carried through the streets with a great train, every one being led between two men with halberds on their shoulders to Westminster, where before some of the Privy Counsel, and certain judges, 
His seconds arraignment at Westminster.  they were again arraigned, and the same jury the day before empaneled was to give up their verdict. But now began a new combat. M. Topliffe to show himself diligent, and justice young vigilant, left none of the former calumniations unrepeated, with additions and digressions, as best liked themselves: so that, what between the Counsels sharp admonitions & rebukes, the judges explications of Statutes, & justice youngs and M. Topliffes' slanders, they passed all the forenoon, determining no one thing against the prisoners, but arose and went to dinner, without doing any more.  
They were no sooner departed, but the glorious Confessors all embraced one the other, 
His encouragement of his fellows in the Combat  and mutually encouraged themselves to sustain the future assault, as they had done the combat already past, to the great edification of many standers by. But M. Geninges especially persuaded them all with a pleasant sweet speech (in the hearing of many Catholics) not to yield one jot to any of their enemies allurements, animating them with the saying of S. james, Appropinquate Deo, & appropinquabit vobis: Approach to God, and he will approach to you. And so they passed all the time of the Counsels dinner within the bar in prayer and exhortation to perseverance. In the mean time their adversaries hard hearts afforded them not one bit of bread, or drop of drink for their sustenance, so that they stood all that day without any refreshing, or bodily nourishment.  
After dinner the Lords and judges repaired again to the Bench, 
His final condemnation with the rest.  and there again also using long discourses of treasons, they affirmed the Priests to be traitors, and returned Renegades, Seducers, Plotters of Conspiracies, and the like, which those guiltless souls never dreamt of. To be brief the verdict was given up, and the Priests were all found guilty of high treason for returning into the Realm, contrary to the law provided in that behalf; and all the lay people both men and women were found guilty of felony for religious causes. M. Welles also, though he proved himself not to have been in town when this Mass was said, yet was he ranked amongst the rest, only because it was his house, & for allowing the same afterward O beati qui persecutionem patiuntur propter justitiam, 
Matth. 5  quoniam ipsorum est regnum caelorum! O Blessed are they that suffer persecution for righteousness sake, because theirs is the kingdom of heaven!  
The sentence of death was pronounced against them thus, that they should all die at Tyburn, except M. Geninges and M. Welles, who should by executed before M. Welles his own door in Grays-inn fields. 
Their places of Execution appointed.  Then the judges began to persuade them, being condemned, by all means possible they could, to conform themselves to the present Protestant Religion, by going to their Churches and Service, to acknowledge themselves guilty, and to submit their fault to the mercy of the Queen; and they did assure them, that so they should obtain mercy, else nothing was more certain than an untimely death. But now the elect of God calling to remembrance the saying of S. Paul: Cord creditur ad justitiam, ore autem confessio fit ad salutem; with the heart we believe unto justice, but with the mouth confession is made to salvation; seeing no means to escape, but by denying both God and their Religion humbly beseeched them to cease their suit, and not to endeavour to remove what was (by God's grace) immovable. They affirmed stoutly they would live & die in the true, Roman, and Catholic doctrine, which they and all antiquity had ever professed: and denied boldly to go to their Churches, or once to think that the Queen could be the spiritual head of the true Church, or Clergy of England: the same they pronounced touching their opinions in such like matters.  
The night drawing near they sent them to Newgate, from whence they came, with troops (as they were brought) or officers, 
Offer 〈◊〉 v●to him of 〈…〉 go to Church.  there to expect death at the Counsels pleasure. M. Geninges and the other two priests were cast into the dungeon. In the mean while twice or thrice justice young, M. Topliffe, and others came to the prison, and calling M. Geninges from forth the dungeon where they had laid him, they promised him both life and liberty, if he would go to their Church, and renounce his Religion. And although they found him ever in his answers both then and at the bar, very constant and resolute; yet they ceased not still to pursue their intentions, hoping at length to gain him, because they imagined his tender years could not still withstand their forcible charms: forcible I say, for what sweet allurements can be more forcible than life, liberty, living, & promotion to a condemned captive?  
But this our constant Confessor remembered the words of our Saviour, 
Luc. 9  Qui me erubuerit, & sermons meos coram hominibus, hunc filius hominis erubescet, cum venerit in maiestate sua, & Patris, & sanctorum Angelorum. He that shall be ashamed of me, & of my words before men, him the Son of man will be ashamed of, 
His constancy after his condemnation.  when he shall come in his own Ma.tie, and of his Fathers, and of the holy Angels. And always he pondered deeply with himself this other sentence of our Lord, Quid prodest homini si universum mundum lucretur, animae verò suae detrimentum patiatur? What doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, & sustain the damage of his own soul? Hence he resolved and was able to withstand a million of like batteries, if they could had happened. At length they finding him so constant, and immovable, waxing angry, they furiously put him into a certain hole within the prison, whence he could neither get up, nor down without hazard of breaking his neck, which was also so dark that he could not see his own hands. There he remained in prayer and contemplation without all food or sustenance to the hour of his death, desiring God of his infinite goodness to give him constancy & perseverance (as he had done in his former conflicts) to the end which near approached, and not to forsake him now in his greatest agony.   



Vitae norma decens pariter mors iunxerit una.  
Haec duo Thesêa pectora noxa fide.   
M. ba●. f.  OF HIS EXECUTION; and what happened therein. CHAP. IX.  
when THE HAPPY hour of his passion was come being 8. of the clock on friday the 10. day of December, M. Plasden, M. White, and the rest were carried to Tyburn, & there executed. Mistress Welles to her great grief was reprieved, and died in prison. M. Edmund Geninges, and M. Swythune Welles, as is aforesaid, were condemned to be executed in Gray's Inn fields on the North side of Holborn, over against his own door. When they were brought thither, after a few speeches of a Minister or two that were there present, M. Geninges was taken of the fled, whereon he lay. In the mean time he cried out with holy S. Andrew: O bona Crux diu desiderata, & iam concupiscenti animo praeparata, securus & gaudens venio ad te; ita & tu exultans suscipias me discipulum eius qui pependit in te! O good gibbet long desired, and now prepared for my heart much desiring thee, being secure and joyful I come unto thee; so thou also with joy, I beseech thee receive me the disciple of him that suffered on the Crosse.  
Being put upon the ladder naked to his shirt, 
His words to M. Topliffe on the ladder.  many questions were asked him by some standers by, whereto he answered still directly. At length M. Topliffe being present cried out with a loud voice; Geninges, Geninges, confess thy fault, thy Popish treason, and the Queen by submission (no doubt) will grant thee pardon. To which he mildly answered; I know not M. Topliffe in what I have offended my dear anointed Princess, for if I had offended her, or any other in any thing, I would willingly ask her, and all the world forgiveness. If she be offended with me without a cause, for professing my faith and religion, because I am a Priest, or because I will not turn Minister against my conscience, I shallbe I trust excused and innocent before God: Obedire (saith S. Peter) oportet Deo magis quam hominibus; I must obey God rather than men, 
Act ●  and must not in this case acknowledge a fault where none is. If to return into England Priest, or to say Mass be Popish treason, I here confess I am a traitor; but I think not so. And therefore I acknowledge myself guilty of these things, not with repentance or sorrow of heart, but with an open protestation of inward joy, that I have done so good deeds, which if they were to do again, I would by the permission and assistance of Almighty God accomplish the same, although with the hazard of a thousand lives.  
Which words M. Topliffe hearing, being much troubled therewith, scarce giving him leave to say a Pater noster, bade the Hangman turn the ladder, 
His casting off the ladder and unboweling  which in an instant being done, presently he caused him to be cut down, the Blessed martyr in the sight of all the beholders, being yet able to stand on his feet, & casting his eyes towards heaven, his senses were very little astonished, in so much that the Hangman was forced to trip up his heels from under him to make him fall on the block. And being dismembered, through very pain, in the hearing of many, with a loud voice he uttered these words, Oh it smarts; which M. Welles hearing, replied thus: Alas sweet soul thy pain is great indeed, but almost past, pray for me now most holy Saint, that mine may come. He being ripped up, & his bowels cast into the fire, if credit may be given to hundreds of People standing by, and to the Hangman himself, the blessed Martyr uttered (his heart being in the executioners hand) these words, Sancte Gregori ora pro me, which the Hangman hearing, with open mouth swore this damnable oath; God's wounds, See his heart is in my hand, and yet Gregory in his mouth; o egregious Papist! Thus the afflicted Martyr even to the last of his torments cried for the aid & succour of Saints, and especially of S. Gregory his devoted patron, and our countries. Apostle that by his intercession he might pass the sharpness of that torment.  
And thus with barbarous cruelty our thrice happy Martyr finished the course of his mortal life, and purchased no doubt a crown of immortality in the glorious Court of heaven. Wherefore now he triumpheth with all unspeakable joy, and beatitude amongst the number of those blessed martyrs who have in this world suffered all torments of persecution, 
His felicity in heaven  and have withstood Princes and Potentates, laws and lawmakers, for the honour and glory of their Lord and Saviour, and therefore have found true the comfortable saying of holy David, 
Psal. 126.  Qui seminant in lachrymis, in exultatione metent: They who sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Now so much the more is our Saint glorified, by how much the more he was tormented, according to that saying of S. Cyprian: Quò longior vestra pugna hic, corona sublimior; praesens tamen confessio quantò in passione fortior, tantò clarior & maior in honore. By how much your combat is the longer, by so much your crown shall be the higher; so that by how much stronger the present confession is in suffering, so much more glorious and greater it shall be in honour.   


Jussit amor pietasque sacram me tangere dextram:  
Cede loco pollex; cedere jussit amor.  OF A CERTAIN MIRAcle that happened at his death. CHAP. X.  
THUS HAVE I expressed, and related in a rude style the life and death of Edmund Geninges Priest, 
Many particulars of his life omitted for brevity sake  omitting for brevity sake many particulars; yet what I have written doth sufficiently manifest his exceeding great virtue and happiness, who by so glorious bathing of his body in his own blood, washed away all other defects of human frailty, & who by approved constancy and patience, passing courageously, as it were, through fire and water, attained to a Paradise of everlasting pleasure and rest. So his own Country which first sought to bring him to perdition by her infectious doctrine, brought him at last to heaven by her severe persecution.  
But now attend, I beseech you, how the glory of his martyrdom was declared and confirmed by an evident sign, 
The veneration of Relics.  showed by the hand of Almighty God, who by divine testimony manifested to the world the truth of his cause, & the greatness of his reward, making known also how acceptable a thing it is in his sight to esteem highly and reverence the sacred relics of his chosen Saints. And truly even in this his Martyr to the confusion of our Adversaries he gave great solace and comfort to Catholics concerning that point. And this it was. At the massacring of his body, as there were many Protestants who came rather to behold the spectacle than to pity the innocent: so were there many Catholics present also, who resorted to his execution, partly to see this good pastor, Qui pro ovibus suis animam suam posuit, 
john 10  who gave his life for the love of his sheep, partly by the sight thereof to confirm their faith, & increase their charity, and to get courage to embrace all like assaults and combats, if like occasion should be offered: and partly to participate, although not in act, yet at least in desire, with him in his martyrdom; yea and to animate our Champion now in the lists to greater magnanimty: for amicus praesens consolatio est afflictis, a present friend is a comfort to the afflicted, and S. Paul commandeth us, 
1. Thess. 5.  consolari invicem, to comfort one another.  
Amongst the rest there was a Virgin who had wholly dedicated herself to the service of God. She being desirous to be partaker of so great a merit, 
Desire to get some of his Relics.  and to get if it were possible some little part or parcel of his sacred flesh, or guiltless blood, powered on the ground, to keep as a perpetual relic for her private devotion, used all diligence to draw near to the Gibbet, that she might obtain her desire: but seeing herself frustrated of all in that kind, through the press of people, and also through danger of being discovered, devotion being her guide, she followed his quarters, as they were drawn back again to be boiled at Newgate, hoping there at the least to touch them, before they were dispersed to hang on the gates of the City, being as it were in despair of any greater benefit.  
And coming to the prison, the people flocked together to behold the fresh bleeding quarters, according to their wont custom, when any such thing is to be seen, before they were carried up to boiling, 
His quarters showed to the people.  desiring the executioner to show them piece by piece, that so their curiosity might give censure (as they said) whether he was fat or lean, black or fair. To satisfy their request, by chance Bull the Hangman took up one of his forequarters by the arm, which when he had showed to the People, he contemptuosly flung it down into the baskett again wherein it lay, and took up the head that they might see his face. And (as God would have it) both arm and hand of the foresaid quarter hung out over the sides of the basket, which the said virgin espying, drew near to touch it, and approaching warily with fear lest any should take notice of her so doing, having a determination and vehement desire to touch his holy & anointed thumb which then appeared next her, if it were possible; and because it was a part of his hand which so often had elevated the immaculate body of our B. Saviour jesus Christ, she purposed not to leave it unhandled for her last farewell.  
This her determination and purpose she presently performed, 
A miracle.  and taking the thumb in her hand, by the instinct of Almighty God, she gave it a little pull, only to show her love and desire of having it. The sequel was miraculous: for behold she not imagining any such matter would have followed, by the divine power, the thumb was instantly loosed from his hand, and being separated she carried it away safely both flesh, skin, and bone without sight of any, to her great joy and admiration. O strange and miraculous separation! O benefit past all requital! The thumb of a man newly dead and quartered, to depart from the hand, as it were, sponte sua, of it own accord, to pleasure a friend, that loved him so entirely, and that in the midst of so many hundreds of people, of a different Religion, yet not espied by any. But the strangeness thereof I leave to your pious consideration, confessing myself altogether unworthy, and not any ways able to explicate the worthiness of the same.  

The Virgin upon the foresaid miracle became a nun.  This young Gentlewoman presently upon this miraculous purchase, having fully resolved to forsake the vanities of the world, and especially this our troublesome Country, went not long after beyond the seas, carrying with her this precious Relic, which she much esteemed. There she devoted herself to S. Augustine, and is since become a venerable Nun of the same Order. Afterward she hearing of this Martyrs own brother to live in the Seminary at Douai, sent him for a token, a little piece of the same thumb, enclosed in a letter written with her own hand, protesting the verity of all the aforesaid narration.   


Jam Virtus, pietas, redeunt iam saecula prisca  
Tu Stephanus, Saulus dum tibi frater erat!  OF THE CONVERSION OF his Brother to the Catholic faith. CHAP. XI.  
SING I HAVE now again made mention of this our Martyr's brother, I think it will not be ungrateful to the Reader, if I relate briefly how he came to be a Catholic, 
The manner of his brother's Conversion.  & how afterward he took his journey to Douai, & there put in practise such his good purpose, as was to follow the steps of his dear brother, whose life & death I have rehearsed. Verily whosoever readeth it, shall find the intercession of this Saint to have been the only cause (next after God) of all his good. I have declared already how little hope there was of his Conversion, when his brother was living: for although he was young, yet was he obstinate, and rather inclined to a Puritanical spirit, than any way favouring the Catholic doctrine, nay he was ever brought up where he never heard any good report of a Catholic, no not so much, as that they were honest men.  
I have likewise showed the great desire the blessed Martyr had to bring his Brother to be a member of the Catholic Church, 
The obstinacy of his brother before his Conversion  & the great care he took for his conversion. I have further set down the Martyrs strange manner of finding him; and being found, the unbrotherly salutation he gave the finder, whose behaviour was such, as time and place would not give leave once to speak of Religion. Finally I have mentioned, that the cause of the holy Martyrs coming to London when he was taken, specially was his brother john's love: but indeed he was martyred before ever he could see him, and so he never used unto him any persuasions or reasons for Religion, nor yet commended he him to any one friends care, so hastened was his unexpected death. Now I will truly relate the manner of his Conversion, being it cannot but redound highly to the glory of God, and honour of the blessed Martyr, who by his prayers obtained that in heaven, which he himself could not effect on earth. Thus than it happened.  
This Martyr's Brother called john Geninges being in London at the very time of our Champion's apprehension, condemnation, & execution, hearing of the same, rather rejoiced, than any way bewailed the untimely & bloody end of his nearest allied, hoping thereby to be rid of all persuasions, which he mistrusted he should receive from him touching Catholic religion. 
The occasion of his brother's Conversion.  And through blind wilfulness intending to withstand all spirit of grace, he therefore neglected, yea rather scorned to go to see his brother, either imprisoned, arraigned, or martyred; such was the froward blindness of his heresy. But about ten days after his execution towards night, having spent all that day in sport and ioylity, being weary with play, he resorted home, where to repose himself he went into a secret chamber. He was no sooner there set down, but forthwith his heart began to be heavy, and his head melancholy, and he began to weigh how idly he had spent that day. When he was entered into such conceits, there presently was represented unto his mind a strange imagination, and apprehension of the death of his Brother, and amongst other things, how he did forsake not long before all worldly pleasure, & for his Religion only endured intolerable torments.  
Thus within himself he made long discourses concerning his Religion and his Brothers, comparing the Catholic manner of living with his, and finding the one to desire pain, the other pleasure, the one to live strictly, the other licentiously, the one to fear sin, the other to run into all kind of sin, being strooken with exceeding terror and remorse, he wept bitterly, desiring God, after his fashion, to illuminate his understanding, that he might see and perceive the truth. O what great joy & consolation felt he at that instant! Nay what reverence on the sudden began he to bear to the B. Virgin and the Saints of God, which before he had never scarce heard talk of! What strange motions, as it were inspirations, with exceeding readiness of will to change his Religion, possessed his soul! And what a heavenly conceit had he now of his dear brother's felicity! He imagined than he saw him; 
His brother's vow and perfomance  he thought he heard him. In this ecstasy of mind he stayed not long, before he vowed, as he lay prostrate on the ground, to forsake kindred and Country to find out the true knowledge of his brother's faith, which he soon after performed (although with much difficulty) and departed England without advertising anyone of his friends, and went beyond the seas to perform his former promise. Finally he attributed his Conversion wholly (next after God) to the intercession of his blessed brother.  
And truly no man according to reason can otherwise imagine, seeing of a Protestant he became a Catholic in faith, without persuasion or conference with any one man in the world. 
His final Conversion.  But sanguis Martyrum (as Tertullian saith) est semen Ecclesiae, The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church of Christ. Therefore we may now cease to marvel, seeing all England hath been sowed with like grain, that it hath already reaped at the least twenty for one, our spring still continuing, our harvest ever increasing. And seeing Almighty God hath vouchsafed to honour our Nation with so many glorious Martyrs, it remaineth that we beholding the manner of their conversation, may imitate their faith, and endeavour to follow their happy footsteps. In the mean time it behoveth us Catholics touching ourselves to pray for grace and perseverance in that which we have begun. Touching others, Charity cannot but enforce us to pray for their conversion.  
Let us therefore daily and hourly with the Prophet jeremy cry out unto our Lord: Recordare Domine, quid acciderit nobis: Intuere, 
The Conclusion.  & respice opprobrium nostrum: haereditas nostra versa est ad alienos: domus nostrae ad extraneos; pupilli facti sumus absque patre: matres nostr●e quasi viduae. O Lord remember what hath happened unto us: behold and see our great reproach; our inheritance is gone to strangers; our houses to aliens; we are become children without a father; our mothers are made as it were widows. Let us moreover in our private devotions, implore the suffrages of such holy Saints, who in our miserable Country have lost their lives for God's quarrel. And let us finally follow the counsel of holy S. Ephrem, saying: Imitemur Sanctos, ut per eorum merita cum ipsis in regnis caelestibus gaudeamus: Let us imitate Saints, that through their merits, we may joy with them in the heavenly kingdom. Which God of infinite goodness grant, for Christ jesus sake. Amen.  
FINIS.   

THE APPROBATION.  
VITA Sancti huius, ac constantissimi Martyris, & Sacerdotis, cuius pugna plurimùm crevit & pugnantis gloria, hoc libello sincerè descripta, proelo digna est, ut eius intuentes exitum, conversationis fidem imitentur. Audomaropoli 10. Feb. 1614  
joannes Redman S. Th. D. librorum Censor.   

A BRIEF RELATION BY WAY OF APPENDIX, Concerning the Life and Death of M. Swithune Welles Gentleman, companion and fellow-Martyr to the foresaid M. Edmund Geninges Priest.  

ALTHOUGH I have already briefly touched the ever-worthy Martyr M. Swithune Welles, 
Chap. 8. & 9  yet having now received a more ample Relation of his excellent virtues, shining both in his life and death, I am invited to set the same down by way of Appendix word for word as it came to my hands, that the blessed memory of so renowned a Champion of the Catholic faith may remain consecrated to all posterity.  
He was the youngest son of Thomas Welles Esquire, and brother to that Worthy Confessor Gilbert Welles Esquire, whose immovable constancy a midst so many, 
His birth & family  & so great persecutions under the late Queen Elizabeth, hath been highly Honourable unto the Cath. Cause, establishing a happy posterity behind him, enriched with the ample inheritance of his approved virtues.  
This Swithune being virtuously educated from his infancy, & carefully instructed in all manner of learning fitting that age, as he was very pregnant of wit & understanding; so by his especial industry and diligence he became so singularly qualified, especially in the studies of humanity, 
His virtuous education  as he not only equalled, but far excelled most of his fellows. He was kind of nature, pleasant of conceit, courteous of behaviour, generous in courage, affable in speech; briefly all his deportment was so prudently seasoned with urbanity, that he delighted his familiars, gained friends, & quailed his enemies.  
From studies he fell to other laudable exercises fitting his degree, but being now grown to some riper years, he took to wife a virtuous Gentlewoman, who together with himself being most unjustly condemned to death, after a long and hard imprisonment yielded her blessed soul into the hands of her Creator, in the constant confession of our Holy Faith, in the prison of Newgate, in the year of our Lord 1602.  
In this estate as he grew more mature in age, so he did in virtues. To the provident care of a good master of a family he adjoined many other excellent employments, highly to his praise and honour. For although he were much delighted in hawking, hunting, and other such Gentlemanlike sports, yet he so soberly governed his affections therein, 
His exercise in riper years.  that he was content to deprive himself of a great part of those pleasures, & retire to a more profitable employment of training up young Gentlemen both in virtue & learning: wherein he had such happy success, that his School hath been as it were a fruitful Seminary to many worthy members of the Catholic Church, whereof one hath already gained the crown of martyrdom, others yet remain, some industrious & painful workmen in the happy harvest of souls, & some continue strong & immovable pillars to support the Cath. Cause against to many grievous storms, and tempests as are daily raised against it.  
I shall not need here to speak how temperate he was in prosperity, how contented in adversity. You shall hear himself an undoubted witness hereof, excellently expressing the same in his own words, taken out of a letter of his, directed unto a worthy Gentleman M. Gerard Marin his brother-in-law, whose virtuous life and death in the constant profession of our holy faith deserveth also great praise and renown in the Cath. Church. 
His imprisonment.  Thus than he writeth, being now a prisoner in the Clink.  
The Comforts which Captivity bringeth, are so manifold, that I have rather cause to thank God highly for his Fatherly correction, then to complain of any worldly misery whatsoever: Dominus de caelo in terram aspexit, ut audiret gemitus compeditorum. Exaudivit pauperes, & vinctos suos non despexit. Introcat in conspectu tuo gemitus compeditorum. potius mihi habetur affici pro Christo, quam honorari à Christo. These and the like cannot but comfort a good Christian, and cause him to esteem his captivity to be a principal freedom, his prison a heavenly harbour, and his irons an ornament, and comely badge of Christ himself. These will plead for him, and the prison will protect him. God send me withal the prayers of all good folks to obtain some end of all miseries, 
His courage & constancy in the Catholic faith.  such as to his holy will and pleasure shallbe most agreeable. I have been long time endurance, & endured much pain, but the many future rewards in the heavenly payment make all pains seem to me a pleasure. And truly custom hath caused, that it is now no grief to me at all to be barred from company, desiring nothing more than solitariness; but rather I rejoice that thereby I have the better occasion with prayer to prepare myself to that happy end, for which I was created, and placed here by God, assuring myself always of this one thing, that how few soever I see, yet am I not alone: Solus non est, cui Christus comes est. When I pray, I talk with God, when I read he talketh to me, so that I am never alone. He is my chiefest companion, and only comfort: Cum ipso sum in tribulatione.  
I have no cause to complain of the hardness of prison, considering the effects thereof, and the rather because I fasten not my affection upon worldly vanities, whereof I have had my fill, to my great grief and sorrow. I renounced the world before ever I tasted of imprisonment, even in my Baptism, 
His joy in suffering for Christ.  which being so, how little doth it import in what place I be in the world, sith by promise I vowed once never to be of the world, which promise & profession how slenderly soever I have kept heretofore, I purpose for the time to come, God assisting me with his grace in my commenced enterprise, to continue to my lives end. Mundus mihi crucifixus est, & ego mundo. Absit mihi gloriari, nisi in cruse Christi. I utterly refuse all commodities, pleasures, pastimes & delights, saving only the sweet service of God, in whom is the perfection of all true pleasures. Vanitas vanitatum, & omnia vanitas praeter amare Deum. Bound I am, and charged with guys, yet am I loose and unbound towards God. And far better I account it to have the body bound, than the soul to be in bondage, living at liberty. 
His hard usage in prison.  But what mean I to make so many words to you that know this better than myself. Bear with me I pray you for my boldness, & pardon me if I be over tedious. Hoc solùm efficit amor. To conclude with some other matter: So it is that I have here enclosed a Letter of a contrary effect to this, directed to a man of a contrary Religion, wherein you may peruse my estate & understand my request. In case you shall so think good, you may deliver the same, and further the matter. I would not have sued to be rid out of this most vile and chargeable prison, if I had wherewith to defray so exceeding great expenses: for the more vile and hard usage, the more merit. I am hardly threatened which danger of death. But if it be no worse, I will not wish it to be better▪ God send me his grace, and then I weigh not what flesh & blood can do unto me I have answered unto many curious and dangerous questions, but I trust with good advisement, not offending my conscience. What will become of it, God knoweth best, to whose holy protection I commit you. è Carcere & Catenis ad Regnum.  
Tuus dum vixero, Sw. W.   

Lo here the Heroical resolution of this noble mind! see to what sublimity of Christian perfection his holy sufferings soon advanced him! Briefly his ever memorable deeds far surpassed his words. 
His resolution to die for the Cath faith.  How unconquerable was he in the greatest heat and fury of his persecutions! How undaunted at the dreadful sentence of death, of all terribles the most terriblest? How religiously disposed! how zealousely prepared! how completely armed did he enter the field to fight the battle of our Lord; like a valiant captain of Christ's well-ordered Army! For even in the way to his execution seeing by chance an old acquaintance of his, he could not forget his wont mirth, but saluted him in these words. Farewell dear friend (saith he) farewell all hawking, hunting, and old pastimes, I am now going a better way.  
Finally being now come to the place of execution (which for his greater terror, and reproach was contrived before his own house, in Grays-Inne-field, 
His martyrdom  on the North side of Holborn) as one overjoyed with the burning desire of holy martyrdom, he was so far from entreating any least respite of life, as that he rather hastened the executioner to accomplish his greatly expected death. Dispatch M. Topliffe (quoth he) dispatch, are you not ashamed to suffer an old man to stand here so long in his shirt in the could? I pray God make you of a Saul a Paul, of a Persecutor a Catholic Professor. And in these & other like sweet speeches, full of Christian piety, charity, and magnanimity, he happily consummated the blessed course of this his mortal life, with the Crown of a glorious Martyrdom, the 10. day of December, in the year 1592.  
O blessed life! O happy death! The whole Church triumphant of heaven rejoiceth in your victories: 
An Apostophe to the Cath. of England  the whole Cath. Church militant on earth exulteth in your triumphs. Let then our Cath. Nobility and Gentry emulate, & imitate this rare example. Hence may they learn how sweet the yoke of Christ is, which seemeth to worldly minds so hard and difficult; how easy and light the burden is, which seemeth so heavy & insupportable. This magnanimous spirit & inflamed zeal our holy martyr learned in the school of tribulation & persecution, growing with the great Apostle, then most strong when he was most weakened, then most cheerful when he was most afflicted; then most courageous, when he was most fiercely assaulted. Let not then your generous hearts be dismayed, let not your noble courages be quailed: cast yourselves securely and confidently into this heavenly furnace, where your faith and constancy being once tried, shall like most pure and refined gold give a far more glorious lustre, shining before Men and Angels, to the greater glory of your eternal Father, who graciously vouchsafeth magnificently to Crown all these transitory & momentary sufferings, with eternal rewards.  
FINIS.