THE HISTORY OF S. ELIZABETH DAUGHTER OF THE KING OF HUNGARY. According to sundry Authors who have authentically written her Life, distributed into three Books. By H. A.  
Permissu Superiorum.  
M. DC. XXXII.   

To the Right honourable the Lady MARY TENHAM.  
MADAM,  
You have here a king's Daughter, a chaste Wife, a holy Widow, a glorious Saint. Great in birth, to illustrat virtue. A Mirror in wedlock, of conjugal perfection. A Precedent in Widowhood, for chaste retirement. And a Queen for sanctity, now crowned in Heaven. You have also here a fair & goodly Microcosm, with its four dimensions. Altitude in the height of the extraction; Profundity in the depth of humility; Latitude in the capaciousnes thereof; And Longitude, in a patient longanimity. In the East, of this little World, the Sun arising, displays the beams of royalty & princely Majesty. In the South, mounting the Meridian line of her life, ●…t darts forth rays of piety, with a heat, & fervour of devotion. In the North it endures an Eclipse, as it were, overcast with clouds, & storms of affliction. And finally in the West, the Sun sets to a temporal life, to rise again with radiant beams, to an eternity of glory. Would you know the Spring, you find it in her birth; virtue budding forth with innocence of life; if the Summer;) You may behold her decked with her greener fruits. For the winter, the season if you note it well; you shall perceive her covered all with frosts of sharp adversities. But if you contemplate, the Autumn of her Harvest, imagine you see her now enjoying her hundred fold. Where, she in Heaven, amongst the rest, is your Advocate; you therefore in Earth (I hope), and Deign, to patronise her tablet here, this little book, an abstract of her life, a true Epitome of her greatness, and some manner of testimony of his gratitude, ●…o your Ladyship; who must & ver shall demayne.  
Your Honour's faithful servant in our Lord. H. A.   

TO THE READER.  
GENTLE READER,  
Having lately translated the life of S. Aldegond, with title of Princess & Abbess, proposing her as a lively imitable pattern of Religious women to either Sex: I thought good of myself, now to select likewise an other of the blessed Saints of heaven, to exhibit, as an excellent Model, & ●…dea, to frame the life by, in all those honourable states of that Sex. Which I have done with no little hazard, I fear me, of my own reputation to give satisfaction to some friends, who●… sweetly I must confess, and powerfully, have extorted it from me. Ther●… remains now (Good courteous Reader▪ to give thee account of the manne●… and method I use, the rather, becaus●… I seem not to tract the steps, of th●… most Writers of the lives of Saints.  
Some there are so scrupulous in th●… matter of History, who as if they were to make an Inventory of goods, or to Copy out a Court Role of good importance; will not have a word more or less, than they find averred by Authors from point to point.  
Whereas this here is merely of an other kind, not copied forth, or literally extracted from any Precedent of her Life, but drawn and derived from the golden Mines of the approved Lives of Saints, as Surius, and john Basil Santor, in his Book entitled Pratum Spirituale, who both, had borrowed the same from jacobus Montanus of the city of Spire in Germany, not well to be contradicted.  
Behold the foundation of the History; as for the lineaments which are nothing substantial to the matter, they stand rather as ornaments thereof, and proceed from the liberty of him, who assumes so much upon himself, to embellish and cover the nakedness of a bare Narration, which breeds but a loathing and tedious fastidiousness in the Reader: These I say are strokes of my pencel to heighten and adorn it or else borrowed from the rudiments of some Masters of spirit; to edify withal; which, next to the lively example of the Saint, is the secondary scope I aim at in this work: Being otherwise a pious story, and of itself powerful to excite the will, and move devotion to the Saint; On which (as I said) I have laid some colours, as a Limmer on a simple cut of black and white.  
This have I said to let thee see, friendly Reader, my sincerity in this point, and to win a confidence in thee towards me. Whereas indeed, as it is not the custom in the Exchequer to peise so scrupulously each light piece of silver, to find whether it be weight or no; but to pass them together with the other pieces of more weight, currant with the rest. And as in traffic and commerce it were too importune, to be still calling for scales for every single penny; so is it likewise in handling the pen, to be put to the iustify●…ng of every little thing which makes not much to the purpose whether true or false. It is only in dancing the cinque pace and measures, that men stand numbering their paces, and not in performing of long voyages.  
True resemblance as the Daughter of Truth, & conjecture the Daughter of true resemblance, being all as Grandmother, Mother, & Daughter, have great sympathyes and powerful correspondencyes with each other. So as if apparent impossibility, absurdity, or extreme unlikelyhoods cause not a breach, there will appear a goodly harmony amongst them. And truly we should be too precise, to set down a List here of all the scruples that might be made of trifling exceptions in this kind, by such as are captious and curious censurers of things indifferent; who have their eyes filled with a noxious humour, that makes them behold all things of the colour the defluxion is. Who should do rather like those, that listen to a Lute, with a judicious ear, that meeting by chance, with some light touch or other, scarce sensible, among a number of better strokes, through the prompt volubility of the Lutenests hand in running his divisions, dissemble the same and reflect on the rest, which lose not their grace awhit for so light a fault, and hold such slurrs as ornaments, rather to the rest, and as moles in a beautiful face, which grace the same.  
Thus, gentle Reader, you have the full satisfaction I can give you herein: This only I must needs admonish you, that you be not troubled, when you meet with another Treatise of this Saint, more curiously and elaboratly written by a neater quill, but to account the same as it is; an Abstract rather of her Life directed to a noble Lady, and consequently most apt for such, who likely afford not leisure to attend to treatises of greater bulk. Whereas this same here is meant for all, and intended as I said, as a model and pattern of the three states & conditions of Women living in the world: While here if they be Virgins, they shall find very notable Examples in her life, being a Virgin: If Wives, they may see how to carry themselves, and to lead a life meritoriously with their husbands: if Widows they may learn by her to contemn the vanities of the world, and if they be Ladies and Princesses, they may behold how great a Lady she was, notwithstanding her so great annihilation of herself, as shall appear in the Treatise. She being the Infanta of Hungary, a mighty Monarchy, Duchess, and wife of the Landgrave of Thuringia, and Princess of Hassia, Protectress, and Patroness of the Nuns and Religious of the third Order of the Penitents of S. Francis. To whom I fly for succour and assistance in these my labours in her service, and to your favourable acceptance of that little I am able to perform to serve you with.   


THE TABLE OF THE FIRST Book.  
CHAP. I. THE Parents, Birth, Infancy, & Espousalles of Elizabeth. Chap. 1. pag. 1.  
The Pretty sports and Entertainments of Elizabeth in her Chilhood: the Death of the Prince her Father in Law, and the devotion she used. Chap. 2. p. 13.  
How Elizabeth was contemned by Sophia, and Agnes her Mother, and Sister in Law; with the rest of the Court. Chap. 3. p. 3.  
How the young Prince, Lewes declared his affection to Elizabeth, notwithstanding the malignity of her Adversaries. Chap. 4. p. 38.  
How Elizabeth being ma●…ryed, remitted not her devotions a whit; and how she carried herself in her Mortifications. Chap. 5. p. 52,  
How Elizabeth submits herself to the Obedience of one Conrade, a religious Priest: and what followed thereof. Chap. 6. p. 59  
How Elizabeth contemns all bravery and vanity of Apparel, persuading other Ladies to do the same. Chap. 7. p. 72.  
What Charity Elizabeth showed to her Neighbour: & how she gave the clothes from her back to the poor. Chap. 8. p. 85  
Certain admirable effest of Elizabeth's affection to voluntary Poverty: and the works she wrought in that kind. Chap. 9 p. 99  
The devout and pious exercises of Elizabeth, at the Sacrifice of the Mass. Chap. 10. p. 113.  
Of the great Charity of Elizabeth, to her neighbour, and her exceeding liberality to the poor. Chap. 11. p. 125.  
Of a complaint made against Elizabeth, to her husband: With some examples of his Noble disposition therein▪ Ch. 12. p. 140.   

The second Book.  
CHAP. I. THE publishing of the Croysado, and the manner how it first b●…ganne. p. 53.  
How the Croysado being published anew, the Landgrave secretly received the Cross, & went to mere with the Emperor in Sicily. Ch. 2. p. 163.  
The arrival of the Landgrave in Sicily, where the Emperor was: his Death, and the Lamentation, made by Elizabeth for him. Ch. 3. p. 175  
How Henry Brother to the deceased Landgrave usurped the Dukedom: and ejected Elizabeth and her Children from all their righe. ●… Chap. 4. p. 185  
To especial favours, and sweet consolations from God, which Elizabeth had in hearing of Mass, and otherwise. Chap 5. p. 198.  
Elizabeth visits her Aunt an Abbess, and then her Vn●…lo, the Bishop of Bamberg: who plotted to have her married, but in vain. Chap. 6. p. 206  
How the body of Prince Lewis was brought out of Sicily into Germany to be buried. Chap. 7. p. 219.  
How the Noblemen expostulate with Prince Henry, what obtain what they desire, and what Elizabeth did thereupon. Ch. 8. p. 363.  
How the Pope took notice of Elizabeth's Sanctity, and received her into his protection: and how she made her profession of the Third Order of Saint Francis. Chap. 9 p. 231  
How Elizabeth built herself a poor Cottage, while her house was building in the City: and what a holy life she led afterwards. Chap. 10. p. 243.  
How Conrade dismissed two of Elizabeth chiefest Maids: and how strict a life she led in extreme poverty. Chap. 11. p. 254.  
A certain Nobleman of Hungary endeavours in vain to persuade Elizabeth to return▪ with him to her Father, and what acts of humility she showed. Chap. 12. p. 276.   

The Third Book.  
CHAP. I. OF the exceeding Charity of S. Elizabeth towards her Neighbour, especially the sick: With her great humility. p. 291.  
How Elizabeth delivers the soul of the Queen her Mother from Purgatory, with her prayers: and likewise procured the vocation of a certain libertine unto-religion. Chap. 2. p. 301.  
The great liberality and mercy of Elizabeth, showed after she had recovered her portion into her hands. Chap. 3. p. 211.  
Of a certain accident which showed how Elizabeth had likewise the gift of Prophecy: With her charitable acts in relief of the poor. Chap. 4. p. 322.  
The Charity of Elizabeth to the Neighbour in spiritual mercies: and particularly of her singular gift of Prayer. Chap 5. p. 336.  
How Elizabeth fell sick, the manner of her sickness: and of the happy end which she made. Chap. 6. p. 346.  
The funeral Offices of the glorious Elizabeth, are piously performed: With a touch only of her singular virtues. Chap. 7. p. 356.  
The canonisation of Saint Elizabeth: the Translation of her Body: and the relation of her miracles. Ch. 8. p. 365.  
A continuation of the Miracles wrought at the Shrine of S. Elizabeth after the Translation of her Body. Chap. 9 p. 376.  
A Table collected of the eminent virtues and perfections of S. Elizabeth, concluding with a Prayer to the Saint. Chap. 10. p. 388.   
FINIS.   
THE HISTORY OF S. ELIZABETH INFANTA OF HUNGARY.  


The Parents, Birth, Infancy, & espousals of Elizabeth. CHAP. I.  
HUNGARY, the utmost Thuly of the Turkish Empire, or impetuous inundation of the Ottom●… race, which now long ●…ince tirannized upon Asia the greater ●…nd the less, and of this side found its bar at least in the Danuby; hath had Geyza, the first Christian King of that Monarchy; who being once baptised, gave seriously himself to propagate the Christian faith through his kingdom, therein assisted by the Almans. Stephen his son, who is enrooled in the number and Catalogue of the Saints, was King after him, in the year of Grace 997. He espoused the Sister of the Emperor S. Henry, called Gizele, & by her amongst other Children, had S. Emerick, who died young before his Father. Peter his Nephew of his Sister's side, succeeded him, who living luxuriously and viciously, was by the Hungars thrust out of the kingdom, and Aba S. Stephen's brother in law put into his place. Who living worse than Peter▪ was hated for his pride, & slain in the Wars, in the third year of his reign; and Peter recalled again; who governing more like a Tyrant than a King, exercising great cruelty upon Priests, and profaning, and pillaging the Church, had his eyes at last ph●…kt out of his head, on the second year, after his recall: And Andrew Cousin of S. Stephen advanced to the Throne after him, who reestablished the Christian Religion in Hungary, and re-edified the Temples which had been demolished. After which, Andrew, by the interposition of thirteen kings succeeding one an other in the same Monarchy, a second Andrew entered into the Throne, not a whit inferior to the former; but in valour and fortitude exceeding him far, according to the Etymology of his name in Greek, which signify Manhood, Fortitude, and Valour.  
This happy King, and Monarch of that ample state, as he was renowned for his provess, and absolute authority, thereby gained and purchased upon that Realm; so was he most conspicuous in the eyes of men; for governing that kingdom with such equity, justice, and religion; as though his life, otherwise, were full of many noble archieuments in wars, yet his wisdom and prudence, in government, being the essential part of his royal dignity, immortalised him more, than his martial exploits, which for personal performance he recommended to his Captains, Commanders, and Generals in the field, willing rather to put his victorious sword, into their hands; who knew how to brandish it abroad, then to be wanting to his sceptre at home, which none could wield or manage like himself.  
But that which made him more happy than the rest, was the worthy Choice he made of a dear Consort and individual companion, of either fortunes, such as that noble Princess was, the Lady Gertrude daughter of the Duke of Carinthia, who being admired for her rare beauty, and Princely parentage, was yet more amiable to the world for her sage prudence and fair demeanours, for which she was more esteemed: then for the Lilies and Roses of her Cheeks, and greater iustre of her family.  
As well appeared, as often as occasion served, when her dear Lord, was forced to absent himself from his royal seat, & she fain to supply his room, which she did full loath, and most unwillingly, and yet so wisely that one could hardly tell, which most excelled, a princely Modesty, or Prudence in her. So discreet and practical she was in government, as if made for Sceptres, while she sat upon the Throne; and yet so ignorant again of such matters, sitting in her Chamber with her Ladies, while her Husband swayed the sceptre in his person; as she seemed to know no more, than her needle, and how to set forth her works in silks, which she did most curiously indeed.  
In fine, they were both most happy, he in her, and she in him, and it were hard to say, which the more, since the world afforded not a better pay—. Yea happy Hungary the while, where reigned such a Sun and Moon by turns, in the Hemisphere of that flourishing region. But yet more happy far, and more illustrious they shine in the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy; for bringing forth into the world such a Star, as S. Elizabeth was. Thus far hath she been borrowing Light, & lustre from them; but now like a Hesperus, she begins to arise, and appear herself in this firmament of ours, to glad both the heavens & earth with her presence, with such fair preparations as these, making her royal entry into the world. And that with reason, since in triumphs, the ways where Princes are to pass in their first entrances are strewen with flowers, & adorned with tapestryes: & what better flowers, can we strew before our S. then the virtues of her Stem, whence she is derived: what fairer Tapestries than the noble portraits of her most renowned Parents, to precede, as it were, the procession of her life.  
When Gertrude Queen of Hungary, was found to be with child, you may imagine, what joy and jubilee there was; Who joys not, at the chanting of the Cock, as being the sign, albeit remote, of the gladsome day at hand; but when as day begins to break; and the Aurora appears; Men do begin to open their eyes, to entertain the wished star of the day, & by the Aurora, will the wiser of them guess, at the future day. The Aurora now was come, while Gertrude, in the hours of expectation, approached to her childbirth. When Elinsor, a famous ginger of those days, devoted to the princely Couple desirous either to satisfy his own curiosity, or to comply with that of others; gazing on the stars, and observing their constellations, did calculate the Nativity of the new borne child. And found after he had turned over the whole Ephemerideses; that a Damsel was then to be borne, of that royal lineage, whose name should be Elizabeth, foretelling her good inclinations, virtues, and miracles, how she was to be married, and what the name of her Spouse should be; that all should hold her, for the joy and delight of the Church, and she prove very singular in graces and spiritual endowments through the course of her whole life. These were the sage, prognosticates of that ginger, by the help of his Art: If art may be said to go so far as to derive, upon the operations of the mind; which I list not here to examine. It sufficeth his conjecture at least, was not amiss, and his credit with men & authority so great, as to breed an extraordinary expectation in them of some rare creature to be shorly borne and come into the world.  
And now behold the time was come, and Gertrude happily delivered, of a daughter, and such a one, as bred an universal joy in Court, and City, no place that was not filled with signs of triumph, especially at her entrance into the Church, by the laver of Baptism, when she put on, the candid robe of innocency, washed with the blood of the immaculate Lamb whereof she was never despoiled, to her dying day. A great confusion doubtless to us Mortals, who not contented to break our first faith, in staining this robe, but after so many wholesome baths of Penance return to contaminate, the same again and again, and I would to God, no more again.  
Elizabeth, for so now she is enroled in the book of life, to be canceled never, as yet hanging on her Mother's breast; (for she commits not that treasure, to the trust of any) that she might truly be a Mother wholly, and not to halves. Herman Landgrave of Thuringia, having at that time likewise a Son newly borne, called Lewes, and hearing of the universal acclamation made, at the double Birth of this rare a Phoenix, partly through the good Omen, he conceived thereof, and partly to match in so royal a Family; dispatches Ambassadors, with good expedition to Andrew King of Hungary, to demand Elizabeth, for Spouse for his said Lewes. Such it seems was the tenor of those days, and is yet in practice now and then, among greatest Princes, for reason of State, to unite their kingdoms stronger to each other, still leaving the parties, to their full choice, when they come to the years of Election.  
No marvel then, if Andrew, with his dearest Gertrude, after the matter had been throughly debated by his prudent Council, gave so free & easy consent thereto: for he sent away the Ambassadors well satisfied with his royal promise.  
But the Landgrave, now at last, the Infants being grown to be three or four years of age, desirous to have such a jewel in his house, sent his Ambassadors a new to fetch that precious treasure into his State, seeing no reason that since she was to be inserted into the house of Thuringia, and was to flourish in that garden; but she should take her greener sap from that soil, and begin so young to frame herself, to the customs of that Land, having other reasons for the same beside: & so likewise had Andrew & Gertrude on their parts important motives, to hold her still with them, & not so soon to enrich Thuringia, with the impoverishing of Hungary, but least Nature, being but the one, might be thought to be the whole impediment, being prudent as they were, and not willing to take so weak an imputation on themselves, they gave order, for her sending to Thuringia.  
The Queen, sent with her a rich furniture for her Chamber, with a Cupboard of plate, of gold & silver, & many precious jewels of inestimable value, also diverse cabinets of prettis toys to entertain her infancy withal; and sundry chains bracelets, earing, carcanets, Chests of the finest lynnens, with other things besides well befitting such a Princess. The King for his part, sent his royal word, to allow her so much by the year, as should maintain her a convenient Court, fit for such a Princess, until such time, as the espousals were solemnised, when, he would send her portion agreed upon, at one entire payment; and for the present sent her so attended, as became his Daughter.  
In this equipage, after a million of kisses of the Child, by the tender Parents, at its departure from the Court of Hungary, went the Ambassadors, of each part, with the treasure of heaven, very charily and tenderly carrying the same with easy journeys, till they came to the Metropolis, where the Landgrave held his Court: Where being arrived (performing their Embassage to the Princely Father and the Duchess), they presented the Spouse to the young Prince, who with a gracious & smiling countenance received her, to the great satisfaction and joy of all. I will not stand here, to number the shows & triumphs made in that City, to welcome this great little Ghost, what fireworks were made, what triumphal Arks set up, in fine, what not, that might any ways seem to give forth pomp & magnificence in a high measure. But that which passed all, was, the cheerfulness, read in the countenances of all, but especially in the Landgrave, & his Duchess themselues, who as then presages in this happy arrival, an unspeakable blessing to themselues, their family, & whole estate.  
But o disaster, after a three years' space, the news is brought to Court, how that fair Gertrude mirror of Queens, the goodly Cynthia of the Hungarian skies in the plenitude and fullness of her temporal felicity, not without some probable signs of her predestination, through a constant course at least, and perseverance in a virtuous life, by some conjectures was cruelly thought to be murdered by the treachery of the Nobles of that Land; to the great lamentation of all the virtuous and good, as for the loss of a great stay and Pillar of that State, the little Elizabeth now being seven years of age.   

THE PRETTY SPORTS AND Entertaynements of Elizabeth in her Childhood: the Death of the Prince her Father in Law, and the devotion she used. CHAP. II.  
HEre now imagine Death to have been a sleep, the while this glorious Queen Gertrude enjoyed the Sunshine of her Life; and that he now began to awake and rouse himself to gather Roses, in their chiefest prime and fullest growth. Nor doth he always attend so long, but often takes them in the bud: Howbeit this Rose was taken off by cruel Death, in her chiefest flourishing of all. God bless the bud the while, the issue of this Rose, that now begins to peer indeed in the garden of the world, & give forth shows ere she be aware of her future sanctity. For lo by this time, knowing rather by instinct, and the unction of the Holy Ghost▪ then any reading, or help of any other exterior Master, besides her Paranimph, or Angel Guardian; of what importance was, the singular and special devotion to the Saints of God, being of his proper family, and dearest to him, & such as continually assist in his presence, & never take off their eyes from beholding him face to face: And knowing yet beside, that howbeit, they are ever pressed & ready to attend to their devotee's at all times, & places, where & whensoever with true Devotion they are called upon; Yet more particularly in places, where Temples, chapels, Altars, & Oratoryes are peculiarly dedicated to their honour, being properly the House of God, where he is pleased best to give audience, & receive the Memorials, suits, & petitions of men. She therefore often resortes thither, & there, before every Altar would sometimes kneel, & sometimes bow down her body reverently, in others presence doing what suited best with her dignity: but alone she would prostrate herself on the floor, & steal some amorous kisses from the ground, & most comonnly lift up her hands to her breast; and likely always, cast up her eyes to heaven except sometimes when she closed them to look into herself. O rare Bud of Sanctity and most angelical Infant, not more of Hungary or of Thuringia, then of Paradise itself!  
If in the Palace she had found the Chapel doors to be shut; she would not wholly lose her labour, but reverently kneel at the threshold, and kiss them devoutly; nor came she ever without some suit or petition in her mouth, or in her hart at least. How many times, being in the heat of her sports, with the rest of her companions, and equals in years, though in virtue and dignity, not like to her, she would lay wagers, who in running should first arrive at the Chapel door, to have occasion thereby to make frequent Visitts of the venerable and most blessed Sacrament: So burning was the ardour of her Love to her heavenly Spouse, whom she knew to sit within the Veil or curtain of those Species there. In the midst of her childish sports, she often took occasion to perform some act of humiliation or other; and that so prettily, as seemed not to be industriously done but merely unawares, when as in truth, she would do it of set purpose. Sometimes moreover when she played at cards with her Ladies, and happily had won any money of them she distributed the same among her Maids of the poorer sort, obliging them of duty, at least to say a Pater and Aue for her.  
She was now passing into the Ninth year of her age, when suddenly beyond all expectation, the Landgrave, Father to her Spouse Lewes, departed this life, to the great astonishment & dismay no doubt of the whole state, finding itself so untimely deprived, of its head, and the weight of so flourishing a Dukedom, as Thuringia, now like to press, if not oppress the infant shoulders of the new Prince. But necessity hath no Law, and Death as lawless as necessity makes but a sport of Chests, of the life of Man, and as soon gives a check to a King or Queen, as to a Pawn, and the State the while must be content, to take their chance or fortune as it is; and make their best of their fickle and transitory game. by speedy substitution of some Protector of that Government and Prince, which here we intermeddle not with, as hasting rather to the tender Princess herself, the Argument in hand. Who, as the dawning of the Day hitherto, now begins to appear more clear, then ever in the Little World or Hemisphere of the Duchy of Thuringia to a perfect Day. For look as her years increased, so the sparks of her childish and innocent devotions, and virtues began more seriously to enkindle, and take fire in her hart, which the more intensely burned and flamed within her as she wisely went about to conceal them in her breast.  
One of the things, which Saints & spiritual men do much recommend, is the frequent memory of God. For besides the work in itself, most grateful and pleasing to him, it includes an act of Religion and of Prayer, fulfilling 
Luc ca 18. 1.  the same of our Saviour. We must always pray and never give over; and also other acts beside, as Faith, Hope, and Charity, and the rest, and is most profitable for all, to keep them from falling into Sin or defects. So live thou with men as if God had his Eyes still cast upon thee: Said Seneca the Heathen. This ground now of spiritual building, wheresoever the Infant had it; she infallibly laid; while she took the resolution she made, to have always God before her eyes, even in these tender years in all her actions whatsoever.  
Upon which foundation she built this Heroical purpose, for his sake to abandon all the delights and pleasures of the world, all bravery in apparel with their variety of fashions, in affection at least. And moreover to leave the pampering & delicacyes of the flesh, yea more, all the vanities of the world, not contented to refuse them only, but even with a holy Tiramny from that time forwards to trample them under foot.  
And forasmuch as in her constant resolution, it was needful to beg divine assistance, more than ordinary, she took up certain devotions, which she likely omitted not upon any occasion; so as if she chanced at any time to forget them by day, she faithfully supplied them in the night: applying herself most devoutly to the Mother of God, the incomparable Virgin, to vouchsafe to patronise & second her pious intentions, & to mediate her cause with her Son, whom she presumed could deny her nothing: then to her Angel Guardian, whom she conjured to look unto his charge, & not to suffer her to break her new made purposes. She even passed through the whole Hierarchy of Angels & SS. of heaven from the highest Seraphin, to the Thief on the cross, to make intercession for her.  
But above all, she addicted herself to the glorious Apostle and Evangelist S. john, calling him by all the amorous words she could devose, as to whom she had particular devotion, & whom freely and affectuously she had chosen above the rest. According it should seem to the laudable practice now a days to make choice of some singular Patron, to recur to in all necessities, and to serve with infatigable constancy to the end. Him she conjured with a thousand titles, as well general as proper to him: as Trumpe●…t of Israel, Organ of the Living God, Notary of Heaven, Secretary of the Estate of the Church, high flying Eagle, especial Favourite of the Spouse, the dear beloved of JESUS: that he would help to establish and ratify her pious purpose of serving God his Master and hers, in a more eminent manner, than hitherto she had done. To which intent to engage him the more; though she had already so especially and singularly chosen him before; she obtained of God, in the common suffrages or Election of Saints, which according to custom was used there, that she might ●…raw him and no other, which to her unspeakable joy and comfort she did, for thrice together. And therefore in●…eed so highly she honoured this select Patron of hers, the glorious Apostle and most illumined Evangelist S. john, so leaning, as it were, on his Lord's breast, as well now in heaven, as once he did, at the last Supper, the figure of that divine Paschall. And further ever after from that time forwards, she so highly reverenced & honoured this Saint & Patron of hers, as she verily thought she was not to deny any thing to any who begged or craved in his name.  
The Holy days she observed most punctually and religiously indeed, according to her years & capacity: When she would lay aside some part of her dress & attires; esteeming on those days, quite contrary to the use of her Peers, & the practice of those times; the best decking & ornament of all, to ●…e the Beauty of the Soul within, holding it to be a grateful to be devout & reverend in his presence, without the glittering of these pearls and precious Stones, then to prank herself with all those toys, whereby the hart becomes full of vanity and distraction; and therefore ordinarily she left off her gloves, at least so long as the Service or Mass lasted, being desirous by degrees to break her will, though in smaller things, that she might hereafter arise to more noble reflections, and gain more noble conquests on herself. Imagining, though the thing was but little in it self, yet being done in respect & memory of the Passion, represented there in the dreadful Mystery of the present Sacrifice, it would doubtless be grateful and acceptable to God.  
Many times she would say to her Ladies about her. Sisters, for the Love of our Lord jesus Christ, let us wear no gloves, nor put on any silk, gold, or jewels to day, nor eat but of one dish only, or abstain from such a dish, and forbear at least to dance this day, or to play at cards, or the like. And with these beginnings, abstaining merely for the Love of God, by little and little she gathered, and they by her example, the celestial fruits of Virtue. When she played at any time and won, so as fortune seemed to smile upon her; she would say it was now time to give over; because she was flattered with prosperity: reflecting the while, if men so rejoiced with a little breath of prosperity or encouragement of so light a gain, what would they do when occasion served, that the Holy Ghost were pleased to breath upon them, and they to obtain the Margarits and Pearls of the joys of Heaven? In danceing likewise which she could not eschew to satisfy the Nobles, she was content with one grave and solemn measure only, saying; it was sufficient with one stryene, to give satisfaction to the world and to please the Lovers thereof, and the rest she would omit, and fairly interrupt for Christ's sake. And thus with th●…se exercizes of denying & barring herself voluntarily from the pleasures of the flesh or vanities of the world; she marched forwards to a higher degree of more eminent virtue and perfection.   

HOW ELIZABETH WAS contemned by Sophia, and Agnes her Mother, and Sister in Law; with the rest of the Court. CHAP. III.  
BEhold our noble Princess now begins to mount the mystical Ladder of jacob: that is, to enter into the true Exercise of Piety, consisting of ten several Steps, still ascending higher. The first; a recess from the Earth or affect of Secular or terrene things, with a firm decree of the mind to follow Christ. This step she hath climbed already, so as with the Apostles in affect at least she might well usurp that saying of theirs. Behold we have left all things. The second; an Oblivion of worldly things: Whereto the amorous celestial Lover exhorts his Spouse. O hearken Daughter, forget thy people. The third, an hatred and contempt thereof, as appears in her, who esteems the same as dung to purchase Christ. The fourth, a despoiling and Euangelical hatred of all superfluous and profane Love of Friends, citizens, and Parents. The fifth, a hatred of herself for Christ, which she truly did, as shall appear. The sixth, an abnegation of herself, and proper Love.. The seaventh, a daily carrying of the Cross, or mortification of inordinate concupiscences. The eight the Imitation or Following of Christ, inconstantly pursuing his virtues, and especially these, Meekness, and Humility. The Ninth, a love of the Neighbour, yea of the Enemies themselves, through his example on the Cross, when he prayed for his Persecutors. The tenth & last. An intimous union with God, that the mind do wholly adhere to God, and as it were be made one spirit with him, and may truly say, as she might well, that same of S. Paul: I live, not I now, but rather Christ in me.  
For lo, a fair occasion now begins to present itself to her, of arising unto higher degrees of this exercise of Piety, or Patience I may say. Since having such a Mother in law as Sophia, & such a Sister as her daughter Agnes, by the death of her tender and dear father in law, now grown in great authority in Court, her Spouse as yet but young. What can we look for, but storms and tragedies at their hands? Sophia indeed was a Woman, fair enough, and gracious to behold, but of a violent and impetuous nature; and as she was herself, so bred she up her child, as likely they are Birds of a feather. The Mother though she were not young, yet was not ancient, and if those years she had could have borne her out, her mind would have ranked her with the youthfullest of her Dames; & what became not herself to do, she would be doing in others by setting them on, in fashions, attires, in dancing, gaming, and the like. She would be known to be Duchess of Thuringia, & have her dues in points of honour, punctually observed; obsequiously attended at Table, and abroad, by her Pages, and never without a Bevy of Courtly Ladies about her. Her apparel not so rich as fashionable, relying more on the splendour of her jewels to make her appear who she was, than the Gorgeousness of attires otherways: therein giving scope to her Ladies and Maids of honour, to vie with one an other, wherein taking a complacence, she seemed to exceed in them, so being guilty herself of their excess. And yet whatsoever her devotion was inwardly, she would hold still a fair Decorum in her Chapel in the Pomp thereof; retaining still a stately Majesty in the exterior ceremonies; With this satisfying herself, that she complied sufficiently with her obligations and her secular state, being the absolute Princess and Dowager of that land.  
Her daughter Agnes seemed to be according to her hart, fair and bewtyful indeed and as made for Courts; of a nature good enough and free of disposition; and might no doubt have been more Religious and retired, had the Mother with studious education trained her in it, as she left her too much to her own inclinations; a fault too frequent every where, in the breeding up of Damsels; though here no further hurt ensued, then certain antipathies in her, with our Princely Virgin, to exercise her virtues with. These two then, being equals every way in that Court for years and respects, by the ordinance of the Mother were suited both alike, adorned alike with glittering coronets of gold and precious jewels on their heads, with bracelets, earrings, and carcanets the same: in a word, exteriorly in the habit, no difference to be seen, save only in the inward habit of the mind, in the sight of God, and Angels. For they going once into the Temple on a solemn festival day, (as their custom was,) so crowned and richly attired, and passing immediately before Sophia the lady Mother: Elizabeth presently at her entering into the church, laid off her Coronet of gold, nor would she put it on again till the Sacrifice was ended; and all that time most humbly and devoutly demeaned herself, as she truly took it in the presence of her Saviour, until at last she was admonished to go home.  
This fact of hers, now much displeased Sophia, as an act at least of indiscretion, or at the best unadvisedly done. Whereupon in time and place convenient she took her aside, and peaceably and fairly demanded of her, why she did so, saying. Daughter, what meant you the other day entering into the church to lay aside the Coronet you ware, was it a handsome sight trow you, in such a presence of the Estates, Counts, and Barons of our land to undress you in that manner in the view of all the people? To whom Elizabeth humbly made answer. Madam, God forbid, I should be so irrreligious, if not impious, being such a wretch as I am, to have my head adorned with the splendour of a Crown, and to appear in so proud and haughty an equipage, even in the time and place, where my Saviour's head is so cruelly tormented and crowned with thorns. At which words was Sophia's mouth immediately stopped, what with the goodly reason she saw she had to check her so; but happily carried it in mind, till an other tyme.  
By which appeared what impression, even in her tender years, the Thorns of her Saviour's crown did make in her hart, deeply wounding her maiden breast, through meditation of his Passion represented in the Sacrifice of the Mass. This compassion is an affect of the Soul which she had, wherewith she jointly suffered with him, who suffered so, and transferred his dolours to herself; and to this end she helped herself with these two things: first considering the quality of the person who endured: and secondly the grievousness of the pains endured: which she did, pondering how Christ our Lord suffered them, without any succour of the Eternal Father, or his Disciples, considering also the delicacy of the complexion of his body; and how the interior pains of his soul were yet more grievous than those of his sacred body▪ and these were the thoughts that took up her mind, during the Sacrifice of the Mass: while Sophia perhaps through disdain was biting the lip, and other Courteours whispering with themselves, as censuring hardly thereof, and murmuring against her.  
For that indeed, as Envy is the handmaid of virtue, and waiting at her heels, with meager looks: So was the innocent and dovelike demeanour of this Virgin, and her holy simplicity in contempt with the Courteours attending on her; who began with bitter words, and secret taunts, yea most injurious and contumelious speeches now and then, and that to her face also, to play upon her with cavils, nods, fond laughters, scoffs, and gibes, at her hyppocritical sanctity, as they would term it. And that the rather in beholding Sophia herself with her i'll trained daughter, to concur with them, and openly as it were, to applaud them for it, being so opposite as they were to her in their conditions. For Elizabeth being now in contempt with herself, esteemed the vanity of the world as filth and dung; together with these excellencies and preeminences of honour, and the pomps and gorgeousness of attires: but they on the contrary, loved, reverenced▪ & esteemed nothing less, than what Elizabeth did love, reverence, & esteem. She desired to please God only; but they, so they pleased the world, esteemed little to offend God. Thus the diversity in their hearts, caused a great dissimilitude, & Antipathy in their manners: so as hardly now, could they look upon her, with an equal eye, as commonly is wont in such occasions; laying open a large and spacious field to the Virgin to exercise all virtues in, & no small rock of scandal to the other of their spiritual ruin; if the Sacraments repaired not the secret wracks of their soul which the Stillicids of envy had wrought, while her humility in her ordinary conversation increased the same.  
For lo Elizabeth, leaving the company of the Nobles, & such as ruffled in their silks, and savoured of their civets, and ambergris, who were clad in purple, kissing the hand at every word, & full of their courtly compliments withal; affected rather the familiarity of the simple, and delighted more with the conversation of poor women, & the more sober Damoselles of her age, discoursing with them of spiritual and pious things; then to tattle of this or that fashion, or to use those courtly exercises which her Sister Agnes & her like applied themselues unto. And hence it was that Sophia would often say to her ladies, that Elizabeth should be placed among the Nuns, since her manner of life, even wholly resembled theirs, doing nothing worthy the greatness of her House. Nay there were some of the Nobles, whose impudent boldness we mentioned above, who stuck not to avouch, that Elizabeth, in respect the portion she brought, was not answerable to the Estate and dignity of their Prince; should either be sent back to Hangary again, or be given in Marriage to some other of the Nobility there. Which words were so confidently and freely delivered here and there, & uttered every where, as they could not choose but come to the ears of the innocent Lady.  
Now what should the Virgin do amidst those venomous & serpentine tongues, but as a Rose pricked with the thorns, wherewith it is beset, vent forth a sweeter odour of meekness, by the wounds she received from them, which without such occasions had laid as hid before; yet could she not choose but weep of tenderness, seeing herself so injuriously contemned, especially by such, of whom in duty she ought to be honoured. And so much the rather as she feared her constant purpose of Humility, through their envious ●…raynes & wicked practices might come to suffer detriment. Till considering with herself, how by these contempts, affronts, and humiliations, she should the better resemble her Lord JESUS Christ, and his Apostles & Saints, & how they had passed them all, and greater to; in respect whereof, these here were to be esteemed as nothing. And weighing also how great a favour & mercy it was to her from God, to be so clothed with his livery: and that the indignities offered her, were but as money or merchandise, wherewith heaven was to be purchased by her; that after the measure of them, her glory should be rated, and that she ought to hold any pain or mortification soever, as a pearl or precious ruby of no less value and estimation, than heaven itself. And finally, that the traveils of this world, have no comparison 
Rom. 8. 17.  with the weight of glory, which is given for them, as S. Paul saith. She resolved at last, and purposed with the divine grace, to suffer not only with patience, all manner of disgraces and affronts soever, but even with cheerfulness and alacrity; it being the holy will of God, yea more to desire & seek them by all means possible without offence of hers; thereby to conform herself the more to his divine Majesty: and so dried up her eyes, commending her case entirely to the divine providence, resigning herself wholly to his will, in these words.  
O sovereign Spouse of my hart. O suffer me not to affect any thing inordinately without thee; that is not wholly in order unto thee; yea, that all things else whatsoever without thee, may be ungrateful and bitter to me, and thou only sweet. That thy will be mine, and this my desire withal; that as in heaven thy will is punctually performed; so may it be done likewise here on earth, and most particularly in me. And since Love requires an union, and a most entire resignation of all things into the hands of the beloved; I give thee my whole self without reserving aught to myself. And as before, so now do I offer thee a new; a full affect of poverty; renouncing in hart all riches and pomps of the world; and if I had many worlds, I would leave them all for thee and become poor, as thou wast poor for me. O Spouse of my hart, so great is the love I bear thee, and poverty, for thy sake; that if it were possible, I would leave to be what I am, to be transformed into thee. My enemies seek my overthrow, and to entrap me, and with their guiles to draw me from thy service. O let them not prevail upon my weakness? but be thou a Rampart to me against the assaults and batteries they lay against me, to pull me off from my settled purpose to follow thee as nearly as my state and condition will permit. I trust thou wilt perfect what thou hast begun, and I shall remain victorious over all my Adversaries: This I beseech thee for thy Beloved Servants sake, S. john my venerable Patron; for the love of thy dearest Mother; and above all, for thy most precious Blood, wherein I put my chiefest trust. Nor was she any whit received, as shall appear hereafter.   

HOW THE YOUNG PRINCE, Lewes declared his affliction to Elizabeth, not withstanding the malignity of her Adversaries. CHAP. FOUR  
BY this time, Lewes the Prince like a rising sun began to draw the eyes of all upon him, every one admiring some excellence or other in him, as each apprehended excellence to be. Some would note his goodly personage, some observe the whole symmetry or due proportion of his body in the parts thereof; others his complexion strong and robustious, his activity others, and dexterity in the manage of his horse. When he was practising (though young) with the rest of his Nobles and pages of his Court, a man would have thought him, as only made for martial exploits, and feats of Chivalry. But then in court to have seen his fair behaviour, his sweet disposition and affability to all, you would say that Mars had no part in him; but that he had been made for carpets only, to comply with Ladies; so ingenious and gracious he was in his discourse. But after that again to have seen him in the C apple, had been able to move devotion in the beholders, so devout he would be at the solemn offices; so as then they would judge him truly in his Element. And as he was so pious and virtuous in himself, he was highly beloved of all good and virtuous men, and a bridle to the vicious, to restrain their exorbitances, through his rare example of modesty, Temperance, Meekness Courtesy, Sobriety; & hence it was, he was so taken & enamoured with his chaste Spouse his incomparable Elizabeth. Whom he noted to be so eminently virtuous, as he could not choose but effect & highly regard her; though he were otherwise so temperate & discrete in his carriage towards her, as not a person in the world, nor yet the Spouse herself, could guess so much.  
Which was the cause such diverse censures ran upon the nullity of the espousals made between them in their Infancyes. For seeing such temperance in the youthful Prince, so active otherwise, and full of life, they judged he had no liking to her, and that therefore he would sure refuse her, when he came to mature age. Especially since Elizabeth his Espouse, was so aliened herself from that estate, as the company and society of men, seemed to be irksome to her; much less that she would ever admit the married state; so as now in a manner she was held a Religious woman. And these discourses every where, made the pious & discreet Prince, the sooner to declare and express himself to the virtuous Elizabeth, as well to give satisfaction to the world in that point; and stop the diverse rumours and judgements of men, as to satify his own affection towards her, and to be secured of hers to him, which could not be without some manner of expression; and which now at last he did discreetly, chastely, opportunely to the great contentment and full satisfaction of each other.  
For lo this match of theirs, so made no doubt in heaven, received no less the fullness of benediction from thence. So, as though she seemed otherwise in her life and example to have been vowed already to an other Spouse in heaven; yet was it so, as not in compatible with an earthly Spouse, whose will some way or other, was known to her, to be, it should be so; and that he was content with conditions happily agreed between them, to have a Rival for a tyme. How oft, alas, had the chaste Elizabeth, in the closet of her hart put forth that Theme to be disputed of, how oft had she concluded, now for the one side, and then again for the other; now it must be thus, now thus, now this, now that. Till at last knowing evidently as it were, the will of God, which was the main argument of her assent to that estate; after she had resolved with herself, to hearken to the Prince, she would further satisfy herself with these moral reasons of inducements.  
First, that Marriage was honourable as ancient as the world itself, reigned in the Law of Nature, the written Law, and now a holy Sacrament in the Law of grace, and a great mystery between Christ and his Church. Secondly, that this Sacrament, is the root of the faithful people, the Nursery of Christianity, the soil that brings forth Creatures, able to repair the empty seat of the prevaricating Angels: The series of the living stones wherewith the walls of jerusalem are 〈◊〉. The very trunk whence issued forth all the branches, flowers, and fruits of the heavenly Paradise. The Spring whence all the brooks do flow, that water the Hierarchy of the Church. Then what an honour it was for Parents to be cooperatours with God, in the most excellent workmanshipp of the world, and chief Masterpiece of the Universe; which is man's body, the perfect and best organised of all bodies; whereinto being once form, God infuseth the soul as a Margarit into the Mother pearl, which he creates, and sends thereinto, a soul immortal, spiritual, and capable to know him, love, and adore him. Then for the place of the Institution of Marriage, she found it to have a singular prerogative, when she considered the same to have been established in the terrestrial Paradise, the most delicious place of the world, a place most happy and regarded with the most favourable influences of heaven, which, in the estate of Innocency was a happy and angelical state, if our first Parents had constantly persevered therein, and not lent their ears to the suggestions of Satan. And though commonly it be said, that Chastity replenisheth heaven, and Marriage the earth. Which she easily granted, since she held for certain that without a chaste and pure soul none can see the face of God, yet she knew well, even in those tender years of hers, to distinguish rightly of the triple chastity: Virginal, Conjugal and vidual. She knew it to be most true, that chaste continence replenisheth not the earth, but heaven; but yet withal considered, how the Conjugal, by the earth, replenisheth heaven; and with yts fruits, replenisheth and furnisheth both heaven and earth. For it furnisheth the terrestrial jerusalem with soldiers, and the celestial with most noble and victorious Triumphers.  
Now in regard these passages between the young Prince and Princess Elizabeth, as yet appeared not to the world by any outward sign, the Nobles and Courteours taking encouragement from the carriages and deportmens' of Sophia and Agnes, who never left flerting and provoking the innocent Damosel, with taunts and quips to her face, but especially with bitter nips behind her back among themselves, the matter grew now to be common in men's mouths, that the Lady Elizabeth should be sent into her Country again & the young Prince was now to think of an other Spouse, more competent for him, and deserving his Princely Highness. In regard her Portion (as they said) was too small, ●…nd the Virgin herself affected him not. That doubtless she was not for the world, & that the Prince would sure●…y never match with such an one, as ●…ad no application to the world, much ●…sse to the person of the Prince. Thus ●…uerie one passed his censure on the ●…atter, as it seemel most likley to him, ●…nd indeed according to his particular ●…ffection. Whereas beside there was ●…o want of those, who framed far ●…igher conceits of the ancient Espou●…lls, solemnly made in the face of ●…e world in their tender infancyes, ●…ith so general applause of either ●…eople, at the entreaty of the old Lant●…raue Herman deceased, and not ●…ithout the great contentment and ●…atisfaction of Sophia herself, how●…euer now through dissimilitude of ●…anners she favoured not the alliance, ●…s before. But that which made the ●…reatest impression with the gravest of ●…hem, was the sage prediction and prognosticat which Elinsor (whose credit & authority in those Northern parts was much respected) had made of her, and that contract I may say, even before her Nativity itself, as we have mentioned above, which was no doubt a great motive to the old Lantgra●…e of that so early a Match, made in their tender infancy and nonage.  
Among these, there was one Gualther a great Peer of the State, who much misliked such rumours should be bruited every where to the prejudice as he took it of the innocent Virgin, and no small disparagement to the young Prince; that so excellent a piece of grace and Nature as the Lady Elizabeth was, should so lightly be prized now, which heretofore was hopefully admitted into their land as a fair benediction and future happiness unto it. Wherefore being directed (as it should seem) by the fingar of God, in behalf of the innocent, and for the singular love he bore unto his Prince; taking a fair occasion and fit opportunity, said thus unto him. My Liege, I trust the ancient services I have done to your deceased Father the renowned Landgrave of happy memory; and the Princely favours I have re●…eiued from his hands in lieu thereof; will preoccupat for ' me and prevent ●…ny sinister suspicion of my Loyalty ●…owards the person of yourself, in whom I behold the true and lively ●…igure, & portrait of the great Her●…an himself; and that as I loved & honoured him alive, I must ●…eeds likewise honour him in your per●…onage, in whom so perfectly he lives. Which laid as a good foundation, I ●…ust my boldness with your Highness will come off the better, when I shall ●…resse the same, with a matter of im●…ortance, not knowing yet how gra●…eful my officiousness may prove unto our Highness. Laying then ambages side, I come to the point, which in con●…dence is to understand your pleasure & princely disposition, touching your ●…pouse in Court. I say, to know what ●…our inclination is towards her; to wit, whether in your election, you will ratify yonr Father's choice of her for a Spouse, and second the general applause thereof through the world, or proceed to a new election of an other, more worthy in your eyes. And this the rather I urge your Highness with, for that it is generally voiced abroad, (upon what ground I know not) your Highness' means to retract from the ancient espousals, and to seek a new.  
To which the Prince with colour in his cheeks of a maiden blush, sweetly made answer, but briefly, as became him. My Lord, I thank you for your loving care of our honour and chiefest good in this life, and for a full satisfaction to your demand, take this from me: You see yond Mountain there: I tell you truly, were it all of gold, and all the stones most precious Rubies and carbuncles; yet I prise and set by more, those ancient Spousalls made between us, than such an one; and that he would shortly give to understand what little reckoning he made of such fond babble of the envious and malevolent; and would make his affection to the Virgin yet more manifest to the world. May it please your Highness answered Gualther, that I signify so much to the Lady Elizabeth herself. To which the Prince condescended, and to give his words more credit with her, went to his Closet and fetched out a jewel of no small worth; and sent it by him to his dear Elizabeth, as a token and pledge of his affection to her. It was a mirror or glass, garnished with stones of inestimable value as in a tablet, with two Crystals opening of each side; One simple to look into and behold one self in; and a Christ crucified most curiously & artificiously wrought on the other. This token the Baron took joyfully in his hands, & making his Obeissance to him, thought it long till he had delivered his Embassage, for he was one that truly honoured the happy couple.  
At last, he comes unto her presence, and in a gracious sort delivered the whole discourse unto her, in manner as it passed between the Prince and him; and withal, presented her the foresaid jewel; which she took into her Virgin hands, as sent from heaven; not without a crimson blush; so to have discovered her conceived joy in a matter of that nature; giving the Noble man many thanks for his loving care of her honour, and his traveills taken on her behalf, protesting she would remember him if she were able, at least with her poor unworthy prayers for him to her heavenly Spouse. Madam, said he, I take you at your last, & so departed from her presence. When it cannot be imagined, what joy the Virgin took here at, seeing herself now almost put into possession of her heart's content; since now at last besides the enjoying of such a friend, she hoped her enemies would come to have their mouths stopped, who had so maliciously presaged of her; & that which pleased her most; was, she hoped thereby to have a larger scope to serve her heavenly Spouse, noting the Prince to be so virtuously disposed of his own inclination.  
After which, she being now of years complete, to be joined in marriage, the Prince hasted the Nuptials as soon as might be, & if there were so much pomp, at her entrance into that State, as we have said above, she being then a Child, & her Spouse but an Infant likewise, as Roses in their bud; You may judge the solemnities of the Nuptial pomps; they being now as full blown Roses exposed to the view of the whole world. When to the confusion of the ill affected, to that most happy co niunction of the Alman & Hungarian Stars; the Prince declared by that public Act of his, how far they were mistaken & deceived, in their so malevolous Omens of the match; who so temerariously had passed their censures on the Princely Pair; showing moreover & manifestly declaring, that he neither respected wealth, beauty, nor Nobility of stock, so much in the choice of his Spouse, though all were competently at least, if not eminently found in her: as her religious simplicity and integrity of mind, matched with a Princely Majesty triumphing over the world, and the Vanities thereof.   

HOw ELIZABETH BEING married, remitted not her devotions a whit; and how she carried herself in her Mortifications. CHAP. V.  
WHEN the Angel Raphael, discovered himself to T●…by; he said, that Prayer was good with 
●…ob. 12. 〈◊〉.  fasting: Which Fasting is commonly understood by the Fathers, to be all manner of penance, and mortification of the flesh. Which Eliz. considering, and weighing the great importance, Prayer and Mortification were of, to the attaining of perfection, which in that very state, she aimed at: She now applied herself more seriously than ever to the exercise of these two means, so efficacious to obtain her end. For truly, she was so far from slacking a whit her former desires, as now they began to break forth into open flames of feruourous acts, being never well but when some ways or other, she practised the works of either Virtues.  
For first she fed her mind with thaes heavenly and delicious viands, of sweet contemplation, devoutly meditating the points of the four last things, to make herself vigilant and cautious. Or the mysteries of the Life & Passion of our Lord, to breed Compassion in her gentle breast: Or the Life of our Lady & the Saints, to pattern or frame her Life by. For as for higher speculations of the divine attributes, as yet her years would not bear them; Or if they would, her singular humility permitted her not to look so high; contenting herself with the Dove, to abide in the holes of the rock Christ JESUS; and to dwell in his Wounds. For which end, she exercised her body with watchings, macerations, and fasts. For even then she began, to abandon the softness and deliciousness of her downy bed, fearing least by pampering the flesh so much, she might unworthy of the Love of Christ. And therefore she would often steal from the Prince's bed, and did it so cunningly indeed, that likely he was not aware thereof, when she thought she had gotten a great purchase, to win so much time unknown to her Spouse, to attend more freely to the traffic of her soul, without any danger of vain glory therein; sometimes she was taken in the act of stealing forth, & then she would be sad, to be so discovered in her pious endeavours, but yet would ●…raue his licence to proceed notwithstanding, which she did most seriously, and often obtained her desire of the good Prince: sometimes again she would steal forth to prayer, when she thought him a sleep, or he but dissembled the matter, and then rejoice in her hart, as much as before. And again sometimes well knowing the good disposition in the Prince, she would plainly beg, and he as freely permit, she might rise in the night, or early in the morning, to give her self to Prayer, and to commend her estate, and actions to God.  
The Prince howsoever he approved these devotions, yet affecting her so dearly as he did; could not choose but admonish her sometimes, to temper and moderate the excess she used, either in the time or intensnes of her prayer; discreetly advising her to beware she impaired not the health of that her weak & feeble body. But what gained he by it, but a fuller satisfaction in his conscience, to have sweetly admonished her of the perils, which are ordinarily incident to the Servants of God, in the way of perfection; referring the rest to his divine pleasure, so pious he was. While she, guided by the Holy Ghost no doubt, pursued her course, or increased it rather with the more caution, & greater circumspection not to offend her husband in the least, whom she honoured so much. And to avoid sloth and sleepynes, to the end she might rise in the night, and not neglect her religious custom of nigthly prayer; she gave order to her Maids to awake her, at a certain time, when she appointed to arise, Which to be done more privily; and that her watching and nightly rising might the better be kept from her Lord the Prince. She took one of her Maids aside, in whom she had greater confidence, then in the rest; conjuring her thus. Thou knowest Isentrude (for so was her name) what trust I have always reposed in thee, and here I acknowledge how faithful I have found thee hitherto; I must now therefore commend a new Office to thee, to be my Alarm in the night, if I be not up, by such an hour: and to have it done more secretly; my will, is, that thou shouldst awake me, in giving me a remembrance at least, by pulling me by the Toes, at the Beds feet; for fear I disturb and awake my Lord. The faithful Servant apprehended her straight, and assumed the charge, and diligently performed it a good while together, till at last, being once mistaken I know not how), she took the Prince by the toe instead of her; Who awaking thereat, and perceiving the matter, was not a whit displeased therewith, as being acquainted with her custom of arising in the Night to Prayer.  
Which custom continually so prevailed upon her, and her fervours therein now grew so great, as she was not contented, that by stints and turns to enjoy these vicissitudes of rest, and rising in the night; but in the absence of the Prince she was often found by her Maids sleeping on a Carpet spread and extended on the ground, when finding herself through a friendly and loving liberty of theirs, to be handsomely checked and rebuked by them, as fearing lest such manner of austerities might breed her harm and some great inconvenience to her. Her answer was, she reaped a double fruit and commodity by it. First that she less regarded her bed▪ And secondly, abstained from the softness of those downs, or the approach of her husband; that her mind more easily and freely might apply itself to heavenly thoughts and spiritual exercizes, so opposite to sense, softness, and carnal delights.  
She would often complain, she was unworthy to dedicate her virginity when time was, to her heavenly Spouse; and yet loved her Lord no whit the less; from whom she would willingly never be absent; even when he took any journey in hand, were it in frost or snow, heat, or cold, or any stormy weather soever. For she well understood his company debarred nor hindered her at all from her exercise of watching and Prayer, and the sweet Embraces of her heavenly Spouse; wherein she daily increased so much, as now she took up straighter austerityes and afflictions to macerate more that innocent body of hers, to whip herself every Friday in the year, in memory of the Passion of her dear Saviour: which in the Lents and oftentimes in the nights when she arose, was done by her Maids to humble and confound her the more, and yet with a marvellous cheerfulness and sweetness she suffered all; obliging them to a perpetual silence.   

HOW ELIZABETH SUBMITS herself to the Obedience of one Conrade, a religious Priest: and what followed thereof. CHAP. VI  
Almighty God, hath so ordered, and disposed of things, in the fair Oeconomy of his divine providence; touching the way and Life to be led and traced by mortals in this world; that none may be his own Guide, nor yet rely on his proper knowledge; or trust to his prudence. And if this be so in general, how much more in the way of spiritual perfection, can one walk without a true, sincere, discreet, and prudent Guide in a spiritual life. For alas how hard a thing it were for a man, as well out of passion, as self-love, to know the defects of the mind, and to persuade himself he hath any; and therefore the amendment of them, in a manner becomes impossible. What necessity each one hath to be assisted in this point we may imagine: For if the sick and infirm for the great desire they have to be cured, be content to submit themselves to the bitter Pills and Receipts of the Physician, and oftentimes to the lancings and incisions of the sharp knife for a present ease, or at most for a momentary life, what should we do in the matter of Salvation, and eternal life. But seek a Reverend, learned, and a pious Physician of our soul to deal with, when especially eternal happiness, or everlasting misery depends thereon. Not only to lay open the soars of our conscience to him, in matter of sins, and temptations; but even also of penances, mortifications, devotions, & in all other things wherein a man may easily digress, & step asi le from the right path, not only of sanctity and perfection, but even of necessary salvation itself. Whereby we walking more securely in the way of God, may be apt to receive the divine graces, since with this resignation and act of Humility, and this holy hatred of ourselves, (besides the keeping and preserving the soul for eternal life) God is exceedingly pleased therewith, and by means of such spiritual Physicians; and faithful Interpreters of his will, the more clearly he manifests to us, what we ought to do.  
Such a Guide now had Elizabeth great need of, to govern her amid such new devotions and fervours, every day so taken up by her, lest that which was intended for her greater good and advancement in spirit, for want of such a Guide or Director, might redound to the greater damage, or at least degenerate in spiritual gluttony. And this is that, which the Prince seemed to intimate to her, while he admonished her to moderate her fervours. When lo much about that time, came thither a Priest as dropped from heaven, called Conrade of Marpurge; a most worthy and famous personage, both in his exemplar manner of life, and eminent Learning; being sent by his Holiness at that time, to preach the word of God, throughout the Provinces of Germany. Who prevailed so much through the singular gift he had in preaching, and the Authority he purchased by it; that he no less repressed rebellious minds with a stricter hand held upon them, a gravity of aspect, and powerful presence, than he attracted and comforted the obedient with his lenity and sweet proceedings with every one. His life was fully answerable to the doctrine he preached, and his works to the words he uttered. His eloquence or grace in speaking was such, as was not easy to be judged which the greater: his learning or fervour in the pulpit, which the more; or whether he were more happy in private discourses to win & allure the hard unto him; or more successful in prevailing with them, through force of the eminent talents he had, especially in guiding and governing souls. He wholly contemned wealth and honours, riches, and dignities, and had an extraordinary zeal of christian Religion. He was beside a fatal Enemy and a main impugner of Heretics; nor was he ever noted, ambitiously to seek for Ecclesiastical livings▪ or the spiritual goods of the Church for his own use, or use of his Nephews or Kindred, or so much as to accept of what was freely offered him in that or any of the like kind. His apparel was suitable & agreeable with the decenter sort of the Clergy in those times, nor exceeded the commoner sort of the graver of them. His table frugal, the difcipline of his house hold very Regular & good; in a word a very absolute & complete Ecclesiastic; & worthy to have▪ sit in the highest chayrs of Pontifical dignity; which surely he had, if his disposition of shuning Prelacyes, had not been too well known to the world.  
To this worthy man, and eminent Star of the Church, the noble and virtuous Lewes, upon knowledge of his so rare worths, being now grown into some familiarity with him, and he again very grateful to both the young Princes, and the whole Court of Thuringia, gave leave to bestow at his pleasure, and his own discretion the whole government and superintendency of all the Churches and Aduowsons' of Benefices, which in his State were remaining in his hands. And whereas the Lady Elizabeth herself with consent of the Prince, requested the venerable Father, with much instance, to receive her into his charge; he granted it, so she promised such obedience to him, as might stand with her Marriage estate which she vowed devoutly, and performed exactly indeed, not only for the few years the Prince lived with her, but even after his decease likewise; and then much more readily, punctually, and absolutely, then ever.  
Now then, after this reverend Priest had taken her to his charge, to guide and govern her in the way of spirit, and that she had delivered up herself wholly into his hands, to be directed by him, the good Father perceiving her good, desires, and noting how prosperously she had succeeded hitherto, through the especial assistance of the Holy 〈◊〉; began to conceive very highly of his new charge; imagining with himself, much fruit might be wrought with such, a subject, & therefore determined to use all diligence he was able, to advance to some degree of perfection, noting such singular and most eminent seeds of grace to be sown already in the fertile soil of her prompt and ready soul. And she of the other side, having thus made a surrender of herself, wholly and entirely unto him, to be ruled and governed by him: disposed her self to be most punctual in observing his behests, and to regard him as an Angel sent from heaven, to guide her in the path way of perfection.  
How after many other practices of less moment used by the good Father, in dealing with this soul, wherein he found her still to come with great facility in the exercise of all ordinary virtues; he began to proceed more strictly & imperiously with her, to put her to the touch and trial of her true virtue and sanctity in deed. When behold a convenient occasion thereof represented itself to him, and this it was.  
The good Father on a time was to preach (as he was ordinarily wont) of heavenly things, when especially he commanded this Servant of Christ, not to fail to be present thereat; & whether it were that he knew before the necessary occasion she had, to be absent or no, can no mantle▪ this only appears, that she by accident failing to be present at that time, through the unexpected arrival of her husband's Sister; in great displeasure, as it were he sent her a sharp rebuke, and as to one disobedient sent her word, he would never command her any thing more, who for so slight an occasion had broken her promise of obedience to him; and now she might use ●…er own liberty again, as she would herself, signifying withal, he could by no means take it well at her hands, to be so slightly regarded by her.  
At which message, you may imagine how Elizabeth was stung to the quick, and grieved in her Soul, & thereupon went immediately in all haste to her Master, (for so she used to call him,) with her eyes cast down to the ground for shame, as not daring to look him in the face, she humbly craved pardon of him; from whom when the angry Father, as in disdain turned his face away; the humble creature not respecting her birth and dignity, fell down at his feet, and would not rise till at last, through her humiliation she obtained; pardon acknowledging her error therein, with all submission, but privately chid her maids in a sweet complaining manner, through whose occasion (as she made it appear unto them,) she had committed the offence.  
It is the property of the tenderest consciences, especially in their first conversions, to be apt to scruples, which is a mere trick of the enemy of their good resolutions, to make them either wholly to break with them, or if they will needs proceed therein, to take away the sweetness they should otherwise find in the service of God, & the way of perfection. This than was it, which troubled so our new Novice, & Disciple here in the school of Conrade, who being warned by him, not to eat of meats purchased either by violence or any kind of oppression; and sitting at table (contrary to the custom of such Royal personages) the very next to the Prince himself, through the extraordinary love that was between them, she incurred many grievous scruples, fearing to touch now this, now that kind of meat, where to abstain from all, as she was not bound, so in that same place she could not do it.  
Two of her Maids were joined with her in this kind of abstinence, for whose quiet, besides her own, she fully provided for, and therefore procured their diet to be prepared a part together with hers; & to be allowed them out of her kitchen. Wherein she had likewise good experience of the Princely disposition of her husband in such things, & of his singular favours towards her, in these and the like occasions. For if any thing had been served into the table that might breed any scruple in her; he would certify her of it, either with a wink or nod or some other sign. And of his own accord would have obliged himself to the same abstinence, had he not been hindered & crossed therein; by the misinterpretation of some of his Nobility, who ascribed the same no whit to Religion, or any devotion in her, but to mere superstition & folly; protesting he would ere ●…ong, embrace it himself, exhorting her maids to go on with their purpose; since himself likewise would shortly ●…e one of their number. And as for Elizabeth herself, she would often inquire, in the Visitts of the Offices of the household, what provisions were made of meat & drink; & whether instly or unjustly they were purveyed or no; & when she was satisfied, all was well, with great joy she certified & secured her Maids thereof, saying. To day, God be thanked, we shall far very well.  
In the principal Feasts, indeed, she was likely put to her shifts, in the assembly of many of the States & Peers of the Realm, how to dissemble her abstinence, not only from meats forbidden by obedience, but even likewise from such as were lawful, and fit to be eaten, when they were either costly or dainty, or any ways curious & not ordinary. For then, to dissemble her abstinence from all such dishes, according to her pious & devout resolutions made for the Love of God; she would either discourse with the guess, or else talk with the Prince at table, or be carving the daintyest morsels to others, or drink to friends, according to the manner of that country, or else send forth her Maids upon sleeveles errands here and there, or change her trencher very often, and would use a thousand other inventions to deceive her appetite, & the eyes of the Guests & weighters, so ingenious is a mortified creature, disposed to deny, & bar itself of all that is dainty or delicate: so as while others had been glutted with the choicest meats, she very often would arise a hungry, & go to her chamber, where she fed very savourly on bread & honey & sometimes be contented with a bare crust, & that very often of Rye bread, and a cup of the smallest wine. Whensoever she dined or supped by herself and not with the Prince her husband, she would far very coursely & poorly, together with her said Maids, whom she had as companions of her discipline, & order of abstinence so taken up amongst them. And not to charge the Landgrave her husband with extraordinary expenses in this kind of special diet, between themselves, she caused the same to be allowed her out of her own rents, though her husband always offered them some daintyes or others to mend their commons, which they would never accept. If she knew of any, who had wrongfully lost any part of his goods, she presently caused (if it lay in her power) the whole loss to be restored him again, so as the party seemed to have only but exchanged his goods, and not lost them at all.   

HOW ELIZABETH Contemns all bravery and vanity of Apparel, persuading other Ladies to do the same. CHAP. VII.  
THough the glorious and beautiful Hester, for God and her country's service, put herself into sumptuous & gorgeous attires, yet she did it with grief & repugnancy in herself, protesting in the presence of Almighty God that from her hart she detested the diadem she ware. The like Elizabeth used to do, when she dressed herself more richly and curiously then ordinary as she was forced sometimes, to give satisfaction to the world, and to cover the humility of her hart, for now began the eyes of men to be cast upon her as a young Saint. Till at last, on a certain solemn, feast being richly attred with princely Robes, and wearing a crown of gold on her head, attended with a stately train of her household, and some other of the Nobility, entering into the Church, to hear the divine Office, & espying the cross with the ●…mage of our Saviour hanging thereon, on the Roodlost, being suddenly moved to compunction thereat, fell a weeping, and weeping entered into th●…se cogitatious. Alas, behold how my Creator & Redeemer, hangs naked on the cross, dying thereon a most shameful and opprobrious death for my sake, while I a vile and wretched sinner, attired with silk and purple, and adorned with ●…ewells, live vainly, rather than lead a life worthy a Christian, much less of a Servant of God, especially devoted and consecrated in desire at least to a state of greater perfection. Acrowne of thorns, pricked his head in pilate's house, and look how he wears it while I am dressed with a Coronet of gold, he my God, for me is as forsaken abandoned of his friends & disciples, and ignominiously entreaded by the jews with whips and scourges, look how the blood runs trickling from him, while I here am guarded and attended on, with a goodly family of servants about me, waiting my pleasure, every one striving to magnify and honour me in what they may: Is this the fervour of the Love I bear him? Is this the gratitude I repay him with? Is this the requital of the love he hath borne me? Alas poor wretch as I am! O woe to me unfortunate wretch! And do I thus obey his precepts: thus call to mind his benefits received: thus follow his steps; who created me, when I was not, and of nothing, made me such as I am, and when I was lost redeemed me with his precious blood? O wretch!  
These meditations and internal colloquyes with the present Crucifix, were so vehement with her, that she was absorbed as it were, and without sense, when suddenly her strength failing her, and her face now pale and wan, she fell to the ground, as without life, whereat all the company of Lords and Ladies about her being terribly affrighted and amazed, took her up from the ground, and cast holy water on her: When their astonishment was passed over, she returned to herself again. And ever after, remained with such a horror and detestation against all vanity, that as if she had been admonished by some divine Oracle, she abstained from all sumptuous apparel, as much as her state and dignity would permit, so as many times she ware under her silks very sharp and cruel cilices. And if at any time, through the length of any journey, which her husband was to take, she could not accompagny him, staying at home; she laid aside all costly attires, being contented to have the courser habits without tincture, but merely of their own native colours, not differing a whit from the common wear, of the ordinary people of that country. When being so alone, through use of Prayer and frequent meditation, through multiplying disciplines, through prolonging her vigils, and nightly watches, she so subdued the flesh to the spirit, and mortified the alluring & enticing delights of the flesh, that might have tempted her, amidst occasions in the court, ●…hee being so young and delicate of complexion, as she seemed to be rather a claustrial Widow, or recluse Auchorite, shut up in walls, than a Lady of the court, or especially the Princess thereof. This she did in the absence of her Lord only: but at his return; she put on again more fitting clothes, to give content to her husband, and the rest of the court; which she for virtue's sake, and affect of poverty; for so long time had laid aside; declaring thereby, what became a virtuous and chaste wife to do, as well in the absence of her husband abroad, as in his presence at home.  
She also, endeavoured both by word and example, to draw some Noble Ladies of the court, with whom she was familiarly conversant, from their excesses in rich apparel: telling them with effectual discourses, many excellent points and reasons against it; especially for Christians, professing to be the members of Christ; declaring how unfitting it was, he being our head, & crowned with thorns, that our bodies should be so softly entreaded, acknowledging ourselves to be his members. She would bring in the example of Rachael, as a patterue of womanly 
Gen 24.  modesty & sobriety; how she covered her face with her mantle in the sight of her Spouse: that they at least should not expose their beauty to the view of Strangers, by adorning and setting it forth, & making ostentation thereof, by borrowed and counterfeit shadows or lustres of rich array, when they are rather to hide even that which nature warrants them to avow: unless with Dina, desiring to see, and to be seen, they come to meet with occasions as she did, to lose the jewel of their virginal integrity.  
She remembered them withal, what S. Hierome said, as she heard once in a Sermon which her Master preached, discoursing of the penitent state and plight, wherein Magdelen was prostrate at the feet of Christ, washing them with her tears, and drying them again with the hair of her head. That she was so much the fairer as less decked. How Hester and judith, going to pray, clothed themselves in sackcloth, and dolfully sprinkled ashes on their heads, in witness of the state of human condition, & their own dust and ashes. How Saint Paul willeth women to perform at least 
Tim. 2  their devotions in the church, in attires that testify shamefastness and modesty, not with frizzled hair, or with gold or pearls, or precious garments. She added withal, how this gold, was to be left in the bowels of the earth, yts proper place, and pearls in their shells, in the bottom of the seas: and how this sumptuous apparel belongs to Pagans & Infidels, who make an Idol of their body, and dress it up to adore it afterwards because indeed they know not Christ, nor aspire to the service of the true God, who is to be honoured with simplicity and integrity of the body & mind, & not with plumes so borrowed of the birds of the air, dross of the earth, or fishes of the Sea, concluding her speech at last with that terrible menace of the Prophet Esay against the 
Isaye 3.  Daughters of Zion: which her Master had often thundered in her ears.  
With these, and such like reasons, the wife and discreet Duchess softened the hearts of some of the Ladies, and made them to relent and remit somewhat of the excess they used in brave attires, now leaving off one thing, and then an other, that they might not suddenly seem to make such a change all at once, and might the less be perceived; so that ere long, an admirable change was made in that court, from gorgeous dress, to a decenter manner of habit, partly through the example itself of their Lady, and of the sainctly life she led, and partly also for those reasons alleged by her, against such excesses, It cannot be told, what comfort the Princess herself took at this wholesome change which she presently adverted: and therefore taking more courage, to ascend to higher points of perfection with such as were capable thereof, she took a fair occasion and opportunity with the younger and tenderest of them, to fall in commendation of the Single life, but especially advancing beyond measure, the Virginal state. To which purpose she broke forth in this manner. You may think maidens, that what I shall say, perhaps, may not well proceed from my mouth: who in fact have embraced an other state, than what I commend unto you. But this, good sisters, must I tell you, by the way, it is no precept at all▪ but merely a counsel. And all are not worthy and capable thereof, then let them take the same, that can take it; among whom, good sisters, I have always reckoned myself the unworthyest. And therefore, I would not have you to wonder a whit, or hold my words in less regard, if I seem to commend one thing, and choose and embrace the contrary myself. The thing then, I advice you, is to a perpetual Virginity of mind and body. For this is the noblest degree of all Chastity: consisting formally in a perpetual purpose, to abstain from all carnal delectation, being a special virtue, and the principal point thereof; whereto is promised the fruit of a hundred fold, & is reserved for such as keep it entirely. It is the flower of the Ecclesiastical Stem, the Beauty and splendour of the spiritual grace, the most illustrious portion of the Redemption of JESUS. This Virginity, is most amiable in itself: sweet as the savour of the odoriferous Balm, wherewith as the bodies embalmed, are preserved from the teint of any corruption, so by it, are no less preserved both the spirit and body, & the virtues & humane actions conserved, most pure in the sight of God, who restrains & contains the senses & appetites, in a singular candour and beautiful lustre, representing the state of the immortal glory. Chastity, & specially entire Virginity, is it, which takes yts origen from the kingdoms of the heavens which makes you Maidens of earth, as wholly celestial & angelical. For what is more beautiful, trow you, or more resplendent than Chastity and true Virginity, which transforms a Virgin, to an Angel. A chaste Virgin indeed being a terrestrial Angel, & an Angel being none other then a celestial virgin, different truly one from the other, but in happiness and felicity only, in nature and not in virtue. For, if the Chastity of the Angel be more happy in itself, yet that of the Virgin in earth is confessed to be stronger, in combating continually against the intestine and foreign assaults of the flesh. And is so fair and goodly a virtue indeed, that as material whiteness or the colour of white in it self, is the chief among all colours, and the very foundation of all the rest: So is Chastity, the spring and foundation of all good works. And lastly Chastity, is a glorious virtue, the miracle of grace, the singular fruit of the Passion of jesus, of the nature of Angels, the sacred Sanctuary of the holy Trinity, the Bed and Couch, of more than Solomon, strewed all with flowers. Love then, o Virgins, this so noble a virtue of Virginity, prize this precious gem and jewel of Chastity, cherish the same far more than the apple of your eyes, yea more life yt self, the most inestimable of sublunary things.  
Thus spoke the Princess Elizabeth, to the Maids of honour about her, and they as seriously gave attention to her. It can not be told, how their hearts were now inflamed with the Love of Chastity, & perpetual Virginity; insomuch as diverse of them were moved thereby, to embrace that counsel, and through the help and assistance of their Lady were admitted into cloisters to become Religious. Which favour and benefit next to God and the immaculate Queen of Virgins, they acknowledged from her. Thus she spent her time in Court, & thus happily succeeded her fair endeavours. With this ardent affect of Chastity, she had the affect of fecundity also, and with the merit of a votive and no vowed Chastity, she had the blessing of material fruictfulnes. There never was a creature carried herself more even between her heavenly and earthly Spouse than Elizabeth did, she rendered so her debts, as she defrauded neither, & therefore was blessed from heaven, with three children by the Prince her husband Lewis, the Landgrave of Thuringia. First with a Son named Herman, who succeeded his father in the Dukedom; and then two Daughters, one whereof was given in Marriage, to the Duke of Brabant then living; & the other admitted into a Monastery of Religious women, where in time she was chosen to be the Lady Abbess of the house, and where she governed the family most religiously, not unlike to the Daughter of such a Mother.  
Her manner was, after she was brought to bed, and delinered, and the rights of churching ended, to take her little Babe, and carry it in her arms & going barefoot, & clad with an humble garment of home-made cloth, with a slender retinue about her, descend down a rocky & steepy hill, & there enter into the church. Where Mass being ended, she would offer the same upon the Altar, with a waxen taper burning in her hand, and then as she returned home again, give her gown & veil to the next poor Woman she met.   

WHAT CHARITY ELIZAbeth showed to her Neighbour: & how she gave the clothes from her back to the poor. CHAP. VIII.  
NO doubt, but the good father Conrade, had given to the Lady Elizabeth, many singular documents of the theoric of all virtues, and that by the use of Prayer and meditation she had got many rare principles of speculative knowledge, of the divine attributes, and the infinite perfections of God, and many practical Rules beside of true and solid virtues. Yet as reasons and considerations suffice not to take away fear which is natural to man, but it is needful also to apply some outward remedies: as to bid them to approach nearer to the thing they apprehend to be a Phantasm, and to touch it with the finger, to try and see by experience, that there is no cause of fear, and all to be nothing else but merely imagination and their own apprehensions. So likewise to lose the opinion and estimation we have of the world and of all worldly honour and vain pomp, and to make us to set little by them, neither reasons nor yet considerations suffice; but the acts of humility, which are the most principal & efficacious means, we can use of our part to obtain the same; the thing which this good lady aimed at, in all the whole course of her life. For, as sciences and Arts are purchased with exercise, so likewise the moral virtues are not truly gained, but by frequent external acts in the same virtues. As for one to be a good Musician, good Artisan, or a good Rhetorician, or Philosopher, he had need to exercise himself well to attain perfection therein.  
Now Elizabeth, having in truth for her principal scope to Love God above all things, and the Neighbour as herself; conceiving very well how the same, consisted not so much in documents alone, or mere speculations, as in putting the same into outward practices, and to effect: and that virtues are not kindly indeed, but with habits; and habits not purchased (as I said) without frequent acts of the same virtues. Though her mind were well inclined to pious works, and works of mercy to the poor, and such as were impotent and diseased any ways, yet she satisfied not herself with that pious effect only towards them, as thinking it not sufficient not to oppress any, and to pass by, and say, God help you, to such as she knew to be in any distress, or which is more, not contented to persuade others, or to invite them to be pitiful and helpful to the poor and necessitous, but releived them herself with her own hands: So as, that saying of job very aptly agreed 
job 31▪  with her. From mine infancy, pity and compassion hath been bred in me: and from the womb of my Mother, it grew up with me. And to the end, this virtue of Compassion, might not be fruitless and barren in her, a singular Liberality was annexed to it, to which the Princes free disposition concurring, made her works to the Neighbour urey admirable, as shall appear in the ensuing narration throughout. Of which kind, for the present we will intimate two only examples of especial regard.  
It chanced then, that this pitiful and merciful Woman, came to the knowledge of a poor and miserable wretch exceedingly affected with a certain loathsome disease of louse in his head, which is called Phthiriasis, in such abundance indeed, together with the headache, as it was no small torment and confusion to him, and with all the means he made, he could never be rid of them. when lo, the blessed Elizabeth, desirous to dress him herself, to cure the same, though she might have commended the matter to some other: yet by no means would she give consent, to have any Rival or companion with her in that act, being so fair an occasion offered, as she thought to overcome herself for the love of JESUS. And therefore for the more privacy thereof, and not to be deprived of so great a merit; unknown to any, so much as to her most intimate servant Isentrude, she found the way to convey the Wretch aside in all secrecy into her private Orchard, wherein many high trees were growing; for within doors it was not possible to be done without some notice taken: at least that she might not be hindered in her pious endeavour. Where notwithstanding the aversion and loathing, she might easily have had thereat; she kembed his head, and cut his hair, all clotted with filth, and till then unkembed for many days, and killed the louse, and willed him confidently to lay it in her lap, which he did for a pretty space, till she had well scoured and washed the same. When her maids, coming in by chance, and finding their lady employed in so abject a work, and so unseemly for her: admiring it, as not believing at first it should be she, roundly rebuked her for it, that she being a lady of such degree and royal descent, would defile her fingers with so loathsome a disease, in pouling and washing the head of so miserable a creature; exaggerating withal the arguments that might be, how il it became her to do, it, which they for their parts would not do, for any thing in the world: Inferring beside, that doubtless her Lord, the Landgrave would be much offended, if he chanced to come to the knowledge thereof.  
When behold, the good Lady somewhat blank thereat, to be taken so suddenly in the manner, beyond expectation, not so much for the shame she had of the servile work, as for that the secrecy thereof was broken, which she intended▪ and offered to the sight of God, and not to the eyes of Mortals, or human censures; but smiling, she handsomely seemed to put off the discourse to some other matter, upon a good occasion offered: as not willing to justify the same too much for fear of vain glory, or to hear them inveigh so bitterly, against a thing which she held as pious, at least not worthy of so bitter reprehensions, though otherwise glad and well satisfied to have done that and a great deal more, for whose sake she did it: making account, that what she did, was merely done for the love of God, and not for human respects, and therefore she ought not to regard it. And that to Love God, it was necessary further, to put away all respects of any creature soever, and to purge it from all terrene and carnal ends, and to love and regard none, but God, who is highly indeed, and above all to be regarded: and if she chanced to love or esteem aught else, it should be for God; in somuch indeed as she loved not God for herself, nor herself, for herself; nor her neighbour for himself, but rather God for God, and herself for God, and her Neighbours for the same God; since the love of God can not brook the company of any other love or respect, then of God. This surely, was a worthy example of perfect Charity to her Neighbour, being so merely done for the divine Love..  
For she well considered with herself, what she was of herself, in her first beginning. As for the Body. she considered the same to be a vile and base thing, like other creatures: a little blood; and a piece of flesh, skinned over with a parchment, as it were, somewhat finer than ordinary; yea less than it even earth and clay. And for the Soul, how it was merely as nothing: since God created it in her Mother's womb, of nothing. For the present, she likewise considered how miserable she was in the same body, how full of defects, of miseries, and infirmities every way: for the Soul, how poor she was of understanding and judgement, how little she knew, or could reach into, how full of ignorance and errors. But that, which touched her most was a true and lively consideration of what she was like to come unto, in respect of the Body. How she was to be afflicted with some grievous malady or other, that should usher her to death, and death, deliver her over to the tomb, where she should make a feast or banquet for the worms, and lasty be reduced into a little earth, and brought into perpetual oblivion. And therefore, why should she ever be proud a whit, or regard what her maids said to her in that kind? For, thou earth & ashes 
Eccl. 10. 9  (would she say unto herself) what shoulsed thou be proud of? To day a woman, tomorrow perhaps, a lump of earth? And if I should value myself, (as they say) for my gentry, lineage, and nobility, whence I descend, from royal and honourable Parents: Alas, how poor a thing it is; while truly it affords me nothing nor puts any thing into me, being only a mere estimation of men, and nothing in substance. Since, there is no difference a whit, that I can find among us all, either in the entry into the world, or the going forth, be we rich or poor, noble or ignoble.  
This judgement now, and esteem, which she framed of herself, concerning her own nature, and person, being more her own and intrinsical to her, than the goods of fortune, which but only accompanied her without, and attend more extrinsecally on her; it cannot be imagined how great was the contempt she had in her hart, against all these temporal riches, which the world prize's and valu'es so much. From uhence proceeded the second example I promised above, which was this.  
On a certain Festival day, the young Prince was disposed to invite the Peers and Nobles of his land, to a solemn dinner, which being now in order, and the Guess come, and nothing wanting that could be desired in so honourable an assembly, but the presence of the Princess Elizabeth herself, who by chance was then missing, being all ready to sit down at table, and she not there, the loving Prince would not sit down till she came; and therefore he sent the usher in all haste for her, who went and met her coming thither, and told her, how the Prince her husband, and all the strangers attended her coming, nor would sit down till she were present. Whereupon she hastened so much the more, and was now going up the stairs unto the dining room, and as she went, she heard a lamentable voice of a poor man, with great importunity begging an alms, she being now on the midst of the stairs, and he on the bottom thereof; being moved with the cries he made, she willed him to stay a while, and promised out of hand to send him something, since for the present she had nothing about her. But this would by no means satisfy him, fearing be like, he might be forgotten: and therefore cried out more earnestly than before, saying: Good Madam may it please your Highness, not to dismiss or dispatch me so. Your highness was not wont to put off your clients in this sort: and if your Excellence slight us thus, who will regard us? Something I beseech your Highness to bestow upon me, ere you pass any further and shut not up the bowels of mercy against so miserable a wretch, and this I beg for the Love of JESUS whom you serve. Elizabeth, hearing the sweet name of JESUS, in his mouth, made suddenly a stop: and pausing with herself a little, considered what she should do. Money she had none, and to dismiss any empty away, demanding in the name of JESUS stood not with her gentle and amorous hart to the same JESUS her heavenly Spouse. The wretch was naked▪ and she gorgeously and richly apparelled, as became her state and dignity, especially on a festival day. Wherefore, she took off her mantle, of exceeding great value, and without more ado, let it fall from the stair, cast into his arms; which he took and went his ways out of the Castle most happy and glad of the charitable spoil. And herewith, she went up to the dining room in all haste, fearing she had stayed too long; when the Usher, who had beheld all, before she arrived into the Prince's presence, had declared the whole passage already, to that honourable assembly, not without some show of disgust and complaint for it. Which the Prince understanding, smiled thereat; and she entering in, he arose up from his seat, to meet her as she came, saying most sweetly to her, according to his manner. Good Sister, why stayed you so long; to whom she answered. Truly good Brother, I made what haste I could. The Prince said then: Where hast thou left thy mantle then? when she pointing with her fingar, replied: Look where it hangs on the tack there. And so it was, he looked and viewed it well, examining and turning it up and down, perceived it to be the very same. And was exceedingly astonished thereat, not knowing what to think of it: and all were put into a strange amazement; every one judging and conjecturing thereof, as they were affected, some one thing and some an other: only the Prince being privy to the virtues, and sanctity of his Spouse, made the best construction of it, making very noble reflections thereon, not knowing whether to magnify more, either the operative faith or religious simplicity of his dear Consort, but so as he ascribed the honour of the whole matter unto the Goodness of God, as a most undoubted miracle.   

CERTAIN ADMIRABLE effects of Elizabeth's affection to voluntary Ponerty: and the works she wrought in that kind. CHAP. IX.  
IT is incredible almost to be believed, what a holy celestial Love, and poverty of Spirit, this virtuous Lady had, to an entire renunciation of all worldly riches and pomps whatsoever: I call it holy; because without earthly or terrene mixture; & celestial, because it transported her heart disentangled from the goods of this life, to the fruition of the eternal infinite sovereign, immoveable Goodness, and therefore heavenly: I call it poverty of spirit, because she despoiled herself of all things in affect at least; which notwithstanding I term an, entire renunciation of all worldly riches, because whensoever her affection seemed to hearken to any such thing, she interiorly renounced it by intense acts of the will, disclaiming from it, being wholly enamoured of the chief and only good. This love of hers, to voluntary poverty, may well be resembled to the Turkey stone, being all azure and of a celestial colour; or rather the stone called Lasial from whence the Painters (having beaten it into powder) do fetch the goodly blue or azure they use, being a stone intermixed and diversified sometimes with some little specks of gold, which glister within it: because indeed this Love admits no terrestrial thing, but admirably adorns and beautifies the Soul, is always mixed with specks of gold, to wit, of wisdom and divine contemplations of the supreme goodness and divine providence, whereto she wholly remitted herself; and whereon she only relied, which made her so precious in the eyes of God, as we may discover in the whole narration. And this in her was a perfect alienation and aversion of spirit from all these temporal goods, which God had put into her hands in that state and condition she was in, for the use of her life, and to perform many acts of charity to the poor and necessiteous. For God, would needs have her hart, wholly free and acquit from all affects to terrene things; the better to give up herself afterwards entirely to him in full possession, for the fuller accomplishment of the spiritual, even in this life, and the greater increase of her glory in the next.  
Hence it was that she gave herself wholly to works of mercy and voluntary poverty in all kinds. And first conceiving Idleness to be the Mother and nurse of all evils, and a marvellous hindrance to all Christian piety, whereto she wholly intended to addict herself, for the love of her heavenly Spouse, she had an especial care to bestow all the time she had spare from spiritual exercizes, and other necessary employments about her own person; in workmanshipps and labours of the hand or body. Nor yet did she as the Ladies of her rank are wont to do: who will not set their fingers to any thing, coarser than the finest silks: but delighted rather amongst her maids to handle the coarsest wooles, sometimes in spinning, sometimes carding, sometimes in winding on the reel what others had spun, and then sending or carrynig her bottoms of yarn to be woven and made into the coarser cloth, which ordinarily she distributed to the poor, and especially to the Friars of Saint Francis his Order, to whom she was much devoted; and in whom she noted a most strict observance of the vow of Poverty, whereto she was singularly inclined.  
Out of the great affection she had to this voluntary Poverty, she would mend the habits of the poor with her own hands, setting patch upon patch, with a religious envy or emulation that she might not wear such clothing herself. She trampled under foot, in the interior of her hart, all those worldly things, which Seculars esteem so much; and whereof, these mad lovers of the world make such account, there being nothing more idle, frivolous, and vain. She would herself for the Love of Christ experience now and then the effects of Poverty, and for the commodities which she was forced to take by reason of her state and condition, she used them as she used them not, to serve and Love God the better, and with more freedom; and through excessive Love to fly into the arms of her crucified JESUS, her only good, her joy, her love, her desire. And lastly her whole felicity was, to suffer incommodityes, not only thus voluntarily, as it were in jest, by framing of occasions for the purpose, but even really: wishing indeed, to want the necessities of a common life, for the same Crucifyeds sake, who in the article of death, was by his enemies denied a drop of cold water to quench his thirst.  
She sought out Gentiles, whereof there wanted not store, at that time in those parts, who being already convinced of their infidelity some one way & some another, made suit to receive our holy Faith. These, she instructed, as occasion served, in the Christian Doctrine, & while they remained Cathecumen, she releived them with meat & drink, & what other necessities they stood in need of, until such time as they were baptised and many times be their Godmother herself at the font. She was not content to command such things to be done, which yet had been a most pious work, or to see it done, which had truly been more; but was no ways satisfied if she had not been an Actor in the things themselves: so saithful a Steward she was, of the divine dispensations in the service of Christ in his impotent members.  
It is a wonderful thing, with what courtesy and humility, she visited, comforted and relieved the poor sort of women with child, especially when she heard of their travail in childbirth, or that they were newly delivered: for then, she would come to them at all hours of the night or day, bringing such things along with her, as she thought most necessary for them; neither yet could the length or tediousness of the ways, either craggy or dirty, or of the weather, either rain, wind, hail, or snow, or the noisomeness or i'll savours of such houses, so much as hinder her awhit, from going to them, to perform that corporal work of Mercy, which without some labour of the body, she imagined to be of little worth. And would rather want her own commodities, yea miss even things about her that seemed necessary, than the poor should want any thing which she could remedy. She was doubtless a rare pattern of Charity, the jewel of that age, a Margarite for purity and simplicity; a Ruby or Carbuncle for inflamed Charity to God and divine Love, and especially for her singular affect to Poverty and the poor, a Saphire right; and therefore when she left all beside, to put her in mind of that virtue above the rest; she kept and ware that stone.  
The Sapphire is a stone of a pleasing colour to behold, and the soul of this Lady, was most pleasing to God, as we may well conjecture; how beyt with herself she were ever displeased. And for as much as, the Sapphire, is a solid stone, and not transparent, this soul being invested with the love of humility, was always solidiy founded upon her nothing, being one indeed that could not be prolated or pierced by the light, or rays of any vanity soever. The Saphire is unapt for sculpture, they cannot engrave any thing upon it; and this soul so humble, could receive no strange impression contrary to that, which she once considerately thought or resolved upon, or to that which she saw and verily believed of herself: no opinion or vain estimation of herself, no vaunting word, or the like could be ever heard to come from her, though men and Angels had endeavoured to persuade her to think well herself. That which makes the Saphire more pleasing is, certain little marks or sprinkles of gold here and there, wherewith it shines, and sparkles as it were: so the shafts of love & wisdom, which this soul would dart and send forth to God; and her amiable humiliations, or modest and sweet fashions of fraternal charity wherewith she conversed with all, made her most gracious and acceptable to God and men. This jewel expels all venomous things, and mortifyes the Spider, as S. Bonaventure saith: So her humility easily expelled all sins, and especially vain glory, whose works are as unprofitable as the Spider's web.  
So great and ardent a desire Elizabeth had of this virtue of humility, and especially so inflamed an affect to poverty; as all her practices almost were nothing else but experiments and proofs of that virtue; so as laying aside her princely robes, she would make her maids to dress her up, in a gown of course cloth, and put on some plain kercheife or some such thing about her head, and being so apparelled skee would go soberly up and down in good earnest, with her eyes and countenance cast down to the earth, and not disguizing herself out of levity in that manner, as some will do, but truly and seriously indeed, as desirous in her heart to continue so still; Saing to her Maids I shall one day myself walk in that manner, in the streets in good earnest; when I shall be found worthy to suffer injuries and reproaches for my God's sake. Wherein, as it afterwards proved she showed she had the spirit of Prophecy, to foresee what should happen to her in time to come, which so fell out indeed. Good God, how gallant she mi●…ht have been in apparel, if she would herself, what attendances and obsequiousness, might she have had in such a court of Lords and Ladies. She might have glittered all in gold, have sparkled with Diamonds, been revelling and masking all day and night, among the rest of the Ladies. Nay what pleasures are there which courts can afford, or delights, that liberty and licence can yield, which she might not easily have enjoyed, had she been so pleased; and yet abandoning all for the love of Christ, she embraced this affect of Poverty above all, and even courted the same as a dear friend of hers, and would often prove effects thereof in no small matters. So as no mortal man was ever so drowned in the pleasures of the world, or more doted thereon, than she was enamoured and wholly inebriated therewith, which surely was most grateful and acceptable to God, as may appear by that which follows.  
News was brought, that certain Noblemen of the kingdom of Hungary, were coming to see the Court, being thither sent by the King, th●… father of Elizabeth, upon some weighty affairs and negociations of great importance for both the States, and that now they were near at hand. Which tidings, when the Prince had heard, he went immediately to his Elizabeth, & said unto her, not without some anxiety and perplexity of mind. Have you heard Sister the news? And what news, I pray dear Brother, replied she then, with a cheerful countenance? Behold Ambassadors, are near at hand from our royal Father of Hungary. If that, be all, dear Brother, (said she) they are heartily welcome. Why then, replied he an●…n, and is that all think you, and know you not, how il you are furnished with apparel and decent ornaments, befitting your state and calling to receive and encertaine them with, and to yield them satisfaction, as I desire, for my honour's sake? and which is worse, there is now no time to furnish you better. Alas▪ good Brother, replied she then, there is no cause why this my attire should so trouble you. Since you know well enough, how little I have always regarded such things. For my part, I have but little desire to please men, and to be gracious in their sight, with the hazard of losing the grace and favour of my heavenly Spouse. But what, trow you, will they signify to your royal Father at their return: Good Brother, said she, dispose you of the rest for their better entertainment, and take you no care for me, I trust our Lord will provide for both our honours. And not long after the Ambassadors came to the Court, and were very Princely and honourably entertained by the Landgrave, and the Nobles. When after they had delivered the letters of credence, and the effect of their Embassage with a gracious audience on the part of the Landgrave. The Princess Elizabeth herself was sent for, to come into the presence at the earnest suit of the Ambassadors themselves, who had an earnest desire to behold her now a woman grown, whom long since they had seen to be a hopeful Infant, and whom fame had spread to be a Paragon of the world, both for beauty, personage, and much more for her singular virtues and eminent sanctity of life. When behold, she came in, like a He●…ter before Assuerus? for lo, the Author of all beauty and exterior grace no less than interior; had so adorned her with comeliness, and especial outward graces withal, besides the inward of the soul and mind, as she seemed to be an Angel apparelled in flesh, and adorned with purple beset with the richest stones; to the great astonishment of all the beholders, and especially the Prince himself, who was privy to her great defects of such ornaments, jewels, & attires, he having before distributed them to the poor, & had no time to be furnished anew, When secretly demanding of her, how it came to pass, Elizabeth made answer smiling. My Lord and Master can when he list, prepare such ornaments for me. Nor was the same observed by the P●…ince himself only, but divers others; especially by her Maids about her, who now regarded her as a great Saint, and favourite of God.   

THE DEVOUT AND pious exercises of Elizabeth, at the Sacrifice of the Mass. CHAP. X.  
OUR Saviour Christ, as we read in the Gospel, one day found a great noise and tumult in the Gallery of the Temple, by such as bartered therein, and bought and sold; and therefore being inflamed with the 
Io. 2. 5.  zeal of God's honour, with certain cords and whips which he took up from the ground, as one in choler, drove them forth of the Temple: and as S. Mark saith, overthrew all their ware. But now, alas, were he to come into our Temples, what abuses doubtless might he there find to reform amongst us, what noises, what giggling, what chatting, wha●… conversations, and perhaps lascivious glances?  
But this lady Elizabeth here of the contrary, was exceeding devout, as well at her entrance into the house of God; as during the whole time she was there present: Knowing well, that one of the greatest devotions a Christian could use, was to hear Mass every day, or as often as he could. First, because the excellence and dignity of the Mass is infinite, as being a Sacrifice wherein Christ is offered to God; who offered up himself once on the Cross, with all his travels and merits; and is the most perfect act of Religion, wherein we give God the greatest honour we can give him: and secondly, is the most excellent act of prayer we can possibly make. Wherefore from her infancy and tender age, till her dying day, she was wont always to be present at this venerable and dreadful Sacrifice; and very often was there herself before any other; when she would keep her mind as free from distractions, as she could; and if she ware any ornament, which with convenient decency might well be spared, she would either put it off quite, or handsomely conceal it, some way or other, until the Offices and Ceremonies of so admirable a Sacrifice were ended. But especially, she used a singular reverence, as well while the Gospel was reading, as the body of our Lord JESUS Christ was handling; applying no doubt her whole attention thereto, and preparing the mouth of her Soul for the worthy receiving thereof.  
Her manner of hearing Mass was commonly in this sort. Most devoutly on her knees, with great silence, and deep and profound reverence, and attention, without speaking with any or turning her head on the one side or other, but fixing her eyes on the Altar, and Priest (who represents Christ) & observing the actions he used: for all is a lively representation of that, which the Redeemer of life, did, & suffered in his most holy life & passion. When the Priest at the beginning, said the General Confession; she silently said it with the Minister also, being contrite for her sins, and craving pardon for the same. After which, she attended to the words of the Priest, because they are sacred, it is fi●… to hear them, though they be not understood.  
The Gospel and 〈◊〉 being ended, she said inwardly in herself, making lively acts of faith. I confess to thee Lord, all these verityes, & whatsoever are contained in the Creed, and the whole divine Scripture. And through thy divine favour am ready to yield my life for them. Do thou my God give me grace, that with my life, and holy works, I may confess, teach, & preach them to all, unto thy glory.  
At the Offertory, she made an oblation of herself, and devoutly presented herself and her occasions and affairs to God, that with the purest and most holy offering of his most blessed Son, they might fairly ascend into his divine presence in an odour of sweetness.  
At the Sanctus, she would convert herself to the most holy Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, true God, in the company of all the Angels, and of all the Blessed Spirits, wishing that all creatures, and all men whosoever, would know, praise, & serve the same; and she especially above the rest, might love and honour it, with all her forces, and all the powers of her soul.  
While the Priest was reciting the Secrets, and Cannon of the Mass, she meditated upon some point of the Passion of our Saviour Christ, with an admirable fervour as her devotion served, and if not, she recited some vocal prayers.  
At the Memento, she would call her proper necessities to mind, and those of others, and propose them sweetly to her Lord with inflamed affects.  
At the Elevation of the sacred Host, she would most devoutly and reverently adore the most sacred body of our Lord JESUS Christ, which for her and all the world, was exalted and extended on the tree of the Crosse.  
At the Elevation of the Chalice, she would likewise adore with unspeakable inward affects and aspirations, the most precious Blood of her Redeemer, which was shed for her and all the world; beseeching her Saviour through the same to make her partaker of the fruits of the Tree of Life which he was himself: And since he died for her sins; she might dye to them; and live to him; and that her hart might be the rock, whereon his Cross might fix itself, and be the Vessel whereinto his most precious blood, might be received, a liquor of infinite value and price, and therewith be washed and cleansed from all her sinful spots.  
At the Second Memento, she called to mind very seriously the Souls of the faithful deceased, and prayed for those, whom she thought best of, and were dearest to her, most heartily craving, to make them partakers of that dreadful Sacrifice, and speedily to enter into the joys of Paradise, where they might live, and reign with him for ever.  
At the Agnus Dei, she demanded an ample pardon and remission of her sins, imploring his favour and graces that she might receive him, if not sacramentally, at least spiritually, and that by means of the divine Sacrament, so received, she might be united with his infinite goodness.  
And thus she used to communicate at least spiritually every day, which surely was a singular benefit for her spiritual profit, and which advanced her to so eminent a degree of sanctity.  
She was wont to burn with a vehement affection to the blessed Sacrament, admiring much, how so admirable a Sacrament, should be afforded & bestowed upon mortal creatures, and deeply considering & pondering the omnipotence and infinite wisdom of God, in preparing such remedy against the rancour and poison of sin, and his infinite bounty in the free and liberal distribution thereof. And when she communicated sacramentally she was often heard to break forth into these aspirations. Burn then o fire, and consume whatsoever thou seest unworthy in me o●… thy presence & which may, put any obstacle to thy grace. O Bread of Angels, nourish my soul, and may it lose all taste of whatsoever is displeasing to thee Most sweet JESUS. O say that same to me, which thou saidst to Zacheus heretofore, to wit▪ Salvation is fulfiled in thy hewse▪ God of my hart, let me be wholly thine▪ and let none but thou, have possession of my soul. After which, for a quarter of an hour she seemed to enjoy the presence of the Sacred Host within her; and then to break forth again into these acts of admiration. Who am I and who art thou my God, that I should be so visited by thee! O eternal God, what is man, whom so unworthy thou settest thy hart upon! Nay what is the Son of man, since thou lodgest they flesh, thy blood, thy soul, thy Divinity, within him, as in a most delicious bower. She further admired, how the Lord of Majesty, and King of glory, not contenting himself, to become man, for the health and salvation of men, but that he would needs abase and humble himself so low, as to remain with us, in this Sacrament, and to leave us on earth such a visible throne as it were of his mercy: more excellent without comparison, than the Ark of Alliance, to have our recourse thereto, in all our necessities.  
In these cogitations, the dignity of man's nature, especially of the soul, would glide into her mind, for that God so created it merely and wholly for himself. The heavens, he afforded to the Angels, the air to the birds, the Sea to the fishes, and the earth to plants; and Man to whom but to himself? Man therefore was created for God only: O then, may he be (she would say) entirely possessed by God alone. She would further imagine, how the Angels were of a nature more noble, and sublime than Man, yet God hath so much valued this his creature, as he hath in a sort subjected these noble spirits to his service; according to the Prophett: He hath commanded 
〈◊〉. ●…. 11  the Angels to guard man in all his ways: and to foresee and prevent the occasions of his falls. And how not contented herewith, he made such reckoning of him, as that notwithstanding his utter ruin, he redeemed him, with the precious redemption of his own blood, and after nourished him being redeemed, with the wholesome food of his own flesh, affording his real presence and assistance thereto. Then she would inwardly grieve at the ingratitude of men, for all these graces and favours, so vainly bestowed on millions of them, most highly extolling the goodness of God for all.  
Now this, so vehement fervour of hers being such, through these and a thousand such ardent meditations, pious exercises, and occupations of the mind, amidst her holy Communions, which she often frequented▪ it could not easily be concealed, but that some inflamed affects of so great a fire and ardour within; must needs break forth at last. For so it happened on a time, while she was in these serious and deep contemplations, immediately after the Consecration of the blessed Host; that she was environed with a great light, which gave forth such a flash and splendour, as a certain Priest thereby, who for his virtuous life deserved the sight, could not (as after he confessed) behold her face, such a beam of glory, proceeded from thence. When returning into herself again, and casting the eyes of her body and soul upon the Crucifix on the Altar hanging most piteously wounded on the Cross, and all empurpled with his most sacred and precious blood, she said unto him by way of Apostrophe Tell me I prithee, how much is this blood of thine worth. Ten thousand worlds here beneath (she replied herself) and as many of those above, by a thousand degrees, cannot once approach to the worth & value thereof. And yet hath the same been given, & afforded me. O wretch as I am to serve for my redemption. Then do thou value thy worth, o soul of mine, and make an entire resolution from henceforth to serve him better, than hitherto thou hast done, who hath so much honoured and cherished thee. O my Lord jesus thy love hath caused thee to suffer as much for me alone, as for all the men and women created. Then give me grace from this time forwards in consideration of this my true nobility to acknowledge in some manner this infinite love of thine. And since I bear the image of thy Divinity so stamped as it were and printed in me, since I am so created for thee only, let me wholly and entirely be thine only.  
Thus would this Saintly Woman apostrophize, and Dialogue sometimes upon every occasion, either secretly within herself when she was in the presence with others, in Church or Chapel, or else with the voice, as she found opportunity.   

OF THE GREAT CHARITY of Elizabeth, to her neighbour, and her exceeding liberality to the poor. CHAP. XI.  
AS to arrive at the Port with a Galley, it is not enough to have eyes to consider the card and compass, and to gaze on the North Pole, to have a Tongue, to discourse of the winds, a Sea Map, to contemplate the regions and degrees therein, if they have not besides a pair of hands and arms to row with the oars. So to arrive at the haven of Glory, it is not enough to speculate with the eyes of faith on the divine mysteries, to reason and discourse well and suttly of them; nor to pray much, an argument of their hope, and confidence in God, united with a good faith in him, if they put not their hands beside to Works, in testimony of this faith and hope. Believe it, wings are not more necessary for a fowl to fly with, and to soar up into the air, then good works, especially Alms to the poor, are simply necessary to such as would attain unto heaven. Hence it was, that Elizabeth so addicted herself to works of piety, devotion, and all Christian exercises, as she did. For she always, and especially in the Lent, observed most religiously the precepts of the holy Church, and Christian traditions, & observances, by giving herself not only to fasting and prayer, as we said before, but even also to show much charity to her Neighbour, in assisting the distressed, and relieving the poor with plentiful alms, and in chastizing her weak body, with frequent Cilices, Disciplines, and watching. She observed with great devotion the Solemnities of the Holy Week, wherein the mysteries of our Redemption are represented to us: and celebrated the same with such fervour of mind, as clearly showed her intense love to her Saviour, who so highly praised to the Pharisey, the good and pious works of his servant Magdalen, as he forgot not to recount the least of them, and recite them with all the special circumstances they had: showing how grateful and pleasing to him were all those little offices of piety, which she did about his pertreame love towards him▪ For that kissing of his feet, that bathing with her tears, that warming them with her ardent sighs, those anointings with precious unguents, yea the drying and wiping them with the tresses of her hair, though so slender an office it was, yet of singular weight with the pious and considerate JESUS.  
In the Holy Week again, especially on Maunday Thursday, which day is solemnised, in remembrance of Christ's last Supper, laying aside all costly apparel, attired as one of the vulgar sort, she was wont to walk the Stations in the afternoon, and to visit the Churches in that humble manner, so as one that knew her not well, might have easily mistaken her for one of the meaner sort; when sending for twelve of the Poor, she disdained not to kneel down before them, and to wash, wipe, and kiss their feet, and finally to give them twelve pence a piece in money together 〈…〉 loaf. Upon which day, on a time▪ she entertained in that sort, no small number of leprous persons, for of such only she made choice, whose hands & feet, when she had washed, she disdained not to kiss the swellings of their loathsome sores, & after that time, she never shunned such manner of people, but walked & freely talked with them, and familiarly sat down by them, as if they had been whole and sound, and exhorting them to Patience, she would give them a liberal alms. The night before Good Friday, she spent in prayer, and in deep meditation of our Lord's passion, and charged her Maids in any case, to have an especial care, not to show any reverence to her on that day, but would needs go the Stations barefoot. And at every Sepulchre and Altar, lay down a bundle of flax, and set up a burning taper, and put a quantity of Incense, or other such like perfumes into a Thurible; that the Churches might be full of odoriferous and fragrant savours wheresoever she came; and so taking the smallest moneys she could get together, and passing in company with the meanest sort, she went up and down the streets barefoot, dealing them very bounty fully to all the poor.  
Some there were, who esteemed this manner of distribution of small moneys, to be nothing suitable to her state and calling, and to proceed of Coveteousnes, and of not of Princely and heroical disposition, saying, that she being a King's daughter, should use the bounty and liberality of a Princess; and for her to abase herself so, as one of the multitude and vulgar sort was most unworthy, and no argument at all, of her sanctity or devotion, but rather of a base and degenerate mind. But the glorious Princess, made little account of all those whisperings, and regarded not what the malevolous said, and thought it better to relieve many, with many litles, then to give much to a few. And therefore ceased not, to persever daily in that which she had so seriously determined to do, assuredly presuming that God who is above, and sees all things, knew her hart, to be as far from any covetous humour, in so doing, as those rash and sharp censurers, were alienate from truth and equity.  
On the days of public Litanyes in the streets, the Lady Elizabeth, clothed herself in course cloth, and so went along in Processions, & to hear the Sermons in the Church, would thrust herself among the meaner sort, and take up her place amidst them, as holding the Seed of heaven for the most part, to spring and grow up more willingly and abundantly, in the soil of an humble hart.  
It happened now, in the year of our Lord 1225. the Prince taking his journey unto Apulia, to wait on the Emperor, that through all the Provinces of Germany, was a general famine, and many perished for want of food. Whereupon Elizabeth, taking occasion by the Prince's absence to exercise the works of piety, with more liberty than ever, began with a bountiful hand to distribute to the poor, the corn which had been gathered and stored up in all her Dominions, allowing to a great number of them a daily portion of corn, for their maintenance, according to the age and condition they were of, and the extreme necessity they were in. Nor did any of them want (through the especial grace and providence of God) though happily they received less than a measure convenient to sustain them with▪ And forasmuch as she understood there were many sick and infirm persons, who by reason of their maladies or other impediments, were not able to ascend unto the Castle and Palace which was situated on the top of a steepy hill; she caused presently an Hospital of an exceeding beauty and capacity to be erected in the bottom of the said Hill, under the castle, and therein placed especially such of the poor, as were most maimed in their limbs, & the weakest and feeblest of them, whom she in person herself once a day, and sometimes more, would go to visit, though hindered not a little by the difficult descent of that craggy mountain: and then she would demand of each one, how they did, and what they ailed most, or what kind of meat liked them best, which when she understood, she gave to every one accordingly of the provision she had brought along with her for that intent, with so much love and tenderness towards them as you would rather have thought her a Mother among so many Children, than so great a Lady to wait on the poor, & with her own hands to feed the feeble and weak, & to lift them up in their Beds, who were otherwise not able to stir themselves, yea to carry them in her arms, and make their beds, and perform other servile offices about them, which her Maids could by no means endure.  
Among which, so dispicable creatures, she principally applied herself, to poor Orphans and little Children left destitute & void of friend, whom with a motherly care, she would ●…end herself, or cause to be brought up, so as all of them flocked about her, calling her Mother, as well as they might, she being no less indeed, them a common Parent to them: showing herself besides, most tender & indulgent to choose Children particularly as were either naturally ill-favoured by reason of some deformity or other, or weak through sickness or infirmity, or loathsome and fastidious, by reason of sores and V●…cers, not disdaining to touch them with her holy hands as occasion served, and even to dandle them in her lap, whom her Maids for horror only, could not patiently abide to look on; such was her Charity and fortitude of mind, as with the one, she would attempt any thing, and go through stitch with the other, in whatsoever she once took in hand.  
She made choice of certain of the poor from the rest of the multitude, that resorted to her, whom she especially commanded, at a time appointed to attend at the Castle Gate, to whom with her own hands she distributed the scraps and fragments which were left at her table, using now & then some pretty slights to spare them not only from her own trencher, but even likewise, when handsomely she could, from those of others, whom she knew well could help themselues otherwise, to the end the poor who waited upon her, might not depart empty away, but find sufficient refection, whensoever they came: and this (as I said) she distributed with her own hands. Which though to some might seem undecent and extravagant, that so great a personage should descend so low, saying the office might better have been recommended to others: yet I presume if they consider the Gifts of the holy Ghost, & the fire of Charity, that burned within her, they would leave to wonder or spare to censure her; but rather reverence and admire her for it, and finally endeavour to imitate her rare example.  
This her singular Charity by some outward signs of Gods especial favours towards her, seemed to be not a little approved by him, which how little soever they appeared to be, yet proceeding from him, are not to be accounted little.  
Upon a time, Elizabeth bringing down from the Castle certain presents of toys made of earth and glass, for the use of Children, and being set on horseback, with her lapful of such things, to deal amongst the little Innocents' as occasion served; her apron by chance being lose, althose little toys fell to ground, which never left tumbling down, till they came to the bottom on a rocky, and stony way, which being taken up and brought to her, were found to be as whole and entire as ever.  
She took great pleasure sometimes, to have the poor fed within the Gates of her Palace, and which is more, somewhat near to her own table, to whom now and then, she reached meat with her own hands, of the dishes which she herself was served with, and many times caused them to be left alone by themselves, that they might eat, drink, and chat together the more freely, as wishing them, together with the satiety of the belly, to have some good relaxation of the mind, that so God might be honoured either ways. Whereby it happened once, that they having drunk a good quantity of drink amongst them, the Vessel was yet found to remain little less replete than at first, in testimony no doubt, how grateful this kind of Hospitality was to the divine Majesty.  
She took order in the Hospital, for 28. poor people, to be carefully provided of all things necessary, and that when any of them died, an other should be put into the place. Such as daily in her sight received alms otherwise, according to the quality or necessity of each one, were nine hundred persons at least. And for the rest, whom she otherwise liberally sustained by the means 〈…〉, and Officers, they could not be told. Wherein she wasted, spent, and consumed the revenues of a most opulent Signory, and oftentimes sold the clothes and ornaments from her back, and her jewels, and the hangings and furniture of her house; that the members of Christ might not perish for hunger. In which holy exercise she served God with so good a will, as that a certain sick body, one day begging a little milk at her hands, she took up a pail herself, (being so great a Lady and Princess) and went to milk with her delicate fingers, unacquainted therewith, so much milk as satisfied the party.  
In this manner, Elizabeth sustained the poor, until Harvest time, when she dismissed them who were able to work, providing them with sickles and instruments for the purpose, and with hose and shoes to their feet, and to the rest being weaker, she gave apparel and moneys 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 most. To 〈◊〉 Women, she afforded Kercheifs and Veils for the head, whereof some were of silk, which she willed them to sell to supply their greater necessities, and not to wear them themselves, willing such as were able to labour, to earn their living, wishing the rest to do somewhat at least towards it. One of which having, unlooked for, received a Gift of that kind, cried out for joy, she was the happiest Woman alive, and being oppressed with the suddenness thereof, fell down in a swoon, which Elizabeth seeing, supposing her dead, was troubled thereat; fearing in deed, lest she might be culpable of her death, in bestowing a bigger Alms upon her than was meet.  
When any of the poor died, she was not content to afford them winding sheets of her own spinning, but she herself would sock them and lay them forth, without any manner of horror at all, and graced and honoured them further with her presence to their graves, even to the end of their Exequyes, and funeral Rites, and pay the duties of all. And was even so forward in this act of Charity, as she spent a large web of new linen merely in such uses: and much it was against her own inclination (if she could have helped it) that the wealthy people, who had always their ease and pleasures in the world, should go forth of the same with new Syndons; & not the poor▪ who in the world had been served with rags: So highly she esteemed the poor.   

OF A COMPLAINT MADE against Elizabeth, to her husband: With some examples of his Noble disposition therein. CHAP. XII.  
IT cannot be denied, but the state of Matrimony is a yoke, howsoever in some a most sweet yoke, though it please the Apostle to term it a weighty one, while he saith, that. Such as marry do take upon them a troublesome 
2. Cor. 6. 14. 1. Cor. 7. 28.  burden of the flesh. And to say truth, if the Married unite themselves to carry the said burden equally between them, it is a light and pleasant yoke, otherwise the same is a most intolerable clog. To this purpose, 
Eccl. 25. 2.  the Wiseman saith very well: That three things are very pleasing to God and men: Concord among Brothers, Love of the Neighbours, and a Union and Conformity between Man and Wife. This same are the Married to endeavour to have by all means possible, without which, the married life were no better than that of Slaves in a Galley, whereas with union and Peace, it is no less than a Life of Angels.  
This union and Concord in this state, the happy couple of Princes kept inviolable between them, and this was that, which the Enemy of all peace envied in them, and laboured what possibly he could, by his Ministers and malignant persons, to infringe through malicious suggestions framed against the innocent Spouse, traducing her unto her husband at his return from Apulia, as a prodig all in his absence; and a most immeasurable waster of his estate, so much exaggerating the Complaint against her, as they blushed not to aver, she had left them nothing to feed on, having unnecessarily consumed all the rents in Alms and liberalityes they knew not what, which they impiously blasphemed with the title of prodigalityes. But what answer made the Landgrave think you, to those bitter complaints against her? Like a noble and worthy Prince, setting light by all those shrewd accusations: Let my Sister alone (said he) and spend a God's name, as she hath hitherto done, so she leave me my Castles and Manors free. For I assure myself we shall not want, so long as we suffer her to relieve and favour the necessiteous people as she doth. A worthy answer surely of such a One, in whose hart the love and honour of his Wife was more engraven, then of all the ample demeans he had, though never so great; being more willing to have them so dispensed and dispersed with her liberal hand: then that so sovereign a virtue as Charity, should not be exercised; which to the living augments and heaps up riches, even in the present world, and forsakes not the dead unto the next. So as well may that same of Ecclesiastes be said of him. Blessed is the Man, that hath a good Wife. And again: A good Wife, is a good portion for such as fear God: she shall be given to a Man for his good works.  
And surely, this Prince was a very good man, as shall appear by some things I shall here but touch briefly, and show how worthy he was of such a Wife, and of the former Eulogies I afforded him, declaring especially among other things, how eminent and singular the Virtue of Chastity was in him, and how remarkable was his loyalty to his Wife, and fidelity to the Marriage bed.  
Where by the way, is to be noted, the unhappy condition of the Princely and royal state, in that of all others, they have not only invisible and spiritual enemies, continually assailing the Citadel of their hearts, infernal spirits I mean, which labour nothing more, then to surprise them, and lead them into sin, as also Domestical at home, to wit, the flatteryes and allurements of the flesh, but even the enchantments of the world, to charm their ears, and the others senses, thereby to cast them on the rocks and shelves of perdition, and wrack of honour.  
For, on a time, there happened in Court certain Revels and Masks of Ladies, where the Prince alone, without Elizabeth, was spectator from a Gallery window; and was noted seriously to observe a beautiful Lady amongst them, more attentively then ordinary: A certain Courteour who sat the nearest to him perceiving his attention, and measuring the Prince's inward thoughts by the Ell of his own inclination and corrupt judgement, said to him whispering in his ear. Noble Prince, if it please your Excellence, to enjoy the happy embraces of that Lady there, I make no doubt but to put your Highness into full possession of her. He said no more; but therein had said enough, to stir the coals of the Princely indignation against him: For, casting a stern look upon this Minister of Satan, with sparkling eyes, immediately he bade him hold his peace, and speak no more in that kind, nor once suggest such lewdness and dishonesties to his chaste hart. Thou deceiued'st thyself (said he) if thou thoughtest I heeded or regarded that Lady thou meanest; for I tell thee I had nobler obi●…cts in mind, when mine eyes seemed to wander as they did. From the creature, I could tell how to mount to my Creator, while thou endeavourest by the same, to cast me down into the centre of impietyes, & to avert me wholly from the Creator: No more then of that tenor, I say, unless you have a mind to prove and incur my just displeasure. Whereat the carnal spirit vanished thence & slunk away: Might all such Panders be so well checked, then should we not have such debauchments and dissolutions in Court.  
An other time, the Prince being come into the house of a certain Count, a special friend & kinsman of his, upon a visit for his own recreation; & after a magnificent & Courtly entertainment: the Supper ended, & the time of rest being come, when he was now left to himself, retired from the company, & every one was brought ceremoniously to their Lodgings, the virtuous Prince was no soover lying in his bed, & recommended his soul to the custody and tuiton of his Angel & peculiar Patrons, and fall'n asleep; but a lewd & impudent woman, incensed and raging with the fire of Lust, or else perhaps for golden ends; found the means to steal into his Chamber, unperceived of any, where privily despoiling herself of her Clothes, got into his bed and laid herself by him. Which the good Prince perceiving at last, through the rustling of her silks, or awaked by his good Angel, started out of bed, & calling for his faithful Counsellor and Secretary Gualther, and the Gentlemen of his privy Chamber, lay near unto him, caused them to arise, and remove her thence, and to dispatch her away with some money; supposing belike the covetousness thereof had brought her into so strange and exorbitant a practice: afterwards speaking of the matter, he protested before God, that howbeit he had no aversion or detestation from the sin of Adultery at all, as offensive to God, yet for the respect he bore to Elizabeth his wife, he would by no means have given way to so notable an injury to his dearest Spouse, whom he honoured so much.  
Behold an other of the like kind. A certain principal Captain and Commander of his, on a time, having occasion upon public affairs to treat with the Landgrave, the business dispatched, fell by chance into discourse of his own particulars, complaining how unfortunate he was, that whereas God, had blessed him with a competent estate, & a beautiful wife, he should be so unhappy through sterility, to leave no heirs behind him, to inherit his substance and the honours he had purchased in the field: and therefore if it pleased his Highness he might use his wife, to raise him seed to his house, and he would willingly embrace them as his own. Whereat the Prince was abashed, and pausing with himself, shaped him so wise and discreet an answer, as he let him see the folly of his desire in his own respect; in seeking to purchase him an heir in that sort, and for himself discovered in his countenance a high disdain and deep indignation against him for making the motion; and framing so fowl a suggestion against the honour of both their Beds, and chiefly in contempt of a principal commandment of God, and so, an open practice of Rebellion against his divine Majesty. The Captain admired the wisdom and Loyalty of the Prince, and craving pardon of him, protested he was extremely edified with his speeches, & instructed with his virtuous example, advowing he had made him a Penitent and Convertite, being so convinced through the potency of his reasons: & so humbly took his leave, with the favour after all, to kiss his hand, in token of his infallible reconciliation, after so insolent and rash attempt.  
So great was the modesty of this Prince, & so singular the gift of Sobriety & Continence in him, as there was none of his family or any of his most familiar friends, how confident soever, ●…hat at any time durst open their mouths in his presence, to let fall the least word of impudicity, were it never so seasoned with wit, or innocently intended for mirth or relaxation: much less any rudeness in that kind or gross obsceanes; so delicate and chaste were his ears. And whensoever any one was so bold, to use any least dishonest gesture, or utter any wanton word in his presence, they were sure to have a sharp rebuke, at least, if not a more severe punishment.  
Such was his devotion to the holy Sacrifice of the Mass, as he would daily hear it, & reverently assist therrat, and cause it often to be solemnised & celebrated with great pomp of Musics, and his Chapel to be adorned with tapestryes, the best and richest the Country afforded. In all his words and deeds he was true and constant, keeping always a steadfast & even tenor, not to day one thing, to morrow an other, as you left him so should your find him still the same. His wit, and memory was so pregnant, as he needed no Memorials, unless very brief, to put him in mind in the least or weightiest affairs, a word was enough. His behaviour was gracious and debonair, and yet not ef●…eminate or dissolute, but demure and modest, especially amongst women; so as his presence was enough to compose the freer dispositions, and to give a check to the liberty of those times.  
His pity and compassion to the poor was such, as no bounties and liberalityes towards them, besides the particular and extraordinary alms he gave himself, or caused to be distributed amongst them through his assent; he became a Rival with his Wife also, in those heavenly bootyes which she sent before into heaven. In a word, he was a good Man, and an notable Regent which do not always meet, while his devotions and private spiritual gusts, hindered not the progress of public affairs, his even and just distributions of times, so tempered & ordered all things, as he seemed perpetual in those occasions, and yet equally found in Closet and private retirements. He gave audience and executed justice himself, with such equality, patience, and longanimity, as he not only by his example led the way to other Princes, but seemed to be a lamp before them. He knew how to show Mercy in its time, and to bend the brow when occasion served, as also to contract or dilate the palm. Finally to maintain Peace in such sort, as he never was seen to break it with his neighbour Princes.    


THE SECOND BOOK.   

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE LIFE OF S. ELIZABETH.  

The publishing of the Croysado, and the manner how it first began. CHAP. I.  
THE people of God, now for the space of 480. years, had patiently endured a most intolerable and cruel servitude, not ceasing continually to cry unto God for mercy, and compassion upon their deplorable state with unspeakable tears, deep groans, incredible sighs perpetual prayers and orisons, beseeching him, through his divine goodness and clemency, to have pity on his afflicted people; and pardoning their offences, to turn away the rod of his indignations and displeasure against them. Till at last being now fall'n into the depth of all miseries, invoking te Abyss of mercy, they were heard by him who is the God of all consolation The form or model whereof, or rather the first occasion taken of their redemption, I will here declare in brief.  
The holy City of God Jerusalem, sometimes most dear unto him: being thus in a miserable bondage, subject to infinite oppression under the tyranny of the Infidels and Saracyns, among those who of devotion went thither to visit the venerable places of our Redemption, being led with the same fervour; came likewise a very notable man of the Church, called Peter the Hermit by name, borne in the diocese of Amiens in France.  
He was a person but little of stature, and for the exterior, carrying no great part with him? but of a great vivacity of spirit, and fit for high achievements, being interiorly accomplished otherwise with singular virtue and prudence, as one that could well explicate and deliver himself and his affairs. This Pilgrim entering into the City with the rest, and noting the wretched & calamiteous state of the faithful people living therein, & thither repairing for devotion sake, resenting the matter and taking it unto the hart, found the means to acquaint himself with simeon the Bishop thereof, a very good man, of a tender conscience, and fearing God, to confer with him thereof, and to consult upon some remedy. When Peter understanding from him the lamentable state of that City, groaning under the intolerable burden of the Saracyns and Enemies of the Faith; was so moved thereat, that he could not refrain from tears, but demanded what help there was for so great mischeefs and evils: the good Pastor replied. The sins of the people are cause of al. But if the Christians were so zealous of the honour of God, as they be, some help might yet be found, but there is none will take our cause in hand. Whereupon the pious Hermit undertook, that if he would write to his Holiness, to the Emperor, and to the rest of the Kings and Princes of the west: and give them to understand at large the miseries and afflictions the people were in, confirming it with the authority of his seal; he himself would be the messenger if he pleased to make use of him, and would most faithfully discharge ●…he trust. And would moreover viva voce, make a fuller remonstrance unto them, of what his eyes had seen; adding spurs where need required to incite them to so noble an enterprise.  
This free promise of his, seemed to come from heaven, and pleased the Patriarch & the assistance of the faithful beyond measure; and therefore most affectuously the holy man thanked him for his offer, and addressed letters of that tenor with those of credence as the matter required. In the mean while, the poor man finding his shoulders too feeble for a business of that importance, began to faint, but yet his great Charity put him on more hotly upon it. And the rather having received a Revelation from God in his sleep, to encourage him to it, which signified thus much. Arise up Peter, and be diligent, not fearing to perform what thou hast undertaken; assuring thyself I will never forsake thee, but will be always with thee. For the time shall come, that the holy places shallbe purged and cleansed from all pollution, and my servants succoured. Whereupon Peter awaking, leapt up, wholly comforted with the vision, being encouraged thereby to prosecute the business; and so taking his leave of the Patriarch, with good diligence arrived at Rome, where finding Pope Vrban, he presented him the letters, and faithfully made him a perfect relation of the state of Jerusalem, and did it so efficaciously, as moved him not a little to apply what remedy he could. And therefore immediately, being the year of the Incarnation of our Lord. 1085. Pope Vrban called a Council at Clerimont, wherein he assembled all the Provinces beyond the Alps. So as on the Month of November following, was gathered together in the Name of our Lord JESUS Christ, a holy assembly of Archbishops, and other Prelates of the Church, accompanied with a good number of Princes of the Kingdom of France. And Vrban remembering his promise to Peter the Hermit, in a most eloquent and prolix Oration, recommended to the Council the important buisynes of Jerusalem: and having lively set down the deplorable state of those countries, he granted that famous Indulgence of the Croysado, in these words.  Being assured of the mercy of God, and of the authority he granted to the Apostles Saint Peter and Saint Paul, we remit to all Christians, who shall take up arms against the infidels, and shall voluntarily offer themselves to this voyage, hazarding their lives in defence of the Faith, and of their Christian Brothers; all the penances enjoined them heretofore for their sins, and for which they have not yet satisfied. And such as being truly penitent shall depart this life, may assure themselves of the pardon of their sins, and the fruition of the eternal life, prepared for such as shall willingly offer themselves to the service of God. In the mean while, they who shall present themselves with a lively and ardent faith, shall be received by us as Children of true obedience, under the safeguard and defence of the Church, and under the protection of Saint Peter and S. Paul. And so we will and Ordain them to be in all security of their persons, and for their Goods exempt from all troubles and impediments. And if it chance, (which Good forbid) that any one should rashly and temerariously molest them, we will that he be excommunicated for it by the Bishop of the place, and that the censure have the force; that full restitution be made them, as well in their honour, and persons, as in goods, with due satisfaction of all their damages and interests. And if it happen that the Bishops and the other Prelates of the Church should be negligent, remiss, or pusillanimous in this point, and shall not resist with all their power such delicts, we will then to be suspended of all their state and dignity, until they have obtained pardon of the Sea Apostolic. 
These Indulgences of the holy Pastor, were received as come from heaven, and all with one consent applauded the same, and embraced them willingly. Whereby may easily be judged how the words of Christ were accomplished here. I come not to bring peace into the land, but the sword. For presently you might see the husband to absent himself from his wife, fathers to abandon their children, Children their parents. In so much, as the Religious who had vowed a recluse and solitary life, went forth of their cloisters. Now it was ordained, and as it were die divine commandment enjoined, to all those who would employ themselves in this happy warfare, to wear on the right shoulder some sign of the Passion of our Lord JESUS Christ, for example, a Cross in testimony of the vow they had made, to go visit the Land, wherein was literally accomplished the precept of JESUS Christ in 
Luc 9  the Gospel. He that will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his Cross, and follow me.  
Thus much I have set down, of the first origin of that famous enterprise which then began, and which hath been divers times upon sundry occasions since renewed. Whereof one was after two notable victories which the Christian Princes had got upon the common Enemy which gave them encouragement to advance the Croysado anew, being unanimously resolved upon, in the Council of Lat●…ran, one of the greatest and most famous assemblies that ever Christendom had seen: where besides the Ambassadors from all Princes were two Patriarcks, 70. Archbishops, 402. Bishops, and eight hundred other Prelates.  
Andrew the King of Hungary and Transiluanie the aforesaid father of our Elizabeth, was chosen General of the Christian forces at that time, which he willingly accepted for the zeal of God's glory, and desire of honour. But perceiving no good success of the enterprise, he gave over and returned home, re infecta. After which, all Europe being now in great dread and amazement, for the late happy successes of the infidel Army in Egypt. Frederick Babarossa the Emperor, who had espoused the daughter of the King of Jerusalem, was entreated by all the Christian Princes to succour the decayed & declining state of Christendom. Wherefore he assembled a great part of the Christian Princes at Cremona to consult thereof, among which was our noble Landgrave the forwardest of all, to promote the enterprise, so as he was held the fittest of any to have the chief Command, if any such thing were resolved upon: which were the occasions of those former services and attendances on Frederick the Emperor in Apulia, we mentioned above.   

HOW THE CROYSADC being published anew, the Landgrave secretly received the Cross, and went to meet with the Emperor in Sicily. CHAP. II.  
THe holy City of Jerusalem having been 〈◊〉 subdued & subjected to the power of the enemies of the Christian faith, for our demerits, endured the yoke of an intolerable and calamitous servitude about some 490. years at least, under diverse revolutions and mutations of states In which time, as often as things had their several vicissitudes, following the divers alterations and variety of the times, so often had this City changed their Lords. According to whose government and disposition, it received sometimes joyful, and sometimes sad alterations of fortunes, not unlike to the accesses of a burning fever in a sick man, without ever being able wholly to recover itself, and a perfect state of health, until the first publication of the Croysado aforesaid: when through the instigation of Peter the Hermit, and the glorious achievements of Godfrey of Boulogne; It was conquered and recovered from them: though relapsed afterwards for the sins of the people into the state as before.  
And this was that, which moved the Vicar of Christ, and Pastor of the universal Church at this time; considering the chosen people of God, to be now come Slaves to the Turkish y●…ake, & the royal priesthood and the holy City of God, the Princess of Provinces, to be subject to those servile tributes, to promulgate a third time the said Croysado for the redemption of that City and to vindicate the sacred pledge of the Sepulchre of Christ, from the Infidel power. For what Christian hart could endure the holy places whereon the feet of our Saviour jesus Christ, so familiarly had trod, & which have so plentifully been died with his precious blood, should so impiously be profaned and polluted by those miscreants, that tyrannically held them by strong hand. Who is he that considering these things would not melt into tears! Who is he, that considering these things would not melt into tears? Who is he whose hart would not pine and languish quite, reducing these things to memory? Who is he, that would not be moved to hazard his life to enfranchize his brethren enthralled in so cruel a captivity.  
Whereupon it being now three years since the Prince returned from Apulia, by the Pope's decree, the Cross began to be preached again, throughout all Christendom against the professed enemies of Christ: and the Christian name, who h●…ld the captive Jerusalem in their possession with all the Countries adjoining thereto, commonly called the Holy Land. This same besides other summons used and confederations, laboured with the greater Lords, both Princes and Bishops, alured the noble Landgrave and Prince of Thuringia, as I said, to prepare himself for this expedition of the Holy Land, and to show himself as forward as any, to receive the Cross from the Bishop Heldesam, which he fixed on his habit: The only care he had, was to conceal it from his Wife for a time, that he might not grieve her too suddenly, or make her languish for sorrow any time before his voyage, being privy to the great affection she bore unto him.  
But alas, the Cross thus concealed, notwithstanding all the diligences used that possibly could be, to keep the secret from her. Elizabeth ere long came privily to the knowledge thereof, while according to custom she searched the Prince's purse, to find some money to give unto the poor, presuming on the general leave and liberty afforded her in all such occasions. Whereupon though she loved the Cross very well, yet was she never so troubled at the sight thereof, as she was at this tyme. For being quick of apprehension, & understanding of the publishing of the foresaid Croysado, with the known zeal and valour of her Hushand: she soon concluded against herself. When you might have seen a notable conflict of sundry passions, now of love, now of fear, by interchanges of white and red, to appear in her countenance. One while the absence of his dearest personage seemed to wound her hart; increased with the fear of seeing him no more? Oh what a knife was this to her gentle breast? Then again, she would call to mind, the nobleness of the enterprise itself; the honour that would redound to God thereby, and profit to the Church. Considering which, at last she yielded; for what was she, whose private interests should poise withal these high and honourable respects, and especially with the greater glory and service of God.  
With this she stood as it were like a Satue, when behold the Prince suspecting nothing, and entering in, as he was wont perceived how the matter went, and not being able to hold any longer, most loving and cheerfully spoke thus unto her, taking her by the hand. How fares it with my Sister now. What a la mort? And is it even so? You were not wont to look so sadly; those clouds used not to shadow the serenity of your face. Something dear Sister is amiss. Oh what disaster I pray hath obscured the cheerfulness of that brow wont to entertain me with a gracious smile at my entering. Oh speak dear Sister, and put me out of pain. Whereto Elizabeth answered. You must pardon me Dear Lord and my loving Brother: if I be not now as yesterday, or as I have formerly been since I am of flesh and blood and subject to the sense and passions thereof; Whereas were I otherwise, or wholly spiritual you might well expert so even a tenor of mind and countenance as you speak of. Alas (good Brother) how should I be otherwise, when I am to lose the staff of my estate, the comfort of my hart, the apple of mine eye, the moiety of myself, even my second self. How can I choose but be heavy at all these disasters surprising me at once, how can I choose but be sensible of the Cross which you have taken on your shoulders. Whereto the Prince replied, the truth is dear Sister I have taken up the Cross you speak of, which our Redeemer hath laid upon me. Would you not have me to correspond with his service. The Temple of our Lord God from whence jesus Christ, being jealous of his honour and moved with divine zeal, drove away the profane Merchants, not suffering the house of his Father, to become a den of Beasts, or retreat of thieves, is now unfortunately made a hell of infernal inhabitants. The City of the king of kings, which to others hath given rules of true faith, is now at this present extremity outraged and constrained to serve the superstitions of the Gentiles. And would you not have me set my hand to the redemption of these places? I know you would, your zeal to God's honour, I assure myself, will not permit you to envy him the same, nor your charity and love to his flock, suffer you to bar them the succour: and therefore dear Sister let me entreat you to ●…esigne yourself in this, to the especial ordination of God. No my dear Lord, (said she) may it please you to know, I am not troubled at your voyage or enterprise so much for any thing as that my sex and condition will not permit me to accompany you thither, since I assure you, if my blood and life would excuse the whole voyage, for my Saviour and my neighbour's sake, I should freely and easily lay down the same; but consider I am a Woman of flesh & blood, and no senseless image, or a mere spirit devoid of passions and affections, and therefore pardon my infirmity herein, while in the Superior I am wholly resigned to that which is yours, and the will of God. And so she dried up her eyes, and from that time forward, gave herself to prepare for the voyage, as she had been to have gone herself.  
Till at last, things now being put in a readiness, the complete armour prepared for his own person, his Esquiers, and Estat●…sions appointed and ordained, his steeds bravely caparisoned, his Sumpters & all things now in goodly equipage. Rodulph the Prince's Cu●…bearer who had the office assigned him comes into the room unto the Princely couple, and tells them, it was now time to take their leave of each other, since his Marshal troops expected his coming, and were ready to march to the rendezvous. The good Elizabeth notwithstanding, would go along with her dearest Spouse on the way, not willing to leave his company, till of force she must, so long then as they were in their own Territoryes, she accompanied him till they arrived to the confines thereof, when it was not fit, she should pass any further.  
They are now then come to the place assigned▪ when behold no tongue tan possibly express, the amorous, and dolorous significations of the chaste Spouses in their last adieu: such Spouses as the world had not a better pair, if we regard the piety of their minds, the purety of their hearts, the integrity of their bodies, inviolably kept for each other, in that honourable state: besides the conjugal unity between them which is even the very happiness thereof, wherein these things are truly found, as with them it was in the greatest punctuallytie that might be, as appears by those special and mutual appellations of of Brother and Sister, which passed between them. For now were words of no use with them, nor could express a last adieu; the eyes with tears were fain to supply that office, and shaking the hands to each other a far of, was all they could do. While the noise of fi●…e, drum, and trumpets with other warlike instruments, had made the tongue unprofitable in that Ceremony.  
Elizabeth returning home with her sad company, for lo they were all touched very deeply with the sorrow of this so loath depart of these true Lovers: like an other judith, she lays aside, the attires of her glory and magnificence, and took to herself 〈◊〉 Widow habit she was wont to wear in her husband's absence, and for as much as she was now more desolate than ever, as having, as she thought, much more cause of discomforts than she had at any time before, she addicted herself to a greater retiredness, acting as it were her Widow's part before her time, in outward show. But for the interior, she was now more free than ever, to attend to her spiritual Spouse. For never any one I think, so mingled two such seeming contrary loves as th●…se, with better harmony and temper than she; so as her heavenly Spouse had no cause to envy the others part, nor her earthly one, to say she was too religious & altogether unapt for the Wedlock state. Because indeed she knew right well what it was to love God above all things, with all her hart, and with all her powers, and the Neighbour as herself, her parents with the love due unto Parents, her Children with that belonged to them, and lastly her husband with a love transcending all other earthly love, but far inferior to that of God.   

THE ARRIVAL OF THE Landgrave in Sicily, where the Emperor was: his Death, and the Lamentation made by Elizabeth for him. CHAP. III.  
Such is the inconstancy and mutability of earthly things; so various are the adventures of this life, and so diverse the events of humane actions, as nothing seems more constant, than a kind of inconstancy in all things, nothing more steady than a perpetual unsteedynes and mutability of fortunes: and finally, nothing fuller of Varieties, and viciscitudes then is the life of this glorious Princess, the sport of fortune, a Scene of interludes, a tragedy full of sad Catastrophes, in a word a pattern of all patience, exposed on the spacious Theatre of the world. For she being now settled in her vidual way; a course which gave her extreme contentment wherein she might with fuller scope attend to the affairs of her soul: Posts continually pass to and fro, still certifying her of the safe arrival, and good health of her Lord the renowned Landgrave in Sicily, with the great expectation the world had of him, and how the voice went, he was to be the General of all the Christian forces, in that great expedition: a thing suitable to his zeal of God's honour, and his heroical hart, matched with a singular prudence in him, and dispose fit for so great a manage, by whom likewise she particulary understood of the great entertainment made him by the Emperor Frederick: and how for the present they were busied with settling of affairs in those parts in visiting of Forts, Castles, and cities for the greater security of Christendom, with a thousand other things of good importance and of much consolation to her in her Spouses absence. She heard withal, that the Prince would happily find the leisure to visit her yet before the voyage to the Holy Land could be wholly prepared. The Posts still brought nothing but comforts to Elizabeth insatiable to hear from him, over joyed with the hope to see him ere long.  
But fortune, or rather divine Ordination, so disposing when the Prince now tho●…ght to have taken his leave of the Emperor, to return to his Country for dispatch of same particular affairs, which pressed him much; Tidings was brought, that the Sultan the professed enemy was in readiness to make some notable attempt upon the Christians. The news amazed them much, and doubtesse had not the Prince's valour and expectation reared their hopes, their hearts had failed. So as now it was necessary the Prince should stay, and his return was grown impossible Wherefore taking pen and ink in hand, instead of going himself in person, he was fain to write to his dearest Elizabeth, his true and unfeigned excuse in these words.  
Dear Sister, by this you may read how poor a thing Man is: he often determines this or that, but God disposeth all things: I had my foot even ready in the stirrup, to have seen th●…e once more, according to my purpose in my last. But behold the face of things is altered, through the hot unexpected charging of the Enemy on our frontiers; and we who at ley sure had thought to have found him out to confront him, are now enforced to provide for ourselves to repel him: We must needs therefore suddenly make head, and hasten sooner than we thought, commending the whole enterprise to thy prayers, and especially my life and person, that we return victorious and triumphant over the enemies of the Christian Name, and I may see and enjoy thee once more, howsoever I trust that I have so provided for thee, as whatsoever become of me, thou shalt be able to live of thyself, and that if I die thou wilt be mindful of my soul, so as at least we may happily meet in heaven. Till when I bid thee adieu. And so putting to his wont subscription, he sealed it up in all haste, dispatching the Post as soon as might be.  
These last words were as certain presages of what immediately followed; For af●…er he had laboured much to animate the army disconsolate and dismayed with the former news, spending his spirits too prodigally, fell into a Calentura or malignant f●…auer, and being youthful and full of blood, the malignity of ●…he malady increasing, his life was utterly despaired; and finally receiving the Sacraments, of the Patriarch of Jerusalem, he gave up his happy spirit on the eleventh of September.  
It can not be told what expressions of mourning there was through the whole Camp, and but for that the Body was to be conveyed by his Friends into Thuringia, never general had been more honourably interred by the Emperor and the Army, than he: how soever they spared it not, in a marshal manner to condole with his Hearse, so long as they had him present in that sort. When the News of this untimely death was brought unto Thuringia, the former Post was permitted to deliver his letters from the Prince unto the Dutchese his Spouse, written with his own hand, immediately before his infirmity, which they all supposed would be a good disposition to prepare her against the last encounter, that should be given her of his certain departure out of this world; which she read and took as discreetly as was to be expected From her; But then all the care was taken that possibly could be, how to break the latter tidings unto her, Whom they knew to be so tender and affectionate to her Lord.  
Wherefore by common consent of the Peers of the Land and Council of Estate; it was resolved the old Duchess Sophia, the Prince his Mo●…her, should warily and discreetly acquaint her with it: For they verily feared, that if she came to the knowledge thereof by any other ways abruptly and of a sudden, some great inconueniencies at least, would ensue thereof. Sophia for the present, like a wise and discreet Matron, having as well as she might digested her proper sorrow, for the loss of so hopeful a Prince her son, taken her fairest occasion, and the best opportunity she could, as is were, upon an ordinary Visit, went to see her at her Castle, where she lived a Vyduall and retired life in the absence of her Husband, having lately read and received the last Tidings as she took it, from her never sufficiently honour Spouse and Lord; And having saluted her according to custom; she cheerfully spoke to her in this sort.  
Madam I he●…re you have heard from m●… son●…e your husband; if so; how fares he I pray? ●…ul well I hope (said she) And so do I, quoth the Duchess strait. Why Madam, answered Elizabeth: and is he so soon taken prisoner, and his person in safety, if it be so, Lady Mother, by God's grace and the bounty of his friends, he shall soon be ransomed again. He is taken indeed Dear Daughter, (replied she again,) not as you imagine, Captived by his enem●…es, but led in triumph by the hands of Angels, to the heavenly Jerusalem; so happy an issue his voyage hath had, as that instead of a terren and earthly land, but Holy in name only and mere denomination; he ha●…h made a conquest of the heavenly Country, the celestial Jerusalem, the true Holy land indeed.  
Whereat the Princess was truly pierced through the heart with the sorrow of Sorrow, and wring her woeful hands, wept most bitterly, till recovering herself again, she said: And if my Brother be dead, I here do promise hence forth to dye to myself, and to the world, with all its vanit●…es. So great and intense her sorrow was, and so deep sighs and sobs she fetched from the centre of her heart, as there was none able to comfort her, they being all now likewise nigh dro●…vne in tears, as well as she, to behold her mourning. And the calamity w●…ich but now seemed universal, ●…or the loss of a Prince, a Pat●…on, and a common Father of his Country; in a moment is turned into a private condolement, and tender compassion on a desolate Princess.  
Thus alas, the doleful Widow was assailed with the batteries of a hard disaster▪ whic●… ha●… been able to have made her onstant mind to have surrendered to impa●…ience, had not the Citadel of her heart been well fortified before hand with most noble and heroical resolutions and well practised with the mortifications of self-love and her proper interest, and above all prevented with peculiar favours from heaven, the Holy Ghost revealing to her what crosses and tribulations she was to suffer hereafter; and how this was but only a Praeludium of the rest: and therefore it behoved her to buckle herself for them, and to be armed with the complete harness of Fortitude against the volleys of misfortunes which our Lord would send her, for her greater Crown, according to the measure of her patience. From which time, the Ro●…all Princess offered herself to suffer whatsoever fortune, or to say better, the execution of the divine Will, could any ways pour upon her. Thus it pleased the Almighty to comfort his poor distressed Servant in the midst of her greater calamities. Whereby she was now grown a Lioness, as it were, even daring fortune herself to do her worst.   

HOW HENRY BROTHER to the deceased Lan●…graue usurped the Dukedom: and ejected Elizabeth and her Children from all their▪ right. CHAP. FOUR  
ALthough the affections and i'll dispositions, yea the rancour and envy of the friends and kindred of the deceased Prince Lewes, and of all the Nobles and Peers of that state, had been ever poisonous and malicious, and were grown inveterate in them, against the royal and most virtuous Princess Elizabeth, yet during the Lantgraves' life, they were but raked up, as fire in the ashes, nor ever durst they so much as let them appear, for the extraordinary love and respect the Prince did bear to Elizabeth. But he was no sooner departed this transito●…y life beyond all expectation, being yet in the flower of his youth; but the fire of their indignation, rancour, and ●…nuy, against the innocent Lady broke forth, and now they all beg●…nne mainly to oppose & to set themselves against her. To this was add a greedy, and most unsatiable appetite, and thirst of rule, in Henry the Brother of Lewis, egged and set on by the wicked and malevolous ●…action, diametrically opposite to the weal and prosperity of the desolate Widow and her princely issue. Who ruling; they thought they should not be able to bear such sway in the government as they ambitiously desired. There wanted not reasons to advance the business, alleging that Herman the undoubted heir was yet an Infant, and the Mother Regent unfit for government. The state stood in need of an able Governor for years' discretion, and mature judgement. That Henry was amply endowed with all these, & the nearest of blood, and consequently by all reason he should mount into the Throne, at least till the Infant were come to perfect, age to be able to sway the sceptre himself. Besides, that he was apt for chiual●…y, and well trained in arms, whereby he might be able to defend his Country at least, if not to augment and propagate the same, and was every way a complete Prince to comply with the government, and to give contentment to al.  
They laboured so effectually in the business, as what with their reasons, and other more powerful means which they wrought, they brought it to pass: and Henry was invested with the Princely robes, and adorned with the marks of the Signory of that state, and proclaimed Governor of Turingia. Being then thus established in the government: the first thing he did, of consequence after the same, to give the World more plainly to understand, the i'll affection he had towards the Princess Elizabeth and her issue, and to do a thing most grateful as he took it, to his complices and abetters who had promoted him ●…o it, was to expel her from her Castle or Palace, where she innocently lived a private and retired life, by reason of mourning for her Princely and loyal husband, with all her maids and Damozells about her, without any furniture, provision, or necessaries to live, and to maintain her family, or so much as food to sustain nature with, commanding beside, all those of the village by, that none should harbour or receive her into their houses, to the end, the Subjects beholding her reduced to that miserable estate, might never intermeddle or once go about to restore her again into her principality, unjustly usurped by him, or to vindicate the Infant's wrongs, who by all good men, were held most tyrannically and injuriously dealt with.  
But then, what did Elizabeth the while, the noble Imitatresse of the Apostles, deserving well the purple of Martyrs? She bore herself with an incredible and most prodigious patience, far transcending the power of nature, wholly heavenly and above all nature. For in her hart was no revenge so much as imagined, much less intended or harboured; in her mouth no word of impatience, or any interjection that might any ways seem to express the same; for how could it be, where there was no spleen? And for her outward gestures they were all so composed, as she had been in the greatest tranquillity that might be.  
She murmured not, she complained not, for being so injuriously put forth of her chamber, and Royal bed, to seek her lodging on bare boards against all reason and justice. But rather inwardly rejoiced to see herself, so ill entreated and so little respected, for that in truth her whole hart and confidence was placed in God, and so went she away, saying with Bias the heathen Philosopher: Lo, I carry what soever I have along with me. She carried indeed no transitory things of this world about her, but others much better, and not on her back, but all in her mind, which could not be usurped or taken from her.  
Being thus driven out of her own house, she went to the town in the bottom of the Castle hill, where she entered in with her Maids that were with her into a common Inn; some say into the cottage of a poor woman, where she remained till midnight, when the Friars of S. Francis, began to ring to Ma●…tins, and then went to the Monastery, at that hour of the night, and finding the doors open, entered into the Church, where she humbly besought the Friars they would please to sing Te Deum with much solemnity for her, in token how joyous and full of consolation she was in herself for this first encounter of fortune Comforting herself with that of the Apostle writing to the Romans, where he said. He comforted himself and gloryed in his tribulations, and gave infinite thanks to God for them. From that time forward she edeavoured by all means possible to procure herself a room or lodging of her own, where she might freely live by herself, and not depend of others. But those of the town for fear of Henry and his Complices, durst not afford her any, so much as the meanest Hovel, and therefore she was fain for want of a hole to put her head in, to remain in the Church of the fore said Monastery all that day following unto the Evening; which being come, her grief, and affliction was augmented the more, for that Henry her Brother in Law, to be more free in the government of the State, cast forth of the Castle also the Infant Herman, Heir apparent, with his two little Sisters, whom now she beholds to descend down the hill, to come to their Mother, in the Monastery where she was, for as yet she had no other dwelling, but the Church porch, whom notwithstanding she received with a magnanimous & undaunted courage, though otherwise she could not choose but tenderly weep to see those Innocents' so insensible of their estate, as to smile upon her, amidst their greatest disasters, rejoicing no doubt to have so recovered their Mother, whose little absence the while, had been a bitter pill unto them. Ah little Babes (she said) little do you know the wretched state you are in, and where to lodge you (alas) this night, I know not; poor hearts where are your delicate and soft Couches, where are now your attendants. Nay where is any meat to put into your mouths? The Foxes have holes to harbour in, the Birds have plumage of their own to keep them warm, and when their young lie gaping in their nests for food, their dam is at hand to afford it them, your only little Infants more unhappy in this, than Birds and Beasts, have not a morsel to put into your mouths, and yet you smile upon me, and soon I fear will cry as fast, when I have it not to give you.  
Whereupon to lodge and repose her Children, she repaired to the house of a certain Clerk, who poorly entertained her in a room, without hangings, money, or furniture, or any thing to eat. Where she remained for certain days most incommodiously, and in great misery; partly through the straightness of the place, for her whole family, and partly also through the great penury of all things there, for the susteynance of man. After that she removed herself into greater and more ample rooms, to be able to accommodate her children and family the better. But there she remained not long, but soon she found out that one commodity of a larger room, did bring a thousand discommodities with it: for the Owner of the house and the inhabitants there, were so cross and peevish to her, as she could find no rest amongst them but infinite vexations of every side. Wherefore having no other helps in that place, but what the bare walls were able to afford her, departing thence and bidding them farewel, which had somewhat defended her and hers from the asperityes of the Winter, for it was at that time, using these speeches to the bare walls. I thank you Walls most heartily, for the harbour you have given me this while, and would have been glad to have yielded as much to the Inhabitants, had they been as civil; And so not able to find any other lodging in the whole Town; she betook herself to her former cottage or little ease.  
Thus this great Lady and Princess Elizabeth in a moment as it were, cast down from the throne of eminent dignity into the Abyss of temporal miseries, and she, who the other day harboured thousands of poor, now poor herself, could find no entertainment or harbour any where: She that cherished Infants and Orphans, was glad herself to beg for hers, and to crave an Alms from door to door, and seek to her Enemies themselves. Oh instability of human things! and which is yet more admirable, who could discern in all this while any least sign of pusillanimity in her, any least wonder, or murmur against God or his holy Ordination to proceed, but rather perpetual blessings and benedictions to flow from her; saying ever. Blessed be the Name of God; and with holy job: Our Lord hath given, and our Lord hath taken away: and a thousand other iaculatoryes beside, which she how rely sent up to heaven.  
While Elizabeth was yet in this distress, there happened a thing to her which I may not let pass. She going one day alone by herself upon some occasion or other, and being by the way to cross over a certain dirty or myery Lane, where was no passage, but upon stumps and stones, placed for steps here and there for the purpose, and the good Lady, standing with herself in a study how she should do to pass over, having no staff to sustain herself withal, in case her hart should fail in the way, nor practised in this kind, having ever been carried till then, in coaches and litters. Behold who should she see on the other side, but a certain old woman whom she knew very well, being one, whom she had in her better fortunes exceedingly favoured with many extraordinary benefits: this woman likewise, as she imagined, stood still on the other side, as pausing with herself what to do. Wherefore they both stood awhile immoveable as pinching courtesy who should first pass over. The Lady thought for respect sake she had forborn, or through gratitude for former courtesies; but she like a Monster in nature, purposed a worse matter. For the Lady not to stand over long upon such ceremonies adventuring first, being now in the midst of the steps trembling as she went for fear of falling, the other more practised in such ways, sustaining herself with a staff in her hand, met her in the midst, and thrust her down into the dirt, and having so done, went her ways, jeering and laughing at her. Ah monstrous impiety to deal so with an innocent Lady, in the extremity of her miseries! The holy Elizabeth came forth of the dirt in so fowl a plight as you may guess: and having wiped herself as well as she might, went on her ways, and took the injury so patiently, as she returned not the least word of discontent thereat, but inwardly smiled with the excessive joy she felt, to see herself so basely affronted without cause, which she offered up in union with all the indignities her Saviour suffered at the hands of the Romans & jews in the house of Annas, Cayphas, Pilate, and Herod; and for this act, she received of her Spouse incredible favours, as shall immediately appear.   

THE ESPECIAL FAVOURS, and sweet consolations from God, which Elizabeth had in hearing of Mass, and otherwise. CHAP. V.  
THe more Elizabeth suffered the bitter storms of the Sea of this world, the greater were the favours she interiorly received from God. It happened then that Elizabeth in the holy time of Lent, according to her ordinary devotion hearing Mass religiously on her knees, considering the inestimable price, of that most dreadful and heavenly Sacrifice, and feeling her hart by little & little inflamed with fervent meditations on that subject fell into this prolix Colloquy, as followeth. O then let me love thee my dear Spouse, may I covet thee, desire thee, thirst and hunga●… after thee; may I taste, eat, and drink thee. Osweetenes of love, O love of sweetness; let my soul feed upon thee, and my bowels be replenished with the sweet liquor of thy love, that my hart may be inebriated therewith. Oh Charity, my God, sweet honey! most sweet milk! most delicious food! Oh sweetness! and suavity of my will, my Love, and the desire of my hart! Why am I not wholly inflamed! wholly burned with the fire of thy Love? Why am I not all and wholly transformed into thee through Love? So as in me there may be nothing else but Love! O divine fire! O heat, O fire! Why am I not wholly converted into thy Love? Why is there ought else in me then Love? Why am I not wholly entrhalled with Love? Let thy charity burn in my hart: let thy Love kindle and flame in my soul! here now with a smiling countenance she cries out. O joy! O pleasure! O solace! Oh my comfort! O my jubiley! enlarge me in thy Love, that I may learn in all my interior affairs, to taste how sweet a thing it is to love, to liquify; and swim in thy Love.. Let me sing to thee the Canticles of Love! O good love, that lovest most perfectly! O increated Love! O divine Love! O divine charity! O embowelled dilection! O wholly amiable! O wholly desirable! O most blessed light, fill the most intimous part of my soul and enkindle the fire of thy consuming Love in me, that in me may nothing remain but thee, With that, she pawses awhile, and then breaks forth again, as followeth. Ah, Ah, Ah, my Lord God. Be thou to me, and I to thee. Oh what is this my Lord God, my love, my Saint? Thou all mine, and I all thine: Let me love thee my God and my Lord above all things, and more than myself, and let me not love myself but for thee, and all in thee. Let me love thee with all my soul, let me love thee with all my memory, let me love thee with all my power and forces, with a most straight, fervent, and sovereign love, with a love, not familiar to all. I will not rest most blessed Divinity, and one most loving God, and surely I shall never rest, till I love thee with a most burning Love.. O let me enjoy thee, Let me enjoy thee. O most blessed Trinity, one God, let me enjoy thee.  
Having said all this within herself, because she was in the open Church, moving but her lips only, as Anna did when she begged Samuel at the hands of God, which proved a Prophet, & consequently Seeing God, as all Prophets are said to do; she obtained very special graces, and the vision of strange and mysterious things. For lo, she was suddenly rapt into an ecstasy, elevating and raising her soul and understanding so up to heaven, as she seemed to be kneeling, fixed in the place, without judgement, or operation of the senses, with eyes notwithstanding as glued to the Altar. Till at last returning to herself again; Isentrude her dearest and most faithful servant, being confident of her love and respect towards her; presumed so far as to press her much, after many refusals, to declare unto her, what she had seen, while she was so rapt, and alienated in her senses, with her eyes fastened on the Altar. To whom at last she answered, and said. O daughter, I may not make any mortal wight privy to those heavenly secrets which I saw. But this I tell thee, since thou urgest me, and coniurest me of all loves; that I was replenished with wonderful and unspeakable joy, beholding with the eyes of my mind such heavenly mysteries: and this is all good Isentrude, I can say unto thee in this matter.  
Isentrude was forced to rest satisfied with this answer, though her much curiosity, could hardly brook the denial, so curious are mortals of immortal secrets: But resolved if ever the like happened again, she would be so refused no more. From thence then they returned to their poor and most pitiful lodging again. Where the holy and blessed Elizabeth, was fain to restore nature, with such poor pitance as she had, after so strange an ecstasy and alienation of mind. Which though it wrought on the soul, yet was it doubtless laborious and toil some to the body, to be so long suspended from the functions and operations of the powers thereof, they being so dear and individual companions during life. But being of a weak constitution, a little sufficed her; then after refection, she desired to be private, as willing to rest and repose herself in her Chamber with Isentrude alone. And being as I said extreme weary with the former excesses of the mind, she laid down her head on Isentrudes lap: and so began to fall asleep, and soon after to weep as she slept, and then again to smile of a sudden, showing a cheerful and serene countenance withal, as she had received extraordinary contentment at somewhat or other. Anon she would weep again, and then smile, well-nigh as soon: and those alterations and strange viciscitudes of diverse and opposite feelings, went and came all that day until the evening, yet seemed she oftener to smile then weep, and then at last she uttered these words. Yea truly my Lord so it please thee, to remain with me, I will never depart from thee, but still persevere to abide with thee for ever. When she had once expressed these words, which Isentrude directly heard and punctually observed; she awaked, nor can it be imagined how great was the desire which Isentrude had to hear the mystery, and therefore laid so strange a battery of importunities against her Lady's humble resolution, as she was forced to yield to her, and to reveal the whole passage as it was, saying in this manner. I saw the Heavens to open, and our Saviour jesus Christ, to appear unto me, and to comfort me for my travails and tribulations past, in whose presence as I stood, I was extraordinary cheerful and glad, but as sad and full of heavynes again, when he offered to depart and go away from me; whereon taking presently compassion, he immediately returned again, and at last, after many alterations in this kind, he said to me. Tell me Elizabeth, wilt thou remain with me, as I will do with thee. Whereto I answered these wotds you heard me utter even now.   

ELIZABET VISITSH her Aunt an Abbess, and then her Uncle, the Bishop of Bamberg: who plotted to have her married, but in vain. CHAP. VI  
THe fame of the calamitous state of the Princess Elizabeth, who as before was famous for Sanctity, now as remarkable for misery; contained not yt self within the bounds of the Territoryes near at hand, or the borders of Thuringia itself, but had dilated yt self to foreign and remote places. So as indeed there was nothing more in every one's mouth, than the hard disasters of so noble a Lady, some blaming her fortune, and some were carried so far into passione, as nigh to murmur at the Ordinance of God, to see so innocent a Lady, without all desert of hers, to fall so suddenly into so great an abyss of miseries, calamities, & afflictions. And others the while, for so diverse are the humours of men, spared not to traduce the innocence and religious simplicity of the admirable Lady, with the impious aspersion of foolish stupidity. For else they say, how should it be, that she being the Widow of so great a Prince, and daughter of so puissant a king, should be so injuriously entreated by Prince Henry, and the Nobles of the land, were she not altogether forlorn and destitute of friends to right her cause, she being so innocent and her wrong so patent to al. Thus divers according to their fancies shot their bolts, but few so wise and versed in spiritual things, as to hit a right, or to measure the drift or scope of the eternal Ordination herein, to dispose all to his glory and her greater crown, through the exercise of so Heroical a virtue as her invincible Patience was, in all these things.  
Save only an Aunt she had, being Sister to her Mother, and Lady Abbess of a famous Monastery in those parts, who hearing of the savage usages and proceedings with her Niece, framing a far higher conceit of her deserts, than the ordinary sort could dive into: Partly moved with the respect of blood, partly out of charity, and partly also for the rumour of her sanctity, which amidd all her adversities and contradictions more and more dilated itself, in the opinion of the best judgements, and all such indeed as were not carried away with ignorance or sinister passions. This Aunt of hers, took such order, what with her loving invitements, and what with the means she contrived to bring her to her, which wanted no difficultyes, by reason of her great necessities, that she and all her Maids, having taken in the mean time the best order for the children that might be; were brought to the Grate of the Monastery, humbly attending the good pleasure of her Aunt there ready to expect her: Where who could express the tenderness that passed between them. The Abbess was much moved in seeing her Niece so poorly clad and accommodated for all things, considering the diameter of both her fortunes. That so great a Lady, so delicate, and highly descended, should in so short a time be brought into such extremity.  
When having mutually saluted each other as became then, and fall'n upon many virtuous, spiritual, and divine discourses, they gave no place to murmurs or complaints at all: whether it were that Elizabeth was unwilling to be drawn unto them; or the Abbess not willing to renew the sores of her Niece's sorrows: The Abbess differing those matters rather to some conference more at leisure with Isentrude, whom she noted to be greatest in her Lady's favour. And having now at last well understood her cause, she knew the better how to apply comforts in the rest of her discourse with her, which she did most aptly indeed: in humouring the affect of voluntary Poverty in her, yet tempering the same with the will to recover her right again, to be able to make a larger and freer donation of what she had to the benefit of the poor, rather than by such a general renunciation, mixed with a kind of violent compassion to suffer her means so silently to remain in the hands of injurious Extortioners, greatly to the detriment of the poor, whom she desired to relieve so much; in referring the innocence of her cause to the latter day. Wherefore she advised her to repair as soon as might be to her Uncle the Bishop of Bamberg: a man of prudence, charity, and power no doubt, to restore her to her Dowry, and vidual rights: at least to provide so for her, as she might be able to maintain, that poor family of herself, Children, and Maids, being the only ambition she seemed to aim at.  
The desolate Widow was somewhat revived herewith, and yielding many thanks to her Aunt, for her grave and discreet counsels, promised immediately to put them in practice with all speed. And so taking their leaves of either part with such assistance as the Lady Abbess could give her, and very efficacious letters to the said Bishop, she went to Bamberg.  
Where being come, the Bishop was advertized thereof, who could hardly believe the same, till he saw and read the letters from his Sister her Aunt, which she sent him before she came into his presenee. The Bishop, good man, could by no means hold from weeping, at the sight and reading of them, much less when they met, which moved the hearts of all the Clergy about him, considering the strangeness and rareness of the accidents of this poor Lady. When appointing a Lodging near his palace, for her and hers, they had good commodity to meet often, and to confer of matters concerning her weal, and recovery of her dowry; and if it were possible, which he projected, and she mainly resisted, to restore her again to her estate as amply as ever. Which design of his by degrees took so great impression in him, as he not only apprehended it possible to take effect, but as it happens in such cases, held it in a manner as done already. So as noting his Niece to be young and beautiful, he began to plot with himself, how to marry her honourably, a second time, and to match her in some potent family to strengthen her cause, the more easily to purchase her right. And thereupon till he were better, and more fully resolved thereof, what Prince she might be espoused unto, and how to deal in the matter, he sent her, with her humble train to a certain Castle of his, to be accommodated with all things fit for her Calling; at lest what was necessary for her in that estate, till she might be better provided, as occasion served.  
The innocent Lady herself was nothing aware of all these plots and workings in her Uncle's head, as being a matter she lest dreamt of, so far she was from favouring it in the least, or giving any way thereunto. Howbeit her Maids some way or other, (who knows) had got some knowledge of the Bishop's intent. And being privy to their Lady's most chaste purpose, and little less than a settled Vow, and partly jealous of their own, lest their Lady's resolutions once being violated, theirs might suffer wrack, and they likewise be drawn some way or other to embrace the conjugal state, notwithstanding their Vows of Chastity; became very sad and anxious, discoursing thereof now and then solicitously among themselves, what were best for them to do to prevent the same, and whether it were not fit to prove their Lady's constancy or no, for their better satisfaction, and to give her notice of the danger she stood in; which happily she adverted not, a thing so far perhaps from her innocent apprehension.  
While they were in this deliberation with themselves. Elizabeth comes in, suspecting nothing less than that their whole discourse was touching her: but yet could easily perceive her Maids were grieved and perplexed at some what; for they all stood looking on each other, as if they had something to say to her, but were not well determined who should begin. Wherefore, to break their silence, she thus begins herself. Maidens, what is the matter with you, you are so troubled in your minds? for I discern some sudden change among you. Are we not welcome here and fairly entreated in our Uncle's house? Tell me, I say, are you not well used, hath any discourtesy been done you since your coming hither, or tell me what is the matter with you? When lo, they all stand looking on Isentrude, thereby insinuating as much, as she should speak & express their common grief & lay open to her their fears & jealousies. Which she did, presuming of the liberty & freedom she had often given her to be a faithful Admo nitresse to her.  
The truth is Madam (said she) my Sisters are all in a great perplexity about your Ladyship, lest your Uncle's royal entertainment here might have some sinister end, so far they are, from what your Ladyship misgave, of their all usage, as that from the contrary they gather a worse conclusion. Madam in a word they fear lest your Uncle intends to assault your noble resolutions of vidual chastity, and go about to plot and contrive how to violate the same by a tender of some honourable match to your Lady ship, which in reason he may think you cannot refuse, your stare and condition being such, for your present temporalities as they are. This Madam was the argument of their discourse, and these their fears, grounded on the tenderness they have of the honour of your Ladyship, and somewhat to of their own imbecilities who rest so much on the rock of your constancy Which causeless jealousies, as I suppose, I have been labouring to supplant and root out of their hearts. But one word Madam▪ from your self, will effect more than all the reasons I am able to allege against the same.  
To which Elizabeth with a cheerful and serene countenance, smiling, said. Take you no care my daughters: nor trouble yourselves any more about this matter. I trust in the divine protection for my part, that look what I promised in the life of my honoured Lord, I shall perform and accomplish punctually even after his death, likewise to the end of my life. And though it should fall out, that I were pressed by any authority or command whatsoever, or otherwise were menaced by power, or were alured with all the flatteryes of friendship whatsoever; I shall never suffer myself to be drawn from that man, whom not for man I took but for the holy Sacrament of Matrimony. Nor do I fear a whit, what force can do against me, since let them use what violence they can, yet still I shall retain entire the liberty of my free will, and shall show myself to be such a Mistress of myself, as I shall never yield consent thereto, but sooner disfigure myself for a last refuge.  
With these her resolute, and heroical words, her Maids were well satisfied, and comforted. And the Venerable Bishop who as yet had done nothing in the matter, but only revolved the thing in mind, having religiously commended the affair to God, being moved and touched by the divine spirit, let fall his designs, and desisted of himself from the enterprise, without having ever made the least intimation thereof to any. Giving order, that Elizabeth might stay there where she was, as long as she would, and be left free to dispose of herself, or go wheresoever she pleased.   

HOW THE BODY OF Prince Lewis was brought out of Sicily into Germany to be buried. CHAP. VII.  
IT hath been ever the manner of great Princes dying forth of their Count●…yes, to have their bodies transported to some honourable place or other to rest with their Ancestors in peace: and beside to be carried with great pomp in their funeral solemnities, especially men of more eminent note. Hence it was that the hopeful Prince Lewis dying in foreign parts, and in so Noble an Assembly of Princes and Lords, in company of the Emperor himself, gathered together from all parts of Christendom: I may say indeed the flower of Europe at that time; Yet the desolate Friends of the deceased Prince would by no means yield his corpse should remain behind, and that his own native Country, and natural Citizens should be deprived of his bones, whose life they had lent for the Christian Cause: and where they could not have him alive, should likewise be despoiled of so dear a pledge and precious depositum being dead. Wherefore the devotions and grateful offices of all, being now satisfied, those noble Gentlemen of the Prince his Family, who had accompanied him thither, and who in this had accomplished their promise to the letter, in following him to death: and who moreover were better than their words, in not leaving him after death: disposed themselves to order the conveying of his hearse, into their own Country in the best equipage they could.  
The body then being taken out of the tomb? wherein it lay; and the flesh consumed by such artificious means as they used, by the diligence, of the most expert therein, they took the bones and enclosed them charily, in a certain Chest, or precious Casket, and being attended for a good space by a world of Princes, Dukes, and Marquesses, and of Counts, Barons, and Knights without number, in marshal order, they went with Ensigns folded up together with a doleful and dismal sound of drums, all clothed in black, and other warlike instruments in like sort. Thus went they on in goodly order to a certain place appointed, where they were solemnly met with, by other Princes and Gentlemen of the Countries they passed through, where the Marshal troops took their leaves in warlike, wise And so went on through Villages and towns, and wheresoever they came, were freshly encountered with new companies succeeding by turns, and all with lamentable expressions of dolour for the loss of so Noble a Prince, their sorrows being renewed afresh with the presence of the Corpse.  
Thus every day they carried the body, going in manner of Procession, deposing it in some Church at night, or else in a Monastery, causing Masses, Dirges, and other suffrages to be said for his soul, offering up many Gifts and donaryes▪ to every Church, where the Offices and Rites were performed, as Tapers, Herse-cloths, and Blacks. In this goodly order they marched into Franconia, and when they arrived at Bamberg, the Bishop of that Church came forth in Procession to me●…te the Body, having giue●… order before, that all the Nobility, Knights, and Gentlemen there, should accompany the woeful Elizabeth with her desolate and truly disconsolate Train, giving in charge especially that some few of the choicer sort, should be always at hand with the sorrowful Widow to comfort and sustain her, as need should require, which they did.  
At last the Servant of God came forth with her Maids in mourning weeds, with minds more sable, and mourning far, than that colour could express, yet she bore herself most discreetly in that assembly, in bridling so the current of her tears, for the present; as every one judged, measuring the cause, the great and absolute command she had over her passions, and what she powerfully restrained in herself, they as prodigally showered forth for her sake, so as hardly besides her own, were seen, any cheeks unwatered, and some with the eyes in tears to the brim.  
But then entering with the Corpse into the Church, especially when the Hearse was uncovered, and the Casket of the bones set open to satisfy her request, the Ca●…aracts of her eyes, so violently kept in and restrained before, burst forth against her will, who ●…ayne would have moderated the same, but the great excess of her affection to the Prince, at that time got the upper hand, and cruelly tirannized her poor hart: Which the people seeing, excusing her, blamed the indiscretions of those about her, in giving such way to the opening of the shrine: but in truth, her former demeanour and temper she showed, was cause of the scope and liberty they gave her at her request.  
Which she perceiving, and showing the sovereignty she had of her passions, as before giving a check as it were to her natural propension, was presently composed and serene as if no such matter had been. And changing the key of her former dolorous expressions, into a more grateful and pleasing note; She rendered thanks to the heavenly Father, that since it had pleased his divine Majesty to dispose so of her honourable husband, to take him thus into his heavenly▪ Tabernacles, so seasonably for himself, being ready for him; though most importunely for her, and the whole world, and that she could not any longer enjoy him alive, he had vouchsafed thus to do her the favour before her death to afford her the means to kiss and embrace his honoured bones, who in so holy an enterprise had given up his life to his honour, and in his quarrel.  
The body, by reason of the greater solemnities here used, in respect of the Bishop allied, and the presence of the woeful Widow herself; made a longer abode there then in any other station on the way. Whereby the Princess Elizabeth, had good leisure to condole with the Lords who came out of Sicily with the body, and they wither. When after a competent time afforded them, for sad repetitions of old matters, such as dolorous Widows are apt to find out concerning the sickness, of her honoured Lord, the manners, and how he died, what mention he made of her, and his children, and a thousand the like, and especially of his last words; in which questions they satisfied her to the full, but with a thousand interruptions the while to put her off, for fear of aggravating and renewing her grief. At last when she saw they were willing no longer to maintain th●…t discourse with her, wihch by her good will she would never have ended; She craved their patience to hear the narration of her own story, since the death of her deceased Lord: unfolding to them without any acerbity of speech, that it had pleased God for her sins to dispossess her of her estate, being by her adversary's turned out of doors, and v●…terly stripped and despoiled of all she had, so that she, her children, and Maids, were forced to beg: till it pleased the honourable Abb●…sse her Aunt, and her Uncle the Venerable Bishop of this place, to send for her, and to accommodate her as they found her.  
While the Lady continued her discourse, and before she could fully finish her sad narration, and close up the tragical Catastrophe, the Noble Gentlemen, being now already inflamed with choler, and with high indignation against the Prince and his adherents, had instantly vowed the ruin of her Adversaries, had not the Princess herself, fearing some great disaster might follow thereof mitigated their furies, especially against the Prince her Brother in Law, by laying the fault of all to his wicked Counsellors, whom she pretended not to know, or at least would not discover to them, for fear of further inconveniences; and finally excused the Prince with greenness of years, and too great a facility to be carried away with sinister Counsels, most opposite as she said to his own swe●…ter disposition: signifying to them that all what she required, and the end why she made her complaint to them, was but only that they would please to let him see his own error in a sweet manner, and as faithful Counsellors in deed to possess him with sager and more wholesome advice, affirming she doubted not, but the Prince hearing it from their mouths, would give ear unto it, and from a Lion become a Lamb like himself, for she could not be otherwise persuaded of his good disposition.  
The Lords by this time, were grown more temperate, being sweetly pacified with the reasons and fair demeanours of the Lady; admiring her Patience and heroical Virtues, especially in so easy pardoning her professed enemies, and those who had done her such open wrongs, wherein rather she showed herself an evangelical follower of Christ, than a secular Princess descended from the loins of Kings, and earthly Monarch, more apt for revenge then pardoning injuries. And thereupon they agreed among themselves at their arrival in Turingi●…, to treat with the Prince in a gentle, and mild manner, but yet fully, and wholly give him to understand his own errors, and cruel dealings. And so satisfying the Princess herewith, they went on with the honourable pledge as before, with the greatest pomp, and solemnity that might be.   

HOW THE NOBLEMEN expostulate with Prince Henry, and obtain what they desire, and what Elizabeth did there upon. CHAP. VIII.  
THE body of Prince Lewis, after many a tedious journey, and much difficulty vanquished: was at last brought to Thuringia, and there, with magnificent funeral pomps, very solemnly buried, by the Gentry, and Commons of the land, not without very lively expressions of much dolour, and extraordinary sense, and feeling of the Nobility, especially of the best affected to the former government, and wholly misliking the present state of things, together with the universal condolement of all the said Clergy, and Commons, and generally of all good men, and above all of the poor; who in his death having lost a common Parent, and particularly by the despoliation of Elizabeth goods occasioned thereby, had been left to the mercy of extreme Necessity, made a lamentable complaint through the whole City, and Country thereabouts, deploring their miserable and wretched state, and not sparing in the bitterness of their anguishes to let fall murmurs, and bitter words against the new Prince, and his merciless dealing with Elizabeth their tender Mother.  
Whereupon the B●…rons and Knights aforesaid and some other of the chiefest note amongst them with one accord assembled themselves in a mild and peaceable manner, to negotiate with the Prince touching the common aggreevance of all, through his unjust usurpation of the Princess Elizabeth's right, and that of her Children; and especially for his inhuman and savage proceedings with her, against all right; equity, and Laws, both humane and divine. The principal amongst these friends of Elizabeth, were Rodolph, Ludolph, Haruing, and Gualther: who finding a fair occasion and opportunity, went confidently to the Prince, where Rodolph as the chiefest of them, and the best spoken, after the accustomed salutations used, said thus unto him.  
May it please your Excellence, what sinister same is this, which since our arrival hither, hath landed in our ears. Are these the courtesies and thanks you yield to your deceased Brother, that most renowned Prince of happy memory; so to thrust his Spouse and most innocent Children out of all, and force them to go from door to door? Oh unhappy man, a blot & dishonour to your house, to commit so fowl a fact: (I say) so fowl, which so long as you live shall live, with you, and after your death shall be an endless and perpetual obloquy to you, and even wound your conscience for ever as well in this world as in the next. Do you begin thus young so injuriously to Violate all Laws, both Civil, Moral, and Natural, and particularly the Laws of Christian Charity, and common hospitality? Tell me I pray by the immortal God who sees and beholds all things: what could a silly Woman full of peace and piety offend you, that so against all justice and right of Nature, without any cause at all, you should thrust her out of all her Goods, and not contented therewith, deal so inhumanely with those Princely Innocents', as to engage them also, so young, and tender, in the like calamities with her. Whereas if had you no bowels of Mercy, towards your own blood, yet might you at least have had some compassion on the tenderness of their years, unmeet as yet to suffer such injuries.  
But yet (Sir) thus much I must confess, I understand that you yourself are not altogether in the fault, whom we know to have been bred and endued with a milder, and more generous disposition, but rather the lewd, and ungodly Council about you, who having impiously abandoned all piety and goodness, have laboured to entangle you likewise in their wickedness, and seeking to make you degenerate from your own blood, have first endeavoured to despoil you of all feeling of common sense. Pardon me I pray, most noble Prince, if I speak with more vehemency, and boldness than becomes me: for I cannot flatter nor soothe up Princes in their humours, but must sweetly put them in mind of their duties when they seem to swerve; and tax and uprayd the vices which I note in others. You have been hitherto abused with the venomous persuasions of the malevolous: Now follow my council then, and correspond with the Votes and desires of all these Gentlemen here, who wish the increase of your honour, and reputation. Put Elizabeth entirely into her state, and dignity again, and I will undertake she shall be reconciled unto you, and return to the ancient friendship again with you, as no such thing had ever been, and such capitulations, and conditions shall be had between you, as greatly shall redound to your honour, and the greater profit and advancement of all yours.  
Thus spoke the stout and valorous Champion of Elizabeth, as ready to enter into the marshal lists in her behalf, as to plead so like an Advocate her cause, in whom was no less fortitude and magnanimity to go through an enterprise, than sagacity and discretion to contrive the same. His valour and hear of courage, made him not precipitous a whit to attempt any thing unadvisedly, but gave him force and vigour to achieve what soever he had sagely premeditated before. He was no less rich and potent, then stout and prudent: all which so concurring in one man, gave a powerful and efficacious energy to his speech. Wherefore the Prince, besides the pregnant and convincing reasons he gave, being moved not a little with the authority of the man; relented somewhat, and anon surrendered the Citadel of his hart, wholly into the power and disposition of the Baron: the rest of the Lords rejoicing the while, to behold so great a change and alteration in him. For his eyes now standing all in tears, his lips being full of lenitives and sugared words, he now desired nothing more than to have his hands appeate as effectual in works. And therefore immediately offered to Elizabeth, not only her proper demeans of Dowry and other vidual rights belonging to her, but even likewise the government of the state as she had before.  
These news were almost as soon brought to the ears of the virtuous Elizabeth, as uttered from the mouth of the Prince, so joyful they were all, to hear them so ingenuously to proceed from so frank and liberal a hart. Only Elizabeth when she heard the same, most candidly answered, she would by no means yield her assent to take the government of Thuringia upon her, or to charge her weak shoulders with so insupportable a burden; and that if it pleased the Prince to restore her dowry again and other rights belonging to it, it was all she desired, that she might use them for her own salvation, and the behoof and benefit of her hushands soul: and as for the government she regarded it not, but left it wholly to their dispose.  
Hereupon they carried her with a great train into her ancient Castle again, where she lived before, and whence she had been injuriously expelled. And Henry thenceforth regarded her as a great Lady and Princess, desiring obsequiously as it were in all things to accomplish what she required; she no sooner intimated her pleasure in any thing, but he was ready to see it executed to the full, and especially he besought her at least, to use the marks, and ornaments in use with Princesses like herself. Who would have thought now but this Lady would have taken some complacence at this happy return into her own again, and howbeit to be eased of the burden of the government she might refuse indeed the charge; yet for the rest which she well, and lawfully might enjoy without damage, and prejudice of her religious purposes, to leave so merely for the love of Poverty was an act indeed of heroical fortitude.  
For lo the Seruamt of God, remaining thus for some days in her said Palace, re-installed and re-invested again in all that belonged thereto, fearing least perhaps through abundance of all dainties, delicious fare, pomp, attendancyes, and worldly glory, wherewith she was now entreated, she might come to lose in a moment the divine grace, wherewith she had hitherto been copiously endued, she refused wholly those special cherishments they gave her, and freely and voluntarily left that delicious and dainty life, and immediately betook herself, to an humble Cottage thereby, with intention to live and persevere in that manner of life now of her own election, which of force heretofore she was fain to lead: and this for the love of her Saviour JESUS CHRIST her heavenly Spouse.   

HOW THE POPE took notice of Elizabeth's Sanctity, and received her into his protection: and how she made her profession of the Third Order of Saint Francis. CHAP. IX.  
AS the wisdom of this world, is a mere folly in the sight of God, and his blessed Angels and Saints in heaven: soe●…rue wisdom to sensual men is indeed, a rock of scandal, and block for every one to humble at; they make a wonder of all those things which they cannot understand, because they being carnal and sensually given, perceive not the things which are of God. Hence it is, that Elizabeth embracing the folly of the Cross, as worldlings account of it, was not only condemned by her ancient ill Willers, for superstitious, hippocriticall, and a mere dissembler; but even her best friends, and such as hitherto had stood most for her, began to disesteem her by little and little, till she lost them quite, holding it a madness in her, so in the flower of her youth, now they had procured her to be restored to her former dignity and estate, to disclaim from it of her own accord, and so much to neglect herself, and contemn the world as she did by that act of renunciation which she made, especially when they saw her to respect Poverty so much, as to prefer it far before all the honours, riches, and delights of the world, and to prize Devotion before the Court, and the delights thereof: so as they now could hardly look on her with an equal eye. But the Servant of Christ, upon the warrant & testimony of a good conscience, knowing she did it for the love of her dear Saviour, set light by all, and endured all their affronts, scorns, and reproaches, with such patience and constancy, as she rejoiced not a little to be able to suffer any thing for the love of him, Who had vouchsafed her the favour to suffer: Who as she was now grown a wondering stock to the world, and by the foolish followers thereof, adjudged & held as a mere distracted Woman, for those her extravagancyes, (as they took them) to fly industriously, what they all ambitiously sought for and so eagrely aimed at; as honour pleasure, preferment, and the like; utterly refusing the Regency of those estates, with the liberty, delights, and pomps of the Court, abandoning all in pursuit of Poverty, so greatly in contempt with them. So was she, in another sense as much admired and beloved of the pious, just, and all good people, for a mirror and pattern of all virtues. So as now, the Pope at that time being Gregory, having heard the fame of her excellent virtues, took especial notice of her, and for her better encouragement therein, admitted her as his Daughter into the protection of the Sea Apostolic, and understanding how that famous Conrade the venerable Priest, had some practice and dealing with her heretofore in spiritual matters, he recommended her more over particularly by letters unto him, to have more special care then ordinary of her, in guiding her in the way of perfection: pursuing the pious and religious inclination he found in her to the utmost scope and extent she was capable of; sending her withal in the said Letters, Which purposely he was to show unto her, most grave and holy admonitions and words of exceeding comfort, instructing her by the example of the blessed Saints, to the practice of Patience, Chastity, and perseverance in all virtues, giving her to Understand, there was no other way to Heaven, but that which Christ, with all his Saints had trod before her, and as it were even leveled for her, with continual pains, invincible labours, and infatigable travails: assuring her moreover, he would not forsake her, but ever esteem her as his dear Child and loving Daughter, if she went forward and proceeded with constancy in the course so happily begun.  
These letters, you may imagine were accordingly showed by Conrade, to the virtuous Elizabeth, and gave her incredible content, to understand, his Holiness, the Vicar of Christ, should take so especial a note and regard of her, and therefore now more than ever, determined to advance herself what possibly she might, in the way of perfection: beseeching Conrade, according to the Pope's instruction, to take a more special account of her, than hitherto he had done, giving him from thenceforth absolute power of her. Which accordingly he accepted, and she thereupon made a surrender of herself into his hands, to be wholly guided by him, submitting herself to a punctual obedience to him in all things, for her greater merit.  
The Father then with a grave and venerable aspect, made a large discourse unto her; unfolding many Texts of scripture, and alleging for her comfort, many testimonies and examples of Saints in approbation of the act she had done, in making a voluntary Oblation of herself, into his hands, by so free a Donation and entire surrender of herself; and encouraged her also, to a contempt of the world, chastisement of the flesh, and to an utter divorce and full renunciation of all transitory things, in affect at least, though not in effect for special ends.  
This Servant of God was so inflamed with these sweet speeches of her Master, as she was now more set on fire then ever, so as she would needs arrive at once to the utmost perfection of Poverty and humility: and for this end entreated her Master, she might be suffered to beg her living from door to door; but the holy man by no means would condescend thereto, saying. It was not convenient that a Princess of that blood, and so tender and delicate of Complexion, should go up and down the streets a begging. And for that she persisted still in her suit with many tears, he chid her for it, saying: where was her Obedience now, had she so soon forgot her holy purpose? that Obedience was a Sacrifice, and little less than a kind of Martyrdom; and that if aimed at perfection, there was no other way, more secure, more compendious, and sublime then to yield up herself, in a whole and entire holocaust, by a perfect abnegation of her Will in all things, through a voluntary obedience, and a most exact accomplishment of her Vow. Whereupon she passed no further with her humble suit.  
But yet was not a little troubled that she might not be suffered to renounce and abandon all at once protesting privately to her Maids in familiar discourse with them, that she accounted the World as mere dung, and had never heretofore affected wealth or worldly riches half so much, as now she had a loathing, not only of the property and dominion over them, but even the use and handling of them, even for the use of others, if she might have her will; but my Master (she would say) will have it otherwise, and so will I to, since he will have it so. And for her Children, she professed more than once, that she loved them with the same affection she loved others, since she had now commended them to God, and left them to his heavenly protection. And finally for the pure love of God, that she willingly endured all the slanders and contumelyes of the envious, and the reproachful mocks and scoffs, abstracting from their sins who so freely and prodigally broke them on her, she both desired them, & delighted and gloried in them, as the Apostle in his infirmities.  
Wherefore seeing her former design took no better effect; she so submitted her will to the necessity of obedience, in that point of not begging from door to door, as she thought herself as yet left free in the other; to despoil herself at least of all dominion or power in what she had assigned for her dowry, and other vidual rights allotted by the Prince in the agreement made between them, thinking it enough to content herself, with the use only of what should be necessary for her, from the said rents. And therefore she watched but occasion to abandon such property and dominion in them, to follow as she desired evangelical Poverty, and the example of her dear Saviour, the nearest she could possibly. When presently this occasion was offered.  
It was then the holy Week, when upon Good Friday she went with her Master, together with her Maids to the Monastery of Saint Francis, to be present at the Ceremonies, and to hear the Sermon of the Passion on that day. After which, the solemnities ended, they retired themselves, to a certain Chapel of the said Monastery, for their particular devotions, where finding the Altar despoiled likewise of all the ornaments, as in all other places uses to be on the same day: Upon the sudden in a fervour, she went to the said Altar, and laying her hand thereon, with a solemn Vow made herself formally a Nun of the Third Order of Saint Francis of the Penitents, wherein she renounced her Parents, her Children, and all her friends with the pomps and Vanities of the world; and finally her proper Will, and was even about (and certainly had effected it) to have renounced the property and dominion also of all her terrene possessions; If the Reverend Father Conrade at hand, with his sage wisdom, and sweet and apt words, had not hindered, and suddenly interrupted her speech, commanding her to stay there, and to pass no further in her Vow; saying, she had promised enough, that first it were fit to put in practice what she had already taken in hand, ere she rashly adventured on the rest, without sufficient advice and mature deliberation. The servant of God was immediately checked herewith, and very willingly obeyed her Master, in a matter very mainly repugnant to her inclination, but not her will, since now her will was grown to be wholly the same with that of his. Yet fearing she had done against the former Vow of Obedience, made unto him, in offering to do a thing contrary to his liking, she craved pardon for it. Beseeching him she might presently take the secret habit belonging to the said Third Order, from the hands of the Guardian there present, and make her absolute profession thereof, in all their sights: and further for a more assurance on her part, desired she might likewise renew her particular Vow of Obedience to him, Which was granted.   

HOW ELIZABETH BVILT herself a poor Cottage, while her house was building in the City: and what a holy life she led afterwards. CHAP. X.  
SPiritual Children are to observe three things, with their Superiors, and spiritual guides of their soul. First to love them truly indeed as Fathers, and not to judge their works, but rather if their Superiors, have any appearance of evil in them, they are to cover them with love, and to seek reasons to excuse them. They are also to have compassion on them, for the pains they take in guiding them, in the way of perfection: and continually to implore at the hands of God, to afford them light, and grace, to govern, and direct them to the greater glory, and honour of his divine Majesty, and the good, and behoof of their Subjects. Secondly, to reverence them as Fathers, who are in the place of jesus Christ, and are his Vicars as it were, and Vicegerents on earth. The third, is to obey him in all things, and by how much the thing commanded be diametrically opposite to proper will, so much the more is he to enforce, and to use violence with himself, to effectuate the same, understanding the great merit which comes thereof. And especially to observe these seven conditions of perfect Obedience. The first, is to obey with great promptness, and readiness. Secondly, with a good wil Thirdly, simply, blindly, and without reply. The fourth, without sadness, or rather with mirth, and very chearefuly. The fifth, with fortitude, and without impatience. The sixth with perseverance. And the seaventh, and last, with humility.  
These things this great Servant of God observed very punctualy towards her Superior, whom she had formerly chosen, and whom his Holiness had now especially recommended to her, and lastly, whom she herself had accepted by a formal Vow on that behalf for her spiritual guide. Hence it was, that loving her Master dear, and reverencing him so highly as she did; being desirous to be trained up, and practised in holy Obedience, which she could not well exercise in his absence from her. He then having urgent, and necessary occasion to reside at Marpurge a chief City in Hassia, the holy Elizabeth by no means would stay behind, but follow him to the same City. Where being arrived, finding the ancient enmity (as yet) not quenched which had universally, and most injuriously been conceived every where against her: And having no house there as yet convenient for her, she left the Town for a while to live in the Country near at hand, giving order to have one built there according to her mind. And for that, she would not be troublesome to any the while, she settled herself in the ruins of an old Palace thereby. Where finding the shaft or tunnel of the chimney lying open to the foresaid Palace yard, she caused certain prongs to be pitched some distance from the wall of the said chimney, and a sorry beam to be laid a cross, from thence she raised very slender poles instead of rafters, to sustain the reeds, thatch, and boughs she intended to lay upon them, which she did as well as she could, and so built her a house, such as it was. Where so long as she made her abode, we may imagine the many incommodityes she suffered: partly by the smoke, partly by the heats, and sometimes again by the wind, and rain; where hardly blew any great blast but put her in fear of being unhowsed: all which discommodities she chearefuly endured, still praising and magnifying God for al.  
In this mean while was her house finished in the City with more speed than expenses, when presently she returned thither: Where she began afresh to serve God in all holiness of life; more like an Angel in Paradise, than a Novice in her new Institute. Whatsoever she heard or saw in any other, she ever would imagine, they spoke or did them with a good intention, though the contrary rather appeared, because humane judgements, and suspicions, are easily deceived. She despised none, nor spoke any thing tending to her own praise to any how familiar soever with whom she conversed, not so much as with her own Maids, in whom notwithstanding she was very confident; but laboured rather to cover, and hide her virtues from them, than her vices. She listened more willingly to hear one praised, then to be dispraised never so little. Whensoever she spoke, her words were few, grave, and most commonly of God. When any secular chanced to speak any vain, and unprofitable thing in her presence, she endeavoured to cut of the discourse, and apply▪ it to God, or divert the speech some other way, till at last she had brought it to some pious matter of edification. She took little care for any thing that happened to her or others, nor would be troubled for Adversities, or puffed up with any Prosperities whatsoever; she set light by all things, and praised God in every thing. She shunned all tatlers as much as might be, as holding it better to hold her peace, then to speak sometimes, though to the purpose, out of a love she had to religious silence.  
If she noted any thing in an other which seemed not well, she would consider with herself, whether she were not subject to the same vice; if she were, she would be confounded thereat, and if otherwise, give thanks unto God for it, and crave to be delivered from it: whereby each thing became as a glass unto her. She would not pertinaciously affirm or deny any thing, but all her affirmations, and denials were as prudent doubts. She kept herself from all manner of laughing, or even from smiling, unless very seldom on good occasions, and that with exceeding modesty, more like a forced, and feigned smile then open laughter. Finally all her words, and speeches were such as caused no doubts, suspicions, or iealousyes in any that heard them, but were always very plain, and simple. So much for her words, and Tongue, the most difficult instrument of the rest to be well ordered, and governed. And now for her actions, and works of her hands.  
She was very hospitable, and charitable to the poor, now more than ever, as she arrived to a greater perfection, and knowledge, and consequently a more ardent love of God, whom she chiefly regarded in her Neighbour, and for whose sake she respected him wholly. She often visited the hospital, which she had formerly built at her own cost, still cherishing the members of Christ, with all the comfort she was able to afford them. And how beyt, she gave alms in common to the poor, according to her ability, yet she made particular choice beside, to place in her hospitals such, as either excelled in the exercise of the Christian Religion, or else were the most infirm, and disabled of the rest. And many times she invited to her own table the most impotent, and miserable wretches of all, bidding them heartily welcome, and served them likely from her own trencher, and if any thing were more dainty, and choice than other, she would be sure to share, and divide it amongst them, wherein she esteemed she fed Christ; and therefore no marvel she was so respectful, and tender of them.  
Now than the venerable Conrade seeing her manner, how she entertained such so familiarly to her own Table, considering the dignity of her person, esteemed it unfitting; saying it was too much rusticity in her to do so, and that better it were to recommend such offices to others in her own name, which would be as acceptable to them, and perhaps more, while they could not be so free with her, as with others. Wherefore it were much fitter for her to forbear from them, and to addict herself unto more solid virtues which had not so much of the extraordinary, and a kind of dangerous singularity in them. Whereat the reverend Matron besought pardon of him, if she herein had done amiss, protesting indeed for her part, she found no such inconvenience therein of self complacence, vanity, and the like; but a great deal of submission, and lowliness of heart, in that rather than any other ways, and for any difficulty or aversion therein, she found none, nor the company of such, gave her any offence at all, but a great deal of sweetness which he might deprive her of, if it pleased him, and she would obey, affirming that her scope therein was, but to mortify herself, and to satisfy for her too much curiosity, niceness, and dainetynes in those very things in her former life as holding that Evils were best cured by their contraries. Whereat her Master was silent, and thereby tacitly licenced her to do what she would, since therein be noted the Unction of the Holy Ghost to work in her, and that it were no discretion for him to debar her thereof. But intended to prove her in some other things for her greater spiritual advancement.   

HOW CONRADE DISMISsed two of Elizabeth's chiefest Maids: and how strict a life she led in extreme poverty. CHAP. XI.  
TRue it is, that our perfection, consists not essentially in mortification, but in Charity rather, and in the ardent love of God, and to say true, a Man is so much the more perfect, as he is more united with God through love. For even as a stone remaining aloft, in taking the impediments away which hold it there, against its natural inclination, presently hies to the earth its proper centre: so our soul being a spiritual substance, and created for God, in taking away the lets and impediments of disordinate appetites, and evil inclinations, which dispose and incline it to things beneath, being presently assisted by divine grace, goes directly to God as to her Centre, and last end, and through love embraceth him, and unites herself with him. My weight is my love, thither am I swayed whithersoever I am carried. That which is the weight, in the elements, and natural bodies, is Love in rational creatures, and as natural things do move downwards according to the weight they have: So the reasonable Creatures are moved according to the love which predominates, and sways in them: because indeed that same is the weight that belongs unto them. Now than if the love of things beneath predominates in us, and particularly the appetite to private familiarity sway with us, our motions, and desires shall be sensual, and inclining to the earth: But if we untie ourselves through mortification from the love of all those sensual things, the love of the Creator shall rule in us, and that shall be our weight, and our hart shall presently fly unto God with more lightness and agility than a stone to its centre.  
Wherefore like a wise and discrete man, perceiving how Elizabeth with all her forces and endeavours, laboured to attain to the highest pitch of all perfection, and that especially by the works of charity; thought himself to be strictly bound in conscience, to have an especial care to promote such a subject, the best he could, to some higher point of perfection, than he had hitherto done, as conceiving now more highly than ever of her greater capacity and longer extent in spiritual matters, intending on his part, that nothing should be wanting to further the same, nor any impediment be put that might any ways hinder greater advancement in spirit. While Conrade was in this serious deliberation with himself, contriving what was fit to be done, he bethought him of a certain thing, expedient to be practised with her for that end: and that was this.  
His long experience now by this time, in guiding of souls, had let him see how great a hindrance it was in spiritual warfare, even in the choysests spirits and best refined, to have any private affections to any friend or acquaintance soever, not only in worldly conversations, which infaillibly destroys the spirit quite, but even in things directly spiritual, and wholly tending to heavenly matters. And therefore considering the great love and affection which passed between Elizabeth and two of her Maids above the rest, namely Isentrude and Guta, he thought it good to send for them both, and fairly deal with them about their remove from their Lady for certain reasons of his, which he presumed they would not disallow of, if it were convenient they should be acquainted therewith: in the mean time he wished them to submit their wills and judgements thereunto, and they should be otherwise provided for. The sober and discreet Maids they had likewise, together with their Lady, as he knew, given up themselves to his dispose, so as there remained no more for them to effect his will, then to know his pleasure. That said, and they departed; he calls for Elizabeth herself, and told her his mind very plainly, without any manner of circumlocutions or ambages at all, that his pleasure was, for some reasons which she was not to examine, or enter into, to dismiss presently two of her maids: Who supposing it had been to ease her of her charge of some that might seem to him supers●…ous, and might well be spared; replied: She was ready to obey, but fain would know who they were and understanding, that Guta, and Isentrude were they, her colour altered alitle to and fro, and interchangeably went and came, and presently again having gathered, her spirits together, with a cheerful and serene countenance, gave her consent, to have the divorce effected out of hand, since it was his pleasure. They were therefore immediately sent for in, to come before them, to whom Conrade very peremptorily delivered the sentence of their separations from their Lady and Mistress, not without the tears & tenderness of all parties. For though the superior parts were assigned in all, yet were not the inferior so composed, as not to discover their imbecillityes, save only Elizabeth soon recollected herself again, leaving her Maids disconsolate, to see themselves deprived of the Solace they were wont to receive in her angelical company and religious conversation. For she well considered with herself, that Obedience consisted not in the exterior execution only of the thing commanded, but in the conformity also of the will and judgement, with that which the Superior wills and thinks fitting, holding the foundation of Obedience to be a firm faith that the Superior is ruled & governed by God in what he commands, since he is in the place of God, and our saviour Christ saith: who heareth you, heareth me: and therefore is to be obeyed in every thing wherein no fine appeareth. She remembered the saying of her Master at other times, that a true obedient Child should carry himself as a dead body which hath neither Understanding nor will▪ Like a Crucifix which suffereth i●… self to be moved either this way or that way, without any difficulty at all, and considered beside how this kind of Blind Obedience, so much recommended by Saints, consisted in this; that a man accomplish what he is commanded to do, for the reason only that obedience commands and for that the Superior stands in the place of God, without any other reason or discourse at all. And that, even as in matters of faith, one yields and submits himself for this cause only, that God reveals, and delivers what is commended to be believed, and for the only authority of God, which is the highest truth: So likewise one obeys and eff●…cts what the superious commands for this only reason, that it is the commands of the Superior, who is in the place of God, and that to obey him is to obey God, nor obeys he for any other reason. For which cause, the same is called a Blind obedience, as the aforesaid faith is called Blind. Thus discoursed the holy Matron within herself upon the act of Obedience which her Master so put her to; Which truly bred a most singular effect in her. For being thus bereft of the comfort she formerly took in the sweet familiarity of those two Maids, so grateful to her, the river as it were so dammed up on every side with churlish banks, made the waters of spiritual graces to abound more in her, & to mount up to heaven with more facility. For as a pipe or Conduit which leaks in many places at once, discharges less waters into the Cistern then otherwise it would; Which being stopped, delivers them forth with a greater abundance: So needs must the Soul being a copious Cistern of heavenly graces, appear to be less redundant, and to yield fewers acts of love and charity to God, by how much more are the leaks of terren love it is affected with. Which being here stopped in the Servant of Christ, made her to spring up so high to so heroical acts of eminent Virtues, as she did here upon.  
For after this, living in great poverty with her other Maids, her food but lettuce and other hea●…bes, commonly sod in fair Water, through her extreme love of Poverty without any Oil or butter, or so much as Vinegar or Salt, which sometimes through her great neglect of such things, would be, as they say burnt too; for which fault being sometimes her own Cook, she disdained not to be rebuked of her own Maids, and many times when she lighted on a morsel better than ordinary, she would spare from herself, and deprive herself thereof, to impart to the poor which were in the house with her. She received at the hands of her Master a habit made of the coursest cloth, without any other die then the natural tincture, and a short cloak exceedingly patched with diverse colours, which cloak because it was held too short for her gravity, was afterwards lengthened with an other piece of a different colour. Whensoever she had necessity, as sometimes she had to mend her own clothes, she was so unskilful in that art, as she might be said rather to mar then to amend awhit. She was fain to spin wool, for want of skill to handle flax, wherewith she seemed to gain her living which was fare more grateful to her, than all the pleasures of Princes: and to this kind of work, she applied herself so earnestly as that being sickly, and keeping her Bed, she would have the rock and distaff in her hand to spin with, when she could hardly lift up her head, which if her Maids, as sometimes they would, had snatched out of her hands, to avoid Idleness she would prepare and dress the same with Guarding or the like, and spin it afterwards in better health, and being sorupulous, would abate some part of the price she was to have, as fearing and mistrusting her work deser●…ed not so much, so done in sickness. Nor may we think she did these things out of a base and dejected mind: for while she was thus lowly spinning in the Chimney Corner, her mind would be contemplating most high & sublime points, of the housewifry our Lady used in her humble Nazareth, What joseph did the while she was spinning, and what the Infant jesus did, when they both were so busily employed. She would meditate how unworthy she was to have dressed up our Lady's work for her, how gladly she would have carded or reeled for her, and a thousand such conceits she revolved in mind, and yet her hands, her head, and body were as busy, as she had minded naught, but what she was doing. And though in presence she enjoyed the company of her Maids here beneath, yet in spirit her whole conversation was with the Angels above.   

A CERTAINE NOBLEM AN of Hungary endeavours in vain to persuade Elizabeth to return with him to her Father, & what acts of humility she showed. CHAP. XII.  
Such is the perverse condition of some worldly men, that having Children, and consequently being Parents only, as touching the extraction they received from them, and not having any power over the souls of their Children, being immediately created of God, and infused into the organised body, they take upon them (I know not how) and usurp a kind of tyrannical power over them, diverting them too oft from virtuous courses, when they are well given, and religiously disposed. Pressing them over hardly with the fourth precept of the decalogue of honouring Parents. For every one is free in what 
Exod 2●… 12.  concerns the choice of a state of life; nor may the Parents force the Son or Daughter to match against their like; nor doth Parental power extend so far. And though we Owe unto Parents much, for giving us these bodies which we take from them; Yet we owe more unto God, who hath given us also these very bodies in a higher nature; and for our souls, himself hath given them us alone. God, is Father of Body, and Spirit both; they Parents of the Body only; God for our own profit, and salvation becomes our Father; and they for their honour's sake, their inheritances, and perpetuityes on earth, to lead us often into hell with them. Wherefore in the affair of our salvation there is no duty neither with Father or Mother nor other Parents, while Christ sayeth, we are to reject, and refuse them all in this case.  
Hence it was, that Elizabeth being well instructed in either duties, could answer well to a certain Count, who in behalf of her Father, came from Hungary to visit her where she remained in Hass●…a. Who finding her in that state we mentioned above, and half besides himself to behold such a spectacle, could hardly believe it was she, but being struck with astonishment, endeavoured with all the rhetoric he had, to dissuade from those courses, so unfit (as he said,) and misbeseeming her state, and dignity, as the Widow of such a Prince as Lewis was, and Daughter of so great a Monarch, as his Master: Telling her that he was sent a purpose to bring her into Hungary, where she should live according to her dignity, & not be forced to live in obscurity, in that vile, and abject manner, assuring her beside, that her tender Father now hold no longer, hearing in what extremity she was, and therefore by all means, she was to resolve upon the matter, and to prepare for the journey since he was sent to her a purpose to bring her to him. Whereto she answered, her state, and manner of life, she hoped, did no ways derogate from a Christian Woman, and so long, One had not degenerated awhit, or wronged her Family from whence she came, and therefore she entreated him, he would be pleased to satisfy her Father, that though otherwise she were the wredchedst sinner on earth, yet for her duty towards him, she found not her conscience touched with the least remorse, for any disparagement of his house or family that she had incurred in harkening to the vocation of her heavenly Father who had called her to that state, and manner of life. The Count replied, the state, and Nobility of Princes, was different from that of others, & how it was each thing should be ranked in its order, according to the dignity thereof, and where the harmony of Order was once broken, there could be no less than a mere confusion in things. That those courser habits, which she wore, became her i'll; that so much maceration of her body had greatly decayed her goodly complexion, which she was bound to cherish, to the honour of the Creator, and not so injuriously to deface the workmanship of his hands with such excesses as she used. He said beside, that if the state of the Continent be holy, the married state is likewise, to such as holily embrace it. And that S. Anthony from the desert, & S. Francis from his Celestina was conveyed to heaven: so likewise, with the cares of royalty S. Lewis most gloriously mounted thither. And if the affairs, and traffics of the world be so great an impediment to attain to heaven; What hindered S. Maurice in the libertynes, and negotiations of war: and SS. Cosmas and Damianus in their practices of physic, and a number of other holy souls in other professions, you will think very full of distractions, but indeed most nearly conjoined with God in that state, and why might not she returning to her Father in Hungary, and restored to her former dignities, betake herself to a second match, such as he shall easily find out for her, and live as happily, and securely in that state as she had done in her husband's life, through her great liberality to the poor, persevering in such works as she formerly had practised during his life, and gain as great a place in heaven? Alleging also, the known example of the Abbot Paphnutius, Who having once demanded of God whom he resembled nearest in this life, learned diverse times from the mouth of an Angel, that a certain Player of the flute, and a Merchant of Alexandrie were his equal in merits. So that if they in these exercizes which are accompanied with so many disstractions have been able to attain to such a degree of perfection, What great disturbance is it, trow you, should she find in such a state as would better agree with her calling, and condition, then that which now she had undertaken.  
Thus spent this faithful Ambassador his breath in vain, prevailing no more with this constant hart; then the winds and waves of the imp tuous seas are able to move a huge rock; & therefore was dispatched by her, full of wonder, and astomishment to hear her admirable wisdom, & to note her discretion in giving answer to all this, which she did so judicially, & piously to every point, as he now began to think she had great reason of her side, and that his agreements on the contrary were but frivolous, and to no purpose: as he affirmed at his return, persuading not only her Royal Father, but all the Court of Hungary to conceive most highly of her courses, so as her Father began now to promise to his house more honour to redound to it by such a Daughter, than heretofore he had ever surmised dishonour.  
In the mean while, Elizabeth now delivered of the earnest importunities of the solicitous Ambassador, considering with what industry, & diligence those of the world endeavour to go forward, & advance themselves more, and more, & to make themselves more excellent in any manner of profession as of Learning, Arms, or the like, and how a rich man the more he hath, the more he covets to have, and labours more to make his gain, and all for frail and transitory goods: she bethought herself how much rather she should addict herself to the purchase of celestial and eternal goods: And therefore knowing of what avail the Works of Charity were, & especially of Humility: She now applied herself to acts of humiliation more than ever. And her singular humility, & familiarity was such with her Maids at home, as she made herself their equal at least, if not inferior, so as to lay aside the name of Lady or Mistress, she would only be called by them by her proper name, and that as familiarly as, they use to style it.  
Finally Causing them to sit down with her at the same table, she would be their Cook sometimes in her turn, and eat together of the same dish with them. Which humility of hers, when one of her Maids admiring, said: Good Woman you little regard, it seems, our danger here, while seeking to increase your own merits, you put us in hazard to be easily tempted, with proud cogitations by being made so familiar with you, and used as your equals, Whereby we may lose the fruit of our conversation with you. Whereto Elizabeth replied. Why Daughter if it trouble thee so to sit by me at the same Table, thou shalt eat, and take thy meat from my Lap, and made her so to do in good earnest. This her humility and Mildness▪ of behaviour, was likewise adorned with a wondrous gracious kind of speech, Which she always practised among her Maids. And as she had a strange, and extraordinary Care, that no words of vanity should come from them, or peevish or distasteful speech, be utered by them in her presence against each other, as with the best disposed will happen now, and then, either by words, signs, or otherwise, she would readily, and handsomely check them for it in a very good manner▪ saying: Where is our Lord now Sisters, who promised assuredly to be present with his Servants whensoever they talked of him: Her sharpness was mixed with such sweetness, that as she would dissemble and wink at no faults: so she was not austere in punishing any, While her familiarity caused not impunity, nor her rebukes carried any acerbity with them.     


THE THIRD BOOK.   

THE THIRD BOOK OF THE HISTORY OF S. ELIZABETH.  

Of the exceeding Charity of S. Elizabeth towards her Neighbour, especially the sick: With her great humility. CHAP. I.  
SEEING we are all partakers of the self same nature, and every living creature, is apt to love and affect another like to itself, and that Man especially is borne without weapons or corporal defence, as other creatures are, as being wholly made for peace and concord: it follows by consequence how greatly we stand in need of each other, and this same, so ordained of God, for a stricter bond of mutual Charity and assistance one of another. For while one loves or hates his neighbour, he loves or hates the Image of God, framed by his own hand. No maruaille then, if Elizabeth considering these things, (as doubtless she did,) was found to be so charitable towards the poor upon all occasions, in whom she considered the said Image of God, to remain so lively imprinted, as it were in the nature of Man. But then considering him again, as redeemed by the precious Blood of our Saviour Christ, though otherwise he had had no such dignity at all, before in his Creation, she well understood the Ransom had been able itself to have made him far more precious ●…en heaven and earth; and consecuently she laboured by all means to ●…leiue these Images of God, so pre●…ous, and soto be valued for either ●…tles. And she wisely pondered ●…ithal, what good soever was found 〈◊〉 her Neighbour, was the goods ●…f God, and common to all; and what ●…uil, a common calamity and detri●…ent to all; & that, as we are all members, as it were, of the same body; she considered how careful we ought to ●…ee, to succour & relieve one another; ●…s we see in the body of a man, how sensible are all the members of the hurt ●…r damage of any particular one.  
Besides, these common inducements to move her unto Charity, towards the needy and afflicted neighbour; she would likewise help and excite herself thereunto, by this special reason. That even those wh●…m she beheld to be in great extreamityes, either of poverty, sickness, or grievous infirmities, she might happily one day see & observe to be heirs of God, and coheyres of Christ resplendent as the Sun, in the kingdom of their heavenly Father, Citizens among the Saints, and Dearest to God, and might behold there, as so many Altars of incense, as so many Kings of glory, and so many Organs to praise and exalt the most holy Trinity.  
The deep apprehension no doubt of these things, had bred that inflamed Charity she felt in herself, in relieving, assisting, and comforting her Neighbour in all distresses. This made her, when she went to visit the poor, in their own houses, (as often she did;) to be always attended by one or other, to carry along with her sundry sorts of all kind of provisions, as meat, drink, and clothes for the purpose, not omitting the while, fit medecins for the sick, as she understood they were in need; and would minister to them with her own hands, and deal & distribute to the poor, what necessary things she had brought with her, and accordingly examine their apparel and other necessaries, for their houses, as beds, sheets, coverlets, and blanckets, and ever supply what was wanting, if she had wherewithal; and if she had it not, she would provide it for them, by selling her rings of gold, her bracelets, and jewels, which still she had for the same purpose; so as she was forced at last to sell with much disadvantage, certain apparel she wore in former times, as yet left her, to furnish them with things which she held to be simply needful for them.  
Amid these spoils which she made so of her own goods, she being now exhausted, not having wherewith to ful-fil the suit and humble request of a poor man, who begged but a sorry fish at her hands, on a certain day of abstinence; she made her prayer to Christ very anxiously for him; when arising from prayer, whether it were that she expected what followed, as the fruits and effect thereof, or that otherwise she had need of some water for some uses of hers, I cannot say▪ but she going to the Spring to draw thereof, where no fish at all could be any ways expected, she fetched up one in her bucket, for the satisfying of the hunger, or the longing of the poor man: this is certain she drew up the fish, and giving it to him, sent him away exceedingly well satisfied. And verily it is thought she had done the like before and after diverse times, which still for humility she sought to conceal, but could not now do it in his presence; who doubtless went away satisfied, praising the works of God, being so miraculously fed through the prayers and merits of Elizabeth, the great Servant of God.  
Her Charity likewise much appeared in a certain difficult thing; for being a woman of that condition as she was, so delicately bred up, as she had been; took upon her to tend an Orphan, sick of many irksome and grievous diseases at once, as of the palsy, catarrh, and bloody flux, so as very often in the night, she was fain to take up the child, in her tender arms, not being otherwise able to wield itself; and did it with such willingness and alacrity, as astonished such as were witnesses thereof; and to show that she did it very freely and willingly indeed; when as after notwithstanding the care she had, the Child died; as if she had lost some notable benefit by its death; she was not quiet till she had privily taken to her charge, to tend a certain Maid wholly destitute and forlorn, and sorely infected with a grievous leprosy, whom she served with such Charity, as she not only dressed her meat, made her bed, and fetched her water to wash her hands, but being so great a personage, disdained not to abase herself even to the ground to pull off her hose and shoes, and the like. Which when the venerable Conrade understood; considering the loathsommes of that disease, and the daintynes of her complexion, he gave on the sudden express order, the leprous Maid should be removed thence, and the Lady debarred from coming at her, providing otherwise for the party.  
Though Elizabeth by some, might well be thought to be throughly mortified herein, to be so peremptorily barred of her will, (as they might imagine) in so pious a thing, she having as it appeared, so seriously set her mind thereon, yet in truth it troubled not her awhit, for weighing with herself, that charitable acts, how great soever, do loose their virtue and efficacy, if they be not discreet withal, she was satisfied with the will of her Superior, whom God had appointed over her. For she considered indeed that true Charity principally required two things: First, not to content ourselves with the only shadow of Charity, which is sweet and tender feeling towards the Neighbour, but such an effect also, as properly bereaves a man of all self-love, as not to seek nor mind any thing but the glory of God, and to ful-fil his blessed will, And whatsoever any ways befalls him, either interiorly or exteriorly, to accept from the hand of God, in doing all to his greater glory, and not to seek what is pleasing to himself, but what is most agreeable to the will of God. The second is, that howbeyt the Love of God can not be so great, but that still he is worthy of much greater, yet are the exterior works and practices thereof, to be measured with a certain moderation of discretion, least being neglected, they hurt either our own health, or hinder the edification of our neighbour. And therefore she wisely considered, there was no greater security herein, then wholly to stand to the judgments of her lawful Superior. Who if he grant and afford us, to do less than we willingly would do, yet shall a supple and pliable mind herein, relinquishing its proper will, be a great deal more grateful to God, than the hardest and most difficult thing that may be enterprised, without the same refignation.  
Yet could not Elizabeth forbear, such was her Charity, to receive a Boy into her charge, whose head was all become bald, by reason of the S●…uruy or Scurf, which had overgrown it, whom she out of hand, what with washing, anointing, and the attendance she gave him cured, or rather with the fervour of her fai●…n procured his recovery from the hands of God▪ 〈◊〉 she had none, yet wrought she ma●…y cures, no doubt under the colour of some manner of skill at least, through her charitable diligence doing therewith many admirable things.  
And lastly, this excellent Charity of hers, was ever accompanied with humility, as Sister's hand in hand. For besides her ordinary employments in the exercise of all virtues: she would often wash the dishes, even out of her tu●…n, with the p●…ts and other vessels belonging to the kitchen, sending away her Maids many times about other business, that she might more freely attend to her own humiliation, so as often they found her busyed either in wiping them up, or but newly making an end, to their singular edification, in beholding the humility of the Servant of God.   

HOw ELIZABETH Delivers the soul of the Queen her Mother from Purgatory, with her prayers only: and likewise procured the vocation of a certain libertine unto Religion. CHAP. II.  
AS it is no ordinary thing, but wholly miraculous, for souls being departed this life, to return to this world, from whence they passed so it cannot be denied, but that sometimes they appear unto us, where, when, and how, through divine dispensation, the same is permitted unto them. Now for their own commodity, because thereby they are the more succoured by the living when they are suffered to appear to them; and sometimes for our instruction and profit, because that in hearing or in seeing them, we are not only the more confirmed in the faith of the immortality and resurrection of the dead, but do likewise receive many other benefits withal: & likely always they give us a faithful testimony of the providence which our Lord hath as well over the living as the dead. And howbeit, all souls which have left the body have proper power of their own nature, to move themselves from one place to an other, yet have not all the licence or liberty to use the same, some for being perpetually condemned to prison in Hell itself, others in Purgatory for a time, in punishment for sin, though not against their will, which is wholly conformable to God, nor can the one or other come from thence, without express order from the supreme judge of the living and Dead.  
Now than it happened in these days, in the night time, while Elizabeth was settled to sleep, that the Soul of one, of a sudden, appeared to her in her dream. Which vision how beyt in her sleep, yet appeared it as sensible unto her imagination, as she had been perfectly awake at noon day, and had seen an object indeed very subject to the senses; appearing at first in a mournful guise, and not manifesting as yet who it was: and after the invocation of the most holy Trinity, with the sign of the holy Cros●…e, she demanding who it was: The Spirit seemed to answer in her sleep, she was the Queen of Hungary her Mother, and falling on her knees, besought her most earnestly to have pity and compassion on her, as soon as might be: Whereupon awaking she immediately offered up to God her devout ' prayers, not without many tears in behalf of her Mother, and so laid her down to sleep a second time, and again the same very soul appeared to her in a glorious manner, and gave her infinite thanks for her sudden and speedy deliverance, assuring her beside, that her prayers had so great an energy with them in the ears of the divine Majesty, and were so graciously efficacious in his sight, as they were available as well for the living as for the dead: which shortly she found to be true, by her own experience.  
For having now already showed how for●…ible & efficacious the prayers of Elizabeth have been for souls departed. Let us see here how effectual they are in behoof of the living.  
It happened as then the manner was, that diverse Ladies and personages of good sort; some for devotion, and some for curiosity, and some (no doubt) to carp at the manner of her life, came to visit her; such was the fame and opinion they had of her; she being so rare a pattern of Contempt of the world, and especially, of voluntary Poverty. Among which, one day, came a certain Lady of her acquaintance, with a good intention to keep her company, being ushered by a son of hers, a proper and goodly Gentleman, and who exceedingly set forth himself, being extraordinary brave and gallant in apparel, and extremely in the fashion; so as easily appeared no little pains and care had been taken by him in all his habit well perfumed, to exhibit 〈◊〉 a perfect and complete Courtier: in a word, in his garb and whole comportement, he seemed a true Courtier, to comply with ladies in their element. The salutations between them were hardly passed, when Elizabeth, not much accustomed with those sights, found herself to be touched with a double zeal, the one of the honour & glory of God, seeing his Image to be so ●…owlely polluted with secular vanities, for so she esteemed those trickings and deckings of the body; the other for the soul of that poor young man, so vainly given and carried away with the gentle stream and sliding vogue of the world. And therefore knowing him well to be a youth of a good disposition, and perhaps made acquainted heretofore with some other better inclinations and intentions of his; could She not choose but ingenuously say to him.  
Good Sir, how happens you are now so brave at this time, & grown such a Gallant; I have known when it hath been far otherwise with you: Are all those goodly designs of yours, now come to this, thus vanished into a smoke of so much vanities, what trick you up so trow you, but a mass of flesh, a tru●…se of hay, and no more; to day very goodly as you seem to your glass, to morrow a fee for the worms. Go to, my Child, away with these toys, and rear your mind to higher things, that soul of yours is too precious to be drowned so in these transitory waves of these secular pomps; Look back again into those former reflections of yours, you were wont to make, when your judgement was better than now it is; and make now at last a firm resolution to break with all these transitory things. Thus she. To whom the Gentleman replied. True it is Dear Madam, your Ladyship is in the right, and I must confess I have been too much to blame, to frustrate the good inspirations which God hath sent me, and whereto for a time I lent my ears, but now Lady through my own ingratitude, I know not how I am fallen into so strange a tepidity in such matters, if not stupidity, as I cannot think thereof, without a great aridity of mind, so as I feel myself now wholly possessed with a dullness and lethargy as it were of all good things, that they take up entirely all the faculties of my soul. This only remedy remains for me Madam, that your Ladyship would be pleased to implore and beseech our Lord in my behalf to take me forth of this dangerous state wherein I am, and to give me his grace I may break insunder these chains that entangle me, and so inveigle me in the snares of secular appetites and desires, and make me unapt for all goodness. To which she replied. And do you wish me indeed to pray for you as you say, and are you in earnest? Madam, said he, it is my desire and the height of my ambition. Marry then, said she, you must join with me, and unite your vows with mine▪ & second my prayers with yours. Which when he had yielded to; She craving pardon and licence of his Mother, took him into a private Oratory hard by, where they prayed together a pretty space, and it was not long ere the young Gentleman began to call upon her, saying: Cease now your pra●…ers Madam, and give over, for I find myself so enkindled with their fervour, that I can not endure their heat any longer. When; she prayed more heartily and more earnestly than before, and wi●…h greater vehemency than ever, still called upon God, he would please to look down upon that Wretch enthralled in the snares of this world, and call him efficaciously into some family of his, whereby wholly to bid adieu to the vanities of the world. But he feeling his body and especially his hart to be more and more inflamed within him, and his strength by little and little to fail him quite, being all over in a sweat, sometimes hot, sometimes cold, panting and striving for breath, as it were; called out more loud than before, and casting out his arms for weariness, yielding a puff withal, as the last of his breath, cried out amain, saying interruptedly as well as he could: Cease, cease o my dear Lady, for all my entrailes and bowels, and even the very marrow of my bones are exhausted quite, and nigh consumed with extreme fervour of your prayers. When two of the Maids together with the venerable Matron his Mother, coming in all haste, with hearing the cries he made, who were hardly able to hold him up by the waist, from sinking to the ground, or to stay, so that he might not take any harm by a fall through weakness, or that in aswoune, he might pass away and return no more unto himself. His body the while was so hot, as they could hardly endure to touch his flesh, being bathed all over with the sweat that started forth of the pores of his body, a liquor expelled & put forth, through excess of heat within him.  
At length, while she still persevered in prayers, the young man now able hardly to fetch his breath, still called upon her with a voice as loud as he could, saying with all submission, and greatest importunity he could. O Madam, I pray give over your prayers for the love of JESUS Christ, that I may not untimely thus end my days, whom you have so designed to a better life. Whereupon Elizabeth making an end, the young man began presently to come to himself, and to cool in his body, the heat ceasing, and he coming at last to a more natural temper, promised the Lady out of hand to receive the habit of Saint Frā●…is of Assisium, which shortly after he performed, to his unspeakable comfort and joy of his Mother, who loved him truly as Mothers ought to love their children, not barring him through carnal affection from his spiritual preferrements; where he continued to his dying day, still magnifying Elizabeth as the Author next unto God of his chiefest happiness and greatest felicity. Besides which act of hers, it is commonly reported, this blessed Matron procured the salvation of many, by the efficacy of her prayer.   

THE GREAT LIBERALITY and mercy of Elizabeth, showed after she had recovered her portion into her hands. CHAP. III.  
AS in all species or kinds of things, every one hath some manner of excellence above the rest: as in flowers, the Rose: the Lion, among the four footed beasts: the Delphin, with the fishes: in stones, the Diamant: the Fire, above the rest of the Elements: So Mercy among the rest of moral virtues seems to carry away the palm. But if we speak of the mercy of God, of all the divine attributes that are, there is none more advantageous to man, nor any found more glorious to himself: in this virtue God hath lodged perfection, which the Sages have constituted in a heap of all virtues; so as the merciful by means of this, may be said to possess all virtues. Secondly, o●… Lord hath placed felicity therein, and made a Beatitude thereof. And lastly in mercy God hath delineated a perfect draught as it were, according to the image and ressemblance of himself, where he says. Be you merciful a●… your heavenly Fathers is. A holy virtue no doubt which so dignifyes men that it makes them not only as Angels, but even like God himself.  
When Elizabeth therefore had recovered from the Prince the portion due unto her in consideration of her dowry, she was to receive of him, by a certain accord, made between them; She desired to have it reduced into a gross sum, that she might according to the Gospel▪ sell what she had, to have means to show this mercy we speak of, to the poor: Which she did, remembering the examples of the old and new Testament: That whereas Adam 
Gen. 3.  being naked after his sin; God though much offended with him, instead of punishing him, presently took care to clothe him: and therefore she would clothe the 
Leui●… 25.  naked. The jubily which was ordained in the old law, in favour of debtors, that in that holy year they should be freed of all their debts: taught her to relieve the needy and miserable in their necessities. The ordinance of God to leave the shatered ears of corn to the gleaners in the field during the harvest, was a lesson to her, to disperse what she had among the poor.  
In the new Testament, she had a●… assurance given her of a liberal rewar●… at the hands of God, for a dish of water given to the poor in his name▪ The Parables inviting the poor to the banquets of the rich householders were as so many instructions to her, to show mercy to them. The remembrance of that sad catastrophe of the rich Glutton for his want of compassion to Lazarus, and his unmerciful dealing with him, was a caution and terror to her. And she weighed withal, how the dreadful sentence of that terrible judge at the latter day; upbraided not, the committing of sins so much, as the omitting of the works of mercy. Considering therefore how in the harmony of man's body, one member succours an other without any manner of discourse a●… all, by the only impulse and inclination, they have of correspondences one with an other; she held it unreasonable and against nature not to succour the needy members of the mystical body of the Church, with whom she was one among the rest. And beholding how beasts of the same kind do flock together, to defend each other ●…n all occasions, she held it a shame her reason should be put to confusion by their want of reason, or to be found more brutish than beasts themselves, not to help, succour, and relieve her Neighbour of the self same species with her. But that which seemed to ●…ouch her most, was that saying of 
1. joh 3.  Saint john. He that beholds his brother ●…n necessity, and shuts up the bowels of ●…is mercy against him, how is it that Charity should rest in him? For this she considered, who hath not Charity hath not grace, and by consequence not life, but even remains in death; and lastly that he is not ●…ike to find any mercy at the hand of God who shows it not unto an other.  
Wherefore, I say, Elizabeth having gotten these treasures into her hands, she hid them not in the earth, as on●… that were fearful of wants herself▪ nor locked them up in Coffers, a●… one that were covetous: but relying rather on the providence of God, and having an eye on the immense profi●… and return she was to make thereof in the next life, she intended to put them forth to use, into the hands of Christ, by dealing them to the poor, in hope I say of an excess usury of 〈◊〉 hundred for one. She sent them into every Coast of the countries round about to assemble the poor together at a certain day designed by her, appointing likewise a certain place, least through ignorance perhaps any might err and miss the Deal. When lo at the place and time appointed, an incredible multitude of the poor of all sorts, came flocking thither, so as the like number of them had never been seen in Thuringia or Hassia either: it was a world to see how great a multitude there was: some lame, some blind, some deaf, some Orphans, some Widows, and some aged persons, and some with their whole families at once, as having no resting or abiding place. There might you see a mother carrying one child on her back, and an other hang clinging to her breast. A child leading his blind father, and the father carrying his lame child. The lame who had his eyes, but wanted limbs, was carried and sustained by him who had his limbs but not his eyes, being guided by him that sat above. If there were any with stump arms who had no hands, but his tongue very voluble and free, he would join with him that was dumb, and beg the one with his tongue, the other with his hand stretched forth; & Elizabeth herself would stand the while extteamely edified with the mutual charity which appeared amongst them. They showed being altogether, like a huge army scattered after a discomforture given, discovering their wounds and maims received in service, repairing to their Captain for pay, & stretching forth the hand to receive the same.  
Elizabeth therefore appointed some, both men and women to keep good order, in the distribution of the alms she intended to give, and to cause the multitude to sit down in certain files and ranks, and to quiet them if they chanced to tumultuat among themselves, as usually such people do, complaining of each other for the lightest cause, and many times without any cause at all; she prescribed a penalty of a public confusion, to the faulty and delinquents, by cutting off the hair of any whosoever should once presume to go forth of their place, while the dole was made, or were noted to molest their fellows any ways, or to offer to take a double alms, to the prejudice of the rest, who might happily want by such an abuse.  
Besides these poor, were present likewise an innumerous multitude of other people to behold the sight, whom the rareness thereof had moved to come and view the same. When this religious Comforter of the poor would walk among the midst of the ranks distributing the monies herself, which howbeit she might well have recommended to others, yet such was the pleasure she took therein, as she could not be satisfied, if she did it not with her own hands; doing herein like the careful and solicitous husbandman▪ who though he trust others to plow his land, yet will he sow the seed himself: being well advised, that who sows sparingly shall as sparingly reap, and who shall sow in benedictions, shall reap in benedictions. And this she did with so pleasant and cheerful a countenance, as well demonstrated the confidence she had of her future harvest in the next life. So as besides the treasures she laid up there, she gave forth a most excellent odour of sanctity to God and Angels, and a most lively example to men to follow her therein. In which distributions at one time only, she spent little less than five hundred pounds sterling, to the incredible relief of a world of people  
When lo the dole was ended, and the company were now broke up, they returned to their homes, all praising God with hymns and Canticles of joy, and magnifying this his trusty Stewardess & faithful Dispensatress●… of his goods, extolling her to the skies, and pouring forth a million of blessings upon her. Yet some there were who by reason of some sickness or other infirmities, were fain to abide there all night, and lie here and there all scattered up and down in the Hospital, the place appointed for the said dole, of whom this zealous Servant of Christ, not satisfying herself with what she had most charitably and liberally done already, took a most tender compassion, and presently commanded good fires to be made every where of Charcoals and billets, which she there procured at her own cost and charges, and the poor to be called to the same, and that every one, besides what they had already, should have a loaf of bread and sixpence a piece; and some who had the greatest need should moreover, have their feet ●…oth washed and anointed. Whereat the multitude broke forth into shouts of joy and hearty acclamations in her praises, crying out with one accord, Long live Elizabeth great Saint and servant of God: and she rejoiced the while, not to hear her own praises, ●…ut to see the members of Christ so well contented.   

OF A CERTAIN ACCIDENT which showed how Elizabeth had likewise the gift of Prophecy: With her charitable acts in relief of the poor. CHAP. FOUR  
AS the glorious Elizabeth was thus renowned for her bounteous alms, and the exercise of all virtues, which illustrate and eternize Saints to the end there might nothing be wanting to adorn her life, it appears she had likewise the Gift of Prophecy, and revelation of future things Which before we set down in particular, we will glance a little upon the doctrine of the Catholic Church, in this point of revelations in general, to engender a more constant belief of such things being related in particular. Now then a●… divinely▪ declares Pope Boniface th●… Ninth, in the Bull of the Canonization 
In 〈◊〉. Brig.  of Saint Bridgit; even from the beginning of the world Revelations have been. For that (according to the Apostle) to some is given the grace to work miracles; to some Prophecies etc. and it is a matter of faith to believe there have been such; and he were Heretic, who should deny the revelations of the Prophets, and particularly the Apocalips of Saint john. The Popes recount the visions & Revelations of many Saints, when they canonize them. Besides that, many Saints have written Revelations of other Saints: as S. Basil those of S. Columbanns and others: Saint Paulinus: Bishop of Nola, wrote those of Saint Faelix: S. Bernard those of S. Malachy: S. Bonaventure of S. Francis. And finally all those who but write the lives of Saints, recount their Revelations and Prophecies, as here we shall do of our Saint. Thus it was: At what time, that great and general dole was made to the poor we mentioned above, under the penalty of cutting off the hair of delinquents. A certain Damsel in the company was brought to Elizabeth, and accused, as one who had transgressed the aforesaid Ordinance made by her. Which she understanding, and not respecting her singular beauty and feature, nor yet her goodly hair laid forth to view, without more ado, not regarding her plaints, or listening to her friends who speak in her behalf, caused the same to be quite cut off; whereat the Virgin wept most bitterly, pitifully lamenting she was undone, there being some who constantly affirmed the young Maiden had committed no fault at all, and therefore had great injury offered her, by them who wrongfully accused her, she coming thither not for any greediness of alms, but to see a sister of hers there present. Whereat Elizabeth not moved awhit, smiling, replied. Go too then, the maid hath committed no manner of offence here, 'tis well, 'tis well, so much the better; and now by the loss of her hair she is like to gain her soul, and hereafter I trow she will refrain from her dancing, and the like. And sending for her, she appeared with a sad and desolate countenance, having lost so, that goodly ornament of her head; the dear Servant of Christ demanded of her, whether she ever had a desire or resolute purpose or Noah, to have lead a more regular and spiritual life than she had done. Whereto the Maid answered with a modest look, as being not a little confounded at the question she made her. True it is Madam, I must confess, nor if I would, without impiety can I deny, but that long since I had the mind to have entered into Religion, in some one of the best reformed orders; and surely had done it, if the gayness and beauty of my hair, which is now cut off, had not cooled my desire and frustrated the same.  
It is well then, replied Elizabeth and therefore am I now glad thy hair is cut off, for that I s●…e it hath been a great hindrance and impediment to thee, in a spiritual course: and this I say to thee beside, that I should not take so much comfort to have my son proclaimed Emperor, and see him seated and established in that Imperial Throne, as I shall do to see thee in so fair a way to become a Religious woman as thou first intendest; pray for me and bless the occasion that made you thus to enter into yourself. How say you, are you not content to abandon the world, and to betake yourself to a stricter life for his sake, who hath so mercifully expected this long? Yea Madam replied she, I am content, and more than that, to do any thing else your Ladyship shall appoint for my good. Whereupon she took the Maid and gave her worse apparel than that she ware, and placed her as a Servant in the Hospital; which office she faithfully and piously executed so long as she lived. And the standers by were greatly moved at the accident, concluding all, that infallibly she had the gift of Prophecy, and revelations of things remote, hidden, and future: and now they began more than ever to regard her, while nothing is more specious in the eyes of men, than Gifts of these kinds, and such especia favours from God. But leaving these, let us return to her wont work●… of Charity again, whereof I find no end.  
Although a man would verily have thought, to have seen the profuse largesse of this incomparable Stewardess of Christ, she might well have sat down with what she had already done: Yet as one but now to begin, and who as yet had done nothing to the purpose; she had a good mind with the like bounty, to have disposed to the relief of the poor, the remainder of her portion still in her hands; whereof she was to live and sustain herself: she was so extremely enamoured of that virtue, and so wonderfully affected to the needy and necessitous people. And surely she had done so indeed, had not the Reverend Father and Guide of her soul, her dearest Master, prevented her in taking care for her temporaltyes: and therefore wisely foreseeing and providing for future necessities, forbade her the same with a strict command, making use of the absolute power and authority he had over her; appointing some hard and severe persons to accompany her always, and to observe very diligently all her actions, and to intimate to him and complain of her, if she obeyed not his commandments, to wit, if she were observed to pass her stint assigned her, in dealing alms.  
An order was taken, that if any one had complained of her, she was humbly to come, and take correction for it, both by words and stripes as the matter required; so as sometimes she was smit on the cheeks, in which kind of correction she much rejoiced, remembering the boxes of the ears which Christ had in his passion, especially that same of the Soldier with his armed fist, in the presence of Annas; holding them all as too light in regard of the same; she would have wished their hands more hard and a great deal more heavy to suffer more for his sake, and the love of that special virtue. Which fault when she had once committed, and accordingly been punished, she was commanded to distribute no more than a penny at once to a poor body. Wherein with a pious breach, and yet a literal observance, she so obeyed her Master, as she nevertheless gave reasonable satisfaction to her tender and merciful mind. For now she would give to many, one by one, what she had wont to fewer in greater pieces: Which when her Master once perceived, because she obeyed not his will therein, he forbade her to give any more money, and only permitted her to give Bread, which when she began to deal more bountyfully than he would have her, he restrained her to give pieces of bread only, whereas before she had dealt whole loaves at once to several persons, and so with a wonderful variety, was both Obedience exercised in her, and compassion provoked.  
If she had been commanded at any time to refrain from giving of alms or to meddle with leprous or diseased persons, or else to discharge and dismiss such as she had already▪ it was a wonder to see how upon a sudden, her colour would go and come, as she had verily been in a strange dilemma what to do; When indeed it would be no more but a terrible conflict in herself between the superior and inferior part of her soul, or the sovereign power which Obedience exercised upon her own inclination to communicate her means to the poor, and to pratise such works of piety. So as now and then, she would be in such a perplexity of mind thereat, as the good Father knew not what to do in the case. For one while he feared least the disquiet of her mind she felt therewith might bring her into some inconvenience of her health, which was the thing he doubted so much, by dealing so boldly with such leprous people; otherwhile again he would fear as much, lest her excessive liberality would bring all to naught, and he be blamed for guiding her no better. And lastly otherwhiles but very tenderly he began to suspect her promptness in Obedience, that found such main opposition inthe inferior part of her soul: till weighing the matter with more deliberation, he found it to be rather an emulous strife between two noble and eminent virtues in her: of Charity to the Neighbour, and Charity to God; Piety to the poor, and a perfect Obedience to her Superior. And therefore commending the matter to God from thenceforth he was resolved in those things to leave her to the unction of the Holy Ghost, to inspire and direct her in the best.  
Which liberty, as she perceived to be afforded her from her Master, fearing she had violated the Laws of Obedience, and that her Master had been fain to condescend to her infirmities, she resolved with herself thenceforth, she would be more exact, precise, and punctual, not only to obey him to the letter, but even likewise to the utmost extent of his intention, as near as she was able to interpret the same. Wherein doubtless she made a notable conquest of herself, considering her pious inclination to works of Charity; so to immolate the same on the Altar of Obedience, as she did afterwards. And therefore henceforth she contented herself with such works of Charity only, as were not only, not expressly forbidden her, but likewise such as she might imagine, he intended to include in his prohibitions and injunctions given her. And so she went with her Maids to the Hospital to tend the sick, not infected with leprosy, and washed them, and made their beds for them, and covered them as they lay. And would often say to her Maids whom she made as her fellows in these occasions: How happy are we, Sisters, who have the honour t●… wash our Lord, to tend him so, and to cover him in his bed. Whereto being inflamed with her example, they would answer, Yea; and take great complacence therein, how beyt one of them being somewhat less mortified than the rest, one day gave her this answer, not so pleasing to her; You Lady, it seems can away with this sluttishness, but so cannot we, and other women: which Elizabeth hearing, dissembled the matter, and replied not a word; but we piously believe she laboured not a little, what with prayers, and other means to reclaim her from that coldness and tepidity in the service of God in his weak and feeble members  
Upon a certain Woman great with child and near her time, she bestowed hous-roome and all necessary furniture for her childbirth, and she being delivered of a daughter, newly borne; she caused it to be Christened, and baptised by the name of Elizabeth, and likewise daily visited the woman in childbed, and still carried some good dish of meat or other with her, to comfort her withal. But at length this ingrateful woman being now recovered and brought to a perfect state of health, together with her husband, with one consent, ran quite away from her, leaving their little daughter behind them, to the mercy, of the charitable Matron, taking some part of the furniture with them, that was but lent them for the time only. Whereof when the Servant of God had notice given her, by her Maid whom she had sent unto her, with a good dish of meat; she presently commanded the child to be brought to her, and put it forth to be nursed by a soldier's wife a neighbour by: When sending immediately to the Governor of the City, he caused a diligent search and pursuit to be made for those wretched vagabonds. But when they could not be found, the holy woman betook herself to her prayers, and so caused them shortly to return against their wills, and to beg pardon very humbly on their knees, for their great ingratitude and prodigious impiety: affirming they had been very miserably punished already, in that, through the just judgement of God, they were not able to pass any further, but were constrained in spite of their hearts to return again. The fault was soon pardoned by the blessed woman, with condition to take their child again: and so they were both restored to her favour. But yet in some manner of penance for their heinous delict, she took away from her a cloak which she had given her before, saying: that an injury was so to be pardoned, as the same might not come to be offered any more. Which cloak she presently bestowed on a poor Maid at hand; who through the merits of the Saint, was so i'lumined thereby with the grace of God, as she vowed immediately thereupon, perpetual Virginity, and observed the same to her dying day, leading a most virtuous life.   

THE CHARITY OF Elizabeth to the Neighbour in spiritual mercies: and particularly of her singular gift of Prayer. CHAP. V.  
IT is not enough to have these temporal mercies, in behoof of the poor, if we have not the spiritual works of mercy withal. There are some very apt to put their hands very readily in their purse, to relieve the necessities of the poor. Many who can prodigally enough, lay out very largely upon building of pious houses. And many likewise will spare for no cost, to endow them with Rents very amply, so they may have but the name of Founders only, and have their arms advanced in the Frontispieces thereof: But, to put the hand to the hart to raze out rancour by the roots; to pardon an injury received, to love one's enemy, to do good for i'll, to direct the ignorant and tepid in the way of salvation, being sinners to reconcile them to God, and remaining in grace, to hearten them on to perseverance, and to help them to the use of the Sacraments, and a thousand more of the like kind, and all this for the true Love and Charity of God: How few there are God wot! Alas, how few! in regard of those who do wholly neglect such things.  
But Elizabeth as she was pitiful in all external things belonging to the body: so must you imagine, her zeal to be much more in the spiritual necessities of the soul. Hence it was, t●…at she would earnestly exhort a●… Mothers, after their children were borne, not to differre baptism. For the sick now lying in extremes at the mercy of God, she would carefully persuade and procure them to cleanse their consciences by confession, and to receive their Viatique with the rest of the rights of the Church. And once her zeal carried her so far, as she that otherwise was so meek as to submit herself to any correction, for the least transgression in the world, did beat a woman somewhat handsomely with a wand in her hand, for differing her Confession too long, whereby with stripes, she expelled the spirit of slothfulness, and tepidity from her.  
And for her piety and devotion to holy things, though she honoured the Relics of Saints, with tapers & incense according to the custom of good Christians, piously offering besides the money she had earned herself, with her handy works, most reverently on the Altar. Yet she seemed to mislike those sumptuous Images. And therefore entering once into a Church of Friars professing Poverty, she rebuked them for their excess therein, beholding such curious and exquisite pieces of workmanship there, saying: These had been better bestowed upon the maintenance of the poor, the living images of their Creator, and that the memory of the Saints were rather and better to be honoured with a religions mind, then with all such external ornaments, to insist so much upon them and neglect the other. And to the end, ●…t may appear with what spirit she spoke it, that which she said upon some other occasion is worth the noting; which was this.  
To one who had exceedingly commended an Image there present, both for the excellency of the workmanship; and the rareness and preciousness of the stuff it was made of; She answered, how all that which he praised so much in the image she possessed in her hart, and had it there more lively imprinted and charactered.  
Thus this great Servant of God, being endowed with so rare and excellent virtues, faithfully executed the office of Martha, Yet so you may imagine as she omitted not the while the Contemplative, and quiet life of Mary. For when she was not busyed about the external works of Charity; and the care of her house, she ordinarily repaired to a certain solitary place, where falling with her knees on the ground, and lifting up her eyes, hands, and hart to heaven, she would pray prolixly for diverse hours together with extraordinary devotion and feeling, and not without great plenty of tears, wherein she had a 〈◊〉 singular gift from God. For as she wept she disfigured not her face a whitt as others are wont, through excess of dolour, but with a cheerful and pleasant countenance testified and expressed comforts and great consolations the while. And the tears she let fall in her latter times, were accompanied rather with smiles then sighs, or groans, so as she seemed to weep, rather than to grieve and lament. And no marvel, for her countenance upon no occasion of misfortune would ever change or alter a whitt, but always keep the same tenor of chearefullnes and serenity with it.  
Nor may we imagine she arrived to this so high perfection of Prayer at once, but ascended thereto by certain degrees. For first, she only began to have a lively desire of perfection and Love of God. Secondly, she stirred up and excited herself to attain this perfection with acts of desire and Love, and from sighs even fetched from the inward of the hart still craving of our Lord this perfection and love. Thirdly she had a continual watch upon all her thoughts, words, and works, not to offend and displease God in whatsoever, being still present to herself in all affairs, & not suffering her hart to be carried and distracted with them. Fourthly, she would deal very really indeed to obtain Virtues, practising and exercising some acts of them in particular things, nor ever ceased till she had gotten a facility and habit in them. Fiftly, she would take her sustenance and corporal food very sparingly, no more than would serve to maintain life, & to comply with her necessary obligations; but herein she would not be too extreme but ruled and guided by her Master's direction, especially after she had once submitted herself to his Obedience. Sixtly, she attended with great care to the mortification of her disordinate affections, and in particular to the abnegation of herself and her Will and inclinations good or ill, wherein as I have said above, she found any difficulty; as in the points of dealing alms more profusely than she ought, and doing some special mortifications she affected most, to wit, with meddling with lepers to the hazard of her health, and the like. Seaventhly, she had her interior & exterior powers exceedingly recollected, and especially her five senses, that they might not be scattered and dispersed on creatures. And for her thoughts, and memory, likely she would busy and employ them in the Meditation of the Last things, and of the judgements of God.  
Lastly, she would put before her eyes the imitation of the Life of our Saviour Christ, and his Saints; conforming her life as much as she could with their lives, in doing sharp penances as they: discovering her soul entirely to her Master, or spiritual Guide, not concealing any thing either good or bad, which she did not manifest to him: that she might be the more secure from all illusions and deceits of the common enemy. She held with herself a certain norm●…, rectitude, and equality in her life and actions, and the same she would keep with others. Her thoughts were always of the shortness of this life, and how the same continually went drawing to its end▪ for which cause it behoved her to go with a continual watch and examen upon all her life and actions, walking ever in perpetual prayer in the presence of God: all which proceeded from her much retirement as from a river and fountain. And this prayer she would usually make of the mysteries of the Life, Passion, and Death of our Redeemer, whence her soul would receive particular light of the verities and mysteries of our holy Faith, & illustrations and sovereign feelings, which she concealed and discovered not to any but her Master. By which prayer likewise her soul came to have a chaste fear of God, not to offend him in aught whatsoever, and a great oblivion, neglect, and contempt of herself, attributing never any thing to herself, but wholly to God.  
By these degrees as so many steps as it were Elizabeth mounted to the height of perfection, and many times she was in rapts, being ravished in spirit, for certain hours, and taken with an ecstasy, wherein she enjoyed the company of Angels, & many times beheld and heard even JESUS himself, the sovereign comfort and amiable delight of all men, environed round with millions of Saints. When returning to her senses again, she would plainly declare, what comforts she had received, what delights she enjoyed, and what virtues she procured. Besides that her face, as we read of Moses, would shine very bright, by reason of the rays which commonly were directed towards her, and had so thoroughly illumined her hart, as the abundant Charity, being not able to contain itself within those bounds, even shined through her countenance itself as if it had been the window of the hart. These things when they happened to her (as often they did) being so glutted as she was with spiritual delights, made her to refrain a long time from all manner of food, or else ●…o use the same very sparingly, and never but when mere necessity required.   

HOW ELIS ABETH FELL sick, the manner of her sickness: and of the happy end which she made. CHAP. VI  
BLessed are the Dead who die in our Lord; As it was heard by a voice that came from heaven, because what works they wrought in this life, shall accompany them in their death: And to a good life is properly due a good death. Besides it is an evident rule in Philosophy, how in all both natural and supernatural things, beginning, medium▪ and end have a great conformity with them. And so surely was it in the life and Death of this great Servant of Christ. For you shall understand, how this his blessed Servant, having spent many years in that manner we have related, the time of her departure forth of this Vale of tears now drawing near, her dearest Spouse Christ in a comfortable manner appeared to her in a gracious & glorious sort, with a sweet and amiable countenance saying unto her. Come my sweet Spouse, whom I have chosen, and possess the heavenly Bride-chamber, which I have ordained and appointed for thee, before the creation of the world. Whereat Elizabeth being replenished with unspeakable joy, not able hardly to contain herself with the sight of this so comfortable a Vision, according to her custom in such cases (for she was frequently favoured with such like Visits and graces from heaven) went presently to visit her Master, to give him account of what had happened unto her, who at the time as it chanced lay very sick in his bed, and when after some discourses between them, of mortality, and the manifold casualtyes of this life, of the vanity of the world, of the uncertainty of Death, and yet the most certain infallibility thereof, discoursing somewhat of the occasion of his infirmity, as usually they are wont, and of the excesses and remissions he had of his whole sickness, not without some doubt of his recovery again: he fell at last upon the point, what course she would take, if God (as he feared not a little) should call him thence, and take him away out of this world. To whom the reverend Matron answered. God Master, I trust for all this, your Reverence is like to live many days yet longer, for the comfort of others, to whom your life, no doubt is necessary for the glory of God. But as for me, dear Master, I have no fear, but your life will be sufficient for my be●…oofe, and so particularly gave him a faithful relation of what had happened to her in all points. After which, the good Father recovered speedily, and she within four days after, began to complain somewhat of an indisposition of body, and the malady prevailing by little and little, she was forced to yield to keep her bed, retaining her hart still fixed in heavenly things, and always inflamed with the Love of God.  
While one of her Maids, sat on a time by her bed side, where she lay, behold, quite contrary to the manner of the sick, she did hear her sing m●…st sweetly, and tune her notes most artificiously, according to the rules of Music, the Maid was attentive to all, not ima●…ining her Lady had been so 〈◊〉 a Musician, to descant so curiously as she did, not remembering she had ever heard her sing any other than the Hymns and Canticles of the Church as there they are toned, or else some other spiritual songs in time of her spinning, and such lik●… works though sweet and tuneable yet pain & void of art: & being in this thought her Lady called upon her, and said to her. Where art thou Daughter; when her Maid answering; here Lady, presently added, saying: Good Madam, how your Ladyship delighted mine ears with your music and ditty you sang even now. To whom Elizabeth; Herd you me sing then? Yea truly Madam, replied the Maid, I heard it to my great comfort.  
When by and by the Saint declared unto her, how a certain little Bird sent from heaven sat between her and the wall, and with sundry streynes of most sweet music, made her such heavenly melody that howbeit her body were so weak as she saw, she could not refrain from singing as well as she might. The bird, now it seemed, the Maid heard not, but only the voice of her sick Lady: by which she concluded, it must needs be the music of some Angel from heaven, come thither to solace her languishing spirits through force of the malady, and that they had held as a Choir between them, of two several sides, though she heard but one. The third day before her death, desiring to be solitary, she willed that as many as came to visit her might be excused their labour and such as were present to void the Chamber, and none s●…ffered to enter into the room. The cause being required of the nearest about her, she answered. My desire is to be rid of the tumults and noises of this world, because I would give myself to remember my judge and the dreadful account I am shortly to make. She was obeyed, and even the very day before her departure, she made to her Master, a general confession of her whole life. And by her last Will, made Christ, in the Poor, her sole ●…eyre; reserving only ●…o herself a certain old gown, wherein she wished to be buried, not taking any other care for the solemnity of her funerals. Shortly after, she received the blessed Sacrament and Extreme Unction, and the rest of the day and night she spent in such fervours of spirit, as well showed the Guest she had received into her, saving. Dismiss now thy handmaid, O Lord, according to thy word in peace. Now do I h●…ld thee sweet Love, and I will hold thee still, and now most freely I bid adieu to the world, and all earthly things. Now joyful do I come to thee my God. Nor shall any thing henceforth: O my good JEUS sever me from thee: for I am joined to thee o Christ, I will live in thee, and dye in thee, and ●…ll remain in thee if thou wilt, eternally.  
When she had made this prayer, she concluded and fell upon a large discourse, how Christ went to visit Mary and Martha in their mourning for their Brother's death, how he sweetly comforted them, how he reared their hopes with his firm promise, how they went altogether to the monument, and finally how he shed tears, in testimony of his inward and tender compassion. And here now entering upon this passage, into a deep and profound discourse of so worthy a subject, to the great astonishment and admiration of all there present, her affects of the tears of Christ were so effectual, so urgent, so inflamed, and so piercing, even to the bottom of their hearts, as made them all to weep most tenderly, being strucken to the hart, and grieved, that she was to leave them, and they to be deprived of so holy and so gracious a Mother.  
To whom Elizabeth turning herself, said. Good Christians weep not for me, but rather for yourselves. And more she uttered not, but they heard a most sweet and delicious harmony, without any motion of her lips, and yet as a voice proceeding from her. And when the company enquired what that singing was, she answered. It was I who sung as well as I could, to those who first did sing to me, and seem to invite me to it, whom I wonder you heard not likewise as well as I. By which they gathered all, as well they might, how the 〈◊〉 a ●…ayting for her soul, now near t●…e solution from the prison of her body; sung unto her with such heavenly melody, and provoked her so to sing with them. Anon after, about midnight, looking towards them who sat round about her: What should we do, said she, if the Enemy of Mankind, should appear unto us▪ and presently cried out with a confidence, as if now she beheld him▪ and would drive him away thence, appearing in some horrible shape or other, saying aloud. Avaunt thou miserable Wretch, hence I say thou accursed Caitiff. And so it vanished whatsoever it was, for she spoke no more of it.  
Being soon after at the point of death, she said. This is the time of the Virgin's Delivery, and of the immaculate fruit of the Virginal womb; which puts us in mind to speak some what of the little sweet Babe Igsus, how he was borne in the Winter, in the night, & in an other man's house, swathed in Clouts, and laid in a Crib, how he was found by the Sheaphards', manifested by a star, & lastly, how he was worshipped and adored by the Chaldeys. For these are the mysteries of our Redemption, these the worthy gifts and ornaments of our riches. In these consists our hope, in these our Faith increaseth, and our Charity is inflamed: I pray you then my friends let us confer of these matters, and freely talk thereof one with an other to our great consolation. And so the blessed Servant of God in speaking those words, laid softly her head down, as if she would sleep, and quietly rendered up her soul, and departed this life.   

THE FUNERAL OFFICES of the glorious Elizabeth, are piously performed: With a touch only of her singular virtues. CHAP. VII.  
THE piety of the Lyving towards the dead, in the care they have generally of their funerals and burial, according to the use and custom of the Church, is laudable & much commended in Sacred Writ, as One of the Works of mercy, and so pleasing to God, that he not only rewards the pious affect wherewith they commit them to the common Mother the Earth, but even rigorously punisheth those who presume to violate the corpse of the buried, or disturb their Sepulchers.  
When the departure of Elizabeth then was known and voiced abroad, it was a wonder straight to behold, how many Religious Monks and Priests, and poor people had recourse to her funeral service. Where the poor so filled the eyes and ears of all there present with mourning gestures and clamorous outcries; as made all the rest to weep who saw them, affirming all with one accord, they had lost a merciful Mother in their great extremity, & their only friend and surest refuge on earth, that now they had no more help or succour left them, since they knew not whither to go for relief, or whither to fly for comfort in distress. The burial of this sacred body, was diferred until the fourth day after, by reason of the incredible concourse of devout people who flocked thither from all parts. Nor moved it any horror awhit, to see her face, head, and hands bare (it being the custom there to bury in their habits,) since besides the paleness they had, there was nothing ghastly or hideous in them, the same softness and tenderness of flesh remaining still which was before, yielding to the least touch of the fingar.  
There might you have seen every one to strive what possibly they might, to get something of hers, to keep as a Relic (and which is more) to cut off any thing whatsoever they could light on, some a lock or tress of the hair of her head, and some one thing, & some an other; and many, the skirts of the course & homely habit she ware, which they highly prized as excellent pieces of inestimable worth, and after many devout kisses, laid them up with great reverence. There was beside, a wonderful sweet and odoriferous savour, which filled every one with great devotion, as likely such fragrant smells in those occasions use to do. Neither was there any at that time, that could complain of any noisome or ill sent; but was as if a box of precious ointments and perfumes had been spilt in the place; and not a human corpse exposed to view.  
And no marvel, the body should send forth such an odour of perfumes, whose soul during her life, perfumed so the world, with the odour of her Virtues, and now much more the heavens, with the savour of her sanctity. 
L. 6. the bell. jud c. 6.  Whom I may say Almighty God was pleased on earth to set up as an Altar of Thymiama, framing a ball of aromatical spices of all the most excellent virtues that were as enkindled in the Thurible of her hart, to breathe the air of a more than ordinary sanctity from her. Which josephus saith, in those days, was wont to be made of thirteen species of the fragrant and odoriferous things fetched from divers parts of the world. And so we may imagine in the Altar of the memory of this Saint, this mixture and composition to be of no less than thirteen special virtues, which shined in this Servant of God, in diverse occasions and passages of her life: As first, a Charity and Lone of God, and the Neighbour for his sake, which she had so vehemently inflamed in her, as she seemed to be quite exhaled, being always so employed in the acts of his Love, as she had continually a burning furnace of the Love of God in her breast: And for the Love of the Neighbour, it was so great, as none could ever find in her, but bowels fraught with a tender love and feelings of their case. The second Spice, a most profound Humility in her, which was so great, as before her Superior, especially her Master, she was as an Infant: For with how much Humility would she hear others speak of spiritual matters, yea even her Maids, to whom otherwise she was a Mistress, and they her scholars. And for her exercise of abject things, as appears in her life, she was wholly in them. The third aromatic Spice, was a rare Obedience in her, whereof though I might allege many examples, that of conquering herself, in so difficult a point, as we have written, may stand for many; where she resigned herself, and refrained from certain pious things forbidden by her Master. The Fourth, was a high and most sublime Prayer, wherein through the Gift of God she proceeded so far as would require a special treatise to set it down. This only, that dwelling first as it were in Foraminibus Petrae, and always digging in the wounds of her Saviour in his Passion, she attained at last the highest points of Contemplation, and was frequently rapt in spirit, as we have said, where she saw such things as were not to be told. The fifth, was a continual interior and exterior Mortification of her Senses and passions. For immediately in her actions, would appear how present she was to herself. And what a martyrdom there was in her proper will, which God alone could throughly know. The sixth was her Purity and Chastity, which was so great that with her only aspect, composition of the eyes, modesty of her countenance, and her whole motions and gestures, she seemed to excite efficatious desires of that Virtue in others, The Seaventh, was her extrame Poverty, while no curious 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 hardly necessary, were to be found in her Chamber. For how little curiosity had she in her habits and apparel, neat indeed and well put on, but homely, course, and poor, and very rarely or never would she put on any thing which was new, but ordinarily what others had used before. The Eight, was her singular Patience. For she had suffered very great and grievous pressures and afflictions. both interior and exterior in the whole course of her life: in all which, her countenance was ever serene, and she without any murmurs and complaints, holding it still for a singular grace and favour from God to suffer for innocency sake. The Ninth, an extraordinary Temperance in speech and conversation with others, whereby she would never contradict any, either with or against reason, were they Superior, equal, or inferior, conforming herself always to the judgement of an other, if it were not sin. Nor would ever excuse herself, though with reason she 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 she were not bound thereunto. The Tenth, a notable Contempt of herself, whereby she desired to be held ignorant of all, that she might be wise in the sight of God: and this in what she might without the hurt of the Neighbour or offence of God, that so contemning those terrene things she might gain the celestial and eternal. The Eleaventh, an ardent desire of greater perfection. For she supposed the going not forward in the way of virtue, was no less than turning back. And therefore she endeavoured with might and main, to advance forward, remitting never any good devotion she once undertook with good deliberation. The Twelfth, an amorous affection to the Cross of Christ, which she would always be taking up, with four arms or branches to it. The first, 〈◊〉 perfect mortification of all vices. Secondly, a renouncing of all temporal goods. Thirdly, a neglect of carnal affections as of friends, parents, and country. And lastly, an utter contempt of the world in all things else. The thirteenth and last aromatical Spice, was a diffidence of herself, imagining still that howbeit she might seem to have done many notable things to the honour and glory of God, and the great benefit of the poor, which was singular and most extraordinary in her, yet held she herself as unprofitable merely, and good for naught, and verily believed, they were all better than she, and none so wicked as herself; considering the favours which God continually had showed her. And these were her thirteen aromatical spices of virtues, which sent forth such an odour of example on earth; and such a perfume of sanctity to the Citizens of heaven.  
Now by this time being the fourth day after, when the rites of the Church were ended, with great solemnity, pomp, and magnificence according to her dignity, in the presence of many worthy religious Fathers, with an incredible multitude of all sorts of people, as well of the Clergy as Laity; the precious body was honourably interred, in a certain Chapel belonging and adjoining to her Hospital, to the great resentment of all, who would willingly have enjoyed her still, had it been convenient.   

THE CANONIZATION of Saint Elizabeth: the Translation of her Body: and the beginning of the relation of her miracles. CHAP. VIII.  
So precious is the death of Saints in the 
Psal. 15. Orat. in 4●…. Mart.  sight of God: that, (as Saint Basil testifyes) as heretofore who touched but the bones of a dead body, ws held contaminated: So now on the contrary, who toucheth the bones or other Relics of some Saint, may receive some operative virtue from them, and 〈◊〉 our Lord would have such bones removed & divided into sundry places, that they might be as a fortress or Citadel against our enemies, and an honour to the faithful themselves. If you demand of me (saith S. Ambrose) what I worship in the bones 
Con●…. Amb. l. 4 c. 2. de San.  and relics of these Saints: I answer, in the body of each Saint, I reverence the wounds, which he hath received for Christ, I worship his memory, who led his life, always embracing virtue: I venerate the ashes consecrated through the confession of his Lord; and even in the ashes themselves, I worship the seed of eternity: I worship the body who hath instructed me to love God, to please him, and not to fear death. And why should not the faithful honour the body, which even the Devils themselves do tremble at? For whom alive they afflicted with Crosses, they owe love and reverence in the Sepulchre. Lastly, I worship that body, which our Lord Christ hath honoured in this world, and whose soul is now reigning with 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉uen.  
Now these titles, motives, and benefits, proceeding from the veneration and worship of the Relics of Saints, is the cause why no sooner any dies with the opinion of a Saint, especially averred so, by authentical approbation of his Holiness, through that illustrious ceremony of Canonization, used in the Church, but that generally the faithful do throng to his Shrine or Hearse to obtain some Relic of his, be it the very hair of his head or the least piece of his garment, which having gotten, they piously make reckoning they have gained a most precious and inestimable jewel. No marvel theh, that our glorious Elizabeth, being so illustrious through the most holy life she had led on earth, and the undoubted opinion she had purchased, of a Saint even during life, but that the people should flock so unto her, as they daily did, as to a merciful 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in his Court of Requests, to receive the humble petitions of all that come, where hardly she sent any empty away, contristat, and not satisfied some way or other. So as it is commonly reported, that she raised some sixteen at'least from death to life; & cleansed the leprous, gave hearing to the deaf, speech to the dumb, 〈◊〉 to the lame, eyes to the blind, and comfort to the miserable and afflicted; and curing all manner of diseases else whatsoever without number.  
All which miracles Siffrid Bishop of Mogunce caused to be authentically proved, and sent them to Gregory the Ninth then Pope, who after diligent debate of so weighty a cause, with the College of Cardinals in the presence of the Patriarches of Jerusalem and Antioch, and sundry Bishops; and after a solemn and magnificent Procession had, on the 27. of May, being then the Feast of Pentecost, canonised Elizabeth at a high Mass in all his Pontificalibus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 red as a Saint, in the universal Church, in the fourth year after her happy decease, in the house of the Friars Dominicans in the City of Perugia, where he dedicated an Altar, which he erected to her honour, & enriched with ornaments, endowing it with privileges convenient, as Popes are accustomed to do in like cases. Which solemnity being stately and very honourably performed, and the fame thereof universally spread through all the parts of Germany, the aforesaid Bishop Siffrid to the great joy and iubiley of all the people of what condition soever, assigned a certain day for the solemn Translation of the blessed bones into the City of Marpurg, where he assembled all the States spiritual and temporal of both the dominions of Thuringia and Hassia, and the principal Pastors of many other Churches beside.  
At the day appointed, to such as weigh not the devotion of the people to this admirable Saint, it may seem incredible to estimate the number of men and women of all estates and callings who repaired to Marpurg, where the Shrine was opened, and the sacred bones discovered in the presence of Frederick the Emperor, offering a crown of gold to the Relics, attended by a most honourable company of Princes, Lords, and Gentry, besides the Bishops of Mentz, Cullen, and bream, and many other remarkable Prelates of other Churches, and Heads of Religious houses. Neither was there (as I said before also in the Translation) any manner of i'll savour at all, as in other dead bodies is usually had, but as it had been a chest of balm and most precious perfumes, it breathed forth a most pleasing and delicious odour, to the great astonishment and unspeakable content of all who approached to participate thereof.  
Then were the Relics safely enclosed again in a leaden Coffer, and the same very softly included in a precious casket of most curious workmanship, besides the stuff▪ which I could not learn by reason the enamel had so disguised the same: being carefully sealed up with the signet of the Bishop himself, and carried in solemn pomp, through the midst of the multitude of the people there greedily waiting for them, with incredible affection and devotion. There you might see the windows hung with Tapistryes, all replenished with Ladies and Gentlewomen, exceedingly moved with veneration at the sight of the sacred Pledge as it passed along, the rest being fain to stay beneath, or get such standings as they could on tops of houses, towers, and steeples every where, where likewise you might discover the Ecclesiastical ensigns carried along in that Procession, the Canons in their Copes, and Choristers, and the rest of the Chanters in their c●…ates singing Alleluya, like so many Angels come from heaven to converse with men, and to grace the present solemnity. Finally, and which was strange in such a world of people, you might there observe a deep silence, more like to the solitude of a desert, then so great an assembly of so populous a City and Country round about, all whist for the time; so attentive they were to their sacred sight or spectacle of their dearest depositum; nor should I think there was an eye, that stood not to the brim in tears of joy, and devotion at once; for now sorrow all was exiled with the confidence they had in so great a Patroness of their City. And here behold the first primitias of the future wonders which I shall relate.  
The next day, when by order and direction of the Bishop, with great reverence, the Chest wherein the body was deposed, was opened again, a marvellous thing it was, to see how the bones of this bountyful and charitable Matron as living she had always been most munificent and liberal to the poor, with the goods of fortune wherewith she was endowed, exhausting her temporal substance in their behoof; so now showing mercy likewise to the sick and infirm, even after death, she distilled no less her very marrow and substance; her bones as it were resolving into oil, the truest symbol of mercy; yssuing forth sweat and trickled down by drops on every side of the Casket; which as many as were there present, might well perceive; who piously receiving it as it flowed, and reserving it for the sick, thereby cured all those whom they anointed therewith.  
The second miracle happened before the bones were ever translated, as is for certain registered from the parties own report, to whom it happened, and confirmed by oath. That a certain Monk of the Order of the Cisterce, having been grievously tormented for the space of forty years together with a trembling of the hart; and using all the means that possibly he could, with the furtherance of Superiors for remedy▪ in vain, and now wholly despairing of humane helps: at last, hasting to the Sepulchre of S. Elizabeth not without good faith and confidence, through her merits to obtain his health, was immediately by touch of the shrine wherein she lay, most perfectly cured.  
It is likewise manifest by the constant asseveration of a certain Nobleman by birth and by Ecclesiastical dignity, yet more conspicuous in the world, who had no reason to double and affirm a falsehood of himself in such a case, that he with tears at last and with most indicative signs of contrition and compunction of hart, renounced and bewailed his lascivious affections and lewd life, wherein till then he had long continued still impenitent, by the only visiting and touching the said Saint Elizabeth's shrine: which he steadfastly affirmed to the Reverend Father Conrade, the aforesaid Master of the said Saint, in his Confession to him. Which by his free leave to the greater honour of God and the said Saint; he sets down in writing as a thing authentically averred.  
But now, because I will not oppress my Reader, with the relation of all which I could set down, that come into my knowledge of these kinds of miracles, which are, notwithstanding as I hear, but the least parcel only of the infinite multitude she hath wrought after her Translation since that time I think good to select some of the chiefest and most principal of them in an other Chapter, for the purpose: admonishing him the while, that what I shall here recount is most irrefragably averred, and shall therefore, I trust, not need any more asseuerations thereof to enforce belief, since what is written in this kind, is meant for the obedient, and ready wills within the Church; for with the others who remain without, in things of this nature, what have we to do, whom if an Angel come from heaven can not persuade to believe miracles, what should we do?   

A CONTINUATION OF THE miracles wrought at the Shrine of S. Elizabeth after the Translation of her Body. CHAP. IX.  
THe first we shall set down, is an evident proof and undoubted confirmation of Pilgrimages and vows, and may serve as an apt proëm to the rest that follow: and this it was. There was a Monk, whose name was Henry, of the aforesaid Order of Ciste●…cians, who day and night was grievously afflicted and tormented with a pain, which I find not expressed any where, yet so excessive and intolerable it seems, as with his cries and groans he moved his Brethren to compassion of his case: While lo, upon a certain night above the rest, a comely and beautiful Lady appeared to him apparelled all in white, and persuaded him to make his vow to S. Elizabeth, if ever he intended to be cured of his malady: Which he delaying yet to do, the same Lady as before, appeared to him again the next night, and used the same persuasion she had done in the night before. Then he in the absence of he Abbot and Prior who were then from home at that time, consulted with his immediate Superior, and so very formally made his vow: When lo, the next night, the same Woman appeared again, making the sign of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Cross upon him, whereat presently he found himself to be perfectly cured. Which when the Abbot and Prior perceived, at their return, they wondered much to see him so recovered, but yet approved not his vow because indeed they said: That Monks by illusion of the common Enemy are sometimes moved to evil, under a fair pretence of good, while Satan now and then for ends of his, will transfigure himself into an Angel of light. Especially knowing well that no Monk had power of himself alone to make a vow; & therefore it were better, & more secure for him to make his Confession excusing himself of the wow, & commit his soul to God, and his body to the Monastery. Then the fourth time the same Woman appeared to him, and told him that if he delayed to perform the Vow he had made, he should presently relapse into his former disease, and his torments should endure so long, till he were fully resolved to fulfil his promise. Which threats, the lamentable effect ensued, and then the Monk at last obtained leave and went his Pilgrimage, and was so recovered thereof, as that after he had once accomplished his Vow, he was never molested more with the like disease.  
The second, shall be a good adm●…nishment to such as begin well and not persevere, & having made their vows and performed them, finding no present remedy, give over their devotions straight, and fall into diffidence and pusianimity, whereby they miss of their purposes, and discourage others to attempt or regard their vows so made: And this it is.  
In the Diocese of Traiect, was one Theodorick apt to be moved on every occasion to great devotion, whereby in his fervours, finding himself in a great extremity for want of the use of one of his hands being withered, to follow his worldly occasions, he made a Pilgrimage two several times to S. 〈◊〉 at Marp●…rge, to gain the use of his said hand, where visiting her Shrine at both those times, and finding no help thereof, began to be out of hart, and to loose courage, but yet exciting himself, adventured to go once more, to make a further trial of the benignity of the Saint; when being on his way at that time with more confidence than before, there met him, a comely, grave, and venerable old man, and exceedingly well spoken, who asked him, whither he was going, to whom he answered, he intended to go to Marpurg, there to visit S. Elizabeth's Shrine, whereupon he wished God to bless him, and bade him go on a God's name, assuring him he should infallibly obtain his suit, and receive his health, by putting but his hand into her Sepulchre. And further willed him ever after, to honour and bear devotion also to Saint Nicolas: Adding that such were ill advised and most unwise, who seeking help at the Relics of Saints (according to the laudable custom of good Christians,) and having performed their vows in part, depart presently discouraged and disheartened; when they find not such speedy remedy, as they desire; Since perseverance in prayer, and faith, is that which God and his Saints exact in such occasions. And when he had said this, he vanished away: and the other as he was wished, when he arrived at the Shrine, thrusting his hand in the Monument was presently cured. This man no doubt was S. Nicolas himself; by which we may learn what Charity and fair correspondencyes, there is, among the Saints in heaven; and thereby take example to have the like also among ourselves on earth.  
Besides the former two exaples of the benignity of this Saint, I find a third, no less miraculous, & which shows her excellent Charity now in heaven, & her great longanimity, in condescending so sweetly to our infirmities; for who would expect, for murmurs uttered, such favours should come and descend from heaven, and for words little less than blasphemies, at least the affect of extraordinary impatience, so great a miracle should ensue. It happened then in the Territory of Mentz, that one Beatrice a young Girl, was soarely vexed with many infirmities at once, wherewith she had a long time of that little she had lived, most piteously been tormented; so as at last, having a terrible swelling in her throat growing out before her, and a huge bunch which much deformed her, on her back behind, thus molested with a double malady and impediment, she was fain to creep with her head even bowed to the ground, and her hand fast joined to her knees, moving 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…arts of all that beheld so miserable a spectacle. What then was to be done, the Mother hereupon causing her to be carried in a great basket on the shoulders of some Potter hired for the purpose, and conveyed her to the Tomb of S. Elizabeth, where she remained for ten days space without any succour at al. Which the Mother took most sensibly to the hart, falling into great intemperance of speech, seasoned with much impatience, as well in gestures as in words; saying thus foolishly among the rest. What mean you S. Elizabeth to bestow your Charity upon every one, and to leave me only of all other most disconsolate & devoid of comfort, who am thus visited with so miserable a cross without remedy: and therewithal in a great chafe, went her ways home again, threatening she would hinder all she could, from making any prayers or petitions to her: When the night following, a comely Matron appeared to the Child, and stroking very gently her throat together with her back, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 walk, who presently being thus restored to her health, told her Mother next morning what she had seen in her sleep, which caused them both to return to the Shrine again, to yield her there immortal thanks for so great a miracle; which having rendered, she gave laudes and infinite praises unto God, and leaving their basket behind them, as a testimony of the wonder, they returned very joyfully home again.  
I may not here let pass some brief touches at least of diverse other miracles beside, which happened at the Shrine of this glorious Saint. As first, of a cet●…aine Maid in the Diocese of Mentz, possessed with an evil spirit, who with only eating a little holy bread at her Shrine, and drinking a little holy water, was dispossessed. Secondly, of an other in the Diocese of Cullen, who being condemned to death, and calling earnestly upon the blessed S. Elizabeth, after he was hanged so long as he might well have died, was found to be alive to the great asto●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Thirdly, of a Scholar in the Diocese of Mentz, who being drowned by chance, as he was a fishing, was, by the instance of some friends of his there present craving the help of S. Elizabeth, restored to life again. Fourthly of an other child of four years' 〈◊〉, in the same Diocese, who after undoubted signs of death, was by the prayers of his Mother to Saint Elizabeth, restored to life again. Fif●…ly, of an other child of the same age, who falling into a deep pit and killed, was restored to life again, by one who passing by, most affectuously prayed to S Elizabeth for him. Sixtly, in the same Diocese of Mentz, one Frederick in swimming in a River being drowned, was, by a vow to S. Elizabeth made by his friends, restored to life again. Seaventhly, one john in the same Diocese of Mentz, being wrongfully condemned to death and recommending himself, with the rope about his neck, to the glorious S. Elizabeth, and hearing a voice at that time, which said: Trust to S. Elizabeth, and thou shalt be delivered, being turned 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, was saved by the breaking of the halter, without any harm at all saying: Most merciful Lady S. Elizabeth ●…hou hast delivered me, and by consent of all was hanged no more. Eightly in the Territory of the said Mentz, was one Voliner a religious man who being ●…ame of a bruised arm, and commen●…ing himself to S. Elizabeth, was by her ●…n the night with a soft and gentle touch in the i'll affected place, perfectly ●…ured of the hurt. Ninthly, in the same Territory was a child of four years old, through the prayers of his Mother, being brought to the tomb of S Elizabeth, cured of his blindness, with a little of the earth thereof, applied ●…hereunto. Tenthly in the same Territory was Gertrude a very Cripple of both her legs, who being advised to ●…oe to Saint Nicolas, found ease of the ●…ne but not a perfect cure of both, till ●…he touched S. Elizabeth's tomb, they both ●…iuiding as it were the cure between ●…hē. The Eleaventh miracle was shew●…d upon an other Gertrude in the same 〈◊〉 who being blind, was restored 〈◊〉 her light, by her intercession made ●…o the same S. Elizabeth. The Twelfth, appeared in one Henry of the said Diocese, who by visiting Saint Elizabeth's Tomb, was first cured of his blindness, and then after, of a desperate disease, by taking in his drink, the dust only of the said Tomb. The Thirteenth miracle was, of one Mechildis a girl of the Territory of Trevers, both blind, deaf, dumb, and lame, who after her Parents had made a vow to visit Saint Elizabeth's Relics, was perfectly restored to health. All which is most true and authentically registered in writing. The fourteenth, was a woman in the same Territory of Trevers, who being blind a whole year, and praying to Saint Elizabeth, and led to her Tomb, received there the sight of one of her eyes, but the other was not restored her until she returned home, where the blessed Saint Elizabeth appeared to her in the night, and wished her to go to the Altar, and desire one to move the air towards her, with the silk veil where the Body of Christ, was wont to be placed, which being done, she received the benefit of both her eyes. Finally to conclude this relation of the admirable Miracles of this great S. Elizabeth; I will finish the same with one, of an other Theoderick in the Diocese of the said Mentz, and because I will not trouble the Reader with the recital of any more, I will express the same more at large as I find it. This Theodorick then being lame of both his legs, made a vow to visit S. Elizabeth, and arriving thither, partly by creeping, and partly through the help of other men, not having remedy thereof in a whole months space, returned homewards again as leisurely as he went thither, and being yet in his way, and sleeping by the sides of an other, as infirm and diseased as himself, thought verily in the night some water had been poured upon him, and waking thereupon, complained of his fellow, as one who had cast some water upon him in his sleep. But he discreetly conjecturing the thing, as in truth it happened, denied the same, persuading him▪ there was something else in the matter, more than he perhaps would imagine, and therefore advised him to arise and try whether happily he could walk or Noah. When behold a marvelous thing, he, who went so lame to bed, arose very sound & whole, so as laying aside his crutches, whereas before he was wont to bear & sustain himself with them, he could now carry them lustily, as he did to the Tomb of the Saint; which done, he returned home to his friends very joyful of the benefit received, nor ever ceased to magnify God in this Great Saint.   

A TABLE COLLECTED of the eminent virtues and perfections of S. Elizabeth, concluding with a prayer to the Saint. CHAP. X.  
Such as could not praise and magnify the Emperors of Rome enough, when they entered in triumph into that stately City, the Paradise of the delights of the world, after they had atcheived some notable enterprise in conquests of the Enemies of their Country; Would strew on their heads whole handfuls of Roses and Lillies, and a deluge of flowers, for an amorous testimony of the joy and good will they bore them, and an iudicative argument of the great applauses for their heroical victories obtained. Now after this great Princess Elizabeth, a Saint among the greatest Saints, and still a Princess amongst Saints, hath made her entrance, no less in triumph into the heavenly and celestial Jerusalem, after the taming of those hellish monsters, the world, the flesh, and the Devil, the professed enemies of that heavenly Country; I now, not better able to express my zeal, come throwing after her, those little handfuls of the roses of her virtues, and Lillies of perfection, which I could pick up here and there, of her own scattering in the world, which she so prodigally hath left behind her. In testimony of the joy likewise of my hart, for the glittering rays sheenow is darting forth among those stars of the Emperyal heavens. Psaphon having got together many little birds taught them only these few words: Psaphon is a God: after which affording them the air and liberty; these little spirits of birds, flying through the Universe; repeating the lesson they had learned, spread, and dilated every where the glory of their Master, causing the world to hold him as a God. All these little Essays of praises which I have here amassed together with my hand, have learned all the name of S. Elizabeth, and can say: Elizabeth is a great Saint: which being once diwlged & spread abroad, shall invite all the brave spirits of the world to acknowledge her as such, and to admire and implore her intercession. Rash as I am, alas, what do I attempt? I must confess I am too rash herein, to go about thus to engage myself, within this labyrinth whence there is no means to get forth again. For what appearance is there, I should ever once make good what I have promised here and taken on me. I will yet venture since I am got in, God and his Saint I trust, will assist me in it, and if all fail, I shall suffer wrackin a goodly Sea, where shipwreck were no loss, but rather to be wished for, while it were no better then to lose one's self in her praises, & to show how boundless & immense, the Ocean of her virtues, and perfections were, the thing I principally affect.  
Hitherto I have gone like a faithful Truchman, or Interpreter; I may say likewise, and say not amiss, like an Ambassador who can say no more than what he finds in his Commission, wherein he must look, to be punctual, while he puts on the person of such an one; after which discharged, he is not debarred, to speak more freely of his own. He may, if he will, fall into his Master's praises, and speak what of him he ingenuously thinks, without impeachment to his charge or office. So hitherto have I been a faithful Historian of the Life of this Saint, wherein I would not exceed the bounds of a modest Relator of the truth; what I find precisely delivered by other Historians, and recommended to posterity each one in their ways. But now that I have discharged it; and all this while taken that person on me, not exceeding my Commission, in the substance of the matter, in aught I know; I see not why I may not now take the liberty to speak of myself, what I think, of my Lady and Mistress in her praises.  
But where shall I begin, or how proceed, but without beginning or any method at all, for in this office I hold myself not obliged to any. These are but scatter as I promised you, which I find here and there neglected in the trace of her life, which yet require regard and some reflection.  
In the History her Infancy is noted to be a fair Aurora, promising a beautiful and goodly day, and not without good reason, having now already seen the happy progress of her Day, which had as fair a Sunset, as the Morn was promising, and the day performed, glorious in refulgent rays of virtuous and religious works, till night; when every plough ends his furrow, and every constant labourer goes to rest.  
The Aurora and beginning of which day was wholly spent in the Virginal; the Noon and middle season in th●… Conjugal; and the rest till the utmost period, in the Vidual state. O happy Day the while, that knew no night of mortal sin, no heats of concupiscences, or clouds of melancholy, H●…r flowers in this first season, were Lillies all, and Roses in the bud, enclosed from the eyes of mortals, with a silken veil of chaste retirement, and fenced with the thorns of Vigilance as with a court of guard. In her infancy, nothing more innocent, in her minority full of sports, witty and ingenious, but tending all to piety, and for the rest, to the years of election of a constant state most stayed and prudent, far beyond her years. Sophia her cursed Mother, in the time of her Espousals, had cause to know it well, when she a woman of so great a spirit, and who had such a tongue as had been able Siren-like, to have enchanted and be witched any tender Maiden, to have persuaded what she listed, was so put to silence with her prudent answers, as she durst never provoke such a piercing wit any more. But thou Sophia wert deceived the while, it was not her wit so much as thou imagind'st which foiled thee so, in thy proper element of a potent tongue, but the sweet Unction of the holy Ghost, that gave such a force and energy to her speech in defence of herself, being pressed so hotly with such batteries, as thou laidest against her; Which oil of grace in her hart▪ once taking fire, within her mouth, turned to such a flame of seeming Eloquence.  
For if she a Child, had such a loathing and contempt of the vanities of this world, as tires and dress, pearls, and carcanets, which the Daughters of the world affect so much and desperately dote upon in that age; Who doubts but the holy Ghost did dictate to her what she spoke in that occasion. But leaving those, pass we unto her pucellage; the time being come she should assent or disassent from the Spousalles made in her Infancy, with L●…wys, the gallantest Prince, and the most accomplished of all Europe: No doubt but here was a combat all the while, in the breast of this noble Princess and such a one as happily had she not a sure rampart or bulwark to repair unto, she had questionless sunk down in the field, and her tender breast had never been able to have endured the shocks and counterbuffs were given on either side. The Prince for his person, dignity, piety, & qualities of a Prince, was void of a●…l exceptions; what then? and should she give her full consent to ratify the espousalles made long since between them; Should she so easily give over her former fair designs of abandoning the world, the pomps and vanities thereof, should she now leave her heavenly Spouse, for an earthly one? And what comparison I pray (would she say within herself) may be found between them? He a noble Prince but yet a man subject to death and all calamities. The other a Prince of Princes, and which is more, my God; and though a man and mortal heretofore, yet now immortal.  
The Prince of Th●…ringia, as yet seeks not to me, nor do I know his mind, as yet. But my other Spouse, hath wooed me long, and graced me much. Him if I e●…ioy, and none but him; In him have I all that hart can possibly require: And this when I shall have, though he were the Monarch of the world, yet should I wa●…t these 〈◊〉 contents which he affords. The sweet conversation of one h●…wer with him to me is more, than all the solaces, the other can afford in a whole age. And if for his sake I shall leave an earthly Spouse, I shall oblige to me a heavenly one, and look what terren things I shall renounce for him, I shall find to be multiplied a hundred fold. Yet is this Prince, I understand, a virtuous and religious Prince. Why then may I not enjoy him too, in his degree an earthly Spouse, and yet retain my heavenly and chiefest Spouse, and yield my body, and my second faith to one, and not infringe the loyalty of my first to the other, but keep my soul inviolably his? And why may I not love him with all the powers of my body and soul, as my spiritual Spouse and yet love my earthly Spouse with a love subordinate to his, and proper to it?  
What here now should this poor Virgin do in this doubtful dilemma? what should she choose? Fair and goodly reasons seem to invite on either side. She hath no way to cut this Gordian knot, but with the sword of entire resignation, in putting it freely into the hands of ●…er heavenly Spouse, and make him the umpire in his own cause. The history makes no mention of it but, we piously presume, she shut herself in her Closet hereupon; where what passed between these amorous Spouses, cann●…t be set down, because I never heard sh●…e revealed it to any.  
This only do w●…e find in effect from that time forwards she was wholly cle●…red of her doubt. For thence she resolved indeed to hear ken to the Prince, & for her part to yield a full consent unto 〈◊〉 Spousalls. Res●…luing so to entertain the one, as she never mea●…ed to forg●…e the other. And truly this we may boldly say, if ever woman kept herself entire in these double Spousalls, without exception of either part, our S. Elizabeth hath had the happiness and prerogative above others.  
With this began her N●… one or Midday of her age▪ w●…en the heat of youth; is apt to carry us into youthful thoughts; such as are sports and pastimes, gallantry in apparel, deintyes and delicacyes in diet, especially which Princes in the Court. And yet this Ph●…nix among the Ladies and Princesses of the earth, living in a vain & want on Court, as it was when she found it first, took no more of those relishes, than fishes are wont of the brackish seas. She was a Salamander amid the fires of earthly concupiscences. A Bird of Paradise, which had no fee●…e to settle on terren things, but always hover in the air of heavenly and spiritual contemplation▪ How often had the Music played in her presence, when she adue●…ted nothing; and when her Sister Agnes had been dancing among the Ladies of the Court, she would be stealing to her Oratory to converse with her heavenly Spouse, either in reading of some pious and devout book, when she would imagine her Spouse had spoken familiarly with her, or in vocal or mental prayer, making then account she treated with her Spouse▪ & thus she would spend whole hovers, while Agnes and the rest would spend as many in their chats and dalliances with the youthful Lords. How oft had Sophia fetch Elizabeth out of her Closet, to consort with such as these, saying, they were company indeed fit for Ladies like herself; and for those retirements she affected so, they were for Anchoretts, and not for wives, especially great Ladies. When she for satisfaction sake would now and then come forth, in person indeed and bodily, but in soul left b●…hind. Madam Mothers, she would say, if I be not with my Lord and Spouse, give me leave I beseech you to converse with my Lord God, assuring you, if I be not with the one, of necessity I must be in company of the other, or else Madam I must tell you plainly and ingenuously, and confess unto you I am not myself. Which answer, while there was no remedy she was fain to take for payment.  
The reason why she so divided herself bet●…ween her Spouses, was because by experience she found that the sweet conversation of the one diminished not the others; for likely with her Lord she would have no other talk, nor he to give her satisfaction, would discourse of nothing else but of pious things, as of some pretty new devotion or o●…her, & sometimes she would ask some cases of cons●…ience of him, and he would answer probably what he thought & so beguile the time with one an other. It was an admirable thing how from her hushand she could presently compose herself to prayer, & from her prayer how amiable and gracious she would be to her husband.  
But alas this Noon of her age, lasted not long; The Sun being got to the top of the Zodiaque, in a moment as it were▪ is in the decline: and what is a year, some two or three, or three or four, but a moment once compared with eternity? The Noon then of her Conjugal state being ended, with the unlooked-for & untimely death of her earthly Spouse, her Vidual begins, which lasted till the evening of her own. Where do we meet with a passage worth the note. Who would have thought measuring the love she bore to her deceased Lord, but one Tomb might have held them both, whose hearts during life seemed all as one, since the hart goes likely where the body is. She was so wholly to her husband while he lived, as she had been a stranger merely to all things else; Who being dead, she seemed as he had never been, not that she could forget him, but as if the love she bore him, only had been lent and borrowed for a time, being now restored again to the owner of her whole love her heavenly Spouse, as holding herself hereby to be entirely acquit of the debt, she was now more free for her only Spouse.  
But lo the state of her Widow hood wanted not difficultyes enough, the medal of her Noon, where the Sun of her good fortune was in the highest pitch, was of a sudden in decline and changed into a bitter Afternoon: her Roses all were turned to Thorns▪ For now new batteries were bend on every side against the Citadel of her hart, to render it to a second earthly Spouse. All fairest means were used to work their ends, no stone was left unremoved to effect what what they desired. Her nearest friends she lost in that same quarrel. Her Aunt, her Uncle, yea her Father were denied admittance to a parley in any equal terms, she stop her ears against them all, as at the bewitchings of a Sirens song. She was a Rock immoveable, that dashed the forces of their arguments to nought, like billows vanishing to froth. I speak of her worldly Crosses, when she was thrust out of doors, stripped of all she had, was forced with her children, to beg from door to door, for these were roses, & not thorns to her. These were the favours which he●… heavenly Spouse upon her late entire conversion to him did present her with. For lo the thorns I speak of were not thorns indeed, they were rather flowers unto her, to weave her garlands, to make herself more grateful to him. Open affronts were crowns upon her front, nor ever Queen or Empress in the world, seemed more to tickle for joy on the triumphal day of their coronations, than Elizabeth did, when she found herself so injuriously confronted by that monster of ingratitude, and thrown into the mire and dirt; when she was fain to sit upon a sunny bank to dry herself, and with a knife to scrape away the mire from her course & homely garments, imagining the while she cleansed her soul withal, from the ordure and contagion of the sins of vanity she feared she had contracted in her life: in a word she seemed in that same plight to have been a job upon his dunghill, and yet as rieh as Croesus with all his gold, which she held no more than earth and yellow clay, and really is no more indeed but Earth, save that esteem doth give it worth and price, which she could do, and truly did. But the great Cross she apprehended all the time, were the bounds and limits which her Master put upon her pious inclinations of relieving the poor, touching the Lepers, & handling their sores, and this indeed did try her to the quick. That same of leaving so her Maids was no little Cross unto her, but nothing like to this, yet did she swallow up both▪ pills, with invincible fortitude; and so refined, she came at last to that, as she knew not her own, till she were assured of her Master's mind. Never was Afternoon more piously & better spent: she being wholly seen and employed in works of mercy. For who ever asked an alms that was refused? She clothed the naked, fed the hungry, & for the cold made fires for them; she cherished Orphans, releived Widows, comforted the distressed, dressed the most noisome and loathsome sores with her our hands, buried the dead: in a word what did she not, that any other Saint had ever done, that came within her way or reach?  
It is true indeed that Ss. are not to be compared together in a factious sort. N●…r Peter, Paul, and Apollo, in contentious wise, to be made the heads of other private spirits, but all are to be reverenced as one in God, & God in al. Yet howsoever, though they may not be t●…us paralleled, yet may they well be resembled in their similitudes, wherein they agree without any breach of Charity, in us or them. I hope than it shall not be il taken, if I say our Saint was not a Prophet merely, or an Apostle, or a Mart●…r, or a Doctor of the Church, for these in verity she could not be; yet as Elizeus is said to have the spirit of Elias, and which is more a double spirit too, so may we say she had the spirit of Prophecy in her, when she foresaw the future vocation of that Virgin whose hair she cut off: An Apostolical spirit when she laboured so, in the conversion of Infidels, and baptising Infants: the spirit of Martyrdom, whose fervent desires she had so boiling in her breast, whose life otherwise was a perpetual martyrdom, in the cruel macerations of her body. The spirit of the Doctors she had, in that she laboured to catechise the Children and the ignorant, and was a light of instruction to her maids. She was an Hermitesse in spirit, in so affecting the solitude of her closet, as she did; whereby she was a true Confessor in fasting, prayer, and alms doing, all to confess the holy name of JESUS in her works. And for ●…he rest as we have said; s●…ee had truly been, a Virgin, Wife, and Widow, and though she died not in the first, yet had she the affect thereof, and spirit, to her death.  
Thus had our Saint here more than a two fold spirit, & virtually contained in her a whole Hierarchy of Sanctity. And now let us see how she approached to the Angelical Hierarchy of the blessed Spirits. First then, she was an Angel in her modesty, whereby she edified. In Obedience an Archangel to perform the hests of her heavenly Spouse, and of man, in contemplation of him. She was as one of the Virtues, in her promptness, to help and assist her Neighbour. As one of the Powers to vanquish i'll with good. One of the Principates, in her exercise of Humility, and assiduous practice of humiliations. A Domination in the victory of her passions. A Throne, in her repose and peace of mind. A Cherubin in her insight into heavenly and divine mysteries. And lastly a Seraphin in her bu●…ning flames of Charity & the Love of God. And shall we yet go higher, with Your leave, the Purest of all pure creatures. For lo I here set forth no Paragons, nor parallels do I here make with any; much less with you, o most blessed Virgin Mary, the sovereign Lady▪ of all the Ecclesiastical and triumphant Hierarchyes, spiritual or angelical. But only with your fair leave, do make some resemblances between you as the Mother, and this Saint the Daughter.  
First then I find these sympathies between you. You were a Virgin, Wife, and Widow; so was she, wi●…h this difference that you were perpetually a Virgin really before, in, and after Childbirth, really a Wife indeed and fruitful in effect, and truly a Widow both in effect and affect. Whereas she the first, not perpetually in effect, though in affect perpetually such, and the other truly▪ and r●…ally so▪ Secondly you were presented in the Temple at three year old, as dedicated to the service of God; and she at three year old, affianced to an earthly Prince, as dedicated to the service of the world. You at fourteen consented to the Espousalles of joseph, having first made a Vow of perpetual virginity: and she consented to the espousalles of Prince Lewis, with the purpose of still retaining the affect of Chastity. You remaining perpetually a Virgin, saw yet the fruit of your Womb; and she with the affect of Chastity had likewise hers. Thirdly. You persecuted by Herod fled into Egypt with your little child, & she persecuted by Henry with her children likewise was thrust out of doors. You Queen of Angels lived in Nazareth in a slender house: and she Princess of Thuringia at Marpurg in a poor hovel. Finally, you the Patroness and Protectress of all, that come running for succour: And she had not the hart to send any unsatisfyed away, but was the Mother of Orphans, the Physician to the sick, Chirurgien to the lame, a staff to the aged, Cloth to the naked, bread to the hungry, a storehouse of all provision for the poor & needy: in a word you the Mother of mercy, & she your daughter right, all of mercy.  
This leave allowed me now to go so high, gives me a confidence to go yet higher: to find resemblances, as in the Mother, so likewise in the Son. Now then to end with her, where he began. He at his Nativity into this world, had an Angel singing as he lay in the Crib: and she at her Natals, her Nativity into the next, had an Angel likewise singing by her bed side. He wept in entering into this vale of miseries: she sung in going forth. His Angel tuned & first gave the tone, saying Glory to God above, & peace to men of good will: and hers glory to God, and peace unto her Soul. An host of Angels joined to his Guiver: & so there did to her. This only difference was, she sung with them again, he wept, and cried as Infants use to do in their birth. She in convenient time was baptised with water: and he with his proper blood in circumcision. She found an ginger, to cast her Natiu●…ty, who presaged her future glory: And he a simeon that fore told him likewise to become hereafter a Light unto the Gentiles, and a glory unto Israel. What more? S. john 
Io. 1. c. 3.  hath truly said: that We should be like one day to jesus Christ: & our Lord himself hath likewise uttered with his own mouth: that Such as shall believe in him, 
Io. 14.  shall do the things which he ●…ath done. Yea, and which is more, shall arrive to such a point of happiness, as they shall do yet greater things than he hath done If so, then Elizabeth may be said to resemble him: For if an intimous conversation makes a sympathy and similitude among friends, and that Moses conversing with our Lord on Mount Syna got a Gloriet on his head, so like to his. No marvel that Elizabeth should seem so to resemble her Spouse, with whom she had so frequent and private familiarityes in the Syna o●… Mount of sublime Contemplation. And I should think it no dishonour orderogation to Christ her Spouse, that she should be said to have wrought the same wonders and greater, when it 〈◊〉 confessed that what he did he did of himself and of his own power: and she by his, as a mere participation from him. Say we then with confidence, if jesus Christ the Spouse of Elizabeth wrought Miracles. Elizabeth likewise the Spouse of jesus wrought Miracles. If he cured the sick and infirm; even so did she. if he gave eyes to the blind, feet to the Lame, and blood to the withered arm; so did she. If he dispossessed Devils and cast them out of their holds; so did she. If he fed multitudes with bread & fish of his own power: she fed them likewise of her store through his power. Thus do we see how near this Saint resembled and approached her dearest Spouse, & so near that I may say yet more, that they seem to be as One, since she being united with him, was One and the self same in spirit with him, so Deified in a sort: where I leave her adoring the blessed Trinity, she having through a divine and Seraphical Love ascended so by the ladder aforesaid from the lowest state of a Conjugal lif●… to the highest pitch of the burning and most amorous Seraphins.  
Now then to descend again, excuse my rudeness while I call upon you, Mirror of piety, Pattern of sanctity, Model of innocency, image of virtue▪ Example of perfection, Terror of Devils, Consolation of the afflicted. You the fair Elizabeth, the Well Beloved of the blessed Spirits, the Sister, the Dove, and singular Spouse of your beloved jesus. Most delicious soul, most merciful, and gracious, in the midst of the pleasures now, and divine delights which you enjoy: Grant I beseech you, I may always remain under the shadow of your wings, under the folds of your protection and sweet mercy, intercede you for the salvation of my soul, for the corporal health, and happy success of me poor Worm and miserable wretch. Obtain for me all those gifts of God, which are expedient for me and to his greater glory; that I may be Master of my passions, and have a sovereign command over all my affections. You, who already have found such grace in the sight of God, cause through your prayers, O dearest Saint of many Saints most dear unto me. O noble Princess of Thuringia, I may always find grace in the sight of God your dearest Spouse, and before the whole celestial Court of the blessed Saints and holy Spirits. Grant I beseech you, I may not once forget or ever seem to neglect the means of my salvation, that mine Enemies may never vaunt they have prevailed against me; that being fed with the bread of grace, of life, of wisdom, & receiving the sacred food of Angels, which is the precious Body of my sweet jesus, your dearest Spouse and mine▪ I may suck in the fountain self, the sweet pleasures of the Divinity, and be inebriated and drunk of the divine consolations. O let your humble servant find so much grace with your dear Spouse, that his devout prayers may suddenly be heard his vows and good desires, find entrance and access to his Throne of Majesty, that his just petitions may freely be accorded to. And this do I demand of your, this I desire, and ●…quire of you by all the acts of pure dilection which in your prayers your ever aimed & leveled at the Divinity. And while I shall perform my race in this list in the vale of miseries, his Omnipotency would please to unite my hart and spirit unto his more than most holy one, through the sacred chain of his most fair transforming and deifying love. And pardon me o most holy Lady, gracious S. Elizabeth, that offering your and dedicating to your honour in all humility, this little Work of mine. I do it in so poor a fashiou. Oh graciously deign to accept it so, and it shall be rich enough.  
Amen.   
FINIS.