❧ A compendious AND A VERY FRUTEFUL treatise, teaching the way of dying well, written to a friend, by the flower of learned men of his time, Thomas Lupsete Londoner, late deceased, on whose soul jesus have mercy. ❧   

To die well.  
THey say, it is a point of a proud vanity, or a stubborn folly, to keep sure and certain, whatsomever is once said, always, it seemeth not to wise men, that a promise should be sticked by, in as much there may chance greater causes to break a promise, than the reasons be, why promiss should be performed. As if I have said, that I will sup with you: it is not enough to bind me against all chances. I may fall sick, I may have at home some necessary impediment, the wether may so fall, that it is no going out, many casualties may happen, that were not in mind, when such promise was made. Wherefore wise men say, in all making of promise, there be ever understand some secret exceptions, such as be these: If I can, If I may, If it be convenient, If no greater cause happen to let me. By the which exceptions, a promise never bindeth a man ferther, than is according to be observed and kept.  
¶ If I thought (my friend Iohn Walker) that you would take mine excuse by the said exceptions, I would rather by them escape my promise, that I have made to you, than I would fulfil it. For when I suddenly agreed to your request, that was to have me write to you the way of dying well: I considered not at that time, what the thing was. After I perceived more difficult in it, than was meet for my poor wit, specially being (as you may see me) other wise occupied, in such studies as appertain to my leisure: and of shortly this lesson to learn the way of dying well, hath need to have a master, the which knoweth both what our life is, and what the loss of the same is. Nor no man in mind can effectuously teach the way to die well, except he be one that knoweth the way to live well. And plainly the matter requireth a philosopher's stomach and a sad. For such a one as Marcus Cato was, were a man meet to entreat this thing: he knew what valour lay in death, the which he sought both with sword, and his nails, tearing out his own bowels.  
¶ I would think a Catulus or a Mercula should speak lustily to you of death, seeing they showed their courageous heart nothing to esteem life, when the time required, either to die with honour, or to live with shame. These men and such other would show you the way to go to death, long before death came to you. But none of all the paynims can either with word or with ensamples of their acts declare this thing so truly and effectually, as may he that is exercised in Christ's philosophy, a Paul, or a Peter, or a Hierom should here in speak more lively, than all the subtle clerks of the old greeks. Yet to me, for my part, it is an hard thing, either to play with you one of this sort, or of that sort. It passeth my power to speak to you either like Socrates, or like Chrysostome. So that if the said exceptions be with you admittid in a promise making, I may truly deny you the performance of, my granting, in as much when I promised you this thing, there was understanded, if I could, & if it were convenient: I neither can well declare this way of dying, nor yet me think, it is not convenient for me, living in this comen course of the worldly folk, to speak of death so earnestly, as a monk of the Charter house should and might do. But by cause I know your importune desire, to be so set upon this thing, that needs you will have me say somewhat herein: I will pray you so to read me, as the tale not only to be written of me for you, but that I myself am also an auditor of the same, and as moche shall I enforce to follow the counsel, that in my saying I advise you, as though the hole work pertained only to myself. Wherein take this note for your comforts, that I writ nothing to you, that I wish not were in my own power to execute. Thus I with you, and you with me both of us fast yoked to gathers, let us endeavour ourselves to be in deed such men as we commend and praise. For as it is shame to speak one thing and to think an other, so it is a more shame to write holily and to live worldly. And as great a rebuke there is in him that can here and praise good sayings but do there after he will not.  
Now than let us not speak only of the way to die well, but in effect let us endeavour our minds to have the fruit of this lesson, to make in deed a good end of our life. And here now without any further process I will begin to pay you my debt, and shortly you shall know my mind how you may die well.  
¶ As I was bethinking me, to write some thing of this matter to the satisfying of your desire, I turned a book, where my memory gave me, to be a story of one called Canius, that lived under the tyrant Caligula Cesar. This Canius beside his high learning was a man of a great spirit, the which he well declared in the manner of taking his death. It chanced him to fall out for a certain cause with the said tyrant, and many sore words were between them: at the last when the tone was departing from the t'other, this emperor in his fierce ire said: Well thou fool, make merry if thou wilt, for I have pointed the within few days to be slain. Thereat Canius turned him with low courtesy and said: My most gentle prince I heartily thank you.  
¶ This answer came from a noble stomach, whereby he showed the mad ragiss of the cruel tyrant to be so far intolerable, that under him death was to be reckoned for a benefit and a good turn: wherefore he thanked him for his offer, as for a special reward. And great marvel men had to behold this Philosopher, how merry he was after this tyrants threatening. There were ten days given of respite, before he should die, the which time he so passed, that he never seemed to be in less care, nor to have his mind in better quietness.  
¶ When the day came of execution, the kings geyler & hangmanne went about the town with a great company of them that should suffer death, the which passing by this Canius house, they called him to be brought also forth amongst the other, at the which time Canius was playing at the chests with one of his companions, and hearing them make haaste, he rose and telled his men, saying to his companion: Look now that after my death you lie not, nor make no false cracks, that you have won this game. There with also he bekenid to the jailer and said: I pray you bear witness, that I have one man in this game more than my fellow hath.  
¶ In this wise this philosopher played with death, and shortly his quiet heart gave a foul check mate to the tyrants cruelty: he showed himself to be in spirit as far above all kings violente power, as these mighty princes think to have a strong dominon over all their subjects. The friends and familiars of this philosopher were very sorrowful, bewailing the loss of such a man, to whom: what mean you quoth he? Why be you sad?  
Why mourn you for me? Is it not your study to know, whether the soul of man be mortal or immortalle? The truth of this hard question I now shall learn: and now shall I see the truth of all our doubts of heaven and of god.  
¶ Thus talking with his friends he came to the place of execution, and there a little, whilst other were headed, he stood still in a musing dumpte. What think you now good Canius, quod one of his friends? Whereupon now muse you so earnestly? Marry (quoth he) I have determynedde with myself to mark well, whether in this short pang of death my soul shall perceive and feel, that he goeth out of my body. This point I fully intend to take heed of: and if I can, I will surely bring you and the rest of my fellows word, what I felt, and what is the state of our souls.  
¶ Here was a wonderful calm stomach in the midst of so stormy a tempest, this man's mind was worthy of an ever lasting life, that was not only to the death studious of knowledge, but also in the self death found occasion of learning. It was not possible for any man's mind to continue his study longer, or to a further point than this noble philosopher did.  
¶ This story and certain other like, maken me often to reason with myself, what a strength of knowledge is in man's brain, to search and to find by himself the truth, if he enforce his wits to learn. For this Canius & many other were not taught of Christ, as we now be, they had not the rules of faith, the which show the undoubtefulle way to come to the perfyghte knowledge of all privy misteres, they were not comforted with the preaching of god's son to set little by this life as we now be. They were not plucked to conceive a love of virtue above nature: as the holy scripture draweth us from this world to the beholding of an other place, where virtue receiveth her crown. Wherefore to me it is no small cause of marveling, when I here such ensamples of natural men, that by themself could in such a manner rise above their nature, in setting little by that thing, that naturally every creature most abhorreth and feareth (for death is the thing that in this world by nature is made most doubtful, most terrible, most heinous, and most worthy to be feared, to be eschewed, and by all means, ways, gins, or craft to be escaped) To here then a natural man, without the teaching of god, to rise up in his fantasy above nature, to judge of death far other wise than nature teacheth him, to despise the durance in this life, when he knoweth no certainty of none other world, to use the strength & might of the spirit against the puissant power of all tyrants: It seemeth to me a wonderful thing, & more wonderful the same should be, if I saw not written in holy scripture, how that from the first creation of Adam, the goodness of god hath been so great toward mankind, that he hath given us always sufficient grace, to know the right, to see the high majesty of virtue, to find out the true dignity of the soul, to perceive the vanity of this present life, and finally to understand wherein standeth the pleasure of god, and wherein standeth his displeasure. Ever by gods mere goodness man knew what was well to be done, and what was contrary evil to be done. It is a law written in the heart of man with the finger of god in our creation, to be induced by reason to praise always virtue, and to think sin worthy of dispraise. The mind of man hath a grace to see farther than the body sight can attain to, the mind of man feeleth more subtly than our five wits can approach to, the loss of blood or of breath is a small trifell in the minds consideration, when the mind useth his own clear sight, and is not blinded with the darkness of the body, the whcihe stomblethe at every straw in this world. Every mot choketh a worldly man. 
●orld●●●an.  Every little sound maketh a worldly man trimble and shake. I call a worldly man him that giveth all his care to use his wits in this world, that creepeth upon such things as be seen, hard, felt, tasted, and smelt, that climbeth not in no consideration above the mist of this valley. The most part of men ever have been of this weak sort and yet still the most part of men is the same. This world ever hath his multitude, that honoureth, worshippeth, and magnifieth nothing beside this short life, and those things that pertain to this life. Yet again ever hath there been some and still there be some, that play the philosophers, the which studied to know the dignities and worthynesses of every thing, how much it should be esteemed, valurid, or regarded of us, the which labourith to pick out in every thing what is good and what is nought. 
Spirit● men.  Men of this sort be called spiritual men. For you must know, that a tayllour, a shoemaker, a carpenter, a boot man, without both learning and orders, may be spiritual, when a master of art, a doctor of divinity, a dean, a bishop both with his cunning and dignities may be temporal, seeing the true definition of a spiritual man is to be one, in whom the mind and spirit chiefly ruleth. Like wise the temporal man is he, 
Temporal me●.  in whom this present time of this traunsitorye life hath most room. Thus I say spiritual men have ever seen the truth, to ponder and valour every-thing in this world accordingly. And as to the temporal mind nothing seemeth sweeter than to live here, so the spiritual mind findeth sweetness in death, by the which this life endeth. For like as the prince of this world never agreeth with god, nor yet the body with the soul, nor the earth with heaven: so he that studieth for this time, hath clean contrary opinions to him that followeth the spirit. And as the temporal man saith, it is a pleasant thing to live here, and a bitter thing it is to die: so the spiritual man thinketh it a bitter time to endure the space of this life, & much joy he conceiveth by the riddance of the soul from the heavy burden of this body.  
¶ Of these contrary opinions you ushall less marvel, when we have a little considered the thing itself, what should be death, the which one part of us so moche feareth, and an other sort setteth so little by the same: and so by a short process you shall see, whether the said Canius be more worthy of praise for his little regarding the deadly punishment than is Frances Philippe, 
Franci● Philip.  that within few years passed was put to execution with us for treason, the which died so cowardelye, in so great pangs of fear, that he seemed extract from his wits, scant for quaking and trymbling the wretch could speak one word. The few words that he could with much stuttering sound, were only in the declaration of his despair, nor nothing was seen nor hard of him, but weeping, lamenting, wringing of his hands, with baning the hour and day of his birth, continually sighing, as though his heart should have burst for sorrow.  
The difference of these affects will hereafter be (I think) plainer to you, when we have a little more spoken in this matter. For now good Iohn, I will creep a little nigher to your desire, the which you have, of learning the way to die well.  
¶ THIS dying well is in effect to die gladly. 
●o die ●yll.  For who so ever dieth gladly, he departeth from this life in a sure hope to live again, being now weary of this world: but neither this hope of the life to come, nor this weariness of the life present, can make in any man a glad heart to die. Unless he be one that hath lived well here. For in death there can be no gladness, except therebe a full trust of obtaining the reward of virtue, partly by the trust and faith of a good mind, partly by the mercy of god, that fulfilleth ever our insufficiency, if we bring aught with us worthy of his favour. For god's grace supplieth, where our power lacketh, if it so be that our souls appear before him in an apparel meet for his presence, the which apparel requireth a perfect faith, and an earnest will of doing well, all though we have not alway done well.  
The mercy of god never faileth him, that fully trusteth in it: But a full trust, can not be without the strength of charity, the which ever burneth in the love of doing good: & faith can not be perfect, unless there be good works, the which may stur up and quicken in us faith to take a believe, that by Christ's acts our final demerits may grow to be perfect. Thus a cheerful heart, beset with faith, hope, and charity, taketh no pensifulnes in the remembrance of death, but rather it rejoiceth to remember, that by death it shall pass to life, never more to die.  
Wherefore to die well ever, is to die gladly, either to be rid from the bonds of this prison, or to obtain the liberty of heaven: both ways cometh from a good life passed: so that surely no man can die well, that liveth not well, for ever death is a sorrowful thing to the evil liver, by cause he hath nothing to lay before the mercy of god, whereupon he may take hope and trust to be made worthy of the sure life, in the which death meddleth not. Now than if we can gether, what may let us to be glad of death, and what will bring us to a desire of dying gladly, we shall by the same pick out the way to die well. For in my mind these ii be always one, to die well, and to die gladly.  
¶ The glad desire of dying is letted chiefly by two things: 
Two l●tes to d●● gladly.  one by the fear of death, the t'other by the love of this life. The tone of these followeth the t'other. For he that loveth this life, feareth to die: and he that feareth to die, loveth this life. Yet we may speak of each part by himself, and first let us assay the greatest, the which is the fear of death: than next after we will come to the t'other, the which is the love of this life. If these two blocks be taken out of our stomachs, we shall find an easy and a plain way to the end of our purpose. For who somever nother feareth to die, nor loveth to tarry in this life, he is ready alway to die gladly. But to perform my promise, let me say somewhat of the said fear and love.  
¶ first and chiefly the fear of death taketh away all gladness of dying, and thereby after mine opinion, no man that dieth fearfully can die well: so that to learn the way of dying well we must learn the way to die without fear. And yet how I should prove, that death is not to be feared, I can not well tell, seeing the hole power of nature showeth, that of all things death is most fearful: and to reason against nature, it were peraventure not so hard as vain. For what can reason prevail, if nature resist? It is a thing to far above man's power to strive or to wrastelle with nature, her strength passeth the might of our will, what help somever we take of reason or of authority: neither counsel nor commandment hath place, where nature doth her uttermost. It is none excuse to say, that men fear death because they be loath to leave the commodities of this life, or by cause they fear the threatenings of purgatory and of hell, or else because they think upon the sore painful pangs, the which be in the time of death. Nay these things make not chiefly the fear of dying, it may well be that of such things the fear is increased and made more full, but there is a fear before and beside all these things, the which fear nature (I say) giveth, as it is well seen in young children, that have no remembrance neither of this life, nor of the deadly pangs, nor of heaven, purgatory, or hell. When we in sport threaten to cast them headlong out at some high window, they quake, tremble, and ware pale, showing plain and evident tokens of a natural fear toward death. And though by learning, or by a courageous mind, some few amongst us, seem little or nothing to be moved with death: yet th'ensample of these few can not take away the truth, that nature in all the rest worketh. For how many be there that only to eschew death suffer all wretchedness, all beggary, all pain▪ in picking up crumbs of nourishment to abide a while in this light: And the more shamefully, that men for the most part fear to die, the greater proof there is, that such extreme points of fere against all shame should not in so many daily appear, when death approacheth, unless by nature some just fear were of the same. For as the excess of fear cometh by weakness of heart and lack of stomach, the which is worthy to be rebuked for shameful cowardness: so there is a mean measure offer in death, that may be reckoned honest and just, because nature maketh it necessary.  
Look you how both old and new stories keep in memory their names that appeared to die without fear: as who say, it is to be written for a wonder and like to a miracle, being a thing beside the course of nature, to here of a man that can in death over come the passion of fear, as we wonder to here of some that live without sustenance of meat or of drink. Because I say it is a natural thing to fear death, we greatly marvel of them that fear it not. Yet reason saith, we should not fear that thing, the which we know not, & only evil is worthy to be feared. But seeing we know not death, we may well by reason doubt, whether it be evil or good. And now before we speak any more of fear, let us a little consider death by itself, what thing it is of his own nature, and whether by itself it be good or evil.  
¶ We call once death the losing asunder and departing of ii things, 
What de●● is.  the soul from the body: the which departing no man can escape, but necessarily die all we must that be borne in this world. When the body by any violence loseth his sensis, and is spoiled from the quick use of his principal parts, than departeth the soul from him: and in manner the body leaveth the soul, before the soul leaveth the body. For it is not the soul by himself that goeth from the body, but it is the body by his forsaking life, that causeth the soul to depart. For where life is not, there the soul can not abide: and as the body is lively before the soul entereth, so the same body is deadly before the soul departeth. blood in his measure and temperance between cold and hot, keepeth life in the body: the which blood by innumerable ways of chanses may be altered and constrained to leave his nourishing, whereupon shall ensue the loss of life, and than straight after followeth the souls going away. For well you know, that the soul is one thing, 
●he soul.  and life is an other. Wheresomever the soul is, 
●he life.  there is life. But it is not true, that where somever life is, there is the soul. For trees and herbs have a part of life, and a more part of life is in muskylles, oysters, and worms: yet a more perfect life is in these beasts and birds, the which have amongst them some more some less of lives perfetnes. But though in them life, the which resteth in the use of the sensis, that be to here, to see, to feel, to smell, to taste, and in swift moving is a great work of life, the which things I say, though they be in the perfection amongist these beasts: yet the hand of god hath not given to any creature living in the earth water or air, to have beside life a soul: the which is a thing form after his likeness, saving only to man, whom he hath put here to rule over things created, like as he reuleth in heaven over al. It is the creators will, that nothing in this world shall have a soul, but man alone: the which soul bringeth with him the use of reason, a thing that may teach us both that we have a soul, and that god is he the which hath thus made us to be in this world his chief and most excellent creature. Reason doth thus teach us, yet beside reason we be herein better instructed by our master the son of god, so that now we can not doubt, that in us is a thing, the which can not die. But of surety we evidently see, not only by reason, but much better by belief, that the image of god in us is perpetual & can not not feal any corruption, whiles such as our froward will may give, whereof groweth sin, that is the living death of the soul. But let us come to our matter.  
¶ To speak of this bodily death we now have a great fordell in comparison of some old clerks, that were in doubt, whither there was in man any soul beside life, more than is in an horse or a goose. They were in doubt whether any thing of man remained after death, that might feel or perceive either joy or pain. For as to the feigning poets, that spoke of delicious gardens for good spirits, and of divers sore torments for ungracious souls after this life, most part of the old clerks gave no manner of credence: and they that believed other an heaven or an hell, to be ordained for men's souls, yet they so believed, that much doubtfulness was in their belief, in as much as their reason sufficed not to find out the certainty of God's works. From the which doubtis the unfallible doctrine of Christ hath now delivered us all, so that as many as will give ear to the voice of god, they can not mistrust their knowledge, but that without question both we have a soul, and the same soul is immortal, a thing that neither in this world nor out of this world can perish or feal any point of death, to lack by the same any jot of his being. I say our souls continually without end shall evermore endure, the which be created and made by god after the form of god. What form that is, it is as hard to show as it passeth our capacity to know what god is, whose shape and fashion our souls beareth.  
¶ Now than what shall we say of death? the which by himself is not unlike to an endless sleep of the body, whereof the body lieth without power to use any sense, being after life like to a stone, that never had life. 
Wheth●● death 〈◊〉 self b● good 〈◊〉 evil.  This change of the body's state, whether by hit self it be good or evil, it is an hard thing for us to judge, seeing the troth is, that no man living expertlye knoweth what thing death is: and to determine of a thing unknown, it seemeth a presumption full of folly. Therefore without any certain determination, we may for our learning debate with reason the thing, as much as shallbe within the bonds of our capacity, 
Death not go●●  and first if death were by himself good, it should be no trespass for one man to kill himself or an other. For in giving to other a good thing or in taking to ourself a good thing, can be no rebuke. Where the deed is good, there is well doing in the doer: But ever, not only by Christ's teaching, but also by natural reason manslaughter hath been judged an abominable sin. Wherefore it can not be, that by himself death is a good thing. And again an evil thing it is not. 
●●athe is 〈◊〉 evil.  For christ died willingly, the which will in god and god's son could not have consented to death, if death had been a thing of his own nature evil. Nor yet it could not be, that virtue should be praised in the glad suffering of death as now be crowned in heaven many holy martyrs, the which couragyouselye took upon them the death. And surely it should not be the natural end of man's course in this life, if it were a thing, by itself naught. For evil magrye man's head, is never put to him, as it should be if death were evil: the which necessarily man is constrained to suffer. 
Death's neither good n●● evil.  Therefore it seemeth true, that death considered alone by hit self, is neither good nor evil. But when we here of dying well or dying evil, or of a good death or an evil death: it is not death by itself that is spoken of, but rather the circumstances, the manner, the fashion, the cause of death, or that goeth before death, or that followeth death. These be the things that giveth and taketh this name of goodness or yvelnes, As to say that death is good, by cause it endeth this sinful life, and is the mean to pass from this world to heaven: or else when we say, that judas died an evil death, it is not meant that the departing of judas soul from the body was evil, but the manner of his dying, was the evil thing, his cursed desperation, his damnable mistrust of god's mercy, his despiteful refusing grace, made his death evil. The two thieves, he at the right hand, and he at the left, both died one kind of death, both nailed to crosses, both worthy for their trespasses: yet it is truth, that the tone died well in a good death, the t'other died nought in an evil death, not for the death by itself, wherein was no difference, but for the diversity of their ii minds in taking of death. The tone repented him, and asked mercy, whereof he died graciously, the t'other continued in his blaspheming god, the which stubborn stomach in sin caused him to die ungraciously. It is a thing that followeth death, and is not in death itself, whereupon we look, when we judge to be a good end or an evil. For by the manner of him that dieth, we conjecture the state and condition of the soul: the which if we find in our fantasy to be in an evil case, as in the danger of God's curse, we call death evil, whereby the soul passed to come to such sorrow. And contrary, if we think the soul to be in the favour of god, or to be ready to take mercy, we call death good, the which conveyed the soul to his bliss. So that by itself death remaineth indifferent to be judged of divers considerations, other a good end or an evil end.  
¶ Now than we may here say, he that feareth death, 
o fear ath..  showeth himself to be in doubt of his soul's state, or else to be certain that his soul is in God's curse. The which fearful mind is in them that have so passed this present life, that either they have done nothing, whereby they may hope to be rewarded in heaven: or else they have done so ungraciously, that they can have no trust of escaping damnable punishment, specially if he be a christened man. For if he be not christened, and feareth to die, he declareth himself to have none higher thought of life, than the dumb beasts have, the which make by the law of nature so much of their lives, that they can mind nothing beside, and the loss of their blood maketh with them an hole conclusion of their being. Wherefore beasts may justly fly and fear death, as the worst thing that can happen to their state: but a man doth himself to much wrong, if he think himself in no better condition than be these beasts. It is not in the devils power to do man so great hurt as this false imagination doth. And surely unworthy he is to have in him the power of understanding, of thinking, of providing, of learning, of teaching, of divising, of remembering, of loving, of hating, of reasoning, of counselling, of infinite more gifts, who somever judgeth himself to have no more than a swine or an ape hath: Look as by the five wits the body knoweth this or that: so by these powers of mind, the soul walkith to his understanding, and of an heavenly matter is made this marvelous thing, that dwelleth in man's body for a time, to be made worthy other of everlasting life, or of everlasting death, for the damned soul liveth in death without end.  
¶ But yet what shall we say to the place we left before, 
●eathe is ●ot to be ●eared.  that naturally death is feared? Let it be the working of nature, yet I see not but the strength of man's mind fully fastened in faith, may victoriousely over come all this fear, as we find many ensamples of men that so have done, not only of them that have been helped with faith, but also of many paynims, the which took a courage to despise death, only of a mighty and valiant mind to have reason subdue in them the power of all affects.  
¶ I find, a lernedde paynim wrote that we should neither care for life by itself, nor yet for death by itself. He saith that we should care to live well and to die well, and let life and death pass without care. For life is not good, but to live well is good.  
¶ If paynymes have this right consideration of life and of death, what shame is it for Christened men to care for death? seeing Christ whose words can not but be true, so vehemently forbiddeth us the same, that paynims saw by reason to be done. again, seeing this death is so common a thing daily in our sight, why should we we fear it. Things that seldom chanse may stir up by their rareness great fear: things that be ever at hand should by their famylartytie and custom nousel us to set little by them. furthermore he that feareth death coming to him, would fear by likelihood death, if it could be with him, when death is such a thing, that other it is not yet come, or else it is passed. For no man can say, that death is present. So this fear can never be joined with the thing that is feared. again that thing that every man may do, no man lightly doth, that thing that no man can help himself in, that for the most part all men do. No man almost studieth or careth how well he may live, but how long he may live every man museth, when the troth is, that it might of all men be obtained to live well, and no man can further himself to live long. A like frowardness is in our remembrance of death, we busily labour and enforce to dream of death, the which thing we can not do: we might find the way to die well, and this thing we will not do. This madness Iohn I trust, you will put of, and fear not death, the which you can not escape: But fear an evil death, the which you may fly.  
¶ Among many commodities of death I reckon one chiefly to be set by, that it is good to die well, to escape thereby thoccasion of living evil, and surely he dieth well, that for such an intent taketh death gladly.  
¶ More over consider you well, and you shall see, that in him the which is curious to live, fortune hath a great rule, but in him that can die gladly, fortune hath no power. And what a wretchedness it is to be under fortune's vanity, I report me to them, whom we behold daily diversely vexed as well with immoderate lusts of to much wealth, as with passing sorrows of to much trouble.  
Therefore to be out of fortune's thraldom set little by this life, that is to say, fear not death.  
¶ It pleased me to read a paynims opinion, that said, He is as foolish that feareth death, as he that feareth to be old. For as after young age followeth the old: so after old age straight followeth death. And a mad man's point it is to fear death, seeing things uncertain, the which may chance and may not chance, be only worthy of fear, but things certain without doubt coming, must be looked for, not feared. The necessity of deaths coming is equal and without remedy, so that other to complain, or to fly at death it is a plain madness. For who can complain to be in the condition, in the which indifferently all men of this world be?  
¶ And again if the pain of dying were a thing to make death fearful, first it should be a comfort to remember, that after the pain of death, there shall be no more pain, and as Epicure saith, If it be an extreme sore pain, it is short. For no vehement pain can be long. This were enough to make death not moche to be cared for. Every way death is a thing never to be feared of a wise man, and never to be out of mind both with good men and wise men.  
And as for the fear of death were not he (I pray you) a stark fool, that would weep and wail because he was not born to this life a thousand years ago? no less a fool is he who so ever sorroweth because he can not live a thousand years to come. For these ii sayings be even and equally true: you were not, you shall not be. So that one mind should be in us, as well to remember we shall not be, as to remember we once were not. It is no new thing to die, our fathers our grantfathers, our great foresiers be gone the way, that both we shall go, and all that follow us must come the same.  
¶ More over in as much no labour, wit, craft, nor diligence prevaileth to escape death, no power, no riches, no authority helpeth, but all indifferently be called of death, all without choice must follow the train of death, no corner can hide us, no walls can defend us, no way nor mean, no entreaty, no prayer, no suit, nothing under heaven can keep us from deaths hand. Let us than take a lusty courage of this desperation, seeing there is no remedy: let us manfully go to it.  
The most fearful and coward beasts, that of nature be made to fly, when they be driven in to such straits, that they can run no further, they▪ turn them, and with the power of their might they enforce to escape. 
necessity.  And surely it is ever seen, that those enemies be ever most terrible, the which be driven by extreme force to fight. For necessity correcteth and chastiseth our hearts much more sharply, than virtue can do. Whereof a desperate mind shall do greater acts, or at the least no less than a valiant stomach can do. In this necessity of death we now be all, it is vain for us to fly or to run away, our fear can find no place of flight. Let us imagine the truth as in deed it is, that we be all betrayed to die. It is so john, that without doubt we be all kept in a strait corner to be rid of this life. There is no hope of remedy. All this people that you see, how long think you shall be. It shall not be long, but all shall by the course of Nature be called hens to death, and there hid. It maketh no force neither of the day nor of the place. There needeth no question to be asked either where or when, all must come to one end, other sooner or later, other before or after? What now john? doth not he seem unto you a shameful coward, and a fearful wretch, a plain kikkes without an heart, that with moche intercession, with many prayers desireth a little delay of death? If you saw one stand in the numbered of many that should be headed, making most instant suit to the hangman, that he might be the last that should put his heed to the block, would you not say, fie upon such a wretched knave, that so moche feareth death, being now at the point to die, whether he will or no? and yet this manner now is with us all. For the most part it is greatly valured with us to die somewhat behind other, none is so nigh death by age, that desireth not to differre from this day until to morrow, when in troth such a weak mind is in effect deed and buried long before the body faileth. Lift up therefore your heart only because there is no remedy, desire not to fly when there is no place to run to, let necessity give you a courage, if all other strength decayeth. What a stomach was in the said Canius? of the which sort the stories make mention to have been many amongst the paynims.  
¶ A tyrant fierselye threatened Theodore the philosopher, that he should die, and that his body should lie to crows unburied: wourshyppefully said, answered this Theodore to the tyrant: Thou mayst be proud of thy power. By cause one ounce or two of blood is in thy hands. And as for the burialle of my body, O how foolish thou art, if thou reckon it to be any difference, whether I rot under or above the ground.  
¶ Of such courageous answers the stories of paynims be full. But much more the books of Christened men be full of such ensamples.  
¶ Christ's faith made innumerable strong champions, invincible stomachs, not only toward death but against all the cruel devices that could be found to make death more paynefulle than death. The holy martyrs were so far from all points of fear, that they seemed to enforce and to strive to have death given them. Their mirth was to suffer the horrible persecution of tyrants. No reason nor learning could work such strengthnes of hearts in men's minds, as the faith of Christ brought.  
¶ Look how saint Paul rejoiceth in his troubles, how he glorieth in his scourgings, whippings, in his prisonment, in his fetters, all his life seemed to be a continual death, yet his heart never gave over, but waxed by the pains daily stronger & stronger, to suffer a fresh. Fear of death was so far from his mind, that he was glad to remember how one's he should die, and thereby pass to Christ's presence, whose quarrel he defended in this world with all his might and power.  
¶ Look upon saint Laurence, lying broiling upon the burning cools, as merry and as quiet as though he lay upon sweet reed roses: When the tormentors turned his body upon the fiery gridirons, he bade the cruel tyrant eat of his burned side, whiles the other part was a roasting. This saying declared that this ho●y martyr feared no death.  
¶ How many thousand● martyrs suffered incredible pains of slaying with hooks they skin from the flesh, of scraping with tile stones the flesh from the bones, of renting and tearing member from member with horses, with bowed branches of trees, of beating with whips till the bowels fall out, of hanging, of burning, of Crucyfyinge, of infinite strange and new devices for pain? How many I say, suffered all that cruel tyrants could imagine either with hand, fire, or iron, rather than they would once deny themself to be of Christis profession? When it was proclaimed, that who so ever would say he was Christened, he should cruelly be put to death. There passed no day, without a great numbered of them that boldly spoke though words, of the which should follow so bloody a slaughter. This was a manifest token, that fear of death had no manner of place with our blessed martyrs, the which with a constant boldness defied and despised the mighty, cruel, and fierce emperors, their courage to die overthrew the raging madness of tyrants. The cause of this mirth in so piteous martyrdoms was, that this blessed men knew, how Christ neither could nor would deceive them, but that for their little regarding of this life, they should obtain an other life, where their joy should never have neither change, nor decrease, nor end. Therefore my good Walker, mistrust you not Christ, whose doctrine the heaven and the earth hath by innumerable miracles, this many hundredth years approved and confirmed to be true, the blood of so may saints have witnessed the same: and the devils with all the damned spirits, so surely believe the truth of Christ's teaching, that they tremble and quake thereat. Be not moved with the common ensample of the hole world, though both spiritual and temporal men, though the pope with all his cardinals bishops and priests, though the princes with all their gentlemen and subjects mangnifye, esteem, love, nourish, and by all means cherish this life, yet believe you the troth, and think all the world false, where Christ's saying agreeth not with that the world doth. If it were possible, that you saw the angels of heaven live contrary to the preaching of Christ, yet against them all believe the son of god, and love not to abide in this life, when Christ calleth you hence, make a small valour of this present pleasures, when Christ saith all be vanites, & may be turned to endless sorrows: Regard no honour, no promotion here, when Christ saith, the place of honour is in heaven, and here is none advancement, that is not both shame, and also may be cause of a perpetual wretchedness. despise the ease and rest that these riches bringeth, in as moche Christ saith, that of them be taken many impedimenntes and lets to enter into the sure quietness of blessed souls. Think no place to be for your abiding in this world, when christ saith, here is not your country, but your father and your dwelling place is in heaven. Haast therefore hence. This is to say be willing to forsake this strange country. And seeing the way to your homeward lieth by death, take a courageous stomach to die, and die gladly, that you may die well. Believe I say Christ, & you shall think it painful to be in this life. Believe Christ and you shall be greedy to be partaker of the heavenly joys, whereupon will follow a pleasant remembrance of death, by the which you shall depart from your pain to that joy, the which you desire. And hereof is made a glad dying, the which I still name a good dying. Thus if we can take this fear away we be well forward, and hereof will easily ensue the rest, that is to die gladly. It is a true saying, that who so ever feareth death, he shall never do a deed worthy for a living man. Therefore if it were but only for lives sake, it is our part to despise the fear of death.  
¶ Beside this fear of death, 
Love this ly●●  the love (I say) of this life sore hindereth the gladness of dying, no man dieth gladly, that esteemeth much this life. He that reckoneth in this world himself happy, when he hath gotten riches, possessions, authority, promotion, a rial state, a princelike court, abundance of wealthy fare, a rule and power both to advance his friend, and to undo his foo: this man I say that glorieth in his fantasy for these and such other things, can not but with much sorrow depart hence. To this man's heart the remembrance of death is a ever grievous thought, his mind can not but lament when he seeth the necessity to be pluckid and drawn from these commodities, in the which resteth the joy, pleasure, and gladness of his mind, he hath so steadfastly accustomed himself to take this world for heaven, that it will not sink in his brain, to hope of an other heaven: he hath so corrupted his taste with thinking this life to be sweet, that needs it must be a bitter thing to make an end of all his pleasures, and in this case be not only they that have this world at their will, but also they be in the same case that have nought, and be greedy of having. As moche loveth he this world that would fain be rich, as he that is rich. It is not the having nor the lacking of abundance in goods, that maketh a sorrowful heart in the remembrance of death, but it is the mind that valureth and pondreth these present goods to be of a great price, and worthy to be tarid for. This mind I say, as well in a communer, as in a king, as well in a yeoman as in a lord, as well in an hermit, monk, or friar, as in a merchant ploughman or vacabunde, as well in beggars, as in rich men, is the thing that causeth sorrow in dying. And gladly no man dieth, that loveth the wealth of this life. Wherefore the learning to die well requireth necessary a lesson, how moche the goods of this world be worthy to be regarded. And let the truth have in your stomach his place, so that if it be true, that the things of this life be worthy to be loved and to be cared for: than love you them and care for them. If the truth be other wise, change your mind, & neither love these said things, nor care for them. Of the truth in this matter no man can doubt, that believeth Christ, whom if you think to be god, you must also think it all troth that he saith. It can not be otherwise then Christ testifieth, whose preaching ever exhorteth us to wilful poverty, the which is neither to love the goodis of this world though we have them, nor to care for them, though we have them not: only by Christis teaching we should care for the kingdom of heaven, the which standeth in the cleanness of conscience, where ever is a place & a feet for the high majesty of the holy trinity. All other things necessary for this life be not to be cared for, nor yet to be valured more than their dignities requireth: that is to say, no more than is convenient for instruments & tolls to the pilgrimage & passage of this strange country. For in this world we have no home, our father dwelleth not in his region, we be in this life out of our proper country, we should hast home ward to the joyful presence of our own father, that abideth us in heaven, the which hath a greater charge over us his children here, than he hath over the beasts or birds, the which by his only provision without their care, lacketh nothing for their necessity, Moche more (saith our master Christ) if we turned all our care to godward, we should not be destitute of such things as necessarily this present life needeth. And where Christ so straitly commandeth alms deeds, saying, that who so ever helpeth not a poor man in his need, he will not help him nor yet know him at the fearful day of doom, in so much that it pleaseth Christ to say, that every poor man representeth the person of god's son, so that he that regardeth not a poor man, despiseth the son of god. In this doctrine what think you? Whether doth Christ command alms deeds for the poor man's sake, that should take alms, or for the rich man's sake, that should give alms? In taking alms I find no virtue, and needs it is a thing pertaining to virtue, that Christ would have done. Therefore surely it is for the rich man's sake. For it is Christ's lesson, that teacheth us to have no inward love to these casual goods, the which we must put from us, where we see them that want such things. And a proof of a perfect stomach is taken in him, that utterly leaveth and forsaketh all this world to follow Christ: the which beddeth the rich man, that will be perfect, to go & sell all that he hath, & deal all to poor men. For as hard a thing it is to pluck through the small needles eye a great caboull rope, as to bring a rich man in at heavens wicket: not that it is impossible for a rich man to be saved, but by cause it is hard for a man in a whelthy state to keep his mind in a due order to godward, without being drowned or infected by the contagious lusts and corrupted pleasures, the which followeth the fortunate life of this world. And nothing is more in a rich man to be feared, than lest he set his mind to love his riches, the which love can never stand with the pleasure of god.  
Remember the saying of thapostle saint Paul: The love of riches is the rote of all sin. Therefore let not this love grow in your heart, from whence should springe the fruit of damnation. Here of my friend walker, I trust you see, that without question it is Christ's will to have us little regard this life, and much less to regard all the commodities appertaining to this life. It is god that saith, The losing of life in this world, is the finding of life in another world: and that weeping, sorrow, pain, tribulation, poverty, shame, persecution, and finally death in this life, is laughing, joy, pleasure, ease, riches, honour, quietness, and finally life, in the kingdom of god.  
Contrary the same master signifieth, that mirth, wealth, rest, glory, abundance, strength, liberty, rule, & finally life in this world, is lamenting, grief, trouble, slander, misery, weakness, thraldom, bondage, and finally death in god's reign. In this tenor and key soundeth all our holy scripture. Wherefore my think it is enough to prove to a Christened man, that the wealthy state of this world is vain and jeopardous, by cause Christ so teacheth and preacheth, and surely a greater proof by reason for this matter with you I will not use at this tyme. Let Christ be believed, that beddeth you gether a treasure in heaven, where your riches shall besure from moths, worms, and rusting, from thieves, fire, and water. If your treasure be ones couched in heaven, straight your heart shall also be there: and so shall you take no pleasure of tarrying in this life, but rather it shall be weariness and tediousness to you to be here absent from your hearts desire, the which alway sticketh and cleaveth to your treasure in heaven, If it so be that after Christ's consaille you have there put all your goods and substance. If neither we fear death nor love this life, I think the chief impediments & lettuce of our purpose to die well, be taken away, & now we may a little devise, what thing may help us in our journey after these stones and blocks be gone.  
¶ In my mind nothing shall further us more to a glad death, 
What der glad 〈◊〉  than shall an ordinate life, that is to live in a just & a due manner after one rule & one form, ever awake in a quick remembrance of death, as though every hour were our last space of endurance in this world. When you rise in the morning, determine so to pass the day following as though at night a grave should be your bed. Let every day be reckoned with you as your last. This mind shall make you bestow well your life, the which is to you uncertain, how long it shall continue: ye rather in doubt you be, how soon or how shortly life shallbe taken from you. What so ever you take in hand bethink you, that before you end it, death may oppress you working. This is the thing that Christ would have us do, when he so often warneth and admonisheth us to take heed and to look about us, because neither the day nor the hour of our calling is certain to us. Therefore it is our part, of a time so much uncertain to make a time sure, certain, and present, that we never be taken unwares: by the which means we shall gladly suffer death seeing it is a thing so long before prepared. For why should it be a strange thing to reckon every day to be the last? I see not but that thing, that happeneth and chanseth to some of us, might come to any of us, and like wise all might have that that a few hath. There is no cause to deny, but as well this day you or I might die, as we see this day some other deed: & though we be not deed this day, yet it is trowthe that this day we die, and daily sithen our first birth we have died, in as much that daily some part of our life, hath been diminished, & ever as we have grown, so ever life hath decreased. We were babies, we were children, we were boys, we were young men, all these ages be lost, and till yesterday all time past is gone and lost. This same self day that we now live, is divided and parted with death. Still without ceasing we approach to death by thexpense & waist of life. Thus dying we always be, though death be not always upon us. conceive than this ordinate life in your mind, & bestow your time whilst you have the tyme. Above all things ●●y idleness, the which is a thing both to the body and to the soul. like a kankering rustiness, and as an earring consumption, it wasteth to naught both virtue and strength. A man the which is in the life that you be, may soon be corrupted with this contagion of idleness, if he be not well aware, & diligently enforce himself to the contrary. For I see you have a master so affectionate & given to you, that he will neither suffer you lack any thing meet for your health or quietness, but also he had rather forbear his own commodities, than for his service you should be disquieted: So tender he is in all points over you, that if you ponder well his state and your own condition, you shall find your life better defended from all storms against the minds rest, than your masters condition is. He is in such a sight of the world, that necessarily his study and care must move him to satisfy the great expectation, that his hole country hath of his towardness. And fortune on the other side, is so contrary to him, that needs he must by wisdom procure, with no small thought, how he may in penury maintain the outward face of his reputation: so that for your quietness his mind often laboureth, where you may do what you will without fear of the worlds displeasure, without fear of lacking or not having enough for your necessaries, and much more than necessity requireth. Labour have you none, but that may be rather taken for a pastime, thought to please your master you need not take, in as much you may be assured, that he can not nor will not for the time of his life change his affection toward you. Therefore I say it may be feared in one of your state, lest idleness should breed a foul slovens nest, the which were enough to destroy all lustiness of virtue, & to make you long deed and buried in this world, before life forsaketh you. For my good Iohn, I will have you know and remember, that idleness is called the grave of living men: it is the thing, wherein life dieth, and thereby your soul is twice buried in you, once in your body, next in your sloth. The which vice in serving men most raineth, and the same is root of many unthrysty thoughts, whereupon followeth a worse idleness than the t'other is. For it is an evil idleness to do no thing, but a worse idleness it is to do not well. Such an idle fellow saint Chrysostomus calleth a dissolating, or a void baiting place, wherinto the devil enter, as in to his own house by good right. For where virtue is not exercised, there the enemy of grace claymith his rule, it is not now mi purpose to show what you should do, that you might not only fly idleness, but also be well occupied. This were a matter enough for another work. I have my intent at this time, if you see that death is not to be feared, and that by continual remembrance of death, you shall prepare yourself to die gladly with a good will: the which you can not do, unless you be in hope of the everlasting life, & this hope requireth some trust in the cleanness of a good conscience, the which ever followeth a gracious intent of living well. So that if you live well, you shall die well. And of the way to live well you can not miss, if you arm your mind to be strong against all suddenness of death. Pray ever continually without ceasing you must: but what is this continual prayer I would you learned. For of prayer it is but one final portion, the saying of psalms or asking with words of god his grace, the very prayer is to be ever well minded, to be ever in charity, to have ever the honour of good in remembrance, to suffer no rancor, none ire, no wrath, no malice, no sin to abide in your delight, but to be in a continual good thought, the which you may keep whether you sleep or wake, whether you eat or drink, whether you feast or fast, whether you rest or labour, & never peraventure you can pray better, than when you must give yourself to serve your master, to whom the course of your life is due & bound specially when god hath given you such a master, whom your service can not please without you be studious to please god. For well you see, that with out virtue your service were to your master an unsavoury thing: but (as I have said) it is not now my purpose to appoint you the way of living well: if you have hard enough to die well, I have for my part now said enough, & shortly by the same you shall of yourself without farther help find the way to live well. Now that by this I think my promise fulfilled, I will at this point bed you farewell, and I pray god give you a strong courage to pass valiantly through death, to come from thence to everlasting life, by the help and grace of our master and saviour Christ, to whom let us for ever more render all glory, praise, and honour. Amen.  
At Paris the ten day of Ianuarye.   

☞ Thomas Berthelet regius impressor excudebat. An. 1534. CUM PRIVILEGIO.