S. Edward King.   portrait 
S. Hugh.   portrait 
S. Martin.   portrait 
S. Otho.   portrait 
S. Stephen King.   portrait 
S. Bernard Abb.   portrait 
S. Fulgentius. B.   portrait 
S. Malachy Bish.   portrait 
S. Anselm Bish.   portrait 
S. Benet Abbot.   portrait 
S. Antony Abbot.   portrait 
S. Tho. of Aquin.   portrait 
S. Ant. of Milan   portrait 
B. Andrew Bish.   portrait 
S. Pachomius.   portrait 
S. Theodosius.   portrait 
B. justinian. B.   portrait 
FUGA SAECULI.  
OR THE HOLY HATRED OF THE WORLD.  
Containing the Lives of 17. Holy Confessors of Christ, Selected out of sundry Authors.  
Written in Italian by the R. Fa. john-peter Maffaeus of the Society of JESUS.  
And translated into English By H. H.  
Printed at Paris. M. D C. XXXII.  
Mart. B 〈…〉.    

TO THE NOBLE AND MOST WORTHY KNIGHT SIR B. B.  
SYR.  
THE Emperor TIBERIUS was of opinion, by wearing a Laurell-wreath on his Brow, no disastrous Lightning could touch his Person. And I, as secure and confident, under the covert of your Noble Patronage, fear no malignant blast of Obloquy, or breath of those, that shall seek to soil the Mirror of my sincere Intention, in my loving Service to my Country. Which made me thus presume, to erect your Name, as a Laurellbranch; that every one beholding it, who knows your excellent Dotes, and Faculties in this kind, may make more favourable reflections on the Worke.  
I forbear to allege many Motives, (as the manner is) which I had for this dedication: It is enough, that your UUorth and Merit claims it as due: This the Tuscan Genius seconds; Maffaeus himself requests; my Obligations urge; and Necessity importunes. Your free and Generous assent only remains. To obtain which, I appeal to your Noble Disposition, and Goodness, apt to communicate itself.  
And therefore to go about to extort this Favour, were injurious to your Bounty, which flows like a Torrent; and overflowing all obstacles that might deter me, makes the passage clear. So that I, viewing the BROOK, like NARCISSUS (though I saw nothing before, but my Unworthynesse) behold myself, as you have enabled, and encouraged me, resolute to publish these my small Labours.  
Vouchsafe then (SIR) to shroud them under the Laurel of your Protection: Whereby you shall patronise Holy, and Glorious CONFESSORS, and oblige Me further, to be  
Your most devoted to command. H. H.   

THE AUTHOR TO THE PIOUS READER.  
IN things which at first sight are want to be considered in any Work whatsoever, it seems the Intention of the Author, and Trace, or Method are the principal. Whence I, to give a brief account of either, say first;  
My End in this work to have been, to make a choice of Lives, not led so much in Solitude, as in Community; and of Examples also, not so miraculous, or stupendious, as virtuous, and (with divine Grace) not uneasy to be imitated.  
Next, in the manner of proceeding I have taken licence to cut of all superfluityes, to reduce scattered Narrations to the order of Time's, or Kind's; and finally to modify those passages, which transferring the thoughts to things dishonest or hurtful (as sometimes it happens) the chaster Ears, or more delicate Consciences, in some manner, come to be offended: But yet is all endeavoured in such sort, as the substance and truth of the Histories remain (what possible) entire, sincere, and uncorrupted.  
Such in sum, my design in this present writing hath been: Which if, in so great an infinity of Books, it prove not to be superfluous or unprofitable; the whole Glory thereof shall be owing to our Lord: And when the Effect likewise, shall not answer the Desire, at least the goodwill, I trust, shall be had in regard.   

THE TRANSLATOR TO THE ENGLISH READER.  
COURTEOUS READER,  
Behold I put Maffaeus into your Hands, no less Serious, then Delightful, Pious then Elegant, Simple then Admirable; whose Pleasure yet takes not away the Gravity, whose Quaintness the Piety, nor Industry the Simplicity; as being Grave without Severity, Fluent without Superfluity, Terse without Affectation, and full of the Ornament he shuns.  
And I present him to YOU, thus clad, and revested in our English Wee●…es, that he might now walk as familiar amongst US, as in his native Vulgar he hath done: As properly Ours, as Theirs from whence he came. Since, besides that Examples and Lives of SAINTS are universal, and common to the whole Church, some of these are found to be of our Nation.  
Wherein I suppose, that such as are acquainted with the Genius of his neater style, will rather challenge me for attempting it at all; then wonder I should fall so short, if they but consider how hard it is, to frame a perfect Copy, of so rare and genuine a Prototype.  
Yet take it, Gentle Reader, as it is, from him, who holds it a less ill the while to blush thereat, than the glory of such SAINTS should be unknown amongst US.   

THE PREFACE TO THE ENSVING TREATISE Of the Holy Hatred of the World.  

MAN is a Sphere, his Soul th' Intelligence;  
Grace is the Sun that sends his light from hence:  
Virtues the Stars, that glistering deck this frame  
And with their rays give lustre to the same;  
Whose Lights still fixed, which like th' immortal source  
Maintain a constant gyre, a settled course.  
The World's Contempt, Canopus' like, doth keep  
The highest point, most severed from the deep  
And earthly Centre: 'tis the Star that brought  
The Eastern Sages to the Light they sought;  
Which through the Heavens as it his course did run,  
Aurora-like forshewd the following Sun.  
'tis that, which did th' Isaacian squadrons guard,  
And to the promised Land their way prepared;  
And while we float upon these dangerous waves,  
The Cynosura that us wand'ring saves.   

Within the Land, which that mysterious flood  
Fattens with his black slime, and fruitful mud,  
The Crocodile (Nile's Pirate) ever strives  
Of their delicious combs to spoil the hives:  
This to effect, he takes a thousand guiles,  
And summons all his slights, and all his wiles.  
But use is made of that Antipathy  
That is between the Saffron-floure, and he;  
Which planted round doth give assured redress,  
And counter-mands his lust, and greediness.   

This Crocodile, is man's inveterate Foe,  
Th' Apostate Prince of darkness, that doth go  
Ever about to spoil th'increase of Grace,  
And in our souls Gods Image to deface.  
Sensual Delights, Pleasures, Desires to be  
Great in the World, the Philters are that he  
Doth use in this design. The Worlds Disdain  
The Moly is, that saves our souls from bane;  
The Saffron-floure, that drives his force away,  
And guards us safe, that else might be his prey.   

For if the Eye, clear and unblemished,  
Void of all prejudice, accustomed  
In their own colours objects to descry,  
To know Appearance from pure Verity,  
Would take a right survey of what's below,  
The Sphere and Centre of true Bliss to know;  
And not (as those Astronomers, who take  
Great heights by Instruments unequal) make  
Unpardonable errors: So the Sense  
Foretaken, blinding the Intelligence  
(Void of proportion) should presume to reign  
A Handmaid o'er the Mistress; or to gain  
So great pre-eminence, as judge to be  
Of perfect Bliss, or true Felicity:  
Then as in Landskipp's, where we think appear  
Disjoined far parts that indeed are near,  
Little things great: Or as that hellish art  
By altering the Medium, doth impart  
Chimeras to the Senses, and doth make  
Th'astonished Powers for Truth Impostures take:  
We should discern the glossed Alchemy  
Of our allurements, and the vanity  
Of worldly pleasures; and undoubting know  
Our joys are dreams, how ever fair in show.   

We are but Inmates here, and entertained  
As if no Denizens, or rather chained  
In golden fetters; When first Life began,  
A darksome prison closed up wretched man:  
Whence if we rightly come, we fall upon  
An ominous precipitation.  
So witty's ruin, so importunate  
Upon mankind; so seemeth angry Fate  
To envy us the least conceit of joy,  
As all things do conspire to our annoy.  
The Elements, that so much disagree,  
Band against us, their common Enemy:  
Yea, that which, void of substance, Essence takes  
From that first motion which all motions makes,  
Time, measure of our joys, is tedious grown,  
And not by pleasures, but afflictions known;  
Whom Tyrantlike we would deceive, and bend  
(Only to shun, what lest we wish) to end:  
Yet, as if Sorrow's we might not enjoy,  
Or as the Fates did envy our annoy,  
So as they would not grant us Time for woe,  
Our Time's contracted, as Time's larger grow;  
And their increase doth hasten to their wain,  
Hopeless to bring them to their spring again.   

For in the world's first infancy, when man  
Equal wellnigh unto the Spheres, began  
His being, than was absolute, and he  
Enfranchised to Immortality:  
But forfaiting this state, though Death could claim  
And challenge part in him; yet the strong fraime,  
And firm connexion of his parts, did cause  
A lasting union, and a during pause.  
Th'immortal Stars, and Man then seemed to strive,  
joint-tennants to the world, who should survive.  
Now Time, hath Time abridged, our Life's a breath  
Which scarcely drawn, is stopped strait by death.  
The world's in a Consumption, not as then  
We seem mankind, nor the same sons of men;  
And seized as with an Hectic, seems to dance  
His sickly motions, led with discordance.   

Behold how those, which as they move, do give  
By sympathy, to move, to breath, to live:  
The golden Spheres are in their motions changed,  
And from their former courses seem estranged.  
The lively Spring, the Summer we behold  
Like those weak children, who are borne of old  
And sapless Parents, quite degenerate,  
Void of their ancient strength, their vigorous state.  
In vain we seek the stations of the Sun,  
And falsely think the wand'ring Planets run  
Their wont courses: Southward still they fly  
And leave our Clime stained with Impiety.  
So when our Protomartyrs Holy gore,  
Guiltless itself, made guilty Verlam's shore,  
The silver Thames recalled his ancient flood,   

And left the soil distained with sacred blood.  
Distracted Nature, seemeth to have lost  
Coherence, with a thousand Monsters crossed,  
A thousand Prodigies; Proportions gone,  
Strength is decayed, lost is Connexion.  
Sometimes strange Stars affright th'amazed sky,  
The air oft thunders, it not knowing why.  
More strange Conjunctions do the Heavens infest,  
And bloody Comets raise a worse crest.  
Winter yields Flowers, the lusty Ram that bore,  
Through the salt-waves, young Phryxus to the shore  
The barren Earth oft ceaseth to supply,  
And leaves to yield his wont fragrancy.  
Summer is bare: The Dog whom heat did vex,  
With moisture oftener doth the world perplex.  
The furious Winds are fiercer grown; and more,  
The thundering billows rend the conquered shore:  
As when our Isle, from Belgia's fore-land rend,  
Did yield herself to that proud Element.  
So when the Chariot of the golden Sun  
By the first cradle of the world did run;  
In wand'ring from its path, did often stray,  
And ignorant did leave th'vntracked way:  
Or with its proper weight depressed, did take  
A doubtful course, and different times did make  
Confusedly the same; when Heat did cloy  
The Thracian shafts, and Cold the Dog annoy.   

Strange signs are these, yet more than these, doth rage  
Fear in our Hearts that nothing can assuage;  
Mis-giving minds foretell our ills, and show  
Th'unsure condition of the world below,  
Whose Love is source of all these fears. Then kill  
And sacrifice the Cause of all this ill;  
This offering shall thee expiate, and give  
By death deserved, deserved power to live.   

O would our Souls upon themselves reflect,  
And search from whence Content they might expect;  
Which mindful of their birth, do scorn to fly  
At other mark then fair Eternity!  
Then should we see, how like the Towering Fire  
They would to Heaven their home, their Sphere, aspire  
Which only is their Centre. here below  
Hope sails with Fear, and joys with Sorrows flow;  
No true content is had. A tottering sand  
That fleeting yields, and leaves not where to stand  
Is our short life. Our pleasures, like the gold  
The Alchemist produceth, to behold  
Beauteous enough, but by the powerful flame  
Strait turned to smoke, or matter whence it came.  
Our joys are died with Oaker, every shower  
Defaceth their false Lustre. Honours, Power,  
Are only vapours, which the growing day  
Or hotter Sun dissolves, and drives away.  
Beauty's unperfect, like that plenteous fry  
Half flesh, half mud, that on Nile's banks doth lie.  
Riches a crazed Ship, unsure defence  
In need to those that there put confidence.  
Our Knowledge skilful Ignorance; and Art  
The plague Prometheus did to man impart  
By his stolen fire, that makes ou●… souls to fry  
With fevers of fond Curiosity.  
All under Heaven is vain: Wealth, Dignity,  
Knowledge, and Beauty, Principality,  
Are distant from the Sphere where joy doth move;  
Rest d wells below them, Happiness above.   

Then give a little time, and see how here  
These Heròes scorning what the world holds dear,  
Did make a way to Immortality,  
And by Contempt attained Felicity.  
here shall you see no sumptuous Houses fraught  
With Banquets, or with Viands dear bought;  
No costly Beds shining with Tyrian die,  
No jewel fainged for glistering bravery,  
No rooms replete with Musics charming sound,  
No Followers with eyes fixed on the ground:  
But Woods and naked Rocks, and thereupon  
Horror expressed. here base Refection;  
Small time to sleep allotted; Bodies clad  
In basest raiment; Men in penance glad,  
Delighted in their pains, whom Life did tire,  
Whose Hope was Heaven, and Death their chief Desire.   

But yet no cruel Furies do perplex  
Their quiet rest; no pining Cares do vex  
Or trouble their Content; nor Envy clad  
In fair appearance, ever made them sad.  
True Rest, great joys in their small Cells reside,  
And perfect smiles from spotless hearts do glide;  
Whose souls remembering whence they came, contain  
Themselves and Heaven, and strive it to regain.  
Then lose thyself with these, with these to win  
That Heritage, which thou hast lost by Sinne.    

THE TABLE OF THE LIVES.  

S. Malachy, Bishop of Conner then in Ireland. pag. 1.  
S. Antony Abbot, & Ermite in Egypt. pag. 64.  
S. Pachomius Abbot in Thebais of Egypt. pag. 121.  
S. Martin Bishop of Towers in France. pag. 155.  
S. Fulgentius Bishop of Ru●…pa in Africa. pag. 193.  
S. Theodosius Abbot of Magariassa in Cappadocia. pag. 217.  
S. Benet Abbot, & Father of all Monks in the West. pag. 235.  
S. Stephen the first King of Hungary. pag. 259.  
S. Edward Confessor, King of England. pag. 287.  
S. Anselm Bishop of Canterbury. pag. 308.  
S. Otho Bishop of Bamberge in Germany. pag. 169.  
S. Bernard Abbot of Clarevall in France. pag. 187.  
S. Hugh Bishop of Lincoln. pag. 155.  
S. Antony of Milan. pag. 282.  
S. Thomas of Aquine, the Angelical Doctor. pag. 316.  
B. Andrew Bishop of Fesula in Italy. pag. 344.  
B. Laurence justinian first Patriarch of Venice. pag. 361.    

S. MALACHY.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

Born in the Land, surrounded with the main  
Of the Vergivian deep, S. MALACHY  
Appears, and shows unpolisht shells contain  
Pearls often fraught with richest bravery.  
We honour by our deeds, not Countries gain,  
And do ourselves infect, unstaynd thereby,  
And learn to note, how ere we rise or fall,  
We, and our Soils are not reciprocal.   

See how in tender years the world he leaves,  
And from his childhood bears th'appointed cross:  
Tried with affliction, nothing Grace bereaves,  
No pains are hard, no worldly damage loss;  
No false allurements move, no fraud deceyves  
Him of his hopes, no Vanity doth toss  
His constant soul, nor from his Haven drive;  
Where we, if like, shall like to him arrive.    

THE LIFE OF S. MALACHY BISHOP OF IRELAND,  Written by S. Bernard. 

Of his Birth, Minority, and the first Flower of his Youth. Chap. I.  
SAINT MALACHY, borne in Hybernia, or as we call it, Ireland, in the City of Ardmach, was there through the particular favour of the Divine Clemency, bred and brought up in such sort, as from the Native Barbarism of the place, he drew no more than Fishes do from the brackish Seas. Whence it comes to be a thing most delightful, that so uncivil and rude a Nation, should seem to yield us a person of so gentle behaviour, & celestial manners. He who derives the honey from Stones, & fetches oil from the hardest Rocks, hath moreover wrought this 〈◊〉. True it is, the Parents of S. Malachy were both of noble Blood, and of high Degree; and the Mother no less generous of Mind than Lineage, was very solicitous to show to the Child, as yet tender, the true way of Salvation, making a great deal more reckoning thereof, then of the swelling Literature o●… the world, and yet wanted not the Child a good towardness for either of both professions. In school he learned the Grammar, at home the fear of God; & continually through his profit, did satisfy both Mother and Master. Which thing should not seem to others to be any whit untrue; he having through especial favour from heaven, the lot to have so good a Soul, which made him as well docible, as strangely amiable and gracious.  
From Mother's breast, instead of milk, he sucked the waters of wisdom, and day by day, became more wise. More wise, shall we say, or more Holy? If I say, both the one and other, I should not much repent me, because I should have said but truth. For manners he was grave, a child indeed years, but void of childish sportfullnes: and howbeit, held in veneration and admiration of all, yet became he not thereby, as generally others do haughty or insolent, but rather quiet and submiss with all meckenes. He was not impatient of government; not stubborn to discipline; not dull for studies; and finally not delighted with games, the proper and general affect of that age: so as in learning, which was competent for him, he outstripped all his equals of the same age▪ but in Goodness of life and purchase of virtues, he excelled as many, as taught him; and that not only through the industry of his Mother, but even also by the Unction of the spirit; wherewith being interiorly solicited & pushed on, he was never backward in divine Exercises; as to retire himself in solitude; to meditate the holy law of Christ; to make o●…en prayer; to be temperate in dyet; to vanquish sleep. And whereas from public frequenting of Churches he was partly hindered through school, and partly kept back through a certain respectful modesty; yet forbore he not the less, to lift up his Mind to the supernal Father, & to adore him even likewise with exterior gestures, wheresoever in secret he could find occasion there unto: being at such times very cautious and circumspect to eschew vain glory, the most certain poison of virtues.  
There lies not far off from Ardmach, a village whither his Master went often to walk, without other company, the this beloved Disciple. Now therefore on a time, while they were walking both together, Malachy observing the Master in a deep study with himself, making a step (as he related afterwards) remained somewhat behind, and on the sudden lifting up his innocent hands from the how of his 〈◊〉 ever bend▪ 〈◊〉 forth inflamed jaculatoryes to the Stars; & for not to be discovered, very ●…lyly would he be putting himself again somewhat handsomely on the way: and with so pious a theft, would the blessed youth from time to time be deceiving his Guide. It boots not here to relate all the acts, which made his greener years very illustrious and admirable. My pen makes ●…hast to much greater things. And yet nevertheless will I not seem to let pass this one thing by the way, which in that tenderness of his, gave matter, not only of a good, but of a sovereign hope.  
Being now arrived at last somewhat towards the end of the first arts, and thirsting after the graver Sciences, being moved through the fame of a learned Doctor, he went his ways with great diligence; though somewhat far off, to be acquainted with him. But finding him at his entering into the house very busy, scoring of the wall very impertinently with an awl, being disgusted with such a levity, and immediately pulling back his foot from thence, he had no list to re●…te him any more; so much (howbeit never so greedy of Learning he were) he preferred honesty before knowledge. In this sort then, he passed over his childish years, and yet in Youth retained he still, as it were, the same tenor of candour & purity; sau●… only that together with years, did Wisdom and grace, both with God and men alike increase in him: with this beside, that continually there began more high and sage reflections, and discourses to awake in his breast. For that the prudent youth beholding on the one side the malignity of the world, and on the other the quality of the Spirit which swayed within his mind; came more than once to speak within himself in this sort.  
My spirit is no whit secular; for what hath it to do therewith, since there is no more resemblance between them, then between night and day? Mine seems, to proceed from God, nor am I ignorant of the gifts, which he hath vouchsafed me. From him, do I acknowledge the stole of innocency I enjoy, with the flower of continency in me preserved hitherto. From him, that glory of mine so much securer, as it is more secret, consisting wholly in the testimony of the proper conscience. None of all which possessions can abide without much danger under the Prince of this naughty world. Besides, I go carrying so great a treasure in an earthen vessel, and there is good reason to fear, lest it come to take a knock, and be broken, & the Oil of gladness within be unhappily spilt. And how is it possible not to take a knock among so many stones, & amidst so many rocks of this way, & life so full of turnings, windings, & rubs? And shall I seem in a moment to be losing of all these blessings of holy sweetness, wherewith the Eternal Goodness from the beginning hath prevented me? Rather I resolve to secure the same in the hand of him, who hath given it me, & myself likewise therewith; since also I am his, I will temporally lose my life for not to lose it eternally. And where may the same with my being, & all what I am, be in more safety, then in the right hand of the giver? For who is more wary than he in keeping? who more potent in deffending, and more faithful in restoring? He will keep it safely; he will restore it in his tyme. I shall not lose a jot of whatsoever I shall seem to distribute in works of piety. Perhaps moreover, I may look for a good return. This magnificent Bancher, is wont to redouble with usury, the things which he hath given of courtesy. Such were the thoughts of S. Malachy, and he really went about to execute the same, as knowing most clearly, that good wills without good effects ●…re of little, or no profit.   

How S. Malachy submits himself to the discipline of Imarius, and 〈◊〉 first. made Deacon, and then Priest. Chap. 2.  
THERE was a holy man in Ardmach, Imarius by name, of a very austere life, and a most implacable chastiser of his proper flesh; he dwelled reclused in a Cell, near the great Church, in performing there very hard penance with continual prayer. To this man went S. Malachy to be instructed, and guided in a spiritual life, by him, though living, yet voluntarily condemned to the grave. And though from a Child (as we said) he had God himself for Master in the art of loving God, yet now more ancient, as a rude disciple, would he needs submit himself to the rule of a man. here now let those note well this point, who undertake to teach the same which they have not learned, and go gathering and multiplying Scholars without ever having been at school; blind guiders of the blind. And if S. Malachyes example suffice them not, yet let them mark what the Apostle S. Paul practised. For had not he, trow you received the Gospel from Christ himself? And yet thought he it not amiss to communicate the same with men, lest his way & labours might prove otherwise in vain. Where S. Paul holds not himself secure▪ do I hold me less. And let him who understands it otherwise, beware his security prove not presumption.  
But return we now to the fact of S. Malachy, whose fame being incontinently spread, all were astonished at such a novelty; but yet all not discoursed alike thereof. Many through humane affect▪ were bitterly sorry, that ●…o delicate●… a youth, and or so good disposition should so of his own choice be obliged to so great sharpness & austerity. Others attributing the fame to fickleness and youthful he●… disdainfully blamed him, for putting himself uponan enterprise, so far beyond his forces. But they wrongfully laid the blame upon him, while he could not be culpable of temerity, who so adhered to the counsel of the Prophet, saying: It is good for him, th●… shall carry the yoke, from his youth. But such an act in S. Malachy seemed so straight a way, as had not been seen to be trod by others steps; nor until that time, had any Student of the same Academy ever entered in. So as he was feign to be exercised a good while without a fellow of anyranke, sitting in silence and submission, all the while at the feet of Imarius, and refining his understanding & will with entire Obedience, with perpetnall mortification, and with all those industries and arts, which easily conduct a soul, that is both fervent and meek, to the top of evangelical perfection. It was not long nevertheless, that others being inflamed through his example, began to give themselves to the self same Discipline they seemed to abhor so much the other day: In so much as where he was solitary at first, and the only son of his Father, very soon he came to be the eldest of many Brothers; but as he was more ancient in Conversation, so was he more sublime in Contemplation. Whence he seemed to the Archbishop Celsus, as likewise to Imarius, who by this time knew him well, to be worthy of Sacred Deaconship, & so they ordained him.  
From that time this new Levit, seemed to buckle himself publicly to all the works of piety, but especially to those which are ordinarily held in most contempt with others. And with particular diligence would he attend to the Funerals & Exequys of the Poor decea●…ed, whiles this Office to him seemed to be of no less humility, than humanity. And therein our Toby had the temptation of a wicked woman, or rather of the ancient Serpent, by her means, because a Sister of his▪ esteeming it a dishonour to her, that he should employ himself in such affairs. What dost thou (would she say) thou fool as thou art? Let the dead go, and bury their dead. And with such sayings▪ would she never c●…se to molest him▪ every day. But the foolish woman had her answer given her, very apt thereunto; O wretch, you seem to know well▪ the Syllables of the sacred Sentence, but not awhit the sense thereof. And so in this sort would he be cheerfully pursuing that Exercise, so grateful to the eyes of the Divine Goodness. And for his perseverance therein, his▪ Superiors holding him moreover to be worthy, of Priesthood, without delay promoted him there to, notwithstanding all the resistance which he could make. S. Malachy▪ was found at that time, to be 25▪ years of age. In which two Ordinations, if the Decree of the Ca●…ns were not strictly observed, which prescribes the 25. to the one. & the 30. year to the other, it may well be imputed, both to the zeal of the Ordaynant, and merits of the Ordained. True it is, that as such anticipation of time in so eminent a subject, is no way reprehensible; so for my part I would not seem to counsel the same to any other quality of persons. But yet the same was not though to the judicious Archbishop, who made him moreover his▪ Vicat in the preaching of the divine Word, and in the Careohisme of that rude and savage people. Nor was S. Malachy 〈◊〉 of his ●…auayle, but rather with fervour, accepted the same, as not willing 〈◊〉 cover▪ the talents▪ he had, but to negotiate with them, according to the will of the Highest.   

Thelabours and travels of S. Malachy in his functions, and how he goeth to Ma●…i Bi●…op of Lesmo●… Chap. 3.  
BEhold how S. Malachy anon, with his mystical tools, p●…ts himself▪ to del●… up stumps to break up lands▪ to tread out path●…aies, to lovell banks, & with a Giant's hart to be a●…hād, now here now there. He seemed to be a flame amidst the Forests, & a hook among naughty plants. In lie●… of barbarous, customs, he inserts Ecclesiastical rites. All rank superstitious (which were not few) all diabolical charms, & finally whatsoever heretofore he judged to 〈◊〉 disordinate, indecent▪ or out of square, endured not long in his fight, but as fruit with the hail, or as dust with winds. So before the face of this holy Reformer, abuses and vices were quite defeated or dispersed. But as on every▪ side he endeavoured to set down Laws & Rules full of justice and honesty, yet laboured he still with particular care to incroduce the Apostolical Constitutions, the approved Counsels, and above all the Traditions and Observances of the holy Roman Church. And hence it grew, that whereas at first, no●… so much as in the principal Cities of Ireland, were Divine Offices celebrated with solemn harmony; now, not only in Cities, but in Towns and Villages also, were sung the Masses, and Canonical hours, no less then in the rest of Christianity. Whereto it helped not a little, that S. Malachy from a youth had attended to his part in Music. But that which more imports, he renewed the use of the Sacraments, and in particular of Confession, Confirmation, and of Matrimony, things that either out of malice, or ignorance, had been heretofore as it were, wholly forgotten, and dismissed.  
Amidst these labours and travails, and many others, which for brevity sake are letpasse; we may believe for certain, this Servant of Christ, had received great gusts and consolations from heaven: and yet nevertheless, being as he was of a most delicate Conscience, & thinking very lowly of himself, & for that to him it seemed he had neither practice nor Learning sufficient for so high employments; those same delights came to be much watered, with a continual sear which he had, least through his imprudence any opinions or customs might be introduced in some points discordant to the Custom of Catholic Institutes. So as, to get out of these anxietyes, for his better instruction, he was resolved, with the approbation of the Prelates, to transfer himself for a time to Malcus' Bishop of Lesmor, being a famous City of Momonia, in the Southern part of Ireland. Which Malcus, being now surcharged with years, as well for profoundness of wisdom, as for singular sanctity of life, & likewise for the gift of Miracles which he had; was held in those Regions, as an Oracle of Truth, and a common refuge of the afflicted. S. Malachy being courteously received by this good oldman, while he carefully ministers to him, and likewise with diligence goes on observing the things appertaining to divine Service, & to the cure of Souls, through an unlooked for accident, was a noble field laid open to him to exercise Charity.   

How Cormacus King of Momonia repairs to Malcus; and being put out of his Kingdom, is by friendly saccours restored again. Chap. 4.  
IRELAND in those times (as it likewise aught to be at this present) was divided into certain little kingdoms, and by consequence subject to wars, seditions, and tumults. Now there being a great discord risen between Cormacus King of Momonia, & a wicked brother of his; the King being vanquished in battle, and thirst out of his seat, made his recourse in person to the Bishop Malcus, to be succoured by him; not for recovering his sceptre, but rather to save his soul, as being timourous of him, who takes away the spirit of Princes, & as very much alienated from shedding of Christian blood for temporal interests. At the news of such a Guest, did Malcus make preparation to receive him with due honour: but he would not consent thereto, affirming his intention was to live with him in a private and quiet manner; and laying aside all memory of royal pomps, to betake himself to the discipline, and fare of the other Canonists. Malcus, at such a resolution by how much more astonished, accepting the offer of a contrite hart, assigned to the King a little house to lodge in, S. Malachy for his Master, with bread and water for his sustenance. Nor did the Prince himself desire hence forth any cheer or delicates; remaining in a place of all other sweetness most satisfied with the incorruptible gusts and celestial viands ministered him by S. Malachy. Through which, notwithstanding remaining more mollifyed, he rightly bewailed his sins, and extinguished the incentives of the flesh, with baths of the coldest water, with David, crying to our Lord: Behold my ●…asenes and my misery, & pardon me all my offences. Nor were the Sovereign judge's ears found deaf to such a prayer; but rather heard he the supplication made, not only in the sense he uttered it, wholly spiritual and internal; but even like wise (conformable to his infinite Goodness) in the material and extrin●…ecall. And as he reserves not all sentences to the Tribunal there, he was pleased to succour likewise in this life, the depressed innocency of Cormacus, by exciting the spirit of a certain King near unto Momonia into so great an indignation for the injustice offered, as that coming in post to the Cell of the poor Penitent, he laboured to encourage him to a generous return, in setting the goodness of the cause before him, the perfidiousness of the Rebels, the favourable right hand of the Highest; & this, for the more efficacy with fervent exhortations, mingled with large promises. With engines thus addressed, he sought to stir up & provoke that afflicted Prince, but perceiving the objects of Sovereignty, and motives of self-love, were not of force enough to prevail with him, he turned himself with dexterity, to those of Christian piety, and the public weals most lively representing to him the miserable oppression of his subjects the insolences and injuries of the intruding Tyrant, and the obligation which a lawful and natural Lord hath to deliver, to his power, his vassals from so great afflictions and miseries. In which point the friendly King dilated himself with greater vehemency than before, as hoping sure with such a battery at last to make the mind of Cormacus to render up its hold.  
But finding him to be firm notwithstanding all this, in his determination, & more fixed then ever; at last, as to a sacred Anchor, he made his repair to Malcus the Bishop, and to S. Malachy: who both being voluntarily inclined thereto, as to be the greater glory of God, without much difficulty was he won to their opinion. In such sort as Cormacus enforced through the authority and command of both the one and other, did finally accept the humanity & promptness of his Neighbour, and with his aid, and much more through his presence Who can do all, the impious and wicked Intruder was put to flight, and he not without the infinite joy of the people, was installed again into his Royal throne; and from that time ever after did he love and respect S. Malachy. Who after he had for some time, not without notable improvement, enjoyed the familiarity and discourses of Malcus, being by Letters and Messages recalled by Celsus, and Imarius. (who could no longer endure his absence) he accordingly made his return back into his Country.   

How S. Malachy had a vision, and delivers his sister's soul from Purgatory: with the noble resolution of his Uncle, in surrending up an abbey to S. Malachy. Chap. 5.  
IN the mean time his Sister was departed this life, of whom we made some mention above. Concerning her, it behoves us not to pass over in silence a Vision, which the Man of God had. Because that although while she lived in flesh, he abhorred her behaviour, in such sort, as that after some years, he made a vow not to see her any more: yet now she being quit of body, he himself remained discharged of the vow: and began to revisit her in spirit, whom he had no will to see ever any more alive. For so much as on a night, it seemed to him in sleep, that he was advertised by a Man in haste, that his Sister attended without, in the Church yard in a brown habit, without having tasted any thing for these thirty days together. At which voice, now S. Malachy being a waked, he presently understood, what manner of famine tormented her: and exactly casting up the time, he found it had been just thirty days, since he had said Mass for her. And in regard the Servant of Christ loved the soul, as much as he hated the imperfections of his Sister, without delay he returned to his suffrages so intermitted. Nor was it long ere the dead Woman appeared to him, upon the three shall of the Church (but yet bard from entering in) and apprelled in black. But her Brother persevering still in assisting her without ever omitting any morning, wherein some Sacrifice was not offered up for her, he espied her very soon in a grayish gown, within the Church indeed, but not admitted as yet to the Altar. In sum, he ceased not to celebrate for such intention, until finally she appeared to him, not only within the Church, but even likewise near to the Altar in a white garment, amidst a most happy troop of blessed Spirits, who in like manner having now finished the purgative pains, were noted with the same candour. Whence clearly appears, how great is the value and force of the Sacr●…d Mass, to the cancelling of sins, to vanquish the adverse powers, and to lead into Heaven, the Creatures taken out of the earth, and mire, or rather from the mouth of Hell itself. S. Malachy took exceeding contentment at so certain a Delivery of his Sister, and felt no less joy in himself for the pious and magnanimous resolution of an Uncle of his. The which, to the end it may the better be understood, & pondered, this it was.  
We must understand, that in a place of those parts, called Benchor, was anciently founded a Monastery, by a certain holy Abbot, called Congellus, with so prosperous increase, as well of means, as of subjects, as that from thence, as from a fruitful Metropolis were sent, as it were, infinite Colonies into diverse regions. And it is a constant rumour, that one child only of that Blessed Congregation, called Silvanus, had planted alone in diverse countries, full a hundred Conuents. From thence came also S. Columbanus into France, and after into Italy, and among other Monasteryes erected that of Laxonium, so numerous, and frequent, as that the Quires succeeding by turns, there was no intermission had from divine Offices, perpetually night, or day. But that of Benchor, as the origin and fountain of all, retained the chief dignity, until such time, as through the fury of the outrageous Freebooters, it was wholly destroyed, yet withal enriched with a great number of venerable Reliques●… since, besides so many other bodies of Religious Men, who there reposed in peace, there were by the same Freebooters, in one day only, marryred and slain nine hundred. With so cruel a destruction, that most noble Seminary though quite extinct, yet the inhabitants notwithstanding, ceased not successively, to create by a certain form, a Secular Abbot, who without any thought of Religion, attended only to the gathering up of rents, and converting them sacrilegiously to his proper uses.  
In this time now, S. Malachy had an Uncle (of whom we spoke before) who had this rich abbey in his hands: who either pricked with a Synderisis, or sting of conscience, or moved with the Examples and Exhortations of his wise Nephew, determined while he had space for wholesome penance, not only to quit his hands of such administration, but to renounce the world outright, and to apply that huge benefice, together with his person to divine worship, and to the institutes of S. Malachy; who notwithstanding he were under the direction of Imarius had now begun to have many imitators and followers. The man of God being glad of such a Vocation, did voluntarily accept of the care of his Uncle, and the plot, for some restauration of the building. But as one tenacious of the poverty of Christ, would by no means admit of the possessions, suffering the people to depute another to such affairs. The which afterwards (as we shall see in its place) repaid the beneficence of the divine man, with abominable ingratitude. The renuntiation being made in this sort, and the possession taken of the holy place, S. Malachy by commission of Imarius went thither with ten brothers, and some Carpenters, and immediately put himself to work. Nor was it long, ere that, in approbation as it were of the enterprise, there happened upon the fact, a notable wonder.   

S. Malachy works a miracle, and is made rector of the foresaid abbey: with one, or two miracles besides. Chap. 6.  
ON a day S. Malachy, for the encouragement of others, was labouring with his proper hands, & with great diligence hewing of certain timber. Now while he stood with the axe suspended in the air, as ready to give the stroke; behold one of the workmen, improvidently putting himself between the arm of S. Malachy, and the axe, received the whole blow upon the very ridge of the back, which should have fallen plump upon the designed ●…biect, when presently, being deprived of his senses, he fell down ●…r dead. At the sight whereof every one came running in with pit●…full cries. The wound was searched, and the shirt was found to 〈◊〉 slit from the collar to the reynes, but the flesh wholly entire, and ●…ot hurt, except, that only the upper skin was only touched so lightly, as the mark thereof could hardly be discerned; so as the labourer arose suddenly very joyful and lusty, with so much the more gladness of the standers by, as more probably it hence was con●…uded, that their travails and pains, as we said, were grateful and acceptable to the Divine Goodness. Whereupon with fresh vigour they set themselues to work again. So as in few days was the Pratory finished with polished timber, & firm couple, a work ●…or those swains and people, very gracious. And this was the beginning of the miracles of S. Malachy; & from that time began they to attend afresh to divine Offices with like piety, though not with equal number of persons.  
There S. Malachy himself was rector a good while, through commaundent of Imarius. Who as he was of degree above others, so likewise in his deportments was he a living Rule, & bright glass, and as a book laid open to those Clerks, for as much as in all his proceedings, there were true precepts of Religious conversation to be read. And he not only, in common observance, seemed to go always before that little flock, in sanctity & justice in the sight of God; but would moreover be doing particular pennances, and other acts of Perfection, which no man was able to equal. Which things the common Adversary, not being able to brook, put into the hart of a familiar friend there about, lying sick, (whose name was Malcus) that S. Malachy coming in to him, as he was wont to visit him, he should suddenly with a knife give him his death. The good Father, being aware thereof, (the sick man not being able to keep it in silence) betaking himself to the arms of prayer did notwithstanding freely present himself before him, and with the Sign of the Cross, on a sudden banished the malady from his body, & the diabolical thought from his mind. This man was the natural brother of Christianus, ●…bbot of Mellifont. He was converted to our Lord upon so great a benefit, and with the habit took upon him new behaviour: & at this day do both live a great deal more united in spirit then blood.  
In the self same place he restored to health, a certain Clerk, named Michael, afflicted with a most grievous dissentery, and despaired of Physicians, with the only sending him from his table a little of his portion. This Michael fell afterwards into another dangerous malady, and the servant of Christ cured him anon, not only in his limbs, but in his mind also; & he in like manner for fear of worse did enter into Religion, and is now (as I understand) abiding in Scotland, Superior of the Monastery, which S. Malachy founded lately in those parts.   

S. Malachy is made Bishop of Conerthen. His labours there, and the fruit which he wrought in that Diocese. Chap. 7.  
BY such actions as these, the same and family of this great Abbot increased every day; so as the Church of Conerthen, not far from Benchor, having been now a long time vacant, those to whom belonged the Election of the Bishop, resolved upon the person of S. Malachy; nor did any thing hinder the expedition, but the resistance only of the Elect himself. Although afterwards, at last, he was commanded by Celsus and Imarius his lawful Superiors, to yield & afford his Consent, being as then of the age of about some 30. years. When after the solemn Consecration, being led into the City, he suddenly applied himself to exercise of his pastoral Office, with such ardour of spirit, as was requisite for so important a cure.  
But scarce had he begun the government, when he saw himself doubtless to be there not destined for the rule of men, but, setting Baptism aside, very properly of beasts. In no place had he ever yet noted a people of so ill a breeding; of so detestable superstitions of so stiff a hart to Faith-wards; so uncapable to law; so untoward to good institutes; nor finally of so soul and dishonest conversation. They were Christians by name, in life Pagans. There was no use of Tithes, or tendering the first fruits, nor of Confession, or demanding penances; nor likewise who to demand them of, so rare were Priests in those parts; and those that were to be had, so negligent & careless, as in Churches was no preaching, or divine Office sung. In this Forest now of savage beasts, what course should this Champion of Christ take? Of force must he either shamefully retire himself, or else combat with danger. But he as a good Soldier & good Pastor withal, determined to stand fast, and not to budge a foot, as ready to give up his life, for his flock, when need should ●…uire the same.  
And howbeit, it might well be fayd, they were not sheep, but so many wolves; yet stood the courageous Keeper amidst the 〈◊〉, seeking by all ways and remedies, from wolves to render them 〈◊〉 Sheep. So as he ceased not fervently to admonish all in public & with tears to reprehend every one in private; here to use Word●…, there to deal with tharpenes. And such like means would 〈◊〉 continually be using, to draw them out of the snares of the devil, where with they were so fast entangled. And if these his pious endeavours failed, he would seem to recurre to Prayer; and accompany his Devotions with profound humility of hart, & propitiatory afflictions of body. How many nights passed he over without ●…epe, and in making supplication for them? How often in person, went he in the City up and down a seeking of the fugitives, and constraining them with sweet violence to appear in the Church? Nor was the faithful Steward of Christ less anxious for the souls, which were scattered through the Country, hastening now here, now there, with that holy troop of Conuictours, never from his side. He went, and dealt among those spiteful & thankless people, whole measures of corn, which some reaped in such abundance, that atlast they became fit to be laid up in God's barn. And let no man think, he used to ride in any of these journeys: for lo, he wal●…d continually a foot; she wing himself even in this point, to be 〈◊〉 Apostolical Person. Nor is there a tongue able to express, what this Father, tender of such cruel and wicked Children, hath suffered in so frequent Pilgrimages, and Episcopal visits. The tribulations, affronts, and injuries, which he sustained cannot fully be related. How often through their faults, was he like to perish for huger, and thirst? How often afflicted with cold, and nakedness? & with a thousand other incommodityes? And yet still, with the Enemies of peace was he pacifical, and still importuned them in season & ●…ut of season, to amend their wicked lives. For cu●…es, he afforded blessings: being strooken, he would ward himself with the buckler of Patience: being scorned and made a laughing stock, he prayed more instantly to God for them: and persevering after this manner so long in knocking at the gate of the Divine Mercy, at last, it was 〈◊〉 open to him, & through the power of the Omnipotent, the stones were mollifyed, barbarism mitigated, and crabbed minds began to mellow, and by little and little to acquaint themselves with things appertaining to their salvation, & to admit of discipline & precepts. And in sum, through divine Grace, they were snatched out, as it were, from the claws of the ravenous and greedy devourer, in whose hands they had always been; out of whose diabolical custody being set free, they made so notable a change, as at this day to those people, these words suit well, which God seemed to utter by Esay the Prophet: The people which heretofore were none of mine, are now become my people.   

The City of Conerthen is destroyed, and S. Malachy with his, repayret●… Cormacus. The Church of Ardmach fell into Seculars. With the Resolution of Celsus thereupon. Chap. 8.  
AFTER a certain number of years now passed over, for better purging of sins, succeeded an incursion upon them, by the barbarous Inhabitants of the North, when a great part of the City of Conerthen was destroyed: in so much as S. Malachy, with his Religious, who were about an hundred and twenty, was constrained to go his ways out of that City. But yet his departure from thence, proved not altogether unprofitable, because that repairing himself into the kingdom of Momonia (whereof we have spoken before) he erected there a goodly Monastery, at the cost of Cormacus, being very mindful of the good Offices, and Charity afforded him, in time of his banishment. So as besides his coming in person to meet and receive him, and his conversing with him afterwards, & with the rest of his Company, with much familiarity & love, he concurred moreover, as we said, very royally to the Fabric. Whereby in short time it was fully accomplished, and wonderfully increased in annual rents, and movables; and that which is yet more to be esteemed, in subjects. Who, to the end, they might walk with the better will, by the straight and difficult way, the Blessed Man ceased not, being a Bishop, and a Master as he was, as if but then he had newly become a Novice, to be the first in observing the Traditions and Rules.  
He served in his turn, now in the Kitchen, now in the Refectory. In the Antiphons', Lessons, Ceremonies, or labours of the Choir, he would have no manner of privilege at all, performing always his part, as one of the least. here likewise he showed himself to be so ardent a lover of voluntary Poverty, as in courting and ●…uing the same, among all the Rivals there was none could seem 〈◊〉 come any whit near him. And howbeit for the maintenance of 〈◊〉 place, he judged it fit to admit of rents in common; he was yet notwithstanding very vigilant, lest the public, through human fra●…y, might degenerate into private. Amidst such cares as these, whi●…st in holy peace he advanceth by all means, the profit of his, & ●…e glory of God, for his greater probation, there came an assault ●…on him, no less slyly, then unlooked for. Which truly the better 〈◊〉 understand, it shall be needful for us to fetch the narration a pretty ●…ay off.  
The Church of Ardmach, as it is the Mother of the other Church's 〈◊〉 Ireland, so is it more illustrious and far more reverenced, than 〈◊〉. Besides that, here was the residence of S. Patrick, and the sa●…ed bones here left of that first Apostle, & first Father of all those Nations. Whose fame & esteem with great reason, is here so famous, ●…at even his Successors, be what they will, do come to be feared ●…d obeyed, not only of the inferior, & the rest of the Clergy, but ●…en likewise of any Baron, Lord, or Peer of the Island. But as all ●…e affairs of mortal men, seem ever to incline to the worse, there ●…d entered in now a good while since, a very execrable abuse; to retain (forsooth) the Pastoral Chair in a certain family: In so much as from one Usurper passing to another, it had there so endu●…d now for fifteen continual generations, and under a Diabolical title of imaginary Prescription, they were so rooted in the wicked possession, as that when there were found to be no Clerks in the family, they would be substituting the married: and of the ●…me condition, before Celsus, there had been to the number of ●…ght, men though learned for the most, yet as I said, without sacred Orders. And hence came the dissolution of the whole Christianity with the spiritual ruin and temporal likewise of all Ireland, in creating and changing here & there Bishops, at every ca●…riccio of the wicked Metropolitan: yea a thing which was never ●…eard of, in making in one Bishopric only, for every people, as 〈◊〉 were, an infamous Bishop, with a hellish multiplication of most unworthy administratours.  
Now then to take away so pernicious a scandal, it pleased the Divine Majesty, the Mitre should lastly light on the head of Celsus; Who though of the same stock, yet notwithstanding he being pricked with the fear of God, as soon as through a mortal infirmity he perceived the end of his days to approach, he determined to put in execution the design, which he had a pretty while before; that is, to cut off indeed, that infenall line of inheritance, by freely yielding up the Archbish opricke into the hands of S. Malachy, whose reputation and credit he knew well to be very sufficient in this case, to purchase to himself the favour of the City, and to oppose himself as a firm wall to the ambition and greediness of Tyrants.  
To which effect, as it were by way of Testament, he declared his mind to be, that the Sea being vacant, by all means the holy Bishop Malachy should be placed therein, since there was not to be found a person, more deserving it then he. To which purpose he most earnestly desired that the Primacy might be (after his decease) transferred upon him. For the better manifestation of his arden●… desire, he not only declared this intent viva voce, to the standers by, but even likewise did intimate and recommend the same by letters and precepts, on the behalf of S. Patrick to such as were absent, and especially to personages of quality; and very particularly to both the Kings of the upper and lower Momoni●…. These through divine inspiration were the thoughts of Celsus: and they had a glad success, though not so easy, nor yet so speedy as he would have wished.   

S. Malachy is elected Bishop. Mauritius holds stillpossession, whilst S. Malachy refusing the charge, is enforced by Malcus, and the Pope's Leg●… to accept it. Chap. 9  
THE occasion of the delay, was, for that Celsus departing this life, & the Electours being come to the Diet, the greater & better number of suffrages, without controversy elected S. Malachy: and the rest of the voices were for a certain Cousin of Celsus, called Mauritius. This man through his presence and power overswaying quite all justice and reason, was temerariously planted in the archiepiscopal Throne, to the infinite grief of all good men, and especially of Malcus the Bishop (even now so extolled by us) and of the Bishop Gilbert, Legate of the Apostolic Sea, for all the Kingdoms of Ireland. These two great Prelates, with many others of each quality, made great instance, and offered whatsoever they were worth ●…o S. Malachy, not to refuse to enter into Ardmach, and to take upon him the spiritual government thereof, according 〈◊〉 the determination of Celsus. But the humble servant of Christ▪ ●…o esteemed every climbing to be his own precipice; stood very ●…e in refusing the interprize, while he thought he had a good pre●…t for the same, through the peril of seditions and tumults, that ●…ght happen to arise thereupon. With such delays were now 〈◊〉 years already passed, when the two zealous Bishops above ●…ntioned, being not longer able to endure the adultery of the ●…me Church of Ireland, and the dishonour of Christ, assembling ●…ew the Clergy & Princes, & with common consent made their ●…ourse to S. Malachy, as pressed to constrained him with main force, ●…case he should seem to perseue●… in the negative.  
But the Friend of quietness still showed himself to be more ●…ckward, alleging the difficulties of the business▪ the multitude, 〈◊〉 power, the covetousness of the Adversaries; that he had not ●…rage in ough to stand in contention with the meanest fellow▪ ●…d much less with so many, and such as those, and for the space of 〈◊〉. years so rooted in the Sanctuary, whence how should he 〈◊〉 be able to 〈◊〉 them ou●…, they being especially his Ancestors 〈◊〉 possession? Nor was it worth the while, tha●… for his occasion ●…ould follow man slaughters, and the earth by died with human ●…oud. And he finally objected the conjunction he had already made with another lawful Spouse, from whom he saw no reason how ●…e could disunite himself. With such like words and defences, the dexterous Soldier went skir●…ishing in the continual velitati●…ns and assaults of them that loved him so much. But his Friends not with standing all this, now afresh pressed him hard, and much more those that were of greater authority, to accept of the archiepiscopal government. Which he again denying, they threatened him with open Excommunication; for now they would not admit of any excuse. Whereupon he made them this final Reply: You draw me violently to my ●…uyne (said the holy Man) and I will follow, whilst it seems to me, I shall he●…rby gain the glorious Crown of Martyrdom. But if no persuasions will content you, let us make a bargain first, ere I enter into the field? That if it shall please God (according to your desire) to put some order in affairs, and to take out of impious hands the dominion usurpatiously possessed, there may be some other sufficient rector immediately substituted into the dignity, that you now go about to put upon me: and that I be licenced to return again to my present Spouse, and to my most beloved Poverty.  
This was the last and most resolute answer of S. Malachy, Whereby very clearly may be seen a great purity conjoined with an equal Fortitude; since on the one side without simulation he fled honour; and for justice sake on the other, he feared not death.  
In sum, by no means for prayers or threats, would he seem to yield his assent thereto, until such time as promise and firm word was given him, upon the conditions propounded. Assoon as he was in security thereof, he finally accommodated himself to assume the charge; & so much the rather, as besides the unanimous, and persevering instances of such like personages, it seemed to him he had yet some other manifest signs of the divine will: whereof one is worthy of ponderation, and very considerable. There appeared to him (even about the sickness of Celsus, while he was then a far off, and knew nothing thereof) a woman of a tall stature, and of a grave aspect, who being demanded by him, who she was, made him answer, she was the Wife of Celsus, and without more ado, putting the staff of government into his hand, she suddenly vanished. And within a few days after, while Celsus now drew near to his death, he really sent him indeed in sign of Succession, a rod even just of the figure of the same Fantastic one. The memory whereof, and the correspondency of the times, was a matter of much moment in the mind of S. Malachy, and justly made him fear, least standing out longer, in such an occasion, he might seem apparently to wrestle with God himself. He accepted then the charge; but yet without ever entering into the City, whiles the intruder lived; and the same he did, for not to give on his part any manner of perturbation, by which otherwise they might hap to lose their lives, to whom he was rather come to afford the same. So as for the space of two years, (for so long that ambitious man escaped) did S. Malachy attend to exercise the office, abroad through the Province.   

●…ritius being dead, Nigrettus succeeded. A Diet is called to install S. 〈◊〉 Malachy: The opposers are defeated, and strooken by the band of God. 〈◊〉 Chap. 10.  
MAuritius being now dead, another of that danable race, called Nigrettus, or Nigerrimus rather, with the like impudence, ●…s anon to the stern; while the malicious Predecessor, to add 〈◊〉 to sin, had a pretty while before, wrought notable practices, ●…aue him first for heir in the world, and after his Companion 〈◊〉 follower into Hell. The rumour and disdain of this great au●…iousnes being spread through all parts, a new Diet was called, ●…nstall at last the good S. Malachy into the degree, now for so ●…y years, and that for so many reasons, due unto him. But be●…d how the Synagogue of the malicious Hellhounds, opposeth a●…st him. One of the Children of Belial, being a notable favourer ●…igrettus, and very prompt and potent to evil, as he knew the ●…e where the States were to assemble themselves, with a good ●…ber of Russians, laid himself in ambush in the next hill, with ●…ll deliberation, when the Council should be set, by treacheries ●…ome forth suddenly, and to rush in upon them without fail, 〈◊〉 above all to take away S. Malachyes life; and for the less danger ●…euenge likewise to kill one of the two Kings, who was there also ●…eete. And now stood matters in a readiness, the Conspirators 〈◊〉 wait for effusion of blood, and the Good men upon the point ●…oing to the shambles; when through the divine Benignity, the ●…ocent S. Malachy opportunely had intelligence of the cruel plot ●…ithout making a noise, or putting his people into a hurly-burly 〈◊〉 no more but enter into the Church, and lifting up his hands, ●…ue succour of the Omnipotent, whose prayer was easily heard, & ●…ke effect accordingly.  
For behold on a sudden the heavens to be covered, the air 〈◊〉 darkened, flashes of lightning to break forth, cracks of thunder, ●…etuous storms, and hideous tempests to arise, the day of wrath 〈◊〉 extreme judgement to be represented to mortals. And to the end ●…men might discern how forcible the prayer of S. Malachy was ●…isturbe, and to put the Elements thus in commotion, those were ●…y punished with so sharp menaces, & with so wonderful, dreadful, and cruel a tempest, who more than the rest seemed to thirst to take away the life of the Holy Man. The head of this devilish faction, with three others of the principal, being strooken with a them derbolt miserably perished: & the day following were their body seen to be blasted & disfigured, one upon this, another upon the bough of the trees, wheresoever through the violence of the thunder each one was furiously cast. Three others were found to be half de●… on the ground. The rest of the base crew, were dispersed into diverse parts very confusedly, and with exceeding great horror, a●… they went about like men distracted. Whereas those of the part 〈◊〉 S. Malachy so near to the place amidst so perilous accidents, had no molestation with such prodigies, nor hurt at all, nay not so much as a hair of their heads were diminished; Which bred a far great admiration in the minds of the people, whereby they evidently be held that God himself took S. Malachyes part. The unhappy Nigrettus, with his complices, through the fury of the people, was th●… out of the City, and with the greatest joy that might be, the 〈◊〉 Bishop and Primate of all Ireland introduced into his place, being 〈◊〉 that time of some thirty eight years of age. But yet for all this neither within or without, was he wholly free from persecutions an●… troubles, as shall presently appear.   

Nigrettus his craft, as also the plot of his wicked Complices: & how all turu●… to a perfect Reconciliation. Chap. 11.  
THE Diet being now dissolved, and the aforesaid King, wi●… the other defenders of the right and equity of S. Malachyes caus●… departed from Ardmach; that viperous race not able to brook th●… privation of the ancient dominion, began to exclaim bitterly, an●… complain for being over borne and oppressed by the more poten●… and with all endeavour and art, gave themselves within the tow●… to renew seditions and tumults, against the Servant of Christ: & th●… fugitive Nigrettus without, was not wanting the while with fra●… and subtilityes to stir up seditions abroad, and to put every thing into garboil, rebellions, and disorders.  
In the Sacristy of Ardmach, among other things of best esteem●… are two famous Relics very charily kept. Whereof one is a ce●…taine Text of the gospels, which had been heretofore belonging to the Blessed S. Patrick. The other a Staff, all covered with gold, & beset with most rich jewels, which they call jesus Staff, as holdi●… certain that our Saviour himself had framed it, and used it with own hands. Now these two relics, as I said, are by those ●…le had in so great Veneration, as the Simple, in whose possession 〈◊〉 see them, do hold them to be the true & lawful Successors of ●…tricke. Which thing Nigrettus knowing very well, flying had ●…ily carried them away with him; and with these tokens and ●…ges, did carry himself as the true Archbishop, and went about withdraw the people, as much as he could, from their Obedience 〈◊〉 Malachy.  
But a principal man of the same stock, seemed to play the fury ●…e the rest; who not regarding either the promise made to King, not to molest the most holy Priestof God, nor yet the ●…ages given for that end; with a crew of servants and kinsfolks ●…ractize how to murder S. Malachy. And for as much as he could publicly attempt the same without manifest danger, in respect ●…e Devotion which the people bore to so great a Pastor, he defined together with the others, to rid him away by some trea●…ous means, in causing him to come improvidently to his house ●…r the pretence of confirming a new amity with him. With this ●…cept in his head, the rooms being furnished in good time with ●…ed men, one day while the Archbishop was singing of Vespers the great Church, he sent certain men in haste, very humbly entreat him (the Office being ended) to vouchsafe to come to 〈◊〉, as soon as he could, it being so needful for them to establish accord. Which thing seemed to be very extravagant to the follo●…rs of S. Malachy; and being aware of the deceit made answer, 〈◊〉 more fit it were he should come himself to the Prelate; & that 〈◊〉 Church was a more competent place for acts of that quality. ●…e Messengers replied, their Lord could not come with safety, 〈◊〉 durst he adventure for the multitude, who but yesterday were ●…y to cut him in pieces.  
While such manner of contentions passed between them, the ●…ine Man, who desired peace, and feared not death: Let me alone ●…ith he) Brothers for God's sake: let me follow the example of 〈◊〉 Master. And shall I be a Christian, if I do not in some sort imi●… Christ? Peradventure this my submission will mollify the hart ●…ur Adversary, and in the mean time, with this Example I shall ●…e you some Edification. And if this savage people should tear in pieces, I will willingly yield my life into their bloody hands, to the end I might leave you a pattern how you should order th●… course of your life. Besides, by this occasion you shall truly see wh●… there your Superior have learned of Christ to be afraid of death 〈◊〉 Christ, or no. And with this, rising up on his feet, he beganne●… walk on with an undaunted gesture: howbeyt his friends & Disciples with tears trickling down their cheeks, humbly besough●… him not to be so wilful, as to hazard the shedding of his blood among those bloodsuckers: because a great multitude of the faithly were like to be left desolate, who in all things wholly depended upon him. But he confiding, and fixed in the Divine protection (〈◊〉 ears being stopped to sighs and laments) went boldly on, accompanied which no more, then with three disciples only, being promp●… and disposed to lay down their lyves with him.  
In this manner he came to the Enemies gate, he had no soon put in his feet, but he was seen to be encompassed round with great Troop of terrible Hackster's, he standing the while, like a●… innocent Victim, exposed to the strokes of whosoever had th●… will to sacrifice the same. But (O force! O power of Christian confidence!) while they were all expecting the sign to set upon him he with the only cast of an Eye, with one serene look only, di●… mitigate them in such sort, as there was none of the most forward est or courageous, durst so much as offer any manner of violent unto his person, the divine power did so bridle their fury. Nay, 〈◊〉 there the Prince himself, and Captain of them, suddenly changed his inhuman intention, and instead of tearing him to pieces, 〈◊〉 destroying him wholly, arose to do him great Reverence and honour, showing an incredible desire of a sincere concord. At whic●… words, S. Malachy exceedingly rejoiced, and was no whit slack in a matter sought for by him, with so great danger of his life. A solemn peace than was ratifyed between them with such sinceri●… as that he who before was so grievous and dangerous an Adversary was not only satisfied now with the Election made, but showed himself afterwards always loving, and much devoted to S. Malachy. For which success the good conceived an incredible joy, is beholding him to escape so that day, who had no fault, & through his merits so many souls delivered from the peril of eternal death. This action of his, made not only the name and respect of S. Malachy now to dilate itself more than ever; but even likewise wrought a great dread in all people, who understood that two of his most fierce and potent Persecutors, were with a sudden & divine pow●… made prostrate, though in a very divers manner; the one, be●…g terribly punished in body, the other benignly compunct, and ●…nged in mind.   

●…gretus is constrained to render up the pledges to S. Malachy 〈◊〉 the judgement of God is severely showed upon two bitter Railers against S. Malachy. Chap. 12.  
SUCH difficult Encounters, and grievous disturbances being now passed over, the holy Archbishop began very freely to or●…yne and dispose whatsoever might seem in any wise to belong 〈◊〉 his Ministry, but yet never without some eminent danger of 〈◊〉 life, while he found no time, or place secure from treacheries. ●…erupon by public counsel there was a Guard of select men ●…poynted for his person day and night, although he was resolved 〈◊〉 we have said) ever to rely much more upon divine protection, ●…n on human guards. And because the banished Nigretus was con●…ually working of no small damage in stirring up the rude people ●…d causing of separations and discords in the Church of God; it ●…med convenient to S. Malachy to use his best endeavours against a ●…order & scandal of so great importance. And therefore the good ●…chbishop applied himself withal care and industry to wipe a●…ay this great scandal; and did use such effectual means to stop ●…o the ways to the minister of the Devil, as the wretched Man ●…as constrained, in despite of himself, to yield, and restore the ●…lne pledges, and for ever after to rest quiet, and subject himself ●…ithall humility. And thus S. Malachy, though amidst so many difficultyes and Tribulations, notwithstanding with the favour of God ●…ent prosperously on, procuring the salvation of many Souls, and ●…oceeding successively day by day. Nor were the malefactors ●…ly, but even likewise his detractours chastised by divine justice.. ●…herof, among others, upon a certain perverse fellow, was a noble demonstration showed.  
This man not content to think unworthily of the great ●…rchbishop, and to malign him against all reason: but moreover ●…deauoured to defame and wound him with bitter speeches, and ●…amefull calumnies in public meetings & more eminent places, ●…lping himself therein with a certain pernicious Eloquence, wherewith he was endued, and with the favour of Princes, & great Ones, purchased through base flatteryes & scurrile jests. And now was he arrived to such enormous insolence, as that wheresover he met with S. Malachy, & espccially in the more public assemblies, he would not spare to use him discourteously both in words and gestures. But this manner of audaciousness did cost the wretch full dear; for the instrument of railing in him, was so putrified, and swollen up, as that after he had for seven continual days done nothing but spit out worms, which seemed to swarm from his devilish tongue; being finally consumed quite, and pined away with abominable corruption issuing from thence, he gave up the Ghost, leaving his filthy Carcase to be meat for worms of the Earth.  
The other was a Woman of that accursed generation, so envious, & always bearing such an implacable hatred towards Blessed Malachy, as she ever abhorred his very sight. Notwithstanding as she went to hear him preach to the people, the wretched and shameless creature did not forbear to lift up her voice in that assembly, & call him Hypocrite, and a robber of other men's goods, adjoining beside, to so bitter injuries, outrageous taunts, upon the Baldness of the man of God: who being wise and meek, gave no answer himself of any kind; but the great God (who reserves revenge & glory to himself) sufficiently made answer for him: for that the wicked and damnable wretch thereupon lost her wits, became furious and frantic, continually crying out, she was strangled by S. Malachy, nor ceased she from horrible screeches, till she likewise yielded up her vital Spirit. Insomuch, as having usurped the ancient Nickname of Elizaeus, through the just judgement of God, she found to her cost, another Elizaeus.  
In the mean time there happened a cruel Plague to rage in Ardmach: by which pestilence an infinite multitude of people consumed everyday away. Whereupon S. Malachy ordained a solemn procession, and sent up inflamed darts (both of iaculatory and vocal prayers) which pierced the skies, and came to the Throne of his divine Majesty; who granted his humble request, and very speedily caused it to cease.  
And this thing bred a wonder in the people, who did observe the sanctity of the great Archbishop, and ever after caused them to have a far more reverend respect to his sacred person; and likewise it stopped the mouths of the malignant, and in particular those of the seed of Chanaan, who being by this and other examples terri●…d, and convinced by such sovereign wonders, said likewise ●…ith the Egyptians: Let us fly from S. Malachy, because the Lord seems to ●…ht for him. But to late were they aware of their own wretched●…es: nor were they able to avert the heavenly Indignation, since ●…ithin a little while after, that unfortunate race was quite annihi●…ed and extinguished, not without the terror, and amazement of 〈◊〉 many as knew the same.   

〈◊〉. Malachy surrenders the archbishopric, and returns to Conerthen: and soon after resolves upon a journey to Rome. Chap. 13.  
BY these means the affairs of Ardmach, being now reduced to good terms, the Clergy reform, the rumours quieted, & the Enemies by this time taken away; S. Malachy, whose breast was inflamed with the love of Humility, after he had now brought peace to others, determines to procure the same likewise for himself. And calling a new Diet of Priests & ●…ayks, obtained in ver●…e of the former Pact (though not without their great sorrow & grief) to discharge himself at last of that cure so burdensome, and in his room to substitute a person of rare and approved virtues, by ●…ame Gelasius. Whom as soon as he had consecrated, and seriously ●…ecommended to the principal of the kingdom, being loaden with victories and triumphs, he returns again to his first charge of ●…onerthen, which by this time was reasonably well recovered of the ●…osse received from the barbarous people. And in this return see●…ed S. Malachy to give forth apparent signs now more clear than ever of Christian Modesty; or to say better, of the greatness of a singular courage.  
The Diocese of Conerthen of ancient times, had two Episcopal Seats; but afterwards through the covetousness, and ambition of a great Incumbent, they were confounded together, and reduced to one only. Which thing our S. Malachy disliking, for just respects, divided it anew, and renounced that of Conerthen, being the better provided with Rents, and more noble of the two, for another, much inferior to the former for wealth; It is called Dune, a place obscure and little, which our Blessed Man choose rather to retain to himself. And to that purpose he passed from Con●…rthen to Dune, accompanied with a few disciples; and likewise immediately forsook the eminent Title of Archbishop of Ardmach, to a poor title of Bishop of Dune. O pure hart! O eye of the Dou●…! Let all men be even ravished at this Example of exceeding great Humility, which shined bright in the course of thy whole transitory life! Where are they now, who so earnestly contend about their limits and bounds? Who merely for a base cottage, or a plot of ground, do wage Law, and stir up such fearful tragedies? But let us desist from entering into such manner of discourses, and rather proceed to declare the rest of the life of this great Saint. From Metropolitan and Primate of Ireland, being thus made Bishop of Dune, the first thing he endeavours, is to have (as he was wont) a flourishing College about him of Regular Clerks.  
And behold now another time, how our new Soldier of Christ, puts himself again into spiritual combats; he harnesseth himself with complete armour of Mortification, and perpetual Meditation, although by this his desire, he seemed to obtain the merit, rather than the effect; it being impossible for him to deny his endeavour, counsel, and presence to such a number of persons, as either touched with good inspirations, or tempted with sundry temptations, repaired to him as to a fafe refuge & true Oracle. Besides which, the obligation he had of travailing through the Province, to sow the word of God, to visit the parishes, and to ordain all things as one of the Apostles, did employ him not a little. And commonly there was none would say unto him; In whose authority do you this? so great was the opinion and credit he purchased; partly through the life he lead, partly also for the signs & Miracles which he wrought. And yet for all that, while it seemed to him, that he could not with security promote so high affairs, without the express commission of the holy Apostolic Sea; he determined to travail in person towards Rome, and that so much the rather, as he had many other occasions besides of no light importance, moving him to this long and tedious pilgrimage: Whereof one the most urgent was this which we shall now tell.  
Within the costs of Ireland, are two Metropolitan seats, the one of Adrmach, whereof we have spoken heretofore more ofrens, illustrious, rich, and founded even from the time of S. Patrick: the other (whose name is unknown unto me) of a meane●… quality, and but newly erected by Celsus, and subordinate to the first, and not confirmed hitherto by the Vicar of Christ. To both these Seas, now, S. Malachy desired for their greater compliment of honour & reputation to obtain the use of the sacred Pall: and to the second as more late, the consent also of Apostolical approbation. And to this effect, he went about to prepare for his journey. But as the same came to be known abroad, not only his domestics, but all others likewise were infinitely sorry thereat: while it seemed to be a very hard matter for them, to remain so long without him: and fearing withal, in so great and difficult a voyage by Sea and land, some sinister accident, might betide him.  
Their anxiety was increased the more, by reason of the death of Christianus Bishop and Brother of S. Malachy, which happened much about those days: a Prelate indeed, though second in glory, yet for zeal and sanctity, peradventure not much inferior to him. By reason of this fresh and grievous a loss, came now the departure of the blessed Father, to be continually more difficult. And they all affirmed with one voice, they would by no means consent, their only prop should depart from them; the country in the mean time abiding in so manifest danger of a total ruin, if both such pillars should thence be taken away at one tyme. So as all from the highest to the lowest, with one and the self same spirit, ran hastily to him, and having in vain mixed their reasons, conjurations, and protestations to move him; did at last plainly give him to understand, that when they saw Love would not prevail with him, they would detain him by force: When ●…o, the Servant of God, with a severe countenance, threatening them with chastisement from Heaven, endeavoured to pacify them: and yet was it not possisible for him to hinder them, but that for a final conclusion, the matter should be remitted to a decision by Lots; and yet notwithstanding all that, so great was the pertinacity of them, as that after the first, & then the second being drawn in favour of the Bishop; yet they with exclamations and plaints, would needs have him come to a third Election: when still finding the same to be conformable to the afore passed, and for that they judged it to be enacted by the supreme Head, and Disposer of all things, against their wills they yield to his desire. But before they would let him go, they desired and humbly requested him to ordain one to supply the place & Episcopal Seat of his Brother deceased. To which he willingly condescended, and therefore calling into his presence some: three of his Scholars, was much perplexed in mind and uncertain which of them were the most sufficient for such a high and eminent Ministry. And when he had taken a careful and diligent survey of them all: Do thou Edanus (saith he, for so was one of them called) take upon thee the charge. But the poor Wretch excused himself, in the best manner he could, and poured forth a shower of brinish tears. Fear not (replied he) since thou hast been designed to me by our Lord himself, and I have seen thee already with the ring of the mystical espousals on thy finger. Whereupon Edanus assuming more confidence than before, very humbly obeyed.   

S. Malachy in his way to Rome goes to York. He visits Claravallis by the way, and arrives at Rome. Chap. 14.  
SAINT Malachy having now consecrated Edanus Bishop, puts himself on his journey, and with an easy and short cut passed over into Scotland. From thence being come to York, a City in England, a certain Priest, Sicarus by name, having the spirit of prophecy, beholding S. Malachy in the face, howbeit he never saw him before, yet did he point at him with the fingar, to the standers by, saying: Behold him here whom I told you of, that a holy Bishop should come out of Ireland, who sees into the thoughts of men. More over, the said Sicarus, discovered to S. Malachy many hidden things, which were with all punctuality found to be most true. And being demanded by some of the Bishop's companions, concerning the success of that pilgrimage of theirs, among other things he answered, they were not all of them like to return back with him into Ireland again. Whereupon they fell into some suspicion of their dying by the way, but their prediction came to be verified indeed in another sense. For as much, as in the return which S. Malachy made from Rome, as we shall set down in its place, he left part of them in the Convent of Claravallis. And so much may suffice of the Prophet Sicarus.  
In the same City of York came to the holy Bishop a Noble man, whose name was William, being at that time Prior of the Canons of Circham, and now Monk, and Father of the Monks, in our house of Mailros: who after he had very humbly recommended himself to his prayers, did him a noble act of courtesy; which was, that seeing the train of the Bishop to be some what great, & his provision of horse but slender (for having with him besides Servants & Clerks, some five Priests, he had no more than three horses for than all) he made him a friendly present of a horse of his: which because he was outward for the saddle, & of a naughty pace, William did ingenuously allege for himself how sorry he was for the defects, and that he would have more willingly given the same, if he had been much better. Whereto S. Malachy made answer: And I like him so much the more, as you seem to depaint him worse; and turning himself to his followers: Make ready (said he) this Beast for me for he is like to prove well enough, and will hold out for along voyage. And so got up, & though in the beginning he found him to be rude, & of a very hard trot; notwithstanding shortly through a marvellous change it appeared he now had a very dexterous Rider on his back: and for confirmation of whatsoever he had prognosticated of him, for nine whole years together which S. Malachy survived, he always served his turn, becoming really a very excellent & prized horse; & for a later empromement, whereas before he had a coat of a dark grey, he began to wax white, in such sort, as within a short space there could hardly be seen a whiter beast.  
These and other like Offices of friendship, found S. Malachy, in that pilgrimage: and I myself likewise had the hap to know such a Man, and to be fed, and enriched with his spiritual Discourses; and he mutually made show likewise of some contentment taken in me a Sinner, and loved me dearly, even to the end of his life. Moreover he seemed not to think much, to lodge in our homely Cottages, giving also to all the Monks a rare and singular Example of Christian Perfection, and we receiving always from his followers some manner of edification. And so having taken the place & Inhabitants into those his bowels of Piety, giving us all his holy Benediction, he departed from us, not without sorrow and great lamentation of the people. Hasting now forward in his journey, our blessed Pilgrim arrives at the City of S. Claude, where he presently cured his Hosts child in the place where it lay in extremity. From thence by the shortest way he passed to Rome, where Pope Innocent the second at that time did govern the Ship of S. Peter; who graciously received him, and took much compassion upon him for the grievous pains he had sustey ned, and the hard travails he had taken in so tedious a journey.   

S. Malachy remains a while in Rome. He is made Apostolical Legate: and returns homeward by Claravallis. Chap. 15.  
albeit S. Malachy were nothing unmindful of his principal business: yet before all other things, he began to demand the favour to leave off the Episcopal Office, and to retire himself to live and die in our Monastery of Claravallis. Which how beyt denied by the Vicar of Christ, because it seemed to him not just, that a person so helpful to the world, should so be shut up in a corner there of, he had notwithstanding obtained from Christ himself, some part of what he desired; since it was afforded him by the Divine Goodness, if not to live, at least to dye in Claravallis, as shall be declared in its due place S. Malachy remained for a whole Month in the holy City, visi●…ing with singular devotion those places which were consecrated with the blood of Martyrs. And in the mean time, the Pope informed himself by him, more fully and at large of the estate and customs of the Churches in Ireland. At last upon mature deliberation with his Cardinals, he declared our Blessed S. Malachy his Vicegerent and Apostolical Legate, through all that Island, in the place of the Bishop Gilbert, who being surcharged with years, most humbly craved to be discharged. After which did S. Malachy propose his demands, which were, for the confirmation of the new Metropolis; and for the Pals both of the one and other. And as for the Confirmation, he obtained it without difficulty. But for the Palls, the Pope answered; It was convenient, the matter should be treated of more sol●…mnely. Wherefore as soon as you shall be arrived at home, shall you assemble a general Synod: & by common Decree, you shall procure for the said Palls that some worthy persons with speed may be sent hither, that the same may benignly be afforded them. So said Innocent, and then taking off the Mitre from his head he put it on S. Malachy: and beside he pleased to give him from his own vestments of the Mass, a stole and maniple. And then with the loving kiss of peace, and Apostolical benediction, very courteously licenced him to depart.  
In his return homeward, he revisited Claravallis, & revived us a new with his most grateful aspect, he being exceedingly grieved that he could not always make his abode with us, and then with deep sighs he spoke to us, as followeth. Seeing it is not the Divine pleasure of Almighty God, that I shall here remain with you: yet I beseech you at least, that instead of my person, you would take some of my Clerks unto you: Who with you being made good disciples, may serve to supply us afterwards with Masters: adding moreou●…r, they shall serve us for seed, and in their seed shall people be blessed: People (I say) who though by ancient Tradition have had some kind of knowledge of Monastical functions; yet hitherto have never seen any Monks amongst them. Leaving then some four of them behind, he departed from thence, who succeeding very well in the probation, were admitted into the Order: and within a little while afterwards were some others sent thither, and those likewise being admitted, and instructed with diligence, were together with the first, sent back into Ireland, under the care of the holy Brother Christianus, (being of the same family) with an addition of so many of ours of Clarevallis, as being all together, sufficed for a formal abbey: which like wise in process of time, conceived, and brought forth some five daughters. From whence with multiplied seed, the number of Religious every day increased, according to the prediction and vow of S. Malachy.   

S. Malachy arriveth in Scotland, and there cureth King David's son. He passeth from thence into Ireland, and comes to the Monastery of Benchor. Chap. 16.  
THE venerable Guest being departed from us, & prosperously landing in Scotland; found there King David, in a certain castle of his, with his only Son, lying sick of an incurable disease. Where being entreated to stay, and that he would be pleased to afford him health, he sprinkled him with water by him blessed, & looking him in the face, said to him: Be of good cheer, my Son, since you are not to dye at this present. These were his words; & immediately the effect followed: For the day after, the Prince recovered his health to the exceeding consolation of the King, and the infinite iubiley, and joy of all the Court, and finally to the stupour and amazement of all that heard and knew the same. The rumour thereof being spread there was nothing every where but bon●…yers, ringing of bells, and giving of thanks, and voices of praise, as well for the unexpected recovery of their Lord, as for the greatness & novelty of the Miracle itself. This David the father, and Henry the son, being now valorous, and wise Souldi●…urs, are yet living to this day: and as at that time, they used much importunity to retain S. Malachy their Guest with them, to make much of him; so while he lived, they always strived to honour him, and to show themselves, not to be unmindful, and very grateful for such a benefit, and therefore offered to him many rich Presents.  
But the wise Contemner of transitory Rewards, and worldly pomp, by any means, on the next Morning would needs depart from thence; and passing by the way of Crugeldus, restored speech to a certain young Girl.  
And in the Island of S. Michael, he cured, in the presence of all the people, a woman so possessed with Devils, as her friends were enforced to hold her very straight bound with cords, & sometimes in chains of Iron.  
From thence being come to the haven of Lapisperius, while he expected commodity to pass over into Ireland, he was not idle, but among other things gave order, and himself likewise put hands to a certain Oratory of grates or lattuce-worke, & encompassed it round with a fence, leaving in the midst a certain space for the burial of the dead; and blessed the same. Which was so efficacious, as that even to this day, from diverse parts are brought thither many laguishing persons, and ill affected, and from thence return with strength, and wished comfort.  
That same also was very notable, which happened there to a certain insolent fellow: who being entered into that inviolable Cemeter, with soul and impious intents to profane the same; he was seized upon by an ugly and horrible Toad, which suddenly showing it selfforth, with a swelling look fell a spitting of venom upon him. Whereat the poor wretch being sorely astonished and affrighted, threw himself over the sacred rails, even headlong the shortest way.  
But to leave these degressions, and return to S. Malachy; after he had embarked himself in the said Port, with a good gale, he very happily arrived at the Monastery of Benchor, to the end that his first Children, perhaps might likewise be the first, to gain his Benediction. And who were able sufficiently to express the joy they felt in the review and receiving of such a Father, returned safe and found from parts so remote? Nor the said Congregation only, but even all those people also thereabout, did show forth such joy for his return, that even from Cities, Castles, and Towns they ran thither in great troops, to do him Reverence, & bid him welcome. And he himself, not to hold his new Legation in vain, without delay endeavours to visit all those kingdoms, distributing on every side very wholesome gifts of Apostolical Faculties, in such sort, as no Sex, nor Age, nor Condition, or Profession whatsoever remained without feeling of some part of the Comfort.  
He celebrated likewise some national Counsels, in the more convenient Cities. Where, for the sound and Catholic Religion, were most profitable Canons and Decrees established: carrying in the mean while, his eyes continually fixed upon the necessities of every one, and applying remedies all ways as need required; now with sweetness, and now with severity. Nor was there here to be found any one that would seem to contradict his precepts, or proudly contemn his admonishments, but they were rather accepted of all, as wholesome medicines, and as constitutions derived from Heaven. And how could it be otherwise, while all was confirmed by so many works above nature. In testimony whereof, besides those others we have touched already, we will in the Chapters following relate some others most to our purpose; since to recount & unfold them all, were not possible: and I on the other side am more willing to dilate myself in things conducing to Imitation, than such as may only excite Admiration.   

A brief Description of S. Malachyes manner of life, as an introduction to the ensuing miracles, which he wrought. Chap. 17.  
IN my judgement truly, the first, and most stupendious miracle that S. Malachy wrought, was S. Malachy himself. For why; setting apart the interior man, whose beauty, worth, and sincerity sufficiently shined most brightly in his life and actions, what shall we say of the exterior only; which with conformity of manners, to wit, most modest and decent, he would be always showing in such sort, as not the least thing could ever be discovered therein, that might any ways seem to offend the eyes of the beholders? Let us come to the tongue: It is surely most certain, that for a man not to trip in talking is a very great perfection. And yet what man, so curious let him be, was ever known, that could ever espy, or note in S. Malachy, I say not a word, but so much as an ill gesture? Who ever saw him to move either hand or foot with vanity? Nay wherein gave he not Edification to his Neigbhours, in walking in his habit, and semblance? He had so perpetual a serenity in his contenance, as neither with the gravity of Melancholy, or levity of Laughing, was he ever seen to be distempered. All was discipline in him, all harmony, all Virtue. He was an Enemy to scoffs, but yet not austere, or froward. Remiss would he be sometimes, but dissolute never. Careless in nothing, though in many he knew well how to dissemble, till time and place. Quiet oftentimes, but yet not once would seem to be slothful.  
From the day of his conversion, unto his last breath, he had never any thing proper, not servants, nor farms, nor messages, nor finally any manner of rents, either Ecclesiastical or secular. For his Episcopal table, he had no assignment made him at all: yea the good Prelate indeed, had not so much as a determinate dwelling to put his head in; as he who spent all his life, as it were, in visiting of Villages and Parishes; so serving the Gospel, and by the Gospel therefore sustaining himself, according to the order and decree of our Lord. It is true, that he and his companions, because they would not be burdensome, or put any to expenses, would maintain themselves oftentimes with the sweat of their brows, and labours of their proper hands. And when at such times he had need of some rest, he would usually be taking it in pious places, dispersed by himself here and there through Ireland: and if he chanced to abide any where, he would always so conform himself to the customs and observances of the house, as neither at Table, or elsewhere, would he seem to have any thing in particular: nor even at first sight could there any the least difference be discovered between him, and the rest of the Brothers.  
What more can be said of him? Even enough to contain many Volumes, his life was so admirable, & a mirror to all Mortals. But my scope and intention is only, to demonstrate those things which in his life are most imitable, as I said above. To proceed then; although our blessed S. Malachy, were now an aged man, and Legate of the highest Bishop; yet did he never give over his ancient use to go on foot, to preach himself in person, still causing such others as he lead along with him to do the like; a form very truly evangelical, and so much the more recommendable in S. Malachy, as it is found to be less in practice with others. Whereas he, who doth such things, may worthily be called the lawful heir, and Successor of the Apostles. What wonder is it then, if the divine Man, did work such admirable things, he being so admirable himself, though he wrought them not of himself, but God in him, since we read; Tu es Deus qui facis mirabilia?  
By occasion of the loud acclamations of these his transcendent Virtues, & most notable working of Miracles; his fame began to spread itself through out all the neighbouring places, nay even over the whole Country; and there resorted daily many to be cured by him of all kind of diseases; and among the rest a woman extremely vexed with the devil, who dwelled in a City which is called Cultafin. Her parents thereupon procured S. Malachy to be sent for: Who coming into the house, presently fell unto his prayers, and commands the unjust possessor in the name of the highest, to go forth of that body; he obeys, but in stantly leaps into another Woman present. S. Malachy perceiving this, spoke thus to the accursed Enemy of Making: I have not so quit thee of her, as that thou shouldst seem to assail that other. Therefore I charge thee again in the name of the Highest, that thou let her go also. The Fiend being constrained thereto, obeys, his behest, but yet returns to his former habitation. When the Blessed Servant of Christ, observing the deceit of our Adversary, expels him a new from thence, he than flies again into the second. This bob the perverse spirit gave to him for a pretty while, in chopping so always, and flying from one into the other. At last S. Malachy being stirred up with a holy zeal, and not without just indignation, to see him so mocked by all unclean Spirit, recollected himself a little, and resuming more in tense forces from Heaven, withal violence quite banished him from both: leaving the cruel Serpent (so full of fraud and deceit) enraged thereat, thinking perhaps by that policy to make the Holy man desist from further troubling himself. But peradventure some will admire at this long delay herein, and resistance of the Adversary, attributing the same (it may be) to the power of the malignant Spirit. To such persons I answer, that it pleased the Divine Dispensatour of all things, Qui omnia ben●… & suaviter disponit, to try the patience of his Servant S. Malachy, and to the end that by such delay and changes, both the presence of the Enemy, and victory of S. Malachy, more clearly might appear. Which thing is yet more illustrated, and made to appear to be true: therefore attend here a while to that which elsewhere this great Servant of Christ seemed to work, not in person, as before is declared, but in absence. Which yet surely had been●… great deal more easy for him to have done at hand, than so same asunder.   

A man is dispossessed of evil spirits, by the power of S. Malachy in his absence. With diverse other miracles beside. Chap. 18  
IN the Northern parts of Ireland, in a certain house, where S. Malachy before had happened to lodge, lay one afflicted, and terribly tormented with Devils. Who on a night, over heard some discourses they had among them; Wherein they said to each other: Beware this wretch do not touch any of the straw there, wherein that Hippocrit had sometimes slept, lest perhaps he escape out of our hands. Fron which words, the sick man did gather that those infernal Spirits meant it of S. Malachy; and then taking courage began to approach by creeping thereunto, as well as he could: but being weak in body, he could not get thither by crawling; yet was he very strong in faith, for he desisted not to go forward, as he was able. Whereupon you might hear in the air certain fearful cries, and perplexed voices, Hold, hold him off, or we lose the prey. But he transported with hope and desire, made so much the greater haste, to reach thereunto: & through divine Mercy, being come to the blessed Litter of straw, fell a stretching himself thereon, and wallowing up & down therein: While the infernal furies with howling & la●… most bitterly exclaimed: Alas, alas, we have bewrayed ourselves: we have deceived ourselves. For loc, he is even now made sound. And so he was indeed, being whole in a moment of all his lymnes, and freed of the diabolical affrights and horrors, which he suffered.  
In Lesmor likewise did S. Malachy deliver a Lunatic person; & made him whole and perfect in all his senses. Moreover, our great Saint did restore another person to his former wits, who dwelled in Praginia. And in the same Country, by causing a frantic woman to wash herself with a water which he blessed, she was presently released of her chains, and disease. Another woman in like sort being enraged, so as she would be a biting, & tearing her flesh with her teeth, was by him through Prayer, & a simple touch only restored to health. There was like wise a Man, who in frenzy could seem to foretell certain things to come, and so impetuo●… and terrible withal, as the greatest cords were hardly able to with hold him. And yet this Man in a moment was freed also through the prayers of S. Malachy, & restored to his wits. I could name the place where this fell out; but because it happened in a place of so barbarous a name, that (as it happens often in many other words of that Nation) it may scarce seem fit to be expressed with the voice much less represented with the pen, I think it a thing very convenient, to let it pass nameless.  
There was in the aforesaid City of Lesmor, a certain young girl very dumb, whom her Parents having humbly put in the presence of S. Malachy, as he passed along, the man of God made a stop, and touching her tongue with a little of his spittle, without more ado, in the sight of all, afforded her the use of speech. Another time going forth of the Church, with a great train after him, a woman was presented to him at the Porch, by a distressed Man her Husband, wholly deprived likewise of her pronunciation. When S. Malachy beheld this miserable woman, he signed her with the most holy Cross, and commanded her in the presence of all, to recite the prayer of our Lord: which she presently said very punctually. The multitude seeing this Miracle, gave glory to the divine Goodness. In a certain place called Ob●…reb, a rich man being mortally sick, had now for some twelve days continually remained without once being able in any wise to utter a word, and consequently was hindered from making his Confession. But S. Malachy coming to visit him, immediately he recovered his lost speech, & being armed with the Sacraments, with singular Confidence of eternal life, gave up the Ghost.  
A certain Baron being in S. Malachyes Inn, while he was treating there with him, about some affairs; at one full of faith, stole away but three rushes only from his poor little Couch, and with that pious theft, wrought wondrous things; which we have not time to relate in this place. The Man of God being come to Duenu●…ania, there came in to him a Gentleman of that City, as he sat at table, earnestly beseeching him on the behalf of his wife, who was not without great fear & danger of her Childbirth, being longer than the ordinary term required. The Bishop of Mehome likewise with others that were present at that sitting, did very earnestly recommend the case unto him. When S. Malachy heard this, he answered: I am not a little sorry for it, in regard that the is a very good Matron. And without more a do, reaching to the Husband, a cup by him blessed, added: Go your ways, and give her this drink and bid her not fear any thing. So the Noble man did as he was commanded, and the next night without any difficulty at all, the woman was safely delivered. S. Malachy happening to abide in the Champion countries, with the Count of Vlidia, behold a woman appeared before him, very great with Child, now at least for fifteen months and twenty days gone: and who finding no humane remedy, with piteous tears came seeking for succour from the Servant of Christ. Malachy being moved with so new and unexpected an accident, puts himself into Prayer, & suddenly there in the place the poor wretch without any travail at all, brought forth the creature into the world,   

A rehearsal of other miracles of S. Malachy, upon sundry occasions. Chap. 19  
ANother thing yet of no less wonder, though in a divers kind happened in the land of Vlidia. A certain Soldier of the Count of Vlidia, having no regard unto God's commandments, and without having any fear of his heavy displeasure, kept the Concubine of his own Brother. Saint Malachy having notice hereof, performed, like another S. john Baptist, the very same office of charity in reprehending the wicked man. But that reckless creature, representing Herod, not only disobeyed him, but made him answer moreover, with swearing, in the hearing of all, that he would never abandon his Mistress. S. Malachy, the true servant of Christ, being fraught with the zeal of justice, answered, God may then dissever you, against your will. For which the incestuous wretch as caring but little, in a most despiteful manner, went his ways from him. He had scarce gone a mile from that place, and within less than a full hour, but God punished him for this his enormous crime; by being assailed by certain men, and that so desperately, as wounds were the beginning of their fray, and stabs even to the heart, were the period. In this bloody on set, his Soul paid for the transgression of his disobedience. For one of the Ruffians sent him on a rueful message to Grand Lucifer. At this news every one remained astonished, especially seeing the speedy execution of the sentence of S. Malachy: and other wicked men being hereby gently admonished, were truly converted. In the same country, Count Dermitius, through manifest disorders of Gluttony, & and other Sensualityes, had laid now sick, and unwieldy a long tyme. This man being visited by S. Malachy, & first sharply rebuked for the scandal, and ill example he had given, and after blessed with holy water, was suddenly raised, & beyond the expectation of him and his, very nimbly mounted on his horse. In the City of Cassel, came one to S. Malachy, with a son of his, being sick of the palsy craving pity at his hands. The holy Bishop then litting up his mind to our Lord, said to the Father of that child: Go thy ways, for thy son shall recover. He went then, but returned the next Morning, with the child not yet cured. S. Malachy making his prayer for the Child some what longer than before, cheered him up, and gave strict order to the Father of the lame child, to dedicate him to the divine Service, which he faithfully promised to do. But yet afterwards kept not his word. Whereupon the youth after some years relapsed again into the same palsy.  
Another Man likewise brought his son to the holy Man, from parts far distant. This child had withered feet, and was not able to move a whit. S. Malachy demanded how the same happened. I think (answered the Man) it was the work of the Devil, because my son, being, on a time, childishy disporting himself in a certain meadow, that accursed Fiend (if I be not deceived) made him to fall a sleep, & then awaking, I know not how, he was found taken in this manner. And speaking thes words, he poured forth abundance of tears, and humbly prayed the Divine Man, to give his son some succour. Who being mollifyed therewith (according to his custom) commanded the lame child, to give himself to sleep while he prayed; who did as much: and when S. Malachy had ended his prayer, the child immediately stood upon his feet, very jocund and lusty. The holy man kept him afterwards with him, a pretty while, and iustructed him well in the Rudiments of the Christian Faith, carrying him along with him, into diverse places with his other Domestics.  
A certain poor Man, served in a Mill of the Monastery of Benchor, maintaining himself partly with that labour, partly also with daily alms. This man had likewise been lame now for these twelve years, in such sort, as he was compelled to go with his hands on the ground, and trailing his dead feet after him. Now S. Malachy, beholding him one day before his Cell, to be somewhat sadder than ordinary; with the bowels of Charity, demanded of him, the reason why he was so pensive? The disconsolate man answered: You see, alas, how long now it is, that I miserable Caytivehave suffered this same: and how the hand of God seems verily to oppress me, and for a greater increase thereof how I receive daily nothing but scorns and reproaches of such, as should rather compassionate my Case. The benign Father, being wholly moved with these words, with eyes and hands lifted up towards the Mercy-seat of God made his prayer to that Sovereign judge; & to the end they should be more efficacious, he retires himself into his Celestina, where falling prostrate on the ground, he most humbly beseeched the divine Mercy, to restore that poor creature to his foremen strength. His prayer was quickly heard. For the Man arising from the ground, stood up firm on his feet. This thing seemed to him a Dream, for he did nothing but look about him, to see whether it were true or no. And yet nevertheless making some proof to move his Legs, & to frame his Steps, he at last acknowledged the divine Mercy to be showed upon him: and then nimbly returned home to the Mill, with much joy, and with infinite rendering of thanks to God. Whereupon his Companions, and the others who knew right well who he was, remained astonished, and amazed, as it were, at the sight of some phantasm; attributing the same to the Goodness of God, and the Sanctity of their blessed Bishop.  
In the same place, was a Man cured of the dropsy, through the only Intercession of S. Malachy. Who afterwards remained in the service of the Monastery.  
There was a certain Gentlewoman of parentage very well descended, but yet far more illustrious for her virtue, which made her most dear to the blessed Pastor. This woman, was grievously afflicted with the bloody flux; & this her disease was so vehement, as she, in process of time, was brought to an extreme debility, & even, through the abundant issuing of blood, was ready to give and yield up her spotless Soul into the hands of her merciful Redeemer. Her friends seeing her in this lamentable case, sent a messenger with all speed to S. Malachy, to entreat him to vouchsafe to come and visit her, and afford her some Comfort in this her Extremity. When the holy Bishop heard this heavy News, he was struck very sad, for the loss he saw would ensue of a Matron of that great worth and rare Example, as she was of. And suddenly determined to go his ways thither: but afterwards fearing to arrive too late, called to him Malcus' a man of a singular integrity of Conscience, (of whom we made mention before) and a very dexterous young man. Go your may's (said he) in haste, it the sickwoman, and carry her these three apples blessed by me; I hope in our Lord, that having once tasted of them, she shall not come to taste of Death, before she see me, though I be not otherwise able to come so speedily as I would. The good Malcus obeyed with expedition: and with efficacious means exhorted the dying woman to taste of the Present, which was sent her by the Bishop S. Malachy. She being comforted somewhat with the most grateful name of her spiritual Father, beekens to her Maid, (being not otherwise able to speak, or to move herself) to put up her pillow a little. Whereupon, taking one of the apples, with a trembling hand she began to bite the same, and being newly revived with the only taste thereof, broke forth into words and praises of God. By & by her sleep, which together with her taste had now for a good while been lost, returned to her again, and she reposing with great sweetness, the blood in the mean time came to make a stop. In so much as being now a wake without more ado, she found herself to be altogether whole although not without some manner of weakness, the which notwithstanding by the next day did likewise leave her, at the unexpected presence of S. Malachy.   

A Continuation of the Miracles, which S. Malachy wrought, upon diverse other Occasions. Chap. 20.  
THere dwelled near to Benchor, an Honourable Knight whose wife being arrived at the article or point of death, S. Malachy was speedily sent for to help her with fit accommodations, and with the Extreme Unction. Who came thither, and having cheered her at first with his only aspect, prepares himself to apply the holy Oil without delay: It seemed notwithstanding to all her friends very behooveful (I know not upon what occasion) and far better, to diferre the same till the next Morning. The good Father (very loath) yields thereunto, and making the sign of the Cross upon the sick woman, retired himself into the other Chambers. He had not been there long, but behold you might easily have heard, some pitiful cries, plaints, and noises founding through all the house, that their Mysteries was dead. The blessed man of God hearing this tumult, runs with his disciples, and approaching to the bed, certainly found she had given up her last breath. Whereat he was full of sorrow & heavynes, laying the fault on himself, for that she had so departed without that Sacrament; and then lifting up his hands to heaven, with great affect. Lord (said he) I cry thee mercy for I have played the fool, and been too negligent herein. It is I, even I, that have sinned, with this prolongation, & not this poor wretch, who for her part had a very good will thereunto. After he had thus exclaimed, he vowed to take no more Comfort or repose of any sort, till he had rendered to the dead, what he had wrongfully taken from her: and so standing with his face over the corpse, endeavours to warm and foment those frozen limbs with bitter tears, and burning sighs, supplying to his power, the passed want: and turning towards his Company, from time to time, would besaying to them: Watch, and pray, So as they with Psalter, and devout prayers, he with deep Sighs, passed away the whole night, without a wink of sleep; when as lo the Morning came, it pleased the Divine Clemency, to listen unto the unspeakable sighs of his most faithful Servant. What more? She opens her eyes, who was dead before: She sits up right, and knowing S. Malachy, with a devout bow, saluted him. Whereat as many as beheld the sight, & heard so marvellous things, were exceedingly amazed; and all the sadness turned into joy. Yet S. Malachy, (though there appeared no more danger for the present) very piously would needs anoint the revived, as knowing well, how assuredly in that Mystery sins are remitted, and how likewise the body feels a help. After he had finished this good act, he departed from thence. As for her, she (to the greater glory of God) suruined for some time in good health: & having performed the Penance imposed her by S. Malachy, sell sick afterwards again, & with the wont succours of the holy Church, very happily died.  
There was moreover a Woman so afflicted with the spirit of anger and fury, as not only her kinsfolks and neighbours seemed to shun her conversation; but even her own children could hardly endure to inhabit with her. Wheresoever she was, there was nothing but scolding, rancour, and a hideous storm, bold, fiery, audacious, gibing, light of fingers, untollerable, and fastidious to every one. By reason whereof, her afflicted Children not finding other way of redress, from so continual and bitter grievances, resolved to bring her (as dexterously they did) into the presence of S. Malachy, where breaking forth into tears and laments, they humbly demand succour of the servant of God. He taking compassion, as well on the danger of the Mother, as on the children's infelicity, took her a little aside, and dernaunds of her with great affect, and gracious semblance: Whether she had ever been confessed in her days, and she answering, No. Do you now then confisse (said he to her.) Which the furious woman did through divine instinct: and he having enjoined her a convenient penance, & prayed a while over her, commanded her on the behalf of Christ our Lord, that from thence forth, she should be angry no more. A thing incredible: there suddenly grew such a meekness, and so great a patience in her, that every one might know, there could be nothing therein, but merely a change from Heaven. Which was so great a comfort to her children, as cannot be expressed. She is yet living, and is said to be of so fair a condition, & of so deep a Tranquillity, as where before she was wont to exasperate and offend every one; she is now not troubled a whit withal the losses, injuries, or tribulations that can befall her.  
Now let every one, esteem of things as he please. If with the Apostle it may be lawful for me, to abound in my sense, I dare say, that greater was the exploit of this amendment, than was the recalling of the Gentlewoman spoken above from death to life: because in the former was the exterior Man raised, in the later, only the interior. But let us go forward.  
A secular man of good quality, came to condole with S. Malachy for the sterility of his soul; beseeching him to obtain for him at the hands of God some plenty of tears. With that, the holy Man of God, with a cheerful countenance approaching to him, in sign, as it were of friendship, laid his cheek to his, and added withal, That grace be given thee. From that time forward, had the lay man so great abundance of water in his eyes, as that sentence of the Scripture, seemed to be verified in him: A Fountain from the gardens: A spring of living waters. This abundance of tears the Man had to his dying day, which made his sold white, and pure from the stains of Mortal sin. And being so washed and cleansed from those spots of Capital sins, his innocent Soul ascended on high to him, Qui in altis habitat, there to give him laudes and praises, and continually to sing the celestial Song of Alleluia.   

S. Malachy, through his prayers multiplied Fishes: With other Miracles of that kind Chap. 21.  
SAINT Malachy in travailing (as we have said) to preach the word of God, did many Miracles, whereof this is one. The holy Bishop, endeavouring withal power to spread the Gospel of Christ jesus, throughout all the Kingdom of Ireland; fell by chance on a certain Island, in former times very famous for fishing 〈…〉 and for the 〈…〉 of the people, reduced in so great a sterility, as the poor 〈…〉 were brought into very hard strayts for want thereof, and ready to be famished. It was revealed, through the divine Clemency, to a certain woman, that the intercession of S. Malachy were the only remedy to help them to their former abundance of fishes. This was the reason that the people 〈◊〉 about him, as soon as he was landed, being a great deal more anxious and solicitous for fish, then for preaching, or doctrine: for they were never from his sides, coniuning him, that laying aside, for the present, all other care whatsoever, he would vouchsafe to cast his eyes upon their foresaid necessity. But the true servant of Christ, answered them, that he was come thither, not to catch fishes, but souls: yet they not withstanding, went still recommending themselves with so much more fervour, as at last it seemed good to S. Malachy, not to see light by the notable faith which they showed. Kneeling then down on the same shore, he besought our Lord to afford the grace to these men, though altogether un worthy thereof. His prayer no sooner came to the divine throne, than a good quantity of fishes somewhat greater than usual ascended to the top of the water, and even to this day doth the plenty continue. What wonder is it then, that the prayer of the Just, which penetrates heaven, should likewise dive into the Abysses, and call from thence such like, and so many squadrons of waterish creatures?  
On a time S. Malachy, with three other Bishops, arrived at the town of 〈◊〉, where they all lodged, at the house of a certain Priest; who finding himself, but ill provided for such Guests as they, said to S. Malachy: How shall I do, trow you, that have no manner of fish at all? Seek for some, answered he, of the Fishermen. O, replied the Priest, It is now two years since that there could none be found in the river, in so much as these poor men, through despair have been feign to abandon the trade. Then S. Malachy replied. Do you cause in the name of God, the nets to be cast. Which was accordingly performed, and at the first draught there came up some twelve Salmon at once, & as many at the second: so as all the company had meat enough to feed on, and to celebrate the Eternal Benignity. And to the end, that ●his thing▪ without all controversy, might be attributed to the Me●its of S. Malachy, after the feast was consummated, the former sterility did return, and so continued for two years.  
From these pleasant adventures, and as it were of sport, let us pass to a grave example of the divine Severity, yet ever mixed with his wont Mercy. There was in Lesmor a Clerk, of good example for the rest, but of Faith not so orthodox. This man taking much complacence in his knowledge, and for the sharpness of wit which he took himself to have, durst impiously affirm, that in the Eucharist, howbeit the Sacrament were there, or Sanctification, to say rather; yet was there not therefore, the Thing of the Sacrament (as Divines use to say) that is the real Body, and Blood of Christ our Lord. Upon which so abominable error of his, being often secretly admonished by S. Malachy, but ever in vain; at last he was cited to appear before a certain Congregation of Ecclesiastical persons, without the access of, any secular person, that with the least shame that were possible, he might come to acknowledge his error. Licence was there given him, freely to propound and argue: he endeavoured withal the forces he had to maintain his falsehood. But S. Malachy disputing against him, and with lively reasons, and found authorities showing how far he was from the truth (and besides S. Malachy, the rest likewise, confuted him) yet notwithstanding that arrogant man persisted, still in his diabolical opinion: he departed from thence indeed much confounded, but not amended, shamefully alleging he was not convinced through force of learning, but merely overborne and oppressed with Episcopal power. And thou Malachy (he stuck not to say) shouldst not have dealt with me in this manner, in speaking thus against the truth, and (if thou wilt but confess the matter as it is) even in truth against your own Conscience. The holy Pastor being exceedingly contristated with so pertinacious an impudence as well for the loss of that erring soul, as for the love of the Catholic Faith, causeth the Clerk anew to make his appearance in a more solemn and numerous assembly: and here the fallacyes & vanity of that contumacious wretch, being afresh laid open, and confuted he publicly exhorted him to acknowledge the falsehood, and depose his pertinacy. The same admonition did many other Priests and the gravest Prelates afford him. But being not able to 〈◊〉 move him an inch, at last they declare him a manifest Heretic, and by consequence divided from Christian Society. And yet notwithstanding all this, that ignorant and proud Wretch, persevering still in esteeming himself more wise and learned then all that were present, and further upbraiding them for partiality, whereas he only freely but defended the Gospel; S. Malachy at last being prevoked therewith, spoke out with a loud voice: Since thou 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 willingly confess the Truth, let God then make thee to confess it by force. An●… the Heeretike answering, Amen, the Council was dismissed: & that excommunicated person, not being able to suffer so great dishonour and infamy, determined to run into some foreign parts; & now with his farthel was in readiness for the way, when behold him overtaken on a sudden with a grievous infirmity; and feeling his strength to fail him, he cast himself on the ground very weary and anxious.  
In the mean time, there happened to pass by, a certain vagabond distracted fellow: Who seeing him lie on the ground i●… that manner, demanded of him; what dost thou here? And the miserable Wretch answered, he was not well, and therefore not able to go backwards or forwards. This malady (said the mad man) is nothing else but death itself; Get up then and go home again, and I will help thee. Which words were not uttered by chance, but through Divine disposition, that he might be constrained to obey a mad fellow, that would not seem to consent to so many learned and wise men. I●… sum, being guided by him, he was feign to return back into the City against his will, where having now better bethought himself, at last comes truly to repent his crime, and with a great deal of contrition causeth the Bishop to be sent for to him, and as it were in a moment confesseth the fault, detests the opinion, receives absolution, and gives up the Ghost. In this manner that delict seemed to cost him no less than his life, and as many as had heard the imprecation, were astonished at the efficacy thereof.   

Two notable accidents, upon certain faithless Men, for breach of accord with S. Malachy and another Bishop, about certain differences amongst them, Chap. 21.  
GReat, doubtless was the travail, which S. Malachy took, in the reduction of that man we mentioned above. But he suffered no less pains, nor showed he less virtue, in according certain people, now entered into a sharp contention in matter of Confines. At what time S. Malachy resided in the Convent of Benchor, those people happened to be in a great difference; to compose which, on all sides they accorded to stand to the arbitrement of S. Malachy the true Servant of Christ jesus. But he was at that time very much troubled with many cares, which was the reason he gave the charge to decide that controversy to another Bishop. But he also excused himself, saying, that S. Malachy, and not he, was required for the effect. And therefore he desired to be quitted of that toil, for that they would contemn him, & he take pains to no purpose. Go your ways (saith he) and our Lord shall be with you. And the other Bishop replied: I am content to undertake the charge, but if they listen not to me, then know for certain that I will send for you to determine this debate, which is risen amongst them. At which words, S. Malachy smiling: Do so then, answered he. Whereupon the Bishop condescended to undertake the task, and so departed.  
Within a short time after, this Bishop caused the parties to be assembled together. The cause was throughly debated on both sides: and for that time they were attoned, in such sort as they came to the signing of some articles of agreement between them, agreed upon with full Consent on all sides: and theerupon they went home to their own houses. But scarce were they gone on the way, when one of the Company being tempted by the accursed enemy of Mankind, raised a sedition between them, having a fair opportunity offered him. For the other was turning homewards careless on the way, supposing they were now out of all danger, and therefore were naked, I mean, without any manner of defensive or offensive weapons about them. Whereupon that wicked Company whereof we first spoke, began to say among themselves: What do we stand upon? We have already the victory in our hands, and we may now work our own revenge. With this fatal resolution they furiously turning back, made haste to overtake them on the sudden, and unawares. Which the Bishop perceiving hied him to the Captain of that Rout, or assembly, and began to complain for so great an injustice, and for so open and untolerable a treason; but his complaint availing little, he adds protestations, he allegeth the respect and authority of him that sent him thither, he menaceth the wrath of God, & in fine used all possible means to divert him from so great a perfidiousness. But the barbarous man, after he had let him a while conjure & cry, at last turning himself to him with a proud countenance: Do you think (answered he) that for your sake we should let the malefactors get out of our Claws, whom God as a prey, hath so delivered to us? Then the poor Bishop remembering himself of the admonishment given at his departure, stretching his eyes and arms towards the Monastery began vehemently to weep & exclaim: O man of God, where are you now? Where are you? Did not I presage as much before? O Father? Wretch that I am, unhappy 〈◊〉 Hither I came to do good, and not any hurt. And behold beer, through my occasion do those there loose their bodies, and these their souls.  
In this manner the good Prelate went up and down afflicting himself, and calling upon his S. Malachy. When on a sudden among the wicked Persecutors, was heard a terribly voice, (nor could it ever be known from whence it came) as if certain other of their Neighbours with armed troops, had made some incursion into their country, and put all to fire and sword, leading their wives and children captives without mercy. At which rumour, though vain, their boldness immediately being repressed, every one betook him to his heels, leaving the rest to shift for themselves: and as it chanceth in like tumults, the confusion was so great, as the hind most not having once heard the said voice, nor knowing wherefore, let themselues be led by the foremost, until such time as coming into their country, and finding there no such matter as they stood in fear of, remained ashamed, and came to know, how in recompense of the malice and pride, which they had showed to the messenger of S. Malachy, they had through divine judgement, been given into the power of the Spirit of Lying. Whereat the Bishop rejoicing, he speedily returned back to carry the news to S. Malachy. Who seeing things notwithstanding as yet very broken, and still fearing new disorders, determined to go thither in person, to establish between those s●…uage Nations, a sound and sincere concord indeed.  
But yet neither could he for the present seem to bring his design to pass, in regard the Conditions being freshly renewed, not without much ado, & particular oaths having been taken of such, as the business concerned, those who had been abused, being mindful of the injury done them before, did impiously agree among themselves to cry quit●…ance with the perjurious and perfidious people: And so they went after them, as sure to overtake them embroiled with domestic cares, whereby they might handle them as they list.  
But it fell out, through divine dispensation, that having easily passed over a certain great River, which lay in the way, they were yet stayed with a little brook, not far off, & in despite of themselues were constrained to make a stop. For now to them it seemed to be more than the wont brook, yea a very huge water, which on every side denied them passage; in so much as being all in admiration, they said: Whence comes this inundation? the weather is fair, the mountains without snow, there hath fallen no rain of late; and though it should chance to have rained, yet which of us can remember this little torrent, with any waters ever to have been swollen in this sort, as to come thus to cover the land, and to over flow the champains? The hand of God without doubt is here. He hath cut off our way, for love of this Saint, whose pacts we have not observed, and have likewise violated his precepts. So as these also without satisfying their greedy desires, full of shame, & dread, now turned their backs. The fame whereof was spread all about, and every one blessed the Divine Majesty, that knows so well to catch the crafty in their own snares; to pull down the crests of the proud; and to exalt such as humbly and faithfully serve him. Which is likewise made more manifest in the case we shall presently tell you.   

Two other terrible examples of the judgement of God, showed upon the contemners of S. Malachy; yet mingled with mercy for his sake. Chap. 23.  
A Principal Gentleman of Ireland, falling out with one of those Kings, though he dealt about reconciliation, yet by no means would he seem to trust him, unless such a one as S. Malachy at least would seem to interpose himself as surety between them. And certainly not without cause, as the sequel will make apparent. For as much as that Gentleman assuring himself, not so much upon the word of the King, as on the authority and promise of the mediator, who was even S. Malachy himself, while appearing in public he walked without fear at all, behold unawares is cast into prison by the King; who could not subdue the inveterated passion in him, nor Christianly forget that ancient hatred. The friends & kinsfolks of the poor knight beholding him with their infinite sorrow in manifest peril of death, recurre to S. Malachy; under whose surety that other had put himself into the power of the King.  
The Servant of Christ, being strooken heerwith, and affronted withal at so just a quarrel, what he intends to do in this case, we will declare. Having so sure a foundation, as the past promise of the King, he quickly rears up a strong Bull work against ensuing assaults, and endeavours withal power to suppress this enormous treason; to effect which, he musters up a brave army, to wit, a good company of his disciples, and with them presenting himself before the king, demands the prisoner at his hands: and being shamefully denied. You wrong (saith he) at once the divine Majesty, yourself, & me, in violating the pact. And if you have no care thereof; yet have I truly. This good man was persuaded by me; he founded himself upon my word. If he chance to dye, I am he that have betrayed him, and am by consequence guilty of his blood: to what purpose would you seem to make me a Traitor, and you disloyal? Then know for certain, that neither I, nor these of mine, are resolved to taste any food, until such time, as the innocent, be put into liberty, as be aught. That said, he entered with them into the Temple, where all that day, with the next night, they persevered together in Fasting and Prayer. But the King who dwelled hard by, fearing lest their prayers, he being so near, might seem to have too much force uphim, with a foolish caution and advice, took the resolution to absent himself from thence. But he no sooner was departed, but God, who reserves revenge unto himself, struck him blind, and having lost wholly his sight, was glad to restore the prisoner; and to be as an other Saul to Ananias, so he to the holy Bishop, being led unto him, where humbly craving pardon, and mercy, through the benign & fervent intercession of him, that could not be mindful of injuries, with a double miracle he had presently his sight. And in fine, the Gentleman being delivered, an inviolable friendship was accorded on. This surely was a great demonstration of the divine judgement; but perhaps, this other, which (God assisting us) we intent to declare, will by the wise arbitratours, be held no less.  
We have related above, that S. Malachy accepting the abbey of Benchor, being content with the Church, and Seat, had voluntarily yielded the rents and demeans to a certain lay man. This man paying as commonly is wont so great a benefit with great discourtesy and ingratitude, from the time he entered into the administration of those goods, began to use many insolences against the holy Abbot and against his Religious; annoying them in every thing▪ persecuting them on every side, and endeavouring always to vilify, and denigrate their actions and deportments; but he escaped not free for so great injustice. He had an only son, who through the example of the wicked Father being likewise bend to molest & offend the Man of God, within the term of a year only, made a miserable End. The matter succeeded in this sort.  
It seemed good to S. Malachy, for the increase of divine worship, to build an Oratory of stone work, as he had seen done in other countries, and the foundations now being laid, those barbarous people, fell a wondering thereat, as at a thing very unusual with them. But that malicious and proud young man above the rest, of whom we spoke, showed not only with the others an admiration thereof, but such rancour withal, as he could not contain himself from murmuring here and there against the same: and after he had with diverse instigations and calumnies endeavoured to stir up those people against the Servant of Christ; at last coming with a shoal of Townsmen, upon the heat of the business, and with a scornful eye, beholding S. Malachy. Hold (saith he) O you Sir: what cappriccio is now come into your head, to bring such a novelty into our house? We are in Ireland, not in France: What a lenity is this? What need is there of such a sump●…uous and proud work? Where have you means to finish it, poor thing as you are? Who shall ever see it come to the roof? It is surely the trick of a mad man, to set hand to a work so beyond his compass. Hold, hold your hand; Desist from, a vanity so great, or otherwise shall we make you give over, nor will we suffer you to go forward by any means about such a building, impossible to be brought to perfection. In which words, the hayr●…brayne and rash man came to discover his wicked intention: without once reflecting on his small forces. Forasmuch as his followers▪ in whom he confided so much, as soon as they came in sight of the venerable Bishop, being suddenly changed in hart, returned home to their houses; that impious, seditious and wretched Leader being quite aboandoned, as he deserved. To whom with Fortitude and Meroy withal, the man of God, answered: Thou miserable wretch, this work which thou here seest begun, and beholdest with an ill countenance; shall be finished without doubt, and many shall see it accomplished. But thou, because thou hast no will thereunto. shalt never see it: And look you to it, least Death surprise you not in your sin. So S. Malachy said, & so fell it out. He died, and the work was finished: but he saw it not, because, as we said; he died the very same year.  
Now the Father of that wicked wretch, having known of the Saints prediction, he hath killed (saith he) my son, and was so incensed against him for it, as in the presence of the Captain and of the Chief of the Country there, he had no respect to him a whit, but called him Envious, hollow-harted, and a mere Cosener; and lastly for a greater spite, termed him a Monkey. To which bitter contumelies, the follower of Christ answered not a word: But yet the great God would not seem to hold his peace, through whose will, on that very day, that impious wretch, being seized on by an infernal spirit, and cast into the fire, was by his friends very hardly taken forth from thence, with his limbs all burnt, with his wits cracked, with his face awry & foaming as the mouth; sending forth such horrible cries, & framing such strange gestuures of the body, as put a terror into every one, and many together had much a do to hold him. Heerupon Saint Malachy was called to the spectacle, and with wont clemency making his prayer for him, was heard, but not to the full; Because that in chastisement and memory of the offence committed against the holy Father; he had after that, even to this day, certain grievous fits, which at changes of the Move, do most bitterly afflict him.   

S. Malachy lights on a treasure to build with, the meddle was presented to him in a vision. Together with his gift of Prophecy. Chap. 24.  
Return we now to the building: for which in truth, S. Malachy had no manner of means at all, either little or much; but yet felt in his hart, a certain firm confidence in God. Whereof he was not a whit deceived; since our Lord, perceiving this Servant of his not to go founding himself in treasures any ways by him purchased, made him to light upon one, within the situation itself, never touched or known till that very hour. S. Malachy then seemed to find in the purse of God, what he could not have found in his owns and that worthily truly. For what was more reasonable, then for him to have the coffer in common with God, who had nothing proper of his own? While he in fine, that hath a lively faith, hath all the riches of the world. And what else is the world, but an inexhanstible Bank of the divine Clemency? The whole circuit of the world is mine (saith he) and whatsoever is contained therein. And hence it is that S. Malachy discovered those moneys, not disposing the or laying them up, but exposing them indeed; ordaining so large a donary of the Creator, should wholly without sparing a whit be spent in the service of the Creator: and so much the rather, as by a passed Revelation, he knew that Edifice to be acceptable to his divine Majesty. Because that having first before he once set hand unto it, conferred the intent with his Domestics, and finding them somewhat dubious, by reason of the charges; he gave himself to prayer, to find out by that means the will of God thereupon.  
When returning one day from a certain Pilgrimage, which he made, being now somewhat near to the place designed, he lifted up his eyes, and behold, he seemed to discern a very goodly Oratory of stone, and of excellent workman ship withal, & regarding the scite, the former, & composition thereof, impressed the same in his fantasy with that tenacity, as the thing being communicated with some few of his own disciples of the more ancient sort of them, he gave beginning to the building, & finished with such diligence the scite, the model, and prorportion, with all the circumstances, by degrees, as the plot came just to answer the fold; as if he also with Moses had heard, See you do all according to the platform, which was ●…hewed you in the mountain. He had afterwards a like vision to this of that other Oratory, which he built in a place called Sabelline; saving that he saw the fashion not only of the Oratory there, but even of the whole Monastery like wise.  
These said manifestations were of material and sensible things. But that which now we shall set down, was of an edifice merely spiritual. S. Malachy passing a long by a certain City, and a great multitude concurring thither to meet with him, by chance he discovered among the troops, a young man very curious to view him, who mounting on the top of a huge stone, was standing there a tip●…oe, for that purpose to behold him, extending forth his neck as much as he could: and S. Malachy being certified from heaven, how that person stood there with the spirit and virtue of Zacheus, yet the friend of God held his peace for that time, making show as if he had not ●…eeded the same. But after at night in his Lodging, he told some of his how he had not seen him only, but also foreseen what should betide him. The third day was not passed, when that devout man ●…ppeared at his Inn, in the company of a Gentleman his Master: who courteously proposing to S. Malachy, the good desires of the young man, besought his Paternity to accept him, among his children, and followers. S. Malachy acknowledged him presently, and added: He had no need to be recommended by men, who already by God had been so recommended to him. And so taking him jovingly by the hand consigned him to other Fathers, & Brothers of his, & lives (if I be not deceived) at this day, a chief Lay-Brother in the Monastery of S●…ria, with an excellent fame of religion and sanctity.  
The Blessed Bishop, like wise showed a great gift of Prophecy, even at the time of his saying Mass when being aware of a certain crime which lay hid in the Deacon, for that time did no more but look upon him, and fetch a sigh, but after the sacred Mystery was ended, he examined the minister himself in secret, as touching his conscience and he ingenuously confessed, that night he had felt an illusion. Whereupon the most chaste Priest enjoining him a secret penance; this day, said he, thou oughtest not to appear at the Altar, but chastely and modestly rather to have withdrawn thyself, and to have carried the respect due to the most holy Sacrament: to the end that being purged with such humiliation, thou mightst have been found more worthy hereafter to so noble an office.  
And so another time, while he was offering the Host, with accustomed reverence & purity of hart. There was a glorious dove seen to enter in at the window of the Temple, which illumining the whole Church, that was somewhat obscure before, after it had flown here & there, came lastly to rest upon the Cross, before the face of the Celebrant. He that served was astonished at the novelty as well of the light, as of the Bird itself, (which is rarely seen in those countries) & as half dead, fell grovelling on the ground, so as he hardly came to himself all the time of the ministry. When Mass was ended S. Malachy did forbid him under mortal sin, to discover the thing as long as he lived. He being at Ardmach, in company wi●… another Bishop his Colleague, they arose by night together will others, to visit devoutly the Sepulchers of the holy Martyrs there laid up in the Cemeter of the blessed Patrick. And behold how one of those Altars did seem to burn into lively flames. Whence S. Malachy guessing the great merits of such as reposed there, ran in of a suden, and plunging himself into the midst of the flames, with open arms embraced the Altar. Where what he did, or felt in the place there is no man knows. This is true, that the Man of God came forth of that fire more inflamed with celestial Love, than ever: as all his more dearest friends very easily perceived.   

S. Malachy remembering his purpose, calls a Synod about the Palls. And undertakes a second voyage to Rome. Chap. 25.  
NOw at last, let us here make a stop to the signs and prodigies from the divine arm, showed forth in favour of S. Malachy by an entire catalogue thereof. It sufficeth that noting the same with some diligence, which we have already touched, the judicious will assuredly acknowledge all the species, at least of the ancient miracles; as Prophecies, Revelations, Chasticements of the wicked, Healths of body, Conversions of minds, Resurrection of the Dead. Besides which, through his so excellent virtues, he was magnifyed of our Lord likewise in the sight of Kings, and the greatest Men: he was full of merits, and after many and grievous persecutions, surmounted at last, even Envy itself. From so honourable a Race, what might be expected here, but a glorious issue? Let us now see then in what manner he went forth.  
On a day S. Malachy, and the Brethren together were in a holy recreation, conferring amongst themselves of the last passage: and every one being invited by turns, discovered where, & when it would like him best to depose his terrene carcase, while some insinuating one, and some another solemnity; some this, some that Cemeter or Churchyard; S. Malachy (when it came to his turn to answer) standing first a little in suspense, for the place distinguished: That if he were to remain in Ireland, it would be most grateful to him, to be where he might arise in the company of the holy Apostle S. Patrick: & if in foreign parts, no where more willingly would he repose his bones, then in the church of Clarevallis. As for the time he chose the day of Allsoules: to the end to be accompanied then with greatest number of suffrages, that might be. Now if this were S. Malachyes desire, he had the favour afforded; If an Oracle, it miss not a jot, as we shall see.  
The fervent desire, which S. Malachy ever had to adorn the two Metropolitans with the sacred Palls, was not a whit extinguished, though for a time buried in the ashes of oblivion. Which now he unraked, and was wholly inflamed with a desire to put it in present execution. Which to perform effectually, after he had recommended himself to our Lord, he gathered a general Synod in Ireland: and after the dispatch of other particulars, came to the foresaid point of the Palls. The proposition pleased all for the most; but with condition, that the enterprise should be committed to some other, besides him. Yet notwithstanding S. Malachy made great instance to go, in regard Pope Innocent was dead, & Eugenius, a Monk of Clarevallis, was mutually chosen for his Successor: yet had he no cause to fear a repulse, in renewing of his memorial; for he was a Man of that benignity and sanctimony, as the fame thereof spread itself throughout the world: and likewise in respect, Pope Eugenius for public affairs, was then resident in France, which was a short way, and less dangerous, than the first he undertook. The Prelates perceiving the great desire he had to undergo that painful journey, durst not much oppose themselves against the will of the holy man, but consented to his desire: Which he undertook as soon as the Council was dissolved.  
Amongst a great number of his friends, which accompanied him to the Sea side, one was called by name Catholicus, who was sorely molested with an Epilepsy; in such sort as often times in a day he would fall on the ground, to the exceeding great bruising of his whole body, which to prevent he had always one to attend upon him. This miserable wretch turning himself to S. Malachy, with a lamentable voice, and full of tears, said. Ay me, Father, you go now your ways, and know in how great, and how many afflictions you leave me, and yet can you help it, if you please: and though I for my sins, have, and do deserve all evil, yet alas, what fault have these poor Brothers done, to whom for my sake is not permitted an hour of rest? with this plaint the hart of the Blessed Bishop was as it were, now spilt asunder: When he dear embracing the sick man, made the sign of the Cross on his breast, saying: Rest secure yet, and be confident that you shall not fall into the like fit again, till my return. That malady the poor man had sustained for six years together. But now at the only speech of S. Malachy, he was recovered in such sort, as he never fell more thereinto, being in a moment delivered from so grievous, & bitter a pain, and the assistants themselves from a long and irksome a custody.  
After which, as S. Malachy was taking ship, came two of his most inward friends to him, for to crave a notable boon at his hands; and he demanding what their request was: we will not tell you, said they, till you promise us first to comfort us: he promised so to do; then they replied. We will (said they) that you faithfully promise us another thing, which is to make your return to Ireland again, very safe and sound: the very same did all the others beseech him. Whereupon the servant of Christ, retiring a little, as he was wont, within himself; and being sorry first for having so engaged his word, not knowing how to discharge himself, being ●…ing on the one side to come out of debt, and sorry on the other 〈◊〉, leave Clarevallis. But after the same, at last resolved with himself, to comply with that which pressed him most, that is, not to fail in his promise, remitting the rest to the divine pleasure. Then though with an evil will he answered, yea: and his disciples being comforted not a little heerwith, he caused them to hoist up sail. But in the midst of the Sea, he was driven back again upon the cost of Ireland, by a sudden contrary wind. Where he landed, and passed the night in a Church of his, acknowledging and thanking the divine goodness, for that without the prejudice of any, he had by that means acquit him from all wherein he was bound to his Monks. And in the morning being afresh embarked, he landed very happily on the same day in the Kingdom of Scotland, & after two days more arrived at Verdestagnus, where leaving certain subjects for a Cistercian abbey which he had founded there, he pursued his journey, and being honourably received by King David, in the confines there, staying in that place for some days, not without a great deal of fruit, he passed into England.   

In Gisburne in England S. Malachy cures a woman of a Canker. And after arrives at Clarevallis, where he falls mortally sick. Chap. 26.  
SAINT Malachy at his entrance into the kingdom of England lodged in the Canonry of Gisburne: where he contracted a very straight friendship with those Priests there of singular fame. Moreover in that place, a woman was presented to him, very much deformed, and eaten with a horrible Canker: He blessed a little water, & therewith sprinkled the sores so efficaciously, as the pains thereof suddenly ceasing, the next day they could hardly be seen.  
Departing from thence, he went to the Sea side, where he met withan unlooked for impediment, caused through certain differences risen at that time between the Apostolic Sea, and the King of England about jurisdiction; which were then grown so hot, as he through abundant jealousy permitted no Prelate to go forth of the Island; and for the same respect, was the Bishop Malachy likewise retained for some tyme. Who on the one side though he were sorry to be delayed in that sort from his businesses: yet was he not aware on the other side, that this very delay seemed to favour his vows, & designs. Because, if he had presently gone into France, he had been feign, leaving Clarevallis, and passing the Alps, with diligence to have measured the greater part of Italy; the Pope Eugenius being already gone forth of France, & approached to Rome. Where as now by this delay through a sea-passage, his journey by divine providence came to be disposed in that manner as he arrived at Clarevallis, even at the point himself desired. Where being received by us, as an Angel descended from Paradise; what a light seemed to shine upon this our habitation, and what a solemn Feast was it for us all? and I myself now trembling, and weak as I was, being revived with the news, ran full of exultation and iubiley to his holy kisses and embraces; and he reciprocally, showed himself to us, as he was wont, very pleasant and affable, and wonderfully grateful to every one.  
Now by this time were some four or five days of our common gladness passed over, when behold on the Feast of the glorious S. Luke the Evangelist, after he had with extraordinary devotion celebrated Mass in public, he was taken with a fever. Whereupon falling down on his bed, he fell sick, and all our joy was turned ●…o sadness; though somewhat moderated the while, in that the fever as yet was not very violent nor rigid. So as recovering hope, you might have seen, what running there was up and down in the house, some to provide medicines, some to apply somentations, some to bring him meat, some to exhort and entreat him to eat, every one striving to serve such a Guest, and accounting themselves most happy that could have most access to that holy & blessed man When S. Malachy beholding than with a benign countenance: All these pains (would he say) are too much for you to take: but yet for your sakes I refuse them not, and willingly do what you command me. He knew right well his latest hour approached: and to his companions, who would seem to comfort him with saying there appeared in him no mortal sign, It is convenient (would he answer) by all means that Malachy this year depart this life. The day approaches now, which I, as you very well know, have always wished to be the last of my short days. I know well in whom I trust: and now that I have part of my intent, I am certain, and secure in like sort that my desire shallbe granted in the rest. He that brought me through his clemency to this place I desired so much; will not deny me the time nor term: and for as much as concerns this weary body of mine, I will here repose it: for the soul he shall provide for it, who gives salvation to such as put their trust in him: Nor have I any small confidence in the same dya, wherein by the living is purchased so great a help to the dead.  
And now approached full near the day indeed, when he spoke so freely of it: so as not to lose any time, he craved for the Extreme unction. And while the Monks were about to descend into the Church to fetch the holy Oil with procession thence unto his chamber, he would not seem to consent thereunto by any means: but would in person be led down thither, where with the greatest veneration that might be, having taken the holy Oil, as also the heavenly Viatique, he returned to his bed, and recommended himself to the prayers of the Brethren, as he likewise mutually recommended them to our Lord. And it is a marvellous thing, how from an upper chamber that was somewhat high, wherein he was lodged, he came forth and descended on his feet, while he affirmed not withstanding, that death had knocked at the door. And yet, who would believe it? He was not pale in the face, nor meager, nor wrinkled in the brow, nor had his eyes funck, nor his nose sharp, nor his lips contracted, nor black his teeth, nor lean & slender his neck, nor crumped in the shoulders, nor finally had he the flesh of the whole body any whit fallen away. Thus far hath my pen gone on its course; now it seems, as it were, to run a ground, and loath to pass to that which by all means is convenient to be written, as immediately follows.   

The blessed Death of the most venerable Bishop S. Malachy. With a miracle which fell out after. Chap. 27.  
THe joyful Commemoration of All-Saints, arrived at last; when we entered into the Choir, but with a doleful music, & yet was it necessity for us to sing in mourning. S. Malachy though he could not sing, yet mourned not, but rejoiced rather for his approach so near to the triumph at hand. His defect of voice he supplied with a iubiley of the mind. He honoured that Blessed Society, whereof he was very soon to make up one he paid to others that tribute, which within little after was likewise to be paid to him: The sacred Offices being ended, as well as they could be, S. Malachy now approached, not to night, but even to Aurora, as it were; not was it Aurora indeed, since darkness being now banished, the day was come: so as the fever renforcing itself, the vital parts begun through all the limbs to put forth first a boiling, and then a cold sweat. To the end that even that blessed soul itself like wised might seem to pass through fire and water, into rest.  
And now hope being quite lost on all sides, and each one resuming his own prognosticat, and acknowledging those of the sick to be likewise true; we were called on his behalf to the Celestina where he lay, & he casting his eyes towards us: With a great desire (said he) have I desired to make this present Pascha with your Charities: Thanks be to the supernal piety, that I see not myself defrauded of my hope. If I be able I shall not be unmindful of you. Go to, I shall. I have put my trust in God, and every thing is possible to the believer. I have loved God, I have loved you: Love is without term. Hereupon looking up to heaven, he adds, O Lord conserve these in thy name, and not these only, but all those who by means of thy word, and my ministry, have been dedicated to thy holy service. After which imposing hands upon all, one by one, he makes us to go rest ourselves: alleging the extremest article was not yet arrived. We went our ways then, and about midnight, being newly awaked, we ran to him again, who was now upon departure. The chamber, and all the house was filled; there having been besides our own family, many Abbots repaired hither from other places. And so with psalms, hymns, and spiritual Canticles accompanied we our friend in his way homewards.  
Thus S. Malachy Bishop of Ireland, & Legate of the Apostolic Sea, assumpted as it were from our hands by the Angels, in the year of our Lord. 1148. and of his age 54. in the day and place by him chosen & prognosticated before, most peaceably slept in our Lord. And may be said to sleep; Since we all having our eyes fixed upon that venerable face of his, were none of us aware of his last breath; there not appearing in the dead the least sign to distinguish him a whit from what he was living. And such was the freshness of that whole angelical countenance of his, as he might seem to have received rather an ornamet from death, than any injury at all. And finally himself was not changed a whit, but he changed us rather: Forsomuch as in a moment, our mourning was turned to jubiley, plaint to song, and the domestical discipline also, which was somewhat troubled before with so grievous an accident, was now returned to its frame again.  
The sacred Body being taken out of the chamber, upon Abbot's shoulders, was carried (according to his own design) into ●he Chapel of the most blessed Virgin. There were the Exequys performed with great celebrity; the Mass was solemnly sung, nor was there any want of those diligences, which appertain to such work of piety. Nor is it to be silenced the while, how a certain ●hild standing in the mean time a pretty way off, with a dead arm ●f his, not without a grievous impediment and deformity to him; I myself being aware thereof, becked to him, to come to me, when ●●aking the withered arm, I applied it to the hand of the glorious Bishop, and he publicly on a sudden, retired from thence with is arm, and hand made whole and sound. That done, those Organs of the holy Ghost, were deposed in the appointed Sepulchre.  
In this manner the good S. Malachy, having happily run his career, went his ways to the immortal crowns: leaving us all ●o less full of solid edification, then of laudable Enuy. It rests now O Saviour, and our jesus, that as we being put in trust with this most ●oble treasure of yours, ready to restore it whensoever you shallbe pleased tn require the same: so your Majesty, would vouchsafe not ●o take it from hence, without the spoils of so many companions ●nd friends; but as we have had him, as a Guest, and Conuictour ●n this transitory life; so may we have him as a Guide & Conductor ●nto heaven, for to reign there with thee, and him, world without ●nd.   
FINIS.   

S. ANTONY.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

Speak, Oyee shores, near which the Sun doth rise,  
How bright from you his golden Chariot flies,  
Reflecting his strong lustre on your streams,  
And makes your gems vie purple with his beams:  
Express you this, and we may parallel  
The glorious light that issued from the Cell  
Of this dear Saint; which made th' enamoured sky,  
To wonder at a State, so low, so high.   

Behold his fasting, watching, daily strife  
With hellish Foes, his troubles during life;  
Yet like the Palm with greater burden pressed  
Raised more aloft, by pains obtaining rest.  
Contempt of riches did a treasure gain  
Immortal, precious. He cast down, doth reign  
Above the Spheres. And we from him may know  
Heavens high way lies not through the world below.    

THE LIFE OF S. ANTONY ABBOT.  
Taken out S. Athanasius, from S. Hierome, Palladius, and others.  

The Genius and disposition of S. Antony: with his Vocation, and Renuntiation of the world. Chap. 1.  
SAINT ANTONY of Egypt, that glorious Conqueror of himself, and triumpher of the Princes, and powers of darkness, was borne in the confines of Heraclea, in a place called of Sozomenus by the name of Coma, and by Nychephorus Conia; a variety sprung peradventure from the error of the Copyers: and so it is to be thought, since Coma in the Greek tongue doth signify a Bourg, and therefore it is a common opinion of some, that either of both the Authors had so written. But howsoever it be, it appears very well, that S. Anthony from the first beginning was destined to high erterprises; since Nature, Education, and grace have concurred with so liberal a hand, to favour and adorn him. He had an able, and lively temperature of body; an aspect both grave and pleasant; a sacacious judgement; a memory tenacious; a wit docible, acute, and constant. Besides he was bred of Christian parents, very honourable, with singular care and custody, and with so much the greater facility, as the Child of his own accord, being much aliened from childish sports, and profane studies, showed himself most amorous of silence, and of Churches; attentive to the word of God, content with simple fare, and without any delicacies. To such matters, and addresses as these, the holy Ghost added the form, and the ornaments, which presently we shall see. For that indeed in the most dangerous passage of his age, which was of 18. or 20. being left an Orphan, with one Sister only, certain things began to come into his mind, which formerly he had heard, or read, of the Counsels of Christ, of the conversation of his disciples, and of the marvellous fervour of the primitive Church, at such time as the faithful, replenished with charity, selling their houses and livings, and whatsoever else they possessed in the world, went voluntarily, bringing the price thereof, and laying the same at the feet of the Apostles. Considering withal, the inestimable rewards, wherewith for the same they were to be recompensed in Heaven.  
These thoughts, went S. Antony revolving in his mind; when as it happened through divine disposition, being entered into a Temple, according to custom, he heard in the very same instant, these words of the Gospel recited; Si vis perfectus esse, vade, & vend omnia quaecumque habes, & da pauperibus, & veni sequere me, & habebis thesaurum in caelo. The words were not sung to a deaf man: they suddenly pierced with extraordinary feeling unto the marrow & 〈◊〉 Whereupon the Sacrifiec being ended, he returned home from thenc●… without delay: and gave liberally the rents of his Patrimony to his kindred, which were 300. acres of very fertile land, as S. Athanasu●…s affirms (to whose Greek text I do particularly adhere, though others have accounted it for some 300. trees of fruitful Palms) and this to avoid all manner of contention. For the movables he put them to sale, and taking from thence a sum of money, distributed the same to the poor; reserving to himself, but a very small part for necessities occurring, and especially for his Sister's sake. But within little after, being returned to the Church, and hearing that other advice of the chief Verity; Nolite cogitare de crastino: with a generous resolution he made an end of selling the rest, and placing the child his Sister, in the company of some noble and devout Virgins, he distributed the rest that remained, to the poor. Thence leaving his house, and parents, being replenished with singular confidence, he made his entry into the sharp way of perfect Virtue.  
At that time, there were not on foot so many Monasteryes in Egypt, as were afterwards to be seen: and in the Deserts which were more remote (none can remember) that ever any one inhabited, till that time: But, he that would with particular study, give himself to divine Service, and attend to the salvation of his soul, for the most, recollected himself into some little Lodging, near to his country, and there would exercise and apply himself with sundry means to pacify the heavenly wrath, to amend his manners, & to prepare himself for death. The holy youth having got some notice of one of these Exe●…citants, being now of good years, and well experienced, disposed himself to do as much. And likewise sequestering himself from the conversation of seculars, began first to deal with him, and afterwards with others, from time to time, such as daily he discovered to be addicted to that manner of life: and not for curiosity to know sundry inclinations of natures, or features of faces, but with diligence only to observe the industryes, and virtuous qualities of all, and in each one to imitate whatsoever might seem more admirable in him; and so like a wise Bee, for the framing of his mystical honey, in visiting them at times, and showing himself officious, obsequious, and obedient to them, he went on with a great deal of judgement; collecting abstinence from hence, thence affability, from one dexterity in conversation, from another vigilancy in praying, from this here patience and meekness, from him there sharp penance and mortification, and from all together a fear of God, and christian charity to his Neighbour. And it is truly a thing worthy of note, that he contending so with every one to his power in so noble an enterprise, would be doing the same with such circumspection, and with so much sweetness; as not only he was free from rancour and envy, but likewise highly beloved and esteemed of every one. And moreover now having made the renunciation of his goods, and having nothing to sustain himself, he would not live with the sweat of other men's brows, but would give some time to the labour of his hands, & of the price which he purchased with his travels, retaining only to himself, so much as might suffice him for a little bread, he would divide the rest with very great charity, among the poor.   

S. Anthony is twice tempted by the evil Spirits: but rejects them both. Chap. 2.  
TO so fair a beginning, and so happy a progress, the subtle & cruel Enemy of human kind, opposeth himself, using all art, and framing every engine, to withdraw the new soldier from his glorious purposes. First he begins on the one side, to reduce into his mind, his parental inheritance, the commodity and delights of his home; his nobility of blood, with the hope of new purposes. On the other, the straight way of virtue, the frailty of flesh, the difficulty of pennances, especially in the spatiousnes of a long life, which with apparent reasons, he would seem to make him promise to himself. He added moreover, the due solicitude of his kindred, & particularly of the virgin his Sister; who though recommended to others, yet if peradventure any sad disaster should betide her, she might justly in the sight of God & men, complain of him. With these suggestions, gave Satan the first assaults to S. Antony: and perceiving himself to be so valiantly repelled with words of the divine scripture, through lively faith, and with the memory of the Poverty, of the dolours, and Passion of Christ; he reenforced the battle afresh, with a squadron of bestial & carnal thoughts, enflaming in an instant, the natural incentives of youthful age, and representing in his imagination day and night, sundry forms of beautiful and lascivious women. This new war, as it was continual and perilous to S. Antony, so was it grievous and troublesome to him beyond measure, and the Enemies so much the more audacious and fierce, as their intelligence on earth was greater, and their inflamed darts seemed to penetrate more near to the Fort of the soul.  
Nevertheless, the stout and faithful Guardian, opposed so many rampiers of vigils, fastings, considerations of infernal pains and of the last judgement; and above all obtained with humble and fervent prayer so much succour from heaven, as even likewise from these battles, he seemed to carry away always a happy & glorious victory. Whereupon the restless Adversary did tempt him with arrogancy, and vanity, hoping by that means to deprive him of the crown. Within a little after, the Envious & diabolical wretch appeared to the blessed young man, in the shape of a horrid, & young Blackamoor, complaining with a human voice, & prostrate at his feet, said to him: Many, and many, O Antony, have I deceived in my time, but as by other Saints, so likewise now by thee, and thy valour, am I put to confusion. Being demanded, who he was: I am said he, the friend of Carnality. I am he that moves debates, & in sundry manners, do cause perplexities in youth; & therefore they do call me, the spirit of Fornication. How many, that have been disposed to live in Chastity, have I made them already to alter their purposes? How many, that have begun to keep the same, have I reduced again to their obscenes and uncleanness, as before? I am he, through whose occasion, the Prophet so reprehends the lapsed, saying: Spirit●… fornicationis seducti estis: & surely with reason too, since I, & no other but I, am he that deceived them. And I finally, am he, who have tempted thee often, yet hitherto could I never ensnare thee.  
At these words, S. Anthony acknowledging, all good to come from heaven, suddenly gave thanks to the divine Goodness, & thence taking new confidence, thus answered the Devil. Thou then for aught I can see, art a very coward, and hast little in thee: and likewise the age, and hue thou hast taken upon thee, are right signs of great weakness and baseness in thee: and added, For this reason alone, (quoth he) I will not care for thee. And concluded with great iubiley of hart: Dominus mihi adiutor, & ego despiciam inimicos ineos. Scarcely had he begun to sing this goodly verse, of the hundred & seavententh psalm, when the infamous seducer vanished quite, full of rage, and confusion. And it was but just, that the fierce encounters, and vercrate stratagems of that immortal substance, which had once the impious boldness, to rise up against the Highest; should remain thus scorned & reproached by a young man, encumbered with flesh, and encompassed with infirmity.  
But yet for all this, S. Antony held not himself a whit secure, or out of danger: because he had well understood ere now, how the wicked spirits, have a thousand inventions to hurt with. Heerupon taking all ways new courage, at the presence of God, he would never lay down the arms of justice; nor yet discovered he only, from the strongest tower of holy faith, with high contemplation, the country afar off, but even lay also in wait with particular attention to be always ready against the domestical enemies, not suffering in the Ports of the hart any thought to have entrance, not throughly examined, and well known. He had all his parts subdued and restrained with severe laws, and hests. He would pass very often whole mights in prayer, and when through extreme necessity it behoved him to rest somewhat, he had no other bed, than a piece of a mat, or the bare ground. Some two or three days together, would he be without eating or drinking awhit, and at last would refresh himself with nothing else, but bread, and a l●…le water, and salt.  
And here it is to be noted, that he slacked not his rigour after he had thus continued a while as if he had done enough: nor measured he the greatness of his profit by continuance of time: But day by day, he would suppose he did but then begin, remembering that saying of Elias: The Lord lives, in whose sight I do stand to day. In which saying, S. Antony would ponder on that word, to day: being well advised, that the soldier of Christ, were to make no reckoning of the travails, and years now passed over; but as if every day, he had but newly entered into the lists, so were he to be always in a readiness, to give forth himself, as a glad spectacle to the divine Majesty, Men, and Angels. And now since mention i●… made of Elias, I will not spare to add, how the blessed S. Antony according to the light he had in raising up his thoughts, from time to time, was purposed at last, with singular study to express in himself, the life and manners of that lover, not of Prophecy so much, as of retiredness, and solitude.   

S. Antony betakes himself into a Cell in the Desert; and is therefore maligned by the wicked Spirits. Chap. 3.  
NOr far of from S. Antony's Cottage, were many ancient ruins, not inhabited by any. In one of which causing himself to be shut up, by a certain friend of his, with order taken with him, to bring him bread within such a space; he here would treat with none other, than himself, and God alone. For which the Prince of darkness, being now anew inflamed with rage, and fearing if he put not remedy to it in time, he should soon behold (to his irreparable loss) the desert likewise filled with Monasteries & Monks: sending presently to the Cell of S. Antony, a great number of cruel Ministers, caused him (through divine dispensation) to be so sharply scourged & whipped, as he was left on the ground, devoid of speech or breath: and he himself likewise related afterwards, that the smart of those strokes exceeded any tormen, which were humanly supportable.  
While then he lay along stretched forth in this man nor; behold through divine providence) his coadiutour came now to him with ●…is wont provision. Who opening the door, and finding the ●…oore S. Antony in so ill a plight; took him up for dead on his shoul●…ers, & with much compassion carried him so to the Parish Church. here now, who were able to explicate the concourse of friends, Parents, and Neighbours, who came suddenly to behold him, to, ●…ewayle him, and to prepare his obsequys? Some lamented the ●…red of so heroical actions should so beyond all opinion be cut off. Others very bitterly deplored the loss of such a Father and Master, ●…nd perhaps there wanted not those (such is the nature of men) that ●…r lack of consideration, would seem to re●…rehend him of immo●…rate fervour, & foolish temerity. The Evening being passed with ●…ch discourses, while they stood about the Corpse with many lights ●…fficiously, expecting the Exequyes; by little and little (as it hap●…ens) they fell a sleep. And now it was about midnight, when S. ●…ntony being returned to himself, & opening his eyes, was aware, ●…at all the Standards by were oppressed with a profound sleep, ex●…epting his familiar friend, who through his much solicitude and ●…harity, was continually in suspense, and vigilant. Which Antony●…rceiuing ●…rceiuing, conjured him so much, partly with signs, and partly with a low voice, as in fine he obtained, without any noise to be ●…onueighed back into his cell again. Where being not able, through ●…e many soars he had, either to kneel, or to stand on his feet, ●…e was fain first, as he lay, to make his prayer a pretty while, & af●…er that with a greater courage than ever, began he with a loud tone ●…o defy the infernal squadrons, saying.  
Behold me Antony, here I am, I fly not your shirmishes, how ●…ierce soever they be, nor shall ever any thing in the world be able to ●…euer me from Christ; and presently gave himself to singing of Psalms, saying: Si consistant adversumme castr●…, now time bit cor●…; whē●…s the Author of Pri●… converting himself to his cursed Crew, See you (saith he) this untamed beast, how after so many punishments, ●…nd bitter woes, he days yet to provoke us thus? Take up your arms fresh, and assail him now more sharply than ever; that he may ●…nce come to learn, whom he hath to deal with Lucifer had yet ●…ow scarcely finished his commands, when the foundation being ●…aken with a horrible Earthquake, and the four sides of the poor Cell laid open. There entered in a moment by those chinks a h●… multidue of unclean spirits, in sundry and dreadful figures of Lions, Bulls, Leopards, Bears, Wolves, Asps, Scorpions, a●… Serpents, beating the air, and bestirring themselves, each one, according to its proper form, and nature. The greedy Lion roared, ready to devour: The Bull lowed, threatening with his cruel horns: The Dragon hissed, with the neck stretched forth, and 〈◊〉 pestilent breath: The ravenous Wolf fell a howling, with open mouth, and sharp teeth: and all the savage beasts, in fine, with eye●… inflamed, and open jaws, fell a brissling themselves, being each o●… power, if not hindered from above, to tear S. Antony into a thousand pieces. But as they had no power upon the life of the Saint: so on the person, as far as they had leave, they strive now again, to work him what damage and outrage they could.  
At which very time the invincible Champion, though otherwise groaning amidst all those terrible blows, yet failing not ●…whit of his courage, reproachfully rebuked the malignant spirits, saying: If there were any force in you, some one of you alone, were enough (I trow) for so light a conflict, but because God ha●… taken away your forces from you, therefore you do go thus abo●… to affright me with multitudes, and with strange figures of beasts▪ being surely an evident token of your misery. And manfully infe●…red moreover: If you have any power in you; If God hath giu●… you any authority over me, am I not now here in your hand●… Then do you swallow me up. & glut your appetites upon me: b●… if you have no such licence, why trouble you yourselves in vayn●… See you not, how the sign of the holy cross, & the Faith in Go●… serves christians, as impregnable walls.  
At these words, the wicked fiends, encompassed him round, & even fretted, and gnashed their teeth at him: When the Servant of God, in lifting up his eyes, beheld incontinent, the roof to open itself, and the air to appear with a celestial ray; whereupon th●… room was illuminated at once, the Enemies vanished, the payn●… ceased, and the building shaken and disjointed before, came suddenly now to be united again, & reduced to the former estate. And from thence in a moment, S. Antony was informed of the presen●… of God, and sending forth a deep sigh, to the vision-wards, exclaimed. Where wast thou, O good Iesu●…, where wast thou? Why w●… thou not here from the first beginning to remedy my wounds? 〈◊〉 answer whereof, was heard this voice: Antony, I was here in presece with thee, but stood expecting thee. And since thou hast showed thyself to be thus stout, & daunted not awhit, I will always succour thee, and shall make thy name famous through the world. With this Visitation S. Antony rose up from the ground, with a great deal more vigour, then before he ever received. And was even just at that tithe; of the age of 35. years.   

S. Antony retires himself into more inhabitable places. He meets with the illusions of the Devils: and shuts himself up. Chap. 4.  
SAint Antony being now by this time inflamed to greater erterprises, determines to penetrate further into the more inhabitable places, and most remote from humane society: 〈◊〉 yet thought it not meet to conceal this determination of his, from his first and dearest Master, but rather communicating with him his whole design, invited him also to be partaker with him of so illustrious a conquest. But he excusing himself, through his oldage, with other difficultyes beside, S. Antony doth put himself alone on the way: And while he having confidence in God, goes forward, very suddenly he beheld a great silver Bason on the ground. At which sight, making a stop, and glancing his eyes, observing the apparition, did presently perceive the subtlety of him, that had forged the same, and began to discourse with himself. Whence might this silver vessel seem to come hither? The place is quite out of the way, here are no steps of any passengers, and when peradventure one should lose it, yet such is the greatness thereof, as suddenly he must needs be aware thereof, or at least would he afterwards have turned back at leisure to seek it out: so as this is thy trick, O Satha, nor think thou thus to hinder my intention hereby. Go thy ways then with thy mettle with a mischief.  
This said, the Plate immediately vanished like smoke, when S. Antony pursuing his journey, but a little way off discovered a very great wedge of gold on the ground, and that not counterfeit and fantastical, as the silver was: yet could not be discerned, whether it were by diabolical operation, or else (for the greater proof of the Servant of God) by some heavenly power, there put in that fort. But this is well known the gold was not imaginary, but true & perfect. At the quantity and brightness whereof, while S. Antony wondered, to the end so betwitching an object, might not penetrate th●… mind, starting away from it, as it were from fire; he passed on his way, with his eyes shut, & flying through the plains, never made stop, till he had quite lost the sight of the place. When taking some breath, & renewing his holy purposes again, he arrived at a Mountain, where was a Castle half ruined, and inhabited with serp●… and hurtful beasts, instead of men. Which at the appearing of the Saint, as if they had been chased, went headlong away in all post; & he damning up the gate, with stone & timber, remained within, with provision of bread for six months: having left order with his friends, that twice a year (for which space and more some Egyptians knew, & especially the Thebans, how to bake break, & make it last) should supply be made him, from time to time: with which sustenance, and with a little water only to be had in the same place, continued he his admirable sobriety, and singular abstinence.  
There came many to visit him, while he himself not withstanding being shut up, saw them not, nor would suffer himself to be seen of any: and the bread I spoke of, was let down to him by certain holes in the roof. In the mean while, his friends, attending with great desire at the door, and passing that way many times by day and night, might hear from time to time, a very great noise within the room, with railings and outcries, which said to him: Get you hence, out of our house. What have you here to do, in this desert? You shall never be able to endure our persecutions. The friends of S. Antony now hearing such quarrels, and menaces, without, did verily believe some ill disposed persons, and enemies of the Saint, had been gotten in with a ladder, from the top: but afterwards, looking in very curiously through a chincke, they caused some to get upon the roof, and by diligent search they could finally discern no such matter: It was presently known, that those horrible clamours, proceeded from none, but infernal spirits. Whereupon, the poor people, being now affrighted, began suddenly to call upon S. Antony by name, & to crave his succour: Wh●… regarding the good of these, more than the menaces of those, approaching to the door, exhorted them with fair speeches to retire from thence, and not to fear, since the Devil is commonly wont (if you be fearful) to increase your vain and needles fears. Go home then on God's name, and do you make the sign of the holy Crosse. Go your ways, home, I say, in the name of the Highest, & leau●… them here in fine to be illude themselves.  
With this congee, the visible friends give back, and departed thence, and he alone remained behind to stand in contest with the invisible Enemies: although from henceforth in all bicker, he had not much to do with them, partly in regard, that they, through so many losses, became continually more weary & feeble: partly also, because he felt himself every day more courageous and stout, being very often comforted with divine Visitations, and with often triumphs over his now vanquished Enemies. In the mean time, new troops of people, ceased not to resort from Cities and Villages to S. Antony's Cell: Who making account to have found him already dead, beyond all hope, did hear him sing. Exurgat Deus, & dissipentur inimici eius, & fugiant qui oderunt eum, à faci●… eius: sicut deficit fumus deficiant, sicut fluit cera à facie eius, sic pereant peccatores a fancy Dei. And like wise: Omnes gentes circumdederunt me, & in nomine Domini, quia ultus sum in eos. With such and other like darts, the valorous Champion, transfixed so the rebels of Christ, as in all the encounters, they had ever the worst.   

S. Antony remains reclused. His fame spreads through all parts: whereby many come to renounce the world. Chap. 5.  
IN this manner of enclosure, the servant of God, remained for 20. years continually, without once seeing to issue forth, or ever being seen of any person. Whereupon, the fame of S. Antony was so spread, and was in so great credit, of more than humane virtue; as day by day, there assembled about him a greater concourse of diverse Nations, and conditions of persons, than ever. Some came with desire to be instructed, and trained up by him: & others to be delivered from the Devil, and from sundry infirmities. Others in fine desired, to behold such an Hermit as he, with their proper eyes, and so rare and lively example of perfection, and to speak in a word, such an Angel on earth. Who, by how much more through humility retired, so much greater thirst was excited in men of his conversation. And in brief, the matter went so far, as they being able no longer to endure the expectation, pulling a way the obstacles by violency, and breaking upon him with boldness and reverence alike; they entreated him so much, as he was able to resist no longer, but forth with he came out of a Sanctuary, where he had been, as it were, anointed with the divine hands, consecrated and promoted for the government of souls. And it may well be conceived the while, what a plenitude of graet, he received from Heaven; since loc, the very same redounding like wise to the body, after so many years of penance, so great fastings, and such meditations, combats, and vigils, appeared to be of so good a complexion, as if in all that time, he had attended to his health, and had entertained himself in pleasant pastimes.  
With this was matched such a manner of composition, modesty, and gravity, as well beseemed a foster-child of the supreme wisdom, and Citizen of the supernal country. In such wise, as to have met him, after so long a retirement in so great a multitude of men, applying themselves to him, and even profuse in his praises & renown, yet should you not have seen any sign of perturbation in him, or of vain conten●…mēt, but was always found with Reason in the Stern most firm, constant, and equal. He had so 〈◊〉 refull & serene a countenance, as all men that looked upon him, were comforted therewith. But what shall we say of the other Gifts of the holy Ghost? The dispossessed of evil Spirits may suffice to win belief: the infirm also whom he hath restored: And the many beside afflicted and disconsolate, through diverse occasions, which with sweet & efficacious words he hath recomforted. How many emnityes, and how many strifes hath he reduced to peace and concord? He would exhort all with great vehemency of spirit, nory●… less with the weight of reason, and examples, by no means to prefer any worldly thing, before the love of our Lord jesus. And he would also discourse of the future goods, and of the excessive charity of God towards miserable mortals: since for their Redemption and Salvation he would not seem to pardon his own most well-beloved Son, but rather in satisfaction of our debts, deliver him over to so cruel and bitter a death. With which discourses and ad●…nishments, S. Antony went moving the people in such fort, as many conceiving a like desire of the Eternity, and contempt of the world, determined themselves likewise to be sequestered from the vulgar, & to give themselves to a solitary life.  
From hence so many Monasteryes took their beginnings, where with in a very short time, were all those craggy mountains and champions of Egypt filled. And he, so long as he lived, had the superintendency and solicitous care over them all▪ receiving with singular affect of charity, such as for diverse occurences of good go●…rnement, would be making their repair undo him, and he himself also would no less be visiting them in person, when time re●…ired, without sparing any labour, or respect of manifest perils, ha●…ing always the heavenly custody with him, which miraculously ●…efended him from all disasters.  
As it happened once among other times, in his visit of the coū●…y of Arsinoe; whither travailing with some of his, and being to ●…ade over a branch of the river of 〈◊〉 full of Crocadills, & most ●…uell Enemies & Devours of men, having made his prayer a little, ●…tred into the water, and passed quite through it, both going and ●…omming, without any manner of hurt at all of himself or his Conanions. Being now returned to his Cell, he gave himself to his ●…onted labours and exercises, as before: and above all to his pastoral care, by inducing always the Monks to greater perfection, with words and deeds, full of wholesome incite ments, and holy doctrine. Nor was it hard for him to assemble an Auditory, so great was the ●…unger which every one had of his words, and so singular the grace 〈◊〉 his discourse, vouchafed him by our Lord, But especially, one day, ●…ere being 〈◊〉 together a very great ●…course of people, to hear ●…im, the venerable Abbot with accustomed modesty, & candour of ●…ynd, in the Egyptian tongue, began to deliver himself, as it followeth in the next chapter.   

The Exhortation of S. Antony to the Monks, and people of the Disart Chap. 6.  
ALthough the divine Scriptures (my Children, and most beloved Brethren) are sufficient of themselves for the instruction, and erudition of men: Yet is it a thing notwithstanding very reasonable, and just, that even Men no less knowing themselves, with mutual incitements, excite one another to the execution of that, which they have well understood; and with partaking each one with the rest, the inspirations and lights he obteynes of God, they may all come to be every day more wife, and expert in his holy ser●…ce. Wherefore you, my children, whensoever you shall have any good conceit, to propose, unto others, & to me your Father; omit ●…not, and I also as more ancient in years and most ready for the glory of God, will participate with you, in a much of that kind, as I have hitherto any ways, either by document of others, or of my own experience, been able to comprehend.  
The first then, and principal advertisement for all, is 〈◊〉 that each one of us, endeavour two things. The one, not to dimin●… a whit of our labour or industry, reputing ourselves, to have do●… enough. The other, not to lose courage, while the affair seem too prolix and tedious to us; but rather, we are to make accompe that every day is the first beginning, and to be always a conserving and increasing our holy purposes. Because, that as the whole age of a man, is very short, in comparison of what succeeds: so is all the created time, as nothing, being paraleled with Eternity. And truly in this life, things are ordinarily bought at a just price, & in human traffics is account made of so much, for just so much: but in 〈◊〉 case it is not so: while the Eternal Crown seems to stand us 〈◊〉 deed, but in a very little.  
We read in the Psalms: Dies annorum nostrorum in ipsis, septuag●… anni: Si autem in potentatibus, octoginta, & amplius eorum labour & 〈◊〉. Whence put the case, we do spend the same whole space of eighty, or a hundred years, in the divine service, think you the rew●… thereof to be equal? The travail exceeds not an age, the guerdon endures forever; the toils are on earth, the recompense in heaven; the body comes to be rotten and consumed, but recovers a glorious, and uncorruptible one. So as my Children, let us not go folding o●… arms; Let us not think it to be over long; or that we have done already any great matter, since according to the Apostle: The T●…lations of the present life, have not any proportion with the glory, which is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 manifest in us. Nor, casting our Eyes to the world, believe, that we have forsaken any great matter. For as much as the whole round●… of the Earth, is but a point, in respect of the universal fabric of the world: and yet supposing we were Lords of as much as the S●… warms, and should have quite renounced such a Monarchy, for the Love of Christ; yet for all that would it be nothing at all, if we regard but the Realm of the Heavens, which is proposed to us. And who is he, that would not willingly seem to cast away a dram of iron, to have for the same a hundred of gold? Even so a Man, that should abandon for God, all these earthly Signoryes, should afford very little, and receive a hundred for one.  
Now, if all the Earth at once, may not seem to contest with the worth of Paradise; it is clear, that for one to deprive himself of arms, or houses, or sums of money, he should not yet seem take either any vain glory, or foolish sadness for the same: es●…ially considering, that though we despoil not ourselves of ●…se things for the love of Christ, yet of force are we very soon to ●…go them, when we come to dye; and to leave them very often, 〈◊〉 such, as we think least of, as Ecclesiastes well notes. Why then 〈◊〉 we not make a virtue of necessity? Wherefore exchange we not, ●…sitory patrimony, for an incorruptible inheritance? And if it ●…olly, to be tenacious of that which we possess, much less be●…g once disentangled from the same, should we be turning our ●…ought again upon such a purchase? but always aspire to the ga●…ing of such things, as follow us after the departure of the Soul ●…m the body: such as are the merits of Prudence, Temperance, lu●…ce, Wisdom, Fortitude, Humanity, Liberality, Faith in Christ, ●…eekenes, Hospitality, and other such like merchandise: where●… if we make us provision in time, being once recalled from this ●…nishment, we shall find them to have gone before us, as Har●…ngers, to prepare us a Mansion, in the City of the Blessed.  
These things, being well considered, should surely shake off, ●…om the mind all negligence, and weak pufillanimity: but when ●…ey suffice not, at least we ought to be moved, with the strictness of ●…ligation we have to God. He truly is our law●…full Lord, and we ●…s natural vassals and slaves. Now then, as a slave dares ne●…r to matter thus much, and say, I have laboured yesterday in ough, ●…o day therefore I will do nothing: No, but day by day (as the ●…ospell saith) still show forth the selfsame promptness, which he ●…d before, presuming not at all upon his passed toils, nor think ●…ereby to be idle, either now, nor hereafter; to the end, he ●…ight concern himself in grace, with his Master, and not to be ●…ust out of his service: so likewise should we, every day be encou●…ging each other to Religious Discipline, assuring ourselves, that 〈◊〉 we cease from working one day only, we shall not obtain re●…ission, in virtue of any former services done, but shall be punished ●…ther for this days demerits. For so said the Prophet Ezechiel; That ●…ter death, every one shall beiudged, according to the state, he shall then be ●…nd in. And judas also for his ill carriage (if I might so say) of one ●…ght only, did lose the fruit of all his years for passed.  
So as, attend we, my children, to the true Observation of our Ru●…s, and not suffer ourselves to be vanquished with tediousness, as knowing, that according to the Apostle, Our Lord is not backward whit to cooperate with him that hath a good will, and endeavours to help 〈◊〉 self. It shall likewse avay le us not a little, to chase away Sloth carry always, in the memory, that saying of the Apostle himse●… Quotidie morior. And if we likewise would be always thin●… with ourselves, that this present day were to be our last, & a wak●… in the morning we would but suppose not to arrive to the Eueni●… and again being laid down at night, not promise to our se●… to live till morning: If we would regard, how uncertain the●… is, and how the divine Providence, seems to measure, and num●… our steps, & how it hath continually the Eyes upon us; we sho●… certainly not sin, nor sufferre ourselves to be carried aw●… with unbridled desires, nor should we be angry with our Nei●…bour, nor give ourselves to lay up treasure in earth: but we she●… hubly yield to others, in all, & through out, & should abhor all 〈◊〉 sual pleasures, as a lewd and transitory thing, remaining alway●… with our wits about us, & with the Eyes turned towards the T●… bunall, where we are all to be judged. And after this manner s●… the fear of everlasting torments, be of more power to extingui●… then the delicateness of the flesh to inflame the desires of the 〈◊〉 man. And with such a Stay shall the Soul sustain itself, th●… inclining already to a miserable precipice.   

S. Antony proceeds yet in his Exhortation: And gives them other 〈◊〉 sides. Chap. 7.  
NOw, therefore, beginning a new, as if to day we but en●… into the way of Perfection; let us enforce ourselves, to ar●… to the End; and let no man turn his face to look back, as di●… wife of Lot especially our Lord having said so expressly, Th●… soever having once set his band to the plough, should turn his face to heed 〈◊〉 remains behind, were not apt for the heavenly kingdom, And this; 〈◊〉 back, is nothing else, then for a man to repent himself of his go●… beginning, & to return yet again to worldly thoughts & acti●… But some peradventure may be affrighted with the name of ve●… Go to then, yet let it not seem strange or impossible, since ●…ey 〈◊〉 is it far from us, or extrinsecall to us, but rather within us and 〈◊〉 matter is easy to him, that truly disposeth himself to seek it 〈◊〉 Let the Grecians, and other profane Lovers of themselves, go th●… ways to seek it out, in foreign Provinces: let them plough the ●…as, cross mountains, run over the plains & countries: For ●…s, there is no need to make any voyages for it, by sea or land, since ●…at, as the Prime Verity affirms, The Kingdom of Heaven is with in us. ●…n so much as to obtain the same (supposing the divine Grace, as ●…nclined to all) on our parts there requires no more, than a mere effi●…acious will. For so much as look when the superior part of the ●…oule, should be reduced to its natural state, it would come to ●…aue in itself a solid and formal virtue indeed: since the natural ●…ate seems to be nothing else but the great rectitude, & much good●…es, wherein it was framed by the sovereign Creator.  
And hence it was, that the captain jesus Nave said to the He●…rew people: Direct your hart to the Lord of Israel: And S. john Baptist; ●…o you rectify your ways. Because it is proper to the nature of a Soul, ●…o have no wrinesse or crookedness in it. But when it goes bending to ●…his or that side, then looseth it the natural rectitude, & that ben●…ing so, is worthily termed malice. From whence may appear, ●…hat the enterprise is not so bad, as it seems. For that if we, with ●…he help of our Lord, but conserve ourselves, such as we were fra●…ed by him; we may come without more a do, to possess Virtue: ●…ut if through election, we adhere to the evil, we do voluntarily ●…ecome wicked. If then the matter be not to be sought for elsewhere, but only consists in ourselves, let us beware of unclean cogitations; and since from God we have received our soul, as in ●…posito, let us so deal that in his time, he may acknowledge his own workmanship in us, and find the soul to be such, as himself had ●…ormed at first.  
Let us fight manfully, that we be not tirannized by wrath, nor yet overswayed with concupiscence: While it is written, The anger of ●…a man, works not the justice of God: and concupiscence after its conception, doth bring forth sin: and sin being put in effect be●…gets death. Let us then be circumspect, in the government of ourselves, and stand we always upon our ward: and as the sacred Scripture adviseth us, let us guard our hart withal the warynes that may be; because, though our enemies on the one side, be enfeebled, and dejected, notwithstanding on the other, are they very sagacious, great dissemblers, and most subtle withal; and as the holy Apostle well notes: Non est nobis colluctatio adversus carmen, & sanguinem, sed adversus principatus, potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in caelestibus. Great is their number, in this lower region of the air, nor are they in truth far off from us: They are likewise very different from each other, in nature, and species; of which differences surely might a long discourse be had, but being a matter so little necessary to our present purpose, & worthy of a more sublime understanding, then mine is; It shall suffice me for this time, to touch that only which more imports us; to wit, the frauds, and stratagems, which those malign substances do work, to the offence, and damage of our souls.  
The blessed S. Antony, being come to this passage, made a pause for a while: and then began more at large, to discover diverse arts and subtleties of Satan, for that time as yet very new, and unknown; at this day notwithstanding by the observation of so many ages, God be thanked, now very common, and vulgar. And then began he afresh, to declare a certain remedy against them, which was a vigilant, and continual memory of God, conjoined with spiritual gladness, with the firm confidence of the fatherly Providence, and with the care which our Lord, taketh of his Seruā●…s In which state so long as the Christian stands, and the Religious also, he hath no need to fear any thing. Since as the Devils, withal their fury, and rage, when he stands in his own defence, cannot endamage him, with force; so are they not wont to assault him, with open war, but with ambushes, and snares: wherein yet lying in wait, if they note the City of the soul, to be neglected, ill provided, and unquiet; then rushing in on a sudden, they will enkindle seditions, multiply breaches and put all in confusion and disorder. And this in sum said the blessed Antony, for as much as concerns temptations, and invisible trains.  
But for apparitions, and visions, to be able well, and securely to distinguish them; he counsay led the Monks, in such a case, not to be dismayed a whit, nor to show any sign of fear at all: but be the Spectacle what it will, courageously to speak unto it, and demand, who art thou, and from whence com'st thou? For that if it be good it will suddenly clear thee in that point, through divine power, and will replenish thee together with true gladness: If naught, it shall lose its forces in a moment, in beholding the mind so stout, and constant; since to demand in that manner, is a manifest sign of assuredness, & tranquillity. In this manner we may see jesus Na●…e to be cleared by the Angel of light; and others not to be deceived with that of darkness.   

The Exhortation ended; a certain Problem is handled among the Fathers of the Desert: wherein every one passeth his verdict. Chap. 8.  
While the holy Abbot spoke in this sort, it canont be expressed, what comfort and consolation the Auditory felt; so as the tepid, were inflamed with the love of virtue, the pusillanimous seemed to pretend now great hope. And some on the contrary, being full of vain persuasion before, came now to be humble, and to think more modestly of themselves; and finally all remained astonished at the discretion of spirits, wherewith our Lord had seemed to endue S. Antony. Of which so precious a gift, since we are now fallen upon it; we cannot so slightly pass over in silence that so famous a discourse, that to this purpose john Cassian declares, with the Moral thereupon; which was, that some of those ancient Fathers, on a time, being come to the blessed S. Antony, in Thebais, to confer with him, about spiritual matters; the conference itself grew so hot between them as it lasted from the beginning of ●…he night, to the next day morning.  
The Problem was this. What virtue, or what observance, might seem more effications, and more secure, to preserve a Monk always assured from diabolical snares, and deceits, and to lead him by the stricter way, and with greater freedom to the top of Perfection? Concerning which doubt, each one, according to his capacity, produced what he thought best. Some there were, who placed all in fastings, and vigils, affirming for proof thereof, that the soul, being extenuated thereby, and made pure of hart, & body, comes more easily to be united with God. Others extolled entire poverty, and the total contempt of worldly things; in regard the mind, being ●…aked, & quite stripped of all those things, without doubt, being now ●…light, and discharged of all, may suddenly mount to the heavenly delights. By some others, was given the palm to the love of solitude, and the deserts for being the true, and only way to become familiar with God, and to be always united with his infinite Goodness. Nor were they wanting, who preferred the works of mercy, and faternall charity, before all other Exercises whatsoever: alleging that especially to these is the kingdom of heaven promised in the Gospel. Thus every one, having now unfolded his mind, and more spaciously enlarged himself, in proof of his proper assertion the greater part of the night, as we said, being spent already, di●… the blessed S. Antony, began to speak in the manner following.  
It cannot be denied, my Reverend Fathers, but that the same propositions by you made, are of singular avail, for him that hat●… the love of God in him, & hath a longing desire to come unto him Nevertheless to place a principal foundation thereon, in numerabl●… proofs and several events, occurring to diverse persons, will not a●… ford me to do it. For as much as I have seen heretofore some me●… being given to wondrous abstinence from meat, and sleep, incredibly retired from all human society, so addicted to Poverty, a●… they would not reserve a penny to themselves, or a loaf of brea●… for the time to come, being wholly employed with exceeding d●… votion, and with singular fervour in hospitality, and in the comfo●… and succour of Neighbours; to fall at last into such errors & illu●… on's, as their issue proved nothing answerable to their genero●… beginnings, and magnanimous erterprises. So as we may clearly discern, which way is the better, to arrive to God by. If wi●… diligence we seek, and search into the occasion of the ruin, and perdition of those unhappy ones, who most certain it is, had bee●… gathering together, along time a notable treasure of good, and holy works; what then was it, that made them not persevere vn●… Death? Surely the only lack of Discretion, they having not sufficiently learned of their Masters, the rules and conditions of this Virtue, which shunning either extremes, continually maintains 〈◊〉 upon the high way, and lets us be carried away with the rig●… hand of spiritual consolations, to superfluous & unmeasurable seruours; nor yet with the left of temptations and aridities, under c●… lour of care of the body, to fall into sloth, and sensuality.  
This Discretion is that, which by the Lord and Saviour of m●… kind, is called the Eye, and Lamp of our body. Which eye being simple, the whole body shall be replenished with light: but when the Eye is too blame and naught, all the body shall be as full o●… darkness: the reason is, for that to this faculty of the soul it belongs, to weigh, balance, and discern all the thoughts, and operations of man. Whence being corrupted, that is, not founded in true knowledge, or some error, it comes to obscure the whole body, in blinding the understanding and folding it up in the night of vices, and of disordinate passions: and immediately our Saviour himself ●…dds the cause thereof; For that if the light which is in thee, be darkness, ●…ow great then shall the darkness itself be? And in truth, who sees not, ●…hat when the judgement, through ignorance, remaining in the dark, goes doubtful and wavering; but needs must the thoughts ●…nd actions, depending thereon, come thence to be entrapped in a greater and thicker mist of sins? Of which truth, he doth give us ●…ufficient testimony, who by the eternal Majesty, being chosen the first King of Israel, for not having this eye of discretion sound, but ●…ll members ill affected with darkness, deserved to lose the Kingdom; while he thought to be more serviceable to God, in sacrificing to him, then obeying of Samuel; incurring thereby the divine ●…ffence in the self same thing, wherein he made full reckoning to gain his favour.  
The defect of this knowledge, after that glorious triumph, ●…erswaded Achab, that mercy and clemency were better than seuc●…ity, and the execution of that rigorous and cruel command, as it ●…eemed to him. Through which considering, being mollifyed, whilst ●…e would needs seem to be contemning with an act of piety, the ●…loudy victory, as he thought, through indiscreet compassion, be●…ng himself likewise obscured in his whole person, was without ●…emission condemned to death. This is that Discretion, which is not only called by the Apostle, a Lamp, but a Sun also, where he saith; ●…et not the sun seem to set upon your anger. This in like manner is called ●…he Government of our life, according to that saying: Such as have ●…o government with them, do fall like leaves. This is worthily termed Counsel, without the which to do any thing, is by the holy Scripture, so precisely forbidden us, as neither are we to take otherwise the spiritual wine itself, which is, that Gladness that cheers up the ●…hart of man, while Solomon saith; Do you every thing with Counsel; and with Counsel likewise do you drink your wine. And elsewhere; Who works without Counsel, is like to a City, which is dismantled quite, and destroyed: as showing with this similitude, how pernicious to the soul, is the lack of such a virtue. In this, knowledge, in this the understanding, and judgement consists, according to that advertisement, which saith; with wisdom is the house built, & with understanding repaired; with judgement is the Cellar replenished withal the best and most precious things. This I say, is that solid food, that cannot be taken, but of strong, & perfect men. Whence the Apostle saith: To the perfect belongs a solid food, who through long experience, let t●… senses be well exercised in the discretion of good and ill. What more? It is so profitable, and necessary, as it comes to be numbered among the other divine attributes, according to the sentence of the same S. pal: Quick and lively is the word of God, and very efficacious, and more penetrate far, than the sharpest knife, arriving to the division of the soul & spirit, ●…ea even to the joints & marrow, & is a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the hart. Out of which authorities, it is manifestly showed, that with out the grace of Discretion, it is impossible, either perfectly to purchase, or long to conserve any virtue whatsoever.  
This then in matter of Perfection, was the judgement, this the Doctrine of S. Antony. The which, being first by that sacred Session of Fathers, without reluctation approved, & after, with good reason, by Cassian, as we said, inserted into his Collations, hath also seemed good to us, for the public utility, to transfer into our present discourse.   

The multitude of Monks increaseth. The Angelical life of S. Antony: And of the persecution raised by Maximinian against the Church. Chap. 9  
IN the mean season, the number of Monks did marvelously increase, and throughout all those hills, could nothing else be seen but Cells and Monasteryes, like to Pavilions applied to a sacred warfare, full of Psalms, Conferences, Lessons, Prayers, Fasts, and vigils, accompanied partly with a iubiley of hart, through expectation of the future goods; partly also with the industry, and labour of the hands, to purchase alms for the poor. Who shall express then, the chaste dilection, and straight concord amongst the●… In such sort, as casting the eyes upon those countries, a Man verily seemed to behold, a Region as wholly dedicated to the worship & justice of God. here reigned not, either open, or hidden factions, not practices or designs of transitory, or terrene things, but only a multitude well ordered of men, all applied to the study of the more eminent virtues. So as one beholding them, & the Orders withal, might truly break forth, into that exclamation of Numbers the 23. chapter. Quam bona domus tuae jacob, tabernacula tua Israel, tamquam nemor●… obrumbrantia, tamquam Paradisus super flumina tamquam tabernacula, qua fix●… sunt à Domino, tamquam cedri Libani circa aquas.  
But yet in so universal a fervour, did the Lamp of S. Anteny always seem far to exceed, both in heat and splendour, the other lights: who never ceasing his angelical customs, did always ●…o his power keep silence, and augment his pennances: aspiring day and night to the happy mansions of Heaven. Whereupon, as ●…ikewise the imitation of the more glorious Saints, he had so fixed ●…is mind, that whensoever it was needful for him to eat or sleep, ●…r in any other manner to serve the body, he beheld the nobleness ●…f the Soul, so miserably abased with so vile an exercise. And thus ●…hrough compulsion, he would take his refection, now alone, & ●…ow with others, not omitting through occasion thereof, to remē●…er his disciples, how much it behoved them very seriously to at●…end to the soul, and to seek after the profit thereof, in spending as ●…tle time, as might be in the care of the body, that the spirit be not ●…ulled downwards by sensual delights, but the flesh to be reduced ●…ather into the servitude, and power of the spirit; and this said he, ●…as the sense of those words of the Gospel. Nolite soliciti esse animae ●…estrae, quid manducetis, neque corpori, quid induamini: haec enim omnia gen●…s inquirunt: Scit enim Pater vester, quod his omnibus indigetis: Querite au●…m regnum Dei, & haec omnia adijcientur vobis.  
At the same time, while S. Antony was instructing, and gui●…ing his Monks in this manner; was raised in Egypt, that cruel per●…cution of Maximinian, against the Church of God. At the news ●…hereof, the holy Abbot, being desirous to shed his blood for Christ, ●…ent his way in haste to Alexandria, accompanied with many, say●…g: let us be present by all means at the glorious combats of ●…e Champions of Christ: for that God will either make us wor●…y of that glorious Fellowship with them, or at least, if our Vo●…ation extend not so high, their faith and fortitude will afford ●…s a noble spectacle, and of much edification. In the mean time, ●…e puts himself in public to help and encourage them. First in ●…e mines, and in prisons, and afterwards much more, when they ●…rought them to the unjust Tribunal. And here is the manifest ●…rouidence of God to be noted, that as he had destined him to the ●…ouernment, and example of Religious, (and in truth many be●…g invited only with the example, aspect, and manners of the man ●…f God, renounced the world) so he never suffered the Tyrant to lay ●…ands upon him.  
True it is, that having once understood, he was in the City, ●…nd succoured the Christians, he made an Edict, that no Monk ●…ould approach to the prisons, and that all should depart from Alexandria. But yet the valorous Confessor, was not terrified with this, but rather on the day appointed for the wicked Execution, and at the public Act of Matrtyrdome, while the other Monks, were a hiding themselves, he alone, accompanied the combatants to the scaffold, exhorting them always to persevere invincible, and courageous. From hence, to the end to be more easily seen, or rather to draw the eyes of the Perfect himself upon him, being clothed with a garment, which was very conspicuous; he gets up on a place of advantage, somewhatneere unto the scaffold, and there stood confident to the very end of all; with a holy Emulation for the Crowns, which the faithful of Christ, seemed to purchase by their deaths: declaring thereby the promptness and fortitude, which in such occurences, they are to have, who are truly Christians. In so much, as the Perfect descending from the Tribunal, & with all his Guard, passing by S. Antony, remained astonished at the gravity and fortitude of the Saint. Who since he saw himself, not without grief, to b●… thus deceived of the hope, returned afresh to the prisons, and caves to serve, and comfort the Confessors of Christ, as he was wont; until such time, as the blessed Bishop Peter being martyred, the rage of the Persecutors, came finally to cease.  
Upon occasion whereof, S. Antony retiring to his Monastery, there gave himself to participate as well as he could, of the Palms of the Martyrs, with bitter austerityes, abstinence, and voluntary punishments: not wearing any other within, but Cilices, and skins without; and never washing his body, nor so much as his feet, but when he chanced on the way to wade over any water. And it is held most certain, that until his burial, he was never seen to be stripped, or naked.   

S. Antony dispossesseth one of the Devil: and hears a voice from hea●… which directs him what to do. Chap. 10.  
NOw S. Antony, being thus recollected, with purpose not to be seen of any, for a time; a certain Captain called Martinianus, with a daughter of his, very shrewdly tormented by the devil, and with a great troop of people, approached to the Celestina, & there stood knocking, and beseeching S. Antony with a loud voice, to come forth in public, and to pray to God for the Maiden. To which cries, having now stopped his ears for a pretty while, he came at last of mere compassion, to a little chink of the wall, and said. Hola, Who do you call for? I am yet mortal: If you believe in that Lord ●…home I serve, go your waye●…, and pray to him, and according to your faith, ●…hall the grace be done you. The Captain showed not himself to be any thing backward to such advices, but immediately converting himself from Paganism, began to invoke the name of Christ; and on a sudden, the daughter of that Captain was found to be safe and sound. After this, many other aswell Lunatic, as infirm persons, who could not come to have any audience of the Saint, lay prostrate at the door, and there recommended themselves, so long to his intercessions, as they came thence wholly cured.  
At which marvels, and at the concourse of new troops of people, was S. Antony sore molested: fearing in his mind, some motion of Pride, or at least, the world might come to frame too high a conceit of him. Making then, mature deliberation herupon, ●…he determined to leave that Cell, and to co●…ueigh himself secretly into the upper Thebais, in some part, where he might not be known of any living body.  
To this effect, being departed, with some loaves of bread, to the shore of Nilus, while he was sitting there, expecting commodity of passage, he heard a voice from Heaven, which with a clear tone pronounced these words: Antony, whither 〈◊〉 thou going? and wherefore? And he not being troubled thereat, as being already acquainted with such things, made answer: These people will not let my rest, whereupon I am resolved to pass into the upper Thebais, as well to eschew the said disturbances, as principally also for not to be requested in things which exceed my power. The voice adds: Although thou goest thy ways hence to Thebais, and endeavourest to hide thyself (as thy design is) among the shepherd's Cottages there: Yet know, thou shalt thence but purchase to thyself a double travail: Whereas if thou wilt find true rest indeed, thou must go into the hart of the Desert. And S. Antony replying: who shall show me the way thither to some place, to the purpose, since I myself was never there? when presently was showed him a squadron, or to say rather a company of Saracens, who coming to Egypt for traffic sake, were now in their return into Arabia, and were bound to travail just that way.  
Then S. Anthony approaching to them, entreated them fairly they would be pleased to take him along for a pretty way with them, and so they did, as if they had had commandment from God: and at the end of three days, and three nights, they arrived at a very high mountain, at the foot whereof, went gliding a fresh, and crystal water, and nor far from thence certain trees were to be seen of savage, and wild palms. At the discovery of such a sight S. Antony did exceedingly rejoice, and said within himself, that same was surely the seat appointed for him. So as taking his leave, with a thousand thanks, of the Saracens (who gave him moreover some of their bread) he remained there alone in the Mountain, & took it as his dear habitation, sustaining himself with wa●…, and the Dates thereby, and with the now supply, which the S●…cen passengers, from time to time, admiring so great a virtue, di●… afterwards afford him: Until such time, as the Monks at last, being come to the knowledge of the place, took upon them, the care to provide for him; howbeit the holy, man, perceiving by this 〈◊〉 casion, they were like to be troubled much, and forced to take a great deal of pains for his sake, was resolved to spare that labo●… & causing some plough-●…ons to be brought unto him, with a little seed corn, he began to till and sow a plot of ground, so as every year, he reaped sufficient to live on: being much comforted the while, that he was hereby no whit offensive or troublesome to any person of the world, being a thing, to his power, which he had ever avoided. But seeing afterwards, for all this, that Guests forbore not to resort thither, he sowed there moreover, some herbs, for to be able to give some manner of entertainment, to passengers, we aryed with so long and difficult a journey. And forasmuch as diverse savage beasts, being invited by the water there, came thither to drink, and did withal some hurt to his corn; he catching one of them, said very mildly to it, & the rest: Why do you wrong me so, that offend nor you? Go your ways, and come you hither no more, for our Lord's sake. A very admirable thing; they being terrified, as it were, with such a commandment, durst never more seem to return thither.   

S. Antony is much troubled with the assaults of the Devil: He hears of S. Paul the great Hermit, and goes to seek him out. Chap. 11.  
A Midst such labours of body & mind, the servant of God being now grown old, yet continued his wont discipline, and never left to afflict himself. Whereupon the Monks being moved to pity, did bring him Olives, with oil, and pulse, for these were de●…icacyes amongst them. But in that place so remote, it cannot be told what combats the blessed S. Antony continually sustained from Sa●…han. Such as went thither, for their devotion, were afterwards wont to relate, they had heard beside, great tumults, and noises ●…here, with many cries and clamours, and clashing of arms, and seen the mountain all covered over with sparkles of fire, and the Saint upon his knees, making his prayer, against the fury of the outrageous Enemies. And surely it was an admirable thing, that a solitary man, in so great a vastness of regions, should have no fear, neither of infernal spirits, nor of dragons, nor wild beasts: but truly, according to the Psalmist, confiding in our Lord, like to Mount Zion, had always his mind very peaceable, and quiet: so as the devils had occasion to fear him, and the beasts laying their poison and cruelty aside, became very meek and tractable to him.  
But yet Lucifer ceased not to tempt him again, and to seek always to work his annoyance, gnashing and grinding his teeth at him. And one night, among the rest while S. Antony was busy in prayer, he had leave to set against him as many hurtful beasts, as were to be found in those desert cliffs; who as forced to come forth of their dens, were set on to encompass the Servant of Christ, making a proffer (as others heretofore) to swallow and devout him quite: but the understanding the subtlety of the Adversary, told them, That if they had power from heaven, they might devour him, but if otherwise they came as sent by the devil, without delay they should go their ways, for he was the servant of Christ. With which protestations, the brutish troops, being affrighted & scourged, did suddenly fly away.  
From thence within few days, while he was making baskets, as he was wont, to bestow on them that dealt very charitably with him; he perceived one of the wickers of his work to be drawn to the doore-wards, and raising up himself, sees a monster, from the head to the hips, which appeared like a man, & from the hips down wards, was like an Ass. And yet was S. Antony not astonished a whit at so new, and strange a spectacle; but rather making the sign of the Cross on himself, defied it boldly, as he was wont: whereupon the beast being scared, together with the spirits that guided it, so imperuously ran from thence as falling down headlong, it died, representing in that fall the unhappy adventure of such as would go about to drive away S. Antony from the Desert.  
Now after so many toils of body and mind, the Servant of God was become Ninety years of age, & could no more without manifest danger, endure austerites as before. Whereupon, with a pious violence, the Monks enforced him to accept of two of them, to boar him company, and to have care of him. The one called Amtli●…, and the other Macarius. About which time, the glorious doctor S. jerom declares, how S. Antony bethinking himself, that hitherto never had any Monk gone further into the desert than he, it was revealed to him, on the night following, that he was deceived, since there was another yet, more ancient and perfect than he that likewise inhabited therein, and that by all means, he should go to seek him. S. Antony was nothing flack to obey. For scarce had the Aurora put forth, when without any other companion, than a little staff, he puts himself into the voyage: and now was it about high Noon, and the parching rays of the sun began to scorch the head of the holy Old man, and yet nevertheless, would he not seem to desist from going forwards, saying within himself: I have a firm confidence in God, that he will show me him he hath promised me to see. And standing to muse thereupon, behold a Hippo-centaur appears before him, to wit, half a man, and half a horse. At which sight, arming himself with the wholesome sign, on his forehead: Hola, said he, where about I pray you, inhabits a certain man of God? To which demand, the beast, with a confused voice, made offer to answer, and withal stretching form the right hand, seemed to point him the way, and flying vanished, nor could it ever be known, whether the same were a feigned apparition, or some real thing.  
With such direction, did S. Antony follow on his way, deeply considering with himself on that strange figure, which he beheld a little before. He had not passed far, thus musing with himself, but there appeared to him, in a craggy valley, a man of a little stature, with a hawked nose, and horned countenance, who with a grateful aspect, approaching to him, did offer him Dates, in sign of peace. Whereat S. Antony stood still, and laying hand on his wont arms, doubted not to ask him, who he was, and he answered so plainly as S. Antony was much astonished thereat. I am likewise mortal, said he, as you are, and one of the Inhabitants of the wilderness, adored by the blind Gentility, under the name of Fanus, Satyrs, and Incubi. I come to thee now, as an Ambassador of my Companions, beseeching thee in the name of all, to make intercession for us likewise, to the common God, for we have now understood he is come, for the salvation of the world. At which words, the holy Abbot began too sheed tears for joy, in beholding how the glory of Christ was dilated, and the power of Satan annihilated, and smiting the ground with his staff, adds: Woe be to thee Alexandria who gives the honour due to God, unto Monsters & Portents: Woe be to thee meretricious City, where have all the superstitions of the world, built their nest now, wilt thou say? The beasts do seem to confess Christ, and yet do you nevertheless, stand adoring of Idols.  
S. Antony had not yet ended these words, when the satire as betaking himself to his wings in a moment, was quite vanished away. And to the end, that not any may hold it for a fabulous thing, it is to be understood, that a like Monster to this, was brought alive to Alexandria, where after it had been well seen, and reviewed, by all the people, it came to dye. Whereupon being opened, and powdered with salt, it was lastly conveyed to Antioch, to satisfy the eyes also, of that City there, and of the Emperor himself.   

S. Antony travailing on his way, espies a wolf coming forth of a Cave; where entering in, he finds S. Paul the Theban retired. Chap. 12.  
TO return to S. Antony, the good old man went on his way, and not discovering ought else, than the tract of beasts, and infinite wastes of sand withal, there remained now no other sustenance to him, than a firm confidence of the Protection of Christ. By this time, two days were spent, and the night following, the servant of God did consume in prayer; when in the dawning of the day, he discovers a far off, a thirsty she-wolfe, which panting and seeking for water, approached to the foot of the Hill. The wary travailer look after her, and as soon as she was departed from the den, he likewise coming thither, began to look in, though in vain, because so great was the darkness there, as he could not discern any thing. It was truly a horrible and dreadful thing to behold, but Charity banished fear; he taking courage to himself, and going very softly and tenderly in, as he could, at last amidst those obscurities going forwards not far off, there appeared a light wherewith being invited, while greedily he makes haste thereunto, he stumbles on a stone, and with the noise thereof, gave occasion to him, that was within, on a sudden to shut & make fast the door upon himself.  
The cave lay open on the one side thereof, but well shadowed the while with a plan-tree, very great and full of leaves, and in the same plain arose a most clear spring, from whence a little brook streaming along for a little space, went creeping under the ground. The same place in times past, had been the receptacle of those wicked Forgers, who in the time of Cleopatra, and Mark-Antony, in that place, had been coining of false money; as do well testify the many anuils, & hammers there scattered up & down in those taverns. And lastly for avoiding the persecution of Decius, & Valerianus, and to lead a holy life, was the blessed Paul the Theban there shrouded from his youth, and had there persevered with incredible constancy to the age of 113. years. Now S. Antony perceiving himself to be shut forth, in this manner, with exceeding great grief lying prostrate at the door, remained there until the sixth hou●…e, & upwards, continually entreating to be admitted, & saying: You know well enough, who I am, and whence I come, and though unworthy (I confess) of your sight, yet without such a grace, I will not depart hence. Whereas you that afford harbour to beasts, why banish you a Man? who according to the Gospel, having sought and found already, doth now knock to be let in. Which if I attain not, I shall dye here in the very Entry, and when that happens you shall be constrained to bury me. Which will be to troublesome to you.  
The Pilgrim having thus continued a pretty while, in this manner of entreaty, at last S. Paul smiling within himself, made answer: This same is a pretty custom indeed, to beseech in braving thus, to charge so, and calumniate with tears? And is it so strange to you, that I receive you not, if you seem to come hither to leave your life? In this manner of jesting, did S. Paul open the door, & the strangers, howbeyt new, and as yet unacquanted, very lovingly embracing each other, did salute notwithstanding one another by name, giving infinite thanks to the divine Goodness. And after the holy kiss of peace, being both set down. S. Paul began to speak in this manner: You see here, Antony, him, whom you have sought for thus, with so much travail, rude, worn, frail, & decrepit, & one in brief, who within a very little shall become dust. But in the mean while, for Charity sake, tell me, what is done in the world? Who rules? Go they about to reedify the cities again, already destroyed? And is the Devil yet worshipped there, as he hath ever (almost generally) been here to fore?  
Now while they fate thus sweetly discoursing together in lifting up their eyes, they behold a Crow perching on the bough of a tree thereby, which descending down with a moderate flight; let fall between them, a whole loaf of bread, and so went its ways. Whereupon said S. Paul: Go to, our Lord hath sent us our dynne●… here, truly pious, truly merciful. It is now full sixty years, that I have hitherto received my half loaf every day: Whereas now at your coming hither, he hath redoubled the allowance to his Servants. After which, the Benediction given, they both sat down, by the side of a crystal fountain: but yet before they fell to their meat, there was no little ado between them which of the two, should break the bread, in straining courtesy the one with the other, with religious modesty, and with diverse reasons, in the point of preeminency before each other. S. Paul did principally ground himself in the Laws of hospitality, whereto S. Antony opposeth the majority of years. The strife seemed to last a good while, and the day in the mean time passing away, at last, the duel ceased, upon agreement made to take hold of the loaf between them, and to pull it, so as to each might remain his share in his hand; and so it just fell out, and without more dispute, having taken the bread, and finally stooping, sipped a little water, with thanksgiving, they passed that night in Psalms and Vigils.   

S. Paul discovers to S. Antony his death approaching. He dies in S. Antony's absence, and is afterwards buried by him. Chap. 13.  
THe morning being come, S. Paul begins to speak to his Guest in this so●…: It is now a good while, my Brother, since I have known that you have dwelled in these parts, and your presence hath been promised me heretofore by our common Lord. But now in fine that I am arrived to my last passage, there remains me nought else, but to go my wa●…es, unto Christ, as I have always desired. Know then, you have been sent hither by God to perform my Exequyes, & to cover myilymmes with Earth. S. Antony hearing this, began to weep, and beseech him, not to leave him behind, but to admit him for companion on the way. When S. Paul replied: You are not to regard your own content, but the profit of others. He might seem to favour you indeed, having laid down the burden of your flesh, to cause you to fly into Heaven; but he should not thereby answer the expectation of the Brothers, that should remain behind deprived of your guidance, and example. Wherefore I pray, be i●… not troublesome to you, for Charityes sake, to return your ways home, to fetch hither the Cloak, which was once given you by Athanasius the Bishop, to fold up my carcase in, and so to commit it to the Earth. Which request the Blessed Paul made, not that he cared much to be putrified, either naked, or clothed, especially not having for so long time, used to cover himself with other, then with the leaves of Palms, being woven together with his own hands; but he did it, that he might not grieve him, by expiring in his sight.  
S. Antony remained amazed at the thing, which he heard, & particularly for the Cloak, and with veneration, acknowledging our Lord in the person of S. Paul, without reply, kissing the eyes and hands of the Saint, went his ways in haste to his Hermitage: and at his approach, his two disciples demanding of him, with great anxiety, where he had been so long, he answered: Woe be to me Sinner, and false Monk: I have seen Elias, I have seen john Baptist in the desert, or to say better, I have seen Paul in Paradise. Then holding his peace, in knocking his breast, he took the Cloak of Athanasi●… out of the Cell; when as his Companions importuned him yet to vouchsafe to speak more clear, but he differing the same to its time without more delay, or affording any nourishment to his body so long fasting & well nigh spent; went suddenly forth, with his mind wholly fixed on his sweet Host, fearing (as it fell out) lest in his absence, he might give up the ghost. And now by this time, he had gone in great haste, as it were, half the way, when as lifting up his eyes aloft, he sees among the happy troops of elect spirits, the blessed soul of S. Paul, very glorious & radiant, to ascend up to heaven. And suddenly casting himself on the ground, began to sprinkle his head with sand, and to weep and lament, saying: Why leave you me O Paul? Why go you away so before I had taken my leave of you? So lately known; alas so soon parted!  
S. Antony himself recounted afterwards, that he had passed the ●…est of the way, with the swiftness of a Bird: and so it was known in the proof, since entering into the Cave, he found the holy corpse yet kneeling, and the neck upright, and hands lifted up; insomuch as notwithstanding the triumph, which he had seen before, he was almost of the mind that he was yet alive: but then not perceiving any breath, or sign of life, he endeavoured with bitter plaints to kiss him; and ●…olding him up in the said garment of S. Athanasius, he brought him forth with Hymns, and Psalms. But then not having any instrument to dig his grave with, and with great anxiety thinking, & bethinking himself what to do: Behold two Lions, with their hair laid open to the wind, to come running at that tyme. Whence he at first being somewhat afraid, and then taking courage in God, attended their coming, as so many Doves; and they being arrived to the corpse, did humbly cast themselves at the feet thereof, with fanning in their manner, and bitterly roaring in sign of the sorrow they felt: and presently began with their feet to plough up the sands, until such time, as there remained sufficient room for a man. Which being done, and as it were for their hire, receiving the benediction of S. Antony, they quietly went their ways: and he putting his shoulders to the sacred burden, did bury it in the trench.  
After this, surveying the Heritage of the dead, for not to go thence, altogether empty handed, he took hold of the Cassock of Palms; and being returned home again as long as he lived afterwards in the solemnities of Easter and Pentecost, he would always revest himself therewith. After these works of charity were ended he was entreated by a great number of Monks, now coming in haste to him, where he was, to visit anew, & to recomfort the Convents. He went then along with them, and while they were on the way, there fell out another notable marvel. That way was all very craggy and barren, & the heats excessive, so as it was not long ere provision of water failed them, and the Monks not knowing what to do, letting their Camel go loose, being scorched, and afflicted, lay down; When the holy old man, not a little contristate at so great a peril of theirs, sequestered himself a little, and kneeling on the ground, & lifting his hands to the stars, began to beseech God, with so much faith and fervour, as suddenly in the self same place of prayer, sprung forth the desired liquor. Whence all were revived, and others being satisfied, as they anxiously sought for the Camel, did suddenly find him by the cord of the headstall, through a new miracle, entangled in a rock. Loading him then, to their great contentment, they came very safe, and found to their Cells again.   

S. Antony is very welcome to all at his return: and gives wholesome Documents to each one, upon good occasions. Chap. 14.  
NOw it would be long, and superfluous here, to explicate the joy, which the Disciples showed at the coming of their most sweest Father and Master, and he likewise rejoiced as much to see them all, to be so servant, with his presence and renewed in spirit. He had beside no small consolation, to find his Sister so persevering in the divine service, being come to be Superior of a most Noble, and numerous Convent of Virgins. Now the arrival of the Saint being known throughout all those Parts, a great multitude of persons of all qualities resorted thither, to salute him, and to visit him as they were wont, and especially of the Religious: to whom he for entertainment sake, instead of presents, and gifts, would be giving of precious advertisements and advices, saying: They should always hold firm their faith, and dilection to God, and the Neighbour: They should guard themselves from unclean thoughts, and delights: They should not not suffer themselves to be deceived with Gluttony: and should fly Vain glory: continue their prayers: lay up the documents of the holy Scripture in their breast: be always revolving the actions, and manners of Saints, in mind; endeavouring to reform themselves, through the imitation of them.  
And principally, he advised them not to cease to meditate on those words of the Apostle S. Paul: Sol non occidat super iracundiam vestram, and added thereunto, nor yet upon any other sin whatsoever: it being a thing very fit and necessary, that neither the Sun accuse us of our diurnal malice, nor the Moon of nocturnal sins. For which end (said he) shall the precepts of the Prophet himself, help you much: judge yourselves, and examine yourselves well. Let each one, every day, take account from his proper soul of his actions, words, and thoughts. And having erred, let him amend; having done well, not exalt himself, but seek to persevere, and not become negligen●… and let him beware, he judge no man, nor justify himself, (as S. Paul said another time) until such time as our Lord comes, who shall discover the hidden things; in regard, that we in our actions, many times do deceive ourselves. But our Lord beholds every thing very clearly: and therefore we should seem to have the same regard to others as to ourselves, and to compassionate one another. It shall be also very profitable for us to survey with our Memory, the motions of our soul, and the works which we daily perform, and set them down in writing, as if we were to give account thereof to others. Whence it shall come to pass, that for shame to be manifested to the world, we shall keep ourselves from falling into things which are worthy of reprehension. And with such a discipline refraining the appetites, and subduing the flesh, we shall be able, very easily to conserve ourselves in the grace of our Lord.  
These, and such like instructions, he failed not to give to his Monks, upon good occasions. And for as much as among the secular multitude, there was continually a great number of lame, & diseased people; he prayed afresh for them, but obtained not equally forall: our Lord dispencing his graces, according to his good pleasure. And S. Antony, even as when he was heard seemed not to vaunt himself; so when he suffered repulses, murmured he not, but always gave thanks to our Lord; & exhorted the afflicted to have Patience, and to be satisfied, that their cure depended not on him, nor on men, but on God only, who affords health, when he will, and to whom he lists. Whereupon, the languishing receiving the words of the Old man, as from the mouth of God, learned to attend, and suffer, and the cured came to acknowledge themselves bound not so much to S. Antony therefore, as purely to God. But what shall we say, besides all this, of the efficacy, which the Prayers of S. Antony had even in persons, and places far remote?  
He being in the Monastery, and on this side of the mountain, the Count Hercolaus came humbly to beseech him to vouchsafe to intercede for the health of Policratia virgin of the City of Laodicea, a great servant of God, who through much abstinence, and macerations of the body, did feel most bitter dolours of the hips & stomach and was quite fallen away and come to nothing: which the holy Father did with a very good will, and the Count noted the while in a little scroll the very day of the prayer. And being afterwards returned to Laodicea, and finding the virgin to be now on foot, & free from all manner of pains, to satisfy himself more fully, whether it were to be attributed to the prayer of the Saints, or no; he demanded of her, on what day she began to feel herself well; and having heard it, he presently took out the scroll, & with the great astonishment of all, they found the Saints prayers, and recovery to have happened on the self same day.  
In like manner, a certain Courtier, called Frontone, that being tormented with a raging infirmity would have eaten his tongue, & plucked out his eyes, had recourse to S. Antony. Who without any more ado, said to him: Go thy ways, and thou shalt be healed. But Frontone standing yet still for all that, and not departing thence for some days, the servant of God replied to him: Thou canst not be cured here; Go thy ways then into Egypt, & thou shalt see wonders. And so it fell out, for scarcely was he arrived in those confines there, but his vehement sickness quite for forsook him.  
Many others likewise, whom it were too long to recount in this place, were by means of the Saint, delivered from sundry, & dangerous maladies. Though the miracle of Frontone it seems, apperteynes not so much to the gift of Curing, as that of Prophecy. Which in S. Antony how eminent it was, though by diverse things aforesaid, may seem in some manner to be comprehended: yet shall the same more clearly appear, by that which we shall presently declare.   

S. Antony relieves a Monk in distress: and sees the soul of Ammon, in a vision, to ascend to Heaven. Chap. 15.  
TWO Monks on a time, being travailing in the desert, came to fail of water; in so much as the one of them died thereof, and the other seemed to lie in extremes. This, being revealed to S. Antony, he commanded the two which were in his company, to go their ways, and run presently with a vessel of water to the said place, being distant from the Monastery, a day's journey at least, and tells them wherefore. And they diligently performing the same, found the one, as I said, departed, whom they buried, & brought succour to the other in good time, and being so escaped they conducted him to the Saint. Now for what cause, the same was not showed him before, and why God would conserve the one, and not the other, seems not to concern me so curiously to seek into. It sufficeth, that in so great a distance of place, was manifested to S. Antony what passed.  
Another day, he sitting on a hill, in company of others, sees one ascending in the air, and many meeting of him, with very great joy. Whereat S. Antony, remaining in admiration, and exceedingly desirous to know who it was; it was revealed to him, to be the soul of Ammon a Monk, who dwelling in the Desert of Nitria, about some 13. days journey from the residence of S. Antony, was wont notwithstanding to come sometimes to visit him. He was a person of rare virtue, and many miracles are likewise reported of him: and this one among others, that being once to pass over the river Licus, which at that time, was very much overflown, he prayed Theodore his companion for his sake, to follow some distance from him, to the end by wading together, they might not be seen to each other naked. So did the other, and yet for all that was Ammon afterwards abashed at his own skin. And while he stood upon such points, and bethought him thereof, I know not how, without touching the water, he sees himself on the other shore, in the twinkling of an eye: where likewise the other, being afterwards arrived, and seeing Ammon to be all clothed, and without any sign of wet upon him, demanded the manner how he passed over, and seeing he refused to participate the same with him, he took hold of his feet, and wrong him, and conjured him so much, as in fine he unfolded the quality of his passage to him, with this pact notwithstanding, that he should not discover it to any, till his death.  
Now the Monks, as I said, seeing S. Antony with eyes so attentive and suspended, very dearly entreated him, not to conceal from them, what he saw: when as he answered, that Ammon was departed from these miseries, and was was gone triumphant to Heaven. Whereupon the disciples noted the day, and after a month some Brothers coming from Nitria, making a diligent comparison of times, they found, that Ammon, on that very very day, had passed to a better life.  
Another time, S. Antony sailing with some Monks and other Seculars, began to smell a very loath some savour, and all affirming it to be the smell of salt fish, and of dried figs, he replied, he felt another sent. And while he was thus affiming, there was heard a horrible cry to come from a young man possessed of the devil, who lay hid under the upper deck of the ship. Then S. Antony rebuked the Devil, and on the behalf of Christ constreynes him to depart, as he did, leaving the young man found, and the others astonished not so much at the miracle, as at the purity of a soul, so quick of scent, as to favour the nearness of the unclean spirit. Besides, he was wont also to perceive before hand, the coming of such, as came to see him, and the occasion wherefore: and many times, would foretell the one, and other, some three or four days, and sometimes a month before they arrived at him. But that which happened to Eulogius of Alexandria, was a matter of particular edification, and caution to all.   

The life of Eulogius briefly set down, and especially a not able act of Charity of his, concluded happily through S. Antony's advice. Chap. 16.  
THis Eulogius, was a man, (as Palladius declares) of a good disposition, and having distributed already the greater part of his substance for the love of God, yet nevertheless had not the hart, either to lead a solitary life, or to live under obedience. Whereupon finding by chance a miserable wretch, to lie in the streets, forsaken of all, maimed, without his hands and feet, deprived of the use of all his limbs, except his tongue: he made choice, for his Mortification, and for the Exercise of christian virtue, to take care of that poor wretch, to keep him at home, and to serve him till death: and to the end the work might become more meritorious, being all in fervour, he made a votive promise thereof to our Lord. Having taken him then to him, he attended to the government of him, to provide him of victuals, and clothing, baths, medicines, & physicians; in fine to serve him, as he had been some good Benefactor, or Patron of his.  
In which ministry having now persevered, at least for fifteen years, with equal solicitude of his, and gratitude of the other, at last the Cripple was assailed with so strange and diabolical temptation, as he now began, not to suffer himself to be governed any longer, making very earnest instance to be exposed forth anew in public; alleging that he was now glutted with Eulogius his entertainment, and could endure no longer so retired a life, nor so much abstinence. Eulogius wonders at such a manner of mutation in him, and though he had no small occasion of just indignation against him; notwithstanding overcoming himself, he wet about to cherish the Wretch, more now then ever, in giving him dainty meats, and procuring him some good and pleasant conversation, but all in vain: The more he laboured therein, the more did the other persever, requiring the good Father with nothing else, but complayn●…s, grumbling, & injuries. At last, the devil had brought him into that rage, and desperation, as he was even upon the point as it were, to kill himself.  
Now the matter having passed thus a pretty while, the trouble on the one side was intolerable to Eulogius, and he was now even ready to acquit himself thereof: on the other it seemed to him a great folly to lose through impatience, the travails and toils of so long a tyme. Moreover he was stung with the offering, which he had made to our Lord God. Amidst these perplexityes and agitations of mind, he resolves for a last dispatch to communicate the whole with some neighbour Monks. Of whom he was counseled, that since the great S. Antony was alive, he should be contented to repair to that Oracle, and seek fit remedy at his hands. Whereupon Eulogius did think it best so to do, in regard he had heard much commendations of the great Sanctity of that Holy man, and was glad to have this opportunity to see him. To which end, Eulogius had prepared, though with great difficulty, a bark to put the Cripple into, but not without much ado he got the miserable Wretch to be conveyed thereinto, with him: and so both of them went by water to the Monastery of the Saint, where being once arrived, Eulogius gladly attended his coming from the Hermitage, to visit the Brothers, and Guests, as he was wont. Nor was it long; for on the night following the servant of God, came into the public view, intermitting for a time his divine contemplations, and attending now to the good of his Brethren; & causing all the strangers to be assembled, according to custom, he suddanynely calls for Eulogius, very often by name, not known to him before: Who thinking there had been some other Eulogius present, held his peace for that time: But afterwards hearing himself to be called upon a new, being half astonished, made answer; Behold I a●…re.  
S. Antony requires the cause of his voyage, ann Eulogius replies: There is no need, Father, that I should tell it to you: He that hath so manifested my nam●… unto you, may as well like wise discover my necessity. I know it very well, replied the Saint; but yet for edification of the standers b●…, I would have it declared from your own mouth. Eulogius obeyed: when he had ended the narration, the holy A●…oot stood up, and with be●…ded bro●…es, looking him in the face: Thou art ready to abandon (saith he) this poor man, and le●…st thy●… self to be vanquished with perturbation and tediousness: Know then, if thou leavest him so, that God will receive him by the means of another, that is better than thee. With which words, Eulogius being much terrified, durst open his mouth no more. When S. Antony turning himself to the infirm man, with a severe countenance, and with a terrible voice, beyond all expectation, said to him: Thou perverse and abominable Wretch, un worthy both of Heaven, and earth: Thou never leavest fretting, & quarrelling, to the offence of God: knowest thou not, that he who serves thee is Christ? How dar'st thou then so to mutter against the divine Majesty? Is it not clear, that Eulogius, only for the Love of Christ, hath undertaken to have care of thee, & to do thee good? This said, he attended to give audience to the others, and after some space of time, returning to those two again, with more benignity of speech, advised them, saying: Beware my Children, you part not from each other: but laying aside all rancour, & bitterness return you home again, where you have lived together, for so long time, because our Lord will soon be calling for you: and know, that so cruel a temptation, hath not befallen you for aught else, then for being now so near your End, and the reward of your labours: and take heed, you do not otherwise, for that if the Angel find you not so, you are in great danger of losing your Crowns.  
This manner of reprehension, with both, had the weight it ought to have, and they departing without delay, by accord, went to their former habitation, and there passed not 24. days, but Eulogius died: & after three days more the Leper followed him, very well disposed in the inward man, & exceeding contrite. This success was attentively observed, not without a great deal of glory to our Lord, and much profit to souls.   

S. Antony enjoyeth sundry visions. And fortels diverse things of the Arrian Heretics. Chap. 17.  
TO this kind of visions, and Revelations, may others be added, no less to the purpose of exciting the fear of God, and very worthy to be always conserved in memory. Whereof one was, that S. Antony being one day in prayer, about the hour of Noon, before meat, he felt himself suddenly to be ravished in spirit, and it seemed to him that he was carried to Heaven, by some favourable spirit. But in ascending some others of a proud and fierce aspect, opposed themselves against him, who being repulsed by the Guard of S. Antony, began to quarrel, and allege the power they had from above, to examine whosoever passed. With this denunciation, they prevailed to perform their office, but the wicked spirits being willing to demand an account of S. Antony from the day of his Nativity, it was not permitted them to do so, but only from the time he became a Religious person, in regard that all the transgressions behind, were now canceled, and remitted by the divine piety.  
Then did the infernal Ministers dilate themselves against the servant of Christ, in diverse accusations and calumnies, but not being able to prove any, so ashamed, and confounded, in spite of themselves they were feign to let him pass. And at that very instant again, did S. Antony return to himself, so struck and astonished withal, as that forgetting his refection, he remained all the rest of the day, and all the night, a sighing, and considering, with how many Enemies unhappy Man hath to deal withal. It came into his mind beside, how the Apostle not without good reason seems to call the devils, the Princes and Rulers of this air: exhorting the faithful, to betake them to the armour of God, that they may be able to resist him in that dreadful day, and the spiteful accuser may not have wherewith to convince them at that hour.  
Another time, after he had a while talked of the immortality of the Soul, with some that came to visit him; the next night, he heard himself called from above, with these words: Antony stand up, go forth, and behold. Being gone out, he seees a foul and horrible Monster, who with the head seemed to reach to the clouds; and some others besides, with wings, which endeavoured to fly, but he stretching forth his unmeasurable hands, struck some of them down to the Earth; others he could not hinder from mounting on high: and as for the one he fretted with rage, and gnashed his teeth; so he rejoiced for the other, and made great triumph: When suddenly a voice said to S. Antony: Mark well what thou seest: & so coming a new light upon him, he perceived it to be the passage of souls, and that great Giant to be the devil, who had power & authority upon his Subjects only; but was wholly impotent against those, who in life had not been obedient to him.  
Another day, he seemed to behold infinite snares, gins, and pitfalls, to be spread on the face of the Earth, saying with a loud ●…igh: And who shall be able to come off safe, ●…midst so many nets, and traps? he heard this answer: Humility only. With these and other such like illustrations of the understanding, came S. Antony continually to be more inflamed to the study of Perfection, and to vanquish himself: and as upon such accidents, he was ever wont to stand musing, and be extraordinarily recollected; so the Disciples would be easily aware, that some such like ecstasies or abstractions, or other had happened to him: & they would be coming about him, with so m●…ny prayers and conjurations, as he could not conceal them, especially considering the fruit they might gather from them.  
Another time, after these, he approaching now towards the end of his life, and sitting in contemplation, he was rapt in like manner, & turning himself to the standers by, began to fetch a deep sig●…, and trembling all over, kneels on the ground, and so remaining a good while in prayer, he arose again, all bathed in tears. Whereupon the disciples being afraid, enforced him to manifest to them, that which happened to him. Then the Saint, with many sobs, and with words interrupted, answered: O children, how much better were it to dye outright, then to behold the things to fall out, which have now been declared to me. When they yet urging him again, he adds, but with deep sighs: The wrath of God hangs over the holy Church. Forlo, it is to be given up into the power of bestial persons. I have seen the table of our Lord encompassed round with lascivious and unbridled mules, that with many kicks of the heels, oppress the Priests, and turn every thing upside down. At which sight, I sighing amain, and desirous to know the mystery, this voice seemed to land in mine ears: My Altar shall be profaned, and full of abominations. But yet together with this evil news, I have likewise learned, how the storm shall soon pass over, and fair weather again shall return to the Catholics. Both which Prophecies, were shortly fulfilled. First in the sacrilegious boldness and insolency of the Arrians: and then with the demonstration of the divine justice, and with the punishments which in part, at least they paid for all.  
These Ministers of the devil, had sacked the Temple of Christ, and within sacred cloisters had violated the Virgins and Matrons there, made havoc of the pious people, and stained the Yards, & Chapels with innocent blood, brought in the rabble, and the vilest artisans, the worshippers of Idols, to contaminate the vessels, to trample the Baptisteryes, and Sacraments; and in sum, committed such things, as without horror and shame cannot be related. But so impious, and licentious prosperity of theirs, lasted notlong. For lo, the ravenous wolves now fallen into hatred with all Nations, for such impietyes; and chased away with the fury of the self same people, whom they had stirred up, fled out of the Cities, & basely went lurking again in their wont holes. Whereupon the true & ancient Religion, came again to dilate itself; and the faithful saw to their great content and consolation, the predictions of S. Antony to be verified. Whereof since we have now treated sufficiently already; we will conclude this matter, with a notable case, which happened in the time of Nestorius the Governor of Alexandria, to a certain man called Balatius, a Captain in Egypt.   

The judgement of God showed upon Balatius the Heretic: and how S. Antony opposeth himself against the Arrians. Chap. 18.  
THis Balatius was a great favourer of the Arrians, & consequently a most c●…uell Persecutor of Catholics, and particularly of the Religious: in so much, as he made the Monks to be publicly whipped stark naked: nor was ashamed likewise to scourge the sacred Virgins, and the Servants of Christ. Where with S. Antony, being moved, resolved to write to him a brief Letter, of the tenor following. I see the wrath of Heaven to come upon thee: Do thou cease then to deal with the Christians in this manner, that it may not come and overtake thee. The Heretic laughed and scoffed at these menaces of his, and casting the letter to the ground, & spitting upon it, he bade the bearers thereof (after he had vilely entreated them) to return to S. Antony, with this message: Since you seem to take such thought for the Monks, it will be now time for me to call you to account also. But there passed not over a full day, when the divine vengeance appeared upon that unhappy Wretch. Forasmuch, as he and Nestorius going to a place called Cherius, but a day's journey distant from the City, upon two horses, that of Balatius being the gentlest in his stable, the said horses began to play together, when as that, whereon Nestorius' fate (being they stiller and quieter of the two) giving suddenly a gripe to Balatius, pulled him down, and leaping upon him, most cruelly broke his hip, whence being carried to Alexandria, he died within three days, while all remained astonished to see, how suddenly S. Antony's menaces were executed upon him.  
In whose soul, beside so noble a gift of Prophecy, was seen also a rich ornament of Wisdom; not sprung from the curiosity of understanding, but from purity of affect: not founded in meerespeculation or discourses, but in a sensible knowledge, and divine Love: not refined with the chairs, and scholastical disputes, or written Books, but with lively faith, devout aspirations upon the marvellous volume of this great fabric: Insomuch as the immensity, and most swift, and ordinate motions of the heavenly spheres, the generation & corruption of sublunary things, the discording concord of simple bodies, the forms and differences of the mixed, the variety of inventions, arts, customs, and accidents of men: but above all the sweet disposition, and infallible government of the Eternal Providence, were to him, as well a glass of verity, as an incentive of Charity. And that which is more to be celebrated with these so great gifts, and treasures of profound knowledge; he was so far from being puffed up with them; or once to think but vainly of himself, as how much more knowledge he got, so much the more he increased in true Modesty and Humility. And especially he carried a very singular respect, with an interior and exterior reverence to the Interpreters & Depositarians of the divine Scripture, such as are the Clarks, and Prelates of the holy Church, and as willingly demanded, & learned of them all, as if he had been the most rude and ignorant of the world: albeit on the other side, when need was, he would not stick to give a good account of himself, and of the faith he embraced to any person of what quality soever.  
The Arrians had spread throughout all Alexandria, with subtle lying, that S. Antony was of their opinion: which the Seruamt of God hearing, admiring so great impudence in them, by the judgement of the Catholic Bishops, and of the Brothers withal, he descended from the hill, and being in the city, in the presence of all the people, began to detest that perverse Sect, calling it a pestilent heresy, & the Messenger of Antichrist; teaching, and advertising all how the Son of God is no created thing, nor made of nothing, but is the self same substance, and wisdom of the eternal Father. Whence were it a great impiety to say, there was once a time, when he was not: for as much as he, the word of the Father, was eternal with him, whereupon he concluded: Wherefore, have you no communication with those wicked followers of Arius, since the light hath nothing ●…o do with darkness; and you that observe the due Worship of God with reason do call yourselves, and are truly Christians. But they in ●…earming the Son, and the Word of God the Father, a creature, are nothing different from Gentiles; nay rather do you hold it most certain, that the creatures themselves, are all incensed against such wicked persons, that dare to number and put among things created, the Creator, and Lord of the Universe, in whom, & through whom hath been made, and hath being, whatsoever is therein.  
From such like advertisements and protestations of the Saint the hearers took a great deal of pleasure, in seeing that pestiferous opinion so anathematised by such a Man: and all the inhabitants of the City, as well the Laics, as Ecclesiastical, as well Gentiles as Christians, did strive to be the first in the Temple, to see the Man of God, (for so was he called of all) and there likewise, in the sight of them all, would he work many Miracles, partly in expelling devils, partly in curing: in so much as the very Pagan's themselves, made instance to be touching at least of the garment of S. Antony. Finally, in that short space of time, there were made more Christians, than were in a whole year before: and he himself, besides the truth of the doctrine he delivered, & the virtue of the miracles he wrought, and the Prudence which in his daily actions he showed; was of so attractive, and gracious a countenance, as how be it of stature he were not different from others; nevertheless the strangers that arrived thither, having never seen him before, could easily distinguish him from the multitude, and point him out with the fingar to be such a one. To this serenity of countenance, were answerable his behaviours, so judicious, and complete, as if he had always lived notin Caves, or in the Forests, but in populous lands, and in conversation with the Nobles.   

S. Antony sends away two Philosophers well satisfied, who came to prove, and tempt him; Besides others, that came to jest at him. Chap. 19  
THERE came on a time, as S. Antony was on this side of the Mountain, two Pagan Philosophers to him, to try him awhile, and to prove what was in him: and he knowing a far off, what manner of men they were, went forth to meet them, & said to them by means of a good Interpreter: Wherefore have you, being sage, and Philosophers as you are, taken such pains, so to come to the house of a fool? When they answering, he was no fool, but prudent, and wise; S. Anthony replied, and pressed them with this dilemma: If you would seem to visit me, your labour were superfluous: If you take me to be sensible, and wise, then do ye become Christians as I am, since convenient it were, we should seek to imitate the better: and, if I were to repair to you, I would surely endeavour to follow your steps; so do you, that have procured to see and know me thus, not refuse to do that which I do. With such like words as these, with some miracles, which they had seen him but lately work, these eurious men, being amazed thereat, departed hence, not without some amendment in themselves.  
Others came afterwards of purpose to jest at him, as an Idiot, to whom he said: What think you? Which was the first, either wit or learning? Whereto the Philosophers answering, that without doubt, Wit was the first; and that by it, learning was found out. S. Antony did reply: if it be so then he that hath his wit's sound, hath no need of learning. With this conclusion, as well the Doctors themselves, as the standers by, with reason were astonished. After whom came in others in like manner to demand of S. Antony, account of the Christian Religion. These men also were very learned, & versed not only in Poets fables, but no less in the imaginations of Plato, and Pythagoras. Now then, they beginning to sophisticate with him, and gibe at the Gospel, the blessed S. Antony, stood awhile as it were in a study, and thence with great compassion of their blindness, discoursed in manner following.  
What is more honourable, think you Philosophers, either to confess the Cross, or to adore, as Gods, such as are announced for adulterous, and full of wicked carnality? The thing, which Christians profess, at least, is the sign of Fortitude, and contempt of death: your glories are nothing else, but passions of intemperance, lasciviousness, and unbridled desires: which is better to say, the Eternal Word, without leaving his Divinity, for the benefit of the world, hath taken human flesh, to make us partakers of the divine nature: or instead of the great God, to worship (as you do) the brutish beasts, and dead men? And with what face then, dare you to scoff at Christians for affirming Christ, the Son of God, for the Redemption of mortals, without leaving what he was before, to become what he was not, and to be so abased, as the humility derogates not a whit from Majesty; while you others, so unworthily entreat a substance so fair, and noble, as are reasonable souls? Forasmuch, as on the one side, you would have them to be streams, branches, and semblances of a supreme Intelligence, ●…gendred of the highest God: & on the other, you do seem to precipitate them from the top of Heaven, even down to Earth beneath: Whereas indeed a less evil it were for you, to shut them up only in human bodies, but you clothe them, or to say better, put on them, the shapes of Asses, Dogs, Wolves, and Serpents, and that which is worse, with shifting and thrusting them now into one body, now into another, you do make them perpetual erratiques & vagabonds. With which villainy notwithstanding you perceive not awhit, being so blind, how much you do injure withal that sovereign mind whence they are derived, and whom they seem to resemble, since look what the image is, the same by all likely hood, must the architype be, & yet that which is worse by this means do you come also to diminish the dignity of God himself, the father and origine of that most excellent Intelligence.  
But come we to the mystery of the Cross, which you so much upbraid. Now tell me then, which of the two were fitter to be chosen, to suffer without default the snares of the wicked, and for defence of Honesty & Truth, to expose one's self to all bitterness of punishments: or else to give credit to fables, and adore the errors of Osiris, & Is●…s, and the deceits of Typhoon, & the flight of Saturn, & the devouring of children, and murdering of Parents, for such are your opinions, and your articles. Besides this, you that flout so, at the reproach of death, why seem you not to admire the glory of the Resurrection? And yet those that preach the one, proclaim the other: and how remember you the cross, & pass over in silence, so many dead men raised, blind restored, palsy men cured, lepers cleansed, the walking upon waters, & other infinite miracles? All which seem to show very clearly, that Christ was not purely Man, but true God and Man together. And surely it cannot be denied, but you proceed very unjustly with us, and deal not with our scriptures as you ought; forasmuch, as if you regarded them, with an equal eye, you should find, without doubt, how all the actions of Christ, do manifest and discover him to be God.  
And now produce you awhile your triumphs against us. Though indeed from irrational substances, what else can you bring forth, but crueltyes and bestialityes? And it forsooth (as I understand you would seem to answer) that such things, are but all●…gorically meant by you, and that they have a good in terpretation with them, while in Proserpina is understood the earth: in juno, the ay●… in Diana, the Moon; In Neptune, the Sea; and so of the other: y●… for all that, you can not deny yourselves to be servants and worshippers of the creature, to the open disparagement and grievous dishon our of the Creator himself. Whereas, if the beauty of the visible things, were it that moved you so much, such a motion were enough indeed to make you to admire them, and no more: but you instead thereof, fall a deifying them, and the honour which is due to t●… Artificer, do you give to the masonry itself, the same of the Archi●…ed to the house, and that of the Captain to the Soldier. What th●… do you answer to all those things? Do but tell us. I pray, that w●… also may learn, if things so worthy of laughter, may seem to be contained in the Crosse.   

S. Antony proceeds in his discourse: and what followed thereupon. Chap. 20.  
THe Philosophers now being brought into straits, & forced to shift here and there, S. Antony smiling, proceeded forward. The truth of the things, which I have told you, is even to be seen with the very eyes; and yet nevertheless, whereas you, as Professors of Logic, ground yourselves upon sillogismes, and without such instruments, allow not Religion: tell me first, The knowledge of God, is it more exactly purchased by dialectical demonstrations, or by operations of Faith, occasioned through works, o●… demonstration founded in words? And they answering, that Fai●… proceeding from works, without doubt, was the more ancient of the two, and brought the greater certainty with it. You have answered well, said S. Antony, because indeed Faith consists in a certain interior disposition of the Mind; whereas Logic seems to lean merely upon the artificiousnes of those, which put the words and the propositions together; in such wise, as when one, by the me●…nes of Faith, hath the virtue to work, he hath no need of the art of argumentation at all; since the very same which Faith teateacheth us, do you seek to prove by reasons and discourses, and many times are you not able so much, as to express with words, that which we penetrate with the understanding: and no marvel, because the Christian law, is not founded in specious & pompous reasons, but in that power and Virtue, which by Christ, is subministred to us, from the Eternal God.  
And that this is true, behold us here, who never having learned any letters, do believe in God, acknowledging in his factu●…e, the Providence, he hath of the Universe. And this our habit of mind, how operative, and efficacious it is, you may gather at least from hence: That whereas, the foolish Inventions, Sects, Phantasyes', and I dolls of you Grecians, in effect do vanish, and come to nothing: the Christian Verity extends itself on all sides, 〈◊〉 you with all your Sophistryes, convert not the Christians to Gentilism: but we, not proposing, nor teaching any other than the Faith in Christ, go daily defacing your unhappy superstitions, and diabolical ceremonies, in making Christ manifest to all, to be truly God, and the Son of God: and you withal your smooth, and elegant speech, are not able to hinder the progress of the Christian doctrine: whereas we only with the name of the Cross, do suddenly chase away those very devils themselues, which you dread, & adore for Gods. And where, but the sign of the Cross is made, can no art Magic avail, nor have sorceries there any force at all. And if not, then tell me, I pray, where now are your Oracles? Where your Egyptian Enchanters? When ceased, and vanished trow you these infernal arts, but since the coming of the cross of Christ?  
And do you now then think the Cross, to be worthy of scorn; & not rather the things, by it convinced, annihilated, & destroyed? And that so much the more, as your rites were never yet persecuted of any, but have been always for the most part received, and honoured of the world: Whereas the Christian Faith with all the persecutions & tribulations, which it hath hitherto suffered from Kings and Princes, continually flourisheth and multiplies, now more than ever. And when was there ever in the world, more light, & greater knowledge of God? When ever attended they so much to Sobriety, Continency, and Virginity? When was death so much ever contemned, as since the holy Cross hath been known, and adored? & he that believes it not, may behold so many squadrons of Martyrs, and such a number of Virgins, who for the love of Christ, have conserved their bodies immaculate, and untouched. And howbeyt the things already said, are most sufficient for the clearing of our Faith: nevertheless since you yet stand requiring of demonstrations, behold the persons possessed with ill spirits (and by good hap some were present at that time,) and causing them to come forth in the midst, he said, as follows. Either do you with your sillogismes, or with any other art you, have of Enchantments, or invocations of your I dolls, deliver this people; Or else if you cannot, leave of to entercounter with us, & acknowledge the Omnipotency of our Saviour.  
Hereupon S. Antony invoking the name of Christ, he made two or three signs of the cross upon the possessed, who from the crye●… they gave, and from pranks they played, and from the torments, and violences they suffered, being suddenly returned to full and perfect health, became now very still, and gave infinite thanks to our Lord God. Whereat the Philosophers, with reason, remaining astonished, S. Antony spoke to them in this sort. Why do you so wonder heereat? These are no works of ours, but of Christ, by the means of such as believe in him. Do you then believe in him likewise, and become Christians, and you shall see, that ours are no babble awhit, but merely the effects of a lively Faith, which if you had, you should not need, to go begging of arguments. These were the words of S. Antony, and they likewise admiring the same, went their ways, showing him great Reverence, and confessing withal how much they had been helped by him.   

How the fame of S. Antony increased: And especially what credit he had with Princes. Chap. 21.  
BY these and such like things, may every one easily imagine, how much daily the fame and renown of S. Antony, went dilating itself: insomuch as at last not only persons afflicted with infirmities, and evil Spirits, or such as were desirous to be guided in the way of our Lord; came to the mountain to visit him, and to request help and counsel at his hands: But even likewise the very Magistrates, and judges of Alexandria themselves. Who for to have more easy access unto him, sent to entreat the same at his hands, by means of prisoners, and guilty persons, who were subject to criminal sentences, as knowing well such cases and necessities, would not be despised of the servant of Christ. Nor were they deceived, since being vanquished by their prayers and tears, he went forth of his Hermitage, and came to exhort the Governor in passing sentence upon them, by any means to prefer the fear of God before any passion, or human respect: remembering them withal of that saying in the Gospel, What measure you afford to others, shall be likewise given to you. And with such manner of advices as these, obtained he, very many dispatches of suits, and releases of Innocents'.  
For other personages, he forbore not with admirable modesty to remember them likewise of the vanity of the world, and the felicity of a solitary life: nor the same without fruit, for that many having left great riches, and honours, as well of war, as of peace, have converted themselves to a religious life. And in sum, in the person of S. Antony, Christ had afforded a famous Physician to all Egypt. What hart oppressed with sadness which parted not cheerful and content from him? What dolorous soul, for the death of their dearest friends, deposed not on a sudden their heavynes and murmuring? What wrathful person, was not presently reduced to concord? What beggar or Wretch, with his words and examples, that came not to make little reckoning of money, and willingly to suffer the necessities of life? What tepid Monk, resumed not again new fervour? What young man, with the sight and discourses of S. Antony, was not suddenly enamoured with chastity? What conscience afflicted and tempted of the Enemy, or molested with irksome thoughts, that was not immediately quieted. Because indeed among the virtues of this holy man (as we have said above) one was so acute a discretion of spirits, as in the twinkling of an eye, he would know their inclinations and motions; and would not only suffer himself to be deceived, but likewise give opportune and excellent remedy to others, according to the necessities of every one. Besides, How many Virgins; already destined to matrimony, that with the only beholding of S. Antony a far off, have been consecrated to Christ? And finally, as many as repaired to him, have come their ways from him much encouraged against the Devil, instructed against evil cogitations, comforted in tribulations, and full of virtuous, and holy purposes.  
True it is, that such manner of conversation with men, was very cautiously dispensed by him, nor did he so give himself to the care of others, as to be any whit unmindful of himself, but rather as soon, as could be, in imtation of Christ, leaving the multitude, he would retire himself to prayer and solitude. Nor was the sweetness of friends, or power of Princes, able to withdraw him from such manner of observance. To which purpose, we are not to pass over in silence, how a certain Captain, after he had visited him, being willing to entertain him further in discourse, he gently excused himself, with that similitude of Fishes (so renowned afterwards, and brought into a Proverb) that even as those, remaining on the land, give over and dye, so Monks abiding too much with Seculars, do loose the fervour of the spirit; with which comparison, the Captain was well satisfied, though much grieved the while to be severed from him. But what great matter may it seem, that S. Antony's friendship, should so be desired of Rulers or Prefects of some Provinces only, since we see it sought for no less of very Monarches themselves, and of the Emperors of the world?  
It is a known thing, how Constantinus Augustus, and the Princes his sons, Constans and Constantius, sent him letters, as to a Father, entreating him to vouchsafe to send them greeting, and good counsel: but he was so alienate from worldly favours, and so abhorred he every least appearance of vanity, as he was upon the point, not to accept the Epistles sent, saying to the Monks, to whom it seemed to be some great honour to be so courteously greeted by the Caesars: Why marvel you that a King should write to a man? Nay wonder rather, the immortal God, should write so his law to mortals, yea even speak to them face to face by means of his only begotten Son. The magnanimous Abbot then (as we have said) within a little had refused to receive the letters, at least he was resolved not to answer them at all, if through the prayers of his Monks, and scruple which would arise of little Edification, he had not been enforced in a manner to write back, as he did: first with praising those Lords, for the saith they professed, & then exhorting them to make no great reckoning of their present greatness but to have always the future judgement in mind, & to acknowledge Christ only, for the true, and eternal King; he concluded lastly in persuading them to be courteous and benign, and to have special care of the poor, and of justice.. Which advices, were received of the Emperor and Princes with great joy and confolation.  
This was the credit and reputation, whereto the Servant of Chest, even in his time, was arrived, surmounting the Envy, and detraction of the world; and the same not so much, through same of great learning, or of extraordinary Eloquence, or of Books ●…ut forth to light, or of any of those arts, which are in price with ●…he world, as through a sanctity of manners only, and by the grace of God, who is delighted to exalt the humble, to manifest such as are willing to hide themselves, and withal to give the world to understand, how the divine precepts and counsels, are not impossible to those, that will disentangle themselves, and walk courageously in the way of virtues. But be this sufficiently said for the present of the glorious acts, and rare parts of S. Antony, rather as intimated to the faithful only, than any wise explicated as they deserve. And now remains it for us to touch somewhat of his Death, that to him was a sweet, and blessed Birthday.   

S. Antony being now come to the end of his days, presageth his death. With his happy departure out of this life. Chap. 22.  
THe holy Old man, was now arrived to the age of one hundred and five years old, with a great ability of body. He wanted not a tooth, though his gums indeed were somewhat fallen: He had his sight very excellent good; having his eyes yet sound, and quite without blemish: his feet, and arms he had still very active, and that which is more to be marveled at, was this; that notwithstanding he was so given, from his childhood, to Fast, Vigils, Solitudes, Cloisters, with other of the sharpest penances that are, without shifting (as we said above) his garments, or ever bathing himself; he had yet, so fresh, and fair a skin, as if he had been always trained up in feasts, and banquets, stoves, and baths, and other addresses of human delicacyes. In this state, had he an interior feeling in himself, of the speedy approach of his last days. Whereupon going forth again from the in most part of the wilderness to revisit and comfort the Conuents abroad, and causing the Brothers to be assembled together as to a Congregation, he clearly spoke to them in this sort.  
This is the last visit, and surely is it much, that in this present life, we have enjoyed one another so long. But now it is time at last, that I go my ways. For I have lived in the world my part already. The disciples in hearing this, began to weep, and to give very dear embraces, and holy kisses of peace to their Master, Who being now very glad to go forth of this exile, and to pass into his Country, in the mean while he went about, to put them in mind, that they would not suffer the travails of Religion to seem tedious to them, but daily seem to expect death: that they endeavour to keep, the soul from unclean thoughts: that they purpose to imitate the manners of Saints, and wholly fly the commerce of Schismatics, and Heretics, not suffering themselves to bend this way, or that way; through fear of Magistrates, or Princes, whose forces are but little, and not durable.  
With these, and other such like advices, making an Epilogue as it were of the rest, he took leave of his children, who using all violence to retain him there, that they might be receiving his last spirit, they could not procure the favour, as well for many respects which he concealed, as principally, to avoid a certain abuse, which the Egyptians had, to conserve with some art or other, the bodies of persons of quality, upon certain beds, in performing their wont Exequys indeed, & en wrapping them after their manner in sheets, but yet avoiding to put them under the ground, as a thing wholly unworthy of them. Now was this abuse always very much displeasing to S. Antony, and he had been reprehending the people for it at sundry times, and entreated the Bishops, often to remedy the same: alleging that even from the ancient Prophets themselves, were seen to be sepulchres extant, yea that the body of Christ our Lord himself, had been put in to a Monument, and was covered with a great stone, who arose the third day With which examples, howbeyt already, he had reduced many persons, to bury their dead; yet nevertheless, knowing the custom, and inclination of that people, he would not trust the multitude with his spoils, but retiring himself into his Cell, from whence had he departed, within few months after fell sick: and calling his two disciples to him, who had now some fifteen years been present with him, he spoke to them in manner following.  
I am now (my dearest) upon walking the way of my Fathers, and I feel myself to be called of our Lord. As for you be you wary and vigilant, and take heed, you lose not the labours of so long a time: but as if you had but now begun, do you enforce yoursel●…es to maynteynly out wont fervour and study. Then know yo●… the snares, and rages of the invisible Enemies, and know you likewise, how through divine judgement, they have lost their forces. Do you not fear them then, but always aspire to Christ, and fixing a ●…iuely faith in him, expect every moment to be cited before him, & so attend to yourselves, still remembering the rules, and documents, you have had from me; especially to fly as fire, the conversation of Arrians, and Meletians, and whosoever shall have severed themselves from the Faith, and communion of the Catholic Church, since you know, how I no less have always abhorred them. But rather seek to unite yourselves with Christ, and with his Saints; that after death, they may acknowledge you as Friends, and be receiving you into the Eternal tabernacles. Be this your opinion then, and this your discourse.  
And if you have any care of me also, as of a Father, do not suffer my Corpse, by any means, to be carried to Egypt, with the hazard of being put up in some house, according to the perverse custom of the Country there; but hide me rather in the earth, in a place, where no person of the world, may know besides your selves, because if it be consumed for the present, it shall yet be restored again very glorious in the Resurrection. You shall distribute my Garments in such sort, as that Athanasius the Bishop may have one of my Melots' (which were only poor sheep skin's sowed together) and the Mantle whereupon I was wont to lie. To the Bishop Serapion, you shall give the other Melot: and you, in memory of me shall keep the Cilice: and with this my Sons, remain in peace, for Antony passeth, and shall be no more abiding with you.  
These were his last words, and then with a cheerful countenance, showing the Angels and Saints to rejoice, who came to meet him, he gave up the Ghost. And the disciples, though sad for losing such a Father on earth, nevertheless being recomforted, for having purchased such an Intercessor in Heaven, did bury him, according as he had ordained. And to the Bishops, they gave the garments, as welcome, and as much esteemed of them, as those who had gotten a very rich inheritance. And the great Athanasius, recounts of himself, how he wore the same afterwards, very willingly: whereby it seemed to him, that he carried about him, a perfect Memorial of the wholesome advices, and documents of S. Antony. Such a course, and end, made the great Servant of Christ: whose life (as we insinuated above) Athanasius himself first wrote, in the Greek tongue; who though he were of another vocation, notwithstanding in faith & will was he most united with him. The blessed Euagrius translated the same into latin, who lived very near those times, and was the disciple of both the Macarius, enriching the same with some things received, as it is probable, of such as had much familiarity & conversation with the Man of God. Moreover, as many as have framed the Ecclesiastical History, and other most grave Authors beside, have likewise touched his acts, and made very pious, and honourable mention of him: God undoubtedly so disposing the same, not so much in recompense of the labours of S. Antony (who enjoying eternal felicity in heaven, should seem to care very little to be renowned in earth) as for the profit of all man kind. To the end, so perfect, and noble deeds, words, and manners, might not seem to be shut up within the terms of one people, or of one age only; but should dilate themselves into all parts, and serve for instruction, glass, & incitement to all Nations, and to all posterity.   
FINIS.   

S. PACHOMIUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

I BORNE of misbelieving Parents, gained  
Not by myself but Heaven, the saving light,  
Quickened the grace which I had entertained,  
And left the world, that I more safe might fight  
Against my foes: I victory obtained,  
Finding this way to countermand their spite:  
And slighting what the world doth most commend  
More easily I did myself defend.   

What ere he be that strives to have a share  
Within the mansion of Eternity,  
Let him in this bestow his greatest care  
To shun th'endearments of Mortality.  
Souls have no parts, hearts undivided are,  
Heaven and the world have no affinity,  
Like as of Sense, on several objects bend,  
The strength is weakened, and is less intent.    

THE LIFE OF S. PACHOMIUS ABBOT.  Written by Simeon Metaphrastes. 

Of the Birth of S. Pachomius, and his miraculous Conversion to the Christian Faith. Chap. 1.  
IN the same age (some few years after) the blessed Pachomius did flourish, a great Father likewise and an excellent Master of Monks: whose virtue, and Religion, no doubt was so much the more memorable, as the help of Education, which he had was less, being borne of Gentiles both Father and Mother, & brought up in Thebais, without any knowledge of our Saviour Christ, until such time, as he arrived unto military age. Some notable signs did forerun his Vocation. One was, that when they gave him to drink any wine, or other liquor, which had been offered to the Idols, with a certain hidden aversion of the stomach, he would suddenly be vomiting it forth. And another sign also was there yet of more wonder: for that, he being once conducted to a Sacrifice, which was to be performed, by a river's side, hard by, there could be nothing done; for that at his presence, the Priest could neither finish his ceremonies, nor would the Devils seem to enter into the Statues, to give forth answers, from thence, as they were wont: so as their wicked Minister, having finally understood the occasion thereof, with furious brawling, began to control the Parents of Pachomius, as having brought thither, an enemy of the immortal Gods: and commanded them, suddenly to thrust him forth, as fearing lest some heavenly wrath, or vengeance might light on their Son.  
Amidst so impious superstitions of his house, & the rudiments of Egyptian learning and doctrine, S. Bachomius being arrived to the twentieth year of his life, was enroled as a Soldier in a new levy of men, which in the name of Constantius, was then made in diverse parts, against the Tyrant Maxentius. And with this occasion, being conducted by water with others, to a certain City, near unto Thebes, he fell into great necessity, together with the whole army, through the small provision that was made of victuals for them. Which being understood, by those of the Country there, who by good hap, were of the faithful people of Christ, and very friendly to the Neighbour, they suddenly provided for the afflicted Soldiers, what was needful for them; and that with so great solicitude and charity, as S. Pachomius was astonished thereat: & demanding what nation they were of, that was so hospitable, and benign; answer was made him they were Christians. When demanding again, of what manner of life & institute they were, he understood, that they did believe in jesus Christ, the only Son of God, and did well to all sorts of persons, with firm confidence, to have some large remuneration for it, at the hands of the same God.  
S. Pachomius, had scarcely heard these words, but that full, as well of interior consolation, as of an unusual light, retiring himself from the company, and being somewhat in a deep study with himself, he lifted up his hands to the stars, saying: Lord God, who framedst the Heaven and earth, if thou shalt vouchsafe to regard my baseness, and my travails, and give me the knowledge of thy Divinity; I promise to serve thee, and obey thy precepts while I breath. With this prayer, and promise, the love of virtue so increased in him, as he began, from that time forwards through the divine Grace to resist all sensuality, and valiantly to suffer Tribulations; helping himself with the memory of his first purposes, until such time, as the Emperor, having gotten a glorious victory upon the Tyrant, he was cashiered with others: and not seeing opportunity there to become a Christian, he immediately went his ways to Chemosium, a Town of the higher Thebais, where remained some notable and venerable Servants of God. Of whom, being instructed in the holy Faith, he was baptised: and the very same night, that he received this wholesome Sacrament, he sees in his Sleep his right hand to be filled with dew, which falling from heaven, did incorporate itself in form of honey, and withal heard a voice, which said: Open the eyes of thy understanding Pachomius, and know, that this is a sign of the grace, which is afforded thee by Christ. This vision was not in vain or unprofitable a whit, but rather Pachomius felt himself so compund therewith, and inflamed with divine Love, as he determined, without delay, to renounce the world, & to consecrate himself to a monastical life. And having heard of a famous Hermit, called Palemon, that dwelled in those deserts, he went his ways to him, to submit himself to his discipline.   

S. Pachomius craves of Palemon to be received into his discipline, and is admitted: with the manner of their lives together. Chap. 2.  
THis Palemon for years was very grave, severe of countenance, & so rigid and mortified in his conversation, as by many he was judged to be inimitable. So soon as he heard then, one knocking at his cell, opening the door, he said to Pachomius. Who art thou? and what seeks thou? To whom the good young man answering: God sends me to you to be admitted into your estate of life. The old man replied. This is no work for you, not so easy as you think; for some three or four others, have come hither likewise that have not been so well able to stand to it afterwards. Then Pachomius: All men are not made of the same mould. Do you receive me, and in time (I trow) you shall be cleared in that point. I have told you already (replied the Hermit) that you cannot brook the labour. Go your ways then first to do penance in some other place: and if you shall then think yourself able to endure it, do you come to me, & then perhaps I shall accept of you. Because indeed my manner of living (for to tell it you) is very sharp, and difficult. I sustain my self (God be thanked) with no other thing, than bread and s●…lt. Neither wine nor oil ever enters into my mouth. Half of the night, or there about, do I spend, part in prayer, part in reading, and ruminating the divine Scripture.  
These and the like words, though delivered. with a harsh voice, and a horrid brow, were not sufficient to terrify the constant Pachomius, but rather, as a little water spurted on a great fire, enkindled such a flame in his breast, as with much reverence, he most cheerfully affirmed, that he felt in his mind, a firm belief, that the divine Goodness, by means of the intercession of the same Palemon (whose life was a mirror to all Mortals) would make him a disciple not unworthy of so noble a Master. From such perseverance, united with like piety, the Anchoret, now easily gathered, that Pachomius had an extraordinary feeling, and a manifest vocation of God. Whereupon, having now some confidence of a happy success, without more ado, he admits him into his Cell, and gives him his habit. And from thence, they began to live together, spending the greater part of the time in devotions, and the ●…est, in twisting of Camel's hair, and making of sacks, and that not to pick out money for their own profit, but to relieve the poor with, as the Apostle counsels.  
At night then, in time of prayer, and Psalms, if Palemon perceived the disciple to be somewhat pressed with sleep, taking him forth of his Cell, with a basket in hand, he would employ himself with him, in carrying of heaps of sand, to and fro, until such time, as the superfluous vapours of the body being dispersed by this means, he might come to be prompt, & nimble again, and have the spirit now throughly awaked; and would beside be admonishing him, saying: be you sober and attentive O Pachomius, that you be not overcaught by the Tempter, and all our labours prove not to be in vain. But the servant Novice, gave not much occasion unto spurs and incitements, and the holy Father exulted in himself, and glorified the Divine Clemency, to see him become every day, more obedient than other, to see him more addicted to mortification, and abstinence, he not sparing in the mean while to go always before him, with a lively, and continual example.  
So as once upon Easter day, Pachomius to solemnize that Feast, having dressed him a little Oil, seasoned with salt, when Palemon saw him to reach it to him, suddenly striking his forehead, & casting forth a deep sigh, with tears he said: My Lord was put on the Cross, he was loaden with iniuryens, cuffs, and buffets, in his greatest thirst he was made to drink both Vinegar and Gaul, and shall I be pampered here, and be soothing my palate which oiled meats? Nor with all the instance, and intreatyes, that Pachomius could use by any means, he would seem to break his Fast, vn●…ll such time, as that seasoned Oil being taken away, and some other brought him which was pure, and simple (in blessing it first, with the sign of the Cross, and rendering most humble thanks to the high Creator for it) he finally fell to. In such like acts Pachomius continually beheld himself, as in a glass: and as from the excellency of the Master, he was hourly encouraged more to follow the good; so from others defects, became he always more cautious to beware the evil.   

The judgement of God showed upon a Monk. S. Pachomius found'st a Monastery, and Palemon dies. Chap. 3.  
AN audacious Monk but ill founded in the knowledge of himself, and human frailty, came on a time to see Palemon and Pachomius, while they had made by chance a very good fire: & after he had sat down with them a pretty while, entertaining themselves with spiritual discourses, arising on a sudden, said to Palemon: if you, and your disciple have true Faith, show me here some evangelical experience thereof, and make your prayer, here barefoot, upon these burning coals. Palemon reprehending him for it, and advising him, not to suffer himself to be deceived so by the enemy; he puffed up with greater pride, and presumption, went voluntarily upon the Coals, and the Divine Majesty, permitting it so, the Devil had power to preserve him without hurt at all. Whereupon that miserable Wretch, with malapert insolency, upbraiding Palemon and Pachomius, with saying: where was their faith? went his ways very proud, from thence. But it was not long, ere he paid very sound for it.  
For first, being deluded by the ancient Adversary with lascivious shapes, and thereupon very grievously struck and afflicted, he repaired again, after some days to Palemon, with sighs confessing his error, saying: Know that I am undone, for not having obeyed you, and now I do pray you, to succour me, with your prayers, for that I stand in great danger, to be slain of the infernal Enemy. The wretch was yet a speaking, and Palemon and Pachomius a weeping for compassion; when lo, on a sudden, the devil assaults him, takes him out of the Cell, and like a savage beast, chàsing him a good while through the Crags, and Mountains, finally in the City, which is called Pun, took away his wits, so as he cast himself headlong into a furnace of a bath, where suddenly he died.  
S. Pachomius being admonished with these so horrible, & strange accidents, from thence learned to fear the judgement of God, and to reinforce the guard upon his hart, by resisting the appetites, bridling anger, and the other passions, and endeavouring to found himself, by all means, in true humility. Besides, when he read or recited any things of the sacred scripture, he posted not in haste, as many are wont, but tasting, and ruminating the sentences, & precepts, one by one, he sought to derive profit from them, and to serve the Highest with fit attention. Being often sent barfoote, to make wood, in a certain forest, very full of sharp thorns, while he ●…elt his flesh to be torn, and wounded, he would be suffering all the dolours thereof with alacrity, in remembering the Nails, which pierced the sacred feet and hands of our Lord and Saviour Christ jesus, & continually treating with God in those solitary places would he pray for himself, and for all human kind, that he might be preserved from the snares of the common Adversary. In sum, with these manner of Exercises, was he arrived to such a point of perfection, as the Master himself remained much comforted, and astonished thereat.  
It happened to him afterwards, on a time, by a certain occasion, to arrive at the Island, and Town of Tabenna; where, being in a long, and profound Prayer, he heard a vouce to say to him: Pachomius, stay here, and set up a Monastery in this place, because many shall come unto thee with desire to be saved whom thou shalt guide according to the instruction which I shall give thee. And with this, an Angel appeared, and gave him a Table, wherein the same Institute was contained, which for many ages afterwards, the Monks of Tabenna observed. Then Pachomius, with the discretion of spirits which he had purchased, very clearly perceived, that as well the vision, as the Rule was a heavenly thing: and receiving the same with great Reverence, he went to his Master, and communicated the whole with him: beseeching him to be pleased, to put to his helping hand, in the execution of what, had been ordained him, by the Angel. And though Palemon otherwise, would very unwillingly have left his ancient Cell, notwithstanding to comfort so good and virtuous a disciple, he was persuaded to go thither, and they both set up there a poor habitation, in form of a Monastery. But it was not long, ere Palemon, being now spent, partly with old age, and partly with maceration of the body, arrived to the end of his days; and Pachomius, as in life he had always obeyed, and served him, with exquisite diligence; so after death, with extraordinary feeling, buried him, with his own hands, with a great deal of Lamentation, but not without Canticles and Hymns.   

A Brother of S. Pachomius joins himself with him in his manner of life; and what followed. Chap. 4.  
AFter this, a natural Brother of S. Pachomius, becoming a Christian, and called by the name of john, being likewise touched with a laudable desire of a perfect life, came to seek him, and to inhabit with him. They remained full fifteen years together continually exercising themselves, in acts of religion, & penance. At the end whereof, while now it seemed to Pachomiuhs, it would not be long, ere that came to effect, which had been promised him of the multiplication of Monks, he began anew, to enlarge the dwelling, to be able to receive them all. This fact of his, was displeasing to john, and as he, who was the elder in years, and perhaps, knew not, or not fully believed, what was signified to Pachomius from Heaven, esteemed such a building, to be against Poverty, and therefore reprehended his Brother, somewhat bitterly for it, saying, he should cease from committing such follies, so to seek to enlarge himself, more than needed. To which words, though he answered nothing, yet did he in wardly think upon the and after having some remorse at such a thought, retiring himself at night in the new building, he puts himself into bitter Laments and turning himself to God, with great dolour cried out in this manner.  
Alas, that the prudence of the world, should be yet continually reigning in me! I am still a carnal man, and after so many years of Religious warfarre, do I yet suffer myself to be vanquished by wrath, under a colourable pretext of good. Mercy Lord, lest I utterly perish, because that if thou establish me nor, in thy patience, and that the Enemy come to find somewhat of his in me, I shall be subject to him, since it is written: That if any one but fail in one, he is made guilty of all. I believe thy benignity is exceeding great, help me Lord, & I shall walk in the way of thy Elect; advancing myself always forward, & forgetting quite what remains behind. Even as they likewise through thy grace, have done, to their everlasting praise, and crown, but to the great affliction, and utter confusion of the adversary: otherwise, how shall I be able to instruct those, whom thou saidst, thou wouldst give me in charge, if first I shall not subdue the passions, which by means of the flesh, make war against the spirit, and if I shall not have learned to observe thy Law inviolable? But I hope Lord, through the help of thy high and mighty hand, I shall do that, which may like thee best, and thou pardon all my defects.  
In such accusations of himself as these, joined with bitter plaints, with burning prayers, and with solid purposes, spent he all that night, & at the apearing of the day he found on the ground, a certain dirt which was there caused through the continual tears, that streamed from his eyes; as also with the excessive sweat, which tricked down from all his body. Nor let any one seem to attribute this, to an exaggeration of words: for that besides the humour, which contrition wrong from him, and affliction of mind; it was then likewise the season of Summer, and the place of its nature was exceeding hot: nor was the servant of God, then making his prayer in a careless kind of composition of body, but either on his knees, or prostrate, or bolt upright, with the arms erected & distended in form of a Cross, without letting them once to fall, or leaning himself to any thing, until the time he had purposed to himself; and this, as well to suffer something with Christ, and for Christ, as by that means to keep his mind more vigilant, and attentive.  
With this sacrifice of an humble and penitent hart, he obtained so much favour from heaven, as for the time to come, he persevered with his Brother, in marvellous Peace, and Patience: and as soon as he passed into a better life, he interred him, with all due piety, & with the wont Exequyes. Fron hence, remaining quite alone, as he had but then entered into the Wilderness, he gave himself with a fresh vigour to his accustomed spiritual exercises, not forbearing the while, like another No●…, to be building the Ark for those, that were to be saved therein, according to the Angelical prediction, which howbeit slow in coming to pass, yet was he certain, it would not fail.   

S. Pachomius is tempted by Devils in sundry sorts. He sees a vision; & many repair unto him, to be admitted into his Institute. Chap. 5.  
IN the mean time S. Pachomius was very grievously molested by Hellish Monsters, being all inflamed with Envy against him, & desirous to put any obstacle soever to so great a good; so as putting in practice whatsoever was permitted them, with diverse apparitions and strange phantasms, they sought to affright the servant of God. Among other on a time, being about to kneel to his Prayers, the earth on a sudden fell a gaping before him, in form of a deep Cistern, to swallow him up. At other times, returning from the more remote deserts, where sometimes through desire of greater solitude, he was accustomed to retire himself; upon the sudden, the same perverse spirits were before him, marching as it were in order of battle, and saying with a loud voice: Give place to the Man of God. They endeavoured likewise to shatter the new building in such sort, as it seemed they would have turned it topsy-turuy from the very foundations. Besides, sitting on a day at some handy work, after he had made his prayer, there seemed a Cock to be represented to him of an unmeasurable greatness, which redoubling very fierce, and horrible crowings, adventured from time to time to fly in his face, and with the claws, and spurs most cruelly scratched him.  
These, and other affrights and injuries S. Pachomius, being full of a high confidence in God, very easily repelled, now with the sign of the most holy cross, now with some verse of the sacred Psalter. Whereupon the malignant spirits, perceiving the way of fear, succeeded not with them; turned themselves by agreement to tempt him, with laughter, in showing themselves very busy & earnest to remove certain leaves of a tree thereby, tying them with great ropes, and exhorting one another to pull hard, with voices and united forces, much after the manner, as Carpenters are wont to do, when they lift some huge piece of timber. But this trick of theirs, was not any whit sufficient to move the gravity, and constancy of the Christian Philosopher; but rather sighing, instead of ●…aughter, and setting his mind on the Crucifix, he attended to prosecute the exercise in hand, in such wise, as the powers of darkness, being thus scorned by a mortal man, and put to confusion, went their ways.  
But yet for all this, they ceased not afterwards, to renew the battle again, by taking the habit and form of beautiful women and endeavouring to sit down at the Table with the Man of God in time of refection, and to be impudently putting their hands into that poor fare, which he had before him; when seeing themselves to be hourly vanquished and despised, changing their figures by divine dispensation to the greater crown of the Saint, they afflicted him more than once with sundry pains & cruel torments. Wherein as he, through the help of Christ, remained always, victorious; so according to the saying of the Scripture, it often happened, that he walked, and that without hurt, upon venomous beasts; and which is more, being to pass the River of Nilus, when need was, the Crocodiles themselves, instead of a bark, would securely be wasting him over.  
With such proofs, and so glorious victories, S. Pachomius now being arrived to the highest degree of hope and charity, the Angel appeared to him anew, and said to him: God is pleased, O Pachomius, with thy service, and would have thee reconcile the Gentiles unto him. When not many days after, some persons, desirous to save their Souls, and glutted with the world, began to repair unto him from diverse places, who benignly received them all, but yet gave them not the Monastical habit, till first he had proved every one with a long and exact probation.  
The manner he held in the instructing of all together, and each one in particular, consisted, in keeping them free, and far off from all traffic, and transitory cares; and to unite them, first from the world, then from the having of things proper, and lastly from themselues. And forasmuch as to exhort others to the Cross, examples do move a great deal more, than words; he was the first in observing of Silence, in Edification, Lessons, Fasts, Vigils, and other labours, and austerityes of the Monastery, to prepare the Table, to cultivate the garden, to answer at the gate, to be serving of the Sick both night and day, and hence with loving advices, and remembrances withal, would he afterwards very easily conduct others, to live according to the obligation of such a vocation. It was not long ere the good odour, & same of this new Institute was spread every where, in such sort as the multitude of Monks, came soon to arrive to the number of a hundred.   

S. Pachomius highly regardeth the Clergy; and visits the great Athanasius. Chap. 6.  
Among these Monks, was not yet seen to be any Priest: whereupon when they were to communicate, some Priest was called for, of the neighbour Villages, so rare was Priesthood in those days, and held in the esteem it ought to be. And as for S. Pachomi●… he suffered not any of his disciples to ●…spire to such a dignity, or any other honours, or degrees at all, affirming that from like desire, do grow emulations, s●…rifes, and contentions; and added, that as a least sparkle of fire, falling in a barn, if not speedily oppressed, will unluckily consume the whole years' harvest: so Ambition, or the thought of a Clerkship, with what pretext soever it enter once int●… Cloisters, and be not suddenly extinguished, will come to put all the Religion in tumult, or ruin rather and utter destruction. Notwithstanding afterwards, if any one being a Priest already, should offer himself to follow the Rule, Pachomius would not refuse to accept him, and with such quality of persons, so carried himself, as how much more respectful, he showed himself towards them for the sacred Orders sake which they had taken; so much more humble & meek would they become through the Virtue, and example they saw in him.  
Besides that, he was full of Piety to all, especially towards th●… aged and infirm persons. To young men likewise, he would use discretion, dexterity, and longanimity to save their Souls, whereof he was marvelously zealous, & solicitous. And because not fat from his Convent, was a certain Village without a Pastor, and consequently deprived of the word of God, and the holy Communion, he dealt very charitably about the same with Aprion Bishop of Tentiri, in whose Diocese the said place was; and with his consent, set upon the building of a Church, where afterwards a Parish was appointed. And he in the mean time, not failed to go thither with some companions, to instruct them in the Christian doctrine, performing that exercise with such devotion, & with ●…o much grace, & composition of body and mind, as to the Seculars it seemed they ●…eard, and saw an Angel, and no mortal man, nor were the ●…aythfull only confirmed, by this means, but many Infidels likewise converted to the Faith. And as S. Pachomius received those who believed in the Gospel with extraordinary joy; so for the ●…osse of the obstinate and incredulous persons, he would seel ex●…reme dolour, and for the same be shedding of continual tears.  
At that very time, the great Athanasius had taken possession of the Bishoprique of Alexandria; & being gone in progress, as a good Pastor, in person to visit the Churches of Egypt, & especially of the ●…pper Thebais, and Sienna, by that occasion he was likewise to pass by Tabenna, when S. Pachomius knowing some part of the travails, and persecutions which the holy Bishop had suffered for the Catholic saith, went forth to meet him, in company of all his Monks with iubiley and festivity of Psalms, of Hymns, and Canticles. True it is, that having understood before hand, how means was made by the Bishop of Tentiri to Athanasius, for his promotion to a higher state, for not to be seen nor known by him, he hid himself of purpose, in the throng. Whether he spoke with him afterwards, or no, is not found written any where. But as this Chanpion of Christ, was a great friend, and much devoted to the Catholic Prelates; so could he not suffer so much as the name of Arrius and Meletius, and the other Heretics and schismatic to be mentioned of any by name: and for their writings he could not endure them by any means to be had o●… read of his Monks. He was likewise very cautious in forbidding them to murmur at all, especially against the Clerks and Prelates of the church, and if by chance they had fallen into such a default, he would suddenly oppose himself against them in ci●…ing some verses & sentences out of the holy Scripture to that purpose, together with the example of Mary the sister of Moses, so severely punished by God, for having murmured against her Brother. And finally by how much more sweet and pliable he was to all, in that which lawfully he might; so much more rigid, and inflexible he showed himself, where it stood not with the least point of the honour of God, or the Neighbour.   

S. Pachomius is visited by his Sister, who afterwards retires herself in●… Monastery. Chap. 7.  
SAint Pachomius kept himself wholly from the conversation & familiarity of his Parents, except when he had good hope to help them in Spirit. And therefore lastly being visited by a Sister of his, 〈◊〉 sent her answer by the porter in thes words. Behold thou hast heat I am yet alive: Go thy ways then, and take it not ill, that I let thee not see me. I will promise thee, that if thou wilt happily imita●… this manner of life of mine, to obtain together with me pardon & Mercy of our Lord, some fit dwelling or other shall be assigned thee in a convenient place to live in peace and silence, and by that occasion peradventure, it may happen the divine Goodness will o●… some other women likewise to do penance with thee, since in 〈◊〉 there is no other consolation on earth, then for one to do well, & to serve God.  
With this answer, the good woman was so compunct, as s●…e broke forth into plaints, and without more ado, determined to obey the counsel of her Brother; who according to promise, caused cer ta'en Lodgings to be built for her, not far from the Monastery very apt for the end pretended: wherein she exercising herself, according to the directions and orders of S. Pachomius, it was not long ere there came many other women likewise to her for the same purpose, who increasing continually in number, she was elected to be the Mother & Abbess of them. Whence he attended with more solicitude than ever to instruct them well, and to conduct them safely to a good Port.  
A certain venerable and discreet Father, called Peter, had the superintendency over that Convent, by commission of S. Pachomius, who at his times would visit, and exhort them to Perfection; and if it happened now and then to any Monk, having some kinswomen there to have occasion to go to any such, he was accompanied thither, by some ancient, and grave person, or other, of approved virtue: nor could he speak with such a one, but in the presence of the Mother, and some of the principal of the Monastery. To give, or take any thing with them, or else to eat, or drink in that place, under any pretext whatsoever, was wholly prohibited. When any of the Sisters came to dye, the others very decently composing the corpse, would depose it with Psalms in a determinate place, near ●…to the convent, Whence after the Monks would convey the same 〈◊〉 manner of procession, and bury it with devout prayers & accu●…omed Canticles in the hill near at hand. Through the fame of ●…ese things, a certain young youth (among others) of some four●…ene years old, by name Theodore, a Christian of noble Blood, be●…ag moved, gave himself likewise to the discipline of S. Pachomius, ●…y the occasion which I shall presently tell you.   

The history of Theodore, and how he and his Mother entered into the discipline of S. Pachomius.  
THeodore once on a festival day, beholding the riches, the delights, and the ornaments of his own house, felt himself sud●…enly to be interiorly moved by the divine grace, & began to dis●…ourse with himself in this manner, saying: What shall all these ●…ases, contentments, and momentary pleasures avail me (Wretch ●…s I am) if I come to be deprived of the Eternal? Forasmuch as ●…one for the present can attend to these, and in the future enjoy the ●…thers: and fetching suddenly a great sigh, retired himself into a ●…ore secret place of the house, where prostrate in tears, he said: 〈◊〉 Lord, who seest the secrets of hearts, thou knowest, I prefer not ●…ny thing of this life before thy love: vouchsafe then to illumine ●…e, so as I may be able to understand thy will; and that perfectly ●…xecuting the same, I may glorify, and praise thee forever.  
After this, refusing the commodities and the cherishments of ●…is Mother, he began to give himself seriously to abstinence, and ●…astings, with other mortifications and asperityes, wherein having ●…xercised himself for some two years together, he recollected him●…elfe in the company of some Servants of God. One of which, (the ●…espers being ended) discoursing according to the custom amongst ●…hem of spiritual things, he entered in, to speak of the Tabernacle, ●…nd of the Saencta Sanctorum, of the ancient Law; interpreting the exterior Tabernacle (as that which was of the manner of manufacture) to signify the first people of the jews; but that of the Sancta Sanctorum, should figure the vocation of the Gentiles, as having a more sumptuous and mystical entry with it; whence in the place of Sacrifices of beasts, and instead of the Thurible, of the Table, of the Ark, of the Candlestick, of the Propitiatory, and of all those other ancient symbols, for our salvation, hath succeeded the divine word itself: who assuming our human flesh, hath taken us from the pains of our sins, through the holy light of the Gospel, and with the satisfaction of his infinite merits.  
This said, he confessed he had heard this interpretation from the great Pachomius himself, who had lately gathered together good number of Monks in the Island of Tabenna, and governed them with marvellous discipline; and I hope (added he) that the mention of this Man of God, now made by me, may impetrate for us some indulgence of our sins. The good Monk had scarce finished his discourse, when Theodore was inflamed with the relation made, with an exceeding desire of knowing S. Pachomius by sight, and to give himself wholly to be governed by him. In so much, as a virtuous and good Old man, called Pecusius, being come thither from Tabenna, for to visit that Congregation there, was by Theodor entreated at his return, with great affection, he would be pleased to conduct him with him to the blessed Pachomius, as he did with a very good will, and being arrived at the holy place, the youth, not being able to contain himself from tears of joy, was received by him with a great deal of charity, and numbered with the others; when in a short time, he profited so much in all manner of virtues, as S. Pachomius himself, did wonder at it.  
There was afterwards an occasion presented to make the constancy and fervour of this Novice more renowned. In regard the Mother, being now become a widow, and not brooking the absence of her son; came to Tabenna in person, bringing letters from the Bishops with express order to have him restored her again. here now, she being received by the Nuns, as a guest, she speedily sent the letters to S. Pachomius, urging the execution thereof. When the servant of Christ, having called Theodore to him, said to him in this sort: I understand thy Mother is come to see thee, behold the Letters of the Bishops, which she hath brought me, for that end. Go thy ways then, and comfort her, especially for the Prelate's sakes who have recommended it to me. Theodore answered. Do you give me security then, Reverend Father, that this little edification, which I shall give unto others, with such an interview, be not imputed to me, at the day of judgement? Forasmuch as if in the times before grace, the children of Levi, did quite forsake their Parents, howbeyt most dear unto them, for to serve the Lord God wholly: how much rather should I, that have received so great mercy and light from the ●…ame Lord God, keep myself from preferring in any wise the affection to flesh, before the love, and service of his divine Majesty? seeing our Saviour hath said openly to us: He that loves his Father, or Mother more than me, is not worthy of me. Then S. Pachomius declared himself better unto him, with saying: If it seem not expedient to thee my Son, I will not urge thee to it, but rather confess the other to be of more perfection; because indeed the Monk is to fly all worldly commerce, and be loving, with an ordinate affection, & without passion, all those who through faith, are members of Christ. And if any would seem to oppose, that he may not desist from wishing well to his own blood, let him note that saying of the Scripture, That every one becomes the slave of him, that vanquitheth him.  
By this manner of speech, the good Youth, being now confirmed more, and more, would by no means, show himself to his Mother. And it pleased our Lord, through this austerity of his, that she remained so astonished and moved to devotion as she determined likewise herself to leave the world, and with the approbation of S. Pachomius, was received into the number of the Servants of Christ. Whence may be gathered, that things being done to the greater glory of God, howbeit in the beginning sometimes, they may seem perilous and bitter: yet nevertheless through divine disposition, do they produce many times most sweet fruits.   

The Grief which S. Pachomius took for the lapsed: Together with this Discretion, and Patience in all occasions. Chap. 9  
FRom these, and other such like successes, look how much consolation S. Pachomius took in our Lord; so much grief and sorrow felt he for the ill proceeding of some, who tired with labour, & to much given to carnal prudence, would never throughly renounce themselves, nor be desployed of the old man. The holy Man would seek to help such by all means possible, but in vain. Because they, partly not knowing how to deny their proper will; partly affrighted with the difficulty of virtue, and with the examples of the pennances and Mortifications which they saw in others; finally being vanquished by the spirit of pusillanimity, and vain fear, did suffer themselves to be carried from the port, into the dangerous tempests of the world: Yet this departure of theirs was not altogether unprofitable to others, since the field of our Lord hee●…pon, being purged from weeds and cockle, became continually more pleasant and fruitful. And beside, from thence might be gathered, how that even as the austerity of the Monastical life do●… not hurt Seculars, if they will but help themselves with it, in some part; so neither the advice, good carriage, nor the Prayers of others do benefit Monks, if they resolve not to shake of quite, very manfully all manner of Sloth and Cowardice.  
But to conserve, and to promote Men of good disposition, one of the principal industryes of this great Lover of the Cross, was, not to permit, that in the treating of his person, should be used particularityes with him, of any sort whatsoever, as we shall see by the ensuing acts. He being gone on a time, in company of some Mon●… to reaping in an Island called Threa (where every one had built him a hovel to retire himself to, in due times) the good Father, whether it were, through age, or with overmuch work, fell sick of a fever, and Theodore, in his cold fit, being ready to cover him with▪ Shepherds mantle woven with hair, S. Pachomius would by n●… means suffer it, but willed him to take it away suddenly, and to cover him only with a Mat, as the custom was to do with others; which done, Theodore brings him a handful of dates, exhorting him to refresh himself with them: Whereat the good Father, with tears in his eyes, replied.  
Why, Theodore, because we have power over the labours of our Brethren, and to us the care belongs to provide and distribute the portions among them; should we therefore at our pleasure, and without any regard be treating of ourselves in this sort, or be taking of any thing superfluous, or out of time, and common custom? And where should our holy Fear be then, if we should do so? For tell me; Brother, have you run through all the hovels, & certified yourself, that there is no other sick body, more necessitous than I▪ deceive not yourself so, Theodore, iniquity is abominable in the sight of God, not only in great, but even also in smaller matters. If others then, with divine help, can patiently suffer afflictions, and discommodities; why should not I seem to suffer the same? And with this answer, he sent the Disciple a way exceedingly edified and instructed. S. Pachomius likewise had obtained of our Lord, together with the discretion of spirits, that same likewise of the Infirmities, so as he could very well distinguish, which proceeded from natural causes, and which from the operation of the Enemy; who many ●…ymes, for to ●…hinder the divine service, is wont to alter the humours of human bodies, and to cause indispositions in them. Whereupon S. Pachomius being assailed on a time in the Monastery with a most grievous fever; it seemed to him very requisite, to cause him thereby increase his abstinence (since by this means for five ●…ontinuall days, he remained without eating and drinking) but ●…et slacked not a whit to rise in the mean time unto Prayer. Wherewith, being cured, he went with the rest into the Refectory, giving ●…hankes to the Eternal Goodness.  
But yet with all this rigour, which he used with himself, let ●…o man think, he was hard or merciless towards others, but rather (as hath been said above) was he wonderful tender, and compas●…ionate to all, and afforded all possible succours to relieve their ne●…essityes. Besides that, as far as reason of government would permit, setting all arrogancy a part, he would be showing himself equal, or rather inferior to all. In so much, as being weaving on a ●…yme, and controlled by a child with saying, Father, you work not ●…ight, for lo, our master weaves not in that manner; he arose up suddenly from his seat, and whereas another would either have seemed, as if he had not heard him, or have chastised his little modesty: The holy Old Man with a cheerful countenance, approaching to the Master, and quietly taking instruction from him, went suddenly to execute the same, with singular humility, and with the great edification of as many as were present. With these and such like things not only particular and profane men; being now invited at last, but even whole congregations likewise of other Monks, came to join, and submit themselves to S. Pachomius, to whom with equal charity, he afforded Rules, and Superiors.   

The History of jonas the Monk in the desert there. And S. Pachomius his solution of a doubt. Chap. 10.  
IN one of those Monasteryes, called Muchosa, there was a Religious man whose name was jonas a man of so great perfection & fame as we cannot choose but step a little from our purpose, to say something of him. This Religious person had continued in the divine Service, and in the cloister, some 85. years, with very good example: and it is a memorable thing, that he having alone had always care of the garden, and therein had planted diverse trees, ye●… he never had tasted to his death, so much as one fruit of them, being notwithstanding very frank thereof to the Brothers, and to the Guests, and to all the Neighbours about, who at their pleasure we●… satisfied with them. His clothing as well for summer, as winter, was of three sheep skins, sowed together, save only, to go to the holy Communion, he would put over a coat, somewhat more decent, but being then risen from the sacred table, he would presently despoil himself thereof; and so had he conserved it near and clean, for all that space of 85. years.  
He was so great a friend of Labour, as he knew not, as it were what Rest was, nor yet the Infirmary. He never eat any boiled thing: he lived upon herbs chopped in vinegar: He never lay stretched forth in length, but laboured by day in the garden, & at the setting of the Sun, taking his refection, he would retire himself into his cell, and sitting on a stool in the midst of the room, attend to the knitting of bulrushes, and to make ropes, until the ringing to Office; shutting his eyes sometimes, scarcely as much as necessity required. And this his work he performed, not by the light of a Lamp, or of fire, but through much practice and dexterity, wholly by dark, for to be able in the mean time, the better to attend to the Meditation of holy Scripture, whereof he had committed a good part to memory.  
We let pass besides, many other marvellous things of this holy Man, for brevityes sake, but yet we may not seem to pass over in silence, the manner of his last act. Because he was found by the Mō●… stark dead to sit in his Cell, with rushes in his hands (according to his wont) & with his feet and arms stretched forth, & stiff withal in such sort, as they would not seem to change that composition of his, nor to pull off his furrd coat from his back, but were feign so to sold him, as in a truss; and in that manner were they glad to carry him to be buried.  
But now let us return again to S. Pachomius, who never ceased with words and deeds to inflame and guide his disciples to Perfection: exhorting them sometimes, and sometime again resolving their doubts, with a great deal of wisdom, and no less charity. He was demanded once (among other things) by one of hi●… Monks; What was the cause, that while a man, is in peace before temptation, he discourseth so well of Temperance, Humility, and other Virtues; and when the time of execution comes afterwards 〈◊〉 put that in practise which was in discourse, we find ourselves so ●…ayle and feeble to perform the same? As for example, in the time 〈◊〉 Anger, to show acts of Patience; in bitterness and rancour, to be ●…rgetfull of injuries received; when we are paysed of others, to be ●…ary of vainglory; in these (I say) and other the like occurren●…es? Then the Saint: The reason is (answered he) for that, we ●…now not how to prepare ourselves, nor to meditate as we ought, ●…or to keep the spirit prompt and vigilant in the time of battle. Whence it behoves us every day, and every hour, with a fresh re●…olution to renew our good purposes, and to power into the con●…ēplatiue part of the Soul, the oil of holy fear, which may serve ●…s well to reinforce it to do good, as to illumine the same to dis●…erne, and distinguish the Objects, which are represented to it by ●…he wily and subtle Adversary. In such wise, as standing continually upon its guard, it suffer not itself to be easily moved to disdain, ●…orrancour, nor to other disordinate passions: and besides that, raising itself aloft, and thinking of invisible, and eternal things, it may come to assume great courage, and consequently to contemn all diabolical suggestions, and finally to walk (as the Scripture saith) upon Serpents, and Scorpious, and above all the powers of the Enemy.  
With such advertisements, and counsels went S. Pachomius opportunely encouraging, and instructing his Subjects. And howbeit in amending their defects, he would more willingly be using of sweet remedies and lenitives, as more conformable to his proper genius, and to Christian clemency; notwithstanding, when it was expedient for him, he knew well also, how to apply more bitter and biting medicines; as by reading this ensuing discourse the judicious Reader may easily perceive.   

The life of Silvanus the Monk: And what a blessed end he made, through the help of S. Pachomius. Chap. 11.  
SAINT Pachomius had in his Convent, a certain Monk called Silvanus. This man in the world had been a Comediant, and of a life (as commonly such persons are) very wild and dissolute. Whereupon, at his entrance into Religion, S. Pachomius had particularly exhorted him to stand upon his guard, and to maintain himself sober, and vigilant, that he might not be carried away with sensuality, and the devil, to vices, and levityes past. And so had he promised to do: then he took the habit, and indeed so walked he, as long as the fervour of devotion lasted; but afterwards, through weariness of combating, and subtraction of grace (as it happens, for one to be tepid without being, as it were, aware of it) so began he by little and little to grow loser in his conversation, and to return to his secular jests, and scoffs, as before. S. Pachomius ga●… him many wholesome admonitions, which being not enough, 〈◊〉 likewise added sundry severe chastisements: and at last, while 〈◊〉 seemed to him to be incorrigible, some twenty years after he had received him, he ordained in the presence of all the Monks, that he should be stripped of his habit, and thrust our of the Congregation.  
Whereat Silvanus being wholly confounded and contrite, did cas●… himself at the feet of the Saint, with saying: Pardon me, Father, ye●… for this time, for I hope in our Saviour, that he will grant me tru●… Penance, and to your Paternity much consolation in my action●… To whom S. Pachomius answered: Thou knowest, how I have borne with thee all this while, how many chasticements have I both against my will and custom inflicted upon thee? since than neither with fair means, nor yet with foul, thou wilt amend thyself, how can I, or how should I permit so contagious and infected a member, should go wasting thus, and consuming the whole body of Religion? To this so bitter an answer, Silvanus replied, with new humiliations and promises. And yet S. Pachomius stood firm in his purpose, till being convinced with the perseverant submission of the other, he required pledges, which might give security of his change of manners. When immediately a venerable man, by name Petronius, being moved out of Charity, took the Obligation upon him; and full of divine confidence, gave his word, that Silua●… should be renewed in spirit, and should give himself seriously to the exercise of virtue. With this intercession was S. Pachomius content to prolong his term. Nor was the grace afforded in vain, or the promise any way temerariously made, since from that time, Silvanus began to wage a sharp war with himself, and to go forward in such sort, as in a short time, he became a mirror of perfection to all the Convent, having got (among other things) so great a gift of tears, as they streamed from his eyes, like a perpetual river: so as, neither in the presence of strangers, nor at the Table, could he possibly contain himself from them: While that saying of the Psalm agreed with him; Cinerem tamquam pa●… manducabam, & po●… meum cum fletu miscebam.  
He was instanced by some, that if he could not abstain alto●…ather, yet by all means at least, he would forbear in the pre●…nce of the Guests. When he affirmed, he had endeavoured the ●…me many times, but not by any means could he refrain; they ●…swered, that a devout soul may well abide always with in●…rnall compunction, without breaking into open demonstration ●…erof; and in sum, they brought him to repress them in time 〈◊〉 refection, because many being confounded, & moved with such ●…spectacle, refrained from taking their necessary nourishment: when ●…luanus not being angry with any other than himself only, with ●…reat feeling, broke forth into those words; Would you have me to ●…int my tears (I pray) in seeing so many Saints, with whom I 〈◊〉 not worthy to be numbered, to attend upon me, most vile wretch ●…ith so much diligence, having been accustomed heretofore to ●…ayne my living on the Stage? Whereas rather, I deserve not to ●…sse the very place, where they set their feet. I weep indeed, as ●…aring every hour, lest the earth should swallow me up, as once 〈◊〉 happened to the profane Dathan and Abiron: since I having had ●…om Heaven, both light and grace, more than enough, should have 〈◊〉 them so ill, & have reaped so little fruit. Then am I not through ●…ame to forbear from discoveting myself to be a sinner, since for ●…uch indeed do I acknowledge myself to be. Whereas truly if I ●…hould lay down my life in doing penance for the same, yet were ●…t nothing in comparison of my demerits.  
With such like answers, Silvanus stopped the mouths of such, as ●…ealt with him about this matter: nor was it contrition of words ●…nly, as often it happens, but his sayings and works accorded in ●…uch manner, as S. Pachomius himself being full of marvel there●…t, for true humility preferred him before all in the Monastery; and within eight years afterward, was certified, how be was nothing deceived, when he beheld that Soul going forth of the body, to ●…ly unto Heaven, with a great troop of glorious Angels in company with it. This than was the fruit, which sprung from the seasonable rigour of S. Pachomius: and no less worthy of memory likewise, was another act of severity of his, which we will put down in the Chapter following.   

How a Monks was penanced by S. Pachomius for Vain glory, and anoth●… for Disobedience. Chap. 12.  
IT happened on a time, while S. Pachomius was sitting in company with other grave Fathers, that a Brother who had made tha●… day two mats, with double the labour he was obliged to do by th●… Rule, being overcome with vain glory would by no means contain himself, but needs must he set them forth to view, at his cell, right over against the place, where S. Pachomius was, as thinking verily to have been much praised and esteemed of him for his diligence therein: whereof the wise Pastor being aware, fetching a deep sigh, said to the standers by: behold I pray, this Brother hee●… who hath been labouring all this while from the Morning hither to, to dedicate afterwards all his sweats to the Devil, without leaving any merit or fruit thereof for his own soul, since he hat●… had for end, the satisfaction of men, rather than the pleasure of God.  
Heerupon, causing him to come before him, he gave him a sound reprehension for it; and to the end, he might learn to rectify the intention, in whatsoever he should work hereafter, enjoined him in penance, that while the Brothers were in prayer, he holding both those mats in his hands, should cry unto them, with a low voice: I beseech you Brothers, to pray for this miserable soul of mine, which hath preferred two small mats before the Kingdom of Heaven. And in the same manner, caused him to stand in the Refectory, till the Table was ended: and for addition shut him up in his Cell, for five months space, with order that no man sho●… visit him the while, & that he should eat nothing, but bread and salt. Such account was made in those days of purity of hart, and to fly those sins, which in our age, peradventure, are accounted very venial and light. And if yet this chastisement, perhaps, shall seem to any to be too disproportionate to the fault, let him know, that to the Man of God, there wanted no sufficient motives for the same.  
The holy Abbot, made great account also of sincere Obedience, which especially consists in simply executing what is commanded, without curiously examining the designs of the Superiors, nor putting into controversy the quality of the thing commanded. Now, he having committed to some Officers, that while he went on a certain Pilgrimage they should have some respect to the tender age of certain Novices, who were not able to perform so much abstinence, as the other: It happened, the same Officers, perceiving the Community had not eaten the herbs, and Olives, which were boiled, had given over to provide any more of them, contenting themselves with distributing of dry bread only, to ●…ll the Refectory. S. Pachomius returned, and all the Monks, being gone forth to meet with him, and to receive him; one of the ●…nnocents, began to say with a loud voice. Verily Father, since ●…he time, that you went from hence, to this day, hath there been ●…o herbs boiled for us. To whom the Saint answered, with a cheerful countenance. Trouble not yourself (my Son) for I will provide for you. Entering then into the kitchen, and the Cook being busy in knitting of rushes, he said to him, in this manner: Tell me Brother, how long since is it, that you boiled any herbs? It is now some two Months ago (answered he;) and being demanded the reason, he allegeth, that scarce any of them had eat thereof, when they were before him, but only the youths: whereupon, he had a scruple to bestow so in vain, both the labour, and the cost: And to the end, this same might not be imputed as Sloth unto him, he had employed himself in the mean time with his fellows, to work the Mats. And how many have you made of them, demanded S. Pachomius? Some 500 answered he. Now bring them hither then to me (said the Father.) Which being brought, he caused them suddenly to be all cast into the fi●…e: giving clearly to understand by that act of his, and with the words he spoke to that purpose, that as it is the proper office and praise of the Superior, to moderate and discern: so from the subject, is not required so much prudence, and circumspection, as a prompt execution, and perfect Obedience. To this example, the same also was not much unlike, which follows in the next Chapter.   

How two Stewards of S. Pachomius, were checked by him, for doing against Obedience. Chap. 13.  
THere happened so great a dearth of corn, as scarcely was any to be found, throughout all the Land of Egypt. Which S. Pachomius well knowing, sent one of the Brothers, to make his provision thereof as much as an hundred pieces of gold, of a certain coin, was able to procure him, being taken out of common stock of the Labours of the Monastery. The procurator or Steward went his ways there with, into diverse foreign parts, without finding the desired commerce, till lastly arriving at the city of Hermothen, it pleased our Lord, that he should meet by chance with an honest Gentleman, who had the whole corn of the country in his custody. This man, being required of the Monk, so much corn, as might amount to the said sum, answered: Truly Father, I have not any of mine own, but if I had, I would take it from my children's mouths, to spa●…e it for you, whose virtue, and holy life, hath now a good while since, been notified to me. But hark you Father, I have yet now the public grain under my charge, which hitherto the Magistrates have not seemed to require at my hands, nor do I think, they will demand it, till the new be gotten in. If you suppose by that time, you can restore it me again, do you take thereof, as much as you please. When the Monk told him, how he durst not undertake to return it so soon; but if it seemed to him, that he might well dispose thereof, as he had said, he would willingly take a quantity to the value of the price aforesaid of a hundred pieces.  
I shall not only afford you so much (replied the Commissary) but even likewise as much more, if it please you to accept the same. Do me but only the favour the while to pray for me. Whereto the buyer made answer, that for the present, he had no more money to bestow. When the other very courteously affirmed, that it imported nothing, but he might take the grain with a good will, and yield him the price thereof at his commodity, so liberal an offer seemed now to the Monk, not fit to be refused. Wherefore he suddenly freightes a great bark therewith of some thirteen Tun, so great indeed, as one half thereof, was not to be found else where in all those countries thereabout, & with great joy went his ways therewith to the Monastery, as thinking he had done some great piece of service to the whole company, and especially to S. Pachomius. But he was very much deceived in his account.  
Because the Saint had no sooner understood of the arrival of the bark, so laden, & known the manner how it came to be so freighted, but he sent a man to the wharfè in post, with express order, they should not unlade any whit thereof, saying: Let the Steward assuredly know, that not a gain of that corn of his, shall seem to enter into our house; nor shall his person appear before me, until he have satisfied the error committed, in so governing himself to ●…e led with avarice, in taking the same upon Credit, and abusing withal the goodness of him, that sold him the corn. Now there●…re since he hath so exceeded the precepts given, let him go suddai●…ely to all these neighbour-places, and sell the same according to ●…he price set him down by the seller; and having carried him the ●…mme, let him buy according to the price, so much, and no more ●…s he may have with the money which he received of us, for that ●…ffect. Which being executed, and no more than five measures & a ●…alf, conveyed to the house, the Monk was deprived of his Ste●…ard-ship, and restrained in the Monastery. Nor had the Procura●…ur yet much better success. Who was appointed to sell some of ●…e labours of the Monks, at a slinted rate how much he was to ●…ke for them. He went then to the inhabitants with those mer●…handize, and finding them to amount to thrice so much, as he was prescribed to take, it seemed to him a folly to put them away ●…or less, and so returned he his ways home, with his purse fuller, ●…hen was pretended. Which being understood, S. Pachomius made ●…im immediately to return into the Market, and to restore to the ●…uyers, all that, which exceeded the rate set down. Whereupon, ●…e like wise being deprived of his office, was shut up, and had a good penance enjoined him. With thes demonstrations the Saint, ●…t seems, besides the purity which he required in Obedience, would ●…ikewise manifest, how far off they are to be from all manner of ●…ouetousnes, who seem to manage the temporals affairs in Religion. But as this man of good; was an Enemy of tepidity, and of ●…usillanimity; so on the other side, approved he not immoderate fer●…ours, which ordinarily succeed but ill, and such was the event we shall presently tell you.   

An Example of the indiscreet ●…eale of a Monk of S. Pachomius; and the happy Life he led afterwards. Chap. 14.  
A Person there was of a good disposition, rather than of any great reach, who after he had attended a while to a spiritual ●…ife, of himself, came at last of his own accord (as others did) to submit himself, to S. Pachomius; nor was it ●…ere being pricked forward with excessive fervour, and youthful heat, he began very earnestly to instance the said holy Father to obtain him from heaven, some commodity, & occasion to spend his blood, for the Catholik●… faith. The world, at that time, was all in peace, and the Church of God enjoyed an unwonted tranquillity, through the devotion, & by the virtue of the most Christian Emperor Constantine. In so much as the importunity of the Monk, besides his being too bold in 〈◊〉 certain manner, came likewise to be unreasonable, and foolish withal. S. Pachomius then answered him, that forbearing for the present to think of Martyrdom, he might do well to convert his thoughts, to the taming of his Passions, & to combat with himself, alleging that in a sort he was deprived of the glory of Martyrs, who persevered to the end, in Cloisters, without reprehension.  
But that other, not satisfied herewith: and renewing oft the same request, S. Pachomius at last said to him. Since you will not ceas●… to provoke me so, I will pray for this thy intention, and I hope I shall be heard. But thou on the other side, beware that coming afterwards to the Trial, instead of confessing our Lord Christ, thou comest not to renounce him quite. Because in truth, thou dost bu●… delude thyself, so to tempt thy God, and thus to seek, those perils, which our Master and Saviour himself, hath taught us to shun. So said the expert Captain: But neither authority nor reasons, were of power to bridle the confidence, or to say better, the presumption of the Monk.  
From hence, within two years after, it chanced to S. Pachom●…, to send certain Brothers to a place, not far from thence, to prouid●… some marish rushes for mats and cottages, and a little after he sent the audacious Wretch thither also: & presaging, as it were, the encounter he was to meet withal on the way, upon his departure advised him to stand upon his guard; and in manner of an Enigma, added those words of S. Paul: Ecce nunc tempus acceptabile, ecce nunc di●… salutis: nullam in aliquo demus offensionem, ut non vituperetur ministerium nostrum. These marshes where the Monks were working, were situate at the feet of certain mountains, inhabited by savage & barbarous people, and continually drowned in Paganism: some of which, at that time being descended into the plain, to fetch water, found in those deserts, the poor Travayler alone; when causing him to a light on a sudden, they bind his hands, and lead him together with his Ass into the Mountain: at whose approach, the other Gentiles, who as then were ready to offer their sacrifice, and had killed many beasts for that purpose, began with great laughters to scorn him, saying: Come thy ways hither, O Monk, and ●…ore our Gods: and leading him before their Altar, they forced him ●…o do, as they did. At the first, he refused to do it, and showed them ●…ome resistance thereunto; but when the Pagans being angry, laid ●…ands on their weapons, and that he saw the poniard at his bosom, ●…nd the swords which glittered round about him, being now for●…etfull, in an instant of all the stout purposes made, the poor wretch ●…elded, and being terrified, stuck not to taste of the wine & flesh dedicated to Devils, being a thing which (as for the essential of Idolatry) was as much, as if he had offered incense with them.  
Hereupon, being licenced to depart by that wicked people while on the way, he had leisure enough, to enter into himself, looking back into the fowl enormous and impious crime commit●…ed, the unhappy wretch began to fill the air with laments & ●…ighes, and to lay on most furiously on his cheeks with his fist, & to curse his temerity, which had brought him into those terms. With this disaster, & with uncertain, and wandering paces, being now come home in this piteous plight, and beholding the said Pachomius to meet him on the way, who had the revelation of the whole event, falling down prostrate on the Earth, and weeping a main, he cried out aloud: I have sinned before God, and you, holy Father, with following my own will, and not obeying your counsels. Then replied S. Pachomius: Get up, poor Wretch, thou hast indeed deprived thyself of the chiefest good. Assuredly, the crown was already prepared for thee. Thou wast even ready to enter into the Catalogue of the glorious Martyrs of Christ, and thou willingly hast made thyself unworthy of that blessed fellowship. Our Lord was prepared with his Angels, to have environed thy head with an immortal Diadem, and thou hast renounced the Divine Majesty for a moment of life. And while thou fearedst the first death (which by no means shalt thou ever be able to avoid) art thou fallen into the second, which shall never have end. Where are the words now which thou utteredst once? Where the inflamed desire of suffering? Where those so many, and so great promises made?  
To this, the Wretch could not answer a word, nor open his mouth, any otherwise, then to detest his crime, and to confess himself, wholly unworthy of pardon; yea now was his affliction, passed so far, as he held himself altogether uncapable of penance: whereof S. Pachomius being suddenly aware, lest 〈◊〉 might cast himself head long into the gulf of despair added: tho●… for thy part, hast not failed to become the enemy of thy Creator & Lord; yet nevertheless, so great is that divine goodness of his, as it i●… able to drown in the Abysses all our sins whatsoever, so that 〈◊〉 our part, we dispose ourselves with true sorrow, and due con●…tion to be partakers of his mercies: wherefore be thou not dismai●… for yet is there left thee some hope of salvation, since the tree, though pruned, yet springs again. Go thy ways then into thy Cell, & stay there recluded in watching, and making thy prayer, & bewailing bitterly thy great offence. For a whole day thou shalt eat nothing, after that, shalt thou feed of nought else but bread sal●… and water: & not to eat of other men's labours, thou shalt mak●… thy two mats a day; & if thou shalt persever in this manner during life, I trust in the merits of Christ, thou shalt not be excluded from the divine Clemency.  
From these words, it cannot be explicated, what comfor●… this poor soul felt. He shuts up himself then suddenly, & redoubling the labours, fasts, and macerations of the body, gave himself to satisfy what he ought, with all the power he was able. It is tru●… indeed, that for his spiritual help, it was permitted him by the holy Abbot, to go forth sometimes to comfort him with Theodore, & with some other Old men of the perfectest. And thus having persevered for the space of ten years, being surprised at last by a most grievous infirmity, he changed the temporal miseries for the Eternal felicity, as S. Pachomius was afterward certified from Heaven. With whom God was wont to communicate things very far off, and hidden, and by his means to work other wonderful effects: as by the following Examples, we shall see in some part.   

A Woman cured of the bloody Flux, with other Miracles wrought by S. Pachomius. Chap. 15.  
THere was in Tentiri, a woman that suffered an incurable flux of blood: She having heard the renown of S. Pachomius his sanctity, and not having the audacity to deal with such a Father, she instantly prayed the Bishop Dionysius, that under the pretext of some other business of importance, he would procure him to come into the City. Having called him then, & after prayer, being set down ●…n the Church with him, while there they were discoursing with ●…ch other of divine things, the woman by little and little stealing ●…ehind them, touched his hood, with so much faith, as she suddenly ●…ecouered, and feeling herself to be wholly delivered, did prostrate ●…er self on the ground, giving thanks to the divine Mercy. S. Pa●…homius was aware of the practice had with him by the Bishop, & giving his benediction to the woman without more ado, returned ●…ack again to his Connent.  
There hath been already mention made of a certain Monk, of great fame, whose name was jonas, being the Gardener of the Mo●…astery of Muchosa. Now S. Pachomius being gone to visit the same Monastery, at his entry thither, espied some young Novices, that ●…ecretly had climbed up a figtree, which was very high, for to ga●…her of the fruit, & to eat them without any leave. When the Saint●…pproching ●…pproching nearer, perceiving a devil sitting on the top of the tree; ●…he expert Physician of souls, knew it presently to be the unclean ●…pirit of Gluttony, the familiar enemy, & impostor of that greener ●…ge; & calling for jonas without delay, appointed him to cut down ●…hat tree, since it stood not well within the cloisters, and did afford ●…ut matter of temptation to those, who were not yet so well roo●…ed in virtue. jonas was sad thereat, and answered; No, for God's sake Father, since every year it brings us forth no little fruit.  
Then S. Pachomius not to seem to disgust the good Old man (whose goodness otherwise he well knew) held his peace. But the day after, behold, how the Tree was withered; so as there was ●…eyther fruit, nor leaf, which was not dead thereupon: a thing so much more admirable, as the figtree of its nature, is more humid, ●…nd more repugnant to aridity. Whereupon, jonas comprehending ●…he virtue, and heavenly grace of the Saint, was very sorry, for not having obeyed him with all dexterity. On a day, as he was making an exhortation to his Monks, according to custom, he was suddenly elevated in spirit, and being a while in that manner, he afterwards whispered in the ears of the vicar. Go your ways into that next cell, and see what such a Monk is doing, since instead of attending to the word of God, he lies sleeping the while, exposed to the ●…ares of the Enemy, who seeks nothing else, but to draw him into ●…erdition, and the world. The vicar went thither, and found him ●…ery drowsy indeed. And a little after, notwithstanding they advices of the blessed Pachomius, though his negligence, the miser●… Wretch, forsook the Religion.  
Another, being now brought into the extremity of sickness i●… the Monaf●…ery of Cheneboscus, and desiring before he closed his ey●… to comfort himself with the sight of S. Pachomius, and to have 〈◊〉 holy Benediction; he sent to him, to beseech him that he would 〈◊〉 pleased to come unto him. At the news whereof, the amouro●… Father, very suddenly puts himself on the way thither, with so●… companions: and while with diligence they went walking together, some two or three miles before their arrival to the said place, S. Pachomius stopping on a sudden, stood looking up into the Heavens, and beheld the soul of the Brother, environed with Angel●… with a sweet harmony to mount up into Paradise. In the mean●… while, the companions, not hearing the Music, nor seeing 〈◊〉 triumph, said to the Father, who had his eyes still fixed on the Stars: Why stays your Paternity thus? let us make haste to find the Brother alive. Whereto he answered: Nay rather let us haste to arrive, whither he is now conducted, that is, to eternal beatitude. Whereupon they understood, he had a Vision of the Salvation 〈◊〉 the Soul, to represent it to them as well as he could. And dilig●… inquisition being afterwards made, it was found, the said sickm●… expired, even just at that hour, wherein S. Pachomius stood still i●… that manner.   

S. Pachomius procures through prayer, the gift of tongues. He falleth si●…k, & appoints his Successor, and so dieth. Chap. 16.  
SAint Pachomius on a time, visiting (as he was wont) his subiect●… to see how they carried themselves, and to demand particular account of profit, and conscience of every one, found himsel●… to be much perplexed with a certain strange Monk, of great reputation: who being come from the parts of Rome, by how much 〈◊〉 was more skilful in the Latin and Greek tongues, so muc●… more raw and ignorant was he in the Egyptian tongue. In such 〈◊〉 S. Pachomius, not having other language, than his own, it was impossible for him to declare himself to him, or to understand hi●… well. To which was added another impediment, that the Rom●… Monk, being desirous to discover to the holy Pastor, his ancie●… miseries, and to confess his sins committed, would not admit 〈◊〉 other means, nor communicate his secrets to a third person. Whereupon S. Pachomius with great sorrow, seeing himself to be excluded from the means of being able to help that soul, causing the ●…nterpreter to go his ways, and having beckoned to the Roman to expect a while; he retired himself into a place apart, and there ●…tretching forth his hands to Heaven, made this devout prayer.  
Almighty Lord, if I through defect of language, be not able to help such men, as come unto me from countries so remote, to what purpose were it so send them hither? And if yet thou wouldst have me to be an instrument of the salvation of others; Grant, Lord, (to whom nothing is impossible) that I be not ignorant of that, which they would say unto me. Having thus persevered in this prayer, for full three hours continually together, with extraordinary fervour; he espied a sheet of paper, in a hand written in form of an Epistle, to fall from heaven. Which as soon as he read (a wonderful thing) he suddenly felt within himself the gift of all Tongues: for which, giving thanks to the divine Goodness, he returned very cheerful to the stranger, and began to talk to him in the Greek and Latin tongues, with so much propriety and variey of words, as to the other, it seemed the Abbot in eloquence out stripped all the learned men of the world. Having heard his confession then, and with wholesome advices enjoined him due penance, he proceeded to deal with the rest.  
These, and the like demonstrations, which the divine Majesty gave, from time to time, in favour of S. Pachomius, especially joined (as hath been said) with a perpetual tenor of a most holy life, it cannot easily be explicated, how much reputation and reverence they won him, not with Religious only, but even Seculars also. Through which means, this great Gardener of Christ, after he had sent to the table of his Lord, many fruits very seasonable and ripe, himself also being called to the rewards of so great labours, fell sick; when perceiving the deposition of his Tabernacle to draw near, causing the Monks to be assembled together, & brought before him, with a loving and grateful countenance, he said to them, in this sort: I, Brothers, now at last, am entering into the passage, which all the children of Eve are to make, and do feel, how our Lord now calls me to him. Do you then, retaining in memory, the fatherly advices, which I have given you, endeavour to stand continually on the guard of your souls. Eschew all things, that may any ways cool fraternal charity in you, and bring in factions or discords amongst you. Attending to the mark, which our Saviour gave us to know his disciples withal, which truly is no other, than a mutual love, & sincere conjunction of minds. Wherefore, I do exho●… you, above all things, to abhor the commerce, & dealing, not only with Meletius, and Arrius, but even likewise with any other, who shall but step an inch from the Apostolical Traditions, and from the holy universal Church. And since I am to depart, as I have said, endeavour you to choose in my place, a person, that may be a spiritual help unto you, and conduct you at last, to the end you have all proposed. To which enterprise I do see none more sufficient, them our most beloved Petronius.  
This said, the brothers sent suddenly to the Monastery of Chen●…boscus, to call for him. And S. Pachomius in the mean time, composing his body, and recommending himself to our Lord with due preparations, very happily expired, between the arms, and sighe●… of his dear Congregation, on the 14. day of the month of May. As for the year, and other circumstances of times and places, there is no memory to be found. The sacred corpse, with much veneration and solemn offices, was committed to the Sepulchre, & the blessed spirit, with singular feasting, received into the heavenly country, leaving on earth an exact model of perfect exercitation to all those, who being aware of the false flatteryes of the flesh, of the vain hopes of the world, and of the pernicious subtilityes of the devil; aspire to the durable goods, & to the blessed vision of the most holy Trinity. To which be all glory & benediction, and yielding of thanks for ever and ever.  
Amen.   
FINIS.   

S. MARTIN.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

IN warfare bred, I chose a nobler foe  
By nature, than the world's vast realm doth yield,  
Myself; I first than him did overthrow:  
Subdued, I gained the glory of the field.  
Conquered, and Conqueror in one fight, I show  
Our own depression is our strongest shield,  
To check his fierce assaults, and souls to free  
From Satan's rage, and hellish slavery.   

Dead to the world, like Nigers streams I rose,  
That in the earth his buried flood enwombes,  
And having made a natural bridge, he goes  
far under ground, but up far greater comes;  
When the dead world to quicken Heaven me chose,  
And in a Bishop's Chair, to show his dooms:  
Who clothed himself for man, in flesh of Man,  
He clothes receives from me, his 
* Expoliavit so jonathan tunica qua erat indutus, & dedit eam David. 1 Reg. c. 18.  jonathan.    

THE LIFE OF S. MARTIN BISHOP OF TOWERS.  
Taken out Severus Sulpicius, and others.  

S. Martin being the Son of a Gentle, becomes a Christian, and is enroled a Soldier of the Emperor. Chap. 1.  
SAINT MARTIN a great Servant of Christ, and an excellent maintainer of the Apostolical dignity, and discipline; was borne in Sabaria, a City of Pannonia in Hungary, of Patents in repute of the world, very honourable, and noble, but yet Gentiles, and far from Christ. The Father being enroled in the Roman warfare, in process of time, came to be a Tribune of Soldiers, or as we say, a Colonel of a Regiment, by whom S. Martin, being lead into Italy, yet a child, was trained up in Pavia, in feats of arms; howbeit, though natural instinct, he was inclined a great deal more to the acts of peace, or rather to Christian Religion. In so much, as being yet but ten years old, against the will of his friends, he went secretly to the Church, and with instance demanded to be made a Catechumen. Within two years after, he desired likewise to retire himself into the desert: & he had done it in effect, if his tender age had not been an impediment to him. To which disturbance of his holy designs, was further added a new levy, which then was made of military men, with express order, that all the sons of old Soldiers, should be put into the roll, and conducted to the war. Whereupon S. Martin, being now some fifteen years old, being discovered by his own Father, was against his will, enforced to repair to the Ensigns of Constantius the Emperor. He would have no other in his company, than a slave only, whom yet he would be serving rather, then be served by him, to wit, in often pulling off his shoes, and brushing his clothes, & furnishing the table with what was needful.  
With this disposition of mind, being come to the field, some three years before his baptism, he always preserved himself wondrous pure, and untouched of those vices and debauchements, ●…n which Soldiers are for the most part wont to be involved. First for his person, he would seem to content himself with fare so moderate and simple, as from that time he seemed to be rather a Monk, than a Soldier: besides he would seem to content himself with those kind of meats, which others utterly refused to eat off: moreover he would show himself very benign and courteous, to his Comrades, and to all others, bearing with their defects, and supplying the necessity of every one, with extraordinary charity, patience, and humility. He would comfort the afflicted with love and dexterity, and be very helpful to the sick: and without thinking of the morrow, he would feed most liberally the hungry, but with particular tenderness clothe the naked; in which work of piety, was a certain act of his very memorable, which we shall tell you in the next Chapter.   

The singular Charity of S. Martin to a poor man. And how he leaves the wars, and betakes him to another Course. Chap. 2.  
THe Roman Army, at this time, was lodged in France, in exceeding cold places, and in the hart of a winter much more cruel, then used to be in that place; in so much as many men, even died frozen in the streets. Now it happened, in the Gate of Amiens, that a poor man, quaking with his naked body exposed to the sharpness of the air, very pitifully craved some succour of the soldiers, that passed then along, in the company of S. Martin; and the wretch being not heeded by any of them, M. Martin apprehended strait, how that merit by the divine providence, was reserved for him. But what could he do, in such a case? He had not a penny of money about him, having now already spent all, in other Alms: And in fine, had nothing else but his arms, and a short cloak on his back. What resolution took then the Man of God? Taking out his sword, of a sudden, he divided the same into halves, and gives the one part thereof, to the wretch, and the other keeps to himself to cover him the best he could. At the sight of such a strange habit, & remnant of cloth, as some of the more youthful of them, could hardly contain themselves from laughing, so others more stayed than they, were worthily touched there with, as knowing how well they might have clothed him, without despoiling of themselves.  
Now in truth, how much God was pleased with this charity of S. Martin, he seemed to demonstrate the night following, appearing before him, with that piece of garment, on his own person, and bidding him to look and mark well, whether it were not the Garment he had given to the poor man, the day before. Wherup●… with a sweet countenance turning himself to a multitude of Angels which attended him, he added with a loud voice: Martin, b●…g but yet a Catechumen, hath clothed me with this mantle. Words surely well worthy of the bowels of Christ, and agreeable to those other, which he said, conversing with men, and which he will repeat again, at the judgement day: Quamdiu uni de minimis meis fecistis, mihi 〈◊〉 cistis.  
From this so noble a vision S. Martin took not a whit of vain glory, but acknowledging and magnifying in all, and through all the heavenly grace; he took rather a motive thence of greater humility and diligence, in the divine service. So as without more delay, he hied him to Baptism, being then about eighteen years of age, and withal to give himself more freely to a perfect life, he was even ready to bid adieu to the military state, but being constrained through the importunity of his Tribune (who having finished his office, promised to follow him,) he differed yet the execution of his holy purpose, for the space of two years: in all which 〈◊〉, remaining in person in the field, he had his thoughts in the Cell, and Choir, so as well he may be said a Soldier, by name, rather than exercise.  
In the mean time, a huge Army of Almans, being entered into ●…ance, which did nothing but waste the Roman Empire, julianus ●…sar, being sent by Constantius, to that service, made the levy of his ●…en, in the territory of the Vangion, which at this day is called Spire, 〈◊〉 as others would have it, to be that of Worms, where before his con●…ing to encounter with the Enemy, he would needs have given a ●…rgesse to the Soldiers. They began then, according to custom 〈◊〉 be called one by one, before the Master of the Campe. Whereupon S. Martin, esteeming this, to be a good occasion for him to take ●…is leave, when it came to his turn, with Christian liberty, said to ●…esar. Hitherto, have I been at your pay, now then do but grant ●…e leave to become a soldier of Christ: as for my part of the do●…ation, be it given to others, since it is not lawful for me any more 〈◊〉 imbrue myself in blood.  
At these words, the Fyrant being angry, looked sourly upon ●…im, and said, that Martin had craved licence, not so much for deuo●…on sake, as for fear of the battle, which was to be on the day fol●…owing: Then the servant of God, so much more bold and undauned, as the fear was greater they objected to him: Behold answered ●…e, O Caesar, whether my refusing money, do seem rather to spring of fear, than piety. Tomorrow, am I ready, on the point of ioy●…ing battle, to present myself, before the first ranks, without Target, or Helmet, or other arms, but only with the sign of the holy Cross, and with this confidence alone, to thrust myself ●…o the thickest squadrons of those barbarous people. With this so courageous an answer, julian being in censed much the more, cau●…d him suddenly to be put in prison, to come to the proof, and ●…o expose him unarmed, to the face of the enemy.  
This thing gave much matter of talk to the whole Army, and with diverse affects of mind, they were all expecting the issue; when betimes in the morning, behold, beyond all ectpectation, ●…e Ambassador of that fierce Nation, came in with Heralds, and ●…nterpreters, not only to crave peace, but also to submit themsel●…es humbly to the obedience of Caesar. This matter was held of all, ●…o proceed from Heaven, and such as were privy to the sanctity of S. Martin, in particular, attributed without doubt, so sudden a ●…utation, and so greet as Victory so easily gotten to nothing else, ●…en to his merits, because there wanted not means, to the divine power, to save him amidst a thousand swords & lances, and to d●… comfite, and put to flight, as many as should attempt to offend him: notwithstanding it seemed to be more conformable to th●… sweet disposition of the eternal providence, and more agreeable t●… the peaceful nature, and manners of S. Martin, to free him rather by the way of such an accord, then by the means of death, and slaughter.   

S. Martin repairs to S. Hilary Bishop. And departing homewards mee●… with a Devil, whom he stoutly foils; and what followed. Chap. 3.  
During the common joy above mentioned, S. Martin being delivered, and the war now wholly concluded, repaired 〈◊〉 S. Hilary Bishop of Poytiers, a person in those times of rare and eminent Goodness. here did he give forth such demonstrations of himself, as S. Hilary to retain such a labourer in that vineyard, attempted often to make him Deacon, but S. Martin always resisting, an●… still affirming, & crying out, that he was not worthy of that degree, the discreet Pastor was advised, there was no other way to constrain this man thereto, then to give him some kind of office, which in a certain manner might rather be held a disparagement to him, than any dignity at all: nor was he herein deceived awhit, finc●… offering him up the charge of an Exorcist, which was held to be the meanest and lowest of all, S. Martin at last, not to seem to have 〈◊〉 in scorn or disdain, was persuaded to accept thereof.  
Not long after, being admonished by God, in sleep, to go his ways to revisit his country, and help his friends, who as yet were not out of their Pagavisme, he demanded leave for this end, of the holy Bishop, to go thither: Who granted it, indeed, though with a very ill will; entreating & conjuring him, not without tears, to return back again, as soon as he could. And so likewise S. Martin (as it is said) departed with no great good will himself, foreseeing the difficultyes of the enterprise, and protesting to his Brothers, that therein he was like to suffer great ●…auayles and adversities, as it fell out afterwards in effect. For that first, in his passage over the Alps, he fell into the hands of the Bandits, one of which lifting up his axe now over his head, was stayed by the arm of another less cruel than he, who notwithstanding binding his hands behind him, gave him to the custody and spoil of another who for that end, leading him to a place more remote began to demand of him, who he was? and S. Martin answered, he was a Christian. Art thou not afraid, replied the Thief? And he with an incredible constancy affirmed, that he was never less afraid in his life, since he knew very well, the divine Mercy, to be then most present, with such as trusted therein, when they found themselves in the greatest perils of all: but I am sorry for thee (quoth he) that makest thyself wholly uncapable, & unworthy thereof, by the life thou leadest. And with this overture very dextrously falling into the Gospel, with wholesome and efficacious words, so moved that soul, as he was converted to Christ, and with a full deliberation of changing his manners, did secretly put the Pilgrim in his way, beseeching his Charity to vouchsafe to recommend him to our Lord: which he did, and not without fruit, forasmuch as this very Thief afterwards came to be a Religious man, who even told us this particular himself.  
S. Martin then pursuing his voyage, having passed Milan, was met by the Devil, in form of a man, who would needs know, whither he went: and being told by S. Martin, that he was going whither God had called him, the Enemy replied: Go whither thou wilt, or whatsoever thou takest in hand, Know, that the Devil will be always contrary to thee. Then S. Martin answered with the Prophet: Dominus mihi adiutor, non timebo quid faciat mihi homo. At which words, the Impostor immediately vanished: and S. Martin after some days, being arrived in his Country, attended the first thing he did, with all endeavour to procure the salvation of his Parents, but not with like success; since the Mother came to be a Christian while the Father could not be stirred from the impious worship of the Idols. Yet there wanted not in his place many others, who through the example, and with the exhortation of S. Martin, were brought into the right way of eternal life.  
Besides this, there was another occasion for him, to employ well the talents which he had received, and to show forth the zeal he had of the holy Faith. Because the Arrian Heresy, at that time, with particular success having extended itself into the parts of Sclavonia, and all those confines there, S. Martin with all his might opposed himself to the Rebels of Christ, with so much more toils and difficulty, as the favour and succour was less, which he had from the Catholic Priests. Whence, taking the whole shock, and envy on himself, being injured and racked with divers to●…ments, and (among other things) having been publicly scourged, he was constrained at last to turn back again into France.   

S. Martin is banished from Milsan, and after escaping poison, mee●… 〈◊〉 S. Hilary again. Chap. 4.  
SAint Martin having now understood, on the the way as he went to France, that things were there turned up-side down, and that even S. Hilary himself was by Heretics, sent into banishment; he determined till better times, to entertain himself in Milan, and there to set up a little Monastery: but neither was he suffered so to do, by Auxentius the Head of the Arrians, who aftermany outrages, and persecutions, finally expelled him the City.  
Whereupon S. Martin, being thus molested on every side, falling into the company of a certain Priest, a great servant of God, determined for that time to hide themselves. To this end, they retired into a little desert Island, in the Tyrrhen sea, called by the name of Gallinara. Here while the Man of God, lived in great abstinence of roots and herbs, it chanced unawares, that he eat some Hellebore, which is a medicinable herb: yet such notwithstanding, a●… that if the quantity be not moderate, and the simple well prepared, and corrected, through the great purgative it hath with it, it comes to be poisonous, and pestiferous, as de facto it had been to S. Martin, if being brought to extremes therewith he had not made his recourse to prayer, and with this remedy had not suddenly expelled all dolour and danger.  
After this, it was not long ere he knew, how S. Hilary having sound grace with the Emperor Constantius, returned into France. At which news being exceeding joyful, he travailed towards Rome, to meet with him there, and to accompany him to his Church. But S. Hilary being now past by already, he met him nearer, and with great iubiley, being received by him, erected, out of the City of Poytiers, a poor Monastery for him, and as many as followed him. Among these, there was a certain Catechumen, who falling sick of a violent fever, while S. Martin was far off (for three days only) about certain affairs of the divine service, beyond all expectation, departed this life, and that which was worse, without Baptism. The Convent was sensible of this case: and S. Martin at his return, finding now the Exequys prepared, very sorrowful and sad thereat approached his body. here now conceiving in his pure mind new fervour of spirit, he makes them all go forth of the chamber; and the doors being shut stretches himself, like another Elizaeus, upon the cold bones of the dear Brother, and so having made a fervent prayer, and very soon perceiving already, through divine virtue, how the vital spirits were upon return, standing something upright again, with his eyes fixed on the face of the dead man, he stood courageously expecting the effect of his prayers, and of the divine clemency. There were not yet two hours of time past, when he saw the dead to move his limbs, by little and little, and panting to open the eyes, and to recover the use of his senses. Then S. Martin giving thanks to our Lord, cried out so loud, as they who expected without, being moved with the noise thereof, came rushing in, and all perceived, to their infinite astonishment, the corpse to respire, and take vigour again, which even now they were ready to carry to burial.  
After so great a benefit had, the Cathecumen delayed not a whit to receive the holy Baptism, whereunto he survived many years after, and was wont sincerely to recount of himself, how being departed from the body, he was presented before a Tribunal, and by sentence confined to darksome place, among the base sort; but how at the same instant, two Angels relating to the judge, how it was he for whom S. Martin had besought, to them was then Commission given, to restore him to life again, and to make a present of him to the servant of God. This was the first wonder S. Martin showed forth in those parts; whence it followed, that being now held for holy, he begun afterwards to be esteemed also as a man very powerful with God, and a person truly Apostolical. Not long after this, passing through the fields of one Lupicinus an honourable & rich man, there met him a troop of people all full of laments, and tears, telling him, how one of the servants of Lupicinus, had hanged himself, & so miserably had ended his days. S. Martin here with being moved to compassion, without delay intred into the chamber, where the unhappy Wretch was deposed, and so from thence also dismissing the people, distending himself in like manner on the corpse, made he his prayer: which was no less efficacious than the other, since that his hart now cold, already resuming the natural heat, began by little and little to yield to the arteries, & their pulse again, and motion to the nerves: so as the dead, with stretch●… forth arms, taking S. Martin by the right hand, arose on his feet▪ and accompanied him to the gate of the house, in the presence of all that multitude; who replenished both with wonder and joy, ceased not to glorify in S. Martin, the immense goodness, and omnipotency of the Creator.   

S. Martin not without great contradiction of many, is chosen Bishop of Towers. Chap. 5.  
AT the very same time, the Church of Towers, being vacant, 〈◊〉 Martin, by the universal consent of the people there, was destined to that dignity. But he not being so easily to be taken fort●… from his Monastery; a certain Citizen, being called Ruritius, his wife feigning to be grievously sick, cast himself at the fear of the Saint, and conjured him so much, as he made him to come forth, to bless her. With that pretext, a number of persons being covertly set in opportune places, S. Martin was taken by them, and with a good guard brought into the City, where was already assembled together, a great concourse of people of all sorts, being met, according to the use of those times, to pass their suffrages, for the election of a new Prelate: nor was there any person, great or li●…e that desired not to see S. Martin installed in that seat, esteeming the country happy, under the care of such a Pastor.  
Some Bishops only of the Neighbour-diocesses being called ●…o the consecration, and some other principal persons stood earnestly against it; alleging him to be a Person mean, of no Presence▪ with ill clothes, worse put on, and in sum, unworthy to be numbered among Bishops. With such oppositions, did these men seek to alienate the people from the devotion and savour of S. Mar●…. But the matter fell out quite contrary with them, because the same objections, as they were held of the people (who had the sounder judgement) for the praise and reputation of the Servant of Christ; so on the other side, they came with little edification to discover the envy and malignity of the Prelates. Whence they began also, by little and little, to relent, one only excepted, more blind and obsti●…e then the rest, who continued in vesistance, till such time, as by divine providence, a notable judgement was showed upon him, as we shall now declare.  
This Prelate, in the Church of Towers, had the title of Defender, & ●…y reason of that dignity was known of all. Now he being one day with the people in the Church, at the hour of divine office; it happened, that the Lectourer, being not able to press through the great ●…rung of people which was there, to approach the Choir, one of the Standards by, in the mean while, laying hold of the Psalter, ●…egan to read the first verse, as it lay before him, being just that same of the 8. psalm, which saith, Ex ore infantium & lactentium perfecisti ●…udem, propter inimicos tuos, ut destruas inimicum, & defensorem, the last word 〈◊〉 that Text being so translated, instead of vlt●…rem. At which word ●…o pronounced was lifted immediately a cry of the people unto ●…eauen, to the extreme confusion & shame of the adversary: and S. Martin with out more resistance of any besides himself, was elected, ●…r rather forcibly constrained to the Bishopric. In which administration, it may not easily be explicated, how fully, or rather su●…er abundantly, he gave correspondency, to the full expectation, which was had of him: forasmuch as being disposed to that degree, with the exquisite addresses of a most chaste mind, in the sacred Vn●…ion besides, he received so great abundance of new graces, and gifts of Heaven, as continually outstripping himself, he retained ●…oth the virtue of a private person, & further added to his singular praise, all the good qualtyes of a public man.   

S. Martin retires himself out of the Town, with his Monks: and their manner of living there. Chap. 6.  
SAint Martin, in the treating of his own person would change nothing of his wont manner; his fare, and apparel, was still the same as before, for habitation only he betook himself into a little Cell, hard by the Cathedral Church: but even likewise from thence, through too much importunity of frequent Visits, he suddenly retired himself out of the City, into a marueylous commodious place, to distribute his times unto Martha and Mary, since it was about two miles distant from the Town. On the one side, it was girt in with a high in accessable rock, on the other environed with the river Loire: in so much, as there could be no entrance thereinto, but by a narrow path. Within that enclosure S. Mar●… had built him a little Cell of boards, & a part of his Monks, who were some eighty in number, had done the like▪ and some again with instruments had digged them in the rocky hill, certain receptacles, but narrow, and more fit to medicate upon Death, then to co●… life withal.  
here no man held any thing proper to himself, all thing●… were in common. To buy or sell, was not there permitted. To no manner of art, applied they themselves; but to writing, and to the only, were the yo●…ger deputed. Those of the more 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 attended as it were, to nothing else, then to things divine. Very r●…rely went any out of his Cell, but when they all assembled tog●…ther in the Oratory to pacify God: beside, they did eat all tog●…ther in the Evening. Wine was not afforded to any, except to 〈◊〉 sick. The grea●… part would be wearing of cilices: clothes whi●… had any fine●…●…sse in them were abhorred of ●…ch one 〈◊〉 manifest scandal: A thing so much more admirable, as many 〈◊〉 them were Noble of blood, and dainetily bred. But for the lou●…d Christ, and the Cross they did all very voluntarily, submit them●…ues to such a pe●…ance. Of which number afterwards were many of them seen to be Bishops; while Ci●…ties strived to be governed 〈◊〉 spirit by the Children of such a discipline. Nor could it be o●… wise, but need●… must succeed very excellent men under S. M●… because not only: with advices and words, went he always 〈◊〉 them; but even with works and lively incitements also of all p●…fection, and especially sincere humility, together with an ardent ●…oue of the Neighbour.  
Sulpitius Severas declared (who lived in those times, & knowing the Saint domestically as he did, very diligently wrote his life) how that going sometimes to visit him from country's somewh●… remote, he could never hinder him from washing his feet, and ●…ing to sit down at table, from reaching him water, as well ●…t his hands▪ as for those of his fellows. The same man adds, how after he had fed the bodies of his guests with moderate vict●… 〈◊〉 would be afterwards affoarding them a most sweet food of ●…tuall discourses for their souls, exhorting them with like modesty and efficacy to nothing more than to fly the sensualityes of the present life, and to leave the perilous trash of the world, to be able t●… more ●…imbly and free, to follow jesus.  
And to this purpose, he would set before them the fresh example of S. P●… Bishop of N●…a, who after he had distributed very ●…mple 〈◊〉 ●…or the love of God, and help of the poor, did finally with an example of Christian piety, never heard of before, sell himself into a most cruel bondage, for the ransom of his subjects, who were held in Afric slaves to the Saracens. With such manner ●…f comparisons as this, and moreover with precepts taken out of the ●…red Writ, went S. Martin exciting in spirit, as many as came be●…re him. Nor was it any great matter for him, that he should have 〈◊〉 much to give to others, who so continually treasured up for himself, remaining even amidst exterior actions always with the hart 〈◊〉 united with God, as neither in words nor deeds, he would ever ●…o forth of his presence. And as Smiths, without other matter to work on, through use, & for their pleasure only, will sometimes ●…e laying on the anvil: so S. Martin, not only in the times depu●…d to the Sacrifice, and divine worship, but likewise at all hours' ●…sides, would either read or write, or be dealing with men: and ●…hrough the great habit he had gotten, he would be continually ●…collected in the interious man, conversing sweetly with the hea●…enly Spouse, and with the giver of all Graces.  
He would never lose time in the day, and whole nights he would often pass over in labours, and watchings. To the body ●…e gave that refection, and that repose, which extreme necessity re●…uired, lying on the bare ground, covered only with a sharp cilice. He took heed with all caution from judging the intentions of o●…ers, interpreting what he could each thing to the better part, and ●…wayes very highly esteeming the reputation & fame of the neigh●…our: the injuries, detractions, & the envies of Persecutors, which 〈◊〉 the whole course of his life were not wanting to him, he would ●…compence with weeping bitterly for their offences, and also (as ●…ccasion served) with affording them benefits, & serving them; not ●…xcluding any, what lay in him, from his holy friendship. He was ●…euer seen to laugh vainly, or to be contristate at any thing, con●…ruing always the same tranquillity of hart, and serenity of counte●…ance, amidst all the varieties of human accidents, either prosperous ●…nd cheerful, or how strange, and adverse soever they were: Whereof, those few actions, which we shall tell you anon, shall give ●…rth, a very evident testimony, though in each one of these preci●…s examples, do shine withal (as often it happens) many other ver●…es beside.   

S. Martin is much honoured by a miracle from God, for a charitable act of 〈◊〉 Chap. 7.  
SAint Martin going one morning to the cathedral Church, to 〈◊〉 lebrate in the winter time, was on the way demanded an alms of a poor ragged wretch, that was ready to die for cold. No●… he, who in compassion, was still the same, call his Archdeac●… before him, commanded him suddenly to be clothed; from the●… he pursued his way, and having adored our Lord, entered into 〈◊〉 Sacristy to vest himself. There were in those days, certain roo●… adjoining to the Church, somewhat sequestered from the vulg●… which were called Oratoryes: In one of these (while the Cha●… else where, were passing the time in Conversation) S. Martin according to use, was alone in his Pontificalibus, sitting on a play●… and simple seat, (for he would never use any better) for that 〈◊〉 the Church, he would never be seen, but on his knees, or standi●… upright. Now while he was expecting there, amidst his holy meditations, at the hour of the Sacrifice, the very same Beggar, w●… seen again to appear before him, who as it seemed (as necess●… makes one ingenious) could tell how to contrive it so, as the Cle●… unwitting thereof, finding the Bishop retired, presses in to him, & with a lamentable voice, complains for that he was not provided by the Archdeacon. Then S. Martin without more ado, causing him to step aside, took off his own Cassock, not witho●… some trouble, from under his vestments, and gave it to the Wretc●… who as for soliciting his suit had entered in without noise, so no●… obtaining what he would, he went quietly away. A little after, t●… Archdeacon enters to advertise the Bishop, that now it was tym●… for him to come forth, for the people were all expecting his coming when he answered: It were fit the while the poor (meaning hi●… self) should first be clothed, or otherwise, he could not appe●… in public: but the Archdeacon (for that S. Martin was outward●… clothed with the vestment, & could not penetrate the Enigma,) 〈◊〉ter many excuses finally added, how the poor man could not 〈◊〉 found. Bring hither (said S. Martin) the Garment prepared, for th●… shall not want one to put it on. With these words, the vnper●… man came to be troubled in himself, & being constrained throug●… necessity, went his ways suddenly to a shop at hand, where hastily having bought a poor coat, for some half a Crown, being course, ●…cant, and illfavourdly made, casts it down with a disdainful gesture, at the feet of S. Martin, saying: behold the garment, but for the beggar now where is he? When the Venerable Bishop, without losing awhit his holy peace, causing the others to stand forth somewhat without the portal, procuring to be secret as much as he could, did revest himself with it; howbeit at last through the diverse circumstances of the matter, the thing could not be concealed.  
And besides that, it pleased the divine goodness, to illustrate such a fact, with an evident sign, because the admirable Priest, going forth in that habit, while according to the use, he blesseth the Altar; behold a ball of fire to shine from his head, in manner of a comet, which blazing towards Heaven, sent up a fiery stream. True it is, that howbeit the same fell out on a solemn day, and in a great concourse of people, yet did not any other see it, than one of the Virgins, one Priest, and three Monks only: as for the other, why they had not the favour to behold it, appertains not to us, to examine here: it sufficeth, that the testimonies, as well for number, as quality, are sufficient to take away all doubt.   

S. Martin travailing alone, was hardly used by Soldiers, not knowing who he was. Chap. 8.  
THE divine Man, going in a visit of his Diocese (which he performed with singular care, and edification of all) his Companions by some accident or other remained behind, while he going on his ways, met with a Ca●…och of Soldiers travailing upon business; but the horses starting at the sight of S. Martin, in a cassock of hairy cloth, and a dark mantle which hung down on one side, and affrighted therewith, were troubled in such sort, as the harness being on a sudden entangled together, could not easily be freed. Heerupon the cruel Soldiers being enraged alighted, and with stripes, and cudgels set upon S. Martin: Who as he was very amorous of the Cross, as holding every occasion very dear, to be ill entreated, without once opening his mouth, stood to the blows, until such time, as being torn and half dead, he fell to ●…he ground, when those spiteful fellows, having now achieved so goodly an exploit, returned again to their Ca●…och.  
This done, the companions of the Saint, being now arrived, and seeing him in that manner, to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, all 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, being sad and heavy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 up and lay 〈◊〉 him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and with all the haste that might 〈◊〉 go●… a way out of that ●…ursed place. But now, th●…se impious fellows (though they had th●… advantage to 〈◊〉 the harness, & to set them in order again) 〈◊〉 ●…ad they not the power to go forwards one foot further, but rath●… through divine justice; the horses stood still, immoveable like statues, in the 〈◊〉 same place, nor with ●…yes, threats, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 strookes, could they be made to go on a step. Finally, 〈◊〉 they had spent in vain, their whips; and Cudgels, which they 〈◊〉 out of the next wood, these wicked fellows began now to reflect, how this accident could not be human, but by divine justice; & having remorse of conscience, for the grievous outrage they had committed on the poor passenger right now, they went to inquire of some, that passed that way, who he was that went before in such a habit, and with such marks; and having understood to be S. Martin (whose name was a great deal mo●… famous than his person) they acknowledged the Sacrilege committed, and the vengea●… of God upon them, and fearing yet worse, they all strived to follow the Servants of God; and having overtaken him, with deep sighs and lamentable voices, casting themselves prostrate on th●… ground before him, sprinkling their heads with dust, and knocking their breasts, they humbly besought pardon of him, and licence to be gone.  
The Saint, by divine revelation, had foreseen the success already, and also acquainted his companions with it. Whence such penance was not awhit new to them, nor did he upbraid any of them, for the injury done him: but received them all, with 〈◊〉 benign countenance; and with servant prayers, having obtained their dispatch, he sent them a way confounded, and astonished 〈◊〉 great a Clemency.   

A notable Example of a dissolute Monk, converted by S. Martin to a better life. Chap. 9  
WE may not seem to conceal here the Patience, and Meekness, which S. Martin showed to a Priest of his Church, by name Britius. This man, being trained up in a Religious life, with the Observance of Poverty, and Modesty, as he was assumpted to the Clergy and Benefices, so suffered he himself to be drawn away, with the concupiscence of the Eyes, as without regard, either of his Life past, or present Degree, or the speech of people, he began to give himself wholly to pleasures; to maintain horses, and to buy very costly Slaves. These things now pierced the very hart of the holy Pastor, who after he had prayed to our Lord for him, stuck not with much sweetness, and gravity, both of words and countenance, to set before him the enormous scandal that followed of so great a mutation of manners in him, entreating him withal to be think himself of the ancient purposes, and to consider, how the state of the Clergy, did not acquit him at all of the perfection of a Monk, but that rather the name did seem to oblige him; to have in horror and contempt all the delights and pleasures of the world, since thereby was understood, he had left to others their transitory things, and with the Prophet had chosen, for portion and inheritance, God only.  
With such advices, S. Martin went about, to awake that unhappy man from this deadly sleep: but as he was given over already in prey to sense, & found himself to be but little disposed to admonishments, for the present he held his peace; but feeling himself afterwards to be gauled with the truth, and with this occasion also more inflamed by the Devil, he was so incensed therewith as that on the very next day turning the medicine into poison, with great fury, he came to the Monastery, where the Man of God was sitting near unto his little Cell. here Britius, full of anger, or full of frenzy rather, with sparkling eyes, and trembling lips, & changing often colour, vents forth his rage conceived against S. Martin in presence of many, loading him with infinite contumlies and injuries, and hardly also abstaining from laying violent hands upon him. Nor yet was the sacrilegious temerity of this man, any thing new, or sudden, to the Servant of Christ, having first before his arrival, seen on the top of the hanging cliff, two wicked Spirits, who triumphing, and joyful, calling Britius by name, with voice, and gestures, stood egging him on, to revenge the affront, and to handle the Bishop in that sort, as he might not dare hereafter to molest him any more.  
Whence S. Martin, composing himself to all manner of Patience, endeavoured, with admirable dexterity and sweetness, to mitigate the Wretch, the whilst he, letting wholly the reynes lose to his Tongue ceased not to abuse him with extreme insolency, and 〈◊〉. And now having suffered his tongue to range a liberty 〈◊〉 every side, with the 〈◊〉 fury he entered in, he went forth 〈◊〉 when by the prayers, no doubt of S. Martin, the darkness expelled he began to be aware of his grievous offence, and was so comppunct for the same, as that suddenly turning his steps back again, with blushing and shame; prostrating himself at the feet of the holy Man, besought him benignly to remit his fault. No●… was it any thing hard to obtain this grace of him, who was sorry, not for h●… own abasement, but rather for the precipice of the other, yea, and to help him more, plainly expressed to him, how he had seen th●… two infernal furies, that set him on.  
In sum, with all affection he received him into his friendship again▪ Wherein he was ●…ound so constant▪ that howbe●… he had afterwards many, and grievous complaints of him yet notwithstanding, he could never be brought to deprive him, of hi●… Priesthood▪ lest under the shadow of public chastisement, the private offence might seem in some manner to be punished by him. And to persons of quality, who seemed to wonder much at him▪ & not to like very well so much indulgence of his▪ S. Marty●… would answer, among other things: 〈◊〉 was tolerated by Christ, and shall not I bear with a Briti●…s? In this manner, went he still 〈◊〉 severing in these most intense acts of Charity. But who would say ever, that so ob●…inate, and unbridled a man as Britius was, should come afterwards▪ to be so gracious in the eyes of God, as to become a Bishop, and a Saint?  
And yet so fell it out, thanks be ●…o the divine Goodness for 〈◊〉 & to the intercessions of S. Martin: who on a time, holding his ey●… fixed on Heaven for a pretty while, and being therefore of 〈◊〉 taxed of madness: Know (said he to him) Son, that I have obtained of our Lord, that thou mayst come to be Bishop afte●… me▪ Though thou must understand, that in the Bishopricque itself, thou shalt want no adversities. Then Britius said: Lo you now▪ did not I affirm the truth, how this man was merely out of his wits? But howsoever, in time he understood, he was deceived. Because that S. Martin, being once departed this life, it pleased the divine providence, that Britius, though vain and proud before, yet notwithstanding being held in high esteem for Chastity, 〈◊〉 without opposition, elected by the people▪ and Clergy, to the supreme government of souls. In which office, acknowledging, ●…d amending the errors of his youth, he most notably demean●…d ●…mselfe. And to the end, the Prophecy of his Predecessor, might 〈◊〉 verified, with his great glory, he suffered, from the impious, ●…d slanderers, most grievous persecutions.   

●…ow a certain Virgin refused to be visited by S. Martin: and how patiently he took it. Chap. 10.  
TO return now from whence we were digressed; a like fortitude to this, showed S. Martin of an equal courage, and serene ●…ind in another case, though light in esteem perhaps▪ yet very dif●…cult in practice: there was in the Diocese of Towers, a Virgin, a●…ong others, of excellent fame, and ver●…uous behaviour; who now 〈◊〉 these many years, of her own accord, had made her abode in ●…ertayne farm of hers, very straight reclused, and only at●…ending to God, did fly the conversation, & sight of men. Martin●…ow ●…ow, being invited with such an odour (who otherwise was ex●…eeding precise from spending any time with women) yet chan●…ing to pass by those parts, determined to honour with his presen●… so rare a virtue, being a favour so much more notable, as known ●…o be more unusual with him: but the matter succeeded not accordingly, because the Spouse of Christ, would not give way to remit awhit of her rigour, so much, as at the request of such a Prelate to be ●…isited at all. So as S. Martin, with many of his company, being ●…ow arrived where she was, not doubting awhit of being admit●…ed to her presence, having sent in a messenger to her, and that in ●…ayne, so repulsed he departed thence.  
Now what would an ordinary Priest have done in this case? If ●…ot happily, taken it at least in ill part, and perhaps have judged ●…he Virgin to be tainted with heresy, and worthy of excommuni●…ation? But the divine man, was so far from being offended ther●…, as rejoicing at such a repulse received; began with magnifical words, to extol the constancy and chastity of her, who had so re●…yred herself from him. Nor with words only showed he forth, the high opinion he had framed of her, but with facts also: forasmuch as she afterward, in the Evening having sent him certain presents of refection, and refreshment, S. Martin, who in his whole visit, till that time, had never accepted of any thing which was offered him, yet of what the Virgin sent him, he refused i●… not▪ 〈◊〉 ledging, it was not ●…itting for a Priest, to refuse the benedict●… 〈◊〉 her, who deserved to be preferred before many Priests.  
With such like words, and works, from time to time, g●… S. Martin evident signs of a full victory gotten over his passions▪ & of the peaceful possession he maintained in himself. But in regard, some will say perhaps, how these manner of praises, are 〈◊〉 mon also with private persons; let us come, to the proper 〈◊〉 of a true Prelate, and Apostolical Guardian. Among which, it seems that the zeal of the holy, and orthodox faith, and of 〈◊〉 sincere worship of God, doth ho●…d the first place. For whose conservation, S. Martin was always wonderfully solicitous, and vigilant, keeping himself, and all all his flock, from every le●… contagion o●… Heretics, or of others severed from the Roman S●… Heer with did burn in his breast, an inextinguishable thirst to ●…state, and propagate the Christian verity, on every side, and p●… ticularly in the neighbour parts; where it seemed to him an in●…lerable thing, that any relic of Paganism, should yet be exta●…▪ He endeavoured then mainly to extinguish the same; and Almig●…ty God most commonly for his part, with a powerful hand, 〈◊〉 stupendious works, concurred thereunto.   

S. Martin restores a Woman's son from Death to life: with other 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 things. Chap. 11.  
SAint Martin on a time going, by occasion of the divine ser●… to the City of Cha●…es, chanced to pass through a Village 〈◊〉 Gentiles, who at the fame of the Saint, going forth of the Tow●…▪ put themselves in the high way to behold him; and at the same ●…mour, concurred so great a multitude of the neighbour countries, 〈◊〉 all that plain was seen to be covered with an infinite people. 〈◊〉 the fight of which sheep, for that the most were led astray, the 〈◊〉 Bishop sighing, and elevated in spirit, begins to preach to the●… 〈◊〉 word of God, and to invite them to eternal salvation, and that wi●… such a feeling, and with such a voice, & action, as doubtless seem●… to them some what more then humane.  
Now while he thus discoursed, it pleased our Lord, that a Woman, whose only Son was dead at that time, coming be●… him, with hands lifted up, presented him to the blessed S. 〈◊〉, saying: we understand, that thou art the friend of God, restore me ●…y Son, which is the only Child I have. To the prayers of the ●…us Mother, were added the fighes, and intercessions of the ●…tanders by. So as S. Martin perceiving, how for the conversion of that people, some miracle were fit, lifting up his eyes and mind ●…o Heaven, and conceiving therice an undoubted certainty of the ●…iuine aid, he took the body in his arms, and in the presence ●…f all, put himself on his knees: and after a little space the party ●…rose up, and so restored the child revived to the Mother, astoni●…hed, and almost besides herself for joy: whereupon a cry was lif●…ed up to the stars, and all these people confessing Christ for true God, began in troops with great vehemency to run after S. Mar●…in, most instantly entreating him to make them Christians. And he ●…ull of iubiley, lifting up his hands over them, made them Cathe●…mens all at once, giving order besides, that they might be instru●…ted; affirming it, not unfit to make Cathecumen, in the open ●…ields, since in fields in like manner have Martyrs been consecrated.  
With this manner of purchase, our S. Martin rejoiced much more than with the increase of rents, or titles: and not only from manners, and minds of persons, but even from their memo●…y also, and eyes, endeavoured he to take away all appearance of ●…rofane, & Centill worship: nor were the difficulties of the enter●…rise, nor magnificence of Antiquityes, able to divert him from it. In the Castle of Ambatia, was a Tower of polished stones, heerto●…ore dedicated to a false God; which from the solid, and spacious ●…oundations, a●…sing more and more, came at the top, to finish in ●…me of a Pineaple, a work both of art, and cost alike, and not ●…nly curious to behold, but also very firm and durable.  
Now the holy Bishop, having appointed Marcellu●… a Priest ●…here dwelling, by all means to destroy such an abomination, & ●…ter some time finding the same, as yet on foot, rep●…ded his ●…cknes. But Marcellu●…, excusing himself with the difficulty thereof, ●…or that the making was such, as hardly would an Army be able to demolish it, much less a small number of Clerks, or feeble Monks which lived with him▪ S. Martin, without more reply, having re●…ourse to his wont tackle, spent all that night and morning ●…n prayer: When behold on a suden a vehement tempest of winds, ●…ightning, and thunder, impetuously smiting the building, fetched 〈◊〉 up by the ground, and laid it flat on the Earth▪  
In another place, stood a pillar of an unmeasurable great●…, on the top whereof, was an Idol. And S. Martin, being not able to endure so great an offence of the true God, determined by 〈◊〉 means to level it with the ground, but not finding commodity, either of Masons, or instruments to affect it, he craved likewise the divine succour, with so much ardour, and such efficacy withal, 〈◊〉 the prayer being ended, the effect very suddenly followed: because that in the sight-of-all the standers by, these appeared from Heaven another Pillar no less than that, which descended with such a force upon it, as reduced it into dust, together with the Idol.   

How S. Martin by the sign of the Cross, escaped Death: And how the peop●… were converted thereupon, to the Faith of Christ. Chap. 12.  
SAINT Martin, in a certain Bourge of the Infidels, having 〈◊〉 stroyed their Temple, would needs presently upon it, command a tall Pinetree there, that was consecrated to the Devil, to be felled to the ground. But the Countrypeople, who through the divine will had been quiet at the one, very tumultuously afterwards opposed themselves to the other. S. Martin endeavoured to pacify th●… blind people what he could, & to make them capable of the Tru●… showing by diverse reasons, how one sole God was the Maker of every thing, and that to him was due from the rational creature, all honour, oblation, and Sacrifice, and not to the Angel's thirst o●… of Paradise, deceitful, and proud, whom hitherto they had miserably served; and went proving withal, how in that Tru●… could be no matter worthy of veneration at all. Now while he w●… preaching in this sort with great charity, one of those Pagans, more impudent and more saucy than the rest, lifting up his voice, said to him: If thou hast such a confidence in this thy God, we ourselves will cut down this tree for thee, and do thou but set thy shoulders thereunto, and be propping it up; and if thy Lord stand for thee, 〈◊〉 thou sayest, thou shalt not suffer a whit. The magnanimous Bishop accepted the Condition, and all that barbarous company accorded likewise, exchanging very willingly the loss of such a plant, with the death of one, that was so great a Persecutor of the Idols.  
That Pine, of its nature, was bending in such sort, as it clee●…ly appeared, in cutting it down, wherabout of necessity it must light. On that very side, did S. Martin suffer himself to be placed, with his legs tied, by those rude rustiques, where he stood as a statue. And ●…e people presently upon this, divided themselves, very glad and ●…oyfull the while at so new a spectable, and some with axes, in haste began to cut down the Pinetree. The man of God, from thence ●…ad made his Monks to sequester themselues, who laboured in vain ●…o hinder such a proof, and being pale, and full of sadness, with tender eyes each moment stood expecting the loss of their dear Master, ●…nd the tree now ready to to●…er with redoubled strokes, seemed to threaten the ●…al. And yet stood S. Martin very firm and undaunted; when finally the ruin, with a terrible noise, directly bended towards him, & now was even ready to oppress him, when he without being troubled a whit, lifting up his arm, opposed thereto the sign of the Cross, and nothing else beside. A thing truly very admirable, that even at the wholesome sign so made, was suddenly that great trunk, as it were beat back with a violent Engine, & went with such a fury to the contrary side, as it almost had crushed the very Infidels themselues, who were hewing it down.  
What effect now this so sudden event might cause in their minds may more easily be imagined, then written. The Monks beholding now beyond all hope, S. Martin to be safe, and sound, with consolation and iubiley giving thanks to our Lord for it, wept out right, and the rude people being convinced with so great a miracle, holding up their hands and voices to Heaven, did finally yield, and acknowledge the error of their life past, and were willingly converred to Christ; insomuch as where before, there were no faithful, as it were, to be seen thereabouts, within a little time, by means of the virtue, and diligence, and the exemplar manner of the holy Bishop, there remained not a place, that was not very full of Christians, of Churches, and Monasteryes: Because the servant of God was wont, as soon as he had demolished any house of the Idols, to erect in the same situation, some devout Oratory, or Religious Convent, or other.   

S. Martin stays the flames of fire from doing any harm. With other wonders which he wrought. Chap. 13.  
WE may not seem to let pass in silence, a thing, which if it had not happened in public, might perhaps have seemed incredibie to some. S. Martin, having in those countries thereabout, set ●…ire to a very noble, & most ancient Temple of the Idols, it happened, that a wind arising, did carry the flame to a house hard by, not without manifest danger of dilating itself further, and of stirring up, with the sense of their private losses, the tender minds of that Community. S. Martin then being aware of the danger, with the wont courage of a lively faith, mounted up speedily to the roof, & puts himself against the flames; and it is certain, that at the only appearing of the Man of God, the flames, as timorous to offend him, in a moment seemed to fetch about, & to be retorted, and gathered within themselves, & in the sight of all, in striving against the violence of the wind, to retire in such sort, as the private buildings remained very safe; and S. Martin with his only presence, effected that which all the people, with their instruments, & water, could not so easily have brought to pass.  
In the Lepers Bourge (as they called it) likewise, having attempted to ruin a temple, very famous, no less for the great riche●… thereof, then for the much superstition used about it; he was repelled by the Gentiles, not without much outrage, and injuries d●… him. Whereupon, retiring himself in to some place thereby, he remained in fasting for three whole days together, and praying in 〈◊〉 and ashes: and at last appeared two champions unto him of the heavenly warfare, being armed with spears & shields, saying how they came, as sent from our Lord to succour him, against that multitude of swains. That therefore, he might return boldly to the enterprise again, and not fear any impediment whatsoever. So S. Martin did, and in the presence of all those Pagans, who through divine power, stood the while immoveable, he ruined the profane bulk from the very foundations, destroyed the Altars, & reduced the images unto dust. Whence succeeded another great benefit, that the Gentiles, perceiving themselves so bound and stupified, without being able to rise against the Bishop, knew the effect to be caused by a supreme power, and they all, as it were, came to believe in Christ, exclaiming with one voice, and confessing, that the only God of S. Martin, was to be adored, and that, for the Idols, they were to make no reckoning of them, since in such a necessity of theirs, they were not able to help themselves.  
Two other stupendious things, are recounted in this matter: one was, that in the country of Burgundy, there being a great number of country swains risen against S. Martin, in defence of a Temple, one of them drawing out his sword, set upon him; when the holy man, suddenly laying his cloak aside, offered him his naked neck, nor was that impious fellow any whit slack, to have given the stroke: but lifting up his arm, in the presence of all, fell flat backwards himself, and cried for peace, and pardon. The other was, that from a like disdain, another wicked fellow, being minded to kill him, the very sword fell out of his hand, in such wise, as it was never seen more. True it is, that he rarely came into such terms, because for the most part, S. Martin with meekness, and with preaching, would be tempering and persuading the people, in such sort, as themselves understanding the truth once, would condemn their own madness, & destroying the Idols with their proper hands, be converted to Christ. To which effect of conversion of souls, S. Martin was wont very industriously to make use of the great gift he had, in curing the sick, and delivering possessed persons of evil spirits; as among others, he did here with a person of great quality, by name Tetradius.  
This man, being moved to compassion, for a dear servant of his, very cruelly oppressed and tormented by the infernal enemy, with great instance entreated S. Martin to vouchsafe so much as to cure him. The holy man then, willed him to be brought before him: but the malign spirit would not endure, to be led from home resisting the same very obstinately, ever with biting, and scratching. Whereupon Tetradius, repairing to the holy Bishop, puts himself on his knees to beseech him, he would be pleased to come to the lodging himself. And with this occasion, S. Martin began very dexterously to help this soul, with showing himself somewhat backward therein; and with saying, that it was not lawful for him to enter into the house of a Gentile, and profane man; & could ●…ell how to discourse so well, as Tetradius promised him to become a Christian, if he could see but his servant delivered once of his pain, and malady. Upon this pact, S. Martin was content to go thither, ●…nd so holding his hand over him, on a sudden expelled the Devil. Nor did Tetradius fail of his word, being made a Cathecumen ●…ut of hand, and a little after baptised, and while he lived thenceforth, did always bear very great reverence, and love to S. Martin.   

The gifts, and natural talents of S. Martin: with a certain miracle that he wrought. Chap. 14.  
THus did this great Captain by all means continually wage war against the Prince of this world, and went dispossessing him apace from his ancient tyranny. Nor let any esteem this zeal of his, to be awhit devoid of prudence, or discretion: forasmuch as S. Martin being assisted with divine grace, and profound humility, could very well distinguish of inspirations, good or evil, as of the Angels themselves, of light or darkness, (which in diverse figures, and with sundry intentions, would visit him often.) Moreover howbeit, through many impediments, he was not able to attend to the schools; yet with a vivacity of wit, and with sobriety and vigilancy, together with such reading, as his businesses would permit, and much more through an excellent purity of hart, and by keeping the mind ever fixed in God; he arrived to so high a degree of true science, & of a solid, and masculine eloquence, that he was able to expound very difficult places of divine Scripture, with incredible clearness. And in answering to cases of conscience could always touch the very point of matters; as also in discourses, as well public, as private, teach and move the Auditors, with so much more fruit, as he sought ever more, the only glory of God, and abhorred his own.  
But above all, he would give a very singular account of the Christian faith, and was sufficient to refute with very pregnan●… reasons, whomesoever should seem to have the impious boldness to assail the same, He was wont also, to gather very profitable, and spiritual conceits, from things which daily would occur unto him. As once when he saw a sheep newly shorn, he pleasantly said to the standers by: This sheep here, hath already fulfilled the precept of the Gospel, because of two coats, he hath parted with one, to such as had need; and so should you likewise do. Beholding one, that was keeping of swine, very cold, and but half covered with a poor, and curtayle coat of skins, he said: Behold Adam, chased out of Paradise; but let us, leaving the old Adam, cloth ourselves with the new.  
There was a great and goodly meadow, where in one part the oxen fed; another foully rooted up by swine; the third as yet untouched, and diapered with pleasant colours, gave wonderful de●…ight to human eyes. Now S. Martin, turning to his companions, said: That piece which you see so fed on, may seem to demonstrate the ●…tate of Matrimony, because that howbeit, it have not wholly lost the ●…onour of its greenness, yet is it deprived of the grace, and ornament ●…f the Hours thereof: that other so grubd, and turned up, as you see ●…y those unclean beasts, resembles the filthy vice of Fornication: but ●…he remainder, which hath not hitherto, suffered any manner of ●…iury, represents the glory of Virginity, since being clothed with ●…ery frequent and fresh herbs, rich of fruits, & distinguished with ●…leasant flowers, in manner of fine pearls, emeralds, and rubies, ●…hynes above all the beauty of art, and workmanship of hand. O ●…lessed semblance, and right worthy of God, forasmuch, as there is ●…othing in the world, that may seem to compare with the gift of ●…oly Virginity!  
In the visit of his diocese, arriving once at a certain river, in ●…ompany of many other servants of God; he saw a great shoal of ●…oule, very busy a fishing, and greedily attending to gorge themsel●…es. Then said ●…e to such, as were about him: these revenous birds, ●…esemble much the infernal enemies, that lie always in wait, to ●…atch the unwary souls, to take them on a sudden, and to devour ●…hem up, without end of satiating themselves. To these words, he ●…dded, a notable miracle, which was, to command the foul, with ●…he powerful virtue of words, to leave the waters, wherein they were floating, & to go their ways to the uplands, & desert places. At which voice, being suddenly assembled together, leaving the waters, they flew to the woods and mountains; while the multitude of Spectators with reason remained astonished to behold, that S. Martin should have likewise power to command the birds.  
In this manner then, each creature served the purified eyes of the Saint, as a lively glass of truth, and without labour, or rather with delight, gathering, as I said, the best documents from every thing, he came always to maintain his hart, and of those he dealt with, in chaste thoughts, procuring with all possible industryes, that rational souls, should dispose themselves, to afford a clean and grateful lodging to the divine Goodness. To which effect, likewise he sought to keep his subjects exercised in prayer, to be prompt in pardoning injuries & offences, and lastly to exchange the delights of the Sense, with the pleasures of the Spirit.   

S. Martin through fasts, and prayers to Almighty God, appeaseth the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Valentinian the Emperor. Chap. 15.  
THe charity of S. Martin was not contained within those 〈◊〉 high and Noble works of Mercy alone, but extended itself very tenderly also to the Corporal works, and exterious necessities, in curing of the sick, in visiting, and defending of the Orphans and widows, succouring the afflicted, and oppressed with unjust power, or by any other human accident, showing no less promptness in undertaking such like erterprises, than greatness of courage, in sustaining them, and setting them forwards by all means possible. To which purpose, we may not conceal, how 〈◊〉 being gone upon such occasions, to the Court of Valentinian th●… Emperor, a man very proud, and haughty by nature, and beside by his Arrian Wife, much provoked against the Catholics; he had here a large field likewise, to show his constancy in. In regard, that the Emperor, having heard before hand of the coming of the Man of God, and of the affairs he was to treat of, suddenly gave order, he should not be admitted into the Palace. So as S. Martin, after he had once, or twice, endeavoured in vain to get audience, no●… losing awhit of his courage the while, nor yet troubled for the repulses had, with his wont faith, and fortitude, laid hold of his ancient remedies. He puts on a course Cilice, sprinkles himself with ashes, takes leave of all sorts of meat, & drink. From thence entering into sighs, and prayers, he persevered so long, till on the seaventh day, an Angel from Heaven appeared to him, & bade him boldly go to the Palace, for the gates, though of purpose shut against him, should now stand open to him, & the pride of the merciless Prince, should fall by one means, or other.  
With this confidence, S. Martin going thither, found his entry so easy, as without any impediment, he came to the room, where Valentinian himself was, who seeing him a far off, was exceeding angry therewith at the first, and with frowning looks, cried ●…ut upon his Guards for admitting him in; and thereupon stood immoveable, without saying any more, or giving any manner of entertainment to the blessed Bishop: When behold on a sudden, the Royal Throne was environed with flames, which approaching to that part of his body, wherewith he sat, enforced him against his will to stand on his feet; and was affrighted thereat in such sort ●…s being humbled, with many embraces, and courtesyes, he now ●…ceiued him, whom a little before he could not endure to see: & ●…mmediately, without expecting supplications from him did favour ●…im with whatsoever he desired. After which, he would invite him ●…ery often to familiar discourse, yea, and to banquets also: & lastly ●…t his parting, offered him diverse rich presents. But the faithful ●…iend of Poverty, with much edification of all the Court, without ●…ccepting of any one, repaired to his cure, and diocese, as soon as ●…ight be. In this manner, the Servant of Christ, with patience, and ●…ith prayer overcoming all obstacles, guided his busynesses to a ●…yre port: & as he suffered not himself, to be dejected a whit with ●…dignityes, and affronts; so kept he himself amidst favours, and ●…rosperityes, perpetually immu●…uable.   

●…ow S. Martin was honoured, and esteemed by the Emperor Maximus, t●… the great honour of the Clergy. Chap 16.  
IF ever any Prelate were welcome and made much of, by great Princes, this holy man had as much respect of them as any: for 〈◊〉 the number of his most rare gifts, shined no less Apostolical Majesty, then Religious modesty. Whereof Maximus the Emperour●…mong ●…mong others, hath given us a very good testimony: who within a ●…hile after the Death of Valentinian, being assumpted by the soul●…iours to the Empire, though on the one side, he were very tenaci●…us, and committed many extorsions; yet on the other, showed he ●…imselfe, to be desirous of eternal salvation, and a man of time●…ous conscience, being much furthered therein by the Empress his ●…ife, a woman of great virtue, and no less ready to favour, for her ●…art, the Catholic Prelates, then that Arrian was solicitous, to ●…inder them.  
By these two personages now, it cannot be expressed, how 〈◊〉. Martin was reverenced, and esteemed. So as going at those times ●…ikewise to the Court, by occasion of delivering of certain priso●…ers, releasing of Bandits, and recovering from the Treasury some goods confiscated, and of other such works of paternal charity; Maximus did receive him with singular veneration, and after he had ●…ispatched with him the aforesaid businesses, he would call him a●…de, and very willingly hear him discourse, of the uncertainty of present things, of the Eternity of the future world, of the glory 〈◊〉 the Blessed, and of the unspeakable greatness of God. At which discourses, the devout Queen was always present, being his de●… consort no less in Religion, then in the Empire, sitting humbly 〈◊〉 the ground, still hanging in suspense, with all recollecton, and silence, on the words, and gestures of the man of God; wherewith now being warmed, she was soon inflamed with so great a fervour, as acknowledging with a lively, and most chaste faith in th●… person of her Guest, the same of Christ, she determined to represent in herself both the Sisters of Lazarus: and as in sitting at th●… feet of the Saint, and hearing of the divine word, she had imitated Mary; so in serving, and feeding him she would not be a whi●… inferior to Martha.  
With this purpose, she entreated him, very earnestly to daign●… to receive a sober refection particularly from her: which S. Mar●… precisely denying her, as he, who abhorred all vanity, and such li●… familiarity with women, yet she very firm in her deliberation had recourse to her husband, and with him together, began afresh to importune the Bishop; in so much, as partly not to contristate such Princes, and partly not to prejudice the cause of the poor, which then he handled, at last suffered himself to be overcome. Where●…pon the good Empress, without other waiters as all, having 〈◊〉 him at the table, began to put before him the meat which she had dressed and seasoned with her own hands, and likewise presen●… him his drink, and in sum, during the dinner, like an humble handmaid, stood attending with her eyes modestly fixed on the Table, & with her whole person attentive and prompt to the service. And finally, the cloth being reverently taken away, and the remainder, with the crumbs, with diligence voided, she took th●… with her, most triumphant, and glad, with infinite thanks to God, as one laden with many exceeding rich spoils▪  
Surely, not without a great confusion, and shame to some women of our times, who not bearing respect, either to the Decre●… of Counsels, or even to the dreadful Mystery of the Altar, are won●… themselves no less impious, then impudently, to be served by the Priests of the Highest, instead of Waiters, and Pages. Though indeed the Clerks themselves for their parts, are not wholly witho●… fault, since they for the vile interests of ambition, or gain, perm●… that degree to be trampled on by men, which even the Angels themselues do reverence. From which adulation and baseness of theirs, how far off S. Martin ever was, and with what decorum, especially in public, he conserved the Episcopal dignity, may be easily gathered by that which we shall set down in the next Chapter.   

How S. Martin was feasted by the Emperor: & how he bore himself therein. Chap. 17.  
THe aforesaid Maximus had very oftentimes invited S. Martin to dine with him, but always in vain; yet notwithstanding he so persevered with intreatyes, as finally he yielded thereunto, with no less gladness of the Emperor, then if he had conquered a kingdom. There were thither invited withal, as to a great feast, three principal Lords of the Court, the Consul Euodius, and two Counts, the one the Brother, the other the uncle to the Emperor: between these two, was placed the Priest, who was S. Martin's companion. The holy Bishop's Chair, was put besides Maximus himself. The Feast was now by this time, pretty forwards, when according to custom, there was a Cup of wine presented to the Emperor, who commanded it suddenly to be commended to S. Martin, expecting with a kind of ambition, to receive it afterwards from his hand. But the great Prelate, having tasted thereof, drank to his Priest, giving to understand thereby, in that assembly was none more worthy than he to pledge him; esteeming he had done ill, if either the Emperor himself, or his chiefest Favourits, or nearest to him, had been preferred by him before that poor Servant of God.  
They received all much edification heerat: & being slighted in that case, took it so much the better, as the most of the other Bishops in Court were subject to base flattery, and with much indignity sought the grace and favour of the Officers, and Ministers of Cesar. True it is, that this liberty, and confidence of S. Martin, had not been so convenient and fit for all, not having equal splendour of life, nor such divinity of miracles, as he. Whereof, though we have mentioned some already, notwithstanding of an infinite number of others yet remaining, we shall not spare to set down some few, which without prejudice to the Reader, and in some manner without injury of the Saint himself, may not well be let passed.   

How S. Martin miraculously escaped burning. Chap. 18.  
SAINT Martin being gone, in the midst of winter, to visit a place of his diocese, a lodging was prepared him by his Clerks, in the precincts of the Church, and to air the chamber there w●… a great fire made underneath, and instead of a bed, was strewed a good quantity of dry litter and straw; whereon S. Martin at night reposing, and settling himself to sleep, and being accustomed (as we have said) to lie on the hard ground, could not away with such softness, and as it were displeased therewith, immediately putting the straw aside, returned to his ordinary manner of lodging: but a●… the flore was broken, and full of cle●…s, it happened, that the force of the fire piercing through them, by little, and little, it came to enkindle the straw, and furiously to burn. Whereupon, S. Martin awaking, and seeing himself suddenly in so great a danger, without having time, or to say better, advertence to call upon the divine aid, with a natural motion which he had, got up on his feet, & ran in haste to open the door, but it pleased God he found it so b●…red, as that while he laboured and toiled himself, to put back the bolt, the fire approaching had now taken hold of his Cassock.  
Then finally S. Martin returning to himself, and perceiving that his remedy consisted not in flying away, but in craving aid from heaven, taking hold of the shield of faith, and prayer; 〈◊〉 himself on his knees in the midst of the flames, which even hee●… likewise suddenly, as it were affrighted thereat, withdrew themselves, while he stood immoveable still pursuing his prayers. In the mean time, the Monks, who were companions to the Saint, ●…emayning in the next Chamber, being awaked with the noise, and terrified at the chance, by force, and not without some delay & difficulty, broke open the door, and thinking by that time to have found the blessed Father consumed and dead, they saw him, beyond all hope, amidst the flames both alive, and entire; and coming boldly unto him, took out his body from thence. The blessed man confessed afterwards, not without sighs, his own fault. For that he having among other his spiritual employments, an ancient custom, in awaking always, before any other thing, to lift up his mind to God, and to sanctify with the perfume of prayer, the Altar of his hart, and so to shut up the Temple of his soul, that no unclean, or hurtful beast of evil thoughts, might seem to put ●…heir foot thereinto; yet howsoever at that time, either out of human fear, or subtlety of the enemy, being quite, as it were, besides himself, and wholly unmindful of his good custom, he had first made his recourse to visible remedies, then to the invisible: affirming for certain, that he was in extreme danger of burning, being alone, while he laboured, with a troubled mind to open the bolt. But that after he had betaken himself to the arms of the holy Cross, and prayer, the flames were on a sudden (as he said) so contracted within themselves, as they left him untouched, through divine power.   

How Euantius was cured of a grievous sickness by S. Martin: and what other notable things he wrought beside. Chap. 19  
ABout this time, a certain honourable person, and a man of much piety, by name Euantius, fell mortally sick, and being now as it were despaired of by the Physicians, with a great deal of faith called for S. Martin, who without all delay, went his ways thither. An admirable thing: he was not yet gone half way, when the sick man felt the benefit thereof, and having suddenly received health, came in person to meet with him, and to entertain him as a Guest. And S. Martin being willing to depart the next day, with humble intreatyes and much importunity, he was enforced at last to remain a while with him. In that interim, a Page of the house, was stung with a venomous Serpent, so pestiferous indeed, as he was now even ready to give up the last breath. When lo, the same Euantius, taking him on his shoulders, with great confidence, carried him to the feet of the Saint. And now was the evil already spread through all his limbs; when you might have seen the skin to swell in every vein, and the vital parts to stretch like a bladder, till S. Martin which his blessed hand feeling them here & there, at last with his finger touched the wound itself. At the point whereof, might clearly be seen, the poison retiring itself, to run to the fingers end, and thence by the narrow mouth of the wound, with long spinning to gush forth mingled with blood, like the milk which sprinkles from the tea●…, being hardly wrung. Wherewith the youth arose up ●…ound, and the standers by remained astonished, confessing under Heaue●… nothing to be any awhit comparable to S. Martin. Nor was the work less famous, that follows after.  
There was in the City of Chartres, a young girl of twelve year old, so dumb, as till that time, she could never frame a wor●… Now S. Martin being in the company of other two Bishops, V●… tinian and Vi●…us by name, the said little girl, was presented to him by her sad Father, that by his means, her tongue might be loosed: when as S. Martin, with much modesty began to put of that office to those two Prelates; alleging, that to their faith, and virtue, nothing would be impossible. But they on the other side, uniting their intreatyes with the Suppliant, began to urge him much to vouchsafe to comfort him. Whereupon S. Martin, without more delay, showing no less piety, in the prompt execution, than humility in the first refusal, gave order, that the multitude of people, should stand off, and he remaining only, with the Bishops, and with the Father of the child, according to his custom puts himself into prayer: then blessing a little oil, with the preface of the Exorcism, and taking hold of the tongue of the dumb Creature with his fingar, he dropped a little of that holy liquor upon it, not without present effect. Because the Girl, being demanded what was her Father's name, suddenly answered thereunto very readily▪ Whereat, the said Father, lifting up his voice with joy, & tears at once, very dear embraced the knees of the Man of God, affirming this to be the first word, that he had ever heard his daughter speak; who afterwards, with the universal wonder of all, retained still the use of her speech. And this truly was upon one alone▪ but that which now we shall tell you, concerned many together.  
For there being entered into the family of a principal man, by name Licontius, a kind of disease, so grievous and contagious withal, as that throughout the whole house, there was nothing to be seen, here and there, but the sick to lie, up and down, without hope or strength: Licontius for a last refuge, craved succour of S. Martin, by letters; to whom the blessed man answered, it would be a very difficult thing to do, overseeing in spirit, that the scourge of God, was over that house: and yet notwithstanding for compassion, he disposed himself to pacify by all means the heavenly wrath, and retiring himself, he continued in fasting, and cilices for seven whole nights and days together, with so fervent prayer, as finally he obtained what he would. Whereupon Licontius, being exceedingly comforted, went flying in haste, with a thousand thanks, to bring ●…e good news to S. Martin. And offered him moreover, a hundred ●…unds of silver: Which the holy Bishop, neither refused, nor alto●…ether accepted, but with a mean between both, & not suffering ●…e same to enter into the gates of his Monastery, applied it suddenly 〈◊〉 the ransom of Captives; When it being suggested to him by the ●…ōks, to retain some part thereof, for the necessities of the house, which at that time, was in some distress, he answered, that the or●…nary assignment of his Church, was sufficient for that purpose.  
This cure wrought S. Martin, and many others of sundry infir●…ityes, as we●… in presence, as in absence. But what wonder is it, ●…at he should have power upon humane bodies, who had so much ●…ower over spirits? This is certain, the possessed being brought to ●…e Cathedral Church to be delivered by him, as soon as he put but ●…s foot forth of his Cell, to come to the City, they would begin to ●…hreech with horrid gestures, and houling, full of dreadfulness to ●…ehold: insomuch as the Clerks, with this sign only, were wont to ●…nderstand before hand of the Bishops coming thither. And he be●…des, not as other Exorcists are wont, who through force of threats, ●…nd cries, use to cast out Devils; but being sprinkled with ashes, with wearing sharp cilices, with prostrating himself on the ground ●…nd with the arms of holy prayer withal, would master them. Nor yet let any think the while, that among so many graces from Heaven, that S. Martin was wholly without the Gift of Prophecy ●…lso. Forasmuch as diverse accidents being far remote in time, & ●…lace, were manifested to him, partly immediately from God, part●…y also through the ministry (as hath been said) of the Angels. Of which, and of many other marvels beside (for brevity sake untouched by us) whosoever would seem to have a more distinct ●…otice, let him read Sulpitius Severus in his Dialogues: howbeit, he also, not to be tedious, confesseth, that of purpose, he had concealed 〈◊〉 great part of them. But now, it is time, in fine, for us to come to the last act of this representation, certainly no less notable, or less perfect, than the others; but so much more worthy of applause, as it more assures us of the reward.   

The Death of S. Martin, with the Lamentation made by all, & the great 〈◊〉 for his Body. Chap. 20.  
THE blessed Man, was now arrived to the 81. year, or as others will have it, to the 87. of his age, when through divine revelation, he himself knew, that his end approached, and clearly foretold it to his disciples. But yet for all that, continued he his wont devotions and abstinences, and diligently attended to his pastoral office. And because, in those days, there fell out a scandalous discord, among the Clerks of a certain place, which is called Candacum, he determined in person to go thither, to quiet them; esteeming he could not more happily end his life, then by leaving all his Churches in good peace and concord. Being gone then thither, and with divine grace, having settled matters, he was now ready to turn back to his Monastery again, when he began to feel in himself, some notable defect of forces: and therefore gathering his disciples together, he told them how his Tabernacle was now ready to be dissolved, whence of necessity he must needs leave them.  
When lo, amidst very doleful sighs and tears, there was raised this common voice amongst them, saying: And why do you leave us so, holy Father? To whom do you recommend us so disconsolate, and afflicted? The ravenous wolves will assail your flock, and the Shepherd being lost, who is he that can defend us? We know very well, you desire to go to Christ, but your rewards are safe enough, and guerdons which differred a while, are not lessened a whit: then take you pity on us rather, who remain in such manifest danger. The Servant of Christ, being mollifyed at these words, could not contain himself from weeping, but with great affect, turning himself to Heaven, said: O Lord, if I yet be necessary to this people, I fly no labour, thy most holy will be done. Wherein, being as it were put in balance, he showed, 〈◊〉 knew not, which of the two was dearest to him, either to remain on earth for Christ, or to leave the earth for Christ. Wherein he gave example to the faithful, how in such prayers, they are not to incline with desire, either to the one, or other side; but a with real, and simple indifferency, to remit themselves in all, and through all, to the divine arbitrement.  
The good Bishop, for some days now, was tormented with a ●…uell fever, and yet nevertheless continued he night and day in ●…editation and vigils, sustaining with the vehemency of his spirit▪ ●…e weakness of his body, lying so, in that his soft and delicate bed 〈◊〉 ashes, and hayrecloth; when being with much instance intrea●…d by his Monks, to suffer at least some vile ●…ackloth to lie under ●…im: It is not fit, said he, O children, that a Christian should seem 〈◊〉 dye otherwise, then upon ashes: and if I give you not example ●…ereof, the fault is mine. This said, he turned with his face upwards, to cast up his eyes and hands to the stars. In which posi●…on now immoveable, lying as drawing to his end, he was v●…ry ●…rnestly entreated by the Priests (who in great number were ●…ome to visit him) to turn himself at least on one side, to take some ●…st, but he replied: Let me alone Brothers, and suffer me rather to ●…oke to heavenwards, then to the earth, and to put my soul into ●…to the right way, being even now ready to pass to the Creator.  
After this, seeing the Devil to appear before him: What dost ●…ou here (said he) thou bloody beast? Thou shalt find nothing 〈◊〉 me. O Thief! Arahams' bosom lies open, and ready for me. And with these words, he yielded up his spirit, upon Saturday about ●…idnight, in the time of Honorius, and Arcadius Emperors, in the ●…eare of our Lord 397. or as others will have it 402. having his ●…ce so resplendent, and all those members and fle●…h of his, so ill in●…eated before, and mortified, now so white, fresh, and sweet to ●…ehold, as they seemed already to be transformed into the state of ●…ory. At the very same time, were heard most sweet ha●…onyes ●…boue, of Angelical Quires; and this not only in those parts, but ●…uen likewise in the City of Colen, where the blessed Se●…erinus Bi●…op, together with his Archdeacon, was pa●… of so grateful ac●…ents also: and the same Bishop, had reue●… beside, how in that ●…und, so continued in his ears, the severe ministers of the eternal ●…ustice, were, at his passage, though in vain, withholding and ●…xamining S. Martin. Whence every one may consider with what ●…gour, sinners are there handled, since so without respect, the very ●…st are so strictly dealt with.  
The news being spread abroad of his des●…e, who were ●…le to express the mourning of all, and the solemnity of the Exe●…uyes there made? When not only of Towers, and all the Country ●…ereabous, but even from sundry other neighbour Cities likewise all the Inhabitants came forth to honour the body, while the co●… trary affects at once then combated in their souls, both of joy & 〈◊〉 nes: notwithstanding the number of those was much greater, 〈◊〉 moved with the loss of such a Father, Pastor, and Master, and 〈◊〉 their only refuge, went sighing and lamenting bitterly amidst 〈◊〉 hymns & canticles. But especially the assembly of two tho●… Monks, all trained up by the S●…int; and partly a chaste and 〈◊〉 Choir of Virgins, all elevated in spirit, & divine praises, gave fo●… pious, and noble spectacle to behold.  
With such a train then, a great deal more glorious, th●…n 〈◊〉 triumphs of Emperors, and of Caesar's, were the sacred spoyle●… 〈◊〉 posed, in 〈◊〉 certain place of that Country, until it was thro●… determined, where it should be placed, in a proper and stable 〈◊〉 pulcher. Now there being in those days, a great controversy 〈◊〉 thereabouts, between the inhabitants of Towers, and those of 〈◊〉 tiers; in the one of which places, S. Martin had led a good while 〈◊〉 private life; and in the other had governed the Church to his dyi●… day: And they being not able, in so great diversity of minds, by 〈◊〉 mane ways▪ to come unto accord therein; and both the one and 〈◊〉 their people contending with each other about the same, in strict 〈◊〉 and custody of the sacred treasure: It pleased our Lord, that 〈◊〉 of Poytiers, about midnight should remain all oppressed, with 〈◊〉 profound a sleep, as that their adversaries being aware thereof, 〈◊〉 the space to let down the body quietly by a window, into a Ba●… there ready in the river. Whereupon look with how much joy & triumph for so great a purchase, they went conducting it home: 〈◊〉 the others, became as sorrowful & perplexed for the loss, the next day morning.  
There was afterwards, by the Bishops, successors to S. Ma●… built to his honour in Towers, a sumptuous & magnificent Church, where with great veneration was kept, that noble instrument 〈◊〉 divine wisdom, until this unhappy age, in which the Sun ha●… not seen a worse deed, than the impious scattering of those blessed Relics in the river of Lu●…ra, by the hands of sacrilegious Heretics. But howbeit, through divine permission, they had the force, to disperse the bones, and ashes of the Saint: Yet were they no●… able, nor ever shall be, to extinguish the memory of his manifold miracles, nor the good odour of his excellent Virtues.   
FINIS.   

S. FULGENTIUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

NAture and Art, behold conjoined in one,  
A Genius, void of affectation,  
Most affable; Victorious grace to fight  
Against rebellious sense, and appetite:  
The world o'ercome by ●…lighting it, a Crown  
Of glory got, and by contempt Renown.  
See how, although a thousand crosses band  
Against the good, in spite of all they stand  
Firm in their godly purpose; moved no more  
Than rocks by waters, forced on the shore.  
Happy Self-will, when Will itself subdues,  
And for a guide, and sternesman Heaven doth use.    

THE LIFE OF S. FULGENTIUS BISHOP OF RUSPA.  Written by a Disciple of his. 

The Parentage, Birth, and Education of S. Fulgentius: & his Vocation to Religion. Chap. I.  
AT such time as Hunnericus King of the Vandals took Carthage, Cordianus Senator of that City, with all the others of the same Order, being spoilt of his goods, and driven into Italy, died there, leaving Sons behind him, whereof two of them, with hope of recovering their Father's estate, returning into Africa found their house to be given away already to an Arrian Priest, so as they had no commodity to recover the same, and to inhabit in Carthage, though they had the favour to enter into some part of their substance, with which they got themselves into the City of Least; where one of them, by name Claudius, having taken to wife, a pious & honourable Woman called Mariana, by her had the blessed Fulgentius, whose life we take in hand to write.  
This woman having in her fi●… years lost her husband, took ●…o small care to set her son to school. And forasmuch as in those times, was made great account of the Greek tongue, the suffered him not to attend to the Latin, until such time, as he had the works of Homer by hart, and was also well vers●…d in the Poet Me●…ander: and as the youth was of a noble wit, and of a happy memory, he so profited in that study, as in the Greek pronunciation and accent, he seemed, as it were, a natural Grecian. After this, he gave himself to the Latin, wherein likewise he made a happy progress: but as it chanceth in like cases, very suddenly he was forced to leave them both, while the government of the whole family fell upon him; but yet so, as in that manag●… of his estate he would never subtr●…ct himself from the obedience of his Mother. Who in her widowhood, took meru●…ilous consolation from the good deportements of her prudent son, perceiving how dexterous he was, in entertaining friends, reasonable in opposing enemies, how meek towards servants and severe withal, how diligent in the care of his patrimony, and discreet in purchasing the grace of Princes, whereby he came very soon to such reputation, as he was made 〈◊〉 chief Magistrate of the Common wealth.  
Now while in this Office, he endeavours to proceed with all sweetness, and to gather the Imposts without exaction, o●… the offence of any; it was not long, ere the weight of secular businesses appeared very grievous, and the vanity of pomp & vain felicity, came to be tedious to him. Wherewith he began to give himself to prayer more than ordinary, to the use of d●…out books, and to converse with Religious: through whose conversation he was well advised that as transitory pleasures and delights, are not there among them, so are neither the disgusts, nor molestations of the world: he perc●…iued them secure, and free from calumnye●…, and with holy l●…e to be most conjoined within themselves: he considered many young men amongst them, who with a glorious victory over their appetits, cō●…erued perfect, and perpetu●…l chastity. With whose examples being moved, he did finally break forth with himself, into these words.  
Alas! we wretches of the world to what end is all ●…his toiling, without hope of eternal goods! What shall the world be ever able ●…o afford us! If we like ●…oy (though indeed better it were to mourn with safety, then to laugh with danger) how much more ●…cond ●…e these men that have the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 settled & quiet in God Who have nothing to do with these Sergeants, or Provost-marshals! h●… fear, but of sin: who attend to nothing but to observe the divine Precepts; nor are anxious a whit to lose their possessions, in gaining their living with their proper hands, day by day. Let us imitate so virtuous a people: Let us likewise undertake so commendable a a manner of life; and let not the light be in vain which God hath given us: Change we, our former customs, and alter we our employments, so far forth, as whereas hither to we have contended with our friends about points of Nobility, we may now strive no less in poverty with the servants of God. If heretofore, we applied ourselves to solicit debtors, we may now attend to conue●… Sinners. Our Lord Christ, is wont to frame holy Doctors, eue●… of the profan●…st exactors. Fron Customhouse itself was S. Ma●… called to the Apostle ship: Which is not yet spoken to make comparison between him and us, but only that if he having left the ministry of the Tole-howse, have received the office of preaching, why may it not be lawful for me, laying down my Procuratourship, 〈◊〉 take penance in hand? Our refuge is God: whence I am not to fear at the age I am of, since he himself, who afforded the gift of continence to so many young men that live in the Monastery, may likewise afford it me a Sinner. With such thoughts as these revolved in mind, at last he resolved to leave wholly the delights of the world and to give himself to a Monastical life.   

S. Fulgentius presents himself to Bishop Faustus, to be his Disciple▪ 〈◊〉 the difficultyes he had with his Mother Mariana. Chap▪ 2.  
TRue it is, that not to pass with hazard from one extrem●… 〈◊〉 another, S. Fulgentius began first to ●…ast secretly, then to shu●… by little and little, his ancient acquaintance, and now more 〈◊〉 ever to attend to his devotions. To which effect, being re●…yred 〈◊〉 the country, through divine grace, he went so far, as that being yet a Layman, he seemed to be a perfect Monk. His familiars in the mean time, were astonished therea●…; nor wanted there some▪ according to custom, who attributed such abstinence, & retirement of the young man, unto baseness of mind, or to some other sinister accident. But he being inflamed every day more & more, in the 〈◊〉 of perfection, while it seemed to him▪ he had made sufficient 〈◊〉 of himself, being touched with a discourse of S. Augustin▪ upon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Psalm, he determined to put off no longer the change of his ha●…t, to discover his vocation, and to quit himself wholly of the dan●…r of those secular commer●…es, with further hope beside, to be able 〈◊〉 help others with his example: and not without reason. For ●…hat man how mean a condition soever he were of, would once 〈◊〉 ashamed, or afraid to become a Monk, in beholding such a one 〈◊〉 S. Fulgentius was, with so notable a contempt of all sensuality, and 〈◊〉 greatness, so to walk by the way of abstinence, and humility? ●…d thus having great familiarity with the Bishop Faustus, who for 〈◊〉 Catholic Faith, being put forth of his Church, by the wic●…d King, had built him a monastery in those confines, and there ●…ued very holily with others; where it pleased Fulgentius, to link ●…imselfe with him, and under his obedience to dedicate himself to ●…e divine worship.  
But he well understanding the Parentage of the young man, & ●…w deliciously he had been bred, began to suspect some manner ●…f fiction in the matter, and said to him: Wherefore, my Son, do ●…u jest so with the Servants of God? For a●… thou likely to be a ●…onke, and to relinquish so on a sudden all thy delicacyes▪ and ex●…ange thy banquets into gross fare, and those sumptuous 〈◊〉 of ●…pparell, into course and abject clothing? Thou hadst first need to ●…e a less dainty Layman, and so perhaps we shall believe thou wilt, and mayst forsake the world. But the young man, herewith being more inflamed, taking, and reverently kissing the hand of 〈◊〉, with his eyes fixed on the Earth, replied: He is well able, O Father, to give me power▪ who hath afforded 〈◊〉 the will; do you but only give me leave to follow you: Open me the door, admit me as one of your disciples, and God shall, I trust, find ways ●…ough to deliver me from my iniquities. The blessed old man hea●…ing this, had a scruple to resist the diuin●… inspiration, and without ●…ore ado, consented to the young man, saying: Remain them with us, my Son, as thou wilt thyself. Let us try for some days, if deeds, will accord: with words, or no: God grant my fear may prove to be in vain, and thy desire stable. And thus S. Fulgentius, being received into probation, the matter was suddenly diwlged, to the joy of the good, & confusion of the wicked: no●… was there wanting some of his dearest companions, that being pricked therewithal, even spurned like wise at the world, and no less than he, became religious.  
But the forlorn Mariana, as soon, as she had understood 〈◊〉 had passed, as if she had presently lost her Son, wholly anxi●… and troubled, being full of tears and laments, flew immedi●… to the Convent: Where being half besides her 〈◊〉, with a 〈◊〉 of Outrages, she began to exclaim against Faustus, to render 〈◊〉 Son again to his Mother, the Master to his Servants; and how it was no office of a good Priest; so to ruin the house of a 〈◊〉 widow. Such words as these, notwithstanding were not of 〈◊〉 enough to sting the prudent old man; but rather with a fair & se●… countenance, compassionating the motherly affects, h●…l so 〈◊〉 to appease her, as he suffered her not yet to see her son. Then 〈◊〉 riana, as knowing well, how much otherwise that swee●… Chi●…●…ers esteemed and reverenced her, and how great love he ba●…e 〈◊〉 thought it expedient to plant herself at the gate of the Monaste●… and there to fix herself, as ●…he did, lamenting outright, and wi●… great exclamations exaggerating much her sad misfortune, in 〈◊〉 ling again and again upon her deer Fulgentius by name.  
This first temptation, gave a great shake to the good yo●… man, while the sighs and groa●…es of his so dear & loving Mo●… even pierced him to the hart; but yet nevertheless, lifting up 〈◊〉 mind unto heaven, with a pious cruelty enforced himself not 〈◊〉 hear them; until such time, as being assisted by divine grace, 〈◊〉 remained triumphant over flesh and blood. Whereupon the blessed ●…austus, not without cause framing a great conceit of such a volition, turning himself to the Monks, & with a cheerfulness wi●… said to them: This young man here▪ shall well be able to suffer any pains of religion whatsoever, since for Christ he hath been ab●… so to neglect the dolour of a Mother. Who going and coming to and fro more than once, after in vain she had given many mol●… lestations to the Bishop, and laid many snares before her Son being now quite tired withal, she finally gave over.   

S. Fulgentius makes a donation of all to his Mother: and was after●… terribly persecuted by an Arrian Priest. Chap. 3.  
IN the mean while, S. Fulgentius giving himself to the ma●… tion of the body, among other voluntary afflictions, & 〈◊〉 ties, did whol●… 〈◊〉, not o●…ly from wine, but even from 〈◊〉 also, being th●… common cates of those places. Whereupo●… in short time he became to be spent, in such sort, as the withered skin ●…s ●…left on all sides, and by little & little all filled over with a 〈◊〉. ●…ence truly, whereas some thought he should be feign to cool●…●…anguish in divine service, he endeavoured notwithstanding to go ●…ayes forward, and to attend to the health of his soul, remitting ●…t same of the body, to the providence of the Creator; & was not ●…hit deceived of his trust the while, since without other help, his ●…alth was very soon restored him again to the great consolatiō●…f all. And now the time of renunciation being come, he thought ●…xpedient to make a free donation of all his goods unto his Mo●…er, as well to solace therewith the sad desolation of the afflicted ●…iddow, and likewise to bridle a certain obstinate and stiff-necked ●…nger Brother of his, making account, that the 〈◊〉 at least of ●…osing hi●… goods, would force him so to be very tractable, and o●…dient to his Mother.  
After this, there arising a new persecution against the Catholi●…ue Bishops, Faustus was enforced to fly away, and to hide himself ●…eer and there, to the great damage & prejudice of his Monks. ●…hereupon Fulgentius, with his leave retired himself into ano●…er Monastery thereby, where a great friend of his, by name Felix●…as ●…as Superior, who knowing the wo●… and sanctity of Fulgen●…us, received him not only with great content, but further vse●… all ●…dustry, to substitute him in the government: which being not ●…le to gain of Fulgentius; after a long contention and stri●…e between them about 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of subjection, he obtained at last, 〈◊〉 would accept of part of the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…nd so was 〈◊〉 car●… divided betwee●… them both▪ in such 〈◊〉, a●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and had the care of the spiritual matters, and Felix of th●…●…porall affairs. In which offices they both d●…meaning themselves with great concord, and much edification▪ there happened a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of the Moor●…s: whereupon▪ the holy Family was ●…onstrayned with their Pastors to forsake that coun●…y, & to ●…eeke ●…m a securer mansion in p●…rts more 〈◊〉.  
Now then, after a long voyage, and sundry adventures had▪ ●…eing arrived at last, at the fruitful territory of Sic●…a, they were in●…ed, as well through the quality of the soil, a●… the g●…ntlenes of ●…he inhabitants to remain there, as they did, attending each one 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 office, and especially 〈◊〉, to 〈◊〉 the Heretics vn●…o the true faith, and ●…o help ●…ose soul●… both with words 〈◊〉 examples in all virtues. There preached at that time in the vill●… of Babardilla, an Arrian priest, very rich in substance, in be 〈◊〉 barbarous, and a most cruel persecutor of the Catholics. Th●… man, understanding of the life, and goodly works of S. Fulgen●…, and suspecting he was come, under the false habit of a Monk ●…o alienate men from Arianisme, laying some wait and ambu●… 〈◊〉 diverse places, caused him, and his Colleague Felix, to be taken 〈◊〉 brought before him, and with fierce eyes, and a wry countena●… said to them: Wherefore are you come hither from your house 〈◊〉 pervert the Christians? And without otherwise attending an answer, commanded them to be cruelly beaten.  
When the good Felix, being moved with compassion, fo●… 〈◊〉 Fulgentius: Be not (said he) so cruel against this my Brother, 〈◊〉 companion here, being so tender of complexion, as he is like 〈◊〉 dye in your hands; but do you wreak yourselves rather on 〈◊〉 lone, for all the fault is in me only. With which words, the Minister of the Devil being astonished, made Fulgentius awhile to sta●… aside, and more severely apppointed Felix to be sm●…ten then befo●… who amidst the blows of the hangmen, tempered his sorrow s●… what with the joy he had to behold Fulgentius exempted. But 〈◊〉 contentment of his, lasted not long: forasmuch as that wicked 〈◊〉 rian, being pushed thereunto of his native fierceness, after he had 〈◊〉 ill entreated the one, began to handle the other worse; nor suffi●… the example of so rare a charity, nor the noble and venerable 〈◊〉 of S. Fulgentius, to move his obdurate hart to compassion.  
But S. Fulgentius rather amidst the smart of the blows, (〈◊〉 to him was as it were intolerable,) having with humble voy●… demanded so much favour, as to speak some three or four wor●… he gave him truce and respite the while, as thinking him inclined 〈◊〉 confess the Arrian opinions, and to renounce the ancient religio●… but noting him to enter into a formal discourse, about giving 〈◊〉 count of their life and pilgrimage had; being fraught with rage▪ 〈◊〉 caused him to be more, cruelly entreated then ever; & lastly 〈◊〉 & stripping them both, bade them be gone: and they rejoicing within themselves, for having suffered for Christ, so despoiled of th●… raiments, but invested with glory, returned home to their Cells 〈◊〉 gain.  
The ●…ame, and rumour of this accident. S. Fulgentius himse●… being a person age so illustrious as he was, dilated itself to the General discontent of all, even to the City of Carthage. So far forth as the Bishop of the Arrians himself, resented it much, & was ready to make demonstration thereof, if the offended had made but any complaint thereof, at all. Whereunto many exhorting S. Fulgentius, he suffered not himself to be induced; neither withal their persuasions nor yet with the grievousness of the injury received to seek revenge, saying, that besides that such things are to be remitted to God, it would be also a scandal to see a religious Catholic man, to recurre to the tribunal of an Arrian. Howbeit, to mitigate the fury & persecution of that perverse sect, he determined to go into some place where it ruled not. Wherefore withal his Monks, he passed to his former dwelling, as choosing rather, to have the Moors his Neighbours, than the Heretics.   

S. Fulgentius leaves Carthage, and goes to Alexandria, where he met with Eulalius Bishop: and returns back again by Rome. Chap. 4.  
NOt far from the City of Loda, began S. Fulgentius and Felix to found them a new Monestery: Where while they attended to their accustomed offices of piety, S. Fulgentius lighted on a book of the lives and spiritual Conferences o●… the Monks, and Hermits of Egypt. Through this reading and meditation, he became so inflamed to the greater study of all perfect virtue, as without more ado he resolved to go his ways secretly into those parts, as well to lay off the name, and charge of Abbot; as also to ty●… himself to a more rigorous and straight Rule. Which mutation of place, was in those days tolerated, in certain Religious, as than not having made any express vow of any particular congregation.  
So as S. Fulgentius, under the pretext of dispatch of some affairs in Carthage, being arrived to the walls of that City, with only one companion, by name Redemptus, instead of entering into the Town took shipping for Alexandria, without other viatique with him, than a firm confidence in God, through whose disposition being carried by the winds to Siracusa of Sicily, he there met with the holy Bishop Eulalius, a person of great sanctity, and much affected to Religious persons, as having moreover a proper Monastery of his own where he would recollect himself sometimes from his other Ecclesiastical occupations. S. Fulgentius with other Pilgrims being courteously received by this good Prelate, while at table they discoursed of spirit and learning, it could not be, but the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dent Bishop, must needs be aw●…re of 〈◊〉 doctrine and 〈◊〉 After dinner then calling him aside, he said to him: Th●…u 〈◊〉 mention at table of certain Institutes, and Collations of the Fathers, I pray thee now, bring me the Book if thou hast it: which S. Fulgentius did without delay, and withal at the earnest instan●… of the Bishop, declared the whole argument thereof, in a few and very apt words.  
The Bishop admiting the young man's wit and erudition, and solacing himself, with having such a Guest in his house, began familiarly to request of him an account of his travail. And S. Fulgentius, to cover with humility his design, said he went to seek his 〈◊〉, whom he understood to live in the parts o●… Egypt; & he 〈◊〉 but truth in saying so, since he held all them for his parents, that might further him in spirit. The Bishop perceived the answer was ambiguous, & easily gathered by discourse from the other companion, who was a man of much simplicity, what passed in effect: When the blessed Fulgentius, now finding hims●… besides expectation to be be discovered, confessed of himself, how the matter stood with him; to wit, that he had left his home, with the mind to enter into the inmost solitude of Thebais, to be able there, being altoge●…ther unknown, and dead to the world, to lead his life more perfectly, with having every day new examples of virtue and pe●…nance from so great a number of the s●…ruants of God. Thou 〈◊〉 well answer●… ●…ulalius, to desire continually a greater perfection but know on the other side, it is impossible for any to pl●… God▪ without the ●…iue ●…ayth. The land whereto thou ●…endest, is separated now long since from the Sea Apostolic. All those Monks, who●… rigour and abstinence is grown ●…o renowned, will be ware of comunicating with thee. And then what shall it avail thee, with fastings to afflict the flesh, while the soul shall want its nourishment? Wherefore return my Son▪ whence thou camest, lest whi●… thou desirest a more holy conversation, thou sufferest shipwrack●… of a sound Religion. I likewise, for my part in my youth, before unworthy as I am I was assumpted to this degree, have had the se●… same thought, which now thou hast, but the respect which I no●… told thee of, did quit me of it.  
The blessed Fulgentius, yielded to the counsels of the holy Bishop: yet nevertheless, for the more perspicuity in that point, ●…dged it expedient, to seek also thereupon the judgement of the Bishop R●…nianus; who being fled out of Africa for the persecution of the Vandals, as hath been said, hid himself under amonasticall life, in a certain little I land near unto Sicily. From whom having likewise received the same answer without seeking any further, he determined by all means to return back again; yet so as he failed not by the way, to repair, of mere devotion, to the City of Rome. Where after he had liumbly visited those holy places; it chanced beside, beyond expectation, that he was present there, at a spectacle of the greatest pomp & magnificence of that Court; there arriving at the same tyme. Theodoricke King of the Gathes, where in a place called the Golden Palm, ●…e made a speech to the whole Nobility, distinguished according to the degrees, and the honour of each one: and where like wise were heard the acclamations and applauses▪ which the people universally gave.  
Through which sight notwithstanding S. Fulgentius being nothing caught with those transitory things, but lifting rather up the mind and affect to the celestial glory, said to his Friends: How ●…e 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 you, must the heavenly Jerusalem needs be, since Rome so glitters here beneath? And if here in this world, so great a pomp and splendour be afforded to the friends of vanity; what glory ●…ow you, and triumph, is due in the other to such as contemplate the truth? And after he had spoken many things to this purpose, with the profit and consolation of the hearers; taking his journey again, with diligence, he passed into Sardinia, and from thence into Africa▪ where he was received with extreme joy, not only of the Monks, but even of thelay men also, & strangers there; among which, a wealthy gentleman, noting with how much petill and incommodity, the servants of God there inhabited in those confines; being moved of piety, offered them a good and secure sci●…uation in the Province of Bizacco. Which proffer Fulgentius accepting, with great thanks, here founded a new house, with a notable increase of Monks, and extraordinary help of souls in those countries.   

S. Fulgentius to shun the title of Abbot, hides himself in vain: & 〈◊〉 afterwards a Bishopric, is made Bishop of Ruspa. Chap. 5.  
NOtwithstanding the great pleasure and contentment, which S. Fulgentius took on the one side, for the great fruit of soul●… which was made, yet on the other he felt exceeding sorrow, in p●…ceiuing himself by such occupations much hindered from his union with God, and sweet contemplation of invisible things. Besides the which, the title of Abbot and charge of commanding others, was of small contentment to him, while he called to mind that Christ our Lord himself, had said, that he came to serve, and not to be served, and to perform not his proper will, but that of the eternal Father. With such kind of thoughts as these, being newly pushed on to abase, and hide himself by all means; after a long consideration, atlast he took the resolution, which we will show you now.  
There washes the banks of Vinci, and Bennese, an arm of the Sea, full of shelves and rocks. In the one of which, being so dry 〈◊〉 day by day, they were fain to procure fresh water to be brought them with little boats, was found to be a Convent of Monks, who under the care of two Reverend Prelates there, persevered in extreme penance, and poverty. To this Monastery now the blessed Fulgentius being retired, he began to relish again the desired fruits of a private life, and of holy humility, mortifying through obedience all proper will, in taming continually the flesh with fastings, prayers, and vigils, and diving at pleasure in to the profound mysteries of the Eternity: and yet interupting withal, at times, his mental exercises, in copying forth, with his own hand, ●…ome good book or other, which he could do very excellently well; or else in weaving, for sundry uses, the leaves of Palms, wherein likewise he had been very dexterous heretofore; so as it seemed to him h●… was now in that state he wished for so much: but yet was it not afforded him, to remain therein, as long as he would.  
Because that Felix his Colleague, and the other his Monks, having notice thereof, first of all, used all the means possible they could themselves, to have him again: but while their prayers and persuasions, were not of force thereunto, they finally interposed the authority of the Venerable Faustus the Bishop, by whom S. Fulgentius was constrained at last, to return back again; and 〈◊〉 the end, he might be engaged to remain there with a new obli●…ation, he was forthwith ordained both Priest and Abbot: with ●…hich chains being now tied, he began to set his hart at rest, and 〈◊〉 attend with all study and care, to that which God had commen●…ed unto him: whereupon in short time was spread so good an o●…our, as the Abbot: Fulgentius, in all that territory was held to be 〈◊〉 common Father and Pastor of all, with a universal desire to ●…hoose him, and no other for Bishop, when time should serve: of ●…hich conceit S. Fulgentius was aware, but in regard that as then, ●…y Edicts of King Trasamond, the ordinations of Bishops were pro●…ibited, he was acquit of all doubt thereof, esteeming it in vain to ●…y the dignities, which could neither be given, or taken.  
But after that, the holy College of Bishops yet remaining, ●…rough zeal of the divine glory, and the common good, with public Decree had freely defined, that notwithstanding the King's ●…rohibition, ordination of Bishops should be made in every Dio●…esse, and heerupon that holy decree was begun to be executed ●…n all sides: & the people, the while striving to appear no less ●…ious and diligent than others, here it was, that the blessed Ful●…entius, went about to prevent their designs, and to hide him●…elfe in such wise, as there was no possible means to find him out. ●…o as the inhabitants were fain to resolve to expect till such time, ●…s he might appear in sight; but fearing in the mean while, some ●…ew inhibition should proceed from Court, they were enforced against their wills to make one of their Clerks, a Bishop: and so in 〈◊〉 very short space, were almost all the Churches furnished with Pastors, and that with so great dislike of the King, as he took order to banish the Bishops, and caused the Archbishop S. Victor himself to be cast into prison at Carthage, to the great lamentation, and disturbance of the Catholic part.  
The which as soon as S. Fulgentius understood, as thinking himself to be now out of all danger of any such honour, he stayed not 〈◊〉 whit from returning again to the custody of his little flock. But it pleased the divine providence, that the humble Servant of God should be deceived of this purpose. Forasmuch indeed, as among ●…hose people which as yet now were destitute of a Bishop, was ●…hat of Ruspa, a famous City and very full of rich and noble inhabitants. Which delay of theirs, had sprung from the ambition of a certain Deacon there, one Felix by name, who the more 〈◊〉 he pretended to the Chair, was the more mainly resi●… by good men: and though himself, through favour of his kindred and friends, had a faction sufficient to hinder others from the dignity, yet not enough it seemed to procure it to himself.  
Among those discords, and civil broils, it was suddenly understood, that S. Fulgentius, who could never be discovered before, at the time of the creation past, did now appear at last. In the mean while, the Archbishop, happening to pass by Ruspa, in his conduction to Carthage, the Gentleman of the City, with some Catholic Bishops there, had access unto him, and easily obtained full licence, to create S. Fulgentius the Pastor of Ruspa. Heereupo●… many Citizens with great haste presented themselves to the Serua●… of God, who remained in his Cell infirm of his eyes, & so ●…king him up as it were, on their shoulders, with main force they 〈◊〉 him into their country, and then consecrating him with d●…e 〈◊〉, placed him in the Pontifical seat. But in conducting hi●… thither, there happened a notable thing which follows.   

A Deacon lays an ambush to assail S. Fulgentius, but miss of his purpose▪ He is confined afterwards with other Prelates into the land of Sardini●… Chap. 6.  
THE foresaid Deacon, having taken up the way with a strong guard, to hinder the passage of S. Fulgentius, his company 〈◊〉 while through the secret instinct of heaven, took another way●… so was the adversary illuded, and the new Bishop, with commo●… iubiley, & with solemn preparation, having publicly said Ma●… communicated the faithful with his own hands; and then after 〈◊〉 vanquish evil, according to Christian perfection, endeavoured 〈◊〉 honour his enemy Felix, in making him Priest: the which dignity in those days, was esteemed according to the merit and greatness of the degree. But howbeit S. Fulgentius, so benignly remitted the offence; yet so passed not the malice without due punishment: since Felix died within a year, and the public procurator of Ruspa, who had been his principal Fautour, being so pot●…nt as he was, came suddenly to lose his riches, and to fall into great straits, and necessities. Whence the others, were brought to dread the diui●… judgements, and for ever after to have the blessed Fulgentius in gr●…ater veneration.  
Whose vocation, as it ●…ad been wholly sincere and celestial, ●…t afforded a large 〈◊〉 ●…o the holy man, to manifest himself to 〈◊〉 alike invincible in prosperity, and adversity: which he was to ●…efull, while in such a mutation of estate, with so moderate a de●…rum of his personage, he always retained, not only the same ●…eekenes and affability, but even likewise the monastical habit, & ●…othing as before: nor so much as in his diet he made any alterati●…n at all, save only for age he was constrained to use the seasoning ●…oyle, and when he fell ●…ick, to mingle his water with a little ●…ine, so as qualifying only the rawness thereof, he felt no whit of ●…e sent, or savour of that precious liquor. In the night, rising al●…ayes before others, he endeavoured to restore unto study and ●…ayer, those hours, which the occupations of the day, for the ●…ublique necessity; had wrested from him. He was never seen to ●…habit in any place, without the company of his Monks. But ra●…er the first favour, which he demanded of the Citizens of Ruspa, ●…as, the commodity of building there, a convenient Monastery for 〈◊〉 rule. In which many striving to have the merit thereof, it plea●…d him to ●…ke use of the charity of one Posthumianus, a most principal Gentleman of virtue, and of blood, from whom having a ●…yre situation afforded him some what near to the Church, with 〈◊〉 pleasant grove of Pines, which served likewise very fit for the 〈◊〉, he conveyed the Abbot Felix thither with almost all his congregation, leaving only some few Monks in the other, under the ●…are of one Vitalis; yet in such sort he did it, as both the Conuents ●…id live with the same discipline, and communicated together, not ●…s guests and strangers, but as Brothers and members of the same ●…ody. And the blessed S. Fulgentius, howbeyt most seriously busyed ●…n his Diocese, ●…ayled not the while to have still a paternal care & ●…ouidence of the one and other.  
In the mean while the King of the Vandals, having already ●…onfined the Catholic Bishops to Sar●…ia, ordained likewise ●…hat S. Fulgentius should be carried thither. Which succeeded to the great comfort of those inn●…ent Prelates, since they reaped not only 〈◊〉 notable help from the learning, and conversation of the holy man, 〈◊〉 likewise in the public acts of that sacred College, and in the ●…rticular occurences of their Churches, they did greatly avail themselues, of the succour and charity of S. Fulgentius, as being very eloquent in tongue and pen: so as all the letters they had to send, for matters of importance, were dictated by him, and if any were 〈◊〉 be reprehended, or admonished, or else to be reconciled unto 〈◊〉 Church, the charge thereof, was most commonly recommended 〈◊〉 him.  
And for as much, as according to custom, S. Fulgentius had d●…parted from Africa exceeding poor, and without provision, and accompanied only with a few Monks, he persuaded two of the number of those Bishops, to wit, Illustris and Felix, with their 〈◊〉 mestiques to lead with him, in the City of Calari, a religious and common life: so as they being assembled together, and swee●… linked with the band of charity, both the Clerks and the Mon●… had the same table, and the self same prayers, lessons, and spiritual exhortations. Whereby not only, those of the Convent, but 〈◊〉 also, the others of the City were greatly assisted. There was 〈◊〉 person distressed and afflicted, who in that holy place, found not ●…fuge, none desirous of the word of God, who there might not freely hear the same; to the doubts of Scripture, and Cases of conscien●… continually answer and resolution was given; Peace and conc●… put between playntifes, and enemies; Alms dealt to the needy 〈◊〉 necessitous. And particularly beside, S. Fulgentius would be ever ●…ding them, not only by absolving them of their sins, but also 〈◊〉 lowing the Counsels of Christ, in not regarding therein, the 〈◊〉 or much substance they had to leave, but the affect they showed 〈◊〉 voluntary and full renunciation.   

King Trasamond seeks to entrap S. Fulgentius with curious questi●… and the Arrian Ministers do exasperate him against him. Chap. 7.  
AT the same time, King Trasamond had found out another more subtle way to subvert the faithful in Africa, in pretending openly that he sought nothing else, but truth in all things, and sometimes proposing sundry demands and questions to simple Catholics: and howbeit, now and then nevertheless, there w●…ted not men sufficient enough, to convince their heresies; yet would the King seem to make but light account of them, still vaunting himself to have had the upper hand in the disputes, and con●…uersies of faith. Wherein, while he laboured now with this man, now with that, he was put in mind of the blessed Fulgentius, as of a person of rare learning, and very able to solve all the knots and difficultyes occurring in such matters. So as sending a Messenger with diligence for him, he was conducted to Carthage: where in a poor lodging, the first thing he attended to (and not without fruit) was to confirm the Catholics, and to inform the Heretics of their blindness, in proving with lively and pregnant reasons, that one only substance in persons distinct, was truly to be adored in the most holy Trinity. There being afterwards a writing presented unto him, on the behalf of the King, full of ●…allacyes, & cunning quirks and demands; he, inserting there withal the words of the scripture itself, answered from point to point, with so much acumen, perspicuity, and brevity, as the King himself, though obstinate in his perfidiousness, remained astonished at the doctrine: and the people of Carthage, diwlging the said answer, continued more and more, well affected to the Catholic faith.  
After this, the King not contented with the former demands, proposed yet some others a new, but without giving leave, or scope to S. Fulgentius, to answer with commodity, that he might not quote his words, as formerly he did, and give the world to understand the impertinency of them; but constrained him rather, having read the paper, to help himself, what he might, with his memory, and to answer out of hand without more ado. The which condition, seeming, as in truth it was, full of injustice, the holy man for a while, differred to make his reply: but the King imperiously pressing him to it, and attributing the caution to diffidence, lest the Arrian Ministers might likewise seem to do the same, & diwlge with their accustomed vanity, they had stopped his mouth; Fulgentius disposeth himself to answer unto it the best he could, reducing to his mind, what was but once permitted him to read, & in three little admirable Treatises of the Incarnation of our Lord (for the question of the King, was of that subject) he apparently showed, how the same Son of God, equal in all and throughout, to the eternal Father, in clothing himself with our mortality, took truly and really a reasonable soul.  
With which wisdom and subtlety of his, King Trasamond being much astonished, durst question him no more; howbeyt a false Bishop of his, called Pin●…, rather through intemperance of tongue, than sufficiency of learning, would needs be replying, I know ●…ot what thereunto, giving here with occasion to S. Fulgentius, to frame another work thereupon, to convince anew the temerity▪ & ignorance of the enemies of Christ. There was likewise moved 〈◊〉 to him, a certain controversy, about the holy Ghost, by a Priest called Abrazilla, which further gave a fit occasion to S. Fulgentius, to let it appear, with many and clear demonstrations, how the Holy Ghost, with the Father, & the Son, ought simply to be confessed one God. Which things, by how much they brought more honour and esteem to the servant of God, so much the more, the Ministers of the Devil, conspired in one, to advise the King, not to let the matter proceed any further, protesting withal the harbouring of such an adversary in Carthage, would be the ruin of the Arrian religion, and that if he remedied not the fame in time, he would come shortly to have so many Followers, as that with all the forces of the kingdom, they could hardly be resisted.  
The King being terrified with these, and such like suggestions, though in a manner against his will, commanded, without more delay, that S. Fulgentius should return to his former confines, and for avoiding of all popular tumult, he should be embarked in the night. Whereto he obediently yielded for his part; but the divine Goodness, being not willing, with such a departure, the faithful should seem to be deprived of the sight & comfort of such a Father▪ detained the ship so long, with contrary winds, in the Haven, as well nigh all the City had space to salute him, and to receive the most holy Sacrament at his hands: When behold a fair gale of wind now coming about, and a certain religious man, one Ginliatus by name, among others bewailing his departure, the holy Bishop being moved to compassion upon him, and full of a prophetical spirit, said clearly to him: Trouble not yourself my Son, for soon shall this whole persecution cease, and we shall return to you again: but I pray thee, keep this secret, for I could not choose but discover it to thee, being moved so with tenderness, and Charity towards thee. And this S. Fulgentius added, for the great care he had to conceal his gifts, and to eschew all human glory, contenting himself the while with the testimony of a good conscience, and with the inward grace afforded him; so as likely he did not, nor ever would work Miracles: and if now, & then perhaps he did any, he would still rather attribute the same, to the faith of another, than his own virtue.  
But for the most part, whensoever he was sought unto, to pray to our Lord for the sick, and afflicted; he would frame his prayers, with these words, or the like: Thou knowest, O Lord, what is fit for the health of our souls, while thou succourest our corporal necessities, in such sort, as they hinder not the spiritual profit. He was wont to say, that the Gift of miracles served not to make a man more just, but to cause him rather to be renowned in the world: A thing truly, which avails, but little to eternal beatitude, where virtuous and hood men, howbeit obscure and unknown, are not hindered awhit from getting into Heaven. Though if we speak of supernatural effects, those works, which others perform in curing of bodies, seem unto me not to be so admirable, as those, which he wrought, in curing of Souls, in converting with his fair exhortations, and good example, so many Heretics to the Church, and so man sinners unto penance.   

S. Fulgentius builds him a new Convent in Calari. The persecution ceaseth. Prelates are recalled from banishment. Chap. 8.  
With these, and other the like exercises, which accompanied S. Fulgentius still in each time and place, being now brought back to the Island of Sardinia; he was again no small consolation, to the afflicted Bishops. And having led with him from Africa, a good number of Monks, with the leave of Brumas●…us Bishop of Calari, he built him there a new Convent without the City near to the Church of S. Saturninus, attending with all care and solicitude to conseve religious discipline most pure; having principally an eye, that none of the Monks (who were about some 50. in number) should seem to have any thing proper. And for to take away all occasion thereof, he would himself distribute with great discretion, the necessary things appertaining to them, according to the forces and infirmity of each one. True it is, that such, as enjoyed any particular thing at his hands, he would require to be notable in humility: protesting unto them, that in Congregations, whosoever receives of the public substance, more than others, becomes a debtor to each one of them, to whom the goods do belong; and how he cannot satisfy the debt, as justice requires, without showing himself very obedient, lowly, meek, and tractable to all. By these ways, the Saint would seem to remedy the scandals from such inequalityes.  
And as he was exceeding solicitous in preventing the suits, requests, & importunities of the Monks, in giving them before hand what reason or necessity required: so towards the importunate, & not resigned, he would show himself to be very severe, in denying them sometimes, even that which they had otherwise deserved; affirming, that they should otherwise incur the displeasure of the Highest, if they should desire things superfluous; and that it plainly denoted a weak spirit, and of little virtue. Forasmuch as such as they, through a former renunciation now seeing themselu●… to be shut of all manner of traffic, and gain of the world, with such kind of demands, do seem to supply the use of trading. He added moreover, that such only are worthy of the name of religious, who mortifying quite their proper wills, are ready to will, and not to will that only, which is insinuated to them by the Superior. Nor made he any reckoning of those handy works, not well conjoined with interior acts: as wishing, that the spirit of devotion▪ should be the season of each operation. Besides, he would show himself to be sweet and affable to all, without any arrogancy or imperiousness a whit (though in his time, he knew also to use due gravity;) and the subject how simple and ignorant he were, had full freedom to make any request unto him, and that as often as he would; & the good Father would likewise hear him with all patience, or without showing himself weary, with reasons & examples, until such time as the party himself had freely confessed, he was throughly satisfied and contented.  
In this time of banishment, he wrote to those of Carthage, an Epistle of high Counsels, and Advertisements, discovering among other things, with great clearness, the deceits, & flatteryes wherewith miserable souls are conducted to Hell. And at the instance of one Monimus, a religious person, he composed two books, Of theremission of sins, and instructed him beside, in the matter of Predesti●…tion, and of the differences of Grace. Moreover, he sent often lette●… of edification into diverse places of Sardinia, and Africa, & likewise to Rome, especially to the principal Senators there, unto Ladies, & Widows of good name. To Proba, the Virgin of Christ, he wrote two little books of Fasting, and Prayer. Furthermore with seaves books, he partly interpreted the doctrine of Faustus, a French Bishop in the best sense, and partly also openly con●…uted some opinions of the same man, inclining to the Arrian sect. Which work of his, well appears, how grateful it was unto God, since scarcely had he ●…nished the same, but the whole persecution ceased, by the death King Trasamond, and the succession of Hilderick, a person of marvellous goodness, by whom the Catholic Religion was suddenly ●…tored, and the Bishops recalled from banishment, according to ●…e prophecy of the blessed S. Fulgentius.  
That glorious troop then of Confessors returned back again 〈◊〉 Africa to the great consolation of the people there, being desolate ●…d disconsolate so long, and was met with, and received, even at ●…e very sea side, by an infinite multitude of people, most especially for the love of S. Fulgentius; at whose appearing in fight, were ●…finite cries and shouts lifted up to heaven, while every one made ●…ast to behold and salute him, and to receive his benediction, and ●…uen to touch at least, but the hemne of his garments. And so great was the concourse and press of people, in conducting him with the ●…thers, to the Church of S. Agileus, that some Devotees of his were ●…ayne to make a ring, or circle about him, for to pass without peril.   

S. Fulgentius at his arrival puts himself into a Monastery again: and after reconciles himself to Bishop Quod-vult-deus. And so makes ablessed End. Chap. 19  
THere happened likewise another notable thing in the same procession, which was, that the heavens being darkened on a sudden, and a great shower of rain pouring down, there was yet not a Man to be seen, that left the company, to retire himself to some shelter: but many rather, as in imitation of Christ our Lord in Jerusalem, in taking off their proper ●…oakes, made very readily a Penthouse thereof, for to shelter the Blessed E●…lgentius. Who were able to explicate the welcomes, with the honours, and festiui●…yes, which were made him, fir●… in the City of Carthage, and after in all the countries, and lands where he happened to pass through in returning to his Diocese? With all which things notwithstanding, that noble Follower of Christ, was not only not proud awhit, but even as soon as he arrived at his Church, put himself a new into his Monastery, very freely deposing all superiority of the Convent; in so much as the public government of the Church, depending wholly on him, yet in the domestical and daily discipline, he would humbly depend on the Abbot Felix.  
In the rule of the Clergy moreover, he had a singular care, to prohibit all wanton and costly apparel, and to provide, that for secular busynesses, none should be absent from home, or exempt 〈◊〉 the Choir; for which cause he would have all to inhabit close 〈◊〉 the Church, and for the time they had to spare, they should spend partly in cultivating some little garden, with their hands, partly 〈◊〉 exercising themselves in singing of psalms, and pronouncing the words very well. He ordained beside, that all the Clerks, and all the widows, and likewise all the other Laymen, who had no 〈◊〉 impediment, should fast on the Wednesdays & fridays throughout the year, and that all should be present every day at the divine Offices. He would chastise the unquiet, as need required, now with private and public reprehensions, now with pennanc●…, & scourges, to the end, that with the penalty of one, all the other might take example. Through which proceeding, and perpet●…all innocency of his manners, he was now in such veneration, as not only his subjects, but even very strangers also that were well disposed, would remit their contentions and strifes, though never so spleenful and inveterated, to the arbitrement and decision of the Saint: and among others, the people of Massimiana who by no means would accept the Bishop that was ordained them, were finally with the authority and admonishments of S. Fulgentius, well pacified with him, putting an end to that so contumacious, and se●…dalous a contention between them.  
Notwithstanding all this, the Saint wanted not his contradictours, and emulous, as is wont to happen; whom he strived to overcome which patience, and submission. Among others, a certain Bishop by name Quod-vule-deus seemed to take it very grievously, to have S. Fulgentius preferred before him, in the Council 〈◊〉 Vinci. Whereof the Servant of God being aware, expected the occasion of the Suffetan Council: And at the commencing thereof, sought and obtained with an excellent example, there to have the lower place of the aforesaid Bishop; endeavouring with such an act of humility to reconcile unto him, and to gain that soul, though without any fault of his so disgusted and alienated from him. Now here what will they say, who are every foot striving for precedence? Let them learn here of the blessed Fulgentius, to execute the precepts of Christ, and to seek always the lowest place.  
In Sermons moreover (whereof he made, and wrote many) he was wont to have regard not to the applause a whit, but rather to the motion and compunction of the people. Wheerin he had so great a grace, as that (among other ●…ymes) preaching once two ●…yes together one after the other, at the dedication of the Church Burni, even Boniface himself Bishop of Carthage being there present, ●…uld by no means hold from weeping outright, in giving God ●…anks, for that of his infinite mercy, there were always found very ●…cellent Doctors in the Catholic Church. After his return frō●…nishment, besides the Sermons and Books already written, he ●…rote a new ten others, against the lies and falshods of Fabianus; & ●…ree of Predestination, and Grace. Amidst such manner of exercises as ●…ese, S. Fulgentius approaching to the end of his life, as presaging what was shortly to follow, with a few Brothers for a year before ●…tyred himself a fresh, to do penance, and bewail himself, in ●…ittle rock of the Island of Cercinna, until such time, as through th●…●…ayers and lamentations of such, as he had left behind him, he was ●…nstreyned to return to his Diocese again, and to resume the ●…ouerment.  
But long it was not, ere he fell into a grievous infirmity, which for 70. days afflicted him sorely, with most bitter pains; wherein looking up to heaven, he was wont to utter no other words, than these: Lord, do thou give me now patience, and afterwards in●…ulgence. Finally feeling the hour of his passage to approach, and ●…alling all the Clerks and Monks unto him, he humbly besought ●…ardon of them, if perhaps he had disgusted any, praying withal ●…ur Lord God, to provide them a good Pastor. After this he dispo●…ed of the monies, which as yet were left him, as a most faithful Steward, as he had always been of the Ecclesiastical rents: and ●…ecounting by name, all the widows, Orphans, Pilgrims, & other ●…f the poor, as well of the Lay, as Clerks, one by one, he orday●…ed what he had to be given by paul, without leaving so much a●… 〈◊〉 farthing unbequeathed.  
Hereupon, turning himself to prayer, and tenderly blessing ●…s many as entered unto him, he remained in his senses and iudg●…ent unto the last breath, which he rendered up to our Lord, towards the Evening, in the year of our Lord 461. on the first day of january, in the 65. year of his age, which was the 25. of his Bishopric. In the mean space, while the province of Bizac●…na, was ●…acked, and harrowed with fires and assaults of Moors, the country ●…nd City of Ruspa (through the merits doubtless of the holy Pastor) ●…ad always enjoyed a secure and quiet peace. His body was watched all the night, with psalms, and spiritual Canticles. Th●…n 〈◊〉 morning being come, with an infinite concourse of people, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 carried, and laid by the hands of Priests, in the Church which 〈◊〉 called Secunda: where himself had devoutly placed the ve●… Relics of the Apostles; and where for the reverence of the pla●… till that time, no man had been buried.   
FINIS.   

S. THEODOSIUS.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

Dear Saint: The ancient Ages did esteem  
Thy Countrymen 
* The Cappadocians were esteemed Pigmies, as the Chaldean 〈◊〉 Ezech. 27. interpre teth the Hebrew word.  as Pigmies; so they seem  
Compared to others: yet thy Towering mind  
Did overlook the world, which thou didst find  
A painted Harlot, whose discoloured face  
Did ma●…ke in feigned beauty, borrowed grace.   

Her thou discovering with a piercing eye,  
Such base endearments quickly didst descry,  
And taughtst to others: thousands didst thou free  
When her impostures blazoned were by thee.  
Both friend and foe one action doth aver,  
Thee to the world no friend, no foe to her.   

Might time, but like the billows of the maine  
Reduce itself into its spring again;  
O●… Eaglelike could once itself renew,  
That we its ancient offspring might review;   

We should confess, past Ages hardly saw  
One from the world, the world more to withdraw.    

THE LIFE OF S. THEODOSIUS ABBOT.  

The Parents, Country; and Education of S. Theodosi●…: His Vocation, and how he met with Stelites. With his a●… 〈◊〉 afterwards at Jerusalem. Chap. I.  
THE great Father and Master of Monks S. ●…dosius, was one of the number of those, who not receiving from their Native Country, either splendour or renown, have yet through 〈◊〉 proper actions, and eminent virtues, ennobled the same. The blessed Mamn, was borne in M●…assus of Cappadocia, a place obscure, and unknown before, but after by so happy a pla●…t, deservedly famous and illustrious. His Parents were 〈◊〉 & ●…gia, both Christians, & according to the quality of the land there, very honourable, & wealthy. By these, the Child being nurtured with great care, both in the fear of God, and in some knowledge of good literature; as soon as he arrived to years of discretion, (as he was among other his gifts, of a prompt and ready wit, and of a clear voice, and distinct pro●…ciation) he was 〈◊〉 to recite the ●…ine scriptures to the people assembled in the Temple, on determinate days. In which exercise, while many examples, & precepts of sanc●…y, were presented 〈◊〉 him; and while he notes in the old Testa●…nt, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 obedien●… of Abraham, in going forth of his Country; and ●…ing h●… only begotten son; and in the sacred Gospel considers the rewards proposed to such as leave their Parenets, or goods for the love of God; ●…his doctrine anon ●…unck very deep into the hart of the pr●…dent youth: so as now generously contemning the delights of that age, & rejecting with a stern brow, the 〈◊〉 flatteryes of the Sens●…, he determined to walk by the narrow, and unbeaten way, unto the glorious confines of the true Beatitude.  
To which effect, knowing what need there was of the celestial grace, to obtain it more easily, and in greater abundance; the first thing he did, was, that recommending himself to God, he applied his thoughts, unto the pilgrimage 〈◊〉 Palestine, to see & ador●… the Land, so died with the blood, and printed with the steps of our Saviour; and through the lively memory of his cruel torments, to gather from thence abundant fruit of spirit, and perseverance. Such in sum, was the Vocation of S. Thedosius, while the Council of Chalcedon was then assembling. And forasmuch, as at that time, the same of Simeon Stelites the Greater, was very illustrious, who ●…eare unto Antioch; standing day and night on the top of a pilla●…, wholly exposed to the injury of the elements, to the great admiration of the world, performed very sha●…pe penance; it seemed good to the devout Pilgrim to go that way, to take thereby the benediction and spiritual precepts of so worthy, and admirable a personage. T●…yling th●… towards the same: Country, he no sooner approached to that strange habitation, but that before he opened his mouth, he heard himself with a loud voice to be called upon, and saluted by the holy old man, by his proper name; who having ●…otice from Heaven of the quality and intention of this new. Tra●…aylour, th●… began to cry out a●… the first sight of him: Thou art welcome, Thou man of God, O Theodosius. At which very sound, the fresh Disciple of the eternal Wisdom, being stooke with 〈◊〉, as it were, and prostrating himself on the ground, most humbly saluted him again, and then recollecting himself from the fear he was in, and with a set ladder getting up the Pillar; he was not only most dearly embraced by Simeon but also fully certified of all his foture events and adventures, of the numerous ra●…nall stock, which in process of time, he was to assemble together, and to seed, and of the great multitude of souls, which he through 〈◊〉 help, was in time to take forth of the jaws of the internal 〈◊〉; & as much also in sum, as in the whole course of his present 〈◊〉, through divine disposition, were like to betide him.  
To this prophecy were adjoined counsels, and exhortation●… full of wisdom and truth; where with S. Theodosius being much comforted, very cheerfully proceeded in his way, and safely 〈◊〉 at Jerusalem, while the Blessed Inuenall did govern that Me●… here having visited with great consolation those most holy place, he began to think with himself, what manner of life, he might choose to discharge himself of all terrene affects, and to be united more easily with the eternal goodness. A consultation by how much more necessary, so much the more dubious and perplexed it was unto him, as appears in the Chapter following.   

The conflict S. Theodosius had in himself about his vocation; with his resolution thereupon. And how searing Prelacy, he flies into a Cave. Chap. 2.  
THeodosius hereupon, on the one side, felt himself to be 〈◊〉 with a vehement desire unto solitude; while to him it 〈◊〉 that therein, without all impediment, he might give himself wholly to Prayer; and on the other he was not ignorant, how dangero●… it was, with a mind not fully purged, to deprive one's self of all human direction, and succour: since that in the desert, the di●…nate passions, like fire raked up in the ashes, or as wild beasts in the woods, do lurk, & await occasion, to wreak their native cruelty: Whereas amidst human Society, they being discovered through daily encounters, and thrust out of their dens, are more ea●…ly destroyed; insomuch, as the Soul victorious of itself, and dissolved from the bands of corrupt nature, mounts up very lightly 〈◊〉 high thoughts, and to the free contemplation of celestial things. The●… and other such like reasons, on the one and other side, this new Philosopher puts into the balance, and having poised them ma●…rely, in the divine sight, at last takes himself to the securer side, with resolution to become, not a Doctor before a Scholar, & 〈◊〉 enter on the stage, before he had learned the art of fencing. So as being 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that in David's Tower (a place so called in th●… parts) was an old soldier of Christliving, by name Longinus, growing into friendship with him, he easily obtained to be admitted ●…to his house, to be guided and instructed by him, in all, and ●…oughout. Whereunto he disposed himself, with so great submis●…n of the understanding, and with so much fervor of the will, as ●…at through means of the daily exercise of virtues, and diligent ●…struction of the Master, with the noble strife of his fellow-pupils, 〈◊〉 became very suddenly perfect in the rules of profitably taming the ●…esh, of knowing and readily discerning of spirits, of restraining with a hard hand the motions of pride; and finally to walk in the ●…resence of God, with perpetual recollection of the bodily senses, ●…nd of the powers of the soul.  
S. Theodosius in this wise, having made, in monastical profession, 〈◊〉 notable a conquest of himself, as in the judgement of all, he ●…ight well be a Guide, and Master to others; notwithstanding see●…ed to himself only, to be still, but as it were, in the beginning. He had persevered yet more years in the same school, if an impe●…iment had not happened, which here we shall speak of. A cer●…ine pious, and honourable Matron, by name julia, having at her ●…ost built a magnificent Temple, to the honour of the Queen of Angels, not far off from the habitation of Longinus, obtained with great ●…stance of him, that he would appoint Theodosius by name, to the ●…ustody of that sacred place, while things were preparing about the ●…ll exercise of Religion, with the choice of Choristers, & Clerks, & of all things else belonging to the splendour of divine service ther●…. Theodosius was but unwillingly drawn from his dear conuer●…tion, and going thereupon to the said Church, remained there until such time, as he thought he might well stay there without ●…rill; but in process of time, being aware how business went, a●…out preferring him to the formal Rectorship of that College, he ●…ayed not till the matter might be concluded, when he could not ●…e able to make resistance; but in imitation of the Saviour of the World, who in the like occasion, prevented before hand the inclination of the people, he fled away secretly unto the top of a moū●…ayne, and got himself into a great cave, where by ancient Tradition, it is held the three Magis had lodged, when as they, having ●…dored the King of Heaven, and illuded that King of the Earth, they returned from judea, into their country by stealth.  
here now, S. Theodosius being quite rid of all disturbance, began that manner of life, which a good while since he had designed; where Prayer, and Psalms, with order and devotion seemed 〈◊〉 hold their turns; the vigils often endured throughout the 〈◊〉 night, and the eyes were become aperpetuall fountain of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the habit, which was a gross, and course Cassock, his food 〈◊〉 very well, as being the roots of herbs, windfall acorns, the 〈◊〉 of palms, some pulse; or when these failed, the shells of 〈◊〉 soaked in water. In this manner, the servant of God, spent 〈◊〉 days, with so much the more consolation, as he was further 〈◊〉 ve from all testimony of men, that might put him into vain glory and consequently diminish a good part of the merit. With this 〈◊〉 rinesse, concealed he himself to his power. But the divine clem●… inclining always to the universal good, could not brook so great a light, should be shut up, & enclosed so in that horrid rock. Where as soon as some ray had appeared in those country's thereabo●… there wanted not Lovers of the chiefest good, & contemners of the world to show themselves; who to be guided securely to the 〈◊〉 proposed, with all affection, craved to be admitted, and to 〈◊〉 the instruction of S. Theodosius. To whom, though he to mainta●… himself in his secret intention, would willingly have given a constant repulse; yet remembering himself, of the prophecy of 〈◊〉 Stelites, & weighing the great service, which is done to the highest wisdom, in cooperating with it, to the salvation of souls; after 〈◊〉 had excused himself, to those suitors some while, at last he per●…ted himself to be vanquished, & won, to accept them for his discipline, with retaining always in himself the interior humility 〈◊〉 before, and a vigilant care of himself.   

Two notable signs of the Providence of God, towards his Servants in their 〈◊〉ter necessities, through the prayers and merits of Saint Theodosius, Chap. 4.  
IT followed hence, that S. Theodosius, showing himself such a ●…uely mirror of all laudable actions, increased day by day the coceipt was had of the sanctity of the Superior, being a thing of inestimable moment for the quietness, cheerfulness, and incitement of the subjects. And God cherished this opinion of others with ●…uaylous signs now and then. Among which was one, that the Feast of Easter being come, & the Monks having a desire to keep that day sacred, and also very festival, with some recreation of the body and spirit; there was in that Hermitage, no ●…yle or bread, or ●…ny manner of food, to be had, for the purpose of such a Solemnity. Whereupon being sad and disconsolate, they stood, as it were, ●…eflecting thereon and exaggerating their great misfortune. Theodosius heerwith, notes their countenances to be changed, and understanding the occasion of their sadness, commands on the Saturday over night, that an Altar should be set up, and some form of a Re●…ectory be put in order for the next day. Which thing, seeming very absurd to those, who knew the want there was of all manner of ●…ictuals: Do you make ready notwithstanding, said Theodosius, what I bid to be done, and for the rest, take you no care. He that flourished so many thousands of Israelites in the desert, and after satisfied five thousand persons, with five loaves of bread, will surely likewise have compassion of us, being now no less provident, nor ●…whit less potent, than he was.  
The venerable Father, had fierce made an end to speak, when behold, two Mules appeared, well loaden with all those nourishments, which were fit for the present solemnity, and monastical profession. Whereat they yielding endless thanks to the divine mercy and acknowledging the truth of the promises, and efficacy of the prayers of the Saint, the sacrifice being finished the next morning, and the provision disposed in order, they all very cheerfully refreshed themselves, in either kinds. And after some time, that poor family, falling into straits again, and even ready to murmur ●…hereat, not so firm and assured of the former succour, as dejected and oppressed with the present necessity; S. Theodosius encouraged them the while, with saying among other things: Who ever trusted in our Lord, and hath been abandoned by him? Who hath ever faithfully depended on him, & hath not been comforted? Let jeremy the Prophet answer for me: he hath replenished 〈◊〉 soul, that was a hungry. Let job, and David answer likewise: He prepares ●…ood for the crows, and their young ones. So as ●…ence we may learn at last, how much the divine Providence, excels any human ●…ndustry, which even of set purpose many times, le's things be brought to extremes, that the remedy may prove more grateful, and be held more worthy of acknowledgement. And we plainly 〈◊〉 the while, even in this life also, how largely he required all those things, which for his sake, we have left in the world.  
In this manner, went S. Theodosius, comforting those saint minds; when it pleased God, that a rich distributer of alms, 〈◊〉 along those craggy mountains, to relieve certain others in necessity, as soon as he approached to the side of S. Theodosius his 〈◊〉, perceived on a sudden, his beast first of all to stand still, and th●… after to bend very violently that way; whereat the rider marveling much, who as yet had no notice of the retirement of S. Theodo●…, after he had a good while been spurring and kicking the beast onwards in vain, at last resolves to let the reynes go loose, and 〈◊〉 see whither the secret instinct would seem to lead him: and the beast therupon went directly to the unknown cave, where the good man perceiving with his own eyes, the distresses of those religious there, did bless the divine Majesty for the occasion afforded him, to merit so, and redoubling the alms he intended to have 〈◊〉 unto others, he left those souls, though feeble otherwise, & unexpert Novices, so provided and contented withal, as they had and occasion, to rely ever after on the heavenly protection, & ne●… more to make any doubt thereof.   

The number of S. Theodosius his disciples increaseth. He builds a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Convent, according to the miraculous direction of God. Chap. 4  
IN the mean time, with the ●…ame of S. Theodosius increased the number of his Disciples, and Conuictours; insomuch as now th●… first habitation not sufficing, with all the cottages adjoining thereunto; it was needful for him, to apply himself to a formal building, that were capable of an extraordinary multitude; nor was it any difficult matter for him, to take such an enterprise in hand, while the wealthy and devout persons of all those countries thereabout, so readily concurred thereunto. He stood yet a good while 〈◊〉 suspense, abou●… the election of the seat thereof: in which consultation, having more than once considered many places, both 〈◊〉 and further off, he finally resolved to be certified of the best, and more grateful to God, in the manner following▪  
He took then a Thurible in his hand, full of ●…oles, and putting incense thereon, but without any fire, went his ways through all the desert, devoutly singing of prayers very apt for the purpose as these: O God, who by the means of many, and stupendio●… proofs, perswadedst Moses, to take the government of the Israel●… in hand, and with them likewise, with affects above nature, pro●…uredst him credit, who changedst the rod into a serpent, the sound ●…to a leprous hand▪ and in a moment restoredst the same from le●…rous, as clean and sound as ever; who convertedst water into ●…loud, and the blood again into water. Thou who with shew●…ng the fleece, mad'st Gedeon secure of the victory. Thou who hast ●…ramed all things, and still conservest the same. Thou who decla●…edst to Ezechias, with Sunne-dyall reversed, the addition of his yea●…es. Thou who at the prayer of Elias, for the conversion of Idola●…ours, didst send down fire from Heaven, which in a moment, ●…onsumed both the victim, the moist wood, and the water there●…bout, together with the stones of the Altar themselves. Thou I ●…ay say, O Lord, who art now the same thou wast then; hear ●…e also, thy poor Servant, and vouchsafe to intimate to me, where it pleaseth thee, I should now erect a Temple to thy divine Majesty, and a dwelling for my children. And I shall understand that plot, to like thee best, where thou shalt cause these coals to enkindle of themselves.  
With these invocations, went he circling about all those moun●…aynes, no●… ever left, till he arrived at Cu●…illa, and the banks of the ●…ake Assaltite. But seeing the coals in the Thurible to be yet cold, ●…nd dead, laying the default on his demerits, he returned against his will; when not far from the Cave, he suddenly sees a smoke to ●…ise up from the coals, through divine power, as it were, enkind●…ed of themselves. Wherewith, being fully satisfied of the divine will, while the large contributions of the faithful failed him not; first of all, he began to erect a Church, with diverse Chappells, & Quires, distinguished in such sort, as without hindering one another, the sacred Offices, might there be sung at the same time, in ●…undry languages, by several nations. Whence it was afterwards, 〈◊〉 thing of great consolation to hear Psalms, and Hymns sunge ●…t once with order, and sweetness, by Palestines, Bess●…ans, Greeks, and ●…rmenians.  
The house of God being finished, he passed to that of Men, with such distinction, and so much scope and ampleness, as that the first Cloister was for the use of the Monks, with all the Offices requisi●…e, and with a partition, which is called in the Greek tongue, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, for the commodity of such, as being toiled out with ●…abours, and worn with years, were not able, to wield themsel●…es, or keep them to the observance of the order. Next to the same, the Ghestory, or rooms for secular strangers; yet divided into two parts, the one for persons of quality, the other for the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Then followed the Hospital of the poor, and sick of every 〈◊〉 and in the last the lodgings of persons possessed with spirits. Because that among other works of mercy, S. Theodosius gave himself, with particular diligence most benignly to receive a number of Her●… who without first purging their soul with due remedies, through false appearance of good, and proud presumption of their own knowledge, hiding themselves, some in this & some in that ca●…; were thereby, through the just judgement of God, most miserably abused and oppressed by the Devil. To these, besides corporal su●…stenance, he would also give wholesome advices, and seek to take away the false opinions from their minds: and a good part of th●… time, which they had free from torments, he would cause them to spend in prayers, and psalms. He would enter moreover by day & night into the sickmen's chambers; and with particular tenderness, comfort the lame, the wounded, and leprous, feeding them with his own hands, washing the stinking and noisome ulcers now of this, and then of that man, and lastly with frequent kisses, and amorous arms, be dear embracing them.   

The great Hospitality of S. Theodosius in the time of a Dearth, and 〈◊〉 God concurred therewithal: with his great zeal for the Catholic Church▪ Chap. 5.  
AT the same of so great charity of S. Theodosius, were a great 〈◊〉 of persons of all qualities, assembled together at the said place, to all which, with much patience, and with very good order, was both diet, and lodging afforded: and it would fall out now, and then, especially at some principal Feasts of the Mot●… of God, that at diverse hours of the day, they were fain to furnish 〈◊〉 hundred tables. And there happening afterwards an universal dea●… almost through all the provinces of the East, there came such a multitude to that noble Monastery, as that the Officers, fearing some disorder, resolved to keep them out of the Cloisters, and with exist measure to deal them victuals by weight. The which, as soon ●…t S. Theodosius once understood; confiding now more than ever in the divine Goodness causing the gates to be set open, in the sight of all most cheerfully admitted the press of people; and in virtue of his firm faith, and inflamed prayers, the prou●…on in creased of itself in the Cellars and Pantryes, in such sort, as that all being satisfied at table, there was plenty enough yet left for such as waited.  
Among which occupations of theirs, by how much fuller of distractions, they are of themselves, so much the more vigilantly watched the good Pastor for the spiritual conservation, and the 〈◊〉 piety of his Monks, endeavouring by all means, that at certain hours, they might be recollected in necessary meditation of virtues, and of the 〈◊〉 acknowledgement of their own defects; and to the end, the ordinary means unto purity of hart, might not turn into ceremonies, and their frequent victories oc●…asion security, (to which perils, religious are commonly exposed) ●…esides his own example, as we said, with works, he would likewise excite the Family from time to time, with inflamed words, 〈◊〉 thus: I beseech you, would he say, my brothers, by that Lord who ●…ath given himself for our sins, let us once apply ourselves in earnest, and truly indeed, to the care of our souls. Let us bitterly bewail our days unprofitably spent, and endeavour not to lose those same which remain. Let us not suffer ourselves to be slou●…full in sensuality; nor the occasions of this present day escape out of our hands, through the foolish hopes of the morrow, lest death surprising us void of merits with the foolish virgins, we come to ●…e excluded from the blessed nuptials, whence we shall afterwards bewail, when it will be too late to repent. Behold now is the ●…cceptable time, behold the day of salvation. This is the course of ●…abours, that same shall be the joy of rewards. This the sowing of tears, and that the fruit of consolation. For the present, God is very favourable to such as convert themselves to him: then shall ●…e be a terrible judge, and a strict examiner of each work, word, & ●…hought of ours. We now do enjoy his Longanimity, then shall we experience his justice, when we come to arise again, some to e●…ernall felicity, and others to the qualities, and deme●…nours of each one. How long then shall it be, ere were fully obey the counsels of Christ, who with so especial a vocation invites us to the heavenly kingdom? Shall we not awake from the sleep of slothfulness? Shall we not raise ourselves from base●… thoughts, to Euangeli●…all perfection? And yet, forsooth, we profess to aspire to the coū●…ry of the blessed, and on the other side, we 〈◊〉 the means that ●…ades us to it. And surely this is a great vanity of ours, that flying the labours of the warfare, we should promise to ourselves 〈◊〉 crownes of the victory.  
With such like reasons, S. Theodosius awaked his subjects, and confirmed them, as need required, not only with ancient and modern examples, but also with diverse authorities of the sacred w●… explaining the difficult places thereof, with such clarity, and impressing them strongly with such an energy withal, as the Audi●… remained therewith much illumined in the understanding, & inflamed in the will. He was more over exceedingly versed in the a●…cient Traditions, and in the Orthodox, and sincere doctrine of the Fathers, and especially of the Great Basil, whose writings, & principally those of monastical constitutions, he held in great veneration▪ Nor was this great zeal of his, restrained a whit within the boun●… of that house, or among the inhabitants of that Province only; b●… nobly dilated itself unto the common benefit of the Catholic Church, and to the conservation of the right faith, against the subtilityes, and lewd machinations of perfidious people, ambitious, & friends of novelty, as appears in the chapter following.   

The ancient Heresies arising, are mainly resisted by S. Theodosius; 〈◊〉 that cause he is banished by the Emperor: who dying shortly after, 〈◊〉 Church flourished again. Chap. 6.  
THere arose again in those days, through the secret iudge●… of God, revived by diverse Sectaries, worthily called 〈◊〉 the pestiferous opinions of Nestorius, Eutiches, Dioscoru●…, and Seu●… already condemned by four General Counsels, the Nicen, 〈◊〉 Constantinople, & Chalcedon; and among the other multitude, was 〈◊〉 Emperor Anastasius very miserably seduced by them, insomuch as 〈◊〉 laboured to amplify his Sect, by all means possible. But the pr●…cipall assault he used, was to gain the holier Prelates to him, o●… to take them away, by disquietting, and assailing now this, now that, by himself and his Ministers; now with prayers, and th●… with persuasions, now with monies and titles, and then wi●… menaces, depressions, and banishments.  
In this manner, having tempted, and prevailed with diverse, he finally resolved to s●…t upon S. Theodosius, as seeming to himself▪ that he should make a great conquest, if he could but reduce an 〈◊〉 of so great a ●…ame, and reputation unto his part. To this in●… by men for the purpose, he sent him letters, full of feigned friendship, perverse counsels, and deep malice, and for the greater efficacy, under the show of piety, adjoined thereunto a rich present, of thirty pounds of gold, for the holy man to bestow at his pleasure in works of mercy. With this device the Emperor thought to batter the fortress of S. Theodosius; but he found himself to be much deceived of his presumption. For the Servant of Christ indeed, accepted the gift, and faithfully shared it amongst the poor; but for the particular of Religion, most freely answered the Emperor, and his Messengers, that he would please not to enter into such practice with him, since he was fully resolved to lose not one life only, but a hundred lives, rather than once to move an inch from the doctrine of the universal Church, and from the articles, and Decrees of the Sacred Counsels.  
To this effect was the answer of the glorious Abbot: which made such impression in the Emperor at first, as he being touched therewith, and acknowledging the error, returned him fresh letters again, protesting those motions and troubles, wherein the Christians were then embroiled, were not caused, or occasioned by him, but through the pride, and unquiet nature of some Priests, from whom particularly he should rather have expected all care, to maintain the people of God in peace, and concord. Wherefore now the more earnestly, he exhorted the Blessed Father, to continue still in his good purposes, and to renforce, together with the other Monks, the usual prayers for the quiet of the common wealth. Such demonstrations as these, for that time Anastasius showed being of a better mind; but (as he was of a nature exceeding unconstant and mutable) it was not long ere that suffering himself ●o be ●…rned again, and deceived through perfdious Counsellors, he entered into rage more than ever. And besides the placing in diverse Countries of false ministers of the Gospel; he sent withal, a great company of Soldiers, to hinder by force and Preachings, Consults, and assemblies of the maintainers, and favourers of the truth. Which command was immediately put into execution.  
But S. Theodosius for all this, ceased not to prosecute his generous actions: but rather with redoubled fervour having made choice of exemplar, learned, and zealous labourers, began with them to ●…it and make his progress through the villages, astles, and Cities thereabout, and to present with fit antidotes, and wholesome medecins, the hellish poison of heresy; in catechi●…ing the 〈◊〉 reclaiming the strayed, encouraging the wavering, confirming 〈◊〉 stable: and in sum, not 〈◊〉 slowing any means, which 〈◊〉 to the help of 〈◊〉; and to the glory of Christ, whereby 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he came to promote things so far, as that notwithstanding 〈◊〉 frowns of 〈◊〉 soldiers, and subtilityes of the adversary, mounting the pulpit, with a most extraordinary concourse of people, 〈◊〉 publicly declared, all those to be excommunicated, who departed from the authority, and constitution●… of the foresaid 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 nerall Counsels. Which as soon as Anastasius the E●…perour hea●… 〈◊〉 forgetting quite the veneration he had showed before to the person 〈◊〉 S. Theodosius, and together without conscience, having wholly 〈◊〉 all shame, without ●…spect disgracefully 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 stery, and condemned him, with opprobrious and ini●… 〈◊〉, to perpetual banishment. Which notwithstanding, through divine Goodness, continued not long. For that the Emperor, within a 〈◊〉 months, being with a heavenly mace summoned before that 〈◊〉 bunall which cannot err, ●…ad for his Successor the famous 〈◊〉 through whose valour ●…nd prudence ●…he clouds of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dispe●…d, the furi●…s 〈◊〉 o●…●…cutions ceased, and 〈◊〉 tranquillity returned to the 〈◊〉 of Christ again.   

S. Theodosius being returned again to his Charge, cured a woman of 〈◊〉 Canker. And works other miracles beside. Chap. 7.  
NOw S. Theodosi●…s, with the i●…y and ●…ubiley of all the ●…ay 〈◊〉, being remitted again into his former) ch●…rge, be taken himself with fresh courage to his wont exercises; the which 〈◊〉 acceptable and grateful they were to the divine Majesty, besi●… 〈◊〉 aforesaid signs, may likewise appear by the marvellous th●… that follow. The 〈◊〉 of the holy Cross, was kept 〈◊〉 there, in a ●…ayne Temple built by Constan●… for that purpose, i●… those countries. And to this Solemnity went S. Theodosiu●… wi●… many of his Monks. Whereof a certain woman having got some ●…tice, that had been cruelly tormented a long while with a ho●…ible canker in one of her breasts, and who had proved diverse med●…cins in vain; resolved at last upon divine remedies, and 〈◊〉 bring herself of the generous resolution of that famous▪ 〈◊〉 with like ●…ayth & greatness of courage, 〈◊〉 entered into the Church while the Office was celebrated. And being she●… the Man of ●…od (whom she knew not by ●…ace) with ●…ealing paces, & with●… noise, approached behind him, and dexterously applying the ●…greiued part, to the ●…ood of the Saint, most certain i●… is at the first ●…uch of the sacred cloth, all pain on a sudden abandoned the breast ●…nd left no scar of the ulcer.  
This sudden, and so perfect a cur●…, to the great glory of God, ●…as proclaimed through the East. Besides which, that other which ●…cceeded in his return from Bethle●…, gave great matter of ac●…nowledging, and praising the divine power in the person of S. ●…eodosius; when as he being lodged in the Convent of the Abbot ●…artian, caused through this benediction, from one sole grain of ●…orne, in a few hours, so great a quantity to be multiplied, as that ●…e granary being not able to hold the same, in the sight of all men, ●…e corn broke forth at the door.  
Elsewhere again, a child being fallen into a deep well, through ●…he same intercession, being held past all human succour, in the ●…sence of many, to the inestimable joy of the afflicted and 〈◊〉 Mother, came forth again, very safe and ●…ound. Through 〈◊〉 ●…me of these, and other such like marvellous things, a certain 〈◊〉 of the East, whose name was 〈◊〉, being to pass●… with his 〈◊〉, against the Persians, first visiting the holy City of Jerusalem; ●…payred also to the Monastery of S. Thedosius, by whom being ex●…ted, with lively reasons, not to place his hopes of the Victory, 〈◊〉 the multitude, or fo●…ce of his souldio●…s, but in the aid of him▪ who as well can work won●…rs with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as with infinite 〈◊〉, he became so inflamed with the admonitions, & manner of ●…he ●…lessed Man; as that to enter into battle, he esteemed he could not ●…ake use of armour of better proof, then of the Cilice that S. Theo●…s was wont to wear on his naked ski●…. Wherewith, being armed, together with the benediction of the said Father, going his ways, with his army, towards the enemy, he came very sudden●…y to handy blows, and that with so much the greater confidence; ●…s he had beside the foresaid coat of male, the person of S. Theo●…osius also ever in his eyes; who in the heat of the battle, with ●…ointing, and signs of the hand, went sh●…wing him still, what 〈◊〉 to enforce, what advantages to take, where the ensigns should 〈◊〉 advanced, and where courageously he should spur his horse. By which apparition, the deu●… Champion, being greatly encouraged on every side where he seemed but to cast his eyes, as that 〈◊〉 the Pagans to flight, and terror; it was not long, 〈◊〉 ●…e returned backefull of joy and glory, to give S. Theodosius a distinct account of all that day's work, with immortal thanks.  
Many other apparitions, are recompted of this divine Man, 〈◊〉 heretofore of S. Nicolas. By means whereof, here one at sea very happily escapes out of cruel tempe●…s; and here another in the land from savage beasts; and some from this peril, and some from that: There are likewise told diverse predictions of his▪ whence 〈◊〉 appears, how eminent he was in the spirit of Prophecy. But setting apart such like graces, being common with men, sometimes 〈◊〉 no good life, my pen more willingly converts itself, to the 〈◊〉 discourse of his religious Virtue.   

The Humility, and Patience of the Man of God, especially in his extremity 〈◊〉 sickness. And how sweetly he gave up the Ghost. Chap. 8.  
AMong the virtues of this Venerable man, the solicitude 〈◊〉 had of manteyning continual peace, and true concord between his Subjects, not deserved the least place. And this ●…are 〈◊〉 his, so boiled in his breast, as that when any of them, by so●… accident had broken any friendship between them, if by no other means, he could not piece, and reunite them again, he would not stick to cast himself down at their fee●…e, and to pray and conjure each part so long, as that being mollifyed with tenderness, and confounded with shame, deposing all rancour, they became reconciled to each other. From whence, may likewise be gathered, how great was the humility of the holy man, most worthy of admiration, were it only for this, that by such acts he lost no reputation, but rather how much greater contempt he showed of himself, he wa●… so much the more esteemed, and reverenced by oaths.  
With this submission of his, was the virtue of Patience seen 〈◊〉 march hand in hand with him, being a safe buckler, and secure 〈◊〉 of the soldiers of Christ, against the hot and furious assaul●… of the ancient adversary. Of which kind of aims, how 〈◊〉 the Man of God would be helping himself, he notably 〈◊〉 in his extreme age. Because, that being oppressed, through●… most grievous infirmity, which made him more than a year to keep his bed, with most sharp dolours; yet for all that, he failed not of his in ward peace, nor yet for s●…ew his accustomed prayer, and familiarity with God. And they affirmed who assisted him day & night, ●…hat in the greatest extremity of all, and fury of his fits, he did nothing, or said any word un worthy of Christian magnanimity, or of his former behaviour.  
But even rather the said assistants aver: That a certain venerable old man, being come to visit him, and through compassion, bidding him pray to God, to deliver him of so great affliction, and he should easily be heard; with no pleasing countenance, contrary ●…o custom, he answered thus: Of charity, Father, speak not to me ●…ny more in this manner, for as often as such thoughts have come ●…nto my mind, I ever held them, as suggestions of the enemy, & with all endeavour have expelled them from me, discoursing in this manner with myself; that to abate the pride that may arise in me from the credit, which God hath pleased to give me on earth, these ●…gonyes, and humiliations are to very good purpose. And what share, trow you, are we like to have in the consolations of the E●…ernity, if in this short space, or rather moment of time, we suffer ●…ot some manner of affliction? In truth, Father, we needs must resolve to suffer at this present, if we would not worthily be vp●…rayded with these words hereafter, Recepisti bona tua in vita tua. Thus S. Theodosius spoke: and the Monk admiring, and touched withal, went his ways.  
In the mean time, the Man of God, feeling himself to decay more and more, & calling at last his sad disciples to his Cell, with his own and their great feeling, he exhorted them to persevere in their vocation, and stoutly to resist all temptations; and above all, to maintain faithful and prompt Obedience, to whom soever with lawful election should come to succeed him in the government. Moreover, very humbly calling for three of the Bishops of those countries, and communicating with them, some things of importance for the public service; in the presence of them, and of all the Monks in tears, he alone being joyful, and glad, having with diligence procured already all things necessary for such a presage, did lift up his eyes and hands to heaven, and then decently ●…sting them on his breast, without any difficulty, yielded up his spirit, being now of 105. years old.  
And it pleased our Lord, that a man possessed of an ill spirit, who till that time could never be delivered from so great a calamity; now finally casting himself down, with many tears, and bitter sighs, on the couch of the Saint, at the first touch of the venerable Relics (but yet more tormented then ever) in the presence of as many as were there, was freed, and secure from that 〈◊〉 tyranny.  
The blessed Pope Hormisda, had the care of the Universal Church at that time (though others according to S. Cyrill, would have him to have arrived to the times of Pope Agapitus, that is, to the year 536▪) and in particular of Jerusalem, in the time of the Patriarch Peter; who at the first advertisement of the departure of S. Theodosius, came in haste to the Monastery, while an infinite number of people, of all parts, came likewise in to obtain some sh●…ed of the Garment, or Capuch of the blessed man, or at least to com●… near him, and contemplate more freely on those chaste limbs of his, which had been such efficacious instruments of the high Cr●…tour. Whereupon to satisfy the pious desire of the multitude, the sacred corpse of force remained unburied, until such time, as the throng being somewhat ceased, he was, by his dearest, & most denoted friends, with tears and sighs, deposed in the bosom of the common Mother, from thence to arise again, at the sound of the last trumpet, with the other Elect, most glorious, and resplendent for all Eternity.   
FINIS.   

S. BENET ABBOT.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

Look how the Rosy Daughter of the morn,  
The Star that glads each mortal with its sight,  
Leaving at first old Titan's bed forlorn,  
About the Spheres doth cast her Crimsom light;  
Roses and Lillies hurling through the sky,  
Quenching the stars with rays from thence that fly.   

So glorious was thy morning, so bright rays  
Thy tender years did lighten, and foretold  
The heavenly Sunshine of thy riper days,  
Dispelling darkness, and inflaming cold  
And senseless hearts with fire of holy love,  
And drawing all to seek the joys above.   

Thou taughtst the way, removing obstacles,  
That as they rise depress our mounting souls:  
Thy doctrine thou confirmdst with miracles,  
And heaven by thee both Death and Hell controls.  
If Star, or Angel bring Heaven's influence,  
Thou art that Star, thou that Intelligence.    

THE LIFE OF S. BENET ABBOT. Taken out of the Dialogues of S. Gregory.  

The Infancy, and more tender years of S. Benet; with his inclination to piety and religion: And how Romanus a Monk assisted him therein. Chap. 1.  
SAINT Benet, Founder of the most noble Congregation of Mount Casin; gave with his birth, no little glory to Nursia, though otherwise, a notable and famous City, in the Confines of Marca, and Vmbria, It was in the year of our Lord 482. when Gelasius the first, governed the Catholic Church, and Anastasius the Empire. The Father of S, Benet was called Proprius, the Mother Abundantia, of the family of Riguardati, at that time, not only Honourable, but potent and Illustrious. The Child of a rare to wardness, in wit fa●…re outstripping his years, in showing himself to be aliened from all manner of pleasures and sports, was sent to Rome, to study, under the tutelage of one, that had a good care of him. here now being entered into profane schools, he was soon aware of the perils, that hung over him, through vain sciences, ill companies, and ●…he snares and intrications of the world. So as, fearing some precipice, he made haste to pluck out his foot betimes; with firm deli●…eration to repair unto the desert, and with all endeavour to at●…end to the divine worship, and to the salvation of his Soul.  
With this deliberation, the Saint and Elect of God first retired himself from the concourse of Rome, into the castle of Offida, without other company, then only of his Nurse, that dearly loved him, from whom (as yet) he could not conveniently quit himself. Nor was it long, err the Divine Goodness with evident signs, began to show forth how gratefully he accepted the religious purposes of S. Benet. For that a Scry wherewith they winnow corn, being broken by chance in two pieces, which the Nurse had borrowed of her neighbours, and she poor woman most pitifully lamenting for it, the pious youth could by no means endure to see her so distressed. Whereupon putting himself into prayer, with the two pieces thereof by his side, as soon as he had ended the same, he found them suddenly united, and the Vessel as whole, and sound, as if it had never been broken or hurt at all. The miracle was great, & could not be concealed, whence all the inhabitants thereabout, came running in to behold the same, blessing our Lord, and magnifying the Child, with the words that had been spoken heretofore of the holy Precursour of Christ: and further for memory of the fact, they did hang up the said Scry publicly, at the entrance of the Church, where it remayed, till such time, as the Country was sacked by the Lombard's.  
These favours & acclamations were a great spur unto S. Benet, to fly away thence, and to hide himself, as soon as he could. So that abandoning his Nurse, and as many as knew him; he secretly got him to the Mountains of Sublacum, about some 40. miles distant from Rome; a territory but obscure in those days, though illustrious afterwards, through the abode and long conversation of S. Benet. And it pleased God, that before his arrival thither, he should hap to meet which a certain Monk, by name Romanus, who courteously examining him of his life, and understanding his heavenly Vocation, gave him besides good counsels, the habit moreover of an Hermit, with promise withal to keep it secret, and to be assisting unto him, in what he might. With such direction, the new Champion of Christ being come to Sublacum, puts himself into a most straight ca●…e, and therein remained shut up, for three yea●… co●…nually together, without the knowledge of any person, in the world, except Romanus; who living not far off, in a monastery under the Obedience of S. Theodosius Abbot, failed not to steal some part of his leisure, and reserve also some pittance of the food allowed him, to visit from time to time, and to sustain his dear disciple. And forasmuch as from the Convent to the cave, no path way was to be found, there hanging a very high cliff just over the same; Romanus was wont to tie to a long cord, that little bread he could get, with a bell unto it, by sound whereof S. Benet might conveniently understand, when his refection was brought him.   

Our Lord appears to a Priest, and sends him with victuals to S. Benet. He 〈◊〉 assailed with a cruel temptation, which he strangely puts away. And afterwards escapes poisoning. Chap. 2.  
NOw the ancient Adversary, not brooking well the charity of Romanus, and the life of S. Benet; in letting down the cord abovesaid, threw down a stone upon the bell, & burst it to pieces, which notwithstanding Romanus failed not to supply, and still to persever in that work of mercy, until such time, as our Lord, being willing to give him rest of such labours, and to others the example of so high and sublime virtue, appeared in vision to a certain Priest of those countries, who to feast himself on the day of Pascha, had made ready a good dinner to that end, and said to him; Thou stand'st here preparing thee banquets, when lo, my Servant the 〈◊〉, lies starving yonder for hunger. At which admonishment the good Pri●… arising suddenly, on the same day of Easter, with his victuals, pu●… himself on the way, and after he had fetched some compass about those mountains and valleys, a pretty while, he found S. Be●… at last, in the Cave. When saluting him fairly, and making so●… prayer together with him: Let us now, said he, afford some little nourishment to the body, & rejoice in our Lord, for this is the Feast of the Pascha. It is truly a Pasch to me, answered S. Benet (who in so great a solitude, until this time, have not known the course of the year) and you have afforded me a Feast sufficient already with your presence. Nay truly, not so (replied the Priest) to day is celebrated the Resurrection of our Lord, not is it any ways fit for you to fast on this day, and that especially so much the rather, as I am sent hither of purpose, to communicate in charity with you on this day.  
Then without more strife or contention they both blessing our ●…rd, fell to eating, and after a sweet, and spiritual discourse had between them, the Priest went his ways. And now, as it were, at the same time, some shepherds also lighted on the said place: Who beholding amidst those brakes, the holy young man to be clothed with ●…kyns, at first they took him for a beast that might lurk there, but after approaching near unto him, and illumined with his admirable advices, & christian doctrine; they knew anon themselves, who till that time, had been but as brute beasts. Whereupon being touched with true Contrition, they gave themselves from thenceforth ●…o a more reasonable life. From whence, the fame of S. Benet began to spread itself, & the poor Cave to be frequented of many; who bringing him corporal food, returned from thence, well refreshed with spiritual nourishment.  
On those days, he being once all alone, was assailed by the Devil, in form of a black Bird, being called a Moorehen, which for a good space, did never give over from flying in his face, with such importunity, and so near withal, as he might easily have taken her in his hand, if he had listed. But he chose rather to defend himself, with the sign of the holy cross. Whereupon the bird flew away, leaving notwithstanding a cruel temptation with an intolerable passion, enkindled in the members of the young man. In such wise, as the soldier of Christ, stood now upon staggering, & deliberating, as it were, to return back into the world again; when being suddenly fortified with divine Grace, he re-entered into himself again, and beholding a bush of sharp thorns, and stinging net●…les at hand, with a generous force pulling off his clothes, on a sudden casts he himself thereinto, & so long rolled his naked body thereon, as that being full of wounds, and blood all over, with the external heat he extinguished the internal, and through such a noble act remained so victorious over the rebellion's flesh, as that from thence forth (as himself reported to his Disciples) he never felt any more trouble thereof.  
After this, it pleased God, that diverse persons of sundry places should repair to S. Benet, desirous not only of salvation, but even likewise of perfection. And it was but just, that he now possessing so peacefully the kingdom of his proper mind, should be applied to the care & government of others. For that we see also in the wri●…ten Law, how the Levits, in the fervor of their youth, were tied to labour, & to serve in the Temple; nor before they were ●…ull 50. years old (at which time, it is supposed their passions, are in quiet, and the heart at rest) were they made the Guardians, and Sacristans of the holy Vessels, which are interpreted the reasonable souls. But among others, who approached to S. Benet the servant of God for his help, were some religious of a neighbour Monastery thereby, who in those days being destitute of an Abbot, besought him to take the charge upon him.  
These men, were accustomed to a large, and more liberal life, and little disposed to conform themselves with the manners of 〈◊〉. Benet. And he being aware thereof, for a while made a strong resistance to their request. But being constrained through the praye●… and conjurations of the whole Family, he accepted the government at last; and first with example, and after with words, endeavoured he to take away the abuses, and then to bring in a form of living, worthy of the profession they made. But soon it appeared, how the good inspirations and desires they had, had taken but little root in their souls; because that shortly they were all aggrieved with the Rule, and reformation made; and the diabolical instigations had gotten such power in some, as that not being able to endure in their sight, such a lively and continual example of extreme abstinence, & perfect manners, they determined to take him away, out of hand, with poison. But the divine justice, suffered not their wicked design to take affect: because that at the time of the refection, while one of them, was presenting the holy Father with a cup of poisoned wine, it pleased God, with the sign of the Cross which S. Benet, according to custom, used to make thereupon, the glass, as with the blow of a stone, fell suddenly into pieces, and the wine from the brother's hand, dropped down to the ground. Whence the Man of God, knew presently, that drink without doubt to be the potion of Death which could not endu●… the sign of life. And thereupon with a mind composed, and a fa●… serene. turning himself to the Monks; God forgive you (said he) what a plot was this amongst you? Did I not tell you at first, my manners would never seem to agree with yours? Then rest you in peace, and seek you out some other, that may govern you better, And heerwith, leaving them quite confounded and astonished he retired to his desired Cave again, and there attended seriously to himself.   

How two principal Senators of Rome offer up, and dedicate their children to S. Benet: and how a Monk was led away by a Devil, which S. Benet discovers, and remedies. Chap. 3.  
TRue it is, that S. Benet was not suffered to enjoy that estate any time, because that the odour of such a sanctity, continually spreading itself more and more; there repaired to him a new concourse of people, much touched with the holy Ghost, and cloyed with the world. With which multitude after a sufficient instruction had, he founded in those countries, about a dozen Monasteryes, appointing Laws, offices, and an Abbot to each. So as diverse personages, and Senators of Rome, began now to hold it a great felicity to have any Children at such a time, to send to S. Benet, and to dedicate them under the care of such a Father, to the service of the divine Majesty. Among which, were two principal, Eutitius and Tertullus. Whereof one offered Maurus, a young man of so rare a wit and of such a spirit withal, as in short time, he became an assistant of the Master himself. The other greatly addicted to the same discipline, with much veneration, offered in person his eldest son Placidus to him yet a Child, & then after made likewise, a free donation of a great mass of riches, farms, manners, and Castles to the Saint, with cities both maritime, and in land, whereof the Catalogue would be here too long: surely to the great confusion of our times, in which as the entering into Religion is ordinarily held desperation, shame & madness; so the taking away of subject's reputation and goods from them, is reputed, and that even of those who call themselves Christians, to be good prudence, valour, and justice..  
But to return to S. Benet, unto whom as well in the beginning, as in the progress of his administration, there happened many notable things. The vigilant Pastor, with the greatest solicitude that might be, was wont to apply his subjects to the study of prayer, as knowing well, how necessary the succour of Heaven must needs be, for the cutting off of disordinate affects, and repressing of passions withal, which even from the mould whereof we are framed, do continually spring, For which cause, besides the particular devotions of each one, at certain hours, he would assemble them all together, in a certain place deputed for holy exercises. Now it happened, that in one of those assemblies, while divine office being ended the Monks were meditating, & conversing with God; one of them, being vanquished with rediousnes, we●… forth of the Choir, and partly went idly up and down here and there, and partly busyed himself in some temporal matter of little moment. Which being known to his Abbot Pompeanus, after he had admonished him thereof diverse times, but all in vain, he brought him at last to S. Benet himself, who with a good reprehension sent him back again.  
But yet this availed not much, because after two days, the Monk returned to his old custom: and Pompeanus anew had recourse to the Saint, who being moved with compassion for the sheep nigh lost, determined immediately to go in person himself to apply by all possible means, some present remedy thereunto. Taking then Maurus, for his companion, and Pompeanus withal, he went his ways thither: and setting himself to espy, in a fit place, what happened in time of prayer, he saw how a little black boy, took the Monk by the hem of his Cassock, and went leading him forth of the Oratory. Then the vigilant Prelate said secrely to Maurus and Pompeanus. Do you not see therewho it is, that leads him thus away? and they answering, no: Let us pray then, said he, that you may be likewise made partakers of the spectacle. And so they did all for two days together, at the end whereof, Maurus did deserve to see the revelation, while the other found not the grace. Which done, yet S. Benet expected another day, and suddenly after prayer again, finding the Monk to be yet gadding as before, he gave him a blow, which had so much efficacy with it, as that the devil, as it himself had been lashed, had not the hart to return any more to the same again. This accident surely, was very memorable, but yet this other which follows, is no less glorious than it, though in a different kind.   

S. Benet causeth a spring to arise out on the top of a mountain: With other accidents beside. Chap. 4.  
AMong the Monasteryes, whereof we have made some mention above, three were seated on a high and craggy rock, and so dry with all, as the Monks were enforced, through those cliffs & steepy places, to fetch their water from the Lake, which as then the river of Teneron caused, and that not only with extraordinary travail and pains, but even also with the manifest danger, & continual fear of precipices. Whereupon the Monks certified S. Benet of the greatness of the difficulty they felt, and besought him humbly, that he would be pleased to place them somewhere else. The benign Father, was touched with tenderness at the request, and giving them good hope, dismissed them anon, bidding them to return to him on the next day. In the mean while, the night being come, without taking any other than the innocent Placidus with him, he went secretly to the top of those cliffs, where he made his prayer, and in the very fame place, putting down three stones, as a sign, with like secrecy as before, he returned home to his Cell again. When day was come, behold the Monks return; to whom S. Benet, without more ado: Go your ways, said he, towards such a place, & where you shall find three stones laid one upon another, there dig, for God is able to produce water on the tops of mountains to ease you of the pains of so tedious a journey. And they going with great confidence to the said place, found it already to wax moist, & to spring up water, increasing at last in so great abondance, as unto this present day, without diminishing awhit, it still runs from that top, to the foot of the hill. With this remedy the Saint refreshed and eased his disciples of their travail and thirst: & with this other that follows gave peace to a timorous, and anxious soul.  
A certain poor man in those days, was converted to the faith, a Goth by nation, who putting himself into the hands of S. Benet, by whom being exercised in his time, as well in spirit as in bodily labour, he was appointed after prayer, to fell down a piece of wood, upon the bank of the Lake there, to make a garden plot of. Now it happened, while the prompt Neophit attended with all his forces, to cut down the bushes and briers, that the head of his axe, flying off suddenly from the helue, f●…ll into the deep water, without hope of ever recovering it again. Whereupon, being afflicted for the loss, which it seemed to him, he had caused to the Convent, he went trembling to accuse himself unto Maurus, and to do penance for the same, in case he had committed any fault therein. Maurus was much edified at so tender a conscience; nor was he slack the while to acquaint the common Parent, & Master therewith. Then S. Benet being moved to compassion, went his ways to the Lake, and taking the helue of the hatchet out of the Goths hand, threw it into the water, and the head of the hatchet of itself immediately floating, took hold of the helue again, and came to the land: at which sight, the Goes being astonished, and quite as it were, besides himself, S. Benet puts the hatchet into his hand, saying: My son, Go to work again, and trouble not yourself any further in the matter. There follows yet another act, no less admirable than this, and perhaps from the time of S. Peter the Apostle hitherto, not heard of before.  
Placidus on a time, being gone to the said Lake for water, while he stoops with his vessel, fell unfortunately thereinto, and being snatched by the stream, in a moment was carried away, the distance for space of a bows shot from the land. This in spirit S. Benet did behold, being shut up in his Cell, and calling Maurus very suddenly unto him: Go thy ways, said he, in all haste, for the Child is drowned. The good subject, was accustomed to hold the Superiors becks as Oracles. Wherefore, without other reply, he demands only his benediction of him: and having taken the same, ran violently to the danger, and that with so much speed, as that going on the waters dry foot, he took Placidus by the hair of his head, not being aware the while of the nature of the way he went on, until such time, as he had pulled him safe to the land. When returning into himself, and reflecting on what was past, his hair stood an end, and giving thanks to the highest God, led Placidus to the presence of S. Benet. here arose a noble contention of profound humility between the Master and disciple; while S. Benet ascribes the greatness of such a miracle unto the faith and promptness of Maurus, and Maurus attributes all to the merits and intercession of S. Benet. The youth himself, in part decides the controversy, affirming, that in arising aloft, it seemed to him, that he saw the habit of Father Abbot over him; whereby, he took it that he was delivered by him. But howsoever it passed, it is evident, the obedience of Maurus was worthy of eternal memory.   

Florentius a Priest, seeks to poison S. Benet, but is prevented. He practiseth also to corrupt his Disciples; and is lastly punished by the hand of God. Chap. 5.  
IN the mean time, the Followers and Devotees of S. Benet, do continually multiply and increase, esteeming themselves amidst the snares of this pilgrimage, very happy and secure, under the gui●…ing of such a Leader. But as Envy always spurns at virtue; a ●…ertaine Priest of that country, called Florentius, being of the number ●…f those who covet the fruits of human praises, and fly the pur●…hase of solid virtues, could by no means endure so much reputa●…ion, & so prosperous successes of S. Benet. This unfortunate wretch ●…eing stirred up and excited through blind passion, began first, with ●…uill words to detract from the merits, and actions of S. Benet, and ●…hen to hinder by all means possible, the concourse of people that went unto him. After which perceiving how he travailed in vain, ●…nd that, by how much he endeavoured to vilify, and depress him, ●…e was the more exalted by God, and reverenced of men; he suffered ●…imselfe at last to be led into the same very devilish plot, whereinto ●…hose former traitors of the Saint had been carried. True it is that whereas they hid the fraud under a cup of wine, this under a loaf ●…f bread. But as that was not able to deceive the eyes of the Man of God, so was this also revealed unto him. Because Florentius under ●…he show of charity having sent him in alms, a Loaf of bread cō●…empered with deadly poison, the holy man stuck not to receive it with thanks giving. But being soon certified, through divine power, of the wicked deceit, at the hour of refection, he threw it ●…owne to a Crow, which at that time was wont to come to him ●…o take her meat at his hands, & said to her: On behalf of our Lord ●…sus Christ, take you here this loaf of bread, & carry i●…to some place where it may not be touched of any person living. At which words ●…he Crow spreading her wings, and opening the mouth, began to ●…oure, with croaking, and showing a will and fear alike to touch ●…hat pestilent food: but the Man of God urging her to obey, with ●…onfidence took it up with her claws, and flew away with it, and ●…hen after some three hours' space, returned again to her wont ●…eate.  
At such ill demeanours as these, S. Benet was exceedingly sorry, ●…ot so much for his own sake, as for compassion of his adversary. ●…ut Florentius the while, being full of gall and obstinate in malice ●…nce he could not murder the body of the Master, endeavoured to ●…estroy the disciples souls. And among other things, he had the im●…udence to contrive in the very garden of the Monastery, and in the ●…ght of the Monks themselves, a lascivious dance of naked women. ●…t which spectacle, the Abbot, with reason fearing some notable disorder, determined to give wholly place to the fury of the 〈◊〉 and to abandon the Country and mansion there built up by hi●… self, with so great expenses. Setting then the affairs of the Co●…uents in order, and exhorting the Monks to persevere in the st●… of perfection, with some of his companions, he puts himself 〈◊〉 his journey, and through divine instinct, or rather through a cle●… voice which came to him from heaven, he travailed toward●… Castle, about some two days journey from thence, by name C●… with full purpose to announce the true light of the Gospel unto t●… Country people that in habited there, which miserably lay yet b●… in the darkness of Gentilism, and the shadow of death.  
Hardly was the servant of God, departed from Sublacum, wh●… as vengeance from heaven, appeared upon Florentius: because 〈◊〉 house, being otherwise safe and sound, the roof only of the roo●… where he than remained, falling down on a sudden, with a re●…dyles ruin, burst all the bones of his body, and for his soul, 〈◊〉 went to the tribunal of the eternal justice. The accident was 〈◊〉 denly diwlged, and one of the Monks, ran immediately in haste a●… the holy Abbot, to carry him the news, as he thought, very gl●… and welcome to him: but S. Benet, instead of rejoicing thereat s●… forth sighs unto heaven for that soul, & with severe words ga●… a sharp rebuke to the Monk, who therein had showed in himsel●… not so Christian a mind, as he ought. From thence, proceeding o●… his way, he arrived at last at the foresaid Castle, situated on the s●… of a steepy and high hill, in the top whereof, was a Temple seen amid the thickest of the woods, being dedicated to Apollo. Where S. Benet wanted not matter to work on, or what to encounter.  
But before he would enter into battle, he would seem 〈◊〉 prepare himself for that purpose, with especial care, by retiring him into some remote place: and there for forty days continually together, remains he in prayer, fastings, and vigils. After whi●… with the odour of so good a life, and with the efficacy of his preaching, being the fittest batteries to Faith; he sets himself, through divine favour, courageously to destroy paganism, and so broke the Idol, demolisheth the Altar, hews down the woods; & where before was the Oracle of the false God, he erects an Oratory to S. Martin, and in place of an Altar builds a Chapel unto S. john B●…tist, through whose intercession, obtaining always new graces, & offering up most pure and acceptable sacrifices to the Creator, he never left labouring to acquit, and discharge poor mortals from the ●…ruell servitude of the Devil.   

The Devil appears to S. Benet; He throws down a wall new built up, and kills one of ●…he Monks in the ruins thereof, who is restored to life again: with other illusions of the Devil. Chap. 6.  
THe ancient Tyrant, no longer able to endure to foresaid enterprises of S. Benet, besides the diverse difficultyes and impe●…iments which in vain he stirred against the messenger of Christ; ●…egan also to appear unto him, not through in imagination, or ●…reame, but with open vision, and with dreadful figures, casting ●…rth, by the mouth and eyes, infernal smoke, and flames of sul●…hure, and with a raging voice, howling, and lamenting in such ●…anner, as that the disciples, though they were not permitted to ●…ehold him, yet plainly might hear him to say, among other ●…ings; benedict, benedict: and while the Man of God, vouchsafed ●…ot to answer him, outrageously he added: Maledicte, and not Be●…dicte, what hast thou to do with me? Wherefore dost thou persecute me thus? ●…nd here with, fell a vomiting of most horrible blasphemies, and ●…enaces; whereof, though the Saint seemed to make but light ac●…ompt, yet the standers by even the while feared grievously.  
That which increased his fury, was a certain building begun ●…y the Monks for their habitation, which in process of time, ●…om mean beginnings, amounted after to the magnificence we ●…e at this present. Whereupon being incensed more and more ●…ith anger, he appeared one day to S. Benet, in his Cell, while ●…e Monks were a labouring, and fretting said openly to him, that ●…e was then going to work what mischief he could, both to the ●…bourers, & to the work in hand. Whereat the holy Father, sends ●…ddenly to advertise his disciples thereof, and to admonish them, 〈◊〉 retire themselues without delay: but the messenger arrived not so ●…one, but that the devil had already thrown down to ground, a ●…ery high wall, which they had built, and thereby crushed to pee●…a Monk underneath the ruins: in so much, as to show him to 〈◊〉 Benet, it was needful to gather the pieces, and to put them up 〈◊〉 a sack together: When the man of God, causing them to be laid ●…rth, where he was wont to make his prayer, and dismissing the ●…onkes, shut himself in the Cell, & prayed with such fervour unto God, as even at that hour he restored the young man all whole and sound again, and as able as the rest, to continue and go forward with the work interrupted.  
Nor did the malignant spirit only in weighty matters, th●… vent his choler; but even sometimes also in things, that were half ridiculous in themselves: as was that of a stone, of no great bigness, which being to be placed in the wall, he sets himself upon it, insomuch, as they did but labour in vain, to place it aright, being not able to stir it awhit, until such time, as the Man of God, in person, had given his benediction thereon. Whereat the devil, a●… he is wont, goes his ways, and the stone was suddenly lifted, & lightened, as it had been of wax only. After which, it seemed good unto all, to dig somewhat deep, & they found out an Idol of brass, which after some hours casting by chance into the kitchen, it seemed to send forth fire on all sides, as it would doubtless have burned up the room. This sight, put the Convent into a hurly-burly, all striving to run in with their buckets of water, and calling for help. At which noise of theirs, the admirable Abbot arriving, with one only cast of the eye, was presently aware of the illusion; and th●… bowing the head prays awhile, and bids the Monks, to make the sign of the Cross upon their eyes: which done, the flames immediately vanished, and so every one understood it to have been only a fantastical flame, and not true fire.  
Through these persecutions, and troubles, Lucifer did in fine effect no more, then to afford new occasions to S. Benet, to illustr●… the name of Christ, and to purchase to himself credit continually more and more, as well with the faithful, as gentils; and that so much the more, as to this so rare a grace of miracles, was added an extraordinary Gift of Prophecy, as by the following examples, may clearly be gathered.  
A secular man, but exceeding pious withal, was wont every year, to go from home, a good way off, to the Monastery; as w●… to take the benediction of the holy Father, as also to visit a Brother of his, whom there he had in religion. And to the end the voyage might be the more meritorious, he would make it on foot, and remain fasting, until his arrival unto the presence of S. B●…. Now it happened on a time, that another travailer kept him company on the way, who had brought along with him, good provision of victuals; and after they had gone thus a pretty way together while it grew somewhat late, the travailer invited him very friendly to eat a bit with him, and to refresh themselves, as well as they might. God forbid, Brother, said he, since my custom is, for to arrive fasting unto Father Abbot. With this answer as then, the inviter was quiet, but yet after a space again, he urged him afresh, that now it was full time of dinner. But the Man being resolved to keep abstinence, still denied him again a second time; so as the other was feign to comply with him.  
But not long after, behold a goodly meadow, with a limpid spring, presents itself to them, which opportunely invited them to recreate themselves; when he that carried the victuals, said: O what water! O what a pasture is this! O what a place to repose in awhile, and to take some repast, rest, and breath of our travail! The sun by this time was grown very forward on its way, the members weary, the sound of the Birds very sweet to the Ears, the flowers and herbs, as seeming to flatter the eyes; besides which many fair pretences failed not the sensuality, to excuse withal. What more? The devout pilgrim at last was overcome. But then at the evening, being come into the presence of the Man of God, & craving his benediction, as he was wont, the Saint stuck not very dexterously to upbraid him, with what had passed with him on the way, saying. How goes the matter brother? The wicked enemy who spoke to thee so, by the means of that Travayler there on the way, neither at the first, nor second time could move thee away whit, till at last, at the third he brought thee to his bent. The poor man hearing this, and acknowledging his great unconstancy, casts himself at his fear, full of tears, and confusion. A fair revelation surely: but yet is this that follows, no less pretty, and admirable, than it.   

The Gift of Prophecy, which S. Benet discovers by occasion of Totila, endeavouring to abuse him by a trick. And how he discovers, and chastizeth his Monks, through the same Gift. Chap. 7.  
TOtila the King of the Goats, having heard of the wonders of S. Benet, and measuring others manners by his own perfidious mind; determined with a subtle invention to inform himself better of the truth thereof. Travayling therefore to Mount Cassin, he stayed a little way off, & sent to certify the worthy Abbet, that he was now come to visit him: and being answered, he might come when he pleased, he caused a Favourite of his, by name Rigone, to be decked up with his Princely robes, and commanded him to be accompanied by his whole Court, and attended by three principal Barons, unto the presence of S. Benet, as if it had been the person of Totila himself; and gave good order beside, that no inkling of the fiction, might come to the convent. Rigone travailing with such Majesty, and so great a pomp, was hardly arrived at the Cell, but the Saint, began a far off to call unto him, with a loud voice: Lay away, my son, put off those things thou wearest so, for they are none of thine. At which words, the Barbarian, as strucken with thunder, fell suddenly down to the ground, and feared worse, for his great presumption, in abusing and mocking so great a Man. At which terror likewise, all fell humbly prostrate before him, & not daring to approach nearer, returned to the King, with pale countenances, and with faltering speech, related unto him how suddenly the deceit was discovered by the Man of God.  
Then Totila himself, went thither in person, with so much submission, and reverence withal, as that being come in the sight of S. Benet, who was sitting a far off, he casts himself presently on the ground; and howbeyt the Man of God, some twice, or thrice, said to him, Get up I pray; yet durst he not do it, until such time as S. Benet, with his own hands, went and lifted him up. And after this, in few words in private, he reprehended him shrewdly of his evil manners, and acquainted him beside, with what was like to succeed with him, saying: Thou dost much mischief, & many euil●… thou hast hitherto wrought, but now refrain from thy iniquities at last, & know thou shalt enter hereafter into Rome, thou shalt cross the Seas, nine years thou shalt reign, and dye on the tenth. With these news, Totila being exceedingly terrified, most humbly craving the intercession of the Servant of Christ, departed thence: and from that time afterwards, began to be less cru●…l and fierce. Not long after the same, he entered into Rome: from thence he sailed into Sicily, and being arrived unto the tenth year of his reign, through divine justice, came to lose both life and kingdom at once.  
The foresaid revelations of the Saint, and other the like, which for brevity sake we let pass, have happened with strangers only: While these others have succeeded, partly for amendment, & part●… for the consolation of his Monks.  
Two whereof, being once goneforth, about some work of Charity, the business held them so long, as the poor Monks were persuaded to eat in the house of a certain devout woman. Whereupon returning late to the Monastery, and craving the wont benediction of the Venerable Father; he suddenly demanded, where they had dined, and they answering confidently, in no place; he replied, why tell you me a lie in this manner? For you did enter into the house of such a woman; and did you not eat of such and such meats? And have not each of you drunk so often? They being convinced with these circumstances, and with each particular thereof, being full of confusion withal, cast themselves at his feet confessing the fault, and demanding pardon at his hands. And the good Father showed mercy to them, as knowing they would run no more into the like default.  
There was not far from the Monastery, a village inhabited by many, converted by S. Benet, among whom; were found some Women, consecrated to the divine worship, and the solicitous Pastor, being careful to conserve that flock, was wont often to send some one of his disciples thither, to make some spiritual exhortations to them. One of which, having ended his discourse with them, was persuaded through the entreaty of those devout Women, to accept a small present of linen cloth, at their hands, and so he puts it up in his bosom; but the Gift cost him full dear, because returning to the Monastery, he had of S. Benet a most bitter reprehension for it: for among other things, it was demanded of him, how crept that iniquity into his breast? when as he half besides himself, had quite forgot his fault, nor could well tell, wherefore he was so accused; when lo, the holy Abbot replies: Belike then, I was present with thee, when thou receivedst so that linen cloth of the Servants of God, and didst put in thy bosom? With this, at last the Monk came to acknowledge his fault, and with a great deal of contrition, taking it forth of his Cassock, threw it away to the ground.   

S. Benet discovers a temptation of Pride in the hart of one of his Monks: with a brief Relation of the life of S. Scholastica his Sister. Chap. 8.  
ON a time, in the evening, the man of God taking some little repast, a certain Monk stood holding him a candle, who in the world had been the Son of a certain Protector, which in those days was an Office of great dignity. Now while he waited in that manner upon him, he was half vanquished with a grievous temptation of Pride, saying within himself: Who is this here, that sitting at the Table, I should not only not sit besides him, but stand holding him the candle, and serve him as a Page? He had hardly given place in his soul to these suggestions, but that the Saint, with great vehemency of spirit, began to rouse him up, saying; Make the sign of the Cross on thy hart, Brother: what is that thou thinkst on? Make the sign of the Cross I say: and suddenly calling in others, he made them to take the candle out of his hand, and willed him to sit down at the table himself. He being afterwards demanded of the Monks apart, what was that which he was thinking of at that time, he ingenuously confessed, the assault of pride which he then had, and the formal words, he was then framing in himself. They all wondered the while, and were much astonished thereat. Nor can it easily be expressed, what a spur to perfection were these kind of discoveries, and fatherly admonitions of his, unto them. And thus S. Benet of purpose, used some acerbity with them, as knowing that medicines for the most, are the more wholesome, as they have more bitterness in them: whereupon the disciples of necessity must needs stand the more on their guard, & become more vigilant upon their defects, in beholding the master's eyes still so upon them, and always intentive, not only to what they did, but even likewise to what they thought.  
But as the divine Prelate, with such oracles as these, used to cause a great fear and solicitude in his subjects: so with others in its turn he would deal as sweetly, and give as much security and comfort. At such time then as Mount Cassin, and all the arable Land thereabout was oppressed with a great and extraordinary dearth, that sacred Convent also, what with the nourishments of those of the house, as with the alms which were distributed to strangers, was brought to such straits, as there remained no more, than five loaves of bread in the Monastery, & the Granary quite empty. Whereupon the Monks, but little acquainted with such manner of extremityes, were now so sad and constristate with it, as they could not choose but in words, & countenance, bewray their pusillanimity. The man of God then being aware thereof, very modestly reprehended such diffidence in them; & after that afforded them great hopes notwithstanding, affirming that though they had but small prouisi●…n for that day, yet should they have the next day following a great ●…oundance. Nor failed he in his promises, since on the very next day were found at the Gate 100 bushels of meal in sacks, without knowing ever by what way or means Almighty God had sent them thither: whereby, the Servant of Christ, besides the help and consolation they felt therein, had likewise occasion to di●…ate their hearts, and to trust in the divine Goodness, and in their greater scarcity not to doubt of relief any more.  
The news also of the happy passage of S. Scholastica out of this ●…yfe, gave them extraordinary contentment. This same was the na●…ural Sister of S. Benet, & wholly dedicated to the divine service from 〈◊〉 child. Who being of riper age was wont every year to visit her Brother, and to receive spiritual instructions from him, who in cō●…any of some disciples of his, would go forth to meet with her som●…ymes, at a certain Grange of the Convent. Now in their last vi●…it, there happened a thing of great astonishment; which was this, ●…hat they having passed over a whole day together in sweet and devout discourses, and then after, in the evening, having given ●…ome refection to their body, S. Benet being about to take his leave of ●…er to return to his Cell again; the holy Virgin, being then more taken with his sweet conceypts, and discourses then ever; began to entreat him, with the greatest instance that might be, he would please to stay with her, and there pass away that night in such discourses, and particularly in treating of the future life, and of the glory of Paradise. At which request, S. Benet being angry, as it were, severely answered: What say you Sister? And know you not, that by no means, it is lawful for me to lie out of the Monastery? And thereupon being ready to arise, and go his ways, Scholastica obtaining yet some delay, and grasping her hands upon the table, put her head thereon, & pouring forth a flood of tears, made secretly her prayer to God. A strange thing! the Heavens before being so clear, as no cloud appeared in the skies, on the sudden, in the lifting up of her head, there followed such thunder, & hideous noise thereupon in the air, & such a flood of rain withal, as it was impossible for S. Benet, and his companions, to put forth of doors that night.  
Then the venerable Abbot, perceiving himself to be thus laid up as it were, being full of sorrow for it: God forgive thee Sister (said he) what hast thou done? When she answered; I entreated you, Sir, and you would not hear me, and I prayed to my God, and he hath vouchsafed to hear me: now then go forth if you can, and leaving me, return to your Cell. In the mean while, the storm s●… increased, as the holy old man was enforced to remain there, against his will, for to satisfy the desire of the thirsty virgin to hea●… the word of God. The morning being come, she urged no more, but taking her leave of S. Benet, he returned to the Convent, & aft●… three days, remaining in a closet of his chamber, and lifting up 〈◊〉 eyes, beholds the blessed spirit of his said Sister, to go forth of her body, in form of a dove, & thence to fly unto heaven. For which, he first gave due thanks to God, with psalms, and hymns, and then like wise acquainted the Monks therewith, to their extreme joy, & so sent them without delay to fetch the sacred corpse, & to carry i●… into the Church, where he caused it to be laid in the Sepulchre, which already he had prepared for himself, to the end that as their minds had been always united in life; so their spoils after death might not seem to be severed and disjoined. This same was surely a notable vision, and full both of jubilee and wonder. But yet w●… that other, more strange and admirable, which he had in the Monastery of the Abbot Seruandus, not far from Mount Cassin.   

A Notable vision of S. Benet, together with Seruandus Abbot: with di●… other admirable things. Chap. 9  
SEruandus was a person of a great spirit, and very learned withal, and as he often visited S. Benet, to confer with him about matters of the divine service; so S. Benet mutually, from time to time, would repair to him: & one day among others, after they had talked a pretty while together of God, thirsting after the heavenly country, whither as yet they could not arrive; the hour of rest being come, S. Benet retires himself unto the upper Chambers in a tower where he then lodged, and Seruandus rested in another beneath; & right over against the said tower the Monks lodged in a great house. Now S. Benet arising by night, according to his manner, some while before the others to contemplate, and treat with God, standing at the window, and looking up to Heavenwards, espies a sudden light to illuminate the air, with so great a splendour, 〈◊〉 it far surpassed the brightness of the day itself. In which speculation of his, happened an incredible thing, if the Saint himself had ●…ot reported the same, which was this: That the whole world was ●…epresented to his sight, as gathered together through, divine power, ●…der a beam, as it were of the Sun, And while he fixeth his eyes 〈◊〉 the purest light; he sees also, by an inexplicable way, the soul ●…f the blessed Germanus Bishop of Capua, to be conveyed to Hea●…en, by the Angels, in a Globe of fire.  
Then S. Benet, that he might have some companion of so glo●…ous, and adnirable a spectacle, with a voice, as loud as he could ●…alled the Abbot Seruandus to him, some twice or thrice: who being waked, and troubled with the noise, made extraordinary haste to ●…et up to him; but yet came but to a piece only of that great light. Howsoever, he was much astonished thereat, & so much the more ●…hen he understood, what first his holy Guest had seen. And how●…eyt, the matter was such, as there could be no doubt made of any ●…se imagination therein, yet for the greater evidence, it seemed not ●…isse to send that night, a grave and pious Monk, by name The●…dosius, unto the City of Capua itself, to understand what was be●…ome of the holy Bishop. And in effect it was found, that he was ●…ead indeed; and informing himself more punctually of the matter ●…e was certified, his passage was just at that hour, or rather in ●…at very moment, wherein the man of God, had seen him to as●…end to eternal glory.  
The blessed Gregory the Great, relates other visions, and pro●…hesyes of him; which to declare at length, would seem a super●…uous thing, and far from our purpose: and much longer would 〈◊〉 be, to unfold one by one, all the other marvelous works, which 〈◊〉 diverse subjects are recounted of him. While once he lamented & ●…oretold a long time before, the destruction of Mount Cassin, which ●…llowed through the incursion of the Lombard's, and again of the ●…ine of Rome, not by the hand of the armed Barbarians, but through Earthquakes, winds, thunders, & horrible tempests from Heaven; 〈◊〉 appeared to some Monks in sleep, who were sent to Terracina, ●…o set up a Convent there, and gave them the whole model, and ●…rder of the building. He threatened excommunication to two Re●…igious women of a naughty and slanderous tongue, if they amen●…ed not the same, and after the menace given, without more ado ●…e effect followed, since dying in that vice, and buried in the Church, they were seen to go forth, as often as Mass was celebrated there: nor ever found any rest until such time, as the Man of God, with his own hand, had given an host to the Priest to offer for them.  
A certain young Monk, going forth of the Monastery, witho●… leave, to see his Father and Mother, was suddenly at his arrival thither fallen dead in the house; and there was no means to keep the body in the Sepulchre, until such time, as S. Benet, had caused a consecrated host, to be put on his breast; when the earth being so pacified, as it were, with the same, retained him still still, With another Monk being fickle and unconstant, and who with great importunity had obtained leave to go forth of Religion, ●…e so wrought with his prayers, as that going forth of the Monastery, he was assailed by a dragon with open mouth; with which terror he calling for help, had the grace to return into his Cell again, where gathering his wits together, he persisted always after very found in his Vocation.  
A child being covered all over with leprosy, insomuch as the hair fell off his head, and his skin all swollen and puffed up, being brought into the presence of the Saint, was suddenly cured. Through prayer he got likewise a good sum of money for a ma●… that was shrewedly vexed by his Creditor; and that enough, not only to satisfy and defray the debt, but even also to live, and ma●…tayne himself withal afterwad.  
In the time of the dearth aforesaid, he ordained that a little oil which remained in the Dispense, should be given to Agapitus, 〈◊〉 subdeacon, who had demanded some of him: and knowing the Dispensier had not executed his order, he commanded the vessel which was of glass, should be thrown out of the window, which was done; and howbeyt the place beneath was all very rugged, and full of the sharpest stones, yet remained the vessel as entire, as it had fallen upon soft feathers. When causing it to be presently given to Agapitus, he puts himself with the Monks in to prayer over another vessel which was empty, & covered; and it was not long ere it was full of oil, insomuch as it heaved up the cover withal, & tan over on the ground. here with the Saint made an end of his prayer, and the flowing liquor ceased. Whereby the disobedience, & infidelity of that Monk, became justly reprehended.  
Another old Monk, in whom the devil was entered, and whom he cruelly tormented; a secular man being poisoned by his enemy; a Country swayn's, being miserably beaten, and tied with cords by a Soldier of Totila, were all quite delivered. The first, with a light stroke; the second with a simple touch, the third only with a glance of S. Benet's eye.  
Another country man, with much faith, and a great deal of tears, laying his dead child at the gates of the Monastery, had him again restored by the Saint alive and lusty. The like effects above nature wrought, through divine power, by means of S. Benet, are worthily celebrated by Writers. But I for my part, do make a far greater reckoning of the burning zeal, which he had of the glory of God, and of the eternal salvation of Men, then of all these: in regard that the virtue of miracles, and other such like gifts of Heaven, are seen also sometimes to be found in the reprobate; while Charity is it that makes us grateful, and acceptacle to the divine Majesty.   

S. Benet having founded many Conuents, and given a Rule to his Monk●…, knowing the time of his death before hand, made a most blessed End. Chap. 10.  
SAint Benet, as we have said above, was no sooner taken out of the cave, through divine providence (where for three years continually together, so exposed to the injuries of the air, incommodityes of the body, and temptations of the enemy, he had exercised a very sharp and strict penance) but that with all his power he attended to the reducing of mortals, according to the capacity of each one, partly to the precepts, and partly to the counsels of Christ. Nor being content with the founding of many houses of Monks well ordered in the same Country, he went in person, with a few soldiers of his, to assail the Idolatry of Mount Cassin, and to chase away the devil from those old lodgings & ancient holds of his. Nor there only by himself, and others, did he fortify & establish whatsoever he had gained to God: but likewise sent very choice Captains into diverse and remote provinces, to promote & conserve the Catholic Faith. Moreover, though he left good orders & rules of life to the Conuents there which from time to time he had founded: yet nevertheless he wrote afterwards of purpose rules full of wisdom and equity for the whole universal Religion, which being published to the world, were, and are continually of    

THE LIFE OF S. STEPHEN THE first King of Hungary.  

Ghiesa Prince of Hungary, endeavouring the conversion of that Country, sees a comfortable vision to that purpose; and entertains S. Adalbert coming thither to that end. Chap. 1.  
OF all all the barbarous nations, which at diverse times, have through divine justice, concurred to the ruin of the Roman greatness, were (as it is well known) the Huns: who having left the in most parts of Scythia, or Tartary rather; have more than once, gone forth, and finally entered into Pannonia, and thence driving out the Lombard's (for what occasion, it is not certainly known) have been called by the new name of Hungars. From which time, with a native fierceness and rapacity, they have not ceased, to molest the Church of God; being given wholly to the impure worship of Idols, and rather guiding themselves, with unbridled wills, then with laws or decrees, under the heads which sucessively they made choice of. Of these heads, Gheisa was the fourth, who though cruel and severe by nature; yet never the less, either by instinct of reason, or through the noise which ran every where of Christian Religion, becoming more temperate, & 〈◊〉 ou●… to have a distinctes knowledge of the same Religion; prooured of purpose to make peace with all the neighbour Provinces about him, and with public Proclamation, gave not only, secu●…e passage to as many Christians, as would enter into Hungary, but ordained further that they might all every where be cheerfully received, and benignly entreated: & particularly extending humanity towards the Clerks. and Religious, he began to admit them into his sight without difficulty, & with attention to listen to what they seemed to propose. In so much as what with the example of their life, and the efficacy of the divine word, and the power of the heavenly rays, and the excellent disposition of Gheisa himself; came the wholesome seed of the gospel, by little and little to take root, and to bud in his breast. And in short time, the matter went so fair, as that he, not only with a good part of hi●… familiars, took the water of holy Baptism, but likewise made a full purpose, to bring as many as were under his government, to the same faith.  
To which effect, according to the instructions of the servants of God; he designed missions of preachers, building of Churches, foundations of Parishes and Bishoprickes: when on a night, there appeared to him sleep, a young man of more than human beauty who said to him: God save thee, O elect of Christ; Leave of these plots of thine, for they are not to be perfected by thee, who hast thy hands too much embrued in blood; but thou shalt have a Son, who through the divine will, shall put the things in execution which now thou proiectst in mind; and he shall be a King, and be of the number of those, whom God hath predestinated, first to a temporal crown, and then likewise to an eternal. In the mean while, shall come to thee a perfonage, with spiritual embassies. See thou receive him honourably, and have him in much veneration, and give thou full credit, and perfect obedience to his advices, and exhortations.  
Gheisa, being astonished at this vision, and considering the same with himself, made his Domestics acquainted therewith, and being humbly prostrate, with infinite thanks, and abondance of tears, recommended himself and his states, together with the son he was to have, to the care and protection of him, that never sleeps, nor shuts his eyes. After which, remaining in much suspense of mind, about the aforesaid Ambassador; behold the news, that S. Adalbert, Bishop as then of Prage (which came afterwards to be the Metropolis of Bohemia) was coming to him, to proc●… the conversion, & salvation of souls. This news was of great consolation to those Neophites; when without delay, the Prince, with all the Court, went to meet with the Man of God, and receiving him with all honour, showed himself most prompt and ready to an entire and fillall obedience.  
This Prelate, was of great fame, & of the illustrious blood of Bohemia, & of science no less than zeal, & as one who having twice in person, visited the Mother of all Churches, and humbly adored the Bishop of Rome, had among other emprovements from thence sucked forth the pure milk of Apostolical doctrine, and further obtained a most ample leave, in case his Bohemians should obstinately resist the Gospel, to pass into any country of the Infidels, to announce the kingdom of Heaven. It cannot be then explicated, while he saw through the goodness of God, so great a gate set open to him, unto the Hungars, with how much fervour, and with what industry, he suddenly applied himself to all the ordinary means, requisite to the eternal salvation of his Neighbours; the secular Power for in part, concurring likewise to the same, as hath been said; the which every one sees, of what moment it is, for the happy progress of the Ecclesiastical.   

S. Stephen appears in sleep to Saroltha the Princess, delivered afterwards of a Son, by name Stephen; to whom his Father in his life ty●… surrenders his Kingdom. Chap. 2.  
IN those days, Saroltha the wife of Geisa, being now somewhat near to her childbirth, for the greater confirmation of the heavenly promises; there appeared to her in sleep, even he, who had the glory to be the first that shed his blood for jesus Christ, in the habit of a Levit, & called to her with a sweet countenance, saying: Be of good cheer, Saroltha, and know for certain, thou shalt have a Son, who shall bring into thy house, the title and crown of a King, and as soon as he is borne, see thou impose my name upon him at the sacred Font. At these words, full of wonder and consolation, the Woman demands of the Saint, who he was, and how he was called? whereto having answered, that he was S. Step●… the Protomartyr, without any more, he vanished away. This happened about the year of our Lord 969. in the City of Strigonium, where within a few days after, the child was very happily borne: & being baptised, with due rites in the laver of water, by the hands of S. Adalbert, according to the precept of the vision & Crown that attended him, had the glorious name of Stephen imposed on him.  
There lived as then, in those parts, an Italian Knight, thirst out of his Country by Civil wars, by name Theodatus Sanseverinus, who by nobility of blood, and much more, through his valour, & dexterity, was risen to a high degree, both of reputation, & favour with Geisa. This was a wise, & discreet Baron, and the Prince's Godfather at his entrance into the Christian warfare, and then after, his Master and Tutor in behaviour: and therefore after the Italian manner, with a childish simplicity holding him to be his Father, he would salute him by the name of Tara; & Theodatus in memory of so pleasant a word, founded a town & Monastery of Religious men hard by Danubius, which being afterwards increased by the great Mathias Coruinus, with stately buildings, gardens, lakes, & fishponds, even to this present day, is called still by the name of Tara.  
And as the pious child, was very diligently brought up by San●…euerinus in princely manners; so in the elements of the Christian faith and in those virtues, which are most grateful to the eyes of God, he was instructed, with great care by S. Adalbert, in such sort, as that hardly was he weaned from the beast, but he brought forth the name of jesus before that of bread; and in his childhood, together with the Grammar, he became very expert in the Catechism; and being now entered into his adolescency, with his acts, gave not only a noble example of Christian piery, but even also in public meetings, he would ever speak with marvellous efficacy, of the deformity of vice, of the beauty of virtue, of the fear of God, of humility, of charity, and of all justice: seeking by all means possible, to mollify the native fierceness of the Hungars, and to reduce them, through di●…ine assistance, unto a feeling of humanity; and to the use of right reason. And was so inflamed with the love of equity, and amendment of the people, that as occasions happened, he would not stick ●…o accuse, and sometimes also to reprehend, in convenient manner his very Father himself, yea and to supply now and then at his request, with the singular approbation of all, the principal cares, in gi●…ing audience, dispatching of public and private businesses, in ●…dmitting of the Ambassadors of Princes, & giving them answers, with all satisfaction, that might be.  
So that Geisa, being now weary with travails, and worn out with years, acknowledging, with his infinite contentment, very able & sufficient qualities in the young man, for an ample government, wished nothing more, then to discharge himself of the weight and to lay the burden on his shoulders, and forth with to behold him with his eyes, invested in the throne, which he well deserved. And to that end having called a general diet, he had no great difficulty, to persuade the States, to dispose themselves to honour his son before hand, by substituting him in his place, being now already spent, and wholly unable, admitting him to be their lawful Prince and Lord, and affording him all prompt subjection, and assured oath of fidelity. At so earnest exhortations, and just request of Geisa, the mind of the multitude, remained so inflamed, as that without delay, in the eyes of the old man (which even for joy were pouring forth tears) Stephen was with great applause, proclaimed not Duke, or Vayvod, but lawful King & on the shoulders of the great men, lifted up to the highest throne, and thence conveyed, with the same applause, to the Soldiers tents.  
here had he likewise, the title of King afforded him, with the greatest veneration, and consent of all, that possible might be. For which benefit, Geisa showing himself to be no whit ungratful, with ample donaryes, with taking away the old aggreevances, with seattering of money to the people, and words of much courtesy, continually obliged to him, & his son more & more the hearts of men, and (that which more imports) was not behind to acknowledge the divine goodness, with solemn sacrifice, & extraordinary yielding of thanks. Through which, in the space of a few days being oppressed with age, & with a great Catarh, he died in the year of our Lord 997. and the new King, as he had always borne due reverence in life to so worthy & well deserving a Father, so ceased he not to perform the same, after his death, with devout prayers, and most sumptuous exequyes.   

King Stephen makes peace with his Neighbours, and seeks to pacify all at home, but is resisted by one Cupa a Rebel, whom he labours to suppress. Chap. 3.  
IN the mean time, Saint Stephen applying himself with more liberty, and exacter diligence to the government, the first thing he sought for, was to have the glory of God for his final end, in all his actions, esteeming him ever to be no less a Censor and severe judge, than a benign Father, and bountiful rewarder. And that by so much the more, as he understood of what importance, the Example of a Prince was, as well to the good direction, as the ill government, and total ruin of his people. And not to be at the same time distracted with internal and external cares and molestations, and with the thoughts both of peace & war at once, he earnestly laboured in the reestablishing of friendship, and the Capitulations already concluded by his Father with his neighbours, as well by Embassies, as letters, cutting off by this means likewise all hope of foreign succours to any malcontent with the present State, or who should othe●…ise be any ways desirous of novelty. And forasmuch, as he well understood, how the nerves, and sinews of empire and rule do principally consist in justice, as well towards God as to mortals, he trusting but little in his own knowledge, would ordinarily recurre partly to the documents of divine scriptures, wherein day and night, he made himself very conversant, and partly to the counsel of prudent and learned men, & such as feared God, but especially of S. Adalbert; who now perceiving, through divine clemency, and the valour of S. Stephen, how well matters had proceeded in Hungary, determined to pass over into other country's more remote, and which seemed to stand in more need of the light.  
Taking then his leave of the King, though given with a very ill will; he went his ways with two choice companions, and no more, towards Prussia, where till that time had arrived no knowledge of the Gospel. here while he travails, to deliver the Pagans from the servitude of the devil, & from their ancient warlique exercises, fierce customs of Barriers, Tourneaments, and the like, unto the knowledge of the true God, and love of Christian meekness; being taken by that wicked nation, and tied to a stake on the top of a high and steepy hill, & so transfixed with seven lances, was added to the merit of his preaching, the palm of a glorious martyrdom. In this interim, S. Stephen ceased not also to how down the woods, and to cultivate the deserts of that Gentility; being resolved, either to reduce all his subjects, unto the knowledge of the Creator, or in the enterprise, to part with his Kingdom, and life at once.  
And for that a good part of that people being brought to be Christians, rather to please the Prince, and for terren ends and designs of theirs, then through any deliberate consent, & stable will; and many others, by no means would seem to admit of such manner of doctrine, S. Stephen was enforced against his will, to use now & then, somewhat bitter, and biting remedies, whereby he came to exasperate some Nobles in such sort, as that shaking off the yo●…e of subjection, partly despising the simplicity, and partly hating the severity of the evangelical discipline, they rose up in arms against him, and in the lower Hungary began to waste, rob, and destroy the devout places, and persons there, and such as were found to be most obedient to the name of Christ, and of S. Stephen.  
The Baron of Singia, by name Cupa, was the head and Captain of the Seditious; a man of exceeding power, and greatly followed of many, who a good while since, having by indirect ways, aspired to the Kingdom, now taking occasion from these noveltyes, went raising up the people in such sort, as that what with large promises, what with subtle calumnies against the persons of S. Stephen, and Gheisa the Father, and with horrible blasphemies against the Religion brought in of new, as enemy to the Gods, and of their ancient ceremonies and institutes, as also of the glory of the Hungarian name, so always maintained and augmented, not by the way of books, or of slouthlull ease, but with hardy enterprises, and expeditions of arms, being not content with harrying the Champenies, boroughs, and villages; with in a few days he lifts up his thorns, to the assaulting even of the walled towns, nor doubts he awhit to the greater despite, and contempt of the holy King, to besiege the town of Vesprinio itself, being a City very especially beloved, and favoured of him. Who at the first tidings of the rebellion, having tried with all possible means, to temper the mind of Cupa, to win the people, and to quiet the tumults, at last after many, and earnest intreatyes, gathering a full and competent army, under the ensig●…es of S. Martin, the glory of the Hungars, and of S. George that renowned Martyr, and marching along towards his Enemy, he entrenches himself in Cupa his sight, along the river of Gara.   

Saint Stephen makes Vencellinus his Lieutenant General, and gives battle to Cupa, who is stain. And the Rebels being defeated, the King ordains Bishoprickes, Parishes, and Monasteryes. Chap. 4.  
SAint Stephen, among other personages of quality, had three noble Alman Lords with him, very zealous Christians, and exceeding expert in feats of Arms, who from the first news of the pious inclination of Ghiesa, had volunta●…ily put themselves into his service, to help and promote the holy Gospel, to their utmost power. One of these, by name Vencellinus, was by S. Stephen declared Lieutenant General of his forces; & between the other two Hun●…e and Pasna, was the Cavalry, or horse divided; while the charge of the Fantery, or foot, were distributed to excellent Colonel's and Captains: and as soon as the Soldiers had taken a little breath, and repose, S. Stephen was not slack, with great courage, and good order, to offer battle to the perfidious Enemy. Nor was Cupa himself awhit behind to go forth to meet him, with great vehemency, and with equal hope of victory. The encounter endured many hours, not without a great slaughter between them, & still with uncertain and doubtful event: the King himself went here and there very manfully up and down the troops, encouraging the doubtful, inciting the valiant, heartening the cowards, and very readily sending still succour where greater necessity appeared; and above all, never ceased he to invoke the divine a●…nce, in a cause 〈◊〉 just: and his prayers were not cast into the winds, because, that Vencellinus, who had the right wing in charge, perceiving himself to be secretly renforced, as it were, with new breath; after he had ●…ought a good while, with his eye upon the disloyal Capa, finally knew him, and went suddenly to meet him, & while they both were buckling together, hand to hand, the King perceiving the encounter, with a good number of choice horse made ●…ast to succour him, when approaching nearer, he sees Vencellinus having now vnho●…sed his enemy, to be cutting of his head with his own hands; the which to the great joy of the Christians, was put on the point of a spear, and being carried here and there, did give great terror to the Rebels, for without more ado, they fell into rout, and direct flight: while our men pursued them with hot executions, and with the same violence entering into the enemy's trenches, never gave over from cutting in pieces, as many as they found therein, until S. Stephen, who grieved at the effusion of so much blood, caused the retrayt to be founded.  
The Captives as guilty of high treason, escaped not without convenient punishment: one quarter of Capas body, in terror of the rest, was affixed on the gate of Vesprinio; another of Strigonium; the third at Gaverino; and the fourth, at Alba julia, the principal City of Transiluania. And if S. Stephen in chastizing had used justice, he showed it no less, in largely rewarding his Captains, and soldiers, according to the dignity and deportement of each one: but his principal study was, amidst such prosperous events, to shun vainglory, and to show forth that piety and gratitude, which he owed to the Author of all good, and the Court of Heaven. And to that end, devout processions being made, with solemn masses, he began from the very foundations a magnificent Temple to S. Martin his Protector, in a scite, which is called the holy Hill; where is said, the great Servant of God, was wont to remain in contemplation, for the little time he abode in that Country: and besides the applying of the third part of the spoils to the fabric, he assigned for all the Priests that should inhabit there, the whole Tithes of corn, wine, & of cattle; and moreover of the children themselves of the inhabitants of the City and territory of Simigia. And the rest of the goods which he might well have put into the fiscal, he deputed part to the maintenance of the poor, & part to the increase of the divine worship. And being inflamed with new fervour of charity, he never left craving of the Highest, at all hours, & sometimes in sackcloth & ashes, the grace to see before his death, all Hungary converted unto the faith, as forseing for certain, that being so, it should come to be (as it fell out afterwards) a perpetual, and strong bull work for the Church of Christ, against the violence of the Barbarians.  
Many difficultyes seemed to cross this pious desire of his, but none greater, than the want of sufficient Cathechists, & Preachers; while the number of them who had come to those parts, in the time of Geisa, through diverse accidents, was much diminished. Whereupon in imitation of his Father, with ample patents, and very liberal offers, he sent to all the religious Orders of Christendom, to invite the good, and learned unto him: In somuch, as many Monks, and Priests repaired thither, partly moved at so honest a request, and partly also of their proper will. Among which, was one Astricus a Benedictin Abbot, called Anastasius by another name, with some disciples of his, who in the lower Hungary, received some wounds for Christ. From Polony, resorted two famous Hermits, Andrew and Benet; whereof the one was famous for miracles, the other honoured with sacred martyrdom. By means of these, & others, who came to that work; the King attended to instruct the Gentiles in the principles, and manners truly Christian; alluring them with sweetness of words and works, and likewise when need required, constraining them by main force, to forsake the impious worship of the Idols. Nor ever ceased he from the work until such time, as he had purged all those lands of their profane rites, and abominable filth of the Devils. And to the end, that all might proceed with due form, and that the fruit of these labours, might be durable, he takes in hand, with mature consideration, & with the counsel of the wise, to ordain in fit places, with sufficient rents, Parochial, and Collegiate Churches, & diverse Conuents of Monks; and divided the Kingdom itself into ten Bishoprickes, declaring the City of Strigonium the Mother of them all, & choosing Prelates of honourable fame for each one, and such as were apt, with the word to feed the flock, and to lead them with good works.   

King Stephen sends to Rome an Ambassador, to submit himself, and his Kingdom to the Sea Apostolic: & marries with Gis●…a, of the house of Bavary. Chap. 5.  
THe rumour and applause of these so heroical actions of S. Stephen, immediately ran through all Europe; and there was none who understood the noble proceedings, and spiritual conquests of the new King, that deemed him not worthy of eternal praise, and royal Majesty. Yet he alone could not satisfy himself, nor ever repute that Hierarchy Canonical, or the Title acceptable to God unless the free assent, and full confirmation of the Pope were added thereunto, who in those days was Benedictus VIII. Some four years then, after the death of Geisa, the Rebels for the most being suppressed, the public affairs put in good order, and the faith dilated now as far as Danubius, he sent Ambassador to the City of Rome, with a goodly and decent pomp the aforesaid Anastasius, by him named already Bishop of Co●…otz: who after kissing of the feet, and tender of obedience, and a full relation of what had happened in Hungary in these latter years, was humbly to beseech his Holy●… for three things. First, that he would deign to bless, and admit that new Christianity into the my sticall body of the faithful. The second, to ratify, with his supreme power, what S. Stephen had all ready disposed, about the Bishopriques, & Metropolis. The third, to approve, and declare valid the name of King, wherewith he had been voluntarily honoured by his subjects; to the end, that the judgement of the vicar of Christ concurring thereunto, he might, with so much the greater authority, seem to promote the divine service; whereto only had all his industryes, thoughts, and designs their whole scope.  
The Pope at so noble an Embassage, and joyful tidings, felt extraordinary consolation in himself, nor ever ceased from praising God for the happy increase of the Catholic Church, especially there having been that year likewise, Polony united thereto, under the Duke Mischa, and thither come from thence in like manner an Embassage, to acknowledge the chief Sea, and to yield due obedience to his Holiness: wherefore very freely with the general consent of the sacred College, it pleased his Holiness to give full satisfaction to the petitions of S. Stephen, & to accept the Hungars into the flock of Christ. And for royal Ensigns (being a thing that seemed most just to all) he made him a gift of a Crown of gold, of great price, and of excellent workmanship: and more over sent him a Cross, to be carried before him in public, in sign of the Apostleship, and adorning the presents, with these very words: I am, said he, an Apostolic man, but he may worthily be called the Apostle of God, since through his means, Christ hath gained so great a multitude: and therefore, do we remit also to this good King, the care of reducing those Churches to better for me, with Parishes and Dioceses.  
In this manner, Anastasius with a happy expedition, having now obtained what he would, returned again very glad into Hungary. In whose approach to Strigonium he was met by S. Stephen forth of the territory there, with a great multitude of the Clergy, & Nobility. Then were the Apostolical Briefs read, and the Crown and Cross presented; which things S. Stephen received, not only with extreme joy, but also with much veneration, kneeling himself, among other things, in public, at each mention which was made of the holy Father, to excite, with his example his subjects to a great esteem and reverence due to the Roman Sea. Then being anointed, consecrated, and crowned, with solemn ceremonies & triumphs, by the Archbishop, he attended with more seriousness than ever, to take away the impediments quite from the course of the Gospel, maintaining the external peace with a good neighbourhood, and loving offices, and the internal, with Edicts, & Laws full of justice, and equity.  
And forasmuch, as to conserve the state, and life of the Prince, and to restrain the pride and animosity of the more stubborn subjects, it is of no light regard besides the good intelligence of neighbour, Potentats, to have like wise some number of Children, he determined, with the judgement of his more trusty and wise consellors, not to differre his marriage any longer, especially there offering itself, the most noble condition of Gisla, of the illustrious blood Bavary and Sister of Henry the second being he that coming into Italy and crowned by the Pope, to his immortal praise had chased away the Saracens, and their favourits from Gapua; and those neighbour countries. The Spquse then, was decently conducted to the Husband and as that Sacrament was celebrated with all the circumstances, and respects due unto Christian Princes so is it no wonder, the match succeeded to be one of the most blessed, which for many years have flourished since in the world. Into that royal house never entered any vain pomps, no importune iealousyes, no false suspicions, nor bitter contentions; while the happy couple strived not between themselves but in charity vn●…aigned, & in the continual study of the divine glory. For which end having obtained (as we have said) confirmation from Rome, of the Strigonian Matropolis, and of the Seas subordinat thereunto to eschew all occasion of strifes, he clearly determined and limited the confines of each; & the same did he also, to divers Abbacyes, founded by him.   

Saint Stephen and his Queen build many Monasteryes. His piety 〈◊〉 to all; and the marvelous elevation of his in prayer. Chap. 6.  
IT cannot easily be expressed what solicitude, and magnificence Saint Stephen always showed in sacred buildings. He built a marvelous goodly Temple in Alba-regalis, to the most Blessed Virgin (to whom he was singularly devoted, and so would he likewise have all those under him, and to keep the vigils of all her Feasts, and especially of the Assumption) providing it with most ample privileges, of large rents, and sumptuous furnitures, of vessels both of silver, and gold, beset with jewels, and so finely wrought, as the metal though of exceeding price, was the least part of the value thereof. In the ancient Buda, called Sicambria of old, he erected a most noble Temple to the glorious Apostles S. Peter & S. Paul, having for that end, with great rewards, caused certain Architects to come from Greece, and as many artificers, as he could procure to come thither. And to the end, the Hungars might converse more freely in Rome, and continue always firm in devotion to the chief Bishop; he dedicated that gallant Temple of Mont Celius there, to S. Stephen the Protomartyr, without sparing any cost, which for the figure is commonly called the Rotundo, and there richly founded withal a College of twelve Priests: and built in the Vatican, & sufficiently provided an Inn, for a welcome receptacle of those of his nation, who should go to visit the Princes of the Apostles. And extending his liberality also into Thraci●…, and Soria, he erected in Constantinople, a holy place very stately and goodly to behold; and a convent of Religious in Jerusalem, that each day at the holy Sepulchre, sacrifices might be offered for the public good.  
These, and other very pious places, are recounted to be built by that holy King. And the Queen Gi●…a also, besides the participation she had with his merits, in applauding her husband in all things, & concurring thereto as much as she might, would needs build likewise at her proper assignments, and adorn at all points, the Church of Vesprinio, and there maintain at her own costs, a good number of Priests to say divine service. And if such were the greatness of mind of these two happy Princes, and continual profusion of expenses, in material walls, and other dumb works; every one may easily guess, how much their benignity was, and how great their tenderness to men, created for the heavenly country, and oppressed and afflicted in this banishment of theirs, through various necessities & miseries. It is reported of S. Stephen, that there never came any pilgrim to him, whom he lodged not, and after dismissed with a viatique. He had an extraordinary care of the sick, he would send them, besides daily relief, now and then some loving present or other, and immediately cured some of those, whom he but commanded to arise in the name of God. By night, with a pleasing, and cheerful countenance, he would put himself, to wash the feet of most abject people, and then at last bestow money upon them. He would further in the night go alone unknown, to visit the Hospitals of the poor with his full purse.  
And it happened on a time, that some of them, either through greediness of the present object, or for some other unjust occasion, meeting with the pious benefactor, most furious and ungrateful as they were, fell a pulling of his beard; with which fact of theirs notwithstanding he was nothing moved, but passing from thence, to the Church of the Mother of God, gave her thanks, with all his hart, for that through her intercession, our Lord had vouchsafed him, in some manner, to make him partaker of the most unworthy outrages, villainies, and injuries done unto him. And from thenceforth, more earnestly pursued he to give large alms, to all sorts of miserable, and calamitous people as well in public, as in secret, with his own hands, and by means of his familiars, and especially of the blessed Gunther of Bohemia, an Hermit.  
And as often, as this Gunther the man of God, did come from his Country, to visit him; King Stephen would put all the provisions & store of the palace into his hands; when the Hermit distributing what he found, unto widows, Orphans, strangers, and beggars, would soon leave the Royal Palace void and destitute of all things. Whereat Saint Stephen would take very great contentment; feeling himself by such acts of charity, towards his neighbour continually inflamed, more and more in the love of Christ, and to the sweet contemplation of invisible things. And now and then was so highly ravished withal; as that praying once, on a time, in his Pavilion, in the open fields, he was plainly seen with the pavilion itself, quite raised a pretty way from the earth.   

The Bessians of Bulgary do forage Hungary, but are defeated by S. Stephen: and Conrade the Emperor with great forces being ready to give him battle, is miraculosly prevented. Chap. 7.  
KIng Stephen had likewise through the great familiarity, which he had with God, some revelations of no small importance: as then when the Bessians (being a people of Bulgaria, with whom afterwards they confounded their proper name) and Pagans at that time accustomed to rapine, and most bitter enemies of the Hungars, were even ready to forage and destroy Transiluania; whereof S. Stephen in the night being advertised from Heaven, dispatched immediately with all care and diligence, a Post unto Alba-Iulia, who arrived so early thither, as that all the country people of those parts, had space sufficient, to retire themselves, with their most precious commodities, into walled towns: and there remained exposed to fire and sword, and pillage of the Enemies, the houses only with the beasts, and such like cattle. With which notwithstanding that ravenous people went not long away so triumphant and proud: Because S. Stephen, being provoked with new injuries, made incursions into their Confines, with a flourishing army, and coming to encounter with Cea, the head of the Bessians, slew him, and taking his baggage, made a most rich booty of him, and without converting it to private uses, applied it to pious works, and to the ornament of Churches.  
Heerupon the fame of S. Stephen now continually increasing, and spreading itself through the world; it fell out, that whereas at first, for the instruction and conversion of Hungary there had come thither from diverse parts, very learned and pious men; now for to learn good laws and laudable customs, began thither to resort many rude and ignorant people, with desire of instruction, & light. As among others some sixty of the principal Bessians themselves, though not without great peril and danger, through default of the garrisons appointed there by S. Stephen in those frontiers, who at the appearing of such a troop (which besides the rich furnitures of their personages, brought with them a good number of carriages) either alured by the greatness of the booty, or moved of hatred, or jealousy towards them, without more ado, set upon them, & not satisfied with the unjust spoils they took, some they killed, & others they left half dead, & wounded. The King receiving the complaint of so heinous a fact, caused without tumult and delay the malefactors to be brought into his presence; & after a shrewd reprehension given, setting up gibbets in all the principal passages of the Kingdom, he made them publicly to be hanged up by two and two. Through which severity, besides the punishing of the insolence and presumption past, he so wrought, that while he lived afterwards there was no more any violence offered to any stranger. To this zeal of justice, and care of strangers, may be attributed a great part of the continual protection, which the divine Majesty had of him, in his greatest dangers: whereof besides the events declared above, the adventures which now we shall speak of, do give ample testimony.  
His Cousin Henry being dead, Conrardus Suenus entered into the Empire. Against this man, while for diverse respects he differred his going to Rome, the Dukes & Communaltyes of Italy making a conspicacy, to set themselves at liberty, fell flatly into rebellion; and the better to stand against the power of Caesar, besides the combining of themselves together, they further demanded aid of strangers, and especially of King Stephen, and the Sclavonian nations which extend themselves from the utmost banks of the Adriatic Sea, through Dalmatia, Bohemia, Servia, Bulgaria and Polonia, even to the Arctic pole, by the means of commerce of a common language amongst them. With all which preparation notwithstanding, Italy was not of power sufficient to resist the forces of Conrade; who at the fame of such comotions, descended with a dreadful army unto Milan, and so straightly besieged that City, as all the rest being terrified therewith, laying aside all stubbornness of hart admitted him, with all humble homage and obsequiousness that might be. Whence applying himself to find out the origen and trace of the whole conspiracy; he found that among other stays and upholders, it was founded particularly on the succours promised by the Hungars, as well for the natural aversion they had from the name of the Dutch, as for the especial devotion they bore, from the time they received the Holy faith, to the Italian name, & to the Bishop of Rome.  
Conrade, being exasperated with these informations, and moved to a bitter desire of revenge, was no sooner returned into Germany again, but he took up arms a new to revenge himself of his adversary's, and after he had wasted Bohemia, and the neighbour countries, and severely chastised Boleslaus the new Duke of Polony, and chased away his Son Mestou thence, he sets forth a great Army against Hungary: at which news S. Stephen, though a great deal inferior in forces, endeavours notwithstanding to gather up an army, and to prepare for his defence, confiding yet above all things in the divine succours. Of which his confidence at this time neither, was he a whit deceived. Because the High-dutch very fiercely entering into those parts, and being now encamped in a place commodious, S. Stephen was not slack to meet them with his squadrons, and now were matters disposed on both sides, for a cruel and bloody battle; when besides all opinion, appears in the field, an Imperial Herald, who running through all the tents of the Captains and soldiers, gave express order, to take up the pavilions, and baggage, and to return again into Almany. There could not happen to Conrade, a thing more strange, and new at that time, who examining his officers with great diligence, and not finding he had given any such commandment at all; was satisfied at last, how that Herald could be no other, than an Angel sent from Heaven, in favour of S. Stephen; and being touched with religion, not only for the present renewed a firm peace with the Hungars, but holily resolved withal, perpetually to beware of molesting such any more, whom he manifestly saw to be so safe, and secure under the divine protection.   

Gynla the uncle of S. Stephen raiseth a rebellion, and is overthrown: & after that receiveth Baptism. With another notable conspiracy against him discovered, and punis●…ad. Chap. 8.  
THe good King, being thus delivered from so great a danger, had soon after, a new occasion, to acknowledge the eyes of the divine clemency to be cast upon him. Among the remainder of the rebellious and contumations people, against the yoke of Christ, & obedience of the Prince; was an uncle of his, by name Gynla, who had the mountains of Transiluania in his government. This man, after he had often sought to recall to the ancient profane rites, not only the people but even his Nephew himself; takes upon him through diabolical instinct, to endamage with inroads and incursions the Lower. Transiluania, & the Cities of Hungary itself. While S. Stephen, on the other side, having tried all ways to quiet Gynla, and to put him in the way of salvation; being finally enforced to recurre to arms, had so much furtherance from him that can do all things, as that passing into his Uncle's government, in a few months, he subdued him quite, and converting the neighbour people to the Faith, led Gynla with him prisoner into Hungary, with his wife, and children: and lastly also having induced them to Baptism, he set them at liberty and treated them always very honourably. To this persecution, there succeeded afterwards another, so much more dangerous, as it was more secret.  
Four of the principal Palatynes of his Kingdom, with many familiars of the Court, being but ill founded in human and divine faith, and not able to endure the present tranquillity & peace, and throughly resolved ere Christian religion took deeper root, to reduce Hungary again to the ancient fierceness; determined first of all to take away S. Stephen's life, and thences afterwards to put all into hurly-burly, and to stir up here and there, revolutions and tumults: With this purpose, one of the conspirators, being the most temerarious of the rest, hiding his Scimetre under his coat, and entering one Evening into the Palace, in the shutting of the night, before that candles were lighted (it being then 〈◊〉) m●… 〈◊〉 went privily insinuating himself into the King's lodging; where while he goes feeling the walls up and down into the dark, with dubious hands; behold his Falchion unawars falls from him: at the noise whereof the King crying out, the Palatyne being wholly terrified and confounded, found no better evasion then to present himself unto his presence, & humbly to crave pardon at his hands: 〈◊〉 was the same denied by the Kings who making nevertheless most diligent inquisition of the complices, for public example, would have them by no means to be let without due punishments.   

The Sanctity, and virtues of B. Emericus, sumne to S. Stephen: bis special gift of discerning the merits of others. And how Maurus a Monk was especially honoured by the said King. Chap. 9  
SAint Stephen, in the mean time, had many Children, & among them, one Emericus, who being adorned with more than human virtues, was by posterity afterwards, with the authority of the Pope Beatif●…. It cannot easily be explicated, what consolation took, not only the Parents from the bud, but even likewise all those, who being near him had any knowledge of him. For first, being prevented from heaven, with plenty of benedictions, and always afterwards brought up with exact tendance of Nurses, Tutors, and very excellent choice Masters, and principally assisted by the lively examples, and wholesome documents and admonishments of the Father, (who not content with his present advices to help him, did write himself also a Book of that matter) he came in short time to work those fruits which from so rare a towardness, & diligent education, the world might well expect.  
And among other notable things, recounted of him, this was one, that even from his tender age, through his great moderation of diet, restraining himself, with much watching; he would rise at midnight, to recite devoutly the divine the office, and pausing between psalm and psalm, examine the distractions suffered therein, and with hart contrite, crave pardon of God for them; and would endeavour beside with heavenly grace, to reduce his actual intention to a most perfect habit. S. Stephen sometimes beholds the same through a certain chincke of the wall, and keeps it secret, rejoicing in himself, at so new and pleasing a spectacle. Now the holy King was wont (according to his commissions and faculties, received from R●…,) to observe the customs, and behaviours of Ecclesiastical persons, and to go in person to visit the Churches and Conuents of his Kingdom: and among others, going once to S. martyn's hill, where (as hath been said) many Monks of the Order of S. Benet did live very orderly & regularly together; it pleased him once, to carry his beloved Emericus thither with him, & at his coming near to the place, perceiving the venerable family to come in procession towards him, he suddenly sen this Son before to meet them, & entertain them the while, who being received with great honour by the Servants of God, began in the sight of his Father, to kiss him one by one, but yet not all alike, since that knowing by divine revelation the merits of each one, to some he gave two kisses, to others three or four, and five to many, save only to Maurus he gave seven. Whereat the King marveling much, and thinking it likely not to hap by chance, would needs be satisfied thereof; when Mass was ended he familiarly demanded of Emericus, what was the reason, that to one, and the self same habit of Religous, with the same manner of salutation of kissing, he had observed so great diversity in the number: whereto the Youth very promptly answered, that in such distribution he had had regard to the purity and continency of each one, & that with the number of seven so perfect, it pleased him to honour him so, who from a child to that time, had kept his virginity entire.  
The Father remained with this answer, much more in suspense, than before: and to be the better certified thereof, taking his leave from thence for the present, returned thither again, a little after unknown, with two only familiars, and no more: and dexte●…erously coming by night into the Choir, in time of the Matins, ●…he office being ended, he noted how the greatest part of those Regulars, immediately retired themselves, to repose in their Cells, & how such only as Emericus had favoured most, remaining behind, went to hide themselves in certain corners, to continue their servant prayer. Then S. Stephen approaching first to one, and then to another a part, discovering who he was, very courteously saluted them all; who at the sight of his Royal Majesty interrupting both prayer and silence not failed to salute again with all reverence: ●…ut so did not Maurus, being wholly ravished the while with 〈◊〉 things; for being saluted by the King, with most sweet words, he opened not his Mouth, and being sharply rebuked by him for it conttnued still mute. Whereupon the day following the King for better proof of the in ward qualities of Maurus, causing the bell to sound to a Chapter, in the presence of all, with severe countenance at last charged him with many things that by no means became a religious person: but the disciple of Christ, confiding in the testimony of a good conscience, and in the judgement of him that sees all, keeping always a good composition, and modesty with him, answered not a word. Whereupon the King apprehended the sanctity of this man, was with reason so singularly honoured by his son Emericus, & laying all dissimulation aside, he discovered most clearly to the Monks, the intent wherefore he came thither, and the experience he would needs make of Maurus. Nor did he extol him only for the present, with extraordinary praise, but further elected him a little after, to the Bishopric of Cinq-Eglises, and obtaynedthe full confirmation thereof from his Holiness.   

A singular act of Chastity in Emericus, preserving his virginal parity in the state of Matrimony. Chap. 9  
IN this mean while, Emericus went daily increasing, both in years and virtues, & felt a generous desire to burn in his breast of doing some notable service to the divine Majesty. With ●…his devotion, entering on a time, with one page only, into the Church of S. George; he puts himself on his knees to meditate, and to find out with himself, what Present to offer, that might be most grateful & acceptable to the eyes of his Creator: and behold on a sudden, the whole place to be replenished with an immense light, and a voice heard which said: Virginity is a fair and beautiful thing; this is that which I seek entirely of thee, as well in mind, as body; This then, do thou offer to God, and see thou persevere there in with full purpose. These words arriving in the ears of the Page withal▪ did so penetrate the mind of Emericus, and so wrought with him, as that being inflamed with the desire of obeying, and distrustful withal of his own forces, he prayed in this manner.  
My Lord God, to whose eyes every thing is open, and naked, & who, as thou knowest, through thy just judgement how to take away the life from great men, and are very dreadful to the Kings of the earth; so to their frailty, who presume not of themselves canst tell how to afford opportune succour; Grant I beseech thee, thy most holy will, may completely be performed in me, and with the dew of thy mercy▪ extinguish in my 〈…〉 concupiscence Fortify the weakness of thy poor Servant through thy benignity, that he may never swearue from the right way: Guard him from all the allurements of sensuality, and cause that he never commit any thing, whence he may seem to fall from thy grace.  
The Colloquy ended, Emericus felt himself to be fully replenished with extraordinary consolation, & wonderfully encouraged withal, yet to eschew vain glory, would never reveal the favour to any, but commanded his servant under grievous pains, as long as he lived, to keep it secret. When cooperating afterwards, with the divine mercy, he never left at times to macerate the flesh, with prayer fastings, and vigils: and that with reason too, because God, (who is not pleased with virtues not come to the Chisel, and proved by the Hammer) disposed, that by means of his Father, he should be tempted to marry with a young Lady of rare qualities, and of Princely blood, though by Authors unnamed. To which importunity, after Emericus had resisted a pretty while at last, not to contristate his Parents, he yields, secure the while, that the divine Goodness for the observance of his promise, would not fail him of some succour or other, as indeed after he found it so.  
For that as soon, as he had with solemn ceremonies, publicly accepted the Spouse, in pritrat being assisted from heaven, as well with reasons, as with prayers, he easily induced her, to conserve with him, under the cloak of Matrimony, the flower of virginity, preferring it (wisely) before all respect of issue, and all the greatnesses, & Signoryes of the world. Whereof in progress of time S. Stephen was aware; but yet setting the greater glory of God before his eyes, by all means he abstained from with drawing Emericus from his holy purpose. Amidst so great variety of human accidents, & among so many prosperityes of glorious victories and joyful successes, had S. Stephen no want not withstanding of his probation & scourges. For of so numerous an offspring, which he had, while one died after another, in their childhood, there was only Emericus left him, with whose safety alone, to him it seemed were counterpoised all other losses whatsoever; when he also, in the flower of his age, was snatched away, so accomplished with merits, to be an advocate in Heaven, for those nations, which in earth by lawful inheritance belonged to him.  
S. Stephen nevertheless at so grievous a blow felt incredible▪ sorrow; especially so redoubled a little after, by the death of his wife, not finding the while, any one of his stock, to whom securely he might leave the government: and the whole kingdom standing in danger to return to their old vomit, and customs as before, when through want of a good successor, the good exercises began, should be quite given over. Emericus his exequys were celebrated in Alba-Regalis, some 30 days after his happy passage, with so evident miracles, and so full persuasion of his eternal felicity, as in a moment all the clouds of sadness and mourning were vanished quite, when his wife, now Widow, gave faithful testimony of her husband's virginity, and the Rage to confirm the same, discovered what had happened in S. George's Church.   

How S. Stephen dies, and is buried with pomp in the Church of our Lady which himself had built, where he works many miracles. With the translation of his holy Body afterwards. Chap. 10.  
SAint Stephen persevering still in his wont yielding of due thanks unto God, and conforming himself with the divine will in all things, came shortly after to fall into a grievous palsy, where with being held more than 30. months in his bed, he was finally seized with a strong fever, which brought him to the end of human miseries. And now at last, peceyving himself to decay, causing the Prelates and Barons which were in Court, to be called unto him, he dealt with them about a future Election, having always an eye on the divine service, & increase of his holy faith, & exhorted them with fatherly affect●…, to est●… it above all things, and for the same to be ready to spend their blood, when oceasion should require. Moreover, he recommended to them the observance of the divine precepts, & of the Pope's ordinations, the maintenance of justice, concord, and of peace, not only among themselves, but like wise withstrangers▪ In sum, to show themselves Christians to every one, and faithful no less in hart, and deeds, than profession, and title.  
In this manner in substance, S. Stephen spoke to the principal of the Kingdom, with the great resentement, and sorrow of as many as heard him; when lifting up his eyes and hands to heaven, not without tears, but with voice interrupted, he spoke in this manner; O glorious Queen of Heaven, O noble restorer of the world, into thy hands do I recommend, together with my soul, the Churches, the Clergy, the Primates, and the people of Hungary. Heerupon, having received, in the presence of all, after the Sacrament of Penance, the celestial Via●…ique & Extreme unction, he quietly rendered his spirit▪ upon the very Feastof the Assumption, as he had always desired, a happy day, and with reason ever celebrated by him from a child with singular joy, being then the year of our Lord, one thousand thirty & eight, or thirty four, as some will have it, being the 69. of his Stephen's life, and 41. of his Crown.  
His body with magnifical pomp▪ and most frequent concourse of all the States, was carried likewise to Alba regalis, there ●…o be deposed in the Temple of the most blessed Virgin, by him built, as we have said above: but being not yet consecrated, it seemed good to the Bishops, that ceremony should first precede the funerals, which being ended, he was there placed with psalms and canticles, and other solemnities, in a vault of white marble; where a long time the divine Goodness continually glorified his servant, giving health to the lame and diseased; and consolation, and ●…cour to the miserable & afflicted. There were heard also in the same place, often times by night, angelical songs, with a most fragrant odour diffused on every side. The precious members lay there in a Sepulchre, some 45. years at which time Ladislaus the 7●… reigning, there came order from R●…, that diligent search, and enquiry should be made of all the relics of such, at from the beginning had been the instruments of God, in the preaching of the Word, & conversion of Hungary; and for the renewing of the memory of such labours, and so great merits, that a very Honourable, and Noble translation, should be made of their bodies.  
In verive of this Order, by the universal Diet, was a Fast intimated of three days, with prayers and alms; after which Ladisslaus, with much veneration, being accompanied by the Court & people, came first to the Monument of S. Stephen: but with all the engines, and strength that might be, was it not possible to be opened and discovered; until such time, as by the advice of a Virgin, whose name was Carite (who being immured besides the Church of our Saviour, was held in great opinion of sanctity) he was resolved to deliver Solomon his brother, imprisoned by him for grievous strifes and disgusts between them. Heerupon now the Fast being redoubled, that immoveable stone, was so easily removed as it had been of wool, of straw. The Coffin then of lead being taken from thence, and carried in procession, and the Vespers sung, it was reverently deposed upon a most glorious Altar, in the midst of the Church; and all that day, and the night following, there continued very evident miracles.  
In the morning, which was the 20. of August, the Mass being celebrated, and prayer ended; the King, with the principal of the Clergy, and Nobility, approaching to the coffin, keeping the multitude off, for fear of some theft, with devotion they opened the same, and now the flesh being dissolved, the bones appeared to lie within a certain liquor, like balm, which even savoured of an odour of Paradise, being much consumed with tyme. Ladislaus beheld it attentively, and with great curiosity seeking for the ring of S. Stephen, caused for that purpose, the said oil to be jaded forth by hands of the worth yeast Prelates, into silver vessels: but by how much the coffin was emptied by others, it was again filled up of if self, and all their diligence succeeded in vain: being then amazed thereat, they poured it in again, and yet the quantity increased not a whit either more or less. When the borres withal, being put thereinto, they were thence translated, into a most sumptuous, and rich Chapel.   

An Angel appears to Mercuriu●… a Monk, and delivers him a hand with the Ring of S. Stephen. With a Miracle happening at the shrine of Emericus. Chap. 11.  
OF the number of those, to whom, in the ministry of the Priests, was denied access to the sacred relics, was a Monk whose name was Mercury, deputed to the service and custody of that Church. This man, taking it very heavily to hart, that he could not be suffered at pleasure, to be hold and kiss that great treasure, retired himself a part; and there in the dead time of the night, sat mourning and lamenting, when besides all hope, there appeared to him a young man, of a heavenly countenance, who reaching him a piece of fine holland, enfolded and wrapped up together: Take here (said he) O Mercury, the same which thou hast so much desired, & when thou hast kept it in deposito for a day, do thou carry it to the King. After these words, the Angel vanished away: and Mercury full of unspeakable sweetness, unfolding the cloth, found there the hand and Ring, so much sought for of the King, and when it seemed to him, to be now high time, he went and made a present thereof to the King Ladislaus, who received it most joyfully, & in a sumptuous Reliquary, caused it to be laid apart in another Oratory. And it was but just, that so beneficious a right hand, with particular care, without all injury should be kept and reverenced, in a place by itself, which so often had been so profusedly stretched forth, to the benign succour, and liberal relief of the poor.  
This particular, from a heap of relations, we have thought good to select forth, about the life, customs, and greatnesses of S. Stephen, the first King of Hungary. With which, since we have accidentally like wise fallen upon those of the blessed Emericus; it may not happily be amiss, to conclude the whole narration, with an admirable effect, whereof they both, though not equally, might seem to participate.  
In the time of the same King Ladislaus before mentioned by us, a certain High-dutchman, one Conrade by name, a man of a most wicked life, and plunged in all manner of debauchnes, being at last compunct, and contrite for all; went his ways to Rome, and there making a general Confession of his whole life, had for his penance, to wear on his bare flesh, a breast plate of steel, tied on with five chains of iron, with a sheet of paper written therein, wherein his more enormous crimes were contained, signed with the seal of his Holiness, and in this habit to go visit the holy places of Christendom, until such time, as through divine power the bands should be undone, & the writing be wholly canceled. This man obeyed with great promptness, and after he had been at Jerusalem, and other famous Monuments of Saints, he came at last unto Alba-regal●…, & there putting himself in prayer, at the shrine of the holy King Stephen, he determined not to arise from thence, until he had perfectly obtained the grace. And now he had persevered from one, to nine a clock at night, when sleep through wearynes oppressed him, and immediately the glorious King appeared unto him, saying: Get up friend, and go thy ways to the Chapel hard by, of my son Emericus, who through especial privilege of incorrupt virginity, shall obtain thee undoubtedly pardon of thy so great crimes, he being one of the number of those, who have never defiled their garments, but accompany the Lamb wheresoever he goes, and who stand singing before the Throne of God, that new song.  
Which said he vanisheth; & the Penitent without delay, passing to the Monument of Blessed Emericus, had no sooner begun to frame new prayers, but that in a moment, his hard knots fell loose of themselues, & the seal broke open, & discovered the paper to be blank. At the noise of the chains falling off, the Keepers of the Church, & others, at that time entering to do their devotions, came running to him, and some of them understanding particularly by relation, and the rest with their own eyes what had happened, never ceased to magnify God, the giver of all good, and marvellous in his Saints. To whom be all honour, power, and benediction for all eternity.   
Amen.   

S. EDWARD KING.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

AN Orphan left, and in minority,  
Heau'en was my Guardian; this did me protect;  
To this I did assign my custody;  
My raging ●…es hereby suppressed and checked  
Yielding to 〈◊〉, did grant me liberty  
To serve my dear Advancer, and reflect  
On this false world, which promising content  
Doth only yield us matter to repent.   

As those that in the Eternal Essence see  
What ere falls out, what ever was before:  
Veiled under bread, Dear Lord, I viewed in thee  
The machinations of the Prince 
* The D●….  that bore  
A Raven bathed in Martial Gules, to be  
Dissolved: I stretched mine Empire past the shore  
That Albion bounds: my force did Ireland tame  
That thought my standards fatal where they came.   

Treasures so much I slighted, that I viewed,  
Vnmoved thereat, my treasures borne away.  
The ●…ately Fane at 
* Now Westminster  Thorney raised, hath showed  
My end, Heaven's glory: Still it doth display  
A mind with true Magnificence end●…'de.  
Hereby I gained what never shall decay:  
And with a Ring espoused me to the sky,  
Where my Reign done, I reign Eternally.    

THE LIFE OF S. EDWARD KING OF ENGLAND.  Written by Alred Abbot of Ridall, of the Order of Cisterce. 

S. Edward is chosen King in his Mother's womb. Ethelrede the Father dying, Edmund succeeds. Canutus rages. Emma flies with her two younger Sons into Normandy: with the great towardliness of S. Edward.  
IT pleased G●…, the Blessed Edward, through especial p●…ogatiue, should be chosen King before his a●…pearing to the world: for that at the instance of his Father Ethelred King of England, a Parliament being called, as well for other public affairs, as to declare, & swear to a new Prince, howbeyt already there were two sons of his of strong constitution, Edmond, and Alfred: yet the Nobility & Clergy, being but little satisfied with either of them, with a wondrous inclination, concurred to yield homage unto an uncertain issue, as yet enclosed in the Mother's womb, which being born 〈◊〉 little after, was called by the name of Edward. True it is, that E●…red dying in those days, and most cruel tempests threatening the Island on every side, with consent of the Barons, not to leave thing●… altogether without a head; the said Edmond, took the rule upon him. Nor was it long, but that a terrible inundation of the Barbarous Danes, came rushing into England, under the Tyrant Canutus. Who beginning to put all things to fire and sword, the Queen Mother, whose name was Emma, a Norman by nation, was conveyed for greater security, with her younger sons, into her Father's Country.  
here the child Edward, began betimes to give forth very evident signs of the mature piety he was like to attain in tyme. I●… regard, that having in scorn all childish sports, he attended still, among other tokens of a Christian mind, to visit now this, now that holy Convent, and to link straight amityes with the most famous Servants of God. In the mean time, in England the ●…ury of the Enemy grew day by day more cruel, than other: nor was now to be seen at last, or heard any other than slaughters, rapines, bitter plaints, and terrible outcries. The Temples burned, the sacred habitations ruined, the Guardians, and Pastors' o●… souls, for fear of the worst punishments, hid themselves in the most craggy, and desert places.  
Among which, was Britwald Bishop of Winchester, a man of great prayer, and of a notable spirit. Who praying one day, with many tears, for the health of the Kingdom, and pouring forth his afflicted hart with sighs and laments before the divine presence, after much weariness of mind, and body, fell finally asleep. Where behold the Prince of the Apostles appeared to him, from an eminent place, with S. Edward before him, a youth very gracious in countenance, and adorned with a sceptre, diadem, and royal man●…le, who after he had with solemn unction, consecrated him with his own hands, gave him many good documents withal, full of verity and life; and in particular exhorted him, to keep virginity, revealing to him besisides, for how many years he should hold the dominion.  
Now Britwald being sorely astonished at such a vision, at soon as he returned again to himself, took hart, & beseeched S. 〈◊〉 to vouchsafe to manifest to him some things of the estate of that miserable Country, & of the end of the troubles, which afflicted the same. To which demand, the Apostle answered, with a seren countenance▪ Kingdoms, O Bishop, are of God, he is the Lord, and Master of all; he at his pleasure altars, and changes governments, & for the sins of nations, doth often exalt the Hypocrite. The divine Majesty, is grievously offended with thy people, and therefore they are fallen into the hands of their most capital adversary's: but yet nevertheless God shall not be unmindful of his wont mercy, nor stretch forth his just vengeance, for ever upon them: because many years shall not pass after thy death, but the present calamities shall cease, and the wished redemption shall come to this peoplesince his eternal goodness, hath already destined a man, according to his hart, and wholly at his devotion; who being placed through my help in the royal Throne, with the infinite consolation of the subjects, shall abate the forces, and bridle the Danish fury; and who after he hath many ways raised, and advanced the Church, being dear to God, very acceptable to his friends, and dreadful to his enemies, shall termine his glorious life, with a most holy end.  
From this so benign an answer, together with the sight of him there promised, the Bishop took new courage, and stuck not to inquire of the Oracle itself, of the posterity, and successors of Edward. To which demand, with obscure and dubious words, the Apostle replied no more, but that, God was Lord, and after this, he would provide another, according to his good pleasure.   

Edmund with his Children are put to the sword. Alfred is made away. S. Edward prays, and makes a vow to God and S. Peter; and Canutus with his children dying, is recalled into England again. Chap. 2.  
THe English troubles, continuing still, with civil discord among themselves, being joined at last with extern wars, came to be so mischievous and pernicious, as that despising all law of faith, all vicinity of blood, all obligation of friendship, all things were full of fraud, factions, and jealousies. And even malice proceeded so far, as that the Nobles themselves, forgetting their oath shamefully renouncing their lawful Kings, and putting Edmond to the sword, with his children at Nurse, they continually prepared tragedies. Canutus with a wicked marriage, possessing the Widow the Wife of Edmond, left nothing untried, to confirm himself, in the unlawful usurpation of the Kingdom. Wherein he had so fast a hold, that Alfred for the quieting of tumults in some manner, too boldly passing over from Normandy into his Country, was with extreme cruelty, made away, as well by the Danes, as English, and at the same time, the desolate Queen Emma died in her Father's house.  
Then Edward, being deprived of all human succour on earth, and fearing every hour, his last ruin from others, amidst many troubles, and anguishs, prostrating himself most humbly before the divine presence, prayed in this sort. Behold, Lord, how I have now, no more help in me, and my nearest friends are far of from me: my friends, and neighbours, are all become my adversary's; I have neither Father, nor Mother in the world; my Brothers and Nephews, are betrayed and slain; the widow my kinswoman, is become our adversary's wife. So as I am left without all stay, & they seek moreover, to take away my life. But I (O Lord) poor wretch, am left to thee, and thou shalt succour the orphan, as heretofore in a marvellous manner, thou hast done to King Edwin, environed on every side. Thou, that madest S. Oswald, the ornament of England, of an exile, to be King, and by means of the sign of the Cross, didst subject to him, all those that hated him; If thou shalt be with me, and through thy protection, remit me into my Father's kingdoms, thou shalt be always my God, and the blessed Apostle Peter, shall be my especial Protector, whose most holy relics, I do promise to visit in the City of Rome, with his direction.  
With this Vow, S. Edward felt himself exceedingly, revived, and replenished with no vain hopes. For that Canutus in few days died, and his children also, of tender age, not long survived. By occasion whereof, the English, as a wakened out of a dead sleep, very suddenly took up arms, and shaking of the yoke of intruding tyranny, recalled the desired Edward into the land again, and receiving him with all the honour possible, with one accord, they placed him in the royal throne. At the coming of S. Edward, all good arts, and Christian virtues did return from banishment. The vacant Seas were soon replenished, Churches, and Monasteryes repaired, and the divine service, in short time brought to its ancient splendour again. Hence through welcome peace, ensued the tillage of the waist and desert champaynes, and the Iudge●… and Magistrates being kept in their duty, more through example of the King, then fear of punishments, attended to administer upright justice, to all sorts of persons. The jubilee, and content of the present felicity, was much augmented by the fresh memory of the miseries past; insomuch as not only the reasonable creatures with praises and thanksgiving, but even the land itself, with extraordinary fruitfulness, the air with fair and serene weather, the sea with still and quiet waves, and smiling countenance, seemed to acknowledge him, and the Cities' daily to multiply in laudable customs, riches, and multitude of inhabitants.   

Two notable examples in S. Edward of contempt of Riches. With his vow of chastity, maintained in the state of Matrimony. Chap. 3.  
IT was not long, ere the fame of so great prosperity, extended to the Provinces beyond the Seas. And from all the Potentates, the Dane excepted (for they left not their pride) came very honourable Embassages, from time to time, to congratulate, to make leagues of friendship, and to establish some good correspondence with S. Edward. And he the while, not puffed up with pride, nor dissolute with vain triumphs, having always the divine Majesty, before his eyes, with an even tenor of life, carried himself very meek to his domestics, reverend to Priests, gracious to the people, compassionate to the afflicted, and above all things, a great Almoner, & a strange neglecter of money; insomuch, as once, among the rest lying on his bed, & his private Treasurer, Hugoline by name, having unawares, left open a chest of money in that chamber, a groom of the place, being invited through the commodity of the purchase and the seeming sleep of the Prince, approaching boldly, took away from thence a good quantity thereof, & put it up in his pocket; and being glad of so happy a success, returned again a second time and so a third; When as the King, who had feigned till then, perceiving Hugoline to be coming, broke silence, and with friendly voice, said to the wretch Get thee gone, for the Treasurer comes; who if he chance to catch thee once, will not leave thee a fa●…thing of all thou hast. At this voice, the fellow fled as soon, and scarcely had got his feet forth of one door, but Hugoline entered by the other, and finding so great a sum of treasure to be wanting, he was even ready at first to faint for grief, then entering into a rage with himself began to rend the air with cries and sighs: When S. Edward, arising from his bed, & still dissembling the matter, quietly demanded the occasion of so great a heavynes, and having heard it: Hold thy peace man (said he) perhaps he who hath taken it away had more need thereof, than we: Much good may it do him, the rest I hope will serve for us. With such quietness, he passed over that act. Whence may be gathered, how well subdued he had his passions, & how far he was, from all rapine of others goods, that was so prompt to yield his own.  
To which purpose likewise, we may not let this pass; there having been in his Father's time, a most grievous taxation, laid on the people, in respect of an army to be levied against the Danes, and yet the same exaction still continuing (as it happens) though the war were ended; S. Edward as a good Father, and Pastor of his people, with princely liberality, discharged them thereof, for ever: whereto, besides the greatness of his mind, he was likewise moved by seeing plainly, upon a heap of the same money, an ugly Devil to sit, and sport himself. In such like acts as these of religion, equity and bounty, with the edification of all the world would S. Edward spend the time afforded him for the purchase of the Eternity. And yet among these same honourable thoughts, he forgot not a whit, the virginal title, so seriously recommeded to him by S. Peter the Apostle: which thing indeed, proved to be so much more violently assaulted by his green years, hot complexion, easy access unto delights, as through the fubtilityes of the enemy, and store of servants, most prompt to him at every beck. Which assaults notwithstanding, though grievous and fastidious, yet most commonly being open and manifest, S. Edward did manfully resist, through divine grace, and went continually away with glorious triumphs. The battles which perpetually day and night he suffered, from the Communality, and states of the land, were cloaked with honesty, and coloured with the public good, and consequently more treacherous, and terrible to him; who showing infinite care of the universal peace, and security, which greatly depended on the future succession of the King, never left urging opportunely, and importunely, in time and out of season, with reasons, and examples, with prayers and conjurations, and those mingled now and then with some manner of threats, that he, forsooth, having pity on his country, and of the dangers, that hung over it through his single life, would be pleased to differ no longer to provide for progeny, to wit, some fruitful and honourable ma●…e.  
Such were the requests, and supplications of the people, and Barons. Among which, with appearance of right intention, and holy zeal the Earl Godwin showed himself most earnest, being a person, very potent, politic, and ambitious, and who by the opinion of all, had a hand with the tyrant Canutus, in the impious murder of Alfred; and now with thoughts, wholly pointing to his private greatness, plotted to marry his daughter Edith with Edward, and that to the notable increase of his estate, to see her Queen. This Lady, was not any thing like to the Father, as one that feared God, being a friend of abstinence, very prompt to read and work, far from prattling, & all feminin disports; in sum, a rose sprung from thorns, ordained by God for a faithful Companion of S. Edward in all virtues. This young Virgin, by public decree, was commended and tendered to the good Edward, with the common importunities and prayers persevering still; so much more lively, as the necessities of the Kingdom, and qualities of the Spouse, made a repulse to the more inexcusable. All this now, the King knew very well, but on the one side being resolved, not to manifest; or break his solid purpose of virginal chastity; & on the other, very hardly able to resist any longer, the petitions and most earnest importunities of his subjects; being put into such straits, and fallen into an agony, he could find no better remedy, than even the same by him so often tried, of voluntary pennances, and fervent prayers. So as after many fastings, and other corporal afflictions, which doubtless do serve very much, to render the divine Majesty propitious to a man, being prostrate on the earth, full of humble affect, and firm faith, he spoke to his Creator & Lord, in this manner following: O good jesus, by thee the three Children have been delivered from the Chaldean flames of old. Through thee joseph leaving his cloak behind, had saved this honour: and the constant Susanna got the victory of the lewd old Men: and the holy judith through thy help could not be tempted by Holofernes. Behold me here, thy servant, and as I have been heretofore, favoured and beloved of thee, in diverse accidents: So secure me now also, O Lord, in this necessity, and grant, that in some manner, of imitation of Mary thy Mother, and joseph her faithful Guardian, such espousals may be had between Edith, and Me, that my Chastity may suffer no wrong, or empeschement whatsoever. So Edward prayed, and moreover added thereunto the efficacious intercession of the Queen of Angels herself: by whose intercession and means, so great desire of purity, was infused into the Spouses mind, as that being brought with solemn pomp and royal preparations to her husband, she was by him, without the mediation of any other testimony at all, in the divine sight, very easily brought to a perpetual purpose of entire Virginity; in such sort as being both united with the holy band, contenting themselves with the Sacrament of Matrimony, they always kept themselves pure and far from any work of wedlock.   

S. Edward being mindful of his vow of Pilgrimage, consults with the Peer●…s of his Kingdom thereof: But after debate resolves, & is dispensed therewith by the Pope. Chap. 4.  
THis difficulty, now by divine help, being so passed over, there remained yet another, of some moment; which was the fulfilling of his vow (as we have said) heretofore, in his greater troubles, to visit personally in Rome, the Memory of the Apostles. The pious King, kept faithful record still of this so great an obligation, and the care he had of performing the same, did now continually burn in his breast. Whereupon, as soon as matters seemed to afford opportunity, he immediately began to make provision of magnificent and sumptuous gifts, for to offer up at the holy Altars of Rome; & beside went putting of things in order for the voyage. To this effect, calling the chief of the Kingdom into counsel, he discovered this thought of his unto them; and reducing to all their memories, the unhappy state, and extreme calamities of their country, which had brought him to recommend himself to the divine Clemency, and to make a vow of pilgrimage to Rome, to obtain more easily the Protection of the Prince of the Apostles, he demonstrated with many reasons, how abominable, and impious it was, to forget one's duty, and to become ungrateful to him, who had delivered the whole nation from the hand of most cruel enemies: wherefore, every one sincerely should propound, what best occurred to him, about the accommodating of things, in such sort as through his absence, might neither the traffic by sea, nor commerce by land, nor Towns, Castles, or Cities, nor finally the private, or public affairs come to suffer any hurt: and lastly bids them be of good cheer, affirming, he was most secure that the Great God, would both assist him, in so long a journey, and conserve his subjects in the peace and abundance, which of his benignity he had granted to them of late.  
To this sense did S. Edward speak, and scarcely had he finished, but all those Counsellors, and heads of the Provinces, began to complain with a loud voice at such a resolution, as not being fit the land should so be abandoned of its guide, and the subjects exposed to the slaughters, and outrages of the Enemies, who were ready at all occasions, that should be offered them, to return again into the Island in arms: His vow was laudable, but yet counterpoysed with too grievous and manifest perils. In this sort contended they a good while, and after many answers, & replies to and fro, he finally took resolution, to remit all to his Holiness, being at that time Pope Leo, the Ninth of that name; who being fully informed by express men, and letters at large, wrote back to the King, in this form.  
Leo Bishop, the Servant of the Servants of God, to his dearly beloved Son Edward, King of the English, Health, and Apostolical benediction. Knowing thy good desires, worthy of praise, and most acceptable to God, we do yield due thanks for the same, to him through whose means Kings and Princes do rule and govern, & execute justice: but forasmuch, as God in every place, is near to those that call upon his name, in truth and equity, and the holy Apostles are united with their head, with one, and the self same spirit; and that he equally attends to pious prayers: And that besides being evident, the Kingdom of England would come to be in great dangers, if thou shouldst leave the same, that with the bridle of thy power restreynest the seditious motions of the people: We by the authority committed to us from God, & his holy Apostles, do absolve thee from the band of that vow, for which thou fearest to offend the divine Majesty; and likewise, in virtue of that power, which was granted to us▪ by our Lord, in the person of the blessed Peter, when he said: Quaecumque solueris super terram, erunt soluta & in caelis, we do first absolve ●…ee, as well from this band, as from all other negligences and defaults whatsoever, incurred in thy whole life: then, in virtue of holy Obedience, and by title of penance, we do command thee, thou distribute the money, assigned to this Pilgrimage to the poor; and to erect beside, a Monastery of Religious, unto the honour of the Prince of the Apostles: yet leaving still to thy discretion, either to tear it from the first foundations, or to repair or augment some other in ill plight, and ruined already through injury of times or other accidents: & furthermore, that thou endow the same, with rents sufficient, to maintain a good number of the Servants of God; to the end, that while they there attend to praise the divine Majesty, the glory may redound to the Saints, and pardon and indulgence to thee. Besides, we do will and declare, whatsoever so conferred & applied, either by thee, or any others, to be firm and stable, and to be always the habitation of the Monks, and not to be subject to any secular person whosoever, except the King. Moreover we confirm, with most ample authority, what privileges may seem good to thee, to be granted, so as truly they may be to the honour of God. And for conclusion, we do curse him with eternal malediction, whosoever shall once seem to have the boldness to violate, or break the same.  
This Brief of the Pope, though otherwise true and authentical enough, was notwithstanding by the divine will, confirmed with an admirable event, as followeth.   

S. Peter appears to an Hermit, and bids him in his name to advise S. Edward, not to doubt of the Pope's Brief. The joy of the King heereat: and what followed thereupon. Chap. 5.  
THere lived in those country's a holy Hermit, who having been now, for many years voluntarily shut up, in a deep Cave, with desire of Contemplation, came at last, to receive the crown of justice.. To this man, on a night S. Peter appeared, and said to him: K. Edward, through anxiety which he feels, for a certain vow that he made, in the banishment from his Country, & for the care, which he hath for the quiet of the Kingdom, and necessities of his Subjects, hath taken resolution, to seek the pleasure of the Pope of Rome: Let him know then, that of mine authority, he is dispensed of the same obligation, with condition to found a Monastery to my honour and therefore he shall make no doubt of the Apostolical Brief, but shall endeavour to dispose himself without delay, to perform what he commands him to do for that end. Because the whole order proceeds from me, being his ancient Protector, and perpetual Advocate. And to the end, he may see the better to resolve upon the execution thereof; let him know, that in the west side of London, are yet to be seen the ruins of a most noble Temple, and Convent of the Monks of S. Benet, which heretofore hath been favoured with my presence, illustrated with miracles, and consecrated moreover with my proper hands. This place is called Thorney; which for the sins of the Inhabitants there, now for many years, being given over into the hands of barbarous people, of very opulent, and famous, is now become most poor and despicable. This would I have the King take in hand to renew, adorn, and endow with sacred pictures, stately buildings, and rich possessions, that well may they say thereof: here truly is the house of God, and the Gate of heaven. here will I set up a ladder, by which the Angels may ascend, to carry up the supplications of Mortals; and I will not fail according to the disposition of each one, to open him the gates of heaven. But do thou, for the present, put down in writing, what here thou hast heard, and understood of me, and without delay send the scroll to the King, that so he may rest both the more secure of the dispensation, and more prompt to obedience, and stable in my devotion. Which said, the Apostle vanished, and the Hermit's relation, came into the hands of the King, even just at the hour, when the Apostolic Brief was delivered and read.  
Of which concurrence so together, it cannot easily be expressed, how glad S. Edward was thereat, and how greatly astonished were all the standers by. From hence, he did wholly apply himself to the execution of the precept: and the first thing he did, was to distribute to the poor, that whole sum of money, which was prepared for the voyage of Rome; and then after, having taken very diligent information of the place of Thorney, he came to understand, how in the time of Ethelbert, who reigned in the Country of Kent, and was converted to the Faith, by means of the blessed Augustin, being sent into those parts by Gregory the great to preach the Gospel, his Nephew Sebert who ruled the Eastern part of England, at that time, was likewise baptised by the same Servant of Christ, & in sign of his true piety, built a Church in honour of S. Paul, within the walls of his principal City by name London, & gave good rents to Mellitus, for that purpose, newly created Bishop. Then after, without the walls, to the Westward, he built, and richly endowed another, with a sumptuous Monastery, in honour of the Prince of the Apostles.  
Now being to make the Dedication of the Temple, the night before, the same Apostle S. Peter, appeared to a Fisherman of the River of Thames which passeth along that Monastery, upon the banks thereof on the other side, in the habit of a Pilgrim, who promising the Fisherman a good reward, made him to waft him over, and passing out of the bark, in sight of the Fisherman, went directly into the Church, and behold on a sudden, a splendour so bright and glorious, as banishing all darkness, made of an obscure night, a goodly day. There was then present with the Apostle, a multitude of the Blessed, who by turns went in and out, and melody was heard from Heaven, while odours of unspeakable sweetness, were spread up and down.  
The Consecration being finished, the Great Fisher of Men returned again to the Fisher of Fish, and finding him amazed & astonished at that uncouth divine light, entering again into his boat with him, said to him: Hast thou not something to eat? and he replying. The hire you promised, so contented me at first, and then those heavenly rays, did so quite bereave me of my senses, as I had no thought at all of taking any fish. Go to then, said S. Peter, cast thy net into the water. And so he did without resistance, when in a moment, he took a huge multitude of fishes, and all of one sort, save one of an unmeasurable Greatness; which being drawn to the shore, the Apostle said: Thou shalt make a present to the Bishop Mellitus of this here, which exceeds so much the other in worth, & bigness. The rest, do thou keep to thyself, for thy hire: & know that as long as thou livest, thou shalt also have store of them, & likewise thy Successors for a long time after; so that you all take heed, not to fish upon Sundays. I am Peter that speaks so unto thee, and who in company of other Citizens of Heaven, have dedicated this Church, as Titular to me, and with this ceremony have been pleased to supply the Episcopal rite therein. Do thou tell then Melli●…, what thou hast seen and heard, and for his more security hereof do thou show him, the signs which are left in the walls. Whence he shall not need to reiterate the same any more, but there only to celebrate a Solemn Mass, and preaching to the people, give them plainly to understand, that I shall often visit that place, and there be favourable to the vows and prayers of the faithful, to open them the gates of Heaven, and to every one here beneath, who shall lead a sober, pious, and just life.  
At the end of these words, the Saint was seen no more. When the morning being come, and the Bishop now in going in procession to dedicate the Church; the Fisherman went to meet him, with that great fish, and declared to him faithfully, what was recommended to him. Mellitus stood wonderfully in suspense heerat, and opening the Church, finds the flore to be all marked with the Greek, and Latin Alphabet, and the walls in twelve several places to be anointed with holy oil, and as many ends of wax tapers, set upon twelve Crosses, and all these things, as fresh as they seemed to have been but now finished. At which sight, the good Bishop, with all the multitude, begins to bless, and thank the divine Goodness, without end. Nor failed the prophecy of its effect likewise, in the promise made to the Fisherman, forasmuch as he, and all his posterity had ever after a lucky fishing; & in sign of gratitude for it, they were voluntarily wont to give the Monastery the tithes thereof: till at last, one of them, who would needs craftily have subtracted the wont tribute, came to be deprived of the benefit, until such time, as being humbly confessed, and penitent for it, he had made restitution thereof, and promised not to fall any more, into that fault.   

S. Edward sends to Pope Nicolas to confirm the Grants of his Predessour, which was accorded. He cures a Cripple, and the King's evil, with diverse other Cures beside.  
SAint Edward having had certain notice, of such a tradition by diverse ways, without more ado, was inflamed to the restauration, and reedification of the ancient Thorney: and for the obtaining to that end, the confirmation of the privileges and spiritual graces already afforded by the Sea Apostolic, he sent again certain men of purpose to Rome, with an Epistle, to the new Pope, in this tenor.  
To Nicolas, chief Father of the universal Church. I Edward through the grace of God, King of the English, do present all due subjection, and obedience: Let us glorify God, who hath care of his elect, and who in place of a good Predecessor, hath substituted in his place, a very excellent Successor. Whereupon we do think it meet, to come to your Holiness, as to a solid rock, to refine and examine each action of ours, how good soever it may otherwise seem to be, that between us, in our Lord, may still be received a due acknowledgement and sweet accord together; by means whereof, it may not be grievous unto you, to renew and amplify, at our instance, the grants and favours, which your said Predeceslour heretofore hath afforded unto us; especially in dispensing with the vow, by me formerly made, of my coming to Rome, being changed not without the full remission of my sins, into the building of a Monastery of Religious, unto the honour of God, and the blessed Peter his Apostle: as I also, for my part, will notfayle to confirm, & augment, the good customs of annual contributions, which are made to the said S. Peter, in these my Provinces: of which Collections, with other appendices, I do send your Holiness a present, to vouchsafe to pray for me, and for the peace and tranquillity of my Kingdom, and to ordain that continual and solemn memory be had of all this Nation, before the Altar, where the sacred Bodies of the two most glorious Princes of the Earth be kept.  
The Pope, very easily assented to his suits, so just; he confirmed the dispensation, ratifyed the privileges, exempted those Monks from the jurisdiction of the Ordinary, and recommended to the King, not only the protection of the said place, but even likewise the defence, and good direction of the Churches of the Island. So that all things were done in name of the Roman Bishop, & with the assembly and counsel of the Abbots, & Bishops. In this manner, an end was put to the business of the Pilgrimage: & the most devout King, went so persevering in holy works, as it pleased the divine Goodness, to make him continually more great, and more illustrious than ever, not only with fame, and worldly honours, but even also, with the gift of Curing, and Prophecy, and of other not ordinary miracles.  
He being once at his palace, hard by the Church of S. Peter, there came thither a certain Irish man, of a miserable form, or figure; for that beside he was full of ulcers, and that the nerves and sinews of his knees, were so shrunk up, and so attracted together, as they had even retorted his legs to his very back, his shanks and shins stuck close to his reynes; whence he was forced, with certain Pattens, in his hands, to go creeping on all four, with trailing his limbs after him. This man having thus a good while been a burden to himself, to his own exceeding pain, and trouble, and not finding any human remedy, recurred devoutly to the divine: and after he had recommended himself, many times, with great fervour, to the Prince of the Apostles; going lastly forth of the Church, & approaching near to Hugoline, whom we mentioned above, being the King's servant and favourite, he spoke unto him thus.  
And will you not once look upon me? and have you no compassion on me? and do not any so great miseries move you a whit? What wouldst thou have me do to thee (said the other;) when the Irish man replied: It is now six times, that I have gone, in this manner, as you see me here, to visit the Altar of the Apostles, in the City of Rome, to obtain health, which yet at last S. Peter hath not denied, but only seemed to differ a while, and put me off, as willing to have for company in the work, his client K. Edward, for so hath he commanded me to seek him out, and to pray him to bear me on his sacred shoulders, into this Church at hand, with promise that if the King may once be brought thereunto, I shall recover perfectly my limbs.  
Hugoline stood a while in doubt, as at a thing that seemed so absurd at first: yet notwithstanding did the message to his Lord, who immediately gave thanks to God for the same, and without delay, causing the Cripple to come before him, took him cheerfully on his back, and began to carry him to the place designed. Thus hung so poor & noisome a Wretch on the shoulders of so great a Monarch, who with botchy hands, and loathsome arms, clung fast to that royal breast, and neck. At this sight, some Courtiers fell a laughing; others with a scornful and disdaynesull eye, looked on the Irish man, as a Dissembler and Hypocrite; others finally, who would seem wise, began to tax the simplicity, and folly of the Princes but he under this strange burden, had not gone many steps, when suddenly the nerves of the Cripple, began to stretch forth themselves, the bones to be settled again in their places, the dead flesh to wax warm, and the legs and feet, now unloosed from the loins, to return again to their natural place. Whereby a great quantity of corrupt humours, gushing out from diverse parts, did very foully defile the embroidered Robes, wherewith the King was clothed. Then could not the multitude contain themselves from crying out aloud, Hold, hold, for that the Irishman is made sound, the King need not to proceed any further so to weary himself, and to moil and soil his robes, in that manner: While he on the contrary keeping the heavenly precept still fixed in his mind, shutting his ears to the Sirens songs, passed yet further▪ and entering into the Temple, reposed that sacrifice before the Altar; and the Wretch moreover having a good sum of money for his Viatique, returned full of joy, and iubiley to Rome, to give due thanks to God, and his Saints.  
A certain woman, had kernels growing under her throat, or as we call it, the malady of the King's Evil, which continually swelling with putrified blood, besides the possessing of the whole, with a deformed aspect, gave also forth an intolerable ●…ench a●…ane off; this miserable wretch, after she had tried many ways, to be rid of this evil, was finally advertized in sleep, that her Health remained in the King's hands, who if he would but once vouchsa●…e to ●…ouch, and wash the affected place, she should be cured without any more ado. The sick party, being encouraged with such an Oracle comes to the Palace, decla●…es the dream, implores compassion▪ And the King, without any l●…hing of the fowl corruption, begins with his own fingers, to stroke the tumors; then having washed them with water, he made the sign of the Cross upon them; When behold in a moment, the skin being broken, came forth together with gore blood, a great mul●…ude of worms, the ke●…els were assuaged, and the ang●…ish went quite away. This is certain likewise of some blind people, who having their Eyes spurted with the water, wherein the King had washed his hands, they recovered their sight in the presence of many. But leaving the marvels of this fort; let us come to some of the extraordinary revelations which he had, as follow.   

S. Edward beholds, in vision, the King of Denmark drowned, in coming to invade England. With divine justice showed upon Earl Godwyn, for his perjury. Chap. 7.  
The hatred of the inhabitants of Denmark (as we have said) against the English continued still. And so much the more increased their rage, as more happy, and glorious were the successes of this good King. In sum, the Envy augmented so much, as that after long consults, they determined to use all endeavours to recover the polsession again, whence they were so shamefully thrust out. In the mean time, S. Edward being at Mass, on the day of Pentecost, while the Body of Christ was elevated, showed a smiling countenance, with the eyes attentive, and fixed more than ordinary. The same, was much noted by the standers by, & the Sacrifice being ended, his most familiars were so bold in confidence, as to crave the occasion of such a novelty: and he with his native candour, and humanity confessed what passed, saying thus.  
The Danes had agreed with their King, to return to their ancient exploits of arms, and to come and disturb with hostility, that peace & quietness, which the divine Goodness hath vouchsafed to afford us: and for that they placed the foundation of the whole enterprise in their own valour, not regarding the Highest to be the only Master, and Distributer of victories; his divine Majesty hath been pleased, to let them see their unmeasurable confidence. Now had they their army in readiness, and being jovial, and proud of a prosperous gale, were at the point of hoisting sail; when the King in leaving his long Boat, to board the Admiral, slipping with his foot between both the decks, fell down into the sea, & was drowned without remedy, delivering his followers at once from a new sin, and us from a new danger. And this happened just this very morning; and I hope in our Lord my God, and his most sweet Mother their impious designs shall take no effect in my time: & this is that which our Saviour Christ hath clearly showed my this day. Great joy and iubiley was this news to the hearers; especially when fending some of purpose, to be fully informed thereof, they found and reported the fact, the day and hour, to be just the same, which was told by the King.  
The Servant of Christ, on a time sitting at table, and the Earl Godwyn his Father-in-law by him, it happened, that two Sons of the said Earl, yet children, the one Harold by name and Tosto the other, in playing together, in the presence of the King grew hot (as it happens) into a kind of quarrel, & with bitter rancour, their sport was turned to a Duel. Harold being some what the more robustious and bold, sets upon his Brother, and with both hands pulling him by the hair of his head, overthrew him to the ground, & would have stifled him doubtless, had he not been suddenly taken forth of his hands. Then S. Edward, turning himself to Godwyn asked him if he did see nothing in the scuffling of these two boys, but a simple ●…ray? And he affirming, he did not. But to me, replied the King in this childish brabble of theirs, far greater things than it, are represented. For that, as soon as both shell arrive to man's estate, they shall be taken with blind Envy▪ and wicked Ambition: as first with trains, and hidden frauds▪ they shall seem to sport, and be in jest, with one another; but the stronger at last shall prevail, & ●…hase away the other: and then again attempting to rebel, he shall again be suppressed by him; and after he hath put him to death, it shall not be long ere himself do likewise come to ●…uine. Which to have fallen out effectually, England itself saw afterwards, and truly may testify the same▪  
And since now we are fallen to speak of Earl Godwin: it is said of him, that he another time being at table with the King, one of the Squires stumbling with his foot upon a rub, was ready to fall on his nose, had not the other foot which stood fast upheld him the while. At which sight, the standers by reflecting, how one foot had helped his fellow; the Earl jested. Even so it is (said he) when a Brother helps a Brother, and one succours the other, in his greatest need. Whereupon, replied the King: And so might my Brother likewise have done for me, had Godwin been so pleased. At these words the Traitor was afraid, and with a sad cheer said withal: I see Sir, I see very well you suspect me likewise for the death of your Brother, and give credit to those that falsely term me a Traitor. But God be the judge hereof, who knows all secrets, and so may this morsel in my hand here, do me good, as I was far from working any plot either against thee, or thy Brother.  
K. Edward accepted the condition, and gave benediction to the meat, which as soon, as it came to the midst of the Earl's throat, stuck thereso fast, as he was never able, withal that he could do, either to swallow it down, or to put it up again, so as the passages of respiration, being stopped, his very eyes started forth in fearful manner. Whereupon, as many as were present, were astonished and clearly acknowledged the heavenly revenge; when the King said to them: Take away this dog, as they did. This wicked man, among many things, committed against the divine, and humane laws, was grown at last to be so bold, and abused so much the goodness of the King, as that to sway and rule alone, through diverse calumnies, he had banished by little and little, all the friends & kinsfolks that came from Normandy with the King. Nor was Edward unaware thereof; but politicly proceeding, not to put things into hurly-burly, referred, and reserved all to the Highest, as knowing certainly, he would make some demonstration thereof in its time, which he foretold more than once, not only to others, but even to Godwin himself.  
One Easter day, the King sitting likewise at table (where even amidst the royal Feasts and great assemblies of people, no less than when alone, he was wont to take many occasions to enter into God) he recollected himself more strictly then ordinary, & musing upon the celestial goods, with an elevated mind, acknowledged the unworthiness and baseness of all worldly things: & while he remained thus in this consideration, his face was seen to be more ●…eren then usually, and his lips to move with a modest smile, and then anon to become wholly sad and pensive: the same was noted by by such as were present, and the Table being taken away, Duke Harold, with a Bishop, and an Abbot accompanying him to his chamber, were so bold, as to demand, what had happened to him: When S. Edward answered.  
The more a man shall seem to subtract himself from transitory, and external things, shall the true and essential make the more impression in him. Behold how I amidst the precious wines, and cates most delicate, and amidst the lustre of vessels of gold, & silver, lifting the eyes of my mind, to my Lord God, have first felt myself to be replenished with spiritual consolation, and then in unspeakable manner, have been with the mind, raised to the signt of very sad disaduentures, which for these seven years next, with a sudden mutation, shall hang over the head of mortals. Because God, shall not fail to usit the iniquities of the Christian people. He shall deliver them into the hands, and power of the Infidels, the subjects shall rebel against their Lords: and Kings shall lay traps for Kings, Princes for Princes: and in every Country, the cruel sword, shall revenge the injuries done to the Redeemer. Which things, and others like to these, fell out afterwards, even just in the manner, as the King had presaged. And this may suffice us for his Prophecies.   

S. Edward being at Mass beholds our blessed Saviour on the Altar. And being devoted to S. john Evangelist gives a ring to a Pilgrim for his sake, and dies soon after. Chap. 8.  
KING Edward, was wonderfully devout to all the Ecclesiastical Sacraments, and particularly to the most holy Eucharist: and in this point had, from the divine Goodness, among others, one notable favour. For being at Mass one day in the Monastery of S. Peter, before the Altar of the individual Trinity, with one Leofricus an Earl (of whom it is said, that he lived very holily in the company of his wife Gothgina, and founded many religious Conuents) the Saviour of the world appeared to him on the Altar itself, & stretching forth his right hand, gave him his heavenly benedidiction, with the sign of the Cross, while the King in bowing with his head, was adoring the divine presence. The said Earl Leofricus was likewise made partaker of the same apparition, who not knowing what passed in the King's mind, was approaching to advertise him thereof; whereof S. Edward being aware: Stand still Leofrick, said he, stand still: what thou seest, I see also: and then Mass being ended, he added: I conjure thee, O Earl, for the Majesty of him, we have both seen too day, that while we are in this life, thou speak not a word of this vision, to the end, that either through popular applause, we may not fall into pride, or through so rare a novelty, occasion may be given of murmuring to those, who believe no more, than what they can touch or feel with the fingar.  
Among these things, S. Edward, being now well stepped in years, and loaden with merits, was certified, that now at last his reward approached, and his certificate was in this manner. He held (next S. Peter) S. john Evangelist the beloved Disciple of jesus, in greatest veneration: insomuch, as he never denied any honest petition, that ever was made to him, in the name of S. john Evangelist. When among other times it happened one day his privy Almenour being absent, that a certain Pilgrim, with the said invocation, most importunely craved an alms of him, and he not having any thing at hand, pulling off a precious ring from his fingar, very graciously gave it him. It fell out afterwards, that two English men, went in pilgrimage to the holy Sepulchre, & having crossed the Seas and now strayed unawares, out of their way, in that error they were overtaken by the dark night, wherein very sad and afflicted, they could find neither Guide, nor Counsel, till beyond all hope appeared a venerable old man, who conducting them into the City of jerusalem, benignly received them as guests into his house, and after a dainty supper, brings them to their lodgings, with great charity. The morning being come, they both having given thanks, & ready to take their journey, the good Host said to them.  
Know Brethren, you are like to have a good voyage, and shall return safe, and sound again into your Country: God shall be propitious to you, & I for your King's sake, in all this time, will regard you still. I am john the Apostle, that loves your King very tenderly for the excellency of his chastity. You shall carry him back this ring, which he gave me some days since, when I appeared to him in form of a Pilgrim: and acquaint him that the day of his deposition approaches, and six months shall not pass over his head, ere I put him into the company who follow the Lamb, wheresoever he goes. Which said, the Apostle vanished, & they happily arriving at home gave faithful account to the King, of what they had heard, and seen. Not was the prediction vain, because S. Edward, very soon after fell into his last sickness: wherein purposing to edify by all manner of ways, as many as conversed with him, now feeling himself to decay apace, ordained his death, should be presently published, though all the kingdom, that his soul, being loosed from prison might have the suffrages of the faithful, as soon as might be, and with this, he passed to his most desired Lord, on the 5. of january 1066. having held the sceptre 23. years, 6. months, and 27. days.  
He was bewailed, and buried with that feeling and concourse of the people, as became such a Ruler and Governor. Two translations have been made of that vessel of the holy Ghost: the one some 36. years after his pappy passage, which until the other, was the space of 60. years. In both discoveries, not only those sacred members, but even also his Princely robe, and habit appeared very whole, and uncorrupted. The first Translation was made, to afford him a more honourable funeral. The other followed, at the time of his Canonization, under Pope Alexander the III. When deposing the venerable Relics, there succeeded so many miracles anew, as would be too long a matter & far from our purpose, to make narration of them. Whence we may, with reason hope through the merits, and intercessions of this great Servant of God, that as so many particular persons, have obtained the graces which they craved; even so that most noble Kingdom, all scandals being taken away, and Heresies destroyed, may one day be reduced, to the union of the faithful, and to the lap of the holy Catholic Church.    

S. Anselm.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

SEe in the West Arabia's wonder bred,  
With gorgeous lustre fair embellished;  
Rich in all colours which our eyes behold,  
Vying against the Sun his native Gold,  
The Phoenix of his age. His Parents left  
And of all help and succour quite bereft,  
Heaven undertook his charge. He needs not fear  
The want of friends, whose friends, whose Hopes are there.  
Divided from the world can England be,  
The world's chief Grace having espoused in thee?  
Or seem discouraged now, or heartless grown,  
When such a Saint is denized her own?  
No, she may hope, that though some clouds may hide  
A while the light, it will at length be spied:  
And that th'offended Sun will glister more,  
And spread his rays far brighter than before:  
When you, Dear Saints, shall put an helping hand,  
That you again may on our Altars stand.    

THE LIFE OF S. Anselm ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.  Written by Edinerus a Monk of Canterbury, who lived in his tyme. 

What the condition of S. Anselms Parents was. The presage of his future life. His good inclinations, and first vocation to Religion. Chap. I.  
WE being to unfold the Life and manners of S. Anselm Archbishop of Canterbury, a most noble City of England; will first touch some things of his Parents. His Father then was one Gondolfus, who being borne in Lombardy of Italy, and coming to live in the City of Augusta Pratoria, now called Aust, in the confines of Piedmont, took to wife a gentlewoman, whose name was Ermenberga. These two consorts, for riches & nobility were equal, but in manners and disposition far unlike. Because the husband, being given to his pleasures, was held to be no good husband for his family. While the wife on the contrary, being serious in the government of the house, and a wise dispenceresse of his goods, gave always forth, a most excellent odour of her life unto her last, leaving Gondolfus alive; who seeing himself unloosedfrom the bands of Matrimony, being now grown of great years, became a Monk, and died in his Monastery.  
Of this couple S. Anselm was borne, of whom, as through a certain presage of his future sanctity, it is reported, in his tender years, having heard his Mother say, that above in Heaven, was but one God only, who ruled and maintained the whole Universe, he thought with a childish imagination, that the Heavens were shored up, and sustained by the mountains, & that from the tops of them, one might reach to the royal palace of that great Monarch: and as he often had this thought, it happened one night, that he seemed, to mount up by one of those tops to the foresaid palace, and beholds at the foot thereof, certain servants of the King reaping of corn with much sloth and negligence: Whereat being scandalised, he determined to accuse them to the Lord himself. Whereupon, ascending to the top, and being admitted to the Palace, he found the King, with the only attendance of one Squire and no more, having sent away the rest of his family to reap, it being then harvest tyme. The child then entering into the hall, & being called by the King, approaches near him, and sits him down at his feet. After which, being pleasantly demanded by him, who he was, and from whence, and wherefore he came: he answered to all without difficulty. And immediately heerupon he caused a loaf of most pure bread to be given him, which S. Anselm eating in the King his sight, felt marvellous comfort. Being afterwards awakened in the morning, and reducing this vision to memory, the innocent child held it to be a certain truth, & no fantastical thing; & verily believed, he had been in Paradise indeed, and had tasted of the bread of our Lord, and so publicly affirmed to his companions.  
He went after increasing in years, and virtue so, as for his good behaviour, he was beloved of all. Being sent to School, as he was of an excellent wit, in a very short time, he profited exceedingly in learning: & for his choosing of a state of life, he was not yet entered into the 15. year of his age, when he began to think in what manner he might best observe the divine precepts, & save his soul: and after a long discourse thereupon with himself, he came at last to resolve, there was nothing more apt for the purpose, then to become a Monk, & to consecrate himself forever to the divine Service. With this determination, he went his ways to a certain Abbot, entreating him to admit him into Religion. But that Prelate for fear of Gondolfus, durst not receive him. And yet was not the good youth a whit cool therewith in his purpose: but rather besought God, he might fall into some grievous malady, to the end the Abbot by means thereof, being moved to pity, might admit him at last.  
The prayers of S. Anselm, were more efficacious with God than with men. Being suddenly sick then of a dangerous infirmity, he besought the Abbot anew, he would deign to accomplish his desires, and not suffer him to dye in the world. But he fearing yet the offence aforesaid, was still very stiff in the negative: and that not without the divine Will, since the chaste youth was destined to the help of other nations, and for other enterprises of greater glory of Christ, as we shall see anon. He recovered then his perfect health, & for that time withal renewed the good purposes; but afterwards what with the heat and fervour of youth, and the riches and commodities of home, suffering himself to be carried away with pleasures, and company keeping; he came wholly, as it were to lose, not only his Vocation, and spirit he had, but even also the study of letters, wherein he had been so diligent before. One thing only for awhile, detained him somewhat, from complying too much with his senses therein, the respect of his dear Mother, whom he loand reverenced much. But after she was passed from this life, being then merely without any tie at all to hold him too, that frail bark was carried away into the waves and streams of the world.   

S. Anselm being tired with the bitter usage of his Father. goes into Normandy to S. Lanfranke, and becomes his Scholar. Chap. 2.  
IN his manner went S. Anselm, with the greater part of mortals into manifest perdition; when the heavenly Father beholding him with the eyes of clemency, to untie him from the world, permitted his Father to be so fraught with hatred, and aversion from him, as that equally the good and bad, or rather more the good actions of S. Anselm, them the bad, displeased him: nor was there any means left to pacify him, with all the humility and satisfaction the young man could yield unto him. Insomuch, as seeing every day, the old man to be more bitter to him, and intolerable than other; for fear of some great inconvenience, he determined to leave his Country, Parents, and friends, as well to deliver himself of so great tribulations and troubles, as to apply himself anew, more seriously to learning. Putting himself then in order, and laying his farthel on an Ass, he went towards Burgundy, with only a certain Clerk his familiar friend in his company: and passing over Montsenese, being not much accustomed to the labours of the body, he felt himself, so weary of the way, and of climbing up the hill, and so afflicted withal, as not having other sustenance, he began to eat the very snow, instead of food. Whereat the Clerk being moved to compassion, did presently look into his satchel to see if there were somewhat there to eat: when besides all expectation, he found therein a white and savoury lose of bread, which not in a dream now as before, but really in effect gave to S. Anselm life, so as he arrived in few days to the place designed, very safe and sound, where partly in Burgundy itself, and partly also in France, for about the space of three years, he attended to his studies.  
There lived in those days in the Monastery of Benedictins at Bec, in the country of Normandy, one Lanfranke an Italian by nation, of the City of Pavia, a man so famous for knowledge & goodness, as many youths from diverse parts of the world, repaired to him that were desirous of sound and perfect doctrine. Now S. Anselm being moved with the noise and rumour of such a one; became so inflamed with desire of knowing Lanfranke by sight, and to converse with him, as he doubted not a whit, to go himself in haste into that province. And was in truth nothing deceived of his expectation, finding in that Father, so rare gifts of wisdom, as he took it for no small happiness to have him for Master, and to be admitted into particular familiarity with him.  
With this occasion the fervent lover of liberal arts, without sparing either day or night employed himself with singular industry, to enrich his breast with sundry knowledges of high & extraordinary things, in giving ear to the doctor, in turning of books, in gathering notes, in framing Epitomes, in rehearsing of things heard, and expounding others. In which occupations, while he suffers much pains and many incommodityes (as it happens) now of cold, and now of heat, now of hunger, and then of sleep; it came again into his mind, that if he were a Monk, as heretofore he had desire to be, he should not suffer more troubles and pains, nor do more penance than now he did, while in a religious state beside, he should not lose the merit of so great labours; whereas in the life he then led, it was more uncertain what fruit at last, he were like to gather thence. Wherefore in ruminating this, new purposes began to awake in his mind of serving God, and wholly renouncing secular designs.  
Truly, it is well known that, that fire was as yet very feeble, and the flames ascended but impure, and full of smoke: whereupon, consulting with himself of the Monastery, he was to retire unto, he said within himself: If I enter into that of Clunie, it is somewhat too straight, and I shall not be able to endure it: If in that of Bec, I shall not there be esteemed awhit, since the eminency of Lanfranke will doubtless obscure my name, and qualities: Insomuch, as not only I shall be able to help but few, but shall come also in a certain manner to lose the time and pains, I have taken in studies. It were convenient therefore, I should seek a place, where I might both help others, and give forth some worthy demonstration of myself. In these considerations, S. Anselm was remaining for some days: but then afterwards making his reflection thereupon, through divine grace he was soon aware how they spang from an evil spirit, and from a hart but ill mortified, & too much affected to the world. So, as reprehending himself for it: And doth this forsooth (saith he) seem Monachisme unto thee, so to wish to be preferred before others, and to be more honoured & reputed than others? No truly: go to then, lay down thy pride and become a Monk in a Convent, where, as reason would, for the love of God, thou be'st the last, and the vilest, and most despised of all. And where may this be trow you, but surely in the Convent of Bec? Since there is one to be found, who for his high wisdom and reputation purchased, is so sufficient for all, as there shall be no need of me at all. here then shall be my rest, here my repose, here God alone shall be my scope, here his love shall be my thought, here the blessed and continual memory of him, shallbe my happy entertainment, and pleasant satiety.   

Gondolfus Father of S. Anselm dies, and leaves him his heir. He consults with S. Lanfranke, and the Archbishop of Rouen what course of life to take, and afterward is made Prior of Bec in Normandy. Chap. 3.  
A Midst these deliberations S. Anselm was advertised, that by the last will and testament of Gondolfus his Father, he was become the heir and Successor of all his substance. This news puts his wits on the rack, not so, as to put himself from the will of serving his divine Majesty, but only made him to doubt, whether it were not, to the greater glory of God, to remain in the world, & in the works of Charity himself to dispense his goods to the poor. It would sometimes likewise come to his mind, that to be unknown, and to give himself wholly to contemplation, it were expedient to hide himself, and to live in the desert. In this perplexity, it seemed good to him, not to make any firm resolution therein, without the sound and mature counsel of some understanding and faithful person, remembering the Scripture which saith: Omnia fac cum consilio, & post factum non poenitebis. Wherefore he went to S. Lanfranke and simply declared unto him what passed in his mind, he craved to be settled and established by him, in what were best to be done to the greater service of God. S. Lanfrancke was not willing to be judge in the matter, nor himself to pass the sentence alone, but exhorted S. Anselm, to remit the whole, unto the Venerable Maurilius, Archbishop of Rouen, under whose obedience, at that time, the Benedictines of those countries governed.  
S. Anselm replied not a word hereunto, and being guided by Lanfrancke they both went their ways immediately towards the Archbishop: And so great was the devotion and credit, which the good youth gave to his Master, as that passing through a great wood, betwixt Bec and the said City of Rouen, if Lanfrancke would but have said the word, that he would doubtless have obeyed him therein. Being come to the Prelate Maurilius, they both together proposed the occasion of their journey unto him, & the difficulty which S. Anselm felt, in choosing a state of life. Whereto without delay, the Archbishop answered, that surely the Monastical Profession was the better, and most secure of all. To this answer, gave S. Anselm very humbly his consent, and laying all care aside, having dispensed his patrimony, as best seemed unto him; he became Monk in the same Monastery where S. Lanfrank was Prior; whose Abbot was called Herlwin, a person of good years, and of much esteem, as well for his rare virtues, as also for having built and founded that Monastery at his own cost, & charges.  
S. Anselm being entered into this Academy of Christian Philosophy, and heavenly exercises, on the 27. year of his age, endeavours with great judgement and attention to imitate (as we also read of S. Antony) all the qualities, which he discovered to be more noble and perfect in every one; through observation whereof, and with divine assistance, walking apace from virtue to virtue, he became within the term of three years, a most clear mirror of Religion. So as S. Lanfranke being assumpted to the government of Cadom, S. Anselm was immediately substituted to him in the Priory of Bec: which dignity hindered him not awhit, from his wont meditations, but rather continually recollecting himself, so much the more, he raised himself to the understanding of most high mysteries, and solued such Theological questions, as till that time had never been treated before: wherein he was not so much assisted with intense speculation, as with purity of hart, and right intention which he had to expound the purity of divine scripture, to the common benefit of all, and to defend the verityes of the Catholic faith against the malignant.  
But among other knots that straytned him most, and held him in suspense, one was, In what manner the Prophets had seen at once both things past, and to come, as they had been present with them; and in what manner, with so much firmness and resolution, they have been able to preach and write them. In which passage while one night he was plunged before the hour of Matins: behold from his bed with his eyes towards the dormitory, and temple he clearly sees through the walls themselves, the Sacristans and the other Officers, about the Altar and Choir, to prepare the books, to light the candles, and lastly one of them to take the rope, and to ring the bell, and at the pulse, all the Monks to rise from their beds, to go to the Office. At which revelation, marveling not a little, he came to comprehend, how easy a thing it was to God, to show the Prophets in spirit the things most remote and distant from them, since to him it was afforded so to behold them with the eyes of the body, there being so much distance of place, and so many impediments and obstacles between. In this manner came S. Anselm to be cleared of the doubt, which tormented him so much.  
But that which more imports, there was afforded him from heaven, a discretion of spirits, so judicious and subtle withal, as he easily dived, and penetrated into the customs and inclinations of each sort of persons; and arrived sometimes so far, as to know the most hidden secrets of hearts, and to discover moreover with extraordinary light, the very origens, and seeds, and proceedings of all virtues and vices; and finally to demonstrate with most clear precepts and examples, in what manner to purchase the one, and eschew the other. To this so great liberality of God, corresponded he with all due thankfulness and promptness to serve him, & with the exact custody of himself from all that, which might any ways make him unworthy and uncapable of so high favours. In fasting he had now got such an habit, that how long so ever he differred his repasts, he neither felt hunger in expecting, nor took any delight in the meat he eat: And yet did he feed as other men do, as knowing he could not otherwise sustain himself, but did it sparingly, and so without sensuality, as he not only abhorred all daintyes and delicacyes, and gusts of the palate, but seemed (as we said) as if in him, the sense of tasting had quite been lost and extinct.  
As for sleep, his holy occupations, and continual labours gave him but a very small time, answering and assisting every one, that made their recourse to him for counsel and direction. In which things the divine man would be spending, not only the hours of the day, but even those of the night also: and by night beside, he would attend, partly to amend, and correct books, which were dangerously marred, and corrupted; partly in meditating the life of his Redeemer, and contemplating the eternal Beatitude, through desire whereof, he would shed whole floods of tears, as likewise he would do for his own defects, and through compassion of the sins of his neighbour, together with the miseries of this life, and the eternal loss of souls; insomuch as many nights he would often pass over without any sleep at all: and if perhaps he but chanced to shut his eyes, it would be but even a little before the hour of matin's, when how affectuous he would be in prayers, & united with the divine goodness, the prayers which he made at the instance of his friends and devotee's, set down in writing, declare sufficiently.   

S. Anselm was envied much for his promotion to the the Priory, especially by one Osborne a Monk, who was afterwards reconciled to him; and dying appears S. Anselm, and revealed his estate unto him. Chap. 4.  
AMong all the virtues, and praises, which are recounted of the holy man, to me none seem more worthy of consolation, & imitation then the dexterity, & charity which he used in the government and instruction of his subjects. To which purpose, we are to understand thus much, that as soon as he ascended to the Priorship, he wanted no few enuyers and persecutors; to whom it seemed an intolerable thing, and very unworthy, to be subjected so, to the obedience of one, that might well be called a Novice. Against the perverseness, & malice of these, S. Anselm opposed himself with all offices of benignity, that might be, and particularly unto one, very young of years. by name Osborne. This man being endowed with a rare wit, and of great hability, employing his talents ill, and abhorring the interior discipline & service; had conceived an aversion & hateful rancour against the holy Pastor, & stuck not to exercise the same, both openly & closely when occasion served. Which malignity of his, though S. Anselm for himself, not much regarded: yet was he sorry so noble a Subject, of whom otherwise so much fruit might well be expected, should, through diabolical operation, be so lewdly seduced, and as it were, utterly lost.  
Now then to reduce him into the right way, first he sought by all means possible, to gain his good will, and to win him to be confident. For which end he began to make exceeding much of him, to dissemble with his errors, to grant him whatsoever was possible, without the manifest damage of the Order, and finally to omit nothing that might any ways seem to tame, and relent that so fierce and unbridled wit of his. The youth took complacence at such deportements of S. Anselm towards him, and by little and little being mollifyed and vanquished with so much humanity; began to be affected to him, and to take his fatherly advices in good part, and even voluntarily to compose himself to all modesty and gravity. Which the wise rector perceiving, he proceeded to favour him more than ever, to prevent his necessities, not to suffer him to want any thing; and withal to praise that improvement and fruit which he noted in him, and sweetly to exhort, & pray him withal, continually to pass from good to better. From hence he went untying him by little and little, from his accustomed levityes, and very dexterously revoked again those former indulgences which heretofore he afforded him, and by all means endeavoured to reduce him to reason and religious maturity.  
When as afterwards he saw himself to be fully possessed of him, continually restraining him more and more, he failed not to cut of quite that childishness, which seemed as yet to remain in him: and if he had noted him to relapse at any time into errors, he would chastise him, not only with words, but with pennances also. Which new severity, was supported by Osborne, with admirable patience, being now assured and most secure of the fatherly bowels of S. Anselm, and of the amorous affect whence it seemed to proceed. In sum, with wholesome and fit remedies, that youth, who seemed so incorrigible before, came now to be amended and reform in such manner, as look what disquietness and scandal he had given before, he now gave as great example, and edification to all: When as thus cured in his soul, through divine disposition he fell grievously sick.  
Then did the good Pastor, show no less diligence, in helping the exterior man, then before he had used towards the interior: so as he served him in person, in supplying him his meat & drink with his own hands, & with extreme solicitude, providing him of all things necessary, to rid that subject of his infirmity, of whom now a good while since, he had promised to himself, great matters for the divine service, and the good of Religion. But this pious industry of the Servant of Christ, had not the desired end; since it pleased the divine Majesty, to cut of the thread of Osborns' mortal life. Whereat S. Anselm grieving with most tender affect (as much as Christian virtue suffered) in the hour of his passage, dear entreated him, that if it were possible, after his death, he would give him some tidings of him. The dying man did promise as much, and so expired.  
The body, according to the use being socked, clothed, & then laid forth on a beer, was carried into the Church; while the Monks sat singing of the wont psalms about the same. S. Anselm in the mean time to make his prayer more attentive and fervent, retired himself into a place somewhat a part from the others: here while with tears, and sighs he begs of our Lord, the salvation of that soul, being oppressed with sorrow & heavynes and his eyes now shut, he fell into a slumber: and in that repose, beholds in spirit certain venerable persons, dressed up in white garments, to be entered in the chamber of the deceased, and there to sit down to judge him. But not knowing, what sentence they had passed upon him, & expecting with great anxiety to understand the success of that judgement; behold Osborn appears on a sudden, in face not unlike to one that returns to himself again, after a trance, or fit of fainting. Whereat S. Anselm said presently to him: What is the matter son? How it is with thee now? The other answered: The ancient Serpent hath risen up thrice against me, and thrice hath it fallen upon his own head, & the Bear-heards of God have delivered me: after which words S. Anselm opened his eyes, and Osborn vanished.  
This answer the dead man gave, and S. Anselm himself, afterwards interpreted the same in this manner: That thrice the ancient Serpent arose against Osborne; because first, he accused him of sins committed after Baptism, before he had been offered up by his Parents into the Monastery: secondly for those, which he had committed after his entry into the Monastery, and before the making of his vows: in the third place, for those whereinto he had incurred after his vows, even to his death. But thrice again, was the accuser defeated; because the errors of the world, had been canceled in virtue of the Faith, and oblation of his Parents, when they presented him devoutly to the divine service: those of the Noviciate, were remitted him in the new consecration of himself by means of his vows. The faults which he had committed after the vows, were pardoned him somewhat near to his passage, by means of confession and penance: So as the devil, finding all his quarrels frustrate, being wholly confounded, was quite defeated, since all the instigations and subtilityes he had used to make that soul to fall into sin, had redounded to his own more grievous torment, and greater damnation.  
As for the Bear-heards of God, they are (said he) good Angels: for that, as they tame the bears, so do these restrain the malignant spirits, from the cruelty and impetuosity, wherewith they use to rush on, to the destruction of souls. After all these things, to show himself a true friend, and father of his Osborne, no less after his death then before, he said every day a Mass for him, though the whole year following. And if sometimes, he were hindered from celebrating at all, he would seek for some other, to supply the same, promising to do as much for that Priest, when he was requested. Besides which, he did send letters into diverse parts to procure sufrages and sacrifices for the same intention, and thereby obtained a great number of them. Whence it followed, that not only the deceased party felt (as is verily believed) either opportune refreshment, or accidental joy: but even also the living took excellent example of so burning and continual charity of S. Anselm; yea even his very enemies tempered themselves, who before could not look on him with a good eye; & at last overcome & touched with the perpetual tenor of such goodness, took so great an affection to the holy man, as from murmurers and emulous, they became followers and proclaimers of his rare virtues. Although indeed to bring things to those terms, a certain strange accident of no small moment, happened to one of those enemies of the blessed Pastor, that immediately follows.   

A certain ancient Monk, and great Enemy of S. Anselm, at his death, was tormented with a dreadful vision, which S. Anselm driveth away with the sign of the Crosse. And how he gave himself to the training up of Youth. Chap. 5.  
THere was one very ancient in Religion, who with implacable disdain never ceased to bite and molest the good Father, and by no means could never endure him, much less reverence & acknowledge him in the place of Christ. Now then, through the just judgement of God it happened this miserable wretch fell sick to death; and one night while all the Monks were in bed, he began to give forth very dreadful cries, & to seek as it were, to shun the sight of some horrible figures; became very pale of visage, and full of trembling and great anxiety, and would withal be turning his head on this side, and that side, to hide himself. At these noises, his neighbours being now awakened, came suddenly in haste to ask what he ailed. You behold me (said he) afflicted and distressed thus within the paws of two most ravenous wolves, which are now even ready to strangle me, and demand you of me, what I ail? One of them that was present hearing this, by name Ricolfus, who was the Secretary of Convent, without delay went running to S. Anselm, who at that time was correcting of a book, and presently informed what passed with the sick man.  
At which news, the venerable Prior being touched with his accustomed clemency, bad Ricolfus return back to the sick-man: and he in the mean time recollecting himself a little, overtook him in the Infirmary, and lifting up his hand, made the sign of the Cross upon him, saying: In nomine Patris, & Filij & Spiritus Sancti. With which sign, the Wretch was suddenly quiet, and being somewhat cheerful in face, with most in ward affect of the hart, began to give thanks to the divine Goodness: and added withal, that sovereign sign he had seen to come forth of his mouth, as a fiery lance, which being brandished against those wolves, had so terrified them, as made them suddenly to fly away.  
Then S. Anselm, sweetly approaching to him, dealt with him seriously of matters concerning the salvation of his soul, & brought him to a great compunction, and true confession of all his offences committed against God: and after he had given him the absolution, told him plainly, he should render up his spirit, about nine of the clock: and so indeed it fellout, to the great astonishment of all. From hence forward, S. Anselm with a great deal more ease, began to administer the office: in which, as one that sought to promote to perfection all those, whom he had under his charge; so with particular application, he laboured especially in the help of youth, and alleged this reason for it: That even as wax, when it is too hard, or too soft, takes not very well the impression upon it, but if it be well tempered between the hard and soft, it most faithfully receives the print of the Seal; so just, do we see it to happen in the age of a man.  
Take you one who from his infancy to his old age, hath been always bred up in the vanities of the world, and begin to deal with him then of spiritual conceits, of contemplation, of celestial things, and of such other like discourses, and you shall find him to be not able to conceive hardly, much less to put your advices in practice, and due execution. Nor is it any wonder, since the wax is hardened, nor hath he spent his years in such practices, & hath always had other objects, and other designs. On the contrary side, take me a child, both tender of years, and of conscience, and who cannot as yet discern the evil from the good, the very same shall happen with this, as with the other, the wax is too soft, and liquid for it, it admits no characters, or images. Betwixt these two then, the youth stands in the midst, as temperately composed of stiff and tender. Do thou endeavour, to instruct such a one, and thou shalt imprint in his mind, what thou wilt. Which thing I noting (said S. Anselm) do employ myself with the more assiduity and follicitude, in training up of youth, and do labour from their souls to extirpate all the roots of vices, and to plant the virtues in place of them: that being purged in this manner and well tempered, they may come to represent more to the life, the true image of a perfect man. And these were the principal motives of S. Anselm, for the education of youth.   

S. Anselm sueth to the Archbishop of Rouen, to be discharged of his Office, but is denied. Together with a Vision of Ricolfus concerning him. Chap. 6.  
IN the mean time, occupations and affairs continually increasing, and sorely oppressing the Man o●… God; he held himself to be so much disquieted and distracted therewith from interior exercises of the mind (which happened not so to him at the beginning) as he went for counsel a new to the aforesaid Archbishop of Ro●… before whom, he unfolded the occasion of his coming, and bitterly bewailing his peace and tranquillity lost thereby, be sought him, that he might be disburdened with all expedition of the charge. Whereto the Archbishop, being a person of much judgement and sanctity withal, thus answered: Do not, my dearest son, make instance to forgo the charge, not do thou seek to subtract thyself from helping others, to attend to thyself only: for I tell thee, in good sooth, that I have heard heretofore of many, and seen some also, who having under the colour of their proper quietness, abandoned the pastoral cure, & by that occasion being fallen into 〈◊〉, have likely gone from evil to worse. Which to the ed the same may not fall upon thee likewise (which God forbid) I command thee in virtue of holy Obedience, to retain to thee still the Prelacy which thou hast, nor to suffer thyself to be induced any ways to depose the same, unless the Abbot do enjoin thee to it. And if thou shalt be called hereafter to any greater charge, that thou do not refuse by any means to accept thereof: Because I know very well, thou art not like to stay any long time, in that wherethou art, but shalt shortly be advanced to a higher degree.  
To these words said S. Anselm: Then woe to me poor miserable wretch: I am ready to faint with the present burden, and yet when another more weighty shall be laid upon me, I may not refuse the same! These sighs of S. Anselm, moved not the wise Archbishop a whit, but rather with the same severity, he rehearsed to him again the same precept, which he had given him. In this wise the Servant of Christ, perceiving himself to be quite excluded from that which he wished, failed not at last to conform his own to the divine will: and returning home, with new fervour & new purposes gave wholly himself to cherish & increase the more solid virtues in his Monks. To which effect, knowing very well of what importance was the union and communication together of the subjects, with the Superior; he pursued with all the means, that well he might, to procure to himself the love of each one, and that particularly with showing of true compassion and tenderness to the sick, and indisposed; so as he stuck not to enter often into the Infirmary himself, and there not only with sweet countenance and gracious words to comfort the afflicted; but even also (as we said of Osborne) to serve them, and prepare them their diet & food with his own hands, and with diligence to find out the state of each one, and that which most would be gustfull, and pleasing to them.  
Through which dealing of his, the bitterness and detractions not only ceased, if there were any yet left, but there followed a thing, which may truly be called, the very health of religion; to wit, a confidence, and a certain conjunction of the members with the head, and that so straight, and so great withal, as there was not any, who not suddenly to manifest his secrets, and each passion, & thought which he had in his breast to the good Prior, as a child would do to his sweetest Mother. With which security, and sweet familiarity would S. Anselm be curing of the inward wounds, and remedying the temptations of his Monks, and that with so much more ease, as their consciences were made more manifest and palpable to him. So as by this means, S. Anselm came continually to be held in greater grace and reverence with all men.  
And this good conceit of theirs, increased so much the more, through a certain marvel, which newly happened to the above named Ricolfus. This man, while he went one night through the Cloister, observing the hour of rising of the Monks to Matins, in passing by good hap before the Chapter-doore, peeped in with his eyes, and beheld S. Anselm in prayer, environed round as with a flaming circle of fire. Ricolfus was astonished at the sight, & after he had a little thought with himself what it should be, he resolved to hie him to the Fathers celll, when seeing no body there, he returned to the Chapter again, and found there the Prior as before, but without the said flame, yet most assured the while, of that which at first he beheld so clearly.   

S. Anselm in a case of necessity miraculously procures a fish from the River near by: And with the spirit of Prophecy foretells an accident to come. Together with the Books which he wrote.  
ON a certain day, S. Anselm being sent unto, by a principal Lord of Normandy, to come and deal with him about certain affairs, he refused not to go; and having discoursed with him, till the Evening, he was not invited at all by the Prince, to lodge there that night, though the Monastery of Bec, were far from thence. Which the Man of God perceiving, without speaking a word thereof to any, took his leave, and departed thence, not knowing where to lodge. In the mean time, meeting with one of the Monks, of his own Order, he asked him, Whither he went, and were they might harbour and retire themselves that night? The other answered: Father, we have a house indeed, not far from hence, but there is no refection to be had for you, and your company, save only bread and cheese.  
Then said S. Anselm, with a cheerful countenance: Doubt you not good brother; go thy ways then before, and cast a net into the river there, and thou shalt presently find fish enough for us all. So did the Monk without any doubt a whit, and calling in haste, a fisherman to him, bade him to throw in his net. Now was it indeed neither time, nor place for such a draught, and therefore the fisherman laughed at such a bidden thing, and took himself to be mocked at by the Monk. But at last, being thereunto constrained, as it were though his prayers and persuasions, he resolved to obey; and behold against all hope, came forth of the water a Trout of an uncouth bigness, with another little fish also: So as that fish was more then enough for S. Anselm, and his company.  
That other accident differed not much from this which happened to him in another house of a dear friend of his, called Walter Tuel, who being sorry for want of fish, and with words of courtesy excusing himself, for not having provision worthy of such a guest; S. Anselm smiled, and replied: There is now a Sturgeon brought in unto you, and do you complain for want of delicacies? As yet Walter verily believed he had but jested with him, and would by no means give any credit to it, when behold, two of his men came & entered into the house with a Sturgeon, the greatest they had seen a long time, being found (as they said) by the Stepheards upon the banks of the river of Alteia. Whence, though in a base and material subject, yet may it well be gathered, that S. Anselm, amongst other gifts of heaven, had likewise the spirit of Prophecy.  
About the same time, he composed three very subtle Treatises: one of the Truth, another of Freewill, the third of the Fall of the Devil. By which treatises, may well appear, wherein he had truly fixed his mind, though by such considerations and labours, he never subtracted himself from the care & consolation of his Monks. He wrote also another book, which he entitled, The Grammarian, wherein he introduceth a Scholar to dispute with him; he also in that book goes soluing of many Logical difficulties. He annexed thereto a little Tract, which he called, by the Greek term, Monologion; for that speaking with himself alone, without meddling with quoting of the holy Scripture, with mere reasons he proves There is a God, and that by no means it can be otherwise.  
After this, it came into his mind, whether with one short argument only, that same might not be solidly proved, which is so believed and preached of God, to wit, that he is Eternal, Incommutable, Omnipotent, Incomprehensible, whole in every place, just, pious, merciful, true, or rather Truth itself, Goodness, justice, and some other attributes, and how all these things are one thing in him. This same proposition now did afford himso much to do, as partly it took away his meat, and sleep; and partly also (for which he felt the greater grief) held him exceedingly in suspense, and greatly distracted him in his Psalmody, and in the other divine Offices: and by how much more violence he used thereunto, so much the more was he troubled with the foresaid question; until such time as waking one night, it pleased the divine Mercy to illumine his understanding, and to give him the knowledge of what he desired, with so much clarity, as he felt therewith a great iubiley of hart, and a wonder full sweetness and consolation of mind. And supposing he might help others therewith (as he was far from all envy, or baseness of mind) he went suddenly about to put the thing in tables of wax (according to the use of those times) and then gave them in keeping, with great charge, to one of the Monks.  
Some days being now passed over, he demanded the same of the party himself, and suddenly they were sought for in the self same place where they had been laid, but could not be found. Whereupon good diligence was used to learn out if any of the house had taken them away, but yet could never come to have the least inkling of them. S. Anselm went about then again to make others of the same matter, and with especial recommendation gave them in charge to another of his Monks. He hides them in the secretest part of his own bed: and the next day, beyond all suspicion, finds them all to pieces on the ground, and the wax, with the characters, scattered here & there. He gathers them up as they were, & brings them to S. Anselm, who endeavours the best he could to set the pieces together and fits them at last with much ado, so as they might be read, and so kept them close united together. And to the end the same might happen no more, he causes them to be transcribed in parchment: and from thence, he drew afterwards a Volume, though little in bulk, yet great and very admirable in conceits & speculations, and called it Prosologion, wherein he discoursed either with God, or with himself. Which little Work, being written against, by a learned man, S. Anselm seemed to rejoice the●…, and to yield thanks to the Censor, but made notwithstanding his Apology for it, and sent it back to the said friend, beseeching him, or any other whosoever, that should once go about to tax the aforesaid doctrine, not to publish the reprehension without likewise annexing the defence.   

A most pious, and Excellent Epistle of S. Anselm, to a certain Launceknight, who was newly entered into the Monastery of Clunie. Chap. 8.  
With all these occupations, as well of government, as also of more graver studies, the Servant of God neglected not to write also sundry letters of edification: Of one of which, we will here insert a chapter, about the subject of mutation of place, to the end it may appear, how much the same was impugned by this holy man, when it is not done through Obedience, or for some important occasion. He wrote then among other things, some advices to a certain Launceknight, who was newly entered into the Convent of Clunie, of the tenor following.  
Thou art now entered, my dearest, into the lists and warfare of Christ, in which it behoves thee, not only to resist the open battles of the Enemy, but to beware likewise of the subtle trains, which lie hid under the show of a good spirit. Because many times, when the wicked adversary cannot come to overthrow a Novice, with objects of manifest sin, he seeks to ruin and murder him with the poison of false, but probable and apparent reasons: and so being not able to induce him to the hearted of Religion, and the Institute which he hath made choice of, at least he endeavours to make the conversation, and dwelling tedious to him where he abides for the present: and though in some manner, he permit to retain yet the Monastical life; notwithstanding he ceaseth not by a thousand ways, to make the simple and foolish to imagine, that he knew not what he did, when he took then abit in such a place, or under such Superiors, or else in such a community, and this to the end, that making the wretch by these means, ungrateful for the benefit of his Vocation, through the just judgement of God, he may not only not go forward, but even also have much ado to hold his vocation, and to conserve himself in his good purposes. Because the mind being once distracted into melancholy thoughts, either of changing the residence, or if this cannot be, at least of reprehending and blaming the foresaid causes of his determination, he hath no power to recollect himself, nor to aspire to that term of virtue, whereto he ought to extend himself with all his forces. The cause is, for that the foundation being once ungrateful to him, he knows not how to erect any frame of building thereon. Whence it followers, that even as a young tree, being often ●…ansplanted, or disquieted and shaken with many encounters, can not take any deep root, nor commodiously suck in the moisture and nourishment of the earth, to give forth the desired fruit in time: so the unhappy Monk, if he seem to remove himself, now here now there of his own mere appetite, and not though any disposition of Superiors, or else even remaining still where he is, permits himself to fall into tediousness and disgust; he can never come to be well grounded in divine love, & consequently being dry and languishing in every action of religion, he shall finally remain very poor and despoiled of the fruits of good works: & he seeing himself withal, to proceed from evil to worse (if so he note the same) shall lay all ways the fault thereof on others, and by this means abhor every day, more and more, even those with whom he liveth and converseth.  
For which cause, whosoever will be a good Religious man indeed, it behoves him, that look into what Monastery he hath been first admitted, and dedicated to the divine Service (if in that place be no manifest danger to offend the divine goodness) with all study and attention he endeavour to establish himself there, and there to found himself in true Charity, and to beware by any means from judging the manners of the place, whether they be public or private, profitable or unprofitable, so that openly they stand not against the precepts of God. But rather, rejoicing for having found where to abide in the service of Christ, that he put away from himself all manner of suggestion, to remove else whither; but with the greatest quiet that may be, he seek to attend unto pious and devout exercises. And if peradventure, it may seem to him, that he hath regard to greater matters, & of more evident profit, than such as are practised in that Convent there; let him think, that perhaps he is deceived, in preferring things that are equal, before all others; or else in presuming, or promising too much of himself: and if he cannot be brought to leave of that opinion, at least let him believe, he hath not deserved what he desires.  
And if further he note he were deceived; let him give many thanks to the divine clemency, in defending & setting himself free from such an error, and for that he hath not suffered him, without gain, or perhaps rather with loss, in proving another habitation, and some other manner of government, to fall into the blame of levity, or lack of wit; or else, by embracing of things too hard, in a very short time to become wearied, and fall into the former state, if not a worse. But if he truly desireth a thing more perfect indeed, and more conformable to him, let him make account, that for his sins, he hath not deserved the same; and let him patiently, suffer the divine judgement therein, which never denies any one any thing, unjustly. And in sum, let him shun the offences of the divine Majesty, through murmur or muttering, but take in good part, and endure all with a sweet and holy peace, least persevering otherwise, he come to exasperate the just judge, and so remain excluded from that which as yet he hath not received, and lose perhaps, what he holds already, or else to possess it without any profit at all. But howsoever he do feel upon himself, either the mercy or judgement of God, in any case let him cheerfully give him thanks, and in all, and through all, acknowledge that infinite benignity of his. And since he hath the grace to retire himself, into the Port (whatsoever) from the perilous storms and tempests of the world, let him now avoid to open in the Port itself any entry to the impetuous winds of impatience, and mutability; that the Soul abiding in the Lee, or harbour of constancy and meekness, may remain firm and intentive jointly, and wholly to the solicitude of fear, and the gust of divine Love; the one of which through caution conserves the hart, the other with sweetness, even perfects the Mind.  
I am not ignorant, how this matter would require more commodity of writing, or of discourse by word of mouth, to give you to understand with what subtiltyes in this matter of temptation, the ancient Serpent is wont to make the ignorant Monk to fall into his s●… on the contrary, with what reasons and advices, the wise Religious may dissolve and defeat his malicious persuasions. But for that I have exceeded the brevity already, which an Epistle requires, and that whatsoever I have said, or can otherwise say, consists wholly to conserve this repose, and tranquillity of the Soul; it shall suffice me for this time, to have proposed for your good what succinctly I have done already. Nor would I have you for this to imagine, that I hold you for unquiet or malcontent: but forasmuch, as Don Orsion obliged me to give you some advertisements, I know not how to afford you a better and more wholesome one, then for a man to stand on his guard, in this kind of temptation, which I know is secretly wont to enter into some Novices, and quite to overthrow them. So as (my friend, and most beloved Brother) behold how your dearest friend doth counsaye, admonish, and pray you, with the whole bowels of his hart, that with all the forces of your mind, you attend to the foresaid quiet of the hart, without which, it is impossible to discern the snare of the treacherous Enemy, nor yet to penetrate with the eyes of the understanding, the most straight and narrow way of virtue. To which tranquillity, may no Religious, ever arrive without constancy and meekness, which meekness is the inseparable companion of patience: nor less shall he ever attain thereto, if he resolve not, to observe and reverence all the orders, and institutes of his Monastery not repugning to the divine Law, though he see not the foundation of them, nor the reason why they were introduced, and prescribed. Farewell, and the blessed God direct & guide you in all your actions with perseverance; so as, in the habit of justice, you may one day appear in his sight, and fully be satisfied, when he shall manifest his glory.   

A pretty Dialogue, between S. Anselm, and another Abbot, concerning the training up of youth. Chap. 9  
THe like instructions gave the divine man in writing according to the occurrences that happened. Nor were those same less replenished with heavenly wisdom, which in diverse occasions, as we have touched above, he delivered by word of mouth: Whereof likewise for fuller satisfaction of the Reader, we will not spare to set down some one example. It was the common custom in those times, for Noblemen, as it were throughout all 〈◊〉 ●…ndome, to put their children of tender age into the Convents or Monks, partly to consecrate them perpetually unto Religion; and partly also to take them forth again, being piously trained up, for the benefit of the common wealth. Now it chanced that a certain Abbot, in great opinion of Sanctity, discoursing with S. Anselm, of Monastical government, among other things, came to speak of these youths, to which purpose, he used these words: Tell me I pray, good Father, what we shall do with them, they are so perverse and incorrigible; we never cease day and night from beating them, and yet still they grow worse and worse. Whereat S. Anselm, making a show of some wonder, answered. You never leave beating them: and when hereafter they come to be elder, what prove they then to be? Even dolts, said the other, and very beasts. Then S. Anselm: O how well then, do you bestow the pains to make beasts of men. And what can we do withal, replied the Abbot? We seek by all means to constreyn them to their profit, & it boots nothing. Do you form them, or one, replied S. Anselm?  
Do but tell me a little Father Abbot: If you set but a plant in your garden, and bind it up presently on every side, so as it can not extend the branches any way: if you go after a year to take away the binder from it, how shall you find it? Certainly with the boughs crooked, intricate, and involved. And who then should be in fault thereof, but yourself, who so immoderately restrained the same? Just so succeeds it with your pupils. They are planted by the oblation of their friends in the Garden of the holy Church to grow up, and to give forth good fruits to God. But you, with terrors, menaces, and stripes, do even so straighten them, as that the poor wretches have not a jot of liberty. So as being indiscreetly wrung and oppressed, they produce and cherish in themselves, but ill discourses, which in manner of wreathed thorns, so grow & settle in them, as there is after no remedy to be found, or prop to sustain and hold them up, & to make them grow out strait again. And for that, they find no spark of love or pity in you, nor any tenderness or sweetness towards them, they cannot frame any good conceit of you, but do rather verily persuade themselves, that all your doings spring from hatred and malignity in you. And hence very miserably proceeds it, that the more they grow in body, so much the more increase they in aversion and jealousies, being always inclined and ready to fall into all sorts of vices; and as in none they find any signs of true charity, so can they not regard any one, but with an eye a skew, and quite awry.  
But for the love of God, I would feign have you tell me, what is the cause you are so strange & harsh unto them? For are they not I pray, men, and of the same nature that you are? And would you, if you were in their place, think it well to be dealt with, in this wise? but be it, as you say, that you have no other intention with you in such your rigours, but only to make them good. Did you ever in your life, behold a Gold smith to frame with blows and beat only, any goodly figure of some mass of gold or silver? I believe not. What then? For to shape it with his instruments, now beats he it, and presseth it gently, and then with a discreet relieve, raises he it up, and frames it as he list. So, if you will seem to introduce any good form of manners into youth, it behoves you together with the depressions of penance to use some indulgences and helps withal of a fatherly tenderness and love. To this point, the Abbot. What indulgences, (said he) what helps? We continually labour to constrain them to virtue. And S. Anselm: It is well: and so even bread, and other solid food, are good and wholesome to such as are able to digest the same. But do you try a while to give it to a sucking child, and you shall see it rather to be choked, then said therewith. Wherefore I need not tell it you, it is so clear. But this I do affirm, that as sickly and strong bodies, have their difference and proportionable food: so the weak and more feeble souls, require a food which is agreeable to them, in measure and quality. The strong and able are fed, and delighted with the solid and substantial food, that is, with Patience in tribulations, with breaking of the appetite, with exhibiting the left cheek to him that strikes them on the right, praying for one's enemies, with loving their persecutors, and with other the like. But that Soul, which is feeble as yet, in the divine service, had need of tender milk, that is, to be entreated with sweetness, with mercy, with a cheerful countenance, with patience full of charity, & with such like carriages. If you would but accommodate yourself in this manner with your feeble, and able ones, with the grace of God, what in you lies, you would gain all. With these words, the Abbot, being finally convinced and touched withal, began to sigh, and said: We surely, Father, have erred all this while from the right way, and to us hath the Sun of discretion, as yet not risen. Heerupon being prostrate on the ground, he confessed he had hitherto done ill; and with craving pardon for what was passed, promised to amend hereafter.   

Another Dialogue between S. Anselm, and a certain procurator of a Monastery. Chap. 10.  
Upon a time, there came to the holy man, a procurator of the same Order, who bewailed (as it happens now and then) his hard misfortune; for that being touched heretofore by heavenly inspiration, he had left the world to serve God, and now through obedience, was constrained again to leave God, to attend unto the world. For as much, as the care of conserving of rents, of following suits, of reviewing of accounts, and of other such like secular affairs, did leave him no tymeat all to recollect the powers & faculties of his Soul, for contemplation of celestial things; but put him rather in continual danger of offending the divine Majesty, in diverse manners. To which complaint, S. Anselm answered, with the comparison following: The whole life of man, may be well likened to a water Mill, seated on a swift river. Let there be then many miller's belonging to this mill, some so negligent, as to let the meal fall into the water; others, to retain part, and part again to let pass away; and some also, that gather up all, and lay it up, according as it is fit. Of this number, it is manifest, that he who hath reserved nothing, shall find but little, he that hath held & saved all, shall be able to maintain himself more plentifully.  
This Mill, as we said, may well be understood this present life: the Meal represents the actions of men. Because, that even as when the Mill works, it goes always round, and is ever continually wheeling about in itself; so likewise, human actions for the most, return unto their stations. As for example: Men plough, men sow, men reap, men grind, they make bread, they eat. Behold the Mill hath fetched a compass. What then, doth it now stand still? No truly, because it returns again to the foresaid tilling, sowing, reaping, grinding, making of bread, and nourishing withal. These things are exercised every year: and like a Mill fetch again the same compass, and turn about. Let us now take one, that doth all his works for terren ends, and who in them hath no regard but to transitory things: this man, truly grinds and works indeed; but all the meal, which should be the fruit of his labours, through the course of secular desires, comes to be drowned, and carried quite away. This man, at the end of his life, when he shall turn back from the Mill to his house, and that he would fain feed on something, shall find nothing to eat, because the vehement stream hath carried away the meal: Whence, woe to the wretch, for he is like to fast eternally.  
Behold another, who looseth not the whole meal altogether; because now he gives some alms, now he goes devoutly to visit Churches, and the sick, and now he buries the dead, and so doth some other such like works. But yet when this very person forbears in nothing to give himself to all sensuality, to be avenged of injuries received, to take complacence in human praises, and that he cannot rid himself quite of impure and disordinate affects, the wretch looseth, ere he is aware, the greater part of the meal. And what shall become of him then in the other life, but even to receive rewards, according as he hath behaved himself?  
Let us now pass to the third quality of men; and let us engine it to be within religious. Suppose, when a Monk who hath made the Vow of Obedience, and what in him lies, desires not to go forth of the Cloister for any temporal business whatsoe●…, Such a one then, is enjoined by his Superior to go abroad, to have care of some possession of the Convent; the good man excuseth himself, and prays he may not be forced thereunto. And yet the Abbot still persevers, and urges his going thither. So as the subject, being not able to resist, doth what he is commanded. Behold he comes to the Mill, and needs must he grind. There arise complaints here and there, with murmurs and contentions. here now the prudent Monk is to look well to his meal, and to receive it warily into his sack, and not to let it fall into the Curren●… and how this? Let him do nothing out of vanity: Let him not be drawn to any manner of injustice, for any gain whatsoever. Let him execute Obedience in such manner, as he stiffly defend with good reason all the Ecclesiastical goods; but withal not seek to increase them by unlawful ways. If he walk in this manner, though he be sometimes enforced not to hear Mass, to break silence, and other such like observances; Yet the virtue of holy Obedience, consummates all these defects, and with his sa●… both whole & sound, he conserves all his meal, whence after he shall have plenty enough to feed on for all eternity: because such a one walks not according to his Self-will, but answerable to that of his Superiors, by means whereof, as the Apostle saith, he comes to escape damnation.  
Being now come to this passage, the procurator demanded anew: & what then should we think of that Religious man, who offers himself voluntarily to such businesses, or rather practiseth them, with compliments and flatteries? Whereto S. Anselm said, such question was not to the purpose of Religious men. To which the other replying, that he always understood it with condition, to wit, that the Monk so desirous of such occupations, should not after execute any thing without leave of his Prelate; When S. Anselm answered: This leave hath deceived many such: because that in the matter, which we now treat of, there are two things wholly opposite, Obedience and Disobedience: between these two contraries, this leave stands in the midst. He then, without being constrained by Obedience to go forth of the Monastery, will yet nevertheless go forth, and by this means subtract himself from the ●…igour of the rule; though he do it with the full consent of the Superior, & so seem to justify the act, by the licence obtained; he ●…emaines yet liable to the sin of disordinate and unlawful will and desire. Because that after one hath once left the world in person, he ought not to return to it again, with desire: but yet while he would not perform it without the permission of his Superior, the Obedience whereto he tied himself, shall seem ●…ndeed to excuse the exterior fact; but that Will, which he had of ●…is own, shall cost him dear, if he do not penance in time for the same. Which some not regarding, do suffer themselves, as I said, oftentimes to be deceived through their appetite, under the show of this leave, or licence.   

S. Anselm had a vision in sleep: His fame increased every where: And through the importunity of the Abbot, was forced to take the whole Charge of the Monastery upon him. Chap. 11.  
IN this manner, went S. Anselm, as well with words, as with the pen, & that which more imports, with works, inciting all to the contempt of the world, and to the service of the eternal God. When through his many labours, being seized with a most grievous infirmity, in excess of mind, he came to have a Vision, that inflamed him much more to the desire of the eternal beatitude. For that, there seemed a very swift and swelling torrent to be represented to him, whereinto descended all the ordure and filth of the World: Which troubled, stinking, and filthy waters, with a violent force went promiscuously carrying away all things with them, which they met with on the way, with all sorts of persons, both men and women, rich and poor. S. Anselm being astonished at so foul a spectacle, demanded of one the company, Of what those miserable wretches lived, and whence they quenched their thirst? And being told they maintained themselves with that same water, wherewith they were more precipitously carried away. And how so, answered he? Is there any amongst them, that is not ashamed to swallow up such filth? Whereto the other answered. Do not you seem, Sir, to wonder heerat: This same, which you see here, is the Torrent of the world, wherein sensual men are so enwrapped, & carried away: and by and by said: Wouldst thou feign behold, what is a true Monk indeed? Yea marry would I, answered S. ●…selme. When he replied. Then look round about thee, and see the walls of a Cloister, being all lined over with the finest silver, and the grass in the midst thereof, all of Silver indeed, but soft and delicate, and most pleasant to behold. Which hath likewise another condition with all, that if one resteth thereon, it will gently seem to yield under him, and then rising again, be rising in like manner. This place so delightful to see to, seemed to please S. Anselm beyond measure: When deliberating with himself, to choose the same for his own habitation, the Guide began to ask him again, saying: Hola. Would you see now, what is true Patience●… And S. Anselm, showing forth as well with words, as gestures, a most ardent desire thereof, the Vision vanished on a suden, and 〈◊〉 returned to himself again. By such apparitions he was filled with new light, and with a new fervour of spirit.  
In this mean time, the name of S. Anselm, ran not only through out all Normandy, but even likewise through the Countries of France and Flaunders, yea and passing over the Sea, extended itself throughout all England, so as from diverse parts many noble and learned men, and Soldiers also had recourse to the divine man, and dedicated themselves to the service of God under the custody of so great a Pastor: though he with great prudence took heed of persuading them, more to this, then to that Convent, contenting himself with drawing them only in general to a Religious state, lest they entering in without any proper deliberation of theirs to some Monastery, and then finding themselves afterwards, molested with molestations, temptations, and travails, might chance to murmur, and attribute their impatience and scandal to his persuasions. Whereupon the Convent of Bec, came shortly to be amplified, both in number of subjects, and in plenty of possessions.  
And the Abbot Herlwin, being lastly arrived to extreme old age, and now become decrepit withal, discharged himself of all things (touching the government) & laid them on the shoulders of S. Anselm; expressly ordaining that he should be well provided of horses, & of all other accoutrements for journeys, whensoever his business required the same, and all should be kept as proper for his person. But he being affrighted with the name of propriety, when he returned from his journeys, would give up the same in common again; nor would he ever endure, that for his own commodity, the others should seem to suffer in any thing. And that no marvel, since even in the world itself, he was ever so amiable and courteous to all; as that when he saw his friends to want any thing, he would willingly supply them of his own, according to his ability. For even at that time also, the very light of reason, had dictated to him, that all the riches of the world, were created by the Eternal Father, for the common utility of men, and that in the law of nature, they belonged no more to one man then another. And much more, after he was offered up to God in Religion, as a perpetual Holocaust, stood he always firm and constant in voluntary poverty. Not wanted he occasions enough to exercise the same; in regard, that besides the aforesaid privileges and particularities, which in vain the Abbot Herlwin had enforced upon him; there were brought now and then, no small sums of gold and silver to spend, or keep to himself for his own commodity and pleasure, which yet the good religious man, would never yield to accept of, if they, were not presented to the Abbot himself, for the benefit and use of the whole community. And if the Benefactor himself, as it would happen now and then, replied, that he had as than no intention to bestow it on the Abbot, or Convent; he would answer, that he had no need of such things, and that, in that nature, he would receive nothing at all of any person living. With these proceedings of his, he did always yield forth a most sweet odour of himself. Whence he came to be invited unto diverse Abbeys, to make them spiritual exhortations, and to resolve their doubts, and to afford them his counsel, as well in public a●… in private affairs: Which the man of Christ would do, with exceeding edification, and good of Souls.   

Abbot Herlwin being dead, Saint Anselm is chosen in his place. He is given much to Hospitality: And goes into England to visit S. Lanfranke, and King William.  
IN the mean time, Herlwin died, and S. Anselm with the common consent of all the Convent, was elected for Successor. But he knowing the danger of such manner of dignity, for many days opposed himself with excuses & reasons as efficacious as he could, against the said election. After which, perceiving that he was not able to remove the settled determination of the Monks, lamenting and sending forth sighs, he cast himself at their feet, beseeching and conjuring them, through the bowels of the divine mercy, to leave of such a thought, and not to burden him with such weight. But they on the contrary, being prostrate before S. Anselm, besought him to have pity on the Convent, and to beware, that with such resistance he seemed not more to regard his proper commodity, than the public weal and utility. This perseverance of the Monks, together with the memory of that which was expressly commanded him, by the Archbishop of Rouen, overcame him at last: otherwise, there had been no means possible, to have brought him to accept of the Prelacy.  
Being then consecrated, without altering awhit the manner of his customs, and living; he now proceeded to promote with all diligence his subjects to the end of their vocation, and with great vigilancy provided, that the least wrong in the world might not be offered to any one, by the Officers and Procuratours, in the causes of the Monastery. Moreover in receiving, and lodging of Guests (to which work of charity, the family of S. Benet hath ever applied itself with particular industry, and praise) S. Anselm was among others most wonderful liberal, & where ability failed, he supplied the defect with a great pro●…ptnes of the will, and withal serenity and cheeerfulnes of the countenance: and likewise, sometimes in case of necessity he would be taking from the refectory itself, the meat which was prepared for the Monks, to set before strangers; though ordinarily, as he was a most prudent exactor of observance, so was he very accurate in procuring, that the Convent should suffer no want: howbeit often times, things arrived to those terms, as there would seem to be no provision left for the day following. In which cases, the Dispensiers, the Cellarians, and other the Ministers of the Monastery running with all anxiety unto the holy Abbot, he would answer them with a grave & serene countenance, that if they would but have confidence in the divine Goodness, he would not suffer them to want any necessaries, nor were they deceived awhit of his promise.  
Because, even in that very instant, or shortly after, you mig●…t have seen to come from England (where many of the possessions of their Convent lay) some ship well freighted with all manner of provision; or else some extraordinary alms to arrive from some devout person; or otherwise some wealthy m●…n to come, and enter into Religion amongst them, whereby in time what manner of want soever, or disorder in this kind, might be easily remedied. And forasmuch, as the foresaid possessions in England, for the better manage of good government, required sometimes the visits and presence of the Abbot himself; S. Anselm was fain now and then to go ●…hither, being thereunto moue●… moreover with desire to go and visit his dear, and most venerable Father and Master S. Lanfranke, who for his most excellent virtues, from the Abbot of Cadom, was assu●…pted to the archbishopric of Canterbury. Coming then to England, he was received with much joy and honour, not only in the said City of Canterbury, but in all other places wheresoever he passed. And he always according to custom, showed himself most sweet and affable to all, accommodating himself to the genius and fashions of every one; so much, as he would many times say, that he who in every thing, wherein God may not seem to be offended, endeavours to consent to the will of another, comes to merit exceedingly with the divine Goodness: that as he accords with others in the present life, so with him in the future, may God and all created things, seem likewise to accord. But he that despising the neighbour's contentment, will attend but his own gust only; shall deserve often, with the just judge, that even as in this world, he would not seem to conform himself to the will of any; so in the other, shall no man accommodate himself to his. Since even it is said by our Saviour himself, that every one, shall receive according to the measure he hath proportioned to others.  
The blessed S. Anselm now being moved with such like reasons, as we have said, did shun by all means to be troublesome & grievous to any: howbeit, now and then, he was constrained therefore to remit somewhat of the monastical severity & discipline that he used otherwise, reputing it to redound to the greater glory and service of God, to condescend rather a little now and then, with holy equity, to such Souls as he was to help, then by standing too much upon rigour, to estrange, and alienate them from his speech and conversation. Whence it followed, through the great affection, that all seemed to bear him, they came at last with a very good will to receive very wholesome and spiritual advertisements from him: Which in truth have never yet been put in print, nor always given in the same manner, but proportionable to the qualities and estate of the hearers.  
To the Monks, above all things he would give to understand they should not seem to neglect the least faults and transgressions of the Institute. And was wont to confirm the same, with a similitude of a Vivary, or Fish-trough, because that even as when the holes, or chinks are not kept well stopped within them, the water by and little goes running forth, & the fish doth even perish the while: So in religious houses, when there is no heed taken of lighter faults, by little and little, is spirit together with observance lost.  
He taught the Clerks, how they were to maintain the profession which even by name they made, of having God only for inheritance, portion & lot, and advised them to stand always upon their guard, least through negligence or tepidity, instead of possessing God, they come to inherit the Devil. To the married in like sort, he would give advertisements, very full of prudence and sanctity.  
And in this doctrine of his, the divine man proceeded not after the manner of the Masters, and deep Divines of the world, who believe they cannot seem to maintain their degree and dignity if they do not still propose very high and sublime conceits, and not so easy to be apprehended of the vulgar: But S. Anselm, quite contrary to such, by reducing the highest points to the capacity of the meaner understandings, and unfolding the obscure and intricate passages, and declaring them by images and material examples (being a thing very proper to true and absolute Wisdom indeed) and confirming them moreover with potent and manifest reasons; would seem efficatiously to engross them in the breast and heart, so as every one heard him with great cheerfulness, and recurred to him in their doubts, with the greatest confidence that might be. Nor was there in England a personage at that time of importance, that held it not a great misfortune to have had no occasion to hear, honour, and serve such a man. Yea even King William himself, who had, conquered that Nation by force of arms, and was commonly held to be fierce and cruel, showed himself to S. Anselm so human and benign, as they were all astonished at him.   

K. William the Conqueror being dead, his Son William Rufus succeeds. And Lanfrancke the Archbishop deceasing, S. Anselm is chosen in his place. Chap. 13.  
FRom this time forwards, S. Anselm was much conversant in England, and according to the occurrences that happened, he made frequent journeys thither. And among other times that he went into those parts, one was, after the death of the said King William, to whom his Son succeeded of the same name, being a person very ill inclined, and who from a King became a Tyrant: and among other iniquities of his, against all justice, he doubted not to pollute his impions hands, with the oppression of the Clergy and Religious, & with the usurpation of the goods of the Church. Whereupon it seemed good to the Earl of Chester, and to other principal Lords of the kingdom, to give him a Christian admonishment by the means of one of so great authority, as S. Anselm was; and with that occasion to comfort themselves with his presence and discourses, whom they wished to be the Physician, and Governor of their souls.  
S. Anselm then, being so earnestly invited and entreated by this Man, and many others, with the greatest instance that might be; passed over again unto Canterbury, where a little before was deceased S. Lanfrank the Archbishop, and where the Clergy and people, were in great care and desire, to supply the vacancy of that Seat, with the election of some worthy and sufficient Prelate. So as now at the appearing of S. Anselm, began to arise a general whisper in the whole City, that a new Archbishop was come already, and how they ought not to think of any other then of him. Which the humble Servant of Christ perceiving, immediately departed from thence, nor could he be induced by the prayers or entreaties of any, so much as to celebrate there on the Feast then approaching of the Nativity of the most blessed Virgin. From hence, according to the necessity of the Churches, and the request of the Peers, he refused not to go to the Court, where met with much reverence by all the Barons, & the King himself likewise, with cheerful countenance, came to receive him, even to the gate of the Palace; and after most dear kisses, and loving embraces, taking him by the right hand, he conducted him into a room thereby. Where sitting down, and some words of courtesy passing between them, S. Anselm showed his desire to have private audience with him: so as the standers by, went immediately forth, when he without touching awhit the matters appertaining to his Monastery, for which it was thought, he had principally come to Court, with Christian liberty, be 'gan to discover to the King, the sinister fame, that went of him; nor stuck he, to specify unto him many particulars, that he might the more easily come to amend them.  
The discourse being ended, he went his ways, to seek out the Earl of Chester, & was enforced to remain there for some days. In the mean while, the King fell grievously sick, & fearing death was put in mind by his followers, as soon as possible, to provide for the principal Church of the Kingdom, being then without a Pastor, which was that of the aforesaid Canterbury. And now this counsel seeming good to the King, he nominated the Abbot Anselm, and no other, for the same administration. The which declaration, was with admirable applause, received of all. The Abbot only, at the news thereof, was struck even dead, as it were; but then gathering his forces to him again, he endeavours by all means possible to resist, but not being able to prevail, against the deliberate consent of the King, and of the whole Clergy, and people, he was snatched up, and carried into the Cathedral Church, and placed in the Throne with much solémnity From thence, he was strait conducted to Winchester, and lodged in the suburbs of the City there: where while he remains in the company of Gondolfus Bishop of Rochester, and of a certain principal Monk, by name Baldwin: behold one night was a great fire enkindled in the neighbour-houses, which with fury went consuming whatsoever it met with in the way. It now approached to the house very near unto S. Anselmes' june; when some familiar friends of the Hostess or Mistress of the house, seeing so little remedy against the fire, began to carry away from thence the householdstuff, into some safer place. But the woman, being full of faith, forbade the same; very confidently affirming, there was no such cause of fear, while she had the Archbishop S. Anselm in her house. At which so generous words of hers, Baldwin being moved, entreated the holy Father, not to deny his succour to the devout Matron: but he, with accustomed modesty & humility, answered: what should I help her? & wherein I pray! Go you but forth then, the other replied, and make the sign of the holy Cross against the fire: and who knows, whether the divine Clemency may not happily extinguish it by that means? When S. Anselm replied again. What say you, by my means? You know not what you say. And yet nevertheless, for fear of the imminent danger, he went forth with the others; and in the sight of those furious flames, was constrained by the Bishop of Rochester, and Baldwin, to oppose the wholesome sign of the Cross there to. A strange thing, he had no sooner lifted up his hand, but (as likewise it is read of S. Martin) that flaming and impetuous flood of fire, retiring into itself, made a stop in its course: and the flames being extinguished on a sudden, left the buildings half burnt, so far as it had gone.   

S. Anselm endeavours to put off the charge imposed upon him, but in vain. He after falls in disgrace with the King and is banished the Court. With a miracle that happened. Chap. 14.  
AFter all these things, S. Anselm did seek very dexterously to put off from his shoulders, that new burden of the Archbishoprique: and to that end had differred till then, the acceptation thereof, and his full consent thereunto. But so great were the motives, and conjurations made of persons of each quality; together with the scruple of Obedience thereunto added, which was imposed upon him heretofore by the Archbishop of Rouen, as that in fine a consent was violently extorted from him. And so was the blessed Man, with great joy and solemnity, consecrated by all the Bishops of England, in the Metropolis of Canterbury. This consecration of his, was celebrated upon the 4. of December, on the feast of the glorious S. Barbara: when lo, the Nativity of our Saviour coming shortly after, S. Anselm went his ways to the King, to give him the accustomed salutation of the good New year: of whom he was first well entreated; but afterwards, partly out of malice, and the mere instability of the Kings own disposition, and partly by the work and instigation of wicked Courtiers and flatterers, the state of masters was quite changed: and the King's mind began with a sudden mutation to show itself much aliened from the Archbishop: while to the foresaid occasions, was likewise added another of no small moment, which was, that K. William hoping for some great present from him at his first entrance, found himself to be quite deceived of his expectation; since S. Anselm, was not willing at all to aggrieve his subjects with any exactions & loans, to satisfy the disordinate appetites of the King.  
So that perceiving him now to be angry with him, he departed from Court, and retired himself to a certain Village of his called Bregge, to finish, and dedicate there a Church for that parish, which by the death of S. Lanfranke his Predecessor was yet imperfect. In which ceremony, succeeded a notable accident: which was, that a certain Clerk, but ill disposed, coming from London, under show of assisting at the sacred office, had thrust himself into that troop: where casting his eye on the vessel of holy Oil, but ill looked to as it seemed; he began to lay his sacrilegious hands thereon, and so with silence went secretly his ways, towards his home again. He was now gone a pretty way, as he thought, when contrary to his opinion, he found himself still in the same assembly, & in the self same place from whence he had fled; whereat wondering not a little, he puts himself on the way again: & behold with in a while, finds himself still in the Church of Bregge: and so went turning his back to it again and again, until such time as the people being aware of those erring and wandering steps of his, cast their eyes on the Clerk; and at the same instant were the Deacons advised, that the vessel of Chrism was not to be found, for which there arising a great cry, upon good advice, and discreet conjecture, the foresaid Clerk was immediately apprehended, and the vessel being found about him under his cloak, with menaces and rating, he was brought to S. Anselm, who being moved with compassion towards the wretch, with cheerful countenance reprehended him Fatherly for it, and ordained, he should be let go forthwith without punishment; and immediately the Man went directly home to his house.  
This Dedication being finished, S. Anselm was very suddenly recalled again to the Court, of purpose, to give his benediction to the King before he crossed the seas. He went then presently thither: and for that, the wind in those days was very contrary unto him, he thought it his duty in the mean time, with all care and diligence, to admonish K. William again, of the great disorders & many abuses introduced into the kingdom, and to exhort him to relieve the afflicted Churches, and to help to reform the same. He did it then in the best manner he could: but the King, being now troubled already, and wholly uncapable of good counsel, not only slighted the man of God, with the Fatherly correction he gave him: but even also, with great disdain and contempt did banish him his presence. Whereupon, some wicked and insolent men present, took new courage, and boldness again to offer wrongs and injuries to Ecclesiastical persons and their goods, bearing but li●…le respect to the dignity and merits of S. Anselm himself: who being much more seen and expert in the knowledge of spirits, then in the manage of temporal affairs, partly suffered himself to be deceived, not being able to persuade himself, that any one for transitory things, would willingly lose the eternal; and partly also, was enforced to yield, having (as we said) the King for adversary, and his grievous enemy.  
So as now being wholly anxious, he never ceased to bemoan himself for the quiet and peace of a religious state; nor found he any comfort, but when he could now & then, retire himself from company, into Cloisters. Nor would he neither within the Bishoprique, nor yet without, ever live without the company & assistance of some virtuous and approved Monks, to his exceeding gust, and to the great edification of as many as knew him. Besides which, he failed not to steal some time for mere contemplation, and to remedy the troubles of the Catholic Church, by means of his most learned writings. Among which, is that work of his, most worthily renowned, which he wrote in the midst of so great afflictions upon the subject of the Incarnation of the Eternal Word: wherewith, the error of the Greeks, remained discovered and convinced, being so audacious, as to deny the Procession of the holy Ghost from the second person of the Blessed Trinity.  
Not only thus in his Cell, and studies, but even likewise at table, when they had given over reading, as a most excellent Divine, he would solve very intricate knots, & expound difficult passages of the sacred Scripture. He likewise feared so much every offence, how light soever; as he often affirmed, with sincerity, that if he had on the one side, the horror of sin before his eyes, and the pains of Hell on the other, with the necessity of being drenched or engulted in this, or that; he would doubtless make choice, rather of the infernal pains, then of the offence of God; and sooner accept of Hell, as pure and innocent, than the heavenly mansion being polluted with sin.   

What occasions S. Anselm would usually take of spiritual conceits. How K. William returns from beyond Seas: and S. Anselm goes to Rome. Chap. 15.  
THe Servant of Christ, was wont with the gift which he had of knowledge, to gather spiritual & fruitful conceits from the things which daily occurred: as once certain Servants of his, had a course at a Hare, who after she had diverse ways, very nimbly tried to escape from them, by secret instinct, came at last to squat even under S. Anselmes' horse, who suddenly thereupon made a stop, so as the dogs, not daring to set upon her, stood aloof, baying at her, expecting her starting again. At which sight, the company laughing, and making much sport, S. Anselm fell a weeping: You laugh my Masters (said he) but this poor little beast here laughs not at all, or finds any sport. Her enemies encompass her round about, and she with the agonies of death, recurres to us for succour. The same indeed succeeds very often to the reasonable soul of man, which no sooner issues from the body, but the hunters (malignant spirits) pursuing her as long as she liveth in flesh, by the diverse turnings, & crooked paths of vices and iniquities, even to the article of death, do then cruelly stand ready to snatch her away, and to cast her headlong to eternal perdition, laughing & making great sport thereat; whiles the poor wretch lies deprived and despoiled of all helps. And after these words, S. Anselm spurred on his horse, and commanded them not to molest the poor creature; when by & by having escaped the danger, she skips again into the meadows & woods from whence she had fled.  
Another day, the holy Father seeing a boy in the streets, holding in his hand, a certain little Bird, fast tied by the feet with a long third, taking much pleasure to let the third go and come now and then, and in the midst of its flight to pull it back on a sudden again, and let it fall often to the ground. Whereat S. Anselm took compassion on the poor creature, and much desired to see the bird at liberty; when behold on a sudden the third broke, and the bird flew away, and the boy cried. S. Anselm rejoiced the while, & calling to his companions: have you (said he) taken heed to the sport of the little Boy here? Whereto the others answering yea, he then replied: And now such manner of sport for all the world, the ancient adversary makes every day with many sinners; he holds them so entangled in his snares, and playing at his pleasure, precipitates them now into this, and then into that vice. As for example, some be given to avarice, or else carnality, or to some other such like miseries: To these will it happen now and then, that being touched with penance and compunction, they make reflection upon the evil life which formerly they have lead, for which they are moved to tears, & for that time make good purposes to amend themselves. And now it seems verily to them, they are lose already, & at full liberty: but yet with the third, or line of evil custom, in the very loose and jump, as it were of their flying away, they are suddenly pulled back again by the Devil, and made to fall as before into the same sins. And this thing happens very often, nor do they ever come to get forth of so abominable a servitude, till with some great violence of theirs, & with the efficacious help of divine grace, the same line comes once to be broken asunder. With such holy documents as these, the holy man, daily excited himself, and others, to the custody of the hart, and purchase of virtues.  
But to return from whence we have digressed. King William, after he had unworthily banished from his presence the venerable man, so that S. Anselm, seeing now all things to pass continually from ill to worse, without hope of any present remedy, through the occasion of obieyning his Episcopal Pall, resolved to go to Rome, & to recurre unto the Pope for help and counsel, who in those days was urban the second; for this end he went to demand licence of the King, and after many repulses, affronts, and injuries received at his hands; did finally obtain it, with condition never to put foot into England more. Heerupon, with great feeling and tears, taking his leave, first of the Monks, and then of the Clergy, and people, he went to Dover, and there embarked himself for France: but in the midst of his course, behold a contrary wind arose, in such sort as the mariners began to protest, that unless he would needs be drowned, of necessity they must be fain to turn back again from whence they came. This news, did much afflict the good Archbishop, enforcing him to say with sighs: Since then, it pleaseth the Almighty God of his just judgements to send me again back to my passed miseries, rather than to let me go whither I had intended to arrive, let his divine Majesty do with me what he thinks best, & govern and dispose of every thing, according to his good pleasure. With these words growing tender, his eyes were all bathed in tears; when through divine Clemency, the wind suddenly began to come about so as with a prosperous gale the ship arrived in France at a place called Whitsand: where they landing, was discovered another wonder, to wit, a leak in the bark of two foot broad, which through the merits of the holy man, amidst so great a tempest, and storm, had received no water.  
As soon as it was known in Court, that S. Anselm was now on the other side, King William with impious boldness, caused his possessions and goods to be seized upon in his name: he cut of all the Acts & decrees by him made in the same Dioc●…sse, & with strange injuries & wrongs stuck not to molest, and even suck out of the Church, for himself and his hungry flatterers, as much blood, as he could. In the mean time, the Servant of Christ being arrived at Lions, there rested himself a while, & from thence passed safe to Rome, being every where received of all, with much honour & reverence; and especially of the Pope himself, causing chambers to be provided him in his own Palace; and admitting him to audience, and kissing of the feet took him up, and dearly embraced him; & in the presence of all the Prelates, spoke so much good of him, as the humble man being confounded thereat, had not the hart to lift up his eyes from the ground, much less to endure such manner of discourse. Wherefore with good opportunity he declared the state of the English Churches, and particularly that of Canterbury; when the Pope with gracious words promised, to take the business to hart, & provide for the same in due tyme.   

S. Anselm being at Capua, miraculously causes water to spring up in astony soil. And goeth with the Pope unto the Council of Bari, and thence to another. Chap. 16.  
IN the mean time, by reason it was then Summer, it seemed good to the Pope, that S. Anselm, being a person of so tender complexion as he was, should retire himself from that air, into a village of the Benedictin Monks, called Schiana, not far from C●…pua. This village, was seated on the top of a high and pleasant hill, but defective of water: in somuch, as they could get none at all, but at one Well only, which was there by, on the ridge of that hill, & this also but at certain hours of the day, it remaining afterwards dry, in so much as the Guardian of the place with the inhabitants thereabout did suffer very much. Now the said Guardian conceived a great hope that though the sanctity of S. Anselm some remedy would be easily obtained from Heaven for so great a difficulty. And thereupon he determined to dig a well in his own house, howbeit the place being craggy and stony of its own nature, was very unapt for the purpose: but yet before he would put hand to the work, he prayed the Man of God to afford his benediction to the enterprise, & to be the first to open the Earth with his holy hands. Whose request S. Anselm did not resuse, but for his Hosts consolation went in person to the place designed, & making his prayer for a happy success, with a pickaxe struck the earth three times, and then gave place to others, to finish the work. When it was not long, ere there sprung up a most limpid and excellent water from the stony soil, which being enclosed within a pit of a small depth, there followed after a perpetual abundance from thence, enough to supply, not only the necessities of all those parts thereabout; but even likewise to cure the diseases and infirmities of many, who had faithfully recourse to that succour: which thing, being once diwlged, gave no small credit of more than human power to the B. Anselm, and from that time forwards it was worthily called, The Bishop of Canterbury's Well.  
here now remained the Servant of God, a pretty while, recollecting himself, and greatly attentive to divine contemplation and serious studies, to his most extraordinary delight; as seeming to him in a certain manner, he was now returned to his wont monastical life again: where (among other things) he finished a Book entitled: Cur Deus homo, which heretofore he had begun in England. In those days was Capua besieged by Roger Duke of Puglia; who moved with the fame and neighbourhood of S. Anselm, sent to invite & pray him to vouchsafe to come unto him. The holy Man went presently, and with his presence, humility, and charity, so edified the Duke, and gained so the minds of the whole army unto him, that wheresoever he showed himself, he was blessed & glorified of every one: in so much as many Saracens, being moved with his good example, & the good entertainment he gave them, were even ready to be converted to the holy Faith: and had been so indeed, if through diabolical suggestion, they had not been hindered, by a Count of Sicily, who at the instance of Duke Roger, had trained, and conducted them to that Service.  
After this, came likewise Pope Vrban himself unto the camp, and the siege being ended, S. Anselm very earnestly besought him, he would please to discharge him of the dignity, & Pontifical cu●…e, and to afford him the favour to let him retire again to his ancient quiet and religious liberty: but all was in vain, while the Pope esteemed him more worthy of a higher degree. And a little after conducted him with him to the Council of Bari, where S. Anselm by word of mouth, conformable to the doctrine he had written already, left the Greekish pride, and perfidiousness much abased, & confounded, not without the universal approbation of the Fathers, & most clear confirmation of the Catholic Faith. From thence, he returned to Rome with the Pope, who calling another Council, in that City upon the ensuing Feasts of Easter, S. Anselm was there also, & illustrated not a little, the said assembly with his presence and authority, where with the consent of all the Prelates, and particular consolation of S. Anselm, was thundered forth the sentence of Excommunication, as well against the Laity, that presumed to give the investitures of Bishoprikes, as against the ecclesiastics themselves, and others, who received them at their hands, or durst consecrate any persons by such ways, intruded into those dignities. The Council being ended, S. Anselm having obtained good leave, departed for Lions, with resolution to remain there with the Archbishop Hugo, his most intimate friend, having now quite lost all hope of ever returning into England again, whiles K. William lived.   

News cometh to S. Anselm, how K. William was sl●…yne, & King Henry had succeeded. He returns welcome into England: where after some troubles passed over, he dies blessedly in his Sea of Canterbury. Chap. 17.  
SAint Anselm being arrived now, at Lions, while he attended to his wont exercises of virtue, and assisting the Archbishop, & that Diocese; behold two Monks from England with tidings, that K. William upon the second of August, being a hunting, was shot through the hart with an arrow, and had presently given up the ghost. Whereat S. Anselm was very sorry, & most bitterly lamenting affirmed, he would willingly have given up his own life, to have delivered his King from so sudden, and dreadful an end. And a little after, arrived diverse Posts to S. Anselm, with letters from K. Henry his Successor and the Nobility of England, both Ecclesiastical, and Secular, entreating him to return back again with all possible diligence, for that the whole Kingdom expected him, with exceeding desire, and that all public businesses were differred, and put off until his coming.  
Whereupon S. Anselm without delay, took his journey towards Normandy, and crossing the Seas, the first thing he did, he declared to the new King, in plain terms, what had lately been determined in the sacred Council of Rome in the matter of investitures of Bishops. Whereat K. Henry being greatly troubled made instance to S. Anselm that for revocation of such a decree, he would return again unto the Pope, called Paschalis, being newly elected in place of urban then deceased: to which request S. Anselm made answer plainly, that it was not to be sued for, or possibly procured by any means; & yet notwithstanding K Henry urging him, that at least for his satisfaction he would lead with him, another Ambassador thither, whom for that purpose he determined to send to his Holiness, S. Anselm obeyed, and being received by the Pope, and the whole Court with great honour, his companion the King's Ambassador after he had laboured in vain for that which his Lord pretended, returned into England without effect, and S. Anselm remained in France. for that he heard K. Henry was exceedingly displeased for the ill success of his affairs in the Court of Rome, and had impioussy seized upon the archbishopric of Canterbury, & despoiled S. Anselm of all his goods.  
Howbeit after a while the same K. Henry, being touched with the fear of God, and true penance, restored S. Anselm into the possession of the said Church, and very honourably received him again into peace & grace. Which conversion of his, how grateful it was to the divine M●…iesty, did soon appear by a glorious victory, which he got against his Brother Duke Robert, with other personages, who had revolted from him; through which victory K. Henry did remain absolute Lord of Normandy. And in sign of gratitude, caused a Parliament to be called at London, in which, to the extraordinary consolation of S. Anselm there present, and of all good men, he renounced the custom of his Predecessors, concerning the Inuestiture of Churches, leaving the free disposition thereof to the Pope and his Delegates, showing himself herein particularly, to be a true and obedient child of the holy Apostolic Sea.  
Now S. Anselm, waxing daily more, and more grieved with old age, and diverse infirmities, especially of the stomach, came to such weakness, as that not being able to celebrate Mass, made himself to he carried every day to the Church to hear the same, and in short time the malady increased so much, as it clearly appeared, there was little hope of his life. His benediction then was required by the Bishop of Rochester, for all that were present, as also for the King and Queen themselves, with their children, and the whole Kingdom beside: and he having given it, with much devotion most sweetly bowed down his head, and one of his familiars, taking the Text of the Gospel, began to recite the Passion of our Lord, and coming to those words: Vos estis, qui permansistis mecum in tentationibus meis, & ego dispono vobis, sicut disposuit mihi Pater meus, regnum, ut edatis & bibatis super mensam meam, in regno meo; the good Archbishop, began to fetch his breath more thick than ordinary. Whereupon the standers by, being aware of the approach of his last hour, after the due rites, and Sacraments applied, taking him in their arms, they laid him down, according to the manner of those times, upon a Cilice, and Ashes; where he rendered his blessed soul to the Creator, upon Wednesday in Holy week, in the morning being the 21. day of April, in the year 1109. or as others would have it 1080. and the 13. of his Bishopric, and the 76. of his age.  
Being afterwards socked, and revested with his Pontifical ornaments, he was decently laid forth in the Church, and buried with most solemn Exequys, and with the sorrow that behoved, for the loss of such, and so great a Prelate. Many other, and great miracles, besides those that we have touched, are recounted of him, the which notwithstanding altogether with me, make him not so venerable & worthy of eternal praise, as two only Qualities which he had, among others, in an excellent degree; to wit, his Discretion, and Assability with all. Most noble virtues without doubt, and such (as we have said) that he above all other gifts, should be adorned withal, who desires to have open, and manifest to him, the Souls and consciences of his subjects, and would seek by due means, to lead them to some good point of Perfection, and Sanctity.   
FINIS.   

S. OTHO.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

THE Altar decked with Purple 
* Sal. I●…chi upon those ●…ords Num. 4. Et togent alta●…e purpura:  did display  
The fire that came from heaven which under lay  
As in its mansion unextinguished,  
And by itself conserved, and nourished.  
Those that Christ's flock appointed are to feed,  
And govern it, must take attentive heed  
The inward man do with their Robes agree,  
And like to that like fire do signify;  
Ever conserved Heavens love, which drawn from thence  
Their nobler souls should purge, and quintessence.  
This in my Rule I fostered, this my Hart  
Did purify and cleanse my better part  
From worldly cares, and sensuality,  
And fruitful made in acts of Charity.  
Myself of all the wretched'st I esteemed,  
And worldly joys, I like those Meteors deemed  
Composed of grosser substance, yet exceed  
The stars we think, and greater wonder breed.  
Preferment me abased, raised more high  
Dejected more, more low in dignity.    

THE LIFE OF S. OTHO BISHOP OF BAMBERGE.  Written by Laurence Surius. 

Otho being well descended, his Father having left him poor, goes into Poland; whence being sent Ambassador to the Emperor, is preferred by him to be Chancellor. Chap. I.  
OTHO, who was after Bishop of Bamberge, a Suevian by nation (whose proper place, and Surname, is not known) was borne of the Count Bartold, and of the Countess Sophia his wife; more noble of blood, then rich in substance, & goods. Who after they had bred with diligent care, and with the help of a good Master, brought up this son, died; and the government of the house, fell into the hands of another Son, whose name was Frederick, at such time indeed, as in foreign parts, as it happened, Otho was busyed at his book. Where he having with good applause attended to the study of humanity, and to some part of Philosophy, and wanting sufficient means to proceed any further, by reason of the short allowance, which his Brother and other friends afforded him, he resolved, to the end he might not be grievous & burdensome to them, to pass over into Polony, where was as that time a great scarcity, and want of learned men. here then, for the teaching and instructing of youth, and withal likewise for his greater profit, he set up open School. And with this manner of life, coming shortly to be well known, not only for a pious and a learned, but even also for a wise and discreet Man; he purchased to himself, besides an honest, and competent means to live, much reputation, and favour also with the principal personages of those Countries.  
There was added also to the learning and integrity of this servant of God, a majesty in his countenance, and such a garb in his behaviour, and so noble a dexterity in his conversation, as that after he had in diverse occurrences handled, and negotiated affairs of no small importance, he was by the Duke of Polony (for as yet, there was no Alteza, or Highness of a King) sent in weighty affairs unto the Emperor Henry the fourth, his Cousin. Who was likewise so pleased with the carriage, and prudence of Otho, as that the Embassage being ended, with the good leave of his Cousin he retained him with him, with some honourable title, among his Chaplains: and a little after, the dignity of the great Chancellor being void, he most graciously conferred it upon him. In which charge, Otho carried himself so faithfully to the Prince, and with so much courtesy and humanity towards others, as he made a notable increase of love, and credit with persons of all sorts.   

S. Otho is preferred by the Emperor to be Bishop of Bamberge; and after some difficultyes is by the Citizens joyfully received. Chap. 2.  
THERE was in those days introduced among Christians an abuse of much prejudice to the holy Apostolic Sea, (and I would to God, there were not as yet some relics thereof, to be seen likewise in these our days) that many Princes, and especially the Emperor, under the name of investitures, bestowed the Churches at their pleasure; and when a Bishopric was vacant at any time, the Chapter would send to Caesar, the Pastoral staff & ring, beseeching his Majesty to vouchsafe to provide them a Successor. Whence it came, that many personages, the children, & nephews of Barons, and great Lords, under diverse colours of services done, would follow the Court of Caesar, to be promoted to some Bishopric, or other, as it chanced to fall. Now Robert the Bishop of Bamberge, a noble City of Franconia, being then deceased, and the sacred Pledges carried unto Court with the wont supplication, Henry answered, he would take time, for the space of six months, to think of a new election. In the mean while in Bamberge, were made continual prayers, and pennances for that effect.  
The term being ended, it was signified them by the Emperor, that now, he had found a sufficient Pastor for that Church, though for the present he suppressed his Name, while that good people, continued still more fervent than ever in redoubling their devotions. And among others, on the Vigil of Christmas day, was a solemn procession ordained (where none was absent) from the Cathedral, to the Church of S. Michael, on the Hil, taking that glorious Archangel for intercessor, with the divine Majesty, to obtain a Prelate, of the sufficiency and goodness, which they desired. And on the other side they sent Ambassadors to Henry, to solicit the expedition: & in fumme neglected not any thing that concerned the happy issue of so important a business. And the divine Clemency, accustomed to hear the prayers of such as concur on their parts, and manfully to set hand thereto; was pleased with the piety and industry of Bamberge, in putting into Caesar's mind, to put the designs in execution, as soon as might be. Thereupon, sending for the foresaid Ambassadors to come unto him, he spoke to them, in the manner following.  
How dear to us (Ambassadors) your Church is, and ever hath been, from hence you may easily gather, that we have thought it not good to give you a rector, till after a long & mature consult thereupon; and that surely with good reason: Forasmuch as the said Church, as you know, hath been founded by our progenitors, and adorned, and furnished of all things that seem to appertain to the splendour and mantenance of Christian Religion, and (which is more, and which cannot be affirmed but of few other Seas) the same ornaments, furnitures, and ancient riches, are kept very safe, and entire, unto this day; so as reason would, for the custody, and administration of them, should be placed over them, not an ordinary man, but one who were sage, prudent, and zealous of the honour of God.  
And the Emperor proceeding to manifest more at large, this good disposition of his, towards the Communality of Bamberge, some of the Ambassadors, being wearied already with such long and tedious ambages, could not hold themselves, but they must needs ingeniously demand of him, where, and who he was, whom his Majesty had so destined for the government.  
Then Henry cheerfully looking about: Behold him, said he, and taking Otho by the hand, that was (as we said) of a venerable aspect, and decently clad in a clerical habit; This, said he, is your Lord, this is your Priest, and Bishop of Bamberge. There could not happen to the Ambassadors ears, a more strange and unexpected thing than it. Whence being astonished, and confounded, they began privily to look one upon another, and to cast there eyes from time to time on the face of Otho. Whereof some of Caesar's court being aware, who now for a long time, gad greedily expected to aspire to that seat and Living; with glances, nods and whispering began to stir up the Bambergians to show themselves not well satisfied with such a nomination, and resolved not to accept it by any means. So as at last, with a sad countenance and free liberty, they turning themselves to Caesar, said: We hoped your Majesty, would have deputed to us, some Prelate, who had been one of the most markable, and illustrious of the Court. Now for this man, we know not either, who he is, or whence he came. Then Caesar replied with a severe look. We ourselves, through long conversation and infinite proofs have had full, and perfect notice of this Subject, his faithfulness, his judgement, and longanimity: his diligence, in small matters, and sufficiency in great, are not unknown to us. Nor would we have you to think but the loss of such a Minister must needs redound to the notable prejudice of our own service. From whence we see, as every one may perceive, the sincere affection we bear to your Country, so as we in this election so much premeditated, are not to be altered in our judgement. And whosoever shall seem to have the boldness to oppose this our decree, shall infallibly incur our high displeasure.  
Otho hitherto had known nothing of any such deliberation made: Whereupon, as one astonished with a sudden blow, falling prostrate at the Emperor's feet, began to pour forth a flood of tears. The Ambassadors ran readily to rear him up. He then having taken a little breath, refused the charge with might & main: esteeming, & proclaiming himself to be wholly unworthy thereof: and affirming with all, that so high a degree became rather some other more noble, ancient, and well deserving of the sacred crown, then him. By occasion whereof, Caesar, re-entering again into Otho's praises, among other things, made this public declaration, how this had been the third Bishopric, which the servant of Christ had refused; how first he had offered him, that same of Augusta, then that of Halberstad, nor could ever hitherto seem to fasten any one upon him. From whence, very evidently appeared the modesty, the humility, and merits of such a persons through divine dispensation reserved (as it should seem) for the benefit and behoof of the City of Bamberge. And with this, & many other Eulogies, and praises, putting the ring on his fingar, and the Pastoral staff in his hand, so adorned he gives him to the Ambassadors.  
At sight whereof, with a sudden inclination of minds, was immediately raised a favoutable cry, and applause of the whole multitude. The Ambassadors beholding things to fall out thus, as truly from God, approaching to S. Otho, their Father, and Lord, saluted him cheerfully, and with Christian virtue, very reverently adored him; When as Henry said again, Accept him then with a good will, and use him with that love and veneration, as he deserves: because I call him to witness who knoweth all things, that I know not a man in all the world, to whom more truly, and with greater reason so ample a charge as this may be conferred, then to him. And for my part, as long as I live, and wield this Sceptre, whosoever shall but touch him, shall touch the very apple of mine eye. In this manner then, and by such means as these, came S. Otho to be forced to the Bishopric, but yet full of anxiety and scruples the while, as well for other very grave respects, as also, for the controversies sprung up, as we said before, by reason of investitures, between the Roman Church, & Empire. And yet on the other side, considering, that his being now so often called to such a charge, could not choose but proceed from the divine Will, he feared least persisting in the negative, he might hap to incur that dreadful sentence, Noluit benedictionem, & elongabitur ab eo.  
Amidst such straits and perplexityes as these, he finally determined with himself, to recurre as soon as might be, for aid and light to the Apostolic Sea, and made an express vow never to admit of the Bishopric, unless at the instance of his flock the Pope himself should invest, and consecrate him with his own hands. With this resolution, he kept the Feast of the Nativity of our Lord at Mentzes in company of Caesar, and from thence, dismissing a part of the Ambassadors, he stayed in Court for urgent reasons about some forty days space: Which being ended, he took his leave of Henry; and through his express commandment, accompanied to Bamberge, by the Bishops of Augusta, and of Herbipolis, & of other principal personages beside, he made his solemn entry on the day before the Purification of the most blessed Virgin. The Monks and Clerks, and all the Nobility, went forth to meet him in orderly procession, with psalms, and hymns, and with rich ornaments and devout relics. Nor would the people, and meaner sort, suffer themselves to be vanquished with such offices of obsequiousness. While every one, leaving their shops, & staules, ran striving to kneel before him, and to demand the benediction of their holy, and so long desired Pastor. In which feast, and solemnity we may not pass over in silence one thing, that shows very well that even in the Courtier's life, who will but afford any time to spiritual things, may make a notable purchase of religious virtues.   

S. Otho remembering his Vow, goes to Rome, where he is consecrated Bishop by the Pope himself. Chap. 3.  
S. Otho, as we have seen, had spent the greater, and better part of his years, in the service of secular Princes, and lived in the exterior, a common life, and without any apparent singularity in him: And yet performing, according to occasions (which want not) intense acts of temperance, and humility, and of contempt of himself, in short time he became very rich in those habits, which more gallantly adorn and deck the soul, then do all the Mitres, and Pontifical robes set forth the body. Whereof, he gave a most clear example in the aforesaid day of his entrance so in Pontificalibus. Because, that in coming to approach to Bamberge, as soon as he descovered a far off the Cathedral Church, being dedicated to S. George, he not only, according to the custom of that Bishopric, dismounted suddenly from his horse, but also putting off his hose and shoes publicly in the hart of winter, went bare foot and bare leg on stones, and ye through the press of people unto the Church, where the sharpness of the cold, having (not without danger of his health) now possessed already, as it were, the vital parts, and a hot Bath being suddenly applied to him for present remedy, he suddenly called for cold water, when putting his legs thereinto, with one rigour, he expelled the other: and then besides the accustomed ceremonies, having devoutly made his prayers, and with the wholesome signs, with his sacred hand given his pastoral benediction to the people, being tired and spent, at last retired himself into his lodging. After which, the first and principal care of S. Otho, was to render his vow, and to give due account of his actions to the Bishop of Bishops, and general Superintendent of the whole Church of Christ.  
And though he well perceived the danger he incurred therein of offending Henry, there being nothing, that more touches Princes to the quick, than the point of jurisdiction; yet for all that, preferring ever a good conscience, and a chaste fear of God, before any other respect whatsoever, he first reduced the Clergy, and people of Bamberge to his opinion; showing them the obligation that was of acknowledging the supreme power of the Pope of Rome. Then by letters, having obtained leave of the Pope himself to kiss his feet, he went with an honourable train of his followers, and familiars, and of the principal of his Church, to the Court of Rome, the Pope (who was then Paschalis the Second) then residing at Anagni, a City in Latium. Where S. Otho arriving within the Octaves of the Ascension, after the kiss of his holy feet, very faithfully declared to the Pope, the whole order and progress of his promotion, without concealing any thing of moment: and to accompany his words with deeds, without more a do puts the ring and staff at his feet, and humbly craves pardon of the offence, succeeding merely by another's violence, rather than of his own inclination, demanding withal penance, and Canonical censure for the same.  
On the other side, the Procuratours of Bamberge, do never cease to beseech the Pope, he would deign to confirm, or to say better, renew the election, made by Henry, & not to deprive their Country of so exemplar, and behooveful a guide, Master, & Supporter. To which speeches of theirs, Paschalis giving a benign answer, commands S. Otho to resume again the deposed pledges: & he still showing himself backward; The feast of the Holy Ghost (said the Pope) drawing near, we will remit the controversy to him. And after some discourses, the Bishop, and the others returned to their lodgings, with the Apostolical benediction, but yet with a divers disposition of mind, and quality of thoughts: The subjects with a firm hope of obtaining as much as they desired of the Pope, and the Prelate himself with a purpose to relinquish the Bishopric by all means possible. And being all that night, and the day following intensely fixed in contemplating the reasons, that were of either part: finally pondering the malice of the times, the encumbrances, troubles, and molestations, and dangers of the Episcopal state, the disobedience, contumacy, and insolency of the inferiors, and in sum, all the asperityes, and difficultyes of such a charge, he determined with a full and firm resolution, to reduce himself to a private life, and calling his companions and domestics to him very plainly unfolded to them his whole deliberation, and without delay being dispatched of the Pope, and Court, put himself on the way towards Germany.  
But scarcely had he made one days journey, when a Post overtakes him from his Holiness, who calls him back. Which thing was an incredible disgust, and extreme trouble to S. Otho; while he prudently guessed what was like to ensue thereof. But being then overcome by the precept, and encouraged by the prayers, and exhortations of his followers, with fear and trembling he returned to the Pope again, and without being able to resist any longer, on the day of Pentecost, while the Mass was sung, with great iubiley of the Bambergians, and universal joy of the whole Court among other demonstrations of charity and esteem, had likewise the privilege to have carried before Him and his Successors for ever, the Cross and Pall, eight times a year; Whereas his Predecessors, had them carried, but four times only. Which favour he accepted with great thanksgiving, not so much for his own respect, as for the love of his Espouse, whose exaltation for the divine service, was worthily most dear unto him. But yet more glorious to S. Otho, and far more fruitful to Mankind, were the gifts that befell him in the rites of the mystical unction, being poured upon him from the large and munificent hand of the Holy Ghost, as a vessel well disposed, and most capable of them. Through which, being fortified with new breath, and agility, and more inflamed continually to each pious and holy work, without suffering himself by any means to be enticed by those objects, and allurements, which like to Sirens detain a man far from his home, and residence; taking his leave again of the Pope, as soon as might be, he returned back to his beloved flock.   

S. Otho built, and founded many Monasteries, both little and great. He was hospitable, abstinent, and zealous of souls, and employs himself in the conversion of Pomerania. Chap. 4.  
BEsides the singular wisdom, which in all affairs S. Otho showed, as well temporal and profane, as spiritual and Ecclesiastical; were the great testimonies of his singular piety, and magnificence, the fifteen greater Monasteryes, and the five less, of diverse orders which in sundry places of that Province were erected, adorned, and founded by him: With condition they should all remain under the protection, and direct dominion of the Cathedral of Bamberge. And in the same Cathedral, and those other Churches of the said City, for ampliation of the divine service; he increased the rents, recovered the alienated goods, re-edified the ruyned buildings, and lastly on every side, made very notable emprovements, being things without doubt so much more admirable, as he was more solicitous even at that time also of the interior progress of souls, and of the necessary provision withal, for maintenance of the body. Wherein expressing the figure of perfect Benignity, he spared from himself whatsoever he could, the better to supply the commodities of others, affecting as well parsimony in private, as magnificence in public, and above all things far off from any show of superfluity, and those sumptuous dishes, which under colour of state and decorum, are commonly afforded the greater and richer Prelates.  
Nor was he therefore in his diet, or in the ordinary expenses of his house any whit scarce or miserable, but how well furnished soever his tables were, with a rare & noble habit of temperance he would rise often times from the table with an appetite; distributing the while to the bashful poor beggars, and to sick folks, the dainetyest meats which were dressed for him. And to come to some particulars in this matter: On a fasting day, there being once set before him a goodly Pickrell and well seasoned, he was not only not pleased with the dish, but showed himself disgusted and strange thereat. Whereupon the loving Steward, as taking compassion of his Master's extreme abstinence, began modestly to ex hort, and pray him to refresh himself a little therewtih, and to en joy that blessing, which the common Lord had destined for him●… But the blessed Bishop, with eyes not alured and vanquished wit●… that present food, and ears shut to the prayers and enticement made him, said to him: What hast thou laid out upon this fish here? and the other answered, some two crowns. God forbid (replied S. Otho) that my belly should me so dear: Go too then, & go thy ways presently, and carry it to my jesus (meaning by that word some needy, sick, and diseased person) as for me, that am thanks be to God, so sound and able, this loaf of bread, shall suffice. Such were his delicacyes amidst so much riches. Through which, and other most excellent qualities of this man of God●…, and principally, for the great zeal, which he had of his Neighbours good, his fame being dilated through all parts, a noble occasion was offered him of dilating of the Gospel.  
The Duke Boleslaus ruled the Poland nation at that time, a personage of much valour, and singular piety. This man, having with the aid of the Bohemians, and Hungars, subdued Pomerania, that lay drowned in Paganism; was much inflamed, through heavenly sparks, to the conversion of that people: but as the same, in those times, besides the servitude of the Idols, by nature also was very barbarous and fierce, the good Duke, could not find any labourers to cultivate that land, so wild and savage as it was: and yet not ceasing for all that, to think of the salvation of those, whom the divine Majesty had committed to his government, at last the person of the Bishop of Bamberge, came into his consideration, now living (as we have said) very laudably in Polony, with whom he was so well acquainted, either by sight or hear say, as (among other gifts) he knew, he had the skill of the Pomeranian tongue: and promising himself with good reason, all help from the charity of S. Otho, he besought him by letters and messages, he would be pleased to permit him some little absence from his flock, now a long time so increased and instructed in sound Religion; to afford some part of himself unto a people drowned in Idolatry, and miserably tyrannised by the powers of darkness.  
The prayers and persuasions of Boleslaus, were not in vain: Like a generous Falcon that discovers its prey, so was S. Otho immediately inflamed to the spiritual purchase of that Province; and yet distrustful of his proper forces, he recommended earnestly the whole business to the divine Goodness, through which, though he well perceived the vocation to be approved; yet nevertheless to proceed with the more stable & well governed designs, he would not seem to undertake the enterprise, though otherwise holy, without first having the consent and dispatch of the Pope of Rome. By whom being encouraged to so noble a Conquest, and provided of necessary faculties for the purpose, he puts himself on the way; from thence passing through Bohemia into Polony, with three Priests only for his helpful assistance, he arrived in Pomerania; being honourably met, in the Confines thereof, by Christiernus Prince of those Countries, who at the instance of Boleslaus, against the will of his Wife, and Subjects, had been now already baptised.   

The great labours, and difficulties of S. Otho, in converting the People of Pomerania: with baptising the Wife of Christiernus, and Wenceslaus his Son. Chap. 5.  
IT is no easy matter here to number, much less to unfold the labours, travails, and toils of S. Otho, while with infinite patience and sweetness, he seeks first to purchase to himself the good will of the people of Pomerania, and then likewise to let them see the darkness wherein they lay as buried, through ancient error; now awaking them with the help of the light of nature itself, to the knowledge of the Creator; and now proposing the Articles of the Catholic faith unto them, and with apt comparisons, and examples, shadowing and figuring the ineffable misteryes of the most holy Trinity. And on the one side, showing the conveniency and necessity of the Incarnation, and Passion of the Son of God; and on the other, the necessity of obeying the Precepts, and of imitating his actions, and in doing penance. To which effect, the divine Catechist, adding, and proving with lively reasons the eternal rewards and punishments proposed for the merits of each one, he endeavoured with all his power to root out the fabulous opinions through diabolical illusion, and long course of time so rooted in their minds, and withal to pull them from their impious worship, wicked ceremonies, and sacrilegious feasts of the Idols; the which, how much more accompanied with carnality, pa●…ymes, and riotousness they were; so much stronger an arm was needful for so hard a separation, and so bitter a divorce.  
But above all, was this wise proclaimer of the Gospel made more vigilant, with the care he had of the perpetual edification of his Neighbours, and with the governing not only of himself, but also of his companions and familiars; so as neither in their facts, words, and carriages, might appear any thing that might seem to destroy with scandal, what he endeavoured to edify with doctrine: and with these, and such like means, S. Otho did proceed with the enterprise so far, as within few days, came above seven thousand persons to the sacred Baptism: whereunto, for a complete joy was added not long after, the wife also of Christiernus himself; and moreover the Prince Wenceslaus, who was so given, and addicted to worldly pleasures, as it was necessary, not without exceeding trouble, to go by little & little a weeding away some four & twenty concubines from him, and to leave him contented with one lawful, & only Consort. For conservation of which purchases, the servant of God having erected Temples in those Provinces, and ordained, as much as the scarcity of subjects would permit, Pastors and Priests; he passed from thence more inward into the Country, where he dealt with inhabitants so inhuman, as would not endure by any means to be dissuaded from their ancient customs; but instead of complying with the zeal of the Messenger of Christ, did exercise their native fierceness against him, with scorn's ●…niuryes, with throwing of dirt upon him, & rudely smiting him withal: until being vanquished at last through his unheard of ●…eekenes and wholesome advices, most humbly craving pardon at his hands for so great pertinacity and boldness, they accepted likewise of the sweet yoke of Christ.  
Among which occupations and pains of his, S. Otho not forgetting a whit his first and dearest vineyard: & fearing least through ●…is too long absence from it, the same might hap to suffer some do●…age, settling affairs in those country's the best he could, he made a progress, as short as possibly he might unto Bamberge: where ●…he fame of his so glorious actions, having already arrived, he was ●…eceiued as a Prelate truly Apostolical, and that though full sore against his will, with more exquisite honours, and greater vene●…tion than ever: and having with his presence, and opportune ex●…ortations comforted that people there, and promoted, or amended rather, according as need required, the public discipline; he returned very soon again to the tender plants of Pomerania. And here encouraging such, as were running before, provoking the flow, and confirming, and rearing up the wavering, he attended more at ease, with due means, to establish the happy culture of those lands. And having now reduced matters to good terms, and being finally rich with merits, and full of benedictions, he returned again to his proper dio●…sse. Where while he attends by all manner of ways to represent in himself the form of a faithful vicar, and servant of Christ, there occurred to him an accident worthy of fear, and wonder, as shall appear in the next Chapter.   

After a notable accident happened, S. Otho dismayed, desires to be discharged of the Office, and to be received into a Monastery: but he is denied. Chap. 6.  
IN a Church of a certain village, called Buchback, which S. Otho visited, he found that under the Altar, within a little chest of lead, were laid very many and most precious relics, sealed up. Which he not holding to be in so worthy a place, as became them, determined to translate them, some other where with more veneration, and decency to be kept by Religious persons. There being then fasts, and devout prayers made for that intention, he returned thither, with an honourable troop of Clercks' about him, and appointed some of them to break the seal, and to take forth the chest: but none of them daring, through their innated piety and reverence they bore unto it, to lay hands thereupon, he himself full of fervour, courageously takes hold of the mallet, and hardly had given it two or three blows, when from the chest itself, there flowed forth a manifest stream of blood. The standers by being amazed at the spectacle, began suddenly to fall down to the ground, and with tears to beg mercy of God, and succour of the Saints. The Bishop himself giving over the enterprise, being full of confusion and fear for the matter, retires to Bamberge, where, either for chastisement of his too much confidence, or else, for matter of new crowns, being seized on by a grievous infirmity, and desirous to be assisted in spirit (since for the body he cared not much) he caused Father Wolfran Abbot of S. Michael's, to be ●…nt for, to come unto him, a person of rare qualities: and while this so great and faithful friend of his sat familiarly by him, and with the hopes of heaven, and other sweet discourses, sought to ●…itigate his dolours; S. Otho one day having found some little ●…uce with his malady, with an humble countenance, turning himself to him.  
Father, said he, you must understand, how I now for so ma●…y years having been suddenly raised to Prelacy, and from the ●…oyse and vanity of the Court, being yet full of spots and dust, without passing the purgative way, having purchased the ensigns of perfection, which is, as much as to become a Doctor before one goes to School. And I, though enforced in a manner unto it by him, who had reason to command me; do stand yet in some doubt, whether then, I made due resistance or no to such a charge: and do verily believe, that besides those ancient remorses of conscience, these new scourges of the eternal justice, have thus light upon me. And now since the common Lord, with equal benig●…ty, seems to punish me so, and give me space to look back into my former offences: I am resolved to differ no longer the delibeta●…on I have often made with myself, to discharge me of the Pastoral office, so much above my feeble and weak forces, and in a private life to reduce me to Monastical discipline. And since among all the congregations which I know, I find none more con●…rmable to my designs and behoofes, than yours of S. Michael; I do therefore most earnestly beseech you, Father, to vouchsafe to accept me in the name of our Saviour Christ into your family, and ●…o present unto him this small sacrifice of myself, and being cloa●…ed though unworrhy with your habit, to admit me into your Convent; and ruling me in all, and in every thing, as the other subjects, to conduct me with divine assistance to the glorious victory of my passions, and to a full mortification of my proper will. You know well enough the bands of straight friendship & amity, which are between us, and I do very well remember the charity you have ever showed me in all occurrences. But now assure yourself, that in affoarding me this benefit which here I request at your hands, you shall far exceed all the services, and courtesies which you have hitherto vouchsafed me.  
Such words spoke the Bishop, with voice and gestures well able to demonstrate they came not from any sudden fit of passion, but from a resolute and stable purpose: and the Abbot being astonished at so new a demand, not to constristate the sick man, for that time would by no means deny him, but rather with a cheerful countenance, commending the good desire he had, made show to accept of his prompt Obedience, reserving the execution of the rest, to his better health. In the mean while, the fervorous Novice, finding himself to be somewhat better recovered, and not seeing the hour of fullfilling his vow to come, having disposed as secretly as he could, the things belonging to him, without delay requires the habit of Religion; and makes new instance to be sent into the Monastery so convalescent and weak at he was. But the discreet Superior on the one side being edified at so great humility of his; and on the other, in much suspense for the importance & quality of the business, calling after prayer some grave & experienced men to consult, he proposed the Bishop's request; and all having well examined the matter, did answer it to be without doubt, to the service of God, that a man of so eminent virtue, & behooveful to so great a multitude, should go forwardly rather to shine on the Candlestick of the Church, as a burning and resplendent light, then by aspiring to a private life to hide himself under a bushel, within Cloisters, though otherwise holy, and laudable in itself.  
With this answer, the Abbot being assured, and confirmed in his former judgement, goes his ways to S. Otho: who like unto a weight that approached nearer to its centre, longed so much the more for subjection, poverty, and solitude, as the confidence was greater, which he had conceived already of obtaining his intent; and approaching to him with due reverence, demanded of him, if he held still his purpose to maintain the Obedience with deeds, which he had promised him with words: and he cheerfully answering, that for the love of him, who to the eternal Father had observed it to death, he was readily disposed to keep it, without exception. Then (replied the Abbot) on behalf of the same Lord, do I command thee to persevere to the end under the charge of the administration thou hast in hand, and courageously to go forward in the way begun to the glory of God, behoof of the holy Church, consolation to the faithful, the support of Widows, Pupils, and Orphans, and to continue thy life in good works, & in sum, to do what thou dost, and to execute the office thou art in, to gain at the Prince of Pastors' hands the eternal life, and reward a hundred fold. Because, that if we would but weigh things indeed with equal balances, what Monk lives at this day under the Sun, of so much abstinence, and of so great perfection, whose merits and poverty, may seem to stand in comparison, with the care and solicitude, thou hast of so many souls, and with the sweet dispensation of so great riches? So as thou mayst quiet thyself, with the authority of him, whom thou hast taken as guide and counsellor in this behalf. And let the divine honour and public utility be preferred before thine own particular gusts and contentments.  
With such reasons, S. Otho being lastly convinced, as an enemy of self-love, and far from all pertinacy, without more replies, did bow down his head; and putting a fresh the most bitter chalice of government to his mouth, with new breath, and with redoubled purposes he began to give himself wholly to the spiritual and temporal help of his Neighbours.   

S. Otho was exceedingly given to hospitality. He died blessedly: And his body being buried in the Church of S. Michael, was translated afterwards. Chap. 7.  
FOrasmuch, as among Episcopal parts and conditions (as hath been said) S. Otho knew well, that Hospitality was one of the chiefest, he endeavoured to send before him as much corn, victuals, clothes, and monies, as he could possibly procure, by the hands of the poor, but now especially, feeling himself to be so loaden with years, and near to the term of his life. So as like to an Olive tree, even stooping, as it were with abundance of ●…es, he gave himself freely to each state and condition of mortals. You might have seen there, whole squadrons of Pilgrims, very decently received into the chambers and lodgings of S. 〈◊〉. To the desolate Widows, forlorn Orphans, and the needy and necessitous Clerks, and Monks, stood his granary open day, and night, his Purse, and Wardrobe never shut; but like a wise merchant, in the short mart of this transitory time, he attended to barter and exchange terrene for heavenly, frail for eternal and incorruptible ware. In sum, besides the secret alms of each day there was not in all those parts, a Church, Convent, Hospital, or pious place of any sort, which he visited not, restored, and royally provided of what was necessary, for the Majesty of pure Religion, and continuation of Christian verity. And it was an admirable thing to see, how so much given away, and so much empting, he continually should find no bottom, as if the great Lord, and his careful Steward, should seem to strive together, the one to supply, and the other to distribute with a large hand, all manner of goods, gold, and silver, and what not?  
Amidst such actions as these, truly worthy of the lawful Successor of the Apostles, the blessed Man being now arrived to the end of his days, maturely composed the affairs of his Diocese, and having made a pure and devout confession, and after the holy Oil, receiving with great feeling the holy Eucharist; being environed round with a company of Clerks, and Religious, most sweet and dear unto him, who in that last passage came all to recommend him to their common Creator, he peaceably yielded up his soul, well fraught and replenished with good works, and full of honours, and heavenly graces.  
As for the mourning and great concourse of people wherewith his Exequys were celebrated, it imports not much to treat thereof; while every one may sufficiently gather how great a desire of his presence, might so loving a Father, and so vigilant a rector, seem to leave behind him. He was praised then with a solemn Sermon by the Venerable Embrichonus Bishop of Herbipolis, and carried unto his Sepulchre into the Temple of S. Michael (while Barons, Counts, and Marquesses succeeded by turns to convey the hearse) upon the first day of july, in the year of our Lord 1139. and of the administration of his Episcopal charge, the 37. The translation was made afterwards under Pope Clement the III. on 89. year the last of September, on which day is celebrated his memory, as eternally consecrated unto immortality; even by the learned penns of the noblest wits. Among which, john Trithemius affirms, that (besides what we have spoken of above) this S. Otho, was no less in his death, than life most illustrious, and famous for many and most evident miracles.   
FINIS.   

S. BERNARD.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

THE eye, that is unblemished, and free  
From colours, their defects can better see.  
Souls not forsaken, better can descry  
The World's deceits, and note her Vanity,  
He that the world abandons, this doth gain,  
Things dark to others are made clear and plain  
To his unstained soul. I well could sound  
Her deep impostures by experience found,  
And them display to others, whom I taught  
To slight her, and to ends more noble brought:  
I triumphed o'er her and her Prince, and lead  
Thousand most happy to be vanquished:  
Gaining hereby eternal liberty,  
And by their thraldom freed from slavery.  
If thou the world wilt conquer, her contemn,  
And this contempt shall gain a Diadem.    

THE LIFE OF S. BERNARD ABBOT OF CLAREVALL.  Written by three of his Monks. 

Of the Family and Parents of S. Bernard: with a notable vision his Mother had before his birth, which gave great hope of his future Sanctity. Chap. I.  
IN the parts of Burgundy, is a place which is called Fontaine, obscure heretofore and unknown, but deservedly famous and renowned, after it had so afforded to the world, that mirror of virtue and light of Sanctity, which now to the glory of God, we begin to describe. In that very place, was an honourable Knight, called Tesselinus, who according to the evangelical precepts, being contented with his pay, and far from all insolency and rapine whatsoever, so applied himself to Military discipline, as he forgot not the profession of Christ. This man had a wife, both chaste and fruitful, by name Aletta de Monte Barro, who amidst the familiar and transitory cares of the world, keeping her mind still fixed on eternal goods, did increase so much in devotion, that as many children as she brought forth into the world, (which were in number some six Sons, and one Daughter) taking them all one by one in her arms, she suddenly offered them to jesus; and from that time forwardly, as things made sacred, in a certain manner, would she nurse each one at her own breasts, instilling into them, together with the milk, the fear of God, & Christian piety. And after they came to be weaned, would she feed them with gross, and more common meats, & keep them wholly from all pampering, and childish sports, as if she had of purpose trained them to a monastical life. Nor was the project of the virtuous Mother any whit in vain, since finally all of them, one by one (as we shall see in the progress of the whole narration) through solemn vows of Religion, came thence to be the Servants of Christ. Of these, was S. Bernard borne in the third place, whose glorious merits (as they report) even just in a manner as of S. Dominicke, were through divine ordination foretold, and prefigured ere he was borne into the World.  
For as the Mother was resting one night in her bed, it seemed to her in sleep, she had a little white Dog in her womb, which made a great barking; whereat the poor wretch being exceedingly sad and disconsolate, demanded of a venerable Monk the true signification thereof. Who suddenly conceiving with the spirit of Prophecy, answered her: Fear not, Madam, all is well, there is an excellent Dog, to proceed from you, which both with his barking shall faithfully guard the flock of Christ, and with his medicinal tongue, shall heal the diverse infirmities of many and many a soul. Aletta being glad at such an Oracle, gave infinite thanks therefore unto the Creator; and from that time afterwards applied her mind with particular diligence to bring up that child. So as at last being delivered of him, she was not content, as she had done with the rest, to offer him to God only with private and domestic ceremonies, but in imitation of the blessed Anna the Mother of Samuel, carrying him in her arms into the Temple, with a singular affect of Charity, did dedicate him to the divine service. After this, she diligently attended to the nursing and training him up, and as soon as he seemed to be capable of discipline, sent him presently to the Church of Castiglio, unto approved Masters there to learn, as well good literature, as manners.  
The child, as he was elected by the divine Providence, and framed for high and great erterprises, so was he likewise of a rare wit, and of an excellent inclination withal. Whence it came, that as well in his studies in short time, he left all his companions behind him; as also in solid virtues, he began to give forth those buds, which in progress of time shot up to such a height of perfection, as they did. There was seen to be discovered in him, even in those very tender years of his, a marvellous maturity in all things: As for examples sake, to recommend himself often to God, without omitting the while, the exercises of the School; very seldom to go abroad; to keep silence, and modesty at home; to show himself benign and loving to all: and if any money chanced to come into his hands, he would presently give it freely in voluntary alms: but above all, he obeyed his Elders with great reverence. With such behaviour as this, the Child became most grateful in the sight of God, and Men. And even in that very time, he also gave forth a very notable sign of his Predestination. Because, that being fallen sick on a time in his bed, through a grievous pain of the head, there came a Witch unto him, who promised him to cure him of the headache. But he was so far off from admitting of any such cure at her hands, as that not without the astonishment of all there present, he began at the first sight of her, to cry out upon her with all his might and main, and with a holy disdain very suddenly drove her away thence. In this manner, the chaste Disciple of Christ conserved purity, and increased in learning, when through divine revelation, the Catholic Faith was both established in his breast, and also an extraordinary flame of Charity, enkindled therein, as shall appear more clearly hereafter.   

S. Bernard as yet a youth, had an admirable vision in sleep: He shows a notable example of Chastity. And his Mother dying, he after some difficultyes resolves to follow the divine counsels. Chap. 2.  
ON the night of the Nativity, while S. Bernard was in the Church with others attending the divine Office, falling suddenly into a slumber, he had the unspeakable grace, to behold the manner by which the Saviour and Spouse of human generation, went forth heretofore from the intemerate chamber of the Virgin Mary, with a firm persuasion, that he even just at that hour, was truly and really borne. From which sight, it cannot be expressed, what iubiley, and spiritual sweetness S. Bernard took. And hence it was, that as he had the holy Church, and all the articles proposed by it, in the highest veneration that might be; so, as long as he lived afterwards, he had a particular joy in this solemnity, and peculiar feeling of this sacred mystery: and (as partly may be gathered in his Homilies) he did always seem to discourse thereof with admirable gust, and a blessed fluency of conceits and words thereupon. Through this favour, being exceedingly confirmed, he passed over the first part of his age, without any rub at all, or great contradiction. But coming afterwards in the beginning of his youth, there wanted no probations, so much more grievous, as they were full of allurements & flatteryes.  
Though S. Bernard of himself, were of a tender complexion: yet was he of a good stature withal, and of lineaments very well in show, and lively withal; so as more than once he had happened to be importunely courted, and molested by lascivious women, but still in vain. Because that most noble and precious jewel of Chastity, was ever kept by the holy Youth, with so much jealousy, as that he having one day, for a very little space, unwarily set his eyes on a woman's face; as soon as he perceived the danger, falling into rage with himself for it, in the depth of winter, immediately he stripped himself, and entered up to the neck into a Pool hard by, of most cruel cold water: where with much maceration he remained so long, till he had fully extinguished in himself all sinister intentives of mind, & body.  
In this mean while, Aletta the mother, after she had sweetly lived many years with her husband without jars, and had had many Children by him, well and religiously brought up, leaving them all alive, came to the end of her days; which through the just retribution of God, was answerable to the life she had led. For that having lived (as much as the band of Wedlock, and care of the house, would suffer) in continual abstinences, prayers, and vigils, she fell grievously sick, & being now through the malady brought into extremes, having received the Sacraments, with much devotion, while the standers by were reciting the Psalter about her, she went still a long with them, with a weak voice; and when she could do no more rherewith, at least, she would follow on, with the gestures of her Countenance, and with the motion of her pale lips, until such time, as being now abandoned of all natural heat, when rehearsing the Litanyes, they came to those words, Per crucem & passionem tuam, lifting up her hand, and making the sign of the Cross, she happily expired. A Matron surely most noble, truly pious, and worthy to be imitated of all those who in conjugal state, having the body in power of the husband, with the soul do seek to serve and please Christ only.  
S. Bernard being thus deprived of such a guide, began now on all sides to be continually more cruelly assaulted, then ever. The flower of his age proposed to him sensual delights, exhorting him mainly, not to leave things certain, for perilous, and the present for those to come: and that hereafter when he would do penance, he should want no time in his elder age, exaggerating withal the divine clemency, which knows very well our human frailty; and putting him in mind moreover of the merits of Christ's passion, whreupon very safely he might build himself. On the other side, his friends, and companions, who being affrighted with the difficultyes of virtue, had entered into the spacious way, invited him no less thereunto, with diverse persuasions and examples. Nor was the world behind, to offer him riches, possessions, & palaces. Besides which, the very qualities themselves, wherewith he was endowed, of wit, of learning, and of a grateful presence suggested to him, sundry hopes of honours, dignities, & withal an immortal name. And all these fantasies as so much fuel on the fire, the ancient adversary always enkindled in him, and that so much the livelier as he was of a quicker discourse, and of a sharper apprehension. Who perceiving himself so environed on all sides with such subtle nets, precipices, and snares, and justly fearing the treasure, which he bore about him as shut up in his breast, very suddenly determined to secure the same, and that by no other means, then by the counsels of the eternal Wisdom.   

S. Bernard after many difficultyes resolves upon Religion, and draws as Uncle, and two younger Brothers to the same course. Chap. 3.  
THere remained now to S. Bernard only, to find out how, and in what manner he might put his good purpose in effect. Whereof while he went discoursing with himself, the religion of the Cistercians came into his mind, being founded heretofore by the venerable Abbot Robert, under the rule of S. Benet, with addition of some constitutions, and confirmed by the Pope, in the year of our Lord 1098. This Congregation now, as is wont to happen in beginnings, was at that time but of small renown, and had but one only Monastery, within a certain remote wood: whereunto very few had entered, through the straightness of the Enclosure, and asperity of life. But the fervent young man, and friend of the lowliness and poverty of Christ, judged it strait very apt for his designs, which were to suffer, and to be hidden, and far off from all occasions of vain glory. In such thoughts was S. Bernard much perplexed, and in great suspense, and gave beside, diverse other signs of inclination to retire himself, while his more domestic and nearest friends (which in such occasions are wont to be the greatest enemies,) endeavour to dissuade him from it, and thereby gave him very shrewd encounters. They alleged to him the delicateness of his complexion, that could not frame to the austerity and labours of cloisters; they proposed to him many other ways of serving God, and of helping souls, without going so to submit himself to a perpetual servitude; and stuck not to put scruples into his head, with burying such & such talents in a desert, which to the glory of God, and light of human kind were committed to him: and how much better were it, that following the course begun of learning, and of higher sciences in a quiet life, he should become a famous Doctor, & honour to his parents, a glory to his Country, and a succour to the world?  
With these, and other such like reasons his dearest friends went about to recall him from his purpose. Of all which (as the Saint manifested afterwards) there was none made so great impression with him, as the desire and commodity to prosecute his studies. This only respect did give him a shrewd blow, and had even almost quite overcome him. Whence they may take fair warning, who have had a vocation of God, and learn with what caution and custody they are to keep it, and not to communicate the same, but to some person who is very spiritual and chosen of a thousand; following herein that wary Merchant of the Gospel, who having discovered a treasure in a field, hides the same, and sells whatsever he possesseth to purchase that field: which advertisement not so fully observed by S. Bernard, had well nigh deprived him of so great a felicity.  
But besides the divine Clemency, and his good nature, he was helped not a little also by the memory of his blessed Mother, who had always with so many advices and motives incited him to perfection, and not to fall into tepidity, to the service of God, and not to vanity of the world, to the verity and humility of Christ, and not to the pride and swelling of secular wisdom.  
With these thoughts and wholesome advices sustained he the battle, yet so, as the good youth went still wavering with himself, until one day taking his journey to visit his Brothers, encamped with the Duke of Burgundy at the siege of Grancium, he felt himself so afflicted and tormented with the foresaid assaults of the spirit and sense, as that finding no rest, he retired himself into a Church by the streets side, and there with a shower of tears, and with deep sighs unfolding his afflicted hart in the fight of him that created it, he persevered so long in praying, and imploring help, and light from heaven, as that finally all doubt and perplexity being taken away, he felt himself fortified in the course of perfect virtue, as being now without fear of ever severing any more, he resolved with himself to reduce thereunto as many as he could. Nor was his enterprise in vain awhit, while the Highest most powerfully cooperated withal.  
The first assault he gave (being arrived to the Camp) was to his Brothers, and an Uncle of his by the Mother's side, by name Vi●…ricus, a famous soldier, and very wealthy in worldly substance, and Lord of a Castle which is called juiglio. This man meeting with S. Bernard, and being convinced with the spirit that spoke in him, lead the way to his Nephews. For that immediately after him, Bartholomew was taken, being not able to resist the inflamed exhortations of the Saint; and in the mean while Andrew showed himself to be somewhat difficult, but in that very instant, the Mother appeared to him (& S. Bernard sees her also) who with a cheerful countenance, seemed to rejoice at those happy beginnings. At which aspect Andrew yielded himself, crying out: I see our Mother; and so he promised to S. Bernard to do what he would. These two were his younger Brothers.   

S. Bernard through his powerful Eloquence, invites and allures the rest of his Brothers to follow his example: with other notable Persons. Chap. 4.  
AFter these, the valiant Chaptaine, not doubted also to assail his eldest Brother, by name Guido, though the matter were difficult, not only for his being now in good years, and encumbered with great affairs in the world, but even likewise, being now married a good while ago, with a Gentlewomman of a noble house, and having had some children by her. Nevertheless S. Bernard stuck not to set his hand, and though Guido at the beginning seemed to oppose, notwithstanding afterwards entering better into himself, and wisely considering herein, how the affair of his eternal salvation was handled, in being as it were wholly impossible to be happy in this and in the other life; he determined also on that very day to prefer the hope of future goods, before the present commodities. And how much more he was encouraged the next morning, when as entering with S. Bernard and others into the Church, he heard those words of S. Paul recited: Fidelis est Deus, quia qui coepit in vobis opus bonum, ipse perficiet usque in diem jesu Christi, I remit unto the pious Reading: for it seems no other, but that Guido's joy could be very great, in respect he heard this promise, in the very time of his wavering in purpose, as it were, to come from Heaven. Likewise S. Bernard and the rest, could not but receive exceeding comfort hereby.  
There was only one doubt yet left, whether Guido's wife would give her consent, or no. And yet howsoever, if she denied it, he determined with a generous and pious mind to disperse what riches he had to the poor, and labouring with his hands to live in the state of penance, and to maintain himself and family with his own labours. But S. Bernard delivered him from that anxiety, affirming for certain, that the Wife very soon would either yield consent, or end her life. And indeed the same succeeded, for that she showing herself somewhat difficult in that business, was seized on with so grievous and bitter an infirmity, as that acknowledging the hand of God upon her, she resisted no longer, and permitting liberty to her husband, allowing good means for her Daughter's maintenance, became likewise herself a Nun, to the exceeding great consolation of Guido her Father; and in that religious course she persevered even to her dying day, not without the wonder of all. Guido in this manner being quit of all temporal cares, had leisure to attend very fully to the spirit.  
It was not so easy a matter to incline Gerard to this, the second Brother. This man, besides that he was a brave Soldier, was also very wise according to the world, and likewise benign and beloved of all. This sudden mutation of his Brothers pleased him not awhit, he interpreted the same to a certain mobility and levity of mind; and in sum after he had disputed a good while, he peremptorily denied to consent ever to alter his profession. When S. Bernard wholly full of fire and zeal, putting forth the fingar to his side: I see well (saith he) that tribulation only is to give you understanding. The day shall come, and that ere long, that a lance entering through this side of yours, shall set open the door of your obstinate hart unto the wholesome counsel, which now you will not accept from me. And so it fell out; for a little while after being encompassed by his enemies, he took a blow with a lance in the same side, and being taken prisonner, and dragged through the streets, began as one besides himself to cry out, I am a Monk: I am a Cistercian Monk: and said nor amiss, for that he had no sooner his liberty again, but he went to submit himself to the sweet yoke of Christ, with the great joy of S. Bernard, and the rest, who most ardently thirsted after his salvation.  
The Benjamin remained, who was the youngest of all, by name Ninardus. This same did the others think good to leave in the world for a stay of the house, and for the more consolation of their old Father: but he neither would be excluded of the heavenly benediction, because that Guido meeting him one day in the market place together with some other boys: Go too Ninardus (said he unto him) all our goods are like to fall upon thee. To which words the child answered not with a childish judgement: Belike then heaven is for you, and the earth for me: there is no equality in that partition. And so after some days he also dedicated himself to the service of Christ. In the mean time, it pleased S. Bernard to go up, and down the neighbour-places for new conquests. Going forth then in the name of our Lord, he began to preach in diverse places, of the instability of human things, of the vanity of honours, of the shortness of pleasures, of the miseries of this life, and of the rewards and punishments of the other: and this with such an eloquence, and grace, and efficacy withal, as like a devouring flame, he transformed into himself what ere he met withal. And finally the matter passed so far, as the Mothers hid their children, and Wives their husbands, and friends diverted friends from listening to the reasons and discourses of the fervorous youth, least happily against their will they might be rapt away with that impe●… torrent of celestial Eloquence. But for all that they could not hinder him so, but he returned to his country with a precious booty of choice men. Among whom also was Hugo the Marcone, a person very notable for nobility and riches, who after he had made in Religion very excellent success, was assumpted to the Bishopric of Auxerre.   

S. Bernard, and his devout Companions retired themselves into the Monastery of Cisterce, with the Exemplar life which all lead, but chiefly S. Bernard. Chap. 5.  
THis troop of new soldiers of Christ, assembled themselves in Castighone, where though in secular habit, yet lived they all in the same house in common with so much peace and concord, that as it is reported of the Primitive Church, of all that multitude there was but one hart and soul only. And through the great veneration wherein they were with the people, there was hardly found any one, that durst approach to look into their actions: and if perhaps any entered into their lodgings, in beholding the Fraternal union, and order, and distribution of time, and Offices, the spiritual conferences, the singing of Canonical Hours, & other devout exercises; they acknowledged the divine assistance to be there without doubt, and either they remained there also with the same intent, or at least departed thence compunct and full of good desires, calling that Congregation Thrice happy, and fortunate.  
In this manner while the domestical affairs of some of them were in handling, they remained in the said place some six months at least. But perceaving afterwards a manifest danger in a longer abode there, especially for that in fine, two being miserably seduced by the Devil, were fallen back; it seemed good to S. Bernard and the others, to stay there no longer: so as all impediments being removed or cut off, calling on the divine assistance they repaired to the Monastery of Cisterce some fifteen years after the said house began. The number of these new disciples of Christ were about thirty, a very seasonable supply no doubt to that Congregation, which now already through the foresaid occasions was even almost brought to nothing.  
Whereupon, the Abbot Stephen who governed at that time, being Robert's successor, and those few which as yet were remaining with him, received incredible comfort, with a firm hope of a long posterity, according to a certain revelation had a little before by one of those first Monks; to whom being anxious about failing of the Order, at the end of his life, was represented an innumerable multitude of persons, who at the fountain near unto the Church were all washing their own garments. By this means (through divine grace) was Cisterce restored. And to this good work was added another, to set up at Villeo a place hard by, a Convent for the wives of as many of those Novices as concurring piously to the promotion of the divine service, had been content to acquit their husbands of the conjugal band, and by consequence to offer up themselves also in Holocausts to the Creator of all, to whose divine Majesty, how grateful that sacrifice was, may well be comprehended by the notable increase, which the said Convent of Nuns made in a short time, as well of number of subjects, as of means to live.  
But to return to the Saint, as soon as he saw himself in the school of Christ, the first thing was to plant in his hart an immoveable perseverance, in speaking within himself, at what time either case invited him, or labours deterred him: Bernard, Bernard, to what end didst thou enter in? And for repressing of unprofitable appetites for the soul, because he knew well, how much the custody of senses availed, he was so wary and diligent in the heed thereof, and especially of his eyes, as that after a whole year of his Novitiate, when he went from thence, he knew not as then, whether the ceilings of the chamber were painted, or of fret-worke. And though he had entered so often into the Church, where there were indeed many windows at the upper end, he never thought there had been more than one. Besides, he kept himself at all times from all levityes and sports, and from all those things which are wont to slacken the soul. Much laughing, a thing so proper unto man, was seldom in him; and when it was, it was without excess, and forced as it were, using it sometimes, nor to seem froward in things wherein commonly others hardly could forbear. He was moreover exceeding sober and vigilant; refection was a torment to him; at his rising from table, he would always make examen upon what he had eaten, and if he had found he had passed the bounds in any thing, he would not let the fault be unpunished. He had sleep in horror, as a resemblance of death, and that repose which, enforced through extreme necessity, he was wont to take, was superficial only, and so small, as to any but him, would have given no refreshment at all. Whence if he saw any of the Religious to sleep undecently, or snoring, he could hardly endure it, saying, such an one slept like a secular.  
But such excess of watchings and fastings could not chose, but bring also exceeding hurt and detriment to his health, since in progress of time, his stomach together with the diminution of natural heat, came very much to be deprived of the retentive faculty: and the tongue and palate, the body being of so noble a temperature, thereby came so to lose the taste, as that among other things, through imprudence of him that served, for some days he lived of sheeps-suet, instead of butter, drinking some times very oil instead of water, his eyes not looking upon it. And these unctuous meats, he would hardly endure to be set before him, even in time of convalescency: for ordinartly hefed for most part on nothing else then bread, dipped in hot water, or some broth made of pulse, or else a little milk: and if perhaps sometimes he were fain to taste any wine, the cup would return from his mouth again, as if it had not been touched at all.   

The continuation of the rare Virtues of S. Bernard: with an example or two, of the deep attention of his mind to heavenly things. Chap. 6.  
FRom this mortification of the flesh, though otherwise but little rebellious or disobedient to the spirit, and by such manner of recollecting of the interior powers, came that blessed soul of S. Bernard in short time to square itself, and to be purified in such manner, as like to a polished and lucid glass, it received right well, the rays of eternal Wisdom, and he not only purchased a most excellent habit of meditation and prayer, but even mounted also anon to a very high degree of contemplation, by means whereof being abstracted from exterior operations, and liquifyed with ineffable sweetness, in a deep silence, he would unite himself, with most chaste embraces of the highest good. Besides, in the very mechanical occupations themselves, through a certain privilege, he had the grace, together with the whole outward man, to attend to the work in hand, and with interior to deal and discourse with God, satisfying the conscience with the one, & with the other feeding the will. For indeed S. Bernard was none of those, who under pretext of contemplation, eschew travail, or else for private gust, forgo the public good: so as hardly with grievous and most irksome maladies could he be drawn from the Choir, where with gravity and wonderful modesty he would persevere in praising and blessing God. In the labours of the hand likewise he abhorred all liberty, or any manner of exemption at all: as if he even but then entered into the Monastery.  
Going once with the Monks to reaping of corn, and not knowing well how to use his sikle, he was bid to sit down, and rest himself; whereat he being sad, prayed with such fervour to God, that he might not be unprofitable, as that changing on a sudden his manner, he began to reap so readily and dexterously, as if all his life he had never practised any thing else. True it is, that in the exercises which required much strength of limbs, as in carrying of burdens, in digging and delving the ground, and other such like works, when through his delicate complexion he was ready to sink under the same, he would get himself to some services less difficult, but yet more abject and vile; so recompensing in that manner the pains and travail of the one, with the baseness of the other, and showing himself always as might be equal or rather inferior to his companions. And these rules he did keep in things which were imposed by the Superiors, either to him in particular, or to the Convent in general. But when the ministry was not common, and the obedience exacted no corporal application, then S. Bernard being abstracted from visible thing he would be so absorbed in the attention of the mind, as in him all operation, and all sensitive memory, as it were seemed quite to be extinct. To which purpose are recounted two notable examples.  
The one, that he having as it were, all day travailed along the Lake of Losana, and his companions at night discoursing thereof, he demanded of them very seriously, what Lake was that they talked of?  
The other example was, that he being to visit the Monks of Chertosa, there was brought him in haste by a stranger or secular a steed well apppointed, and handsomely furnished, whereon the holy man being mounted, and come to the Charter-house, was hardly welcome, and entreated with much reverence by the servants of God: who remained all exceedingly edified with their guest; saue only with the furniture of his horse, while to them it seemed, such quaintness therein, gave no good odour of poverty: so as the Prior himself could not hold, but must needs break a jest thereupon to one of S Bernard's companions, who with religious zeal soon told it to the Father: and he turning himself on the one side to the Prior, and on the other to the horse; made show with great sincerity also himself to wonder at such trappings, ingenuously confessing, he never had perceived the same. At which words, the good Prior in a manner remained confounded, for having himself at first sight noted a thing, which the other well mortified in the sense of the eyes, and attentive to the interior, could not once discern in so great a journey, and space of tyme.  
Besides which, the divine man, not only in commodious and easy things, but even likewise in public mortifications was far off from all manner of noveltyes: in so much as having for some years very secretly worn a cilice, being an austerity not commanded by the institute, and the same by accident being discovered, he laid it suddenly aside, not to seem singular to men, or eminent among others. And this was also the occasion, that howbeit poverty was ever grateful to him; yet shunned he as much to be wholly careless of the exterior habit, and to seem uncleanely, which in a manner is wont to turn away men's eyes from one.  
The very same may be said of the Saints learning and graver studies. He was wont in the fields and woods, treating with himself and God only, to receive frequent lights from heaven: and in prayer and meditation to penetrate the highest Misteryes of Divinity. Whence to his more confident and dearest friends, with a religious jest he affirmed sometimes, he never had other Masters, than Beeches and Oaks. Nevertheless, that the world might not think he had been taught miraculously, he failed not to read, and read over again whole books at times, and in the very reading was accustomed with particular delight and profit of spirit, to stick upon the text and words of the sacred Scripture, with leisure ruminating upon them, and therewith deducing rare and strange conceits, and therewith afterwards helping himself with that copy, elegancy, and dexterity, as his divine treatises & discourses show. And notwithstanding with much humility also, he would consider the studies and interpretations of the Fathers and Catholic doctors, not comparing ever his opinion with theirs, but the Monks her brethren, & especially the Abbot, whose most excellent virtues so rung in the ears of men. Putting herself then in order, with a greattrayne of servants and ostentation of apparel and jewels, all gorgeous and glorious she went to Clarevallis: but had a far different welcome from that she expected. For that S. Bernard understanding the gallantry, and pomp, wherewith she came, being all enframed with zeal, said; this snare of the devil, this ruin of souls, shall not come in my sight. Andrew being one of the younger brothers, & then at the gate of the Monastery, seeing his sister so brave and gorgeously attired, with a severe look and bitter voice, stuckeno●… to call her among other things, A painted sepulchre, the others, through the example of S. Bernard remained retired, and hid from such aspectacle. Whereupon the poor wretch compunct, and wholly confounded, & melted in tears, answered, sighing deeply from her hart.  
Though I be a sinner, yet Christ, he died for such; & because I acknowledge myself to be miserable, I do therefore approach unto the good for help and counsel: if my brother despise my flesh, let not the servant of God y●… abhor my soul. Let him come then, and command me, for I am ready to execute whatsoever he shall appoint me.  
The Saint laying hold of such a promise, failed not to come forth unto her. And since it was not in his power to part her from her husband, at least he advised her of the danger she was in, by following so her senses, and exhorted her, that abandoning those vanities; while time yet served, she should attend to do pennanc●…: and in sum, she should set continually before hereyes, for glass and pattern, the life and manners of Aletta their Mother, since she had lived with her some while, and that she must needs remember her very well.  
The words of the servant of God were of no light moment: they enkindled in that breast as in a solid and substantial matter, so tenacious and burning a fire of Charity, as returning home, not without the astonishment of as many as knew her, she cha●…ged her manners on a sudden, and the whole care of the body she turned to the dressing of the mind: she likewise herself attending to watchings, prayers, fasts, and alms, and that not for a few days only (as commonly is wont) but with such constancy and longanimity, as that her husband himself now holding her in veneration, and not daring to hinder the course of so great virtues, at the end of two years, give her leave to retire, and consecrate herself in the Monastery of Villeo whereof we have made some mention above. Where the happy woman living to the last, with exceeding edification, showed herself to be not unworthy, either of the blessed stock she came of, nor of the happy branches that encompassed her round about.   

The strange vocations of diverse persons, of several conditions and state, to Religion, by the means of S. Bernard. Chap. 8.  
IN the mean time, the Cistercian family, according to the visions, made a notable increase, and multiplied in such manner, as in the space of few years, there was plenty of them through diverse Kingdoms and Provinces. And now at this time the resolution of such as took the habit grew not (as sometimes it happens) through temporal necessities, or humane designs, but sprung (for the most part) from supernal and generous motives, partly foretold, and partly also obtained through the prayers of the Saint, as may clearly appear by some, for example sake, which we will here put down.  
At the fame of the man of God, came a troop of gallants to visit him, being all very dissolute young men. Now, Quinquagesima was a time, when the Catholic Church, all sad, for the bitter fall of our first Parents, exhortes mankind to wholesome penance, & when even the faithful themselues (O lamentable case) partly alluted with sensuality, and partly quite transported with the torrent of evil custom, attend more than ever to wantonness, feastings, and banquets.  
These Nobles, being violently set upon the same custom, and wholly inflamed with youthful heat, while they remained in Clarevallis, went seeking a fit place somewhat near to the Church for their marshal sports and turneaments. The thing was much displeasing to the Abbot, wherefore with instance he prayed them for the present at least to desist from such exercises, and to make him a gift of those few days of Carneval. The unbridled youths stopped their ears unto so reasonable a request, remaining stiff in their foolish purpose; then replied the Saint: I trust in our Lord, he will grant what you deny me. After this, calling for a cup of Wine, he first blessed it, & then invited the Gentlemen to pledge him, and taste of it (which he called the wine of souls.) They all drunk cheerfully thereof, some few only excepted, who took the invitation in ill part, for fear some hidden power, and enchantment, as it were, might be in that wine, that might alien their minds from more grateful and pleasant things. Nor was the suspicion altogether in vain: for scarcely had they taken their leave of the Abbot, and were gone out of the Monastery, when being touched and pricked with new inspirations, they began to discourse together of the continual perils and foolish glory of the world. With which discourse they were so inflamed, as immediately without more ado, they all agreed to return to the cloister, and humbly demanding admittance into Religion, they continued there courageously, enduring many labours with much fortitude and patience: a change surely worthy of much admiration, but yet no less marvellous are these that follow.  
The Saint being once to make a peace of much importance, in going to Mentz a principal city of Germany, the Archbishop of that Metropolis, understanding of the approach of so great a man, sent a principal Clerk called Mascolin to meet him with honour, and to receive him worthily on the way. This man arriving to the presence of the Saint, and having reverently declared to him how he came from his Lord the Archbishop to wait upon him, S. Bernard stopped, and fixing his eyes a while on the Clerk, said to him, he was sent by another Lord to serve him. The Germane was troubled at the answer, and not penetrating awhit what he meant thereby, affirmed again, that he came being sent by the Metropolitan himself; the servant of God on the contrary, replied: You deceive yourself, the Lord that sent you indeed, is yet greater than he, to wit, Christ himself. Then finally the good man understanding what he aimed at: Your Paternity thinks perhaps (replied he) that I intent to be a Monk? God forbid the same as yet never came into my thought. Notwithstanding the Saint forbore not to rehearse again, that by all means that must fall out which God hath disposed of him, and not what the Clerk himself hath thought, or not thought of. What more? He had not finished his journey, but he resolved with himself to leave the world, and a little after in company of many other honourable and learned men, gained by the Saint in that journey, he came to exchange his habit in the Monastery of Clarevallis.  
A more notable success yet was that other of Henry brother of the King of France. This man being come to deal with the glorious Abbot, about certain temporal affairs, the treaty being ended, desired the Monks might be assembled to salute them all together, and to recommend himself (as he did) unto their prayers. With this occasion, that wise Pastor entered into some spiritual disourses with the Prince, and in the progress of conversation together among other things, he said to him: I hope Sir, you shall not dye in the state you are now in at this present; but that very soon you shall know by experience, how efficacious the intercession is which you have requested of these poor servants of God. Nor was it long ere the prophecy was verified. On that very day through divine inspiration, Henry did determine to follow by the straight way the steps of Christ, & without delay he put his purpose in effect: his family and the Nobles that accompanied him thither, lamented him no less, then if that Royal youth had laid dead before them, and extended on a hearse.  
But among others on Andrew Parigino could by no means brook it, being greatly affected to Henry. He was even mad with anger, and seemed to let fall from his mouth curses, banings, and all whatsoever grief and rage could suggest unto him; when Henry on the other side (that yet loved him well) began earnestly to entreat the Saint, he would seek above all others to convert this man. To which S. Bernard answered: Let us let him alone for the present, for the poor man is now full of bitterness. Nor do you take any thought thereat; I can assure you he is yours. With these words Henry being inflamed with new hope, and greater desire began to instance anew the blessed Father to delay no longer to give him the assault. Then S. Bernard replied with a severe countenance: What ail you? Have I not told you already, he his yours? The standers by hearing the discourse between them, and Andrew himself among the rest, who being obstinate in his manners, and far from changing his habit, and doing penance, bowing down his head (as he confessed afterwards) said within himself to the Abbot: Now I see thee very well to be a false Prophet, I know for certain thou hast said one thing, and the contrary will fall out: Go to, go to, let me come to the Court once, and on my credit, the King shall understand of all, and I will make thy lies appear to the world.  
While this wretch makes these accounts alone with himself, they being in suspense, expected what would be the issue of the matter. When seeing him the day after to depart from thence without any thing done, the faith and credit in some began to stagger, and the former conceit which they had of the servant of God: but our Lord permitted not the temptation to continue long; for that Andrew being now on his way, though his conscience began to sting him a little, yet for a while went he on cursing the Abbot, and Monastery, where he left his Master, and wishing the whole Clarevallis might sink, with as many as were in it. But these brauadoes and stiffness of his lasted that day only; for being arrived to his lodging at night, he was so inwardly gauled with such stings, as that being not able to resist any longer, without attending so much as till day, he leapt from his bed, and speedily returned back to Clarevallis again, where deposing the old man, with his wont manners and fierceness, he put on the new, to the great consolation and wonder of all.   

Certain noble Gentlemen yielded up themselves to S. Bernard: whereof one having a temptation afterwards, was happily by him quit thereof. Chap. 9  
IN those days certain Flemings sped very well, who beside they were of a Noble blood, and well learned, had likewise a great desire to attend to perfection, but could not well determine what school was fittest for their purpose; and in this suspense of mind stood wavering, until S. Bernard about some public affairs happened to go into those parts of Flanders. And as his Name was now famous already, at the appearing of such a man, sprung a notable light in the minds of those disconsolate lovers of wisdom, so as without more delay they made choice of the Abbot of Clarevallis for Master and Superior, supposing he was destined thither by the divine Providence for their salvation; selling and dispatching then each one their business, and laying aside the vain designs, and deceitful hopes of the world, they went joyful with S. Bernard towards Burgundy, who then likewise had finished his affairs. In which journey there happened an accident not fit to be let pass.  
It is an ordinary thing, likely in all beginners in the divine service, and not yet experienced enough in desolation or substraction of grace, and spiritual vicissitudes, when that gust of sensible devotion comes once to fail them, and that pleasant light which puts them hastily on, to lose on a sudden all courage quite, and to fall into pusillanimity of spirit, and sadness of hart. The occasion thereof do Wisemen say to be this: the Rational substance cannot endure to be straitened, and some delight either heavenly or terren must be. Now the souls, as being raised above themselves, with some taste of supernal pleasures, do easily renounce the visible objects: so when through divine dispensation, that joy is taken away from them, finding themselves deprived of this also, and not accustomed to expect with patience the returns of the new Sun, it seems to them they are neither in heaven nor earth, and are as buried in a perpetual night; so as like babes having lost the breasts they languish and sigh, and become tedious, and irksome chiefly to themselves.  
The same happened on they way to one of that company called Gaufrid. This man being suddenly grown arid, and full of interior darkness, began to bethink himself of his friends, parents, and goods, which he had left behind, and thereby was assailed with so strong a temptation, as being not able to dissemble it in his countenance, one of his more confident and intimate friends was aware thereof, and dexterously approaching to him, with sweet and benign speech in secret, said to him: What is the matter, Gaufrid? How happens this I pray you? go to, tell me, for it seems to me you go pensive and sad, more than ordinary? Then Gaufrid answered with a deep sigh: Alas brother, I shall never be merry more in all my life. The other being with that word moved to pity went suddenly, with fraternal zeal, to acquaint their common Father what passed, who understanding the danger, began to pray for him in a Church thereby, and Gaufrid in the mean while being overcome with sadness, reposed his head on a stone, and there fell a sleep: but long it was not ere both arose, the one from prayer with the grace obtained, and the other from his sleep with a face so cheerful and serene, as his friend much admiring at so sudayne and great a change, could not hold, but friendly upbraid him with what he had answered him a little before. Then Gaufrid said: if I told thee before, I should never be merry again, I now affirm 〈◊〉 thee, I shall never be sad more. And this same Gaufrid afterwards, in the Noviceship being desirous of the eternal salvation of his own Father, recommended him to the Saint with much affect and confidence. And he said; doubt not, son, but thy Father shall be a good Religious man, and I myself after his death shall bury him with these arms: and so it fell out, that old man being entered into Religion, and grown very perfect in virtues, fell greivously sick, at such time as S. Bernard was far from Clarevallis, in which infirmity of his he grew daily more sick than other, lying in extremity for some five months continually together, until the Abbot returning, with his assistance he sweetly rendered up his spirit in his arms, and with his own hands buried his body with his wont Charity, and performing of due exequys.  
Another time, being gone to Chalon in champagne to deal with the Bishop of that City, he thence lead with him at his return a good number of excellent subjects: and such manner of purchase●… with the help of the divine hand he made happily from time to tyme. Besides which, there wanted not daily many, that being alured by his Name, and glutted with the deceits of the world, came voluntary of their own accord to submit themselves to the obedience of so great a guide. Whence no wonder is it, that from the garrison of Clarevallis, should be sent after (as we have said) so fit supplies, as there did, to so many parts of Europe.   

S. Bernard divinely admonished, changes his stricter hand upon his Novices, to a milder way, with the good fruit that came thereof. Chap. 10.  
IT remains now to see, what manner the divine man took in guiding and governing the Souls, recommended and committed to his care by the Prince of Pastors. It is then to be understood, that in the first years of his Prelacy, in measuring others fervour by his own, he was something more rigid and severe, then good and moderate government would seem to bear. For that in receiving of Novices into the Convent, he was wont to bid them (among other things) by way of Enigma, to leave the body without, and to enter only with the spirit. Through which saying of his, some of the simpler of them, remained so astonished, and terrified therewith, as they were after not able to understand the sense and meaning of those words, though the Saint himself explained the same. In the confessions which he heard of his Monks, with a bitter countenance he abhorred any manner of defect; esteeming every light fault in Religious, as a mortal sin. In his Sermons, or as we say Homilies rather, in the speculative, he often soared so high, as the hearers understanding, would lose the sight of him: and instead of being fed and refreshed, would come to be dry and arid. And for the moral, he required so curious & exact perfection of all, as the poor disciples, besides hope of gaining it, came to lose the desire & will of procuring it.  
With these and other such proceedings, the greater part of the Monks, especially of the younger of them were soon oppressed with a certain sadness and timidity withal, which both took away devotion, and hindered their profit in solid virtues. Among which inconveniences was yet this good beside, that the Monks through the great opinion they had of their common Father, would lay the whole fault thereof, partly on their own tepidity, and partly also on their poor wit, and small capacity, without ever once complaining of the Abbot, or opposing any thing which he said, or diminishing awhit the reverence they bore him. It pleased God this humility of the subjects should get the uper hand upon the Superior: because, that he being lastly overcome and compunct in a manner at so much submission and modesty of theirs, began to assume to himself the occasion of loss, and to say within himself. O Bernard, how much better were it for thee to attend to the amendment of thine own imperfections, than so to disquiet with too much severity and importune discourses the souls more timorous of God, and more religious than thee? Now, are not these servants of Christ, better able to walk with their simplicity, then with thy indiscretion? And to learn much better the spiritual doctrine, in one only meditation, in dealing with the Highest Wisdom, then by all the preachings and exhortations thou art able to make them? Learn then at last, that the Abbot Stephen hath laid a packsadle on an Ox's back, & that this governing of others is not thy talon.  
With these thoughts, the man of God began to enter into so great a bitterness and hatred of his actions, as he determined to retire himself more than ever, and to abstain from all pastoral functions, what possibly he might, until such time as had some clear sign of the divine will: nor was his expectation awhit in vain, because it was not long, but there appeared to him by night a little child, clothed all with eternal light, expressly commanding him, he should desist to propose unto him, what his hart seemed to dictate to him, since it was not he that spoke to them, but the Holy Ghost discoursing by his mouth. And together with an inestimable gift, beside, of a sweet & discreet maturity, whence he might learn to compassionate the weak, to temper himself to the capacity of the rude, and to condescend to each what he might well do with the safety of Monastical discipline.  
Hereupon the rigorous Abbot, in this point being changed as it were into another man, began with extraordinary tenderness, and solicitude to prevent the necessities of each one, and not only of the souls, but even also of the bodies, providing as much as possibly he might, that every one being free, and delivered from temporal troubles and molestations, might attend with the whole mind to the purchase of virtues, and to the divine service. Howsoever yet to himself only, and his own person, the man of God, not altered awhit his former customs, for that indeed in him (as is signified already) the appetite was naturally much subject to reason, and had no need through force of chastisements & scourges to reduce it to servitude. Whence came the flesh to be a great deal more weakened in him, and afflicted with sundry infirmities▪ in so much as the Physicians were astonished, how the Holy Abbot amidst so many dolours, could attend to occupations of any sort; and resembled him just to a Lamb being put to the plough: & he himself also at the latter end of his age, was finally aware thereof and accused himself for excess of maceration of the body, and for destroying his complexion with austerityes, enfeebling the organ of the Holy Ghost, and consequently for hindering on his part the greater glory of the divine goodness.  
But for these new proceedings of his which we spoke of, it cannot be expressed, to what edification & public commodity they redounded. Because (which are the effects of known love) there sprung very suddenly a noble strife and contention, between the fatherly indulgence of the Master, and generous fervour of the disciples, being all (for the most part) well descended; so as by how much he showed himself to them to be a less strict exactor, so became they ordinarily more rigid censurers of themselves, extending themselves to the perfect observance of vows and rule, not leaving a defect unpunished, and holding the allurements and enticements of sensuality far off from them. And the matter proceeded so far indeed, as not without some manifest peril of life, they went about in diverse kinds to take away all taste and relish of meat and drink, as seeming to them a thing unlawful, that he who hath laid up his treasures and delights in heaven, should take any gust or pleasure in terrene things. And they were so rooted in such an opinion, as hardly with sundry examples and reasons, and with the authorities of the sacred Scriptures themselves, could they be brought to understand, that each creature was good, being used in time and place, and with due moderation. Note this finally, they left that pernicious error, but yet they wanted not matter of mortification. First the divine offices were celebrated with greatest attention, and that for a good space of the day, and night. Moreover the Monastery as yet not having any manner of rents, their holy poverty was here so much the more easy and familiar unto them, as it was more straight embraced and cherished of each one. Heerreto was added the straitness and incommodity of the dwelling, which while they sought to remedy, their continual labour of the hands at certain hours appointed, afforded them no leisure for sloth and idleness.   

The sage and prudent government of S. Bernard, in guiding his Monks: with his inflamed Charity to his Neighbour. Chap. 11.  
AMong all the labours and travails of these blessed men, as there were many things of excellent example: yet was there none of greater edification to the beholders, than the continual recollection and silence of so many servants of God; so as, within the same habitation was jointly to be seen a noise of a multitude, and a silence of a solitude, and that surely not without cause. For that as a man which is solitary, if he be inwardly unruly and distracted, makes of his hart a very Inn or Marketplace; so a number of persons well disciplined and composed, through means of good order and custody of the senses, represents in the thickest concourse of people a very desert or hermitage. This continual discipline and custody of the monks, was to them an exceeding help for the union with God. Whereto also they approached so much the nearer, as they had always more lively and admirable examples of all Christian virtue before their eyes, in the person and actions of the holy Abbot. In whom was seen so burning a Charity, as he never pretended or wished aught, than the honour of God, and salvation of souls; procuring ever the one and other, with the form and manmer of his life, with heavenly conversation, with prayers, with the labours of writing, and of interpreting the divine Scriptures, and finally as occasion served, with private and public discourses.  
For eloquence, it was a thing in the blessed man more Angelical than human, with so much sagacity would he discern the peccant humours of men; with so much dexterity accommodated himself to their wits, docility, and manners. He would deal with the country people, as if he had continually been bred up in a village: with the Nobles he kept all the points of good breeding: with the Idiots he would use comparisons and conceits of material and palpable things: with the learned and Sophisters he knew well in his time, to stand upon subtilityes and acumens: and in sum had a great store and copious variety of baits and hooks proportionate to the gust, forces, and nature of each one. To this so excellent prudence of his in practice, and so happy and rare a faculty of speaking, was adjoined another gift and privilege, indeed not afforded to many, to prove when need required his doctrine, with frequent, and great, and those evident Miracles. Whereof, besides what already hath been touched (not to go forth here from our purpose) we shall discourse with our wont brevity in its place.  
But with the ardent Charity of the Saint, we spoke of, he gave us likewise a most clear demonstration, in the sorrow and compassion he felt for the perverseness, and fault of his Neighbours, especially of such as he had under his government: which in so great diversity of nations and temperatures, may not seem very strange that some disorder now and then should fall out; and that so much the rather, as the Religious state supposeth men not already to be perfect, but studious, and (so we may even say) scholars of perfection, in as much as each discipline and art (as the Philosopher said) is in erring learned. In such occurrences then, the good Prelate, though touched in the soul with the sharpest stings: yet nevertheless with familiar countenance and paternal gravity withal; would not hold in secret from rebuking the delinquent; who coming hereby to acknowledge the fault, and to show forth true penance, the man of God contented with the humble satisfaction, would comfort him, and proceed no further. And when the guilty showed himself stiff, and gave a harsh answer, he would suddenly cease to strive or contend with him, not to put in some sort his pastoral authority in danger. But leaving to the disciple new space to acknowledge his error, with occasion he would return again afterwards to the same office of loving correction; or else when necessity required, he would betake himself to the counsel of the Scripture, which adviseth, the foolish man not to be corrected with words. And when this last remedy at any time proved unprofitable, it cannot be expressed what affliction and corrasive the blessed Soul, would take thereat.  
And if any perhaps should wish him not to grieve so much at it, since he had fully satisfied his duty in the sight of God, & that he could by no means do any more with one that through obstivacy would needs perish; the amorous rector would answer sighing, how these nor infinite reasons could quiet him, in beholding him as dead before his eyes whom he loved so much: & you would have me (saith he) to feel no grief at so ill success, as if in this reprehension and rebuke, I had for scope only the saving of mine own soul, and not rather the salvation also of that of my beloved? And what Mother is there, that howbeit on her part she have used all care and diligence in her child's infirmity, if she see it dead, who can choose but lament and bewail the same, considering the while the pains she hath taken for it in vain?  
Such than were the bowels of this true follower of Christ, whence it would happen likewise, that if he had denied any thing at the first to any indiscreet and importunate suitor, he could by no means deny him the second tyme. Forasmuch as even by natural instinct, his hart would not serve him to behold any one contristate and afflicted, so as he never despised or made light reckoning of the trouble and perturbation of any one tempted: and how be it in its time he could show, that he sought rather the pleasure of God, then that of men, and preferred truth and justice before any other respect whatsoever; yet did he all with such regard, and so much circumspection, as even to such as seemed offended with him there wanted not matter to remain well satisfied. Whence sometimes it happened, that such as these would become afterwards more devout, and affected to the man of God, then ever.   

divers examples of the meekness and patience of S. Bernard: and how 〈◊〉 Monastery of Clarevallis flourished by him founded. Chap. 12.  
IT may not seem strange, that so much piety to Rational creatures should seem to lodge in that sacred breast, since he wanted not tenderness and affection also to the very Beasts themselves. It fell out sometimes he should meet on the way with Hares hoatly pursued by the hounds even at the heels; or else some Fowl flying from the hawk, which the blesled Man beholding, would strait deliver them from the present danger with the sign of the Cross, signifying to the hunters (as indeed it happened) that they pursued them in vain. From this so burning a furnace of Charity, with reason proceeded that refined gold of his solid Patience, which he truly made manifest in the continual tribulations, scourges, & infirmities, wherein he was proved by our Lord, from the beginning of his blessed conversion unto his last breath; in so much as his life was esteemed by such as familiarly conversed with him, to be a lingering death, except only in occurrences of some great vniuer●… benefit. For in such necessity through divine dispensation he would seem to have gotten new forces, and extraordinary vigout. And even with men also (though perhaps not so often) he had sufficient occasions to show himself armed with invincible sufferance and constancy.  
He would speak as well through experience, as speculation, very learnedly of this most excellent virtue, and was wont to distinguish the subject thereof into three manner of offences, to wit, of honour, of goods, and of the person: according to this division, let us see briefly how he behaved himself in effect.  
The great servant of God had written on a time, to a Bishop being a principal Consailour in the Court, entreating hi●… to give certain advices and admonishments in a thing 〈◊〉 some matters that went not well. Whereat the Bishop being ●…gely offended, wrote back a letter again to the most devout S. Bernard, dealing with him at the very beginning as with an impious and wicked blasphemer. To which so sharp and bi●…●…proach, answered the servant of Chr●… with these words: I cannot believe now, I have the spirit of blasphemy in me, nor was 〈◊〉 ever any intention of mine to speak ill of others, and especially of my sovereign Prince. And this Answer of his, he afterwards accompanied also with actions so loving, and with so much observance towards him, who had so wronged him, as he gained him at last, and made him his greatest friend.  
After the enterprise of Sozia, which under the conduct of Lewes King of France, through wicked perfidiousness of the Grecian Emperor, had taken but ill success, there were some that traduced the fame of S. Bernard, as who had been the principal author of that expedition. Whereunto being not able to give a particular account to every one of his motives, and of what had passed in the voyage, at least he prayed often for them all, being a great deal more sorrowful for their sin, then for his proper infamy: & being not able to suppress such murmurs rejoiced at least, that those poisonous shafts of the slanderous ignorant, were aimed all at himself (who did little respect them,) and much rejoiced that the divine Majesty and Providence, was come to be entire, and untouched by those impious people.  
There were once 600. marks of silver intercepted by the way from the servants of the man of God, being magnificently assigned by the Abbot of Farco, to the behoof and benefit of the Order. To which news the Saint replied with a cheerful countenance: Blessed be God who hath delivered us from such a burden: and he truly who hath taken away the money, in some sort deserves to be excused, since such a sum might well give a shrewd temptation. The same tenor he kept of a serene mind, without contention, or strife at all, when there were taken from him, partly through deceit, and partly by force about some ten Monasteries, or places at least very apt to erect foundations for them.  
A certain Regular of another Monastery being tem●…ted, and not sound in his vocation; having read some spiritual tr●…ses of S. Bernard, went his ways to Clarevallis to make instance unto him, to receive him among his: to whom the blessed Man sweetly answering, wished him to return, not seeming good to him for just respects to yield to his request. Why have you then (replied the wretch) Father, so extolled Perfection in your writings, if you will not succour and help him, who desires the same? And being urged by the infernal spirit, added: Now than if I had those books in my hands, I would surely rend them in a thousand pieces. To this, the Man of God answered: I do verily think, said he, that in none of them thou shalt find, Thou mayst not be perfect in thy cloister: the amendment of manners, change not of places (if I well remember) I have proposed, and commended in my books. Then went that frantic man quite out of his wits, and lifting up suddenly his most sacrilegious hand, he gave so huge a cuff on the ear to the holy Abbot, that his cheek was presently swollen: whereat with reason the standers by being incensed began to rise up to handle the Wretch as he deserved; but soon the Servant of God prevented the same, exclaiming and conjuring them by the name of Christ, not to touch him, but warily to lead him away, procuring by all means possible, he should take no harm. And thus the wretch all pale, and trembling escaped thence without the least punishment. Moreover this defendor of the Truth, and promoter of the divine service, wanted not his emulous, and persecutors, though he, through the eminence of his qualities, and glory of his words and deeds, had very much overcome their envy.  
With such a pest of men, the jover of Christ used this manner of proceeding: first according to the precept of the Gospel, he would make fervent prayer for them; after that with might and main he sought to extingnish that malignant passion with all manner of submission, and good offices; in rendering benefits for injuries, honour and reverence, for contempt and affronts, as he who had their salvation as dear as his own, and felt particular torment, at the scandal of those, to whom he had given no occasion at all: and the malice of others did excruciate him more, than his conscience seemed to satisfy him, it seeming a matter too difficult for him to cure a malady, whose origine he could not discover: and whensoever he was able to come to the knowledge thereof, he took no greater pleasure then to root it out, although he were thereby to have his hands all mangled and bloody.  
The most holy Abbot was arrived to such a point of the love of God, and of his Neighbour, through the continual meditation of the life and passion of Christ, being truly become the form and example of the flock, which he had in charge, as that now with great reason was the good odour of Clarevallis spread, and dilated through out all Christendom; and in all parts (as we said above) with cost and diligence were the grafts of this happy plant both craved, and procured; nor were there only Monasteryes of S. Bernard founded here and there, but even whole Conuents likewise of other families, came voluntarily to submit themselves unto his obedience, and to conform themselves with all study to the rites and profession of the Cisterce, yea even he himself whose principal care was (as we said) to remain hidden and unknown in that corner, and valley, was yet very suddenly more highly placed by the divine hand, in the light, and sight of men, and obliged to dispense to the benefit of the world, the treasures and graces which he heaped up together in his Cell. Whence Schismatics were reconciled to the Roman Church, Heretics publicly convinced, and Catholics promoted, and established in peace.   

A Schism in the Church arriving about the election of a Pope, was happily ended through the wisdom of S. Bernard. Chap. 13.  
THe first achivement the Saint happened to make for the good of all christendom, took occasion from the Schism of Pierlonio the Roman, who after the death of Honorius, with evil practices, making himself a false Pope, and taking the name of Anaclete, opposed himself to the true and canonically elected Pope Innocent; in which so scandalous a division, both the one and the other endeavouring as well with messages as letters to draw whole Kingdoms and Christian nations to their obedience, the world was put into a great confusion and perplexity, being as yet not able to discern which of these two fornamed Popes they were to acknowledge and adore for lawful Successor of S. Peter, and vicar general of Christ. Upon this then so important an article were assembled in diverse parties of Europe national Synods, and particularly in France was called the Council in the Land of Tampes, where to be able with the more light & more favourable assistance of the holy Ghost to decide so great a difficulty, it seemed good to the King himself, and the more principal Bishops, that above all, the Abbot of Clarevallis should be called thereto, so great was the conceit had even at that time of the wisdom & spirit that spoke by him.  
Being invited then on behalf of the King, and exhorted withal by the other Abbots of his Order (to whom he was ever most obedient) he went his ways thither, wholly full of fear and trembling, considering the weight and danger, and the other qualities of the business. And yet he felt notwithstanding great comfort in a vision which he had on his way by night, wherein was represented to him a very great assembly of Ecclesiastical persons, who with sweet harmony praised and glorified God: from whence he conceived firm hope, that soon after would follow the desired union and concord of the Christian people. When he came then to the place designed, and that the Council was opened, the Faste●… and devout Processions according to Apostolical custom being celebrated, in the same first Sessi●…on, with judgement and consent resolution was made, that the whole controversy should be remitted to S. Bernard, the servant of God, and nothing should be done therein but what he determined. Which charge truly as untolerable, the man of God refused with great modesty, but won at last through the prayers and authority of that holy multitude, he accepted the same, and buckles himself to the enterprise, so much mote stout and confident in God, as he was more dif●…ident and weak in himself. So as invoking the aid of Heaven, & making a most exact inquisition and examine, first of the manner and order of Election, than also of the qualities and merits of the Electours, as of both the elected Pope's themselves, he securely nominated & declared Innocent for the chief and true Pastor; to which proposition was not one in the whole Council which opposed awhit, but suddenly singing a joyful Hymn with the accustomed prayers and thanksgivings, they all with one accord subscribed to the said declaration.  
In the mean time Innocent, being not able to resist the power and fury of the adursaryes, going forth of Rome, and received with due honour & reverence of all Tuscany, he came into France; and the glorious Abbot with the same greatness of courage pa●…ed over into England, where King Henry through the persuasion of some Prelates, declared and showed himself very backward and hard to accept of Innocent. But the venerable Abbot after many reasons alleged in vain, at last full of zeal & fortitude said to him. What fears your highness? doubt you to commit sin with affording obedience to Innocent? Go to then, do but think as you ought to do, to render account to God for your other sins, and do you leave this to me, and I will take it upon my charge. With such an offer made, that mighty King without more ado, was satisfied, and was so assured thereof, as he determined to go forth of his kingdom to go meet, and humbly receive Innocent, who through Provence and Burgundy being come to Chartres, Henry came thither to kiss his feet, who with great common iubiley and give him the Apostolical benediction.  
While many matters touching the divine service, and the holy Church, were there handled and defined in the said place: behold the Pope's Nuntios to arrive thither from Germany with letters from those Lords, and those Countries, full of affectious prayers, that his Holiness would deign so much as to comfort those Northern parts with his presence, since now all, through the example of France and England, acknowledged him for supreme guide, and head of the Church militant. But the Pope so soon could not afford himself to those nations, being with so much devotion continually entertained and desired by the Cities of France, through which having made his progress a while, he intimated a Council in Rheims, where likewise having ordained many things to the honour of God, he after with many solemn ceremonies at the instance of King Lodovik the Father, crowned and anointed Lodovike the son, in the place of Philip his elder brother deceased.  
In these and other actions, the Pope would never suffer the glorious Abbot of Clarevallis to depart from his side, yea diverse supplications of moment were presented unto him, and he would afterwards propose them in the consistory, where S. Bernard was forced to be present, and to sit with Cardinals themselves, undertaking the protection of the opppressed, and showing continually favour to what was honest & just: after which the Council broke up, and the Pope going to meet with the Emperor Lotharius at Liege, was entertained with much solemnity and great veneration. But all that joy was changed very soon into sadness and bitterness: because while it seemed to Lotharius he had a rare opportunity without trouble and difficulty to straighten the Pope, and draw him to his designs; he began to make suit to recover again the investitures of Bishopriques taken away heretofore from the hands of Henry his Predecessor.  
Innocent with his whole Court being strooken with so harsh a proposition and so unexpected, grew pale thereat, and stood as a man wholly void of counsel, as seeming to him he met in Liege with a greater check, then formerly in Rome itself: when the venerable Abbot with freedom of mind and marvellous liberty counterposed himself as a solid wall to the demand & pretention of the Emperor, and so well dissuaded and discoursed, as he soon drew him from that covetous and ambitious thought. An exploit, surely, of a poor Monk truly glorious, and hitherto unheard or; howbeyt perhaps for so happy a success, may some praise also be given unto those times, wherein commonly the Signors and Potentates of Christendom applied themselves of their own accord, or easily at lest were brought to exalt & propagate the splendour and authority of the Apostolic Sea; whereas at this day (O unworthy spectacle) it seems as all were striving to abate the same, to weaken, and even to extinguish it quite. But here let us silence all odious and unprofitable complaints.   

Troubles arising in the Church through the faction of the Antipope, were by S. Bernard pacified, in favour of the true Pope: with the miserable end of a chief Party of the Schism. Chap. 14.  
INnocent being thus freed by means of S. Bernard from the anxiety he was in, and having taken moreover a firm purpose and a inviolable promise of Lotharius to come with his army to Rome, as soon as possibly he might, to quiet the tumults there, and to place him in the pontifical Throne, took his leave of the Church of France, and joyfully went towards Italy, making his journey through Burgundy, and by the way was pleased to visit, and take Clarevallis for his Inn, where receiving much consolation of the voluntary poverty and abstinence, & religious conversation of the Monks, he prosecuted his journey, and arriving at Rome, found Lotharius there ready with his army, by whom being brought through force into the palace of S. john Lateran (being the ordinary residence in those days of the Popes of Rome) yet for all that, had he not the desired contentment to behold things pacified and quiet. Because the Antipope being obdurate in malice, and continually accompanied with armed men, kept himself in hold, and always well fortified in Towers, and more eminent places of the City: from whence with sudden incursions and stratagems without ever entering into open battle, or once seeking to come to a parley with Lotharius, he never left infesting both day and night the friends and defenders of the Pope.  
Whereupon the Emperor being now grown weary of the excess, charge, and small fruit, returned into Almany again: and Innocent finding no better remedy for so great mischiefs, went out of Rome the second time, and assembling together another solemn Council in the City of Pisa, among other things publicly declared Pierlonio excommunicate: of which censure, the miserable man was never absolved. here also S. Bernard, through obedience assisted the chief Bishop, and was not only a helper and partaker of the whole affairs and counsels therein, but may be said more an arbiter and umpire in the business. Which affairs being once dispatched, it seemed good to the Pope to send him to Milan, where the poison of the Antipope having got in, the whole people were found to be in a most inextricable trouble and discord among themselves. Nor was here likewise the arrival of the man of God in vain. He soon reunited the whole City again, and reduced it to the devotion of the true Pope. From hence passing over the Alps, he returned to Clarevallis, and being received by the Monks there with infinite iubiley, at their instance transferred he the Monastery into a more ample situation; whereof the fame being spread through out, there immediately concurred so great alms from Princes and Prelates, and from other devout persons, as in very short space, the building adorned withal commodities was brought to perfection to the great increase of the divine service.  
At the same time the Country of Gascony, and especially the Church of Bourdeaux was fallen as it were into some afflictions and calamities, from whence the city of Milan had been delivered but a little before. Of th●…e mischiefs Gerard Bishop of Angolesme was the principal occasione who with ambitious promises having gotten of the Antipope the, Legacy of Gascony, had drawn to their wicked designs not only a good part of the Clergy, but even many also of the Nobles, yea the Prince himself & Lord of those Country's, called Count William, through whose forces, and other ill practices of his own, he had brought things into those terms, as that against all those that would not consent and subscribe to the election of Anaclete, they openly proceeded with banishments, confiscation of goods, and with other inventions, and examples of fierce and barbarous cruelty.  
One of the chief of those that were persecuted, was William Bishop of Poytiers, a man well qualifyed and exceeding constant in defence of the Catholic Religion. This man with many injuries was expelled from his Church, and a Schismatical and wicked one put into his place. The same happened in the Diocese of Lymoges, where instead of a Catholic Prelate, was placed one Abbot Ranulfus, who through divine judgement, paid full soon the punishment of his impious boldness, since in a plain and even way being fallen from his horse, he pitched his head so shrewdly on a stone, (which lay in the way) that dashing out his brains, he died suddenly.   

S. Bernard having excommunicated Duke William, he submits himself: with the just judgement of God, showed on the schismatical Bishop of Angolesme. Chap. 15.  
AS soon as Gaufrid Bishop of Chartres had notice of so great disorders and inconveniences, to whom the Legacy, and even spiritual government of Gascony was committed by Innocent, he was heartily sorry for it, and laying other business aside, determined to succour those Churches as soon as he could, which were in extreme danger; and for that he knew well how noble an instrument of the divine providence the Abbot of Clarevallis was for such effect, he entreated him very earnestly to accompany and assist him in such an enterprise, And the man of God made no resistance thereunto. But only required, they might pass by the way of Nantes, where Ermengarda the Countess had founded a Convent of his Monks, and it was necessary for him to pass that way, to give order (as he would quickly do) to the affairs belonging to the said Monastery. Gaufrid and S. Bernard then put themselves on the way with an honourable train of Prelates, and other Catholics: and the matters being dispatched which were to be done in the City of Nantes, they entered into the confines of Gascony, where Gerard already with consent of the Count William, had intruded himself into the administration of Bourdeaux, and possessed the two Churches at once, of Bourdeaux, and Angolesme.  
Now the Count understanding of the coming of the Bishop of Chartres, and of the Blessed Bernard, as also of other Bishops and Religious with him, to treat with him in the affairs of Ecclesiastical matters, he thought it not fit for many respects to refuse that parley. They were all then assembled together by agreement in a place which was named Pertinaco, whereby the Servants of God had fit opportunity to express their minds to the full, and it was proposed (among other things) how unseemly it was, that all France being now at the devotion of Pope Innocent, Gascony should only divide herself from the common communion and accord, & cause so great, and so miserable a separation and defection in the people of God: how he could not but know, that the Church of Christ is but one only, and whatsoever out of it, as found out of the Ark of No, must of necessity sink and perish. They likewise reduced to his memory the dreadful event of Dathan & Abiron, who for no other cause, then for making disunion, were swallowed up alive in the earth. To this they added other examples of manifest vengeance and wrath of God against seditious persons and Schismatics. Count William being moved with these exhortations & menaces, partly became flexible thereunto, offering himself to accept Innocent for lawful Pope; and partly showed himself obstinate and hard, being not willing by any means to restore the Catholic Bishops again so violently deposed, and sent into banishment, and that not so much through occasion of the public cause, as for some particular grudges which he had against them.  
This article was disputed a good while in two assemblies, & the second time S. Bernard perceaving, that nothing could be concluded by way of words, he strait recurred to more efficacious and potent means, as in such occasions he was wont to do. Wherefore breaking off the discourse, he goes directly to the Altar, and prepares himself for Mass. Those only entered in, who were not forbid to assist at that dreadful sacrifice, while the Count with others being severed from the Catholic communion, stood without at the gate. When he Priest of God, having finished the whole consecration, and given the Pax to the people, not now as a man, but as one of the spirits of the heavenly squadron, holding the most holy Sacrament over the Paten with flaming countenance and burning eyes, not with a supplant visage, but with a power more than humane, going forth of the Temple, with a terrible voice, thus thundered to the Count: Have we not entreated you, and you despised us? Besides, have not this multitude of God's servants conjured thee, and yet hast thou made no account thereof? Behold the Virgin's son is come into thy sight, being the head and Lord of the Church which thou dost persecute. Behold thy judge into whose hands that soul of thine is sure to fall. And now wilt thou seem to contemn him like wise? Wilt thou also affront his his person, as thou hast his Servants?  
At such a sight, and such words withal, the standers by being astonished and much amazed, began to invocate the divine succours: but the Count himself perceaving the Priest to come towards him with the most sacred body of Christ in his hand, being full of sudden horror and trembling, fell flat to the ground, and presently raised up by his Guard, fell down again, with quivering nerves, without speaking a word, or lifting up the eyes: but only with deep sighs, by the mouth and beard he put forth both foam & spittle, as he had been in a Epilepsy. Then the Servant of Christ approaching unto him, and touching him with his foot, commanded him to stand up, and hear the divine Sentence, in the tenor following: Let the Bishop of Poytiers come hither into this place, whom thou hast banished from his Sea: Go thy ways to him, & with the holy kiss having given the peace, do thou thyself restore him again into his Church, & satisfying our Lord God, give honour to the good Prelate for the injuries & affronts thou hast done him. Moreover in thy whole dominion do thou then regather and recall again into a true union all those who are now in discord & division: Submit thyself to Pope Innocent, & as the other are obedient to him, so do thou also afford due obedience to his Holiness, elected by the divine Majesty.  
The Count hearing this, and being convinced and confounded, as well through the work of the holy Ghost, as with the presence of the sacred mysteries, he neither could, nor durst answer a word, but seeing the Bishop of Poytiers present, went speedily to salute him, and receive him with embraces and signs of love and peace, and without delay conducted him, and restored him to his Episcopal seat again, with the same hand wherewith he had deposed him, and thrust him out. After this the holy Abbot oftentimes looked more sweetly & more familiarly on the Count, advising him to beware henceforth of so impious and temerarious actions, and never more to provoke the anger of God. Nor were the admonitions cast into the wind, since that Prince not only abstained for ever after from troubling the Ecclesiastical union and tranquillity, but even rather in process of time, arrived to the terms of most excellent virtue & Christian charity, as the things that are written of him do sufficiently declare.  
In this manner were matters in Gascony well pacified, save only the Bishop of Angolesme continued still fixed in malice. Who yet soon after, through the just judgement of God was found dead one morning in his bed, with a terrible swelling, without confession, and the last rites. And though for that time, through the help of his dearest friends he was buried in the Church, yet after notwithstanding by order of the Bishop of Chartres, were his execrable bones taken out of the sepulchre, & cast forth to the fowls of the air, and the ravenous beasts. Nor ceased here the punishment, for as much as even his Nephews also with the whole race and kindred of the said deceased, being afterwards banished out their country, went wand'ring into diverse parts, infamous and miserable.   

S. Bernard is sent for to Rome again by the Pope, to pacify the troubles there, with his joyful reception of all the Faithful. Chap. 16.  
IN the mean time S. Bernard having brought so noble an enterprise to a wished end, with the exceeding consolation of his Monks, returned to Clarevallis. Where while he was so far removed from worldly contemplation of divine things, and for the help also of others, being seriously occupied in expounding of the Canticles of Solomon; behold new Letters, and Couriers from the Pope, who after the Council of Pisa being returned to Rome, was yet busying himself to allay the tumults, & to reduce that Church the Mother of all Churches, to some tolerable state at least: but finding every hour new obstacles, as well from Pierlonio himself within the city, as without from Roger King of Sicily, who for private designs of his, did secretly favour the Antipope and Schism, he resolved to call the Abbot of Clarevallis once more for help and counsel, having known already by so many proofs of what avail in such difficultyes was the valour, and prudence, and sanctity of the man of God.  
He sends him Messengers then with Apostolical breifs, and in the same matter, many Cardinals likewise wrote unto him, he would be pleased once more to come to the City of Rome. Whereupon S. Bernard though loath to leave his study and Cell, yet preferring prompt obedience before any just respect whatsoever, prepares himself for the journey, and causing his Monks to be assembled together from diverse parts, after he had a good while sent forth deep sighs and sobs from his breast, at last took his leave of them in this manner: You see, Brethren, into how great disorders, and tribulations the Church of God is now brought. And to say truly, the followers of Pierlonio are now, as it were throughout, by the divine grace pulled away from that feigned Head, and so pestiferous a sect. And even in Rome also a great part of the Clergy & Nobility in their hearts do follow Innocent, though otherwise through fear of some more potent, and of the common people withal corrupted by the Antipope, they dare not openly show forth what they have more secretly laid up in their breasts. So as the West being now subdued, we may say, there remains but one Nation only to be vanquished and overcome: if you make but prayer with spiritual jubily, jericho shall even fall to the ground, and you but lifting up your hands with Moses, Amalech be put to flight. josua victorious in the battle, to have full space of a complete victory very bloody, commands the Sun to stay its course, and is obeyed. And you likewise seeing us, in the heat of the battle, cease you not to afford us your aid and succour with fervent prayers: and in the mean time, be you firm in the way begun, and holy purposes made; and howbeit in yourselves, you be not conscious of any great crime, yet beware you esteem not yourselves in your own judgement to be innocent and just, since to justify, and judge the conscience, appertains to God only: yea, by how much a man is more forward in perfection, so much the less presumes he of the straight & rigorous account of the divine justice. On the other side make you no reckoning of humane judgements, either of yourselves or others, but so keep you under the fear of God, that neither you, in judging by him, come to dash upon some rock of pride or vanity. You are to attend to an exact and continual search into yourselves, and of yourselves; which doing, yet shall you always repute yourselves to be unprofitable servants, as our Lord commands. It behoves me to go, whither the chief Pastor appoints me; and since all this travail is undertaken by me, purely for the service and glory of the divine goodness, I shall not fail to beseech the same with much confidence, to take you into his custody and protection.  
After these words, being accompanied with abundance of tears and devout desires of that pious congregation, he puts himself on the way towards Rome, and being received, wheresoever he passed as a man from heaven, with his arrival he brought extraordinary joy and comfort to the Pope, with all Catholics. And without delay endeavouring with diligence to find out, whence so long obstinacy of the contrary faction proceeded, he soon came to understand, how the Clergy though stung in conscience, yet through fear of losing the benefices obtained of the Antipope durst not forsake him: besides which, the respect they had of a vain constancy and foolish reputation, filled their minds with a cloud of obscurity; but for the popular sort, being likewise deceived partly through covetousness, and partly with a false religion, held it a great scorn, and iniquity to break the oath of fidelity once given to Pierlonio.   

S. Bernard endeavoured in vain to withdraw the king of Sicily, from the part of the Antipope; through whose death peace was restored to the Church again. Chap. 17.  
FRom these errors S. Bernard did endeavour, and not without fruit, to deliver that blind people, when the Ambassadors of Roger King of Sicily arrived at Rome, who with a dissembling zeal of the common good, made show of being desirous to inform himself fully of the truth, and to become arbiter of so great and pertinacious discords, though in secret (as we said) he were held to be a fautour, of the perverse faction, and therefore craftily required Anaclet, to send him Peter of Pisa, a most wise and eloquent man on his behalf, and made instance to Innocent for the Abbot of Clarevallis, that these two as advocates being to argue and plead in his presence, might give him true notice of all, hoping by this means the lowliness and simplicity of one poor Monk might be overborne and oppressed, through the eloquence and cunning of that famous Doctor.  
The said King was very potent, and was at that time with a puissant army in the kingdom of Naples, so as the Ambassadors had no great difficulty to obtain at Rome what they would. But through divine disposition the matter had a far different event from that which the King thought of. Because that Peter and S. Bernard being arrived at his Court, after they had discoursed apart with him, and the principal Officers, there was finally deputed a certain day to both the Procuratours together for public audience. Now what success was to follow of this duel, a certain battle fought between the said King, and the Duke Ranulphus, who was a Prince, and a very virtuous Catholic, gave no small demonstration at that tyme. S. Bernard, with Charity had endeavoured to hinder the said conflict, and to make peace between the two Christian armies; and to Roger had manifestly threatened and foretold, that if he fought he should lose the battle. But he finding himself to have much odds, and advantage over Ranulphus in number and forces, with haughtiness and pride contemning the advices and protestations of the man of God, would needs by all means encounter and set upon him, near unto the City of Salerno: where, with the astonishment of all, there suddenly entering a fear into the camp, he was vanquished by the Duke's army, routed, and put to flight. And yet notwithstanding having reassembled together the unhappy remainder, and with new succours made up a Royal army again; he presents himself in Council and Tribunal on the day assigned for the dispute, having first in private, with great promises and large offers set the Pisan Doctor on fire to purchase himself honour, in sustaining the cause of Pope Anaclete, and in that assembly of noble and learned men to stop the mouth of the French Abbot.  
Peter then full of vain hopes, and of high thoughts, appeared in the Court, where with much eloquence, and great memory and art, depainting forth first the fact, with handsome colours, then alleging and interpreting in his manner the decrees and Canons, he endeavoured to prove how the election of Anaclete had been most sincere and legitimate. On the contrary the holy man having heard the Orator with much patience, began his discourse with great humility and modesty, and by little and little grew into so great vehemency and liberty of heavenly spirit, and with such pregnancy of reasons, and weight of Scriptures, and variety of examples, and comparisons, so defeated the foundations, and discovered the falsehoods of the adversary, as not only almost all the auditory than remained persuaded, but even the Advocate Anaclete himself of being convinced with the truth, and returned to himself, repented he had ever undertaken the protection of the wicked and false Pope; and being afterwards further assisted with the private exhortations of the servant of Christ, failed not to reconcile himself to Innocent.  
But Roger, how beit he could now pretend no ignorance, yet being overwhelmed with diverse passions, could never be brought to the said demonstrations and acts, which in a matter of so great importance ought publicly to be done. Whence S. Bernard being satisfied with his own conscience, and remitting the rest to the divine justice, returned back to Rome, and renewed again the interrupted labour of reducing the souls to the obedience of the Pope, & union of the Church, which till that time had been either seduced through opinion, or enchained by malice. For so great a hurt and notorious a scandal, S. Bernard was exceedingly afflicted: but it pleased the divine goodness soon to deliver him from that grief through the death of Pierlonio: who being seized with a pestilent malady, though he had three days space, to acknowledge his offences, yet obdurate & impenitent, he passed to render account to the eternal judge of his misdeed.  
Being dead, his followers did presently substitute, and set up an other Antipope, who yet being conscious of his own weakness, and the dangers which hung over his head; went by night to seek out S. Bernard, who having lovingly reprehended him, and made him to lay down the ornaments usurped, led him with his own hands to the feet of Innocent, from whom benignly receiving absolution, he was admitted into grace. And from thence began the Pope to give dispatches without disturbance, to attend to reformation, and to take away the abuses introduced in time of the discord. For so joyful success next unto God, they all gave the glory and honour to the Abbot of Clarevallis, & not without reason, since travailing in the enterprise, into divers parts of the world, for more than seven years together, finally in the City of Rome with the divine help most happily concluded the same.  
But the true disciple of Christ being not able to endure the human praises, applauses, & the extraordinary veneration wherein he was held of the whole Court and City, within the term of five days and no more, having got leave of the Pope with all importunity, he suddenly went his ways towards Clarevallis. And for as much as his Holiness required some of his Monks to inhabit near to Rome, he made choice of them, and sent them at that time under the care of one Bernard of Pisa a good Religious man, & a person much honoured in the world, who not long after, Innocent being dead and his successors Celestin and Lucius, was with much approbation made Pope, by a new name, called Eugenius, and to him S. Bernard wrote those most learned books Of Consideration. In this manner than did S. Bernard carry himself in repairing the torn coat of our Lord, and reuniting to their head the members of the Church, with most wicked example so severed and disjoined. And no less vigilancy and solicitude showed he in oppressing and rooting out heresies, which discovered themselves in his time as shall presently appear.   

S. Bernard refutes and confounds Abaylard, a famous Heretic: with other heresies arising at that tyme. Chap. 18.  
THere flourished in those days, with great fame of much knowledge, one Peter Abaylard, a person of an exceeding sharp wit, but proud and haughty withal. This man (as it happens often with the proud) being deceived by the Father of lying; began to disperse writings, full of new doctrine, and of pestiferous opinions: whereof S. Bernard having notice, through his accustomed goodness and benignity, performed the office towards him of fraternal charity; endeavouring that without prejudice and infamy of the writer, those blasphemies might be amended. And truly Peter himself for the present, through the words and Charity of the Saint showed himself to be so changed and compunct, as he promised to remit all to his censure and correction. But a little after, being vanquished through the blind love & vain persuasion of himself, he not only broke his word, but even also taking his advantage of the time, he went to the Bishop of Sans, in whose Church was presently a great Council assembled, and before him very insolently complained of the Abbot of Clarevallis, as of a slanderer, and detractor, and made instance, the Council being opened he might be cited to yield account of the objections and calumnies given out against his books, showing himself to be prompt and ready to defend in public whatsoever was contained therein. Nor did the Bishop refuse him: the time being come, he cities the Man of God to the Synod to justify the said oppositions. There came likewise thither Peter full of pride, founding himself in sillogismes, and his dialectical art: but well it appears how vain human means are against the divine power. Because, the designed day being come for discussion of those articles, S. Bernard in the presence of all those venerable Prelates and Doctors, produced the volumes of Abaylard, and with very strong reasons and clear testimonies of Scripture and holy Fathers, went manifesting and refuting one by one, all the propositions, which digressed from faith, and the Apostolic traditions. And such was the spirit, which in that Session also spoke in the mouth of S. Bernard, as that Abaylard losing in a moment his memory and discourse, full of shame and confusion with the wonder of all was strooken dumb. There was given him space notwithstanding, and election, either to deny those writings, or humbly to amend himself, or else to answer (if he could) to the objections made. But he very hard to repent himself, to gain (as they say) more time, resolved with himself to appeal to the Sea of Rome, howbeit, that sacred Congregation stuck not to reprove the doctrine, though forbore the person: and a little after came the sentence of the Pope, which declaring Abaylard to be a manifest heretic, condemned him to silence, and his works to the fire.  
This disorder being thus remedied, after some years again there appeared another, through the fault of William Perretta Bishop of Poytiers, a man much versed in the divine Scriptures, but temerarious & arrogant, in so much as he had the boldness to meddle with the mystery of the most holy Trinity, with many caprices & subtlityes never heard of before, and that with so much the greater common peril, as he was more pregnant and dexterous, to cover the senses with artificious and obscure words; in such sort, as the poison had much spread itself before any could easily perceive it. To these snares S. Bernard did most valorously oppose himself in the Council of Rheims celebrated by Pope Eugenius, wherein disputing continually for two days together against those impious dogmas, what with quoating and comparing places one with another dispersed and disjoined here and there, with determining of equivocations, distinguishing ambiguityes, inserting of consequences, and deducing of corolaryes; he drove out of darkness & caves, that whole antiquity, and exposed it so to the light, as there remained no more any place for doubt.  
And because notwithstanding all this diligence, some favourers of William hindered that the process could not he finished against him; S. Bernard with his great authority, caused a congregation to be assembled of purpose, where with the consent and subscription of the Fathers of ten Provinces, and of very many Bishops and Abbots, he framed, and added a new symbol, as opposite to the noveltyes of William, & with such means very easily wrought that these perverse opinions should be utterly prohibited, though no chastisement otherwise were inflicted on the Author, since he was in the mind to enter into that dispute with this condition and protestation, that in case his sayings were not excepted and approved by the sacred Council, he would be ready without pertinacity at all, to revoke them quite, and so being demanded if he gave his consent to the said condemnation, answered: Yea, and in full session retracting and detesting the etrours, he obtained mercy.  
No less horrible and pernicious, about the same years, was the impiety of a certain Precursour of Martin Luther, called Henry, a most vile Apostata also, and even possessed wholly with the like spirit of blasphemy; so as he doubted not to open his sacrilegious mouth against heaven, to discover himself to be the enemy of Christ, to assail, and to his power to destroy the Sacraments and Ordinations, and the ancient rites of the ecclesiastical Hierarchy. And as he had a good tongue, and knew well how to handle the people, and entice men to licentious liberty, he made such progress in some parts of Gascony, as now at last here and there were Pastors to be seen without flocks, people without Priests, Priests without due veneration, & finally Christians without Christ himself. To children there was none to open the gate of holy Baptism; the offerings and suffrages of the dead were come into derision; the invocation of Saintes, Excommunications, Pilgrimages, the building of Churches, the keeping of Fasts, the consecration of Oil, and summarily all the institutes and traditions of the Apostolic discipline were had in great despite and abomination.  
At such unhappy news, a Legate being sent from Rome to those parts, in passing by Clarevallis, lead S. Bernard along with him, who being received by those people, with incredibie devotion, he began to fructify among them, abiding particularly in the city of Tholouse: and even in those very places, where the Minister of the Devil had made his most abode, and done most hurt, there S. Bernard being assisted by the right hand of God, with Sermons, and preachings, & with evident miracles beside, in a very few days made a notable purchase, in catechising the rude, confirming the doubtful, reducing the erring, resisting & repressing the authour●… and instruments of the malignity: in so much as in very deed they durst not appear before him, much less oppose and stand against him. Henry himself at the arrival of the Legate, fled presently away, & after he had hid himself here and there for a good while, was at last apprehended and bound, and so delivered into the hands of the Bishop of Tholouse.  
Thus was remedy put to the infernal pest, which otherwise had spread and dilated itself through all those Provinces.   

S. Bernard settles peace and concord among Princes and states, and particularly between the City of Mets, and the neighbour Countries. Chap. 19  
FRom such pains and travails, suffered by the Labourer of Christ, in curing and recovering of Heretics, may every one imagine how much care and study he employed in preserving and helping Catholics. So as, it would be over long and tedious to recount how many great Princes, and other persons of each state & quality, he instructed with great patience in Christian virtues, and from the vanities of the world converted to the love of heavenly things. How many Churches at variance and discord with their Pastors, how many Chapters and Colleges not without most grievous scandal disunited from their head and in themselves, with his sweetness and authority hath he reduced to peace and amity? To how many afflicted and distressed souls hath he given counsel, succour, and comfort? How many fires already kindled of open war between mighty Lords, and neighbour-people with like zeal and prudence hath he extinguished?  
To which purpose, we are by no means to pass over in silence, the accord which he concluded with so great travail between the inhabitants of Mets in Lorayn, and some Neighbour-Princes thereabouts, by whom that noble City being provoked with some injuries, sent forth to revenge the same a great number of Citizens in arms, but with ill success, because they being taken on the sudden through the exceeding disadvantage of the place between the straits of Montefred and Mosella a famous river, & assailed by the enemy, though inferior in number, and put to flight, were about two thousand of them lost, partly by sword, partly in the waters, partly also by their own confusion smothered and crushed to death in the press. Whence the Princes on the other side being rich with the spoils, and proud of the victory, returned home with triumph. Nor yet lost the city a whit of courage, while they seemed to be vanquished more through inequality of the place, then by the valour and skill of the adversaries.  
They prepared then anew on all sides, and doubtless there hung a cruel mortality, and a miserable waist over all those countries. When the Metropolitan Archbishop of Trevers, for the fatherly care & solicitude he had of his people, after he had tried many means in vain, he recurred for the last refuge to S. Bernard the great servant of Christ; and being come to Clarevallis in person, prostrating himself very humbly at the feet not only of him, but of all the Monks also, besought & conjured him withal to vouchsafe to apply some remedy to so great mischiefs and evils, since for such an office of piety in the world beside, was no other person found to be sufficient.  
S. Bernard at that time approached near to the end of his days and being overcharged as well with old age, as infirmities, kept his bed; yet notwithstanding most benignly promised his help, and (as we have said above, is wont to happen in like cases) his forces being suddenly recovered for this affair, he went his ways in company of the Archbishop. When they arrived, they found the two opposite armies, who attending on the bank side of the river, were expecting an occasion to come to a fresh battle.  
From so great a hazard, and so much hurt, sought S. Bernard with prayers and exhortations to deliver the Christian armies, but words availing little, with the efficacious force of stupendious miracles, he filled those fierce and obdurate hearts with such religion and horror, as being finally mollifyed like wax, were all the controversyes by common consent remitted to the arbitrement of the man of God. Whereupon he having brought the procurator of each part under public safe conduct, to a Parley in an island of the River, having now well understood the beginning of the strifes between them, prescribed them conditions and articles of peace; the which without rigour were accepted, and in sign of accord, the Procuratours gave each other their hands, with loving embraces, and those dark clouds, and dreadful lightnings of war, were soon turned into a goodly calm of tranquillity and concord.  
And since we have already often made mention of Miracles of the Saint, and sometimes also according to occurrences declared some of them; you must understand, this matter affords an infinite store of narrations: forasmuch as among other Authors the venerable Gaufrid Monk of Clarevallis, who was companion & Secretary of S. Bernard, affirms for certain and notorious, that in a village of Constance, called Dominge, in one and the self same day, with the only imposition of hands, in presence of a multitude of spectators, he gave sight to eleven blind, healed ten maimed, and fifteen cripples: and in Colonia Agrippina in three days he reared twelve cripples, cured two lame, gave speech to three dumb, and hearing unto ten deaf men. So as certain pious men having begun to note down all such wonders of his, being after oppressed with the multitude of them, and not being able with the pen, to set down the store of effects in that kind, very soon gave over the enterprise. Nevertheless there remains yet a faithful and distinct memory of so many of them, as to go about to set them here down one by one, would be a thing too prolix and far off from our scope. We therefore making choice (according to out custom) of the more notable and of greater edification, shall reduce them to five heads; that is, to the grace of Cures; to power upon devils; to visions or apparitions; to the spirit of Prophecy; and to efficacy of prayer: which, though indeed it may be said, to run through all the other species, notwithstanding for that it wants not proprietyes also of its own, we have thought good to put it down by itself a part; yea & taking beginning from thence, we shall tell what happened to S. Bernard, concerning one of his Monks less mortified, and less perfect than the rest.   

The judgement of God, showed upon one, approaching to receive the Sacrament at S. Bernard's hands, without due preparation: with diverse other Miracles beside. Chap. 20.  
THere was a Monk, that for a secret fault being suspended from the participation of the divine misteryes, and beholding all the others to communicate on a very solemn Feast; the wretch for fear of shame and infamy, boldly also approacheth to the hands of the holy Pastor. Who not willing to expel him thence, the occasion being (as it was said) secret and unknown, turning himself to God from the bottom of his hart, he besought him to put remedy for such and so great a presumption, and herewith ministered to him also the Bread of Angels, as to the rest. But behold the host being received into his mouth, he could by no means let it down, though he strived never so much to swallow it. Whereupon being wholly anxious and trembling, he kept it enclosed within his palate, until such time, as the Communion being past, with an humble sign he drew the man of God apart, and being prostrate at his feet with many tears declared to him what he suffered, & opening his mouth showed him the hoastir self. When the good Father reprehending him for it, as it behoved, went about to reconcile him again, and the Penitent suddenly having received absolution without any difficulty swallowed the heavenly food.  
Another entering a fresh into Clarevallis, to do penance there of his life very dissolutly led in the world; found himself to be 〈◊〉 and exceeding in devout, while his companions with many tears, were cleansing themselves of their passed crimes. Being moved with this example to enter into himself, and trying in vain to imitate them, he recurred with most inward affect of hart to the holy Abbot: who yielding to so honest and pious a demand, obtained him from heaven such abundance of tears, as from that hour the good disciple was never seen to be with dry eyes, and cheeks not dewed with tears. The like power though in a bas●… subject showed the servant of Christ with his prayers, once especially among other times, when he returned from the City of Chalon. There was then a cruel winter and most bitter cold, so as all most all those of his company being shrewdly pinched with the weather, and busyed in defending themselves from the air (as it happens in that case) making much haste, heedlessly left him behind with two only in his company, one of which by chance alighting, his horse broke away from him in the open fields (as the Camel once escaped from S. Antony in the deserts) without commodity of catching him again in haste, when the venerable Abbot turning to him that was lest with him, said let us pray. And kneeling on the ground scarcely had they finished a Pater Noster, when behold the unruly beast, with all gentleness returning back, stood quietly at the feet of S. Bernard, and thus he who had lost him recovered him again. A great expedition surely in regaining him so, but this other which follows was nothing inferior.  
S. Bernard in the Court of the young King Lewes, negotiated a peace of moment, and secretly had the Queen his opposite therein though otherwise openly she showed herself to be devoted to him. This Lady was held to be barren, having now lived many years with her husband without issue, for which she with the whole Court, was exceedingly afflicted. Now she one day with the holy Abbot lamenting herself for such a disaster, with this opportunity he failed not to advise her, that if she would be comforted in her desire, she should cease to hinder the peace in treaty: which she did, and soon after the accord very happily succeeded. Then Lewes through suggestion of his wife, put S. Bernard in mind of the promise made, and he faithfully acknowledged it; recommending the matter so fervently to God, as the Queen at the years end was brought to bed, with the extraordinary joy as well private as public. That effect also was held very memorable, which now we shall tell.  
S. Bernard being ready to depart the second time from Rome, procured with the Pope's consent, some Relics of Saints to carry with him; and visiting Churches for that end, he was offered by the Grecian Monks the entire head of S. Caesarius Martyr. But he of innated modesty, having respect as not willing to deprive those Religious of so noble a treasure, was content to accept as a favour one tooth only. The Monks then endeavour to pull it forth, and being not able with their hands, they broke two knives about it, without profiting a whit: it is fit (said S. Bernard) we pray to the glorious Martyr, he would vouchsafe to do us this favour: he prayed unto him, and after reverently approaching to the sacred skull, without any difficulty he took out one, with two of his fingers, which before could not be stirred with the force of instruments. I will finish this part with the first of all the miracles which S. Bernard wrought.  
The venerable Abbot, returned from a certain Monastery called Three fountains, which was in truth the first which he founded, & behold a Messenger in haste, comes running on the way very anxious, acquainting him how in a Castle at hand, by name Firmita, a kinsman of his called Guisbert, lay in extreme danger of death, having lost his speech before he was able to be confessed. This same was a noble & rich man, & withal a great usurper of others goods, and of a very ill conscience. Whence through the just judgement of God, he was ready to depart this life without the viatique. At which tidings S. Bernard as soon as he had commodity of a Church did celebrate the Mass, and prayed for him, and at the same hour (as was known afterwards in reckoning the times) G●…bert returning into himself, broke silence, and began with tear●… to bewail his sins: but scarcely had S. Bernard finished the Mass, but he fell dumb again, and presently thereupon arrived S. Bernard with Gerard his brother, & Galdricus their uncle: and much instance being made to the Abbot by the friends and kindred that he would be pleased to pray for the sick man; lifting up his mind to God, and touched by the holy Ghost, he answered with all liberty: you know how much evil this man hath done, and how much he holds of other men's goods; let him, and his children make restitution, and renounce the wicked customs introduced, and satisfy the wrongs he hath done to the poor, and so doing, he shall dye like a Christian.  
The standers by were all astonished at these words, and at so firm a promise, not knowing yet the mighty power which God communicated to S. Bernard; and the brother and uncle were more affrighted than the rest, for fear least being deceived by some illusion or craft of the enemy, he proceeded too far to undertake so much. But immediately the success showed the contrary: for that due restitution being made by the Gentleman and his sons; that tongue so tied before began suddenly to be unlosed, and G●…bert being confessed with much contrition, not ceasing ever to ki●… the Abbot's hands, devoutly received the most holy Eucharist, and adjoining thereunto the holy Oil, with all the other ceremonies that belong to that time, the night following, with great edification of all, and all with much hope of eternal salvation, he died.   

In testimony of the Catholic faith, S. Bernard cures all the sick and infirm, with holy bread: and miraculously heals one afflicted with the Palsy. Chap. 21.  
LEt us now come to his Cures: of which so great a number, w●… will take two examples only, which to every right iudgme●… may suffice for a thousand. When the man of God went his waye●… into the parts of Tholouse, to oppose (as we said) against the impious endeavours of Henry the Apostata, it chanced that he preach●… in a certain place called Sarlat: the sermon being ended, those good people came and brought him bread to bless, which he lifting up his hand, and making the sign of the Cross in the name of God blessing it, said: By this shall you see, my Children, how true are the things which we instruct you in, and how false those which our adversary's seek to let you understand; to wit, if your sick with tasting of this bread shall be all cured or no. At his word remained the Bishop of Chartres there present in some suspense, and with good zeal fearing the proposition might be too universal, modifyed the same with adding to the hearers: you must understand,] they shall be cured in tasting thereof with a good faith; When the holy Father confiding and secure of the divine power replied boldly: My Lord, I speak not in that manner, nor do not add any such condition thereunto, but I say in truth, and as the words sound, That as many sick as taste thereof, shallbe all freed of their infirmities, to the end at least that hence all men, may come to acknowledge us to be the undoubted, and true Ambassador of the eternal God. According to the word the effect followed, as many as did eat of that bread, were all cured without exception: whereof the same flew on a sudden through all the province, and so great was the concourse of people desirous to see and adore the servant of Christ, as that in his return from Sarlat to Tholouse, to shun the press, and to have passage, it behoved him to turn out of the way with all secrecy.  
At the very same time, and in the self same Countries, there lay in the College of the Clarks of S. Saturninus, one sick of the palsy that was incurable, called also by the name of Bernard, so pined therewith and worn away as he seemed daily even ready to give up the Ghost. The Abbot of Clarevallis, was besought now by the Superior & by the others of that place, that he would deign to go & see that miserable wretch: The Man of God did so, he went in haste, and benignly comforted the sick man, & having given him the wont benediction, he went forth of the Cell with particular desire, that the divine Clemency in confirmation of the Catholic doctrine, and confusion of the obstinate, would afford some not●…ble demonstration, in this man's extreme and evident peril Our Lord accepted the good will of his servant. He had hardly departed thence, when he saw himself overtaken by the Clerk; Who feeling his nerves on a sudden restored to him, and his joints confirmed, slipping out of his bed, followed the Abbot apace, until overtaking him, at last he casts himself at his feet, kissing them with much devotion, and with affectuous thanksgiving. Whereupon by chance, one of his Colleagues meeting with him, who had left him the other day near death, and with one foot in the grave, he was filled with so great horror, as he was ready to fly from him, as it were from a Ghost; nor to stay until he were certified, & secured by diverse of the truth.  
The same had happened doubtless to many others besides; but the fame of the admirable success being suddenly spread, took away all suspicion quite; and the people with the Bishop and Apostolical Legate, came striving to behold and enjoy so new a spectacle; and after went altogether into the Church, to give due praises to Almighty God, through whose power he atcheived all these things; the Clerk himself going before all, singing with full voice together with the rest: Who being afterwards no less solicitous for his spiritual health, then glad of his corporal, not only very willingly accompanied the Saint to Clarevallis, but likewise submitting himself to his Obedience, took there the habit of Cisterce, & giving good demonstration of prudence, and of Religion; was sent back again by the glorious Father into his Country, with title of Abbot of the Monastery called Valdacque. This fact like wise was very famous, and stopped the mouths of all the Heretics there about.   

S. Bernard dispossesseth two women very grievously infected with evil spirits, in the City of Milan. Chap. 22.  
LEt us now pass to the power and command which the Saint had over wicked spirits; and in this so ample a subject, we will set down like wise two only examples thereof, which shall serve for sufficient conjecture, and consideration of the rest, b●…ing able otherwise to say truly, that no person obsessed, or possessed through secret pacts, by those malignant and unclean Substances, appeared ever before S. Bernard for help, that was not quit and delivered from the infernal tyranny. And though on every side, and at all times, there were occasions to use the exorcisms of the Church, notwithstanding during the schism of Pierlonio, it seems the adversary of humane kind, had through divine judgement obtained particular licence in the city of Milan, to seduce (as we said above) the followers and ministers of the Antipope.  
here then besides many other signs, wrought through divine power by means of this fervent Labourer: one morning as he was celebrating Mass in the Church of S. Ambrose, with an exceeding great concourse of people, there was presented to him by her parents a little Girl of tender age, in whom the Devil most tyrannically reigned, and he was prayed with great instance to take pity of that unhappy Wretch, and deliver her from so cruel torments, which appeared by the shrieks and cries she gave, and in her countenance and in all the parts of her body, with the exceeding horror of the standers by. The tender hart of the good Priest was moved with these prayers, and such a spectacle: who sitting near to the Altar, while the Choir was singing, called for the Patten whereon he was to make the Offertory, and with his fingar distilling some drops of water thereon, he gave it to the possessed person to drink, and immediately the Devil not able to suffer that sacred Antidote, and that blessed effusion, by means of a foul and nauseous vomit, very hastily departed, and the Girl with infinite applause and admiration of the people was restored to her Parents safe and secure.  
After this, upon another day, in the self same place & hour, was a gentlewoman of mature age brought thither by many with main strength, in whose breast now for many years Satan had remained, and so disfigured and deformed her, as that being deprived of hearing, sight, and speech, in putting forth the tongue, like an Elephant's trunk seemed rather a Monster then a woman; besides which, the face all soiled and ugly to see, with a stinking breath withal, showed well the quality of the Guest that kept possession. Being brought then into the presence of the Saint, he knew at first sight, through divine permission, that enemy was of an evil and cruel race, and so inveterate and settled in her, as he would not easily be got forth of so grateful, and so ancient a dominion. Then the servant of Christ, turning to the people which were there in great number, bade them all to pray very attentively, & commanded the Clerks to hold the Woman there as firm and immoveable as they could: but she with devilish force resisting and kicking withal, with her foot came to strike the Priest himself, who not regarding the same, entered into the consecration in such manner, as look how many signs of the Cross he made upon the host, so many in turning himself he made upon the possessed person, with the incredible rage, and dolour of that fiend, as by the gnashing of teeth, and sundry, and those strange, gestures and roaringes and struglinges she made, most manifestly appeared.  
After which the Pater noster being said, the Priest began again to give a more shrewd assault to the adversary, with likewise holding the Paten, with the body itself of our Lord over the Matron's head, and saying: Behold here, O wicked spirit, thy judge; behold the supreme power, now resist, if thou canst; behold him, who being to suffer for our salvation, affirmed that then the Prince of this world was to be banished hence; here is that sacred body, which being taken from the body of a holy Virgin, extended on the Cross, put into a Sepulchre, and risen from death, ascended triumphant into heaven. So then in the power of this Majesty, O malignant spirit, I do command thee to leave this his servant, & not dare to molest her more. That said, and the host (according to the use) being divided into three parts, he gave the Pax to the Monster: which peace and health diffused by him, through all the congregation with particular influence did even penetrate into the soul and body of the possessed, because the unjust and pertinacious possessor went forth immediately from her, declaring thereby of what efficacy and value the Sacrament of the Altar is, especially being handled with the purity and faith it deserves. And it may be well believed with good reason, that this Devil with whom so much tampering was used, was one of the chiefest of the Hellish squadrons, since others of a lower rank not only used to fly away very fearfully from the conjurations used, and presence of the servant of Christ; but even also from his Stole, though he himself had by●… distant far off, as from an object intolerable to him, and a most grievous punishment. Such, and so great was the sanctity of S. Bernard.   

S. Bernard with prayers delivers a soul from pains: with other notable Visions beside, that happened to him. Chap. 23.  
IT follows now that we touch something of the Visions, i●… which, either he appeared to others, or others appeared to him. And be that the first, which himself afterwards was wont to tell unto others. A certain Monk of a good intention but of harsh conversation, and less compassionate to his neighbours than he oughe to have been, in the Monastery of Clarevallis came to the end of his days, and a little after appeared to the holy Abbot with sad countenance and a miserable habit, signifying that matters went not very well with him. Being asked the particular, he added with dolorous accents, that he was given up into the power of huge, and cruel Elves; he had scarcely said so much, when being pushed with a fury, and chased away from the face of the servant of God, he suddenly vanished. Then the Saint with a sigh and compassion as behoved, said, calling after him with a loud voice: I command thee in the name of the Highest, to return to me again within few days, to tell me how thou farest. From hence applying himself to help that soul with prayers and sacrifices, he never gave over until such time as the dead himself appearing once more according to the precept given him, did comfort him with the happy news of his delivery.  
S. Bernard found himself on a certain time in a strange manner to be grieved and oppressed with an excess of cold humours, so as a gush of phlegm continually running from him, soon brought that body, nigh worn and spent already, to a manifest point of death. His children and other Devotees do gather about him, as it were to prepare the exequyes, and he being in excess of mind, seems to himself to be brought unto the Tribunal of Christ, where the ancient adversary was likewise present most outrageously accusing him. The accusation ended, and space given to the servant of Christ to plead & defend himself, not showing the while any sign of perturbation at all, thus answered: I do confess I am not worthy of eternal glory, nor of the heavenly kingdom; but my Lord who possesseth the same by a double title, that is, by paternal inheritance, and painful purchase, contenting himself with the one of the two titles, of the other makes a liberal gift to me, and in virtue of this devotion, I do with reason aspire thereunto. At which answer the enemy was confounded, that form of judgement and tribunal vanished, and the man of God without any more returned to himself again.  
Another time he beheld himself at the Sea side, expecting a ship to pass over, the ship came & approached to him: but being to leap thereinto, it suddenly gave back; so did it thrice together, and at last leaving him on the shore, it went away without returning any more: so as S. Bernard easily gathered, that the hour of his passage was not yet come, notwithstanding his dolours continued so much more sharp and irksome, as he had less hope to be hastily rid thereof. Now it happened in the evening, that all the other Monks going according to custom to the lesson which was made of the collations of the ancient Fathers, the two only assistants of the Abbot remained there, and he being continually more afflicted and tormented with the malady, bad one of them to go into the Church to pray for him. There were three Altars in the said Church, one of the Blessed Virgin, and at the sides thereof two others, to wit, of S. Laurence, and of S. Benet; making prayer then at all three, even at the instant the glorious Mother of God accompanied with those two Saints, with such a suavity and serenity, as may rather be imagined then described, entered into ●…e sick man's Cell, so manifestly, as he, with full and perfect knowledge could easily distinguish each person. Thence she approaching to him, and touching softy all the places of the pains, immediately all malignant qualities vanished, that rhew matique spring in the same moment being quite died up, whence grew the dolours.   

divers examples where S. Bernard in his life time appeared to many, remaining in places far remote. Chap. 24.  
THe foresaid apparitions were made by others unto S. Bernard: now follow some of him to others, of which number one was to brother Robert of the order of Cisterce. This man at such time as the venerable Abbot remained in the City of Rome, fell deadly sick at Clarevallis. In that state appeared to him a young man like to the infirmarian, commanding him to go along with him, and so doing he was straight conducted to the top of a high mountain where Christ was encompassed round with Angels, who said to his guide: look well to that man there; and withal he put a message into the sick-man's hart to deliver the Convent of Clarevallis. The morning being come, he sits upright in his bed, whom every one held to be quite dead, and calling for Don Gaudfrid as then Prior, that was afterwards Bishop of Langres, among other things said clearly to him: Our Lord commands you to erect great buildings to contain the multitude of people, which he is to send you, and for the same end give order that our Brothers who have care of the possessions and tenements be mindful of modesty, and endeavour to give good example to seculars, for woe be to him, through whose default any one should come to fall. From hence twenty days being passed, the sick man still remaining quite forsaken of the Physicians, S. Bernard appeared to him in his cell in spirit, paternally visiting him, sung there the mattyns with a good number of brothers, and passed all that night with him: and the morning being come, Robert without any more ado, arose up sound, and faithfully recounted the manner how he escaped so great a danger. A notable event surely; but this other is no less worthy of memory.  
The servant of God lay sick in Clarevallis, more worn and decayed with labours and infirmities, than years; how beyt he ceased not to attend to the government of his Monks, and to feed them with the word of God, and to rise likewise every day to celebrate Mass, which he never omitted but of mere necessity, reviving his afflicted members with the fervour of spirit. In this while it so happened, that he was fain to send some person of quality into some more remote parts of Germany about matters of importance. For which enterprise a Germane Monk was elected, by name Henry, whom with many other subjects the same holy Father some six years before in his return from Constance, had induced to the divine service. This man entering into so long a voyage, especially in the midst of winter, as one with reason indeed feared many disasters, and above all he doubted, lest the venerable Abbot might come to dye in the mean time, and he remain defrauded and deprived of his last benediction. But the holy Father blessing him for the present and saying: Go thy ways in God's name, for thou shalt return safe, and shalt further find me as thou desirest: and so sent him away full of comfort.  
Being arrived in the territory of Strasburge, as he was passing over a river all frozen with Ice, his beast stumbled, and he without remedy fell quite over head and ears in the water. What could the poor wretch do here being plunged beneath in the waters, above covered with Ice, & both back and sides being dashed with the current? He had surely no comfort but merely the promise of the holy Father, by whom indeed he was not deceived. Because in that agony he saw him before him, and was so full of consolation withal, that now he felt not the violence of the river, nor any difficulty of breathing, nor finally fear, nor any manner of disease at all. Hereupon forsaking the beast he was on, through divine power, he found himself to be pushed softly against the stream without any force of his to the same breach, which with his fall he had made, where taking hold with his hands on the edge of the Ice he escaped; he returned very safe and sound to Clarevallis, and for a full accomplishment of joy and contentment, had the wished favour to see his most dear and desired Master again, to whom he showed himself very grateful and obsequious, not only as long as he lived, but even also after the death of S. Bernard in frequenting his sepulchre, and there most devoutly making his prayers.  
Surely a large matter of discourse for him that would compare this with other such like marvels. But let us, leaving this artificiousnes to Orators, content ourselves with the naked & simple truth. Besides what hath been said, it is also reported for a thing most certain, that the vigilant Prelate in the government of his order through diverse Monasteryes very far asunder and remote from him, gave many commissions and precepts of things, which through human means he could no ways come to understand, in so much as though absent in person, notwithstanding (as it is read likewise of S. Benet, and other servants of God) with the spirit he seemed to be present at the actions and proceedings of his Monks. The which revelations albeit Divines ascribe to the gift of Prophecy; yet we restraining the sense of this word, and applying it only unto presage and prediction of future things, shall demonstrate, that to S. Bernard also (among other titles) this same so precious a gift was not wanting.   

Some examples of the admirable gift of Prophecy, and discretion of spirit in S. Bernard. Chap. 25.  
THat troop of choice young men, which, as at the beginning we mentioned, S. Bernard in the city of Chalon purchased to our Lord, were almost all of them in worldly wisdom the disciples of one Stephen of Vitreo, a person very famous in those days and Country thereabouts. Now being come to Clarevallis, while they were yet kept by the man of God in an Inn, as it were in their first probation, and instructed by little and little in the rules of the divine service, comes in Stephen of Vitreo, beyond all expectation, and demands to be likewise received into monastical discipline. It is the manner of those who have newly left and forsaken the secular hopes and affairs, to feel incredible iubiley of hart, when they behold some others to do the like; whether it be, through that new zeal which the beginning of spirit subministred to them; or else for that they take delight to have their election approved by the judgement and example of many: so as at the unlooked for appearing of no ordinary subject, but even of their own so famous a Master, it cannot be told what great contentment those good Brothers took, and what joy they made both private and public. But the mind and judgement of the wise Abbot in this point was so far otherwise. Who by divine advice knowing suddenly the quality of his vocation, first sighing held his peace, then in the presence of all, he said: This man is sent hither by the evil spirit, he comes without a companion, and without a companion he shall go his ways again. At this speech of his, they were astonished and amazed, who even now could not contain themselves for joy: nevertheless not to scandalise those tender plants S. Bernard was content to admit Stephen upon trial, especially making large promises to observe very punctually the rule, and to execute with all promptness whatsoever should be ordained him. But it was not long ere being overcome with the tediousness of silence and of solitude, being affrighted with the rigour of the observance, & weary of the exercises, and mental labours, he was seen to be drawn forth of the Oratory by a vile Black-more, as heretofore was that Monk of Cassin. From hence after some six months were passed, repenting himself of the good begun, he endeavours to attempt, and to stir up others, according to the manner of Religious men ill grounded & mutable, who being resolved to leave the banners of Christ, and to return to the leeks of Egypt, think to cover their shame with the multitude of companions, and to diminish the infamy by communicating the fault: but neither he, nor he that set him a work could effect the same. Because all those souls, through the preservative infused into them by the faithful & prudent Steward, still remained where they were, firm and immoveable, and according to the protestation of the holy Pastor, that unhappy Stephen de Vitreo did but travail in vain. He entered alone, and alone went forth again. Nor was the prophecy which follows much unlike.  
Three young men having taken the habit together in Clarevallis one of them through instigation of the devil, within a little while after returned to his vomit again. Whereupon the Father's being so much more anxious for the health of the other two, in their presence treated of this matter with the holy Abbot. Then he looking in the face of both those Novices, answered plainly: This man shall never have temptations of moment. That other shall have many, but shall finally prevail. The one then with a prosperous gale went always forward in religion. The other being encompassed with tribulations, and assailed with perilous assaults, after he had wavered more than once, and turned his back as it were, yet being sustained by divine grace, and through the memory of the Saints promises, victorious at last was crowned with perseverance. Of these kind of Oracles this same that follows was so much more famous, as it was published upon a greater occasion, and in a place more notable, and with persons more illustrious.  
Lewes the old King France, being greivously offended with some Bishops of that kingdom, suffered himself to be led so far into p●…sion, as to expel them by force from their Churches and Cities. Whereupon S. Bernard, wrote many letters to him to appease him, whose copies are yet kept to this day. It chanced the while, the servant of Christ being present, that many of those Bishops, to mollify the King's mind prostrate with all humility on the ground, and embracing his feet, were not all able to move him to pity. The man of God touched with this spectacle, and full of a holy zeal stuck not the day following to give a free and stout reprehension to the King himself, for having in that manner despised the submission, and prayers of the Priests of Christ, and clearly made protestation of that which was revealed to him, that night. This thy obstinacy shall cost thee the death of Philip thy eldest son, and sworn Prince. I have seen thee, in company of thy younger son fall prostrate at the feet of those Bishops, whom but yesterday thou madest so small account of: Collecting thence, that soon thou shalt lose Philip, and for substitution of this other, thou shalt sue to the Prelates, whom now thou usest so hardly, Which was not long ere it came to pass. Philip died, and the Father being humbled, wrought by all means with the Ecclesiastical state, that Lewes the second borne might be accepted for Successor, and be anointed with accustomed ceremonies. And so much may suffice of matters said or done by this admirable man above all force or term of nature: of which subject notwithstanding, though perhaps by us too sparingly and scantly handled, yet it is much harder for us to find an end, then how to begin.   

The great Humility of S. Bernard in avoiding worldly praises and hhnours, and the pious shift he used to acquit himself thereof. Chap. 26.  
OF all that which we have hitherto written, or left untouched, two things do most astonish me. The one how S. Bernard amidst so great variety of universal businesses maintained himself always as Lord and Master of himself, without neglecting ever the custody of his hart, and continual examine of his actions; and always walking therein so vigilant and provident, as if even then from the shade of the Noviciate he had passed forth into the dust, & sun of Christian warfarre. The other wonder is, how among so many favours from heaven, and applauses of men, he never abandoned the confines and centre of holy Humility; and this seems to me to be the principal cause why continually from the divine hand were showered upon him so excellent gifts, and so rare and incomparable graces: because that even as there is nothing which of its part, more dries up the fountains of the divine benignity, than Pride and Arrogancy, in whose company Ingratitude goes hand in hand: so is there not a nearer and more apt disposition, to become capable of that soweraigne liberality, than Modesty, and to think humbly of ones self. With which as we see also in human things, a devout will, and a solicitous care of thanksgiving go commonly united. The great servant of God would discourse highly, as well of this as of other heroical virtues, and among other celestial sentences he was wont to utter, he would say: The true humble man desires not to be held for humble, but vile and abject, and that surely with reason, since to the magnanimity of the Gentiles corresponds, though in a more eminent degree, the humility of Christians, whose property is to hide and conceal their own praises as much as may be: though humility outwardly be obscure and neglected, yet inwardly being acquaint and well decked, it shines so after, as all, either first or last, in fixing their eyes thereon, do admire it without end. But how S. Bernard despised from the hart to be prized & reverenced of the world, may be manifestly known by that which I shall tell.  
Perceaving before hand, how they went about to make him a Bishop, he very dexterously procured that the other Abbo●… of his Order, unto whom (as hath been said above) he had made profession to owe obedience, should obtain an Apostolical Bre●…e, wherein it should be commanded them, that if it happened, the Man of God were requested of their Congregation for any Prelacy forth thereof, they might deny it by all means, and not seem at the petition of others to despoil themselves of such a guide, and so great a Pastor. And this preserua●…iue of his, was very efficacious, because that S. Bernard indeed with full confent of all the Citize●… & Clergy was first chosen Bishop of Langres, then of Chalo●…, anon of Rheims, and of most noble Cities in France & Flanders. Moreover also in Italy he was required for Archbishop of Milan, and of 〈◊〉: and from all these Communityes and Republics had come Ambassadors for the same effect. With whom to diminish the opinion of sanctity, which is wont to grow of such refusals; the servant of Christ would answer no more, but that he was not of his own power, but subject wholly to the Cistercian Abbots; they might go unto them, and he would do what they should determine. So as remitting all to those Fathers, they without respect through common accord gave always a precise and peremptory repulse.   

The great Honours afforded S. Bernard by all sorts of people: with the 〈◊〉 blessed end he made. Chap. 27.  
THus had S. Bernard fully his intent to put off the marks and Ensigns of Honours, but yet could not with this so escape and free himself from the glory of them, which like the shadow (according to the ancient Proverb) follows men flying, & men following it, flies. Because notwithstanding all the repugnance he could make, and felt therein, he was always in such credit and reputation, as it may securely be affirmed, that the majesty of one poor and simple Abbot seemed to parallel with the crest and altitude of any degree, title, and dignity whatsoever. And peradventure when the ancient and modern histories be all turned over, there shall not be found any, who yet living in mortal flesh was so much reverenced in presence, and renowned so in absence: forasmuch as not only private persons, or some Communityes, but even Kings. Princes, and Popes also would recurre to him in their greatest difficultyes, to him put their strifes and controversyes of most importance to compromise: and finally from him expected nothing, but succour, justice, and truth. Not only from neighbour Provinces, but even from the furthest parts of Europe, as from the utmost confines of Spain, Ireland, Denmark, Sueveland received he Letters full of reverence, and loving presents also, in sign of memory and devotion.  
Wheresoever he went, he was reverenced of all, as sent from Paradise, and with great faith the infirm, and afflicted with any calamity soever, were presented to him for succour. Bread & water by him blessed, were kept as certain Antidotes against all evils, and with great industry were sought for from the furthest parts. The shreds of his garments, or whatsoever he had worn, were held for wholesome, and venerable Relics. It cannot be expressed what concourse and multitudes of people there were, wheresoever he was, or went any way. He could not appear in Rome, but the people and Court would be about him. In Milan and in other places of Lombardy, he was constrained for the great press to shut up himself in his Inn, and to be seen by the people at grates and windows to give them his benediction. In passing over the Alps, when he went, or returned from Rome, whole troops and families of shepherds and swains, would descend from those rocks and ●…ops of mountains to meet him, crying out aloud a far off, and ●…imbing up the cliffs, & showing themselves on the highest places ●…here to have his benediction, and from thence retire them again unto their Cottages, making great joy and vaunts for being worthy ●…o behold that angelical face, and for their good to have the Saints ●…ight hand extended so upon them.  
In the City of Spire, the Man of God having wrought some ●…otable wonders, there came so great a multitude of people about him, as Conrade himself King of the Romans, was forced to lay off ●…is robe, to carry him with his own arms out of the Church for ●…eare he might be oppressed and smothered in the crowd. And when he passed into Mets for the pacification we mentioned above, he was one day among others environed by such number of people, as it was needful for his followers to embark him with great dexterity in the river of Mosella, and there in resemblance of the Saviour of the world, he ceased not to exhort and assist the people. And this was the last of the public actions of S. Bernard.  
For that peace, being made in that Province, and the minds of men reconciled among themselves, returning to Clarevallis he felt himself to grow sick of a mortal infirmity, wherein yet every day he approached to the end of this life, with so much sweetness of spirit, as if now already sailing in the port, by little & little, he were taking down the tackle, and striking sail. And because the Monks with tears and prayers besought the divine Majesty, not to take away their loving Master from them he tenderly complained with them, for prolonging by that means his exile, and depriving him of the desired sight of his Redeemer and Lord: finally he became so feeble of his stomach, through failing of the natural heat, as that blessed soul being not able longer to uphold and govern the worn and decayed members, flew directly to tho●… mansions of heaven, whereon he had ever his eye fixed, on the 20. day of August, in the year of our Lord 1153. leaving by his means founded more than 160. Monasteryes of the family of Cisterce, among which, in the Convent only of Clarevallis lived 770. servants Christ. He was deposed some two days after his departure, with a little case on his breast, wherein the Relics of S. Thadeus the Apostle were contained, being sent him that very year from ●…rusalem, the man of God so ordaining it, with hope and intention to be united with the Apostle in the day of the Resurrection.  
The mourning and concourse of people at so dolorous a new●… the preparation of the Exequys which followed; the intercessios made at his shrine, were a matter more easy for the pious and p●…dent Reader to imagine, then for us to describe. The holy Father (as his most sweet writings demonstrate) had a perpetual and most singular devotion towards the most blessed Virgin, the Mother of God. In so much, as with reason it is believed, how from that inexhaustible treasure of celestial riches, he drew the talents and graces, which made him so grave and composed in his person▪ so acceptable to the divine Majesty, so helpful, so wise, and admirable to the world.   
FINIS.   

S. HUGH.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

Physicians say, Diseases faster grow  
Whose moving causes our complexions feed:  
Whom most we trust, most dangerous is the Foe,  
Spite is more fell, atty●…d in freindships' weed;  
And sooner it procures our overthrow,  
Then that which doth from open foes proceed.  
For arms, or laws, or friends prevent the one,  
The other God himself must shield, or none.   

More dangerous are allurements which we love,  
And with our perils do like serpents warm:  
Worldly delights, neglecting those above,  
Because most present, most our souls do harm.  
This I discovering plainly, ever strove  
To free myself, and others from the charm  
Of that Enchantress, whose endearments bring  
Eternal grief, pains ever torturing.    

THE LIFE OF S. HUGH BISHOP OF LINCOLN.  

The Parentage and Minority of S. Hugh: with his Vocation, & entrance into the Charter-house at Grenoble. Chap. I.  
THe blessed Hugh, whose life and manners we take in hand, was nobly borne in the parts of Burgundy. His Father was a valiant Captain, fearing God, and living well contented with his Pay. There was not far off from a Castle of his, a Monastery of Canon-Regulars, to whom he was much devoted. here as soon as he was deprived of his Wife, he placed his son, who was about some eight years old, that from his tender years, under spiritual standarts, he might accustom himself unto Christian warfarre. S. Hugh was very willingly received by those good Fathers, and put over to a venerable old man, who was to instruct him in learning, and religious discipline. This man with a reverend gravity, first premonished him to beware of licentious & light sports, and to endeavour to anticipate the benefit of time, with maturity of manners, and sometimes would say unto him: Hugh, I train thee up for Christ, these sports become thee not. And his admonitions were not in vain: the holy Ghost found such disposition in him of wit and purity, as he was soon replenished with wisdom, and understanding, whence in short time, he came to be very grateful to God, and most dear to men. In the mean while, the Knight his Father touched with heavenly inspiration, leaving the world, retired himself into the same Monastery, and there attended to the service of God unto his life's end.  
But S. Hugh, as soon as he arrived to the nineteenth year of his age, at the instance of the whole Convent, having taken all the holy Orders, except Priesthood, was applied by Superiors to the help of a certain Parish, in which office he bore himself in such sort, as every one framed a high conceit of his sanctity & prudence: but our Lord willing to lead him to a life of stricter observance, & of greater merit, disposed that his Prior, going for devotion as he was wont, to visit the Charter-house of Grenoble, took S. Hugh in his company, who making his prayer, and now entered in the Cloister, in beholding partly the solitude and silence, partly also the semblance and manners of the Monks, felt immediately such an ardent desire of passing unto the same Rule to enkingle in his breast, as not being able by any means to conceal, or endure the flame, he began presently to make secret practices, and to entreat the Father's one by one to vouchsafe to admit him into their Institute.  
His Prior was aware hereof, and calling him aside with dolorous sighs and tears in his eyes: O my beloved Son (said he) I see well now, and perceive too well, I have brought thee hither to my great mishap, and the irreparable loss of my whole flock. And as soon as they returned home again, he discovered all to the Canons, and especially to the Father of S. Hugh, entreating him with great feeling, to put some remedy to so great a cross. This being once understood, they run presently to the young man, and more fully informed themselves of the novelty from his own mouth, and finally pressed him so hard, as they made him to promise with an Oath, that he would not forsake them. To which purpose, by how much S. Hugh condescended against his will, so much more troublesome and sharp pricks of conscience, and scuples felt he in himself: on the one side, the touches of a more high vocation ceased not to molest him, and with reason feared he to constrist are the holy Ghost, in resisting so: on the other, he was opposed against by fraternal charity, and the promise he had made with an oath. S. Hugh being assaulted a good while with this contrariety of spirits, after many prayers and considerations, was satisfied at last, that he was not tied to the observance of his word and promise, which hindered him from the greater service of God, and his own perfection. With this resolution being now returned very quiet again to the Charter-house, he did so efficaciously a new express his desires, as those Religious men admiring so constant a teruour of his, without more delay admitted him.   

S. Hugh is made Priest; then procurator of the house of Grenoble; and lastly sent for into England by the King there. Chap. 2.  
THe soldier of Christ, being now entered into a new war, begins to feel new battles, all which notwithstanding through divine succour to him, were a subject to him of glorious triumphs. Especially he was molested day and night by the concupiscible part, nevertheless to conserve his Virginity, he ceased not to macerate his flesh with abstinences, vigils, scourges, & other mortifications; yet sometimes refreshed with consolations again, and with heavenly sweetness, with which means, and with humble and continual prayer, at last the fiery shafts of the enemy were quite extinguished. A midst these labours, the time of Priesthood approaching, a venerable, old man (whom S. Hugh according to the custom of the Order, through charity & submission devoutly served) demanded of him, if he were willing to be a Priest or no! Whereunto he having sincerely answered, that for his part there was nothing in the world he desired more; to whom the old man replying with a severe countenance. And how darest thou aspire to a degree whereto none, how holy soever, but through constrain is worthily advanced? At this reprehension S. Hugh being terrified falling flat on the ground, with tears in his eyes, suddenly craved pardon; at which humility of his, the Master being tender, and touched with the spirit of prophecy said: Rise up my son, rise up, do not trouble thyself, I know very well with what effect, and with what intention thou utteredst such words: and I tell thee moreover, and affirm it to thee without all doubt, that ere long, thou shalt be a Priest, and within a certain time after shalt thou be a Bishop also. At which presage of his, the good disciple full of blushing, and confusion held his peace, and a little after being promoted to the dignity of the Altar, prepared himself with most exact diligence to the sacrifice, and with the same continuing to celebrate, not only slackened not, but augmented his spiritual exercises, and his accustomed mortifications, whence he took such a weakness of stomach, as ever after afflicted him sorely; for the obligation of the rule, and the public assemblies of the Choir, the Chapter, and the like, was he ever the first, endeavouring in all things, yea even in the least, to edify as many, as conversed with him.  
In this manner, having passed in his private Cell, and priestly ministry about ten years, the principal Procuratourship of the house, being a charge amongst those Religious of no light importance, was by Superiors imposed upon him, and which to S. Hugh laid open a new field to exercise his excellent Virtues in. Because he understanding very well, how from his care and vigilancy, depended the Religious quiet, and contemplative life of the others, abandoning quite for the love of Christ his own consolations, attended with extraordinary care, unto all the parts of Oeconomy, and of a perfect Steward, making provisions in good times, preventing the necessities of every one, and especially of the sick; surveying, and reviewing the accounts of the officials and Factours, improving continually the possessions, defending and conserving the rights and rents, and all in such manner, and with that maturity, as well gave the world to understand, how far he was from all particular interest.  
For these so rare qualities, in short time his fame was spread even to the remotest Countries,; and Henry the second King of England, who in those days, was upon founding a Monastery of Carthusians at Whitam, & through the ill condition of that neighbourhood, could not bring the matter to any good pass: after he had with small fruit applied two Priours of the Order upon the enterprise; being finally moved with the constant relation of the worth, and sanctity of S. Hugh, not failed to send in post, to that end, very honourable personages to the aforesaid Charterhouse of Grenoble (and among them Reginald Bishop of Bath) to require him for this office. To which purpose, those Father's being assembled together, there followed an earnest dispute among them, while to some it seemed not just or reasonable, for any ones sake whosoever to deprive their own house of so firm a prop, & others judging on the contrary, & with lively reasons demonstrating, how it became not Christian charity, and the evangelical profession, to have the eye fixed upon the commodities only of one family, and to keep that virtue enclosed in so little a space, which might be extended for the benefit and salvation of foreign nations, with the great augmentation of the divine glory.  
Among such contentions had for a while, to and fro, of no light moment, that Part prevailed at last which would the public and universal, should be preferred before the private; and that they ought not, with so harsh a repulse provoke the displeasure of so great a King. In this manner S. Hugh, being otherwise an enemy to Prelacy, and who protested himself to be wholly insufficient for such a charge, was by Superiors constrained to take it upon him: and not without much tears, departing from his dear Cloister in company of the said Ambassadors, he arrived sale & sound at the coasts of England. From thence without going to the Court, travailing by the nearest way to Whittam, the first thing he endeavoured to do, was with a cheerful countenance, and with fit exhortations to comfort those few afflicted Monks whom he found there: and being afterwards sent for by letters unto the King's presence, through divine favour he had such grace in the eyes of that Majesty, as that after diverse discourses thereof, he brought away both for the present and future necessities, a very large provision of all things; and beside could tell how to use such dexterity with that people, and so to purchase their love and good opinion, as that from harsh, contumacious, and froward, in short time they became very gentle, obedient and tractable: whereby very easily both the Church became more enriched through divine offices, & the house to be the better accommodated for the sustentation of the Monks, and for the splendour and ornament of the place the fabric to be finished; while S. Hugh laboured thereat with his own hands, and carrying, for example and public edification, stones & mortar on his shoulders: in so much, as many seculars being invited, partly by his sweet and sanctified manners, & partly also through a gust of a retired life, and of the commodity of the buildings there, abandoning the cares of the world, and renouncing the proper liberty, came thither to consecrate themselves unto God, & by vow to oblige themselves unto monastical discipline.   

The King with his whole army at Sea, is delivered, by commending himself to the prayers of S. Hugh. Chap. 3.  
THe king of England, took no small comfort at these proceedings, he rejoiced much, in that he was not deceived awhit in his judgement in the election of such a one. And (as he was a wise and prudent King) having very often familiar and long discourses with the Prior, the more he dived into him, the greater esteem made he, not only of his prudence, but of his piety and perfection also, holding it a great happiness, to have such a man in his Kingdom, and placing a good part of his hopes in his devout intercessions & suffrages: as among other times, he clearly showed, when as returning with a great Army, from the enterprise of France, he was suddenly assailed with so cruel a tempest, as the fury of the winds illuding all the art of the Mariners; they all betook themselves, as many as were with him, according to custom, to vows and prayers; and the King notwithstanding perceaving the waves to grow more rough, broke forth at last into these words: O if my good Hugh of the Charterhowse, were now aware of this, & would make fervent prayer for us, as he was wont, the divine mercy would not be so slow to our succour. And a little after, with other sighs he gave not over, but added: O blessed God, whom the Prior of Whittam truly serves, vouchsafe through the merits and intercession of thy faithful servant, with the eye of pity, to regard our distress, and afflictions. And behold the invocation was scarcely finished, but a calm began, in such sort, as the whole company, with as many as sailed with them, yielding thanks without end to the divine Clemency, very happily arrived at the wished port.  
The news whereof on a sudden flew into all parts, and the name of S. Hugh, grew to be in so great veneration, as Henry had not in his whole kingdom beside, a man he esteemed more, nor in whom he reposed more confidence: and the number of those Religious went multiplying every day more & more; in the manage & instruction of whom, S. Hugh showed very well, how excellent a gift he had in government. Because, that pursuing his ancient thoughts, the first thing he endeavoured effectually, was that men might know clearly, that nothing was more dear unto him, than the quiet and consolation of every one. To works (as need was) he adjoined words, and efficacious and discreet advices. But above all things he pressed them, through the example of his own manners; being so habituated in treating with God, as his familiars also in his sleep, should hear him unawares to pray, & say his Psalter. He was beside, as much as public occasions permitted him, much given to sacred reading, and was wont to say, how the divines Scriptures to all Religious, and especial to such as lead a more solitary life, are delights in peace, arms in war, food in time of famine, and a medicine in infirmity: so as, when according to the custom of the Order, he eat alone, he had always, on a little table, the scripture open before him, or some holy Doctor: though otherwise, he was so diligent in the custody of his senses, as when he happened on holy days to take his refection with the rest, he would never hold his eyes from the table cloth, his ears from the pulpit, and his mind from God. This holy man was exceeding careful, that, for his sake or any of his, no person should receive any agreivance and scandal.  
And to this purpose, we may not conceal, how the King having taken from a certain rich Monastery, and well furnished with books, the new and old Testament, written by those Regulars, with great labour and diligence, and bestowed it on the Fathers of Whittam, as yet not well provided of such necessaries: as soon as S. Hugh had knowledge thereof, from one of the aforesaid Monastery, he answered with a sad cheer: thus stands the matter then. The King would have deprived your Church of your labours and travails, so fruitful, to accommodate and enrich us by such means. We cry you mercy with all our hearts for the loss you have sustained for our sake, though in truth till now we were never made acquainted therewith. Take ye then the Book again, and if your Fathers will not receive it, I will without more ado; restore it myself, to the party that caused it to be brought hither. And further, if they be willing to accept the same, I will cause the matter to be kept secret by all means. This modesty of his pleased them exceedingly, and as they remained much edified thereat, so they came to contract a great friendship with the Family of Whittam.   

S. Hugh is made Bishop of Lincoln, and how stoutly he de●…eanes himself in his Pastor all charge. Chap. 4.  
NOw approached the time, destined by the divine providence, for the exaltation of his faithful and wise feruant. The Sea of the City of Lincoln had now been vacant for some eighteen years, and those of the Chapter being moved at the loss which the flock suffered so without a Pastor, laying finally aside the strifes and contentions risen amongst them, resolved with the approbation of the Metropolitan of Canterbury, to go a sufficient number of them to the Court of the King, under whose protection, and superintendency, the election being celebrated with wont ceremonies, they agreed upon the person of the Prior of Whittam: whereat Henry, being extraordinarily joyful, sent the news thereof presently to S. Hugh, as he thought most joyful tidings. There also arrived together, the letters and messages of the Archbishop himself, who congratulating with him for such a dignity, did lively exhort him not to resist so honourable a judgement of the Canons, and so manifest a sign of the divine will. His friends likewise generally encouraged him to it, with reasons and importunities.  
But S. Hugh, now experienced in the chaste government of souls, weighed all things with a more just balance, and who knew very well, how great temerity it was, in a stormy sea to take voluntarily in charge with so much hazard a bark replete with the blood of Christ, with might and main endeavoured to withdraw himself from the enterprise: alleging besides his own insufficiency, the election to be likewise invalid, as well for being prosecuted forth of the Diocese, and practised with the favour and authority of the King & Archbishop, as for that the voice of the Prior of the great Charterhouse was not concurring thereto, without whose approbation, he could by no means accept such a charge.  
These and many other things of like tenor, the man of God replied: hoping the Electours either moved through equity, or disdaining the repulse, would easily turn the designs to the other part. But through divine dispensation he remained much deceived of his conceit. Because the same humility wherewith he thought himself unworthy of such a manage, & the earnest instance which he made, that it might be transferred upon some other, inflamed the Canons to extol and advance so great submission, & so great virtue; so as to take away from S. Hugh all excuses and occasions, being a new assembled together in the same City & Cathedral Church of Lincoln, with like consent they ratifyed the decree as at first, and besides sending for that purpose unto the great Charter-house of persons of quality, they brought back in ample form, not leave only, but so express command, as for S. Hugh there was no evasion.  
With this dispatch went all the favourers of that creation very glad and triumphant to the Monastery, and taking the sad and sorrowful Prior from his Cell, they lead him with great joy to the Cathedral Church. In which act appeared very well how great a friend he was of poverty both of body and mind, because being not able to hinder so noble a concourse, which came to accompany him, retaining at least in himself, the desired lowliness, he would never permit some few commodities of his, for his own use, should be carried by any: but rather putting them behind him on the cropper of his horse would needs convey them himself publicly to the Bishop's lodgings, and by no means before consecration; he would admit either title of Prelacy, Pontifical robes, or attendance of servants.  
Finally being afterwards anointed, and placed with solemn rites, in the Pontifical Throne, he felt himself as a choice and disposed vessel, to be replemshed with so great a plenty of celestial gifts, and particularly of the spirit of fortitude, as from that time he made a purpose to spare no labours, to shun no perils, nor yield to entreaty or threats, where the divine glory, or good of the Church might take place: and for this very respect, he liked not those rich Presents, with the fresh gratulations sent unto him from the king; and so it was necessary for him to make such a resolution. Because there passed not many days, but that the King Raungers of the forest (so they call in those countries, the overseers of the forests and of the chases of the kings) relying on their favour in Court, and on the custom now usurped a good while, upon light occasion laid hands upon a Clerk, and condemned him in a good sum of money. Whereof S. Hugh being fully informed, with reason (said he) these people are called Foresters, as it were standing forth of the kingdom of God. Heerupon calling to a Consult, certain excellent Doctors, and such as feared God (whereof, from the time he was first assumpted to the Chair, he had made provision with good care) and by the common opinion of all, having given due premonishments already to the delinquents, he courageously proceeded to excommunicate the head of that company.  
K. Henry took this act of the Bishop very bitterly; but yet to satisfy himself better of his disposition, dissembling the matter for the present, he requested of him by messengers and letters in post, a Prebendary then vacant in the Diocese of Lincoln, in favour of a certain Courtier; while some friends of S. Hugh laboured it much, that he might take occasion thereby to mitigate the anger of the King, & to return into grace with him: but the soldier of Christ, having read the petition, said: These vacant places are not to be conferred upon Courtiers, but to Eccleisastics rather. The King's Majesty wants not means to reward his servants: nor is it just, to deprive such of their rents, who serve the king of heaven, to bestow them on those, who wait upon the Princes of the earth. With this answer he dispatched away the messengers of K. Henry, & being entreated at least graciously to absolve the Ranger, he could not be brought thereunto.  
Unto such, and so open contradictions of the Bishop, the King being accustomed to be obeyed as a beck, broke his patience at last, and sending for him, after the upbreading him with so many graces & favours done him, he complained bitterly for so hard a measure from him. And the venerable Bishop, being not troubled any thing thereat, with a grave and sweet countenance withal, demonstrated to him, how in the whole affair he had regard, next to the service of God, principally to his eternal salvation: which incurred manifest danger, when through his occasion, either the oppressors of the Church remained unpunished, or sacred benefices were rashly bestowed. And briefly S. Hugh could so wisely justify that fact, as the King being a man otherwise discreet, and a friend of justice, remained satisfied, and restored the blessed man into his ancient friendship again. After this the Ranger showing himself sorrowful and penitent for his ill deportments; S. Hugh gave him, not without the public chastisement of the verge appointed by the Canons, the desired absolution, and further assisted him in spirit: in so much as of a troublesome adversary, he had him ever after a friend much devoted to him, and in busynesses occurring a most faithful solicitor. With the same courage of mind S. Hugh endeavoured, to extirpate many inveterated abuses from that administration; among which was that very markable which we shall speak of in the next Chapter.   

S. Hugh reforms certain abuses: K. Henry dies the while, and K. Richard succeeds, which some passages beside. Chap. 5.  
THe Clergy was wont every year, to present the King with a precious Mantle, at the charge of the people; and the care of going here and there, to make the collection, the Clergy had taken upon them, retaining afterwards, and dividing among them as it were for their pains, those monies which amounted over and above: and that to the extreme disgrace of their Order, and most grievous scandal of the people. The new Pastor, could by no means endure this custom amongst them: and having efficaciously made the Priests, to acknowledge the shame, and impiety thereof, he likewise obtained from K. Henry authentic Patents, wherein he renounced such a gift, and each right, which upon any appearance he might pretend thereunto. The Magistrates & Ecclesiastical judges, in criminal causes touching that Court, were wont to condemn the delinquents for the most part, in money: whence it followed the rich not caring much for such penalties, persevered most impudently in their sins. S. Hugh therefore opposed himself mainly against this inconvenience, by changing the loss of money into corporal afflictions, or into public notes of infamy, or else when the case required it, also into excommunications; the which thunder as we shall presently see, came never from the hands of the Saint without admirable effects.  
K. Henry in the mean while, after divers travails of mind & body, departed this life, with much hope and many signs of predestination. There succeeded him Richard his son: who by how much he showed himself less propitious and friendly to S. Hugh, so much greater and more ample a field he gave him of exercise, & of glory. This King imitating his Ancestors, passed over to the war in France, and in process of time, as it happens, the Pay-maisters of the Camp being out of money, he resolved to send back the Archbishop of Canterbury whom he had then with him, into England; that by the favour and help of the Clergy, he might seek to get from his subjects the greatest quantity of money he could possibly procure. The Archbishop obeyed, and calling an assembly in a fit place, he found none that openly durst oppose, but the Bishop of Lincoln: who detesting the impious contentions between Christian Princes (especially at such times, when the wars of Egypt, and enterprise of the Holy-land, waxed hot) demonstrated with solidgrounds, how unlawful it was, without very just and urgent necessity, to squize the substance of the poor afflicted subjects.  
To this voice of his, consented, though but timerously, another Bishop only, whose name is not expressed. For all the rest, they strived to please the King. Who being certified by the Archbishop of what happened in the said Congregation, was so troubled thereat, and inflamed with rage, as that suddenly he gave order to a principal Officer, as he loved his life, with a sufficient preparation without delay, he should utterly ruin and destroy both those obstinate and rebellious Bishops. The Commissary was not slack in obeying. But the matter succeeded not so happily with one, as with the other. Because the timorous Bishop, at the first noise of the Court, abandoned his Church, and the sacred goods without resistance were all confiscated. But the blessed Bishop, upon the approach of that profane and ravenous troop, calling on the divine assistance, prepares for Excommunication, & caused all the Parishes to ring their bells, with such confidence, and with such a presence of undaunted courage, as the Courtiers who held him a Saint and favourer of God, being terrified and confounded, returned back without doing any thing. And some few days after being passed over, the other Pastor at the intercession of his friends, was recalled from banishment, and the King by this time being returned from France, he went very suppliantly to meet with him, and with tears to ask him pardon, and with humble promises not to contradict any more. But the disposition of S. Hugh was quite otherwise, as shall appear in the next Chapter.   

How S. Hugh admonished King Richard of his abuses: and what effect the admonishment took. Chap. 6.  
S. Hugh putting his confidence in justice & reason, remained still immoveable in his residence, the Court being especially at that time far off: but afterwards bethinking himself of the precipitous nature of the Prince, and the ill offices he had done already, and which a new were like to be done by him, and how at last, the fury would come to fall upon his poor people; laying aside all fear, and all respect of death or affronts, he determined to go in person to the King's presence, and to pacify him by those means which were convenient to the divine glory, and quality of the times. With the aid of prayer then, putting himself on the way, he was no sooner come to his journey's end, but some of his principal friends, and zealous of the honour of God, came to meet him, entreating him most earnestly, and conjuring him withal, that by no means he would appear before the King, nor give him occasion to renew in him, the slaughters, and cruelties heretofore happening, with so much infamy of the Kingdom in the person of the glorious Martyr S. Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury.  
These and other things to this purpose, with much affect represented those virtuous men, wherewith while S. Hugh was nothing moved, one that loved him more tenderly than the rest, never left entreating him, he would be pleased at least, to stay until such time, as he might preoccupy the mind of K. Richard, with fit offices, and so dispose him with prayers & reasons, as he might not look awry upon him. To such an offer, the Bishop answered, full of undaunted courage and fraternal charity: Would you then, to save myself, I put thee and all thy family in hazard? And what greater gust could my enemies have, then to take occasion to calumniate thee as partial to me, and enemy of the Crown? That said, without more ado, he passed into the King's lodgings, and finding him by chance hearing of Mass, in his Chapel, he approached to him with a cheerful countenance, and demanded of him (according to the use of that Country) the holy kiss of union and love. And the King disdainfully answering: No, thou deservest it not; yea but I do, answered S. Hugh, and that especially after so long a journey: and withal taking him pleasantly by the Robe, endeavours to hang on him with so great ingenuity, as K. Richard changing his bitterness to a sweet countenance, was won at last, and kissed him.  
At such a sight, the Prelates and Barons standing by, remained astonished. And so the Mass went on: and in the mean time the servant of Christ, without putting himself into the company, or taking up a fear among the Bishops, most humbly betook himself to a meaner place. The King noted the act, and arguing from thence, how S. Hugh was as little in his own eyes, as magnanimous and great in common causes, began to hold him in so great veneration, as that even at that time, the Deacon coming according to custom, to present him the Pax, he commanded in sign of reverence, it should be given first to the Lord of Lincoln.  
The Mass being ended, S. Hugh resolving to give K. Richard a fraternal admonishment, for the more decency, and liberty, he sweetly took him behind the Altar, and there being both set down together, with a grateful aspect began to examine him, saying: how is it with your conscience? Now you are of our parish, and we are to render a straight account of you before the dreadful judge. My conscience (answered the King) reprehends me of nothing, save only, that I cannot bear any good will to such as stand but ill affected to my Kingdom. Then S. Hugh with a great vehemency said: what is this thou sayst? And is it not true, that thou goest every day without fear imposing new greivances upon thy people, oppressing the poor, afflicting the innocent? And moreover the public fame runs, that thou keepest no faith, nor the Sacrtment of Matrimony. And thinkest thou these to be matters of no moment? At this voice of the Bishop, or rather of the Holy Ghost which spoke in him, the King being terrified, was fain to hold his peace. Whereupon with like fortitude, S. Hugh reproved him of diverse faults, which the King endeavoured partly with excuses to purge himself, and partly craved pardon, with purpose of amending his life.  
S. Hugh having given this ●…dmonition in secret, gave after account in pub●… 〈◊〉 rust motives that moved him to take, in matter of new tributes, the protection of the multitude committed to him, and spoke in such manner, as not only the rest of the auditory, but even Richard himself remained satisfied, holding it for a great happiness, that the tax went no further. S. Hugh taking afterwards, a courteous leave, returned back undaunted to his flock: and Richard turning himself to his followers, said, that if all the Bishops were like to this man, no power could prevail any ways upon them: to which opinion they all agreed with one consent, because S. Hugh through his frequent victories so got, was by a surname called, The mallet of the King. And if for the service of God, he showed himself so courageous and bold, it may easily be gathered, how immoveable he remained in like encounters with other persons of meaner rank, and with the ordinary sort, as appears in the next Chapter.   

How stoutly S. Hugh carried himself to all sorts, to the greater honour of God. Chap. 7.  
IT chanced to S. Hugh more than once, in sundry places, to be barehead, among spears and naked swords, reprehending the armed themselves, like a Lion, of their impious and wicked endeavours, they remaining amazed and astonished the while at so great a freedom. Upon a time he met on the way with a company of Sergeants & catchpoles leading a malefactor to death: & being moved with the prayers of the unhappy wretch, who in that necessity most earnestly recommended himself unto him, he gave order presently to the Ministers to unloose him, alleging that where the Bishop was present with the faithful people, there was the Church, & that the living stones deserved no less privilege and exemption than the dead. The enterprise was not in vain, though otherwise perhaps more worthy of applause, than imitation and practice. The officers being moved at the majesty of the Prelate, making some protestations only for fear of the King, left the guilty wholly free, and infinitely obliged to him, who beyond all hope had given him his life.  
Of this so great a hart, and courageous constancy of S. Hugh, if one seek into the causes, besides the unction of the holy Ghost, there may many be brought. And among these the natural generosity of the man, inflamed also from time to time with the instigations of his old Father by us named above, and the two natural brothers of his, brave Soldiers, and valiant Champions of the Catholic Church. These men would come sometimes to visit him at Lincoln, and by letters as occasion served, would exhort him always to stand firm in his purpose, and not to yield awhit, either to the headlong multitude, or furious Tyrants. And gave him moreover to understand, they had rather see him dead, then for any terror to commit any thing unworthy the Episcopal degree, and honour of his family. Besides which, S. Hugh helped himself much, with his frequent reading the lives of the glorious Martyrs, and Confessors of Christ, especially of such as for defence of the divine worship, & of the sacred Constitutions, have promptly exposed themselves to all punishments. And then from his daily sacrifices the while what comfort he felt, is a thing not easily to told: in which mystery he was so diligent, as he preferred it before all other things whatsoever; and was so grounded in that verity, as it seemed in some manner he had some clear evidence thereof, as appeared in a case which follows, in a village of those parts.  
Where a certain Priest, of very dissolute manners, having no fear at all to celebrate that divine Sacrament, and to handle with his impure hands the dreadful King of Majesty, as he came to the breaking of the consecrated Host, saw manifestly the most holy blood to proceed, and fall from thence: at which sight being affrighted & contrite, he took dexterously the precious liquor in the Chalice, and changing his manners, gave himself to sharp penance in so much as every one was astonished. By this occasion the miracle came to be diwlged, & the Priest himself to give God the glory, gave public account thereof, in showing also the blood itself to every one that was desirous to be better satisfied in the matter. It happened, that the Bishop of Lincoln, for certain affairs of his, was to pass that way, and with that occasion it pleased him to understand and confer some spiritual things with the Priest, the fame of whose strange mutation and singular austerity of life, ran every where: falling then into diverse discourses with him, among the rest the good man gave account and information to the Bishop of the beginning of his conversion, entreating him withal he would be pleased to contemplate with his eyes that venerable relic itself; which S. Hugh not only refused to do, alleging the certainty thereof had need of no such probation, but even reprehended such of his family, accepting the invitation, of little faith, & too much curiosity. And it is a thing well known, that in recompense as it were of so great a steadfastness, the Saviour himself, in the sight of some Religious men appeared many times in the Host inform of a most beautiful child unto S. Hugh himself, while he celebrated the Mass.  
Besides this, the Blessed Man took great spiritual forces, from the lively and more than human conceits of the holy Psalter: wherein what gust he received, and how observant he was of the times and determinate hours of the divine Office, may in part be gathered at least, by that which we shall speak in the next Chapter.   

The good success S. Hugh had, through his devotion to the Canonical H●…res: and how dreadful his Ecclesiastical Censures were. Chap. 8.  
While S. Hugh, was travailing on the way, upon public affairs, with some Prelates and other Ecclesiastical persons; he chanced to arrive unlooked for, at a certain place much infested with men distracted of their wits. His companions being advertised of the danger, full of dread, consulted with themselves what to do, and resolved at last, to pass those ways by dark, & with all the secrecy that might be. With this resolution remaining in the june, about midnight they rise, and their horses being made ready in haste, they go to the Bishop of Lincoln's chamber, who was now even ready to say his Mattyns, and with much instance, they solicit him, to provide for his safety by the opportunity of the darkness. And he answered, What should I go hence without saying of my Matins? Then they replied, there would be time enough for that afterwards, since the present necessity afforded no delay, and they had need to go away suddenly, if they would not be taken by those Beadlams.  
Then S. Hugh with his Breviary in hand, Stay they that will stay, and fear that list to fear, said he, for my part I am determined not to go forth, till first I have paid this duty. And so performed it, saying his Office with ease and attention: And after that, with his family, getting commodiously on horseback, he met with no misadventure at all: whereas those wary and cautious people in taxing him for superstitious and improvident, so preferring human respects before the divine glory fell (as it often falls out) into the same net they so carefully shunned.  
To all these so efficacious and potent helps, he added another surely of an excellent virtue. He retired himself at lest once a year, to the Cloister of his beloved Whittam, & there under the common Rule, without any other difference, but only the sacred ring on his fingar, he attended all the vacant time he had, as from a high tower, to survey the vanities of human things, the shortness of life, and immense greatness of eternal Beatitude. And casting his eyes withal upon the infinite difficulties of spiritual government, and the horrible precipice whereon all Prelacyes stand; and as at the beginning he had avoided with all his power the Episcopal dignity, so many times afterwards he sent letters and agents to his Holiness, beseeching him with much importunity to be disburdened of the administration, and restored to his Order, from whence he was taken against his will.  
But since his supplications were not only not heard, but even the solicitors themselves came back sometimes very shrewdly checked from the Vicar of Christ, & rather other cares for the universal good imposed upon him; S. Hugh being enforced to obey, prepared himself for new labours, and new battles, nourishing still with the foresaid means in his breast, a burning desire of satisfying the highest in all things. Whereby in difficult erterprises, were equally matched in him a security of mind, and such a confidence, as that amidst the greatest difficultyes of all, yea even the dangers of death itself, neither lost he the peace of his soul, nor the convenient repose of his body. So as being one night for some graùe accidents transported in imagination, into divers thoughts, which tormented him without fruit, after he had thus roved with his fantasy a pretty while, at last was aware thereof, and smiting his breast with a deep sigh, be began to reprehend himself sharply, for not suddenly remitting all anxieties unto the divine Providence, but being troubled and grieved for things so happening, as if the direction of them had depended on his own knowledge and care: and scarcely was the day come, but calling for a Confessor, he declared that sin with much contrition, and surely not without reason, especially the hand of the Highest so concurring with him, by wonderful effects, as well in other actions as particularly in Censures: Whereof some events which happened in this matter, will purchase a firm belief. Certain rebellious and conturnacious fellows being by him given over unto the power of the Devil, vanished immediately, nor were ever seen more.  
A Soldier, who at the instigation of his wife, unjustly usurped the goods of another, and being often reprehended for it by the holy Bishop, with diverse pretexts and falsehoods still covered the same: this man being excommunicated by him one day, was on the next night following strangled by the infernal enemy: and yet for all that, another pursuing the same unjust suit, being gone to bed well fed & merry, continuing sleep with death, paid the fee of his iniquity.  
A Deacon for having calumniated others of high treason against his Majesty, being worthily condemned by the Bishop, by diverse colours and policies used, obtained the absolution thereof from the Metropolitan himself, which S. Hugh knowing to be vain, and surreptitious, stuck not to renew the Censure; and to the end it might appear which of the two, was the true sentence, it pleased God, that the Deacon within few days after, most miserably ended his days. A certain young woman, who in presence, & against the reprehension of the Bishop ceased not to spit in her husband's face, being stifled by a Devil, very suddenly expired.  
A virtuous Clerk, through the faction of the more potent, being quite deprived of his right which he had in a Church, after he had without any profit at all, gone to suit a good while both at home in his Country, and at Rome abroad, and consumed his substance therein, took finally resolution to recurre to the Bishop of Lincoln: who being well informed of the cause, and moved to pity upon the travails of the suppliant, resolved through divine instinct, no doubt, to thunder against all those wicked & sacrilegious men, although they were not of his own jurisdiction. An admirable thing. The bolt was no sooner shot, but some of the impious company, having lost their senses became furious; others ended their life unprovided; others lost their eyes with excessive torments, and finally, the Heavenly vengeance ceased not, until such time as the Client of S. Hugh, was restored to his Benefice again. This also, was of much consideration which I shall presently tell you.  
Seven of the King's Court, having by stealth taken out a thief from the holy Churchyard whither for fear of justice he had fled to save himself, without the Bishop's consent, hung him up. The servant of God resented the matter as was fit, and with his wont arms chastised them strait. And they from others example likewise fearing the worst, very sorrowful and compunct, cast themselves at his feet all craving pardon of him, one excepted; and having obtained the same, upon condition, that among other satisfactions, being half naked (it being then winter) they should carry on th●… shoulders the man that was hanged for a good distance unto the said Churchyard, whence so temerariously they had taken him forth, and there bury him with their own hands. So did the six penitent, not without public scorn and a great deal of trouble the while, and had no other hurt, that ensued thereon. When lo, the seaventh proud and pertinacious wretch, after seven years, came also 〈◊〉 last, to prostrate himself in the sight of the Bishop, declaring to him a strange story of the hurts and damages befallen him in this while, as well in his honour, as in his goods and person beside, and heartily craved absolution at his hands, for mitigation at least, if not an end of so great miseries. The conversion & supplication was not in vain. when S. Hugh not to add affliction to affliction, absolved him with a light penance, and restored him again to the Communion of the faithful.   

The sweet manner of behaviour which S. Hugh carried towards all: With his Charity, and Prudence in the manage of things. Chap. 9  
IN these and such like affairs touching the honour of God, and Ecclesiastical immunityes, S. Hugh would show so much rigour and severity, as may seem perhaps to be attributed, to a certain asperity or harshness of mind, and rusticity of manners, if otherwise he had not always used much humanity, & still retained the wont bowels of Mercy. At Table, and Feasts, he showed himself very soberly pleasant and merry, & would exhort his friends to the same cheerfulness, with giving thanks to the giver of all good. As for ●…nquets, sports, and music, if he could not avoid them sometimes, he would make use of them, either to refresh himself, for new travails, or for a taste of celestial delights. Not only, in the public preaching of the Word, but even also in familiar conversation, would he lose no occasion, most sweetly to allure men unto solid virtues, and through their amendment, very manifestly appeared the profit thereof. His conceits were efficacious and lively, and fitly accommodated to each condition and quality of persons. Of which kind, may serve as a certain pattern, that with diverse demonstrations he would give Religious to understand the necessity they have, of fight continually with themselves, and ascending always to the top of perfection. Unto seculars, & especially to such as traffic, above all things would he inculcate faith and truth in all things, without which of necessity all human commerce must utterly perish. The women, he was wont to incite to divine Love, in putting them in mind particularly of the singular privilege, & the inestimable favour done to that sex, by the sovereign Majesty, in vouchsafing to take flesh and become the son of a woman: and whereas man had never the honour to be called the Father of God, a woman yet hath had the grace, & pre-eminence to be named the Mother of God.  
In this manner, he stirred up always mortals from sloth and tepidity, and was most vigilant in encountering with the first origines of discords, and maintaining peace, as well in private as in public; having among other gifts so great a judgement and light touching the point of equity, as that not only near at hand, but also from remote countries, and even from Rome itself (as we insinuated above) there came controversyes delegated to him, of no light importance. He was wonderfully beloved and reverenced by his Canons, though for their sakes he would not swerve from righteousness; and with his prudence, and sweetness he knew how to manage them so, as he never pretended any thing from the Chapter, which he obtained not at last; he had likewise very admirable success in the highest affairs of the Kingdom, and among other his actions, was remarkable that peace, which he concluded between King Philip of France, and john King of England, being the immediate successor of his brother Richard, who in punishment of the troubles brought unto Ecclesiastical persons, within a few years of his Crown, was miserably slain in battle.  
And to the purpose of this pacification of his, it seems not good to pass over in silence, how S. Hugh returning from Normandy, with the accord established, happened by the way to lodge in a Monastery of his Carthusians, called Arneria: and some of those Fathers familiarly craving he would make some particular relation of the said expedition, and quality of the articles; Saint Hugh mortifying such a will in them, said: These secular businesses may well be declared by Bishops indeed, but should not be curiously enquired into by Monks. So tenacious was he at all times of Monastical discipline & of cha●…t silence. This also was a matter of much edification, in this great Prelate that having lost (as we have said) through excessive abstinence all appetite, was vexed with most bitter gripes of the cholike, yet failed he not for all that, to employ himself when need was, with a most exact diligence, in consecrating, or rehallowing of Churches, and administering the Sacraments, especially of Confirmation & of Order, observing ever the Catholic rites in all things, & beginning sometimes before day, persevering therein some hours of the night following without any refection at all. He spared not to bestow a good part of his time, in informing himself of the behaviours of the people and Clergy, of the necessiryes of the poor to relieve them, in & visiting and lovingly comforting the sick.  
But though he showed himself most pitiful and beneficial to all, yet felt he a singular tenderness of affect towards the infected with leprosy: he would go into their Hospitals in person, and after that in common he had given benign consolations and fatherly advices to that wretched people, he would approach to each one in particular, and humbly inclining himself unto them, he abhorred not to kiss their loathsome ulcers, and lastly refreshed them with convenient alms. The Chancellor of Lincoln, called William one day was present at such a spectacle, who being first astonished at so great humility, and afterwards doubting some vain glory in the Bishop, began to tempt him, with saying: S. Martin with a kiss only cured the leprous, but you, me thinks, do not so. Towhich jest of his, S. Hugh made answer: S. Martin's kiss eured the leprous in flesh, but the kiss of the leprous even cures my soul. He was wont also, most ordinarily to wash secretly the feet of thirteen poor folks, and to serve them at table. And finally his works of piety were so notable and famous, as he was universally called the Father of Mercies; and even sucking Babes, as it were, through naurall instinct would stretch forth their little arms to call, and embrace him.   

How S. Hugh addicts himself to bury the dead: with a strange prognosticate of his own death. Chap. 10.  
What marvel is it, that S. Hugh should show such clemency and compassion to the living, who used such Charity and solicitude towards the dead, and that not only to their souls, but even likewise to their corpse; he no sooner understood that there lay here or there any body unburied, but setting, as a new Tobyas, all other businesses aside, he would go thither in haste, and with due exequyes, according to the condition of each one he would commit them to the earth. And he was so given to this holy occupation, as that being sometimes invited by the King himself unto dinner, he would let him expect some whole hours together, until his work were finished: and while the messengers came in one after another, to solicit him, with saying, the King yet differred his dinner for his sake, and remained still fasting, S. Hugh freely would answer: Why doth he expect me? For better it were an earthly King should eat without me, then for me to consent that the commandment of the King of Heaven should be contemned. My food is to fulfil the will of the eternal Father.  
It happened one day, that he buried a most stinking & corrupt corpse of a drunken and dissolute sinner, to which none durst approach without stopping the nose; and yet S. Hugh went about to handle him without any aversion at all, until he had laid him and covered him with earth: the standers by being amazed thereat demanded of him, whether he felt not any noisomeness or loathing from the corrupt corpse, and he answering, that he felt no offensivenes thereat, and how they were deceived with their own imagination; being full with new wonder, they ceased not to glotify the divine Goodness in his Servant.  
News being brought him one day, of the death of a bitter persecutor of his, he suddenly puts himself in order to go unto that house of mourning, and to be present at the hearse: and being told for certain, there were trains laid for him on the way, and therefore by no means he should go thither: I deserve well, indeed, answered he, to have fetters at my feet, and bolts on my legs, if I should once but neglect such a visit. And so causing the rest of his train, to stay behind, he went thither but with two only familiars of his, and there arrived without any stop or hindrance at all, and procuring a decent funeral for him that hated him so much, and placing the body in a vault, be returned home again replete with joy and merits.  
How acceptable these and the like exercises of S. Hugh, were in the sight of God, was even manifested also in this present life, with the precious gifts of healing infirmities, and expelling the wicked spirits, and quenching flames. In the mean while, from his indispositions, from his travails, and years, S. Hugh continually feeling himself to decay, attended with more fervour the●… ever, to prepare himself for that passage, whereto in this short & uncertain course of mortality, all the cares and studies of men, should be most intent and fixed. A notable presage of the end of this Saint approaching, were the actions of a certain Swan of an extraordinary greatness, which on the self same day whereon S. Hugh being created Bishop entered into Lincoln, was now likewise come from parts far remote unto a certain Castle, whither the Bishop afterwards resorted sometimes for honest recreation: and when he arrived at any time, that white bird would immediately fly to receive him: and where to others it showed itself very shy, and coy; to the Bishop only it would be most domestic, and give forth infinite shows of welcome; it would take meat from his hand; it would thrust, as in a pool, the head and neck, within those large and ample sleeves of his, and not contented therewith, leaving the fresh waters, and its accustomed haunts, would stand all night a watching, and keeping centinel at his chamber door. Moreover it had taken up a custom, as often as the Bishop was to retire thither, to be very jocund, to cry out, and flap with the wings, in so much as the keepers of the castle, as they had been advertized by some harbinger, would be accited thereby to prepare the chambers, and to put all things in order against his coming. Now the last time that S. Hugh came thither, the amorous Swan leaving its accustomed davances, would so hide itself, with the head drooping, and with other signs of sadness, and frowardly sequestering itself from his sight, which it was never to behold more; as the servants were fain to take it, and bring it in by force. And thus much of this new prognosticate.   

The death and funerals of the Venerable Bishop, not without some miracles accompanying the same. Chap. 11.  
IN those days was assembled at Lincoln, a most famous national Council: and S. Hugh being then in the City of London, upon urgent occasion, with purpose to hie himself as soon as possibly he could to the said Assembly, being there overtaken by a suden & vehement fever, was forced to keep his bed; and yet in despite of the disease, reenforcing his prayers unto God, and to the most blessed Virgin, and devout colloquyes with his Angel Guardian, and with the Citizens of Heaven; he ceased not withal to afford grateful audience, with wholesome admonitions to as many as came to visit him. Being admonished to make his will: It grieves me (said he) for this custom of making wills, introduced into the clergy. I never had, nor have at this present any thing, that is not wholly of my Church: and yet that the fiscal may not lay hand thereon, let all be distributed to the poor, as soon as may be, whatsoever may seem to others I possess. Hereupon the Feast of S. Matthew being come, wherein he remembered he was consecrated Bishop; he caused the celestial Viatique, and the Sacrament of Extreme unction also to be ministered to him, as thinking very probably, that immediately he was to depart: but it pleased our Lord to differre the same, until the 17. day of the next month, in which space he ceased not from devotious for himself, and exhortations for others; and moreover with the spirit of Prophecy, very clearly foretold, the great disasters, which soon after, were to happen to that Kingdom, and particularly to the Clergy.  
The foresaid term being afterwards arrived, the holy Bishop being interiorly certified of his departure, caused besides his Chaplyns some Monks and Priests to be called to assist him, and seeing them all to weep bitterly, he sought with interrupted speeches, but grave and affectuous withal to comfort them, and laying his right hand upon each one, he recommended them to the divine custody. And now his feeble voice began quite to fail, when he willed, that the flore being swept, a cross of hallowed ashes should be form thereon, and that a service should be said in manner of a Quire, whereat being present with great attention, as soon as he came to that verse of the 90. Psalm: Clamabit ad me & ego exaudivi cum, cum ipso sum in tribulatione, causing himself to be lifted from his bed, he stretehed his withered and frozen members (being mindful of the Passion of Christ) upon the said Cross, and presently beginning the Canticle of Simeon very happily expired, in the year of our Lord 1200. of his age 60. and of his Episcopal charge the 15.  
In this manner it pleased the Prince of Pastors, to put an end to the travails of his most faithful Coadiutour, of whose passage into heaven some persons worthy of credit have had undoubted revelation. The body being spiced with Balm and other odours, was in pontifical habit exposed in a Coffin ready to be carried, according to the order left by him, unto his Church: but through the infinite concourse of people, which pressed in, to touch or at least to behold more near that sacred Treasure; there succeeding by turns very Honourable personages to carry the corpse, the way became to be so taken up, and stopped the while, as it was there fain to stay for no less than six days. In approaching to Lincoln, the two Kings john of England, and William of Scotland, who then were present, came forth to meet them with a most noble train, and both being desirous to submit their shoulders to the venerable Beer, the Scottish King among others (who loved him dearly) poured forth a flood of tears. After that, in the Cathedral were the solemn exequys celebrated, with the pomp that became both the dignity of the deceased, & the quality of the standers by, among which two crowned heads, three Archbishops, fourteen Bishops, more than a hundred Abbots, very many Earls and Barons, drew the eyes of the people upon them; the divine Providence so disposing, that the promptness and perseverance of S. Hugh in taking so great care to bury the bodies of others, was thus recompensed with so magnificent and glorious a Sepulture. To this were added for greater splendour, new & famous miracles, which to recount throughout, were a thing too long: it may suffice for example only to add here also, that within few days at his monument, were cured six Palsy men, three blind received their sight, and two dumb men recovered their speech. Moreover the deposition, customs, and heroical prowess of the Saint, were afterwards not only celebrated with a lively voice, by that age, but by many Writers also registered with a faithful pen, to the glory of God, the memory of him, and the noble example, & incitement to posterity.   
FINIS.   

S. ANTONY OF PADVA.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

RIch LUSITANIA, yields thee vital air,  
And first of others shines with such a gem  
Thy countries' Father; thou dost her prepare,  
Thou dost dispose her unto Heavens diadem  
By doctrine and example; they declare  
How grateful was such charity to them.  
Thou Solon's doctrine well dost overthrow,  
Showing the Country to her brood may owe.   

Milan adopts thee hers, whose spacious Fanes  
Could not contain thy happy audience:  
The larger fields, and open spreading plains,  
Did seem prepared for such a confluence:  
Thy heavenly doctrine sweetly entertains  
The hearers, charmed with golden eloquence.  
A second Orpheus, whose commanding Lyre  
Even senseless things do follow, and admire.    

THE LIFE OF S. ANTONY OF PADVA. Taken forth of Laurence Surius.  

Of the family and youthful age of S. Antony: and how he became be of the family of the Chanons-Regular. Chap. 1.  
THE marvelous Mysteries of the divine providence, are discovered as it were, through the whole pilgrimage of S. Antony, commonly called of Milan; and so much more worthy to be renowned by the world, as through the solicitous cooperation of this most noble Confessor, they are seen to be accompanied with the clear examples of an Apostolical spirit. and of each Christian virtue. The blessed man was borne in the famous Metropolis of Portugal, which is called Lisbon, K. Alphonsus reigning in those parts the second of that name, in the year of our Lord 1195. His Father was called Martin Boglion, his Mother Mary Tavera, both of ancient and very honourable families, dwelling right over against the great Church dedicated to the Mother of God, wherein the Relics of the glorious Martyr S. Vincent are kept with much veneration. From so noble a couple, in the flower of their youth sprung forth this blessed Bud, and in Baptism was named Hernando.  
In the first rudiments of learning and Christian manners, he was with diligence instructed by the Priests of the said great Church; so as an exact education being added to an excellent inclination, under the protection of the most Blessed Virgin Mary, and that most invincible Martyr, he came very soon to bring forth most evident signs of his future greatness: because, as it is likewise reported of some others elected of God in their childish age, being far off from childish thoughts, he took pleasure in imitation of his Parents, to frequent holy places, and to distribute alms to the poor, as he was able, that saying of job well suiting with him: Ab infantia mea, crevit mecum miseratio. With these passages of his childish innocency, being come to the dangerous & ticklish point of youth in choice of an estate of life, he felt himself not a little to be alured by sensuality, with enticements of flatteryes: but preserved doubtless by the divine Mercy, very generously withdrew his foot, resolved to follow by the sharp way, the guide of reason, and splendour of honesty.  
And to secure himself the better, with perseverance, with a voluntary holocaust he dedicated himself to our Saviour jesus Christ, in the Monastery of S. Vincent of the Chanons-Regular: which Monastery howbeit situate forth of Lisbon, yet was it not so far, but many, as it happens some for love, some for curiosity, came to visit the new soldier of Christ: whence he perceaving himself to be disturbed in his devout exercises, obtained with much difficulty to be removed from thence, some three days journey, into the Monastery of the Holy Cross of Conimbria, where yet to this day that Order flourisheth, to the great benefit and ornament of that City. here the fervorous disciple of Christ, besides the learning and diligent observing the holy Ceremonies, so employed himself in the graver studies, as he always reserved the better part of his time and travail for spirit: nor suffered he (as often it falls out with they unadvised) the vehemency of speculation should come to oppress or diminish devotion, but with a sage temper, helping himself with the sacred Scriptures, partly for finding out of deep senses, partly to inflame himself with divine love, and making no less often acts of the Will, then of the Understanding, he arrived within a little while, to so high a degree of perfection, as he had no greater thirst, then to spend his blood for the Catholic faith. And in this so laudable a desire of his, he became much more confirmed, through the occasion we shall presently declare.   

The occasion that moved S. Antony to endeavour to change his Rule, and what it was. Chap. 2.  
THe venerable Family of Friars, which through Christian humility do call themselves Minours, was by the Eternal Pastor newly founded, to the help and reduction of wandering souls. The head of these was the most blessed Francis of Assisium, who with the approbation of the Sea Apostolic, and with the example and profit of his holy manners and speeches, travailing into diverse Countries, and especially into the utmost confines of Spain, had with admirable increase spread his name, and ministry, by the many residences of his children. And by this way had sought with all industry to provide for the extreme necessities of the afflicted Christianity. After this being not able to suffer the other so great a part of the world to be seduced by the fabulous lies of the Mahometan perfidiousness, he very freely determining to bring, to his power, some light and succour to those miserable nations; and when he should be able to profit no more, with a glorious end at least, to lay down his life, in confirmation of the Gospel.  
Into which enterprise having put himself more than once, but through diverse impediments, being not able ever to prosecute any thing; at last, assembling together, two squadrons of choice workmen, with one of Eleven, he himself passed from Ancona into Egypt, where under Damiata, the Christian army was encamped against the Saracens: the other of Six, he sent under Friar Vitalis an Italian, into the land of Granata, and of Andaluzia, being tiranically handled by Miramolinus King of Morocco, a great upholder of the name and sect of Mahomet. These two expeditions concerning the little fruit they wrought, with those blind and obstinate people, had in a manner the same success: but for the dealing with Apostolical persons they were far different. Because S. Francis passing boldly from the Christian tents, unto those of the Saracens, was by the Sultan (though for that time he resolved not to accept the Gospel) more than once, yet graciously heard, and with diverse courtesyes and favours much honoured and entertained, not without the infinite wonder of the standers by.  
But the troop, which under Vitalis went into the West, by his order continued their way, and with incredible fortitude preaching the truth of Christ, and accusing the vanity of the false Prophet, not only in Seville of Andaluzia, but even also in the City of Morocco itself, and in Africa, and confirming their doctrine with works above nature, they were first scorned, pelted, & overwhelmed by the people, with stones, cudgels, and prisons: and afterwards by Miramolinus himself (to revenge the injuries of his Mahomet with his own hands) very cruelly slain through the strokes of a Scimitar, in the presence of his people. Whose bones now renowned with new and evident miracles, being diligently gathered by the means of the Infant Don Pedro, the King of Portugal's Brother (who was very acceptable at that time in Morocco to Miramolinus himself) and decently conveyed to the Church of the holy Cross of Conimbria, caused in that devout people, divers motions of Christian piety, but in the Cannon Don Hernando, through holy emulation increased so the thirst of Martyrdom, as he could find no rest by day or night; and he was much more roused up, being taken with the triumphal palms of those valorous Champions, them was Themistocles awakened from sleep through the Trophies of that other Athenian there. In fine, the enkindled flames of charity at this spectacle increased so in him, as Hernando being not able to contain the same, with full resolution, determined to pass likewise over himself into Mauritania, and preaching courageously the faith of Christ, to purchase to himself, a precious death for the glory of Christ, and salvation of Souls.  
Now by this time, he was made Priest, and had arrived to the age of 26. years. He was for his singular virtue and rare talents, so dear to his whole Congregation, as diffiding wholly to get leave of the Abbot for such an enterprise, concealing his purpose under the pretext of choosing a more austere and strict rule, he determined to pass into the new religion of the Friar's Minors, holding for certain, that thence he might more easily compass his desired enterprise. Wherefore making very fervent prayers thereupon, at last he found out this way to execute his design which follows in the next Chapter.   

S. Antony is admitted into the Convent of the Friar's Minors, where he pursues his intent, but all in vain. Chap. 3.  
AMong other Conuents of S. Francis, dispersed through the kingdom of Portugal, there was a little one under the protection of S. Antony the Great, without the walls of Conimbria, where those Fathers philosophising rather with life and manners, then with questions and disputes, gave themselves to let the world understand the vanity of things present, and solid hopes of voluntary poverty. Some two of this Convent, from time to time, were wont to come to the sumptuous and rich Monastery of the holy Cross, according to their institute, very humbly to crave Alms: So as Don Hernando, taking them one day aside, with a lively affect of Charity unfolded unto them, as to two Angels of Paradise, his holy purpose, and besought them, keeping it secret where need was, to deal with their Superiors, about his admission into their Order, but yet with express condition to send him by obedience, as soon as may be unto the land of the Moors, to work some fruit in the conversion of Gentiles. Even from that time, was the name of Hernando famous for learning and goodness; so as the Friar's Minors, took it to be no small favour so to enrich themselves with such a purchase. Wherefore the business being concluded on their parts; on the other Don Hernando began to crave humble licence of his Prelates, who made a very strong resistance for a time; but his prayers were so continual and vehement as they finally prevailed. So as devoutly taking the habit of S. Francis from the Minous in their Cloister, he went his ways thence with such displeasure of the Canons, as he heard at his going forth, such a bitter taunt in the way of jest cast forth by one of them, as this: Go your ways now, perhaps you will be a Saint in that Religion. At which words (said he) with a cheerful countenance: When that shall be, I believe you will give praise and thanks to the Redeemer for it.  
In this manner passing into a new habitation and institute; the first thing he did, was to lay aside all secular habits, and quite to forget his father's house, & to be also himself the more unknown, and quite forgotten of the world, from the title of that little Church, or to say better, Oratory of the Minors, in changing his name, he caused himself to be called Friar Antony. From thence renewing his supplications to God, and his Superiors, and preparing himself continually with fit meditations, to each cruelty of punishments that might be, it was not long ere he was sent into the desired parts of Morocco; where as in a most certain field of battle, he hoped to obtain by dying for Christ, a glorious victory.  
But soon appeared very evident signs of the inscrutable disposition of our Lord; who accepting herein the good will of his servant, had preordained him for other labours, and to other merits. Because, that in the very beginning of his departure, being oppressed with a grievous malady, he was constrained for the most of that winter to keep his bed. Where, though after many proffers and endeavours made in vain, he conjectured, the divine Majesty was no ways propitious to his purposes; yet by the beginning of the next year, having scarcely recovered any forces, he valiantly began afresh to make proof of himself, and to sail towards Africa. But the bark had hardly hoist sail & departed from the haven, when behold a contrary storm of the South-west winds, by force, transported the Mariners to Messina of the Island of Sicily.  
This adventure gave S. Anthony much more matter to reflect upon the interpretation of the divine will, and had yet a more evident sign thereof. As soon as he landed he understood by the Friar's Minors there resident, how of late a general Chapter was intimated of the Order, at Assistum, and therefore it appertained to him also, as a Priest, not hindered by any lawful cause to go thither. Through this citation joined with passed accidents, he came to be satisfied, it was not the divine pleasure he should aspire to preach to the Mahometans or Gentiles. From which bar of exclusion, the wary Merchant went about to make a double profit, one of his own confusion, accusing himself of too much boldness, and presumption in himself; the other of a stable purpose, to suffer himself hereafter to be wholly guided by the Creator, by means of his Ministers; without making choice on his own head, of this or that manner of procuring the divine glory. And withal, since it was not permitted him to expose himself for the holy faith, unto the fury of the people, to the cruelty of Tyrants, to the scourges & knives of the merciless hangmen, he determined to offer up himself, another way to Christ, in a living host, upon the aul●… of Religious justice, by mortifying the flesh with whips, fastings, prayers, and vigils, slaying and annihilating the will and understanding, with perfect obedience, and full contempt of private respect.   

How S. Antony goes hiding his talents for humility sake, and is unknown to men. Chap. 4.  
S. Antony going with such designs in his breast unto the Congregation of Assisium, since by reason of his celebrating of Mass every day, and reciting the canonical hours, his Priestly dignity could not be hidden, he endeavoured at least with all care to conceal the nobility of his blood, the force of his wit, and the variety of learning which he had; which so cunningly he did, as with the whole Chapter, he remained in opinion of an Idiot or simple man, and not apt, either for subtilityes of speculative learning, or manage of practical matters. Whence it followed, that the assembly being dissolved, while distribution of subjects (according to the use) was made, and the Superiors requiring to have some this, some that man, along with them unto their residences, S. Antony remained alone without being required or requested of any. Mean while the divine man exceedingly rejoiced, in beholding himself, in imitation of his great Master and Saviour jesus, without fault of his to be slighted and neglected of all. Yea rather to make continually more intense acts of Christian humility, approaching with great humility and submission to the Minister of the Province of Romania, called Friar Gratianus, he did reverently beseech him, he would deign to entreat Father General, he might take him to him, to instruct him with other Novices, in the ceremonies and observances of the Order.  
Nor was the petition made in vain. For Friar Gratian being moved with the modesty and solitude of the person, come thither from parts so remote; took him benignly along with him, unto his own Diocese, and a little after, at his new instance permitted him to retire himself into the hermitage of Monte Paulo, with some others. Where S. Anthony being provided of a narrow Cell, in fasting with bread and water, and persevering in holy contemplations, and manfully resisting the temptations of the Devil, prepared himself unwittingly, unto the admirable exploits and erterprises, which for the benefit of Christendom, God was pleased to work by his means. Being afterwards called from the deserts to the Conuents, he departed not awhit from his firm deliberations, to use and cause himself to be dealt with by others, as the meanest & most ab●…ct of all: whence the time which he had spare from the altar & Choir, he spent cheerfully in sweeping the house, in serving in the kitchim, and in doing such offices, which ordinarily are held in most scorn, and are most aborted of human pride. And in such ministeryes, he continued hiding, shrouding, and concealing himself from mortal eyes; when it pleased him at last, who beholds the hidden things, to his eternal glory, and salvation of many people & nations, to manifest him to the world, with the occasion following.   

How S. Antony is discovered by his talents, to be singular, and is declared Preacher. Chap. 5.  
IT was now the time of Ecclesiastical Ordinations; and therefore Father Guardian having destined some Friars to the City of Forli, he thought good to lead them thither in person himself, & would needs have S. Antony also along with him being Priest already, as we have said; and as reason dictates unto us, and the Portugal Chronicles themselves do clearly demonstrate, howsoever more modern Authors being moved by one ambiguous word only of Surius, have after affirmed, that S. Anthony went thither to be enroled with the others into the sacred warfare. With this family then, for the same effect, went some Dominicans a long like wise: a Religion instituted as it were, by the eternal Father at the same time of the Franciscans, for the greater help of the Catholic Church, and for supply, of men for the continual preaching of the word of God.  
These two companies, though divers in habit and means, yet in will and end very conformable, being come to Forli, were lodged both in the same place: and not for to give over their spiritual exercises, the hour of their conferences arrived, the Guardian of the Minours made great instance to the Father of the Preachers, that according to their institute they would be pleased, for the common consolation to discourse something of matters concerning the divine service, and for the purchase of virtues. Whereof those virtuous Fathers excusing themselves, through the shortness of time, & wearynes of the journey; the Guardian being doubtless touched with some hidden inspiration from Heaven, contrary to the opinion of all, turned himself to S. Antony, and suddenly imposed upon him to make them a Homily, and to say something of edification. To which precept the servant of Christ very modestly opposed a while, but the Superior and the rest urging him to it, at last not to break with Obedience, recommending himself to God, he began to discourse, but rudely at the beginning, and without any show of learning in him; but in the progress of the discourse, the Holy Ghost without doubt, so guiding his tongue and hart, ere he was aware, he entered into so great a variety of allegations of the divine Scripture, into so great sublimeness of mystical senses, & above all, into so great an access and ardour of charity (which even cast forth flames from his countenance and gesture) as all the Auditors remained partly inflamed with heavenly affects, partly also astonished with wonder, as of a man that knew no more than his Breviary, that never handled as it were any books, and from whose mouth scarcely ever came forth any Latin word.  
But he, to whom, as well the memory, as also the creature itself, served as a Book laid open, and in so long an intermission of study and reading, had yet never failed from treating familiarly with the benign Giver of Wisdom, gave forth to understand in that act, how much richer are the treasures of the mystical & sweet, than the scholastical and sterile Theology. Besides their astonishment at this so sudden an eloquence, such indeed as all confessed they had never heard the like; they had a singular esteem & consideration at his so rare humility, since whereas others, having scarce got a smatch in learning, can hardly contain the unbridled will from appearing in Pulpits, and hunting after vain praise and applause of the people: he though very well instructed already, with infused and purchased learning, and beside endued by nature, with those parts which are required in a Christian Orator, had ever held his peace, & was ever more willing to hear then speak, and strived as much to abase himself, as others do to procure high degrees, and to be notable and famous in the world.  
It was not long ere the Blessed Father S. Francis had news thereof, who took extraordinary contentment therein, and gave infinite thanks therefore to the divine Goodness. And howbeit he might without more ado have deputed S. Antony unto the holy Function of Preaching, as who had been well studied already of himself; yet by reason of his so long intermission now from his said studies, and not to give matter of murmur unto others, he determined to make him renew and refine his mystical Theology, under the direction of the Abbot of S. Andrew in vercels, a man very famous in those days for learning and sanctity, and who among other signs of profound Science, had lately translated the works of S. Denys Areopagita, out of Greek into Latin, and illustrated the same also with his explications and comments. S. Antony then being recommended to this Doctor, with another English Friar called Adam de Marisco, within the space of a year, they both made such profit in the knowledge of celestial things, and arrived to such a height and elevation of mind, as it seemed to the said Master, he had two Angels in his house, and that he had learned of them rather than they of him. With this so happy success, S. Francis was more confirmed in his opinion already conceived of S. Anthony, and with great hope, of much profit to the world, declared him Preacher, & commanded him very confidently henceforth to apply himself to the ministry of the Word or God.   

How S. Antony mollifyed a Tyrant with his sharp reprehension, and brought him to reason. Chap. 6.  
THis excellency of preaching, was not only discovered in the blessed disciple of Christ; but as true humility is capable of all graces, and mother of all virtues, he showed himself very soon, how exceeding sufficient he was for confessions, and apt withal for disputations against Heretics, and for Scholastical chairs, & for writing of books very profitable for the whole posterity, and (being a thing very hardly to be coupled with such 〈◊〉) he showed likewise no small skill and dexterity in government. To all which prerogatives, as by an irrefragable seal and patent, the divine Clemency had annexed the spirit of Prophecy, with the privilege of frequent and manifest miracles. Of each one of which gifts according to our purpose, we shall declare the chief of them with brevity.  
And first, for his preaching, we must know, there was so burning a zeal of the glory of God, and the salvation of men, planted by inch solid and deep roots in the soul of this lover of Christ, as that being suddenly pushed forth of his stand, like a generous steed, he began to discurre through villages, Boroughes, castles, and Cities, leaving steps imprinted of holy customs on all sides, and exciting miserable mortals, from base and terrene cares, to high and celestial thoughts. And this his zeal of Charity, he endeavoured always to keep lively and flaming, with the breath of prayer, and with matter of consideration, keeping also it from all humidity of sensual pleasures or disordinate affections. Whence followed among others, two inestimable advantages, to wit, a great credit with the auditory, and a singular energy of discourse: the one of which conditions, more avails to persuade with, than all the artificiousnes, and figures of rhetorical art that may be: the other how behooveful for a Teacher of truth, and Ambassador of the King of Heaven, may be easily comprehended of every one.  
By this means he came to be free and rid of those bands, which are wont to inveigle the mind, or restrain and tie the tongue of others. So as neither the force, nor malignity of the Mighty was able to dismay him, nor flatteryes or offers of friends to bow him, nor the winds of popular applause to puff him up. Without all exception of persons, as well in public according to occasions, as in private, the magnanimous Interpreter and Messenger of Christ, ceased not to hammer & break the wills grown obdurate in vices, and that with a presence of a courageous hart, as that many famous Preachers, who came to hear●…him would even tremble; and some amazed at the lightning and flashes he sent from him, would cover their face; others again, through doubt of some perilous accident, would retire themselves. Which things to be no whit exaggerated, nor feigned may sufficiently be seen by that, which happened to him, with that famous Tyrant Ezelinus, of the City of Milan, and of a great part of Marea Trevisana.  
This man under a rational figure, having the hart of a Bear, and Tiger, seemed to thirst for nothing more than human blood. perfidiousness and impiety both, were in him as converted into nature: robberies, rapines, destructions through fire & sword, were even sports and recreations to him, and (as to the captains of mischiefs it happens) he was always waited on by Soldiers and Sergeants, neither in avarice, nor cruelty, nor lust much inferior to him. Now this bloody wretch, only to terrify the people, without cause, made many noble Citizens, to be slain in Verona. Saint Antony took such sorrow, and indignation thereat, at that going boldly into the presence of that monster, and those Sergeants of his, began with a loud voice to cry out against him, saying: When wilt thou cea●…e, thou fierce Tyrant, and ravenous Dog, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 so the blood of innocent Christians? When wilt thou termine or m●…gate ever this so great inhumanity? Know then, there hangs a dreadful punishment of the divine justice upon thee which shall not leave unpunished the homicides, the robberies, the extorsions, and wicked slaughters thou committest.  
These things the Servant of God upbraided him with to his face, first in general, and then after in particular, descending into circumstances, with so much vehemency of spirit, with so much sparkling of the eyes, & fervour withal, and with so much weight and liberty of speech, as that most ravenous Wolf became now of a sudden a most meek Lamb, & in the presence of as many as were there, pulling off his girdle with his own hands, & putting it about his neck, cast himself at his feet, very humbly craving pardon, both of God and him, and offering himself most ready to perform whatsoever penance the Venerable Father should impose upon him. Whereupon the Blessed Antony being somewhat pacified, and the penitent confirmed with sweet admonitions in his good purposes, not only without any hurt at all, but rather with a great deal of reputation and honour, and grace withal, came from him: the people remaining the while much admiring, and amazed beyond measure, how Ezelinus at the first sound of such rebukes and reprehensions, had not caused him to be hewed in pieces, and cast forth to the beasts with a look only. To take away the wonder, he yet wholly confounded, and even pale for fear, said: Let it not seem strange to you my Masters, what here I have done, because while that same Religious man spoke in that manner, I manifestly saw most lively rays of divine splendour to come from his face, which so dazzled me, & filled me with such fear, that even doubtless me thought, I should even have been swallowed into hell. These words indeed Ezelinus spoke, and such feelings he showed for the present: but as the promises proceeded from servile fear, & not for the love of virtue, after a short remorse, returned the Barbarous wretch to his former custom, accusing himself for having yielded so basely, to the boldness and menaces of a presumptuous Friar, and perhaps also a dissembler and hypocrite. Yet nevertheless, remained that more than humane countenance so engraven in his memory, and that Majesty, wherewith he was terrified, as to him it seemed very hard to believe, that without some heavenly concourse, and the hidden merits of so courageous a reprehender, so strange and unusual a thing should befall him.  
After the Tyrant had been thus perplexed in mind a pretty while, wavering in himself, he resolved at last to clear himself in that point of the goodness & sincerity of the Friar, with the touchstone as follows. Taking then forth of his treasury a rich jewel, he gave it to some Ruffians, of his, to carry it to S. Antony on his behalf, with fair and amorous speeches, but with express order, that if he accepted the same, as a false & covetous man, they should suddenly hew him to pieces: and if he should refuse it, they should with all respect abstain, as from a person truly holy and acceptable to God; nor for whatsoever he should say unto them, they should take any revenge upon him, but without any reply at all return back again. With such commission those Russians being come to S. Antony, and entreating him with the greatest courtesy they could, to accept of that small charity, which Ezelinus sent him, and to remember him only in his devout prayers; by so lively experience they presently knew what he was, since with a severe look & show of anger, he thus answered to the message: God forbid, I receive in sign of liberality the very blood of the poor of Christ: for which shall Ezelinus, ere he be aware thereof, make an exact account to the divine justice: and get you hence also without delay, least through your iniquities either the house overwhelm us with a sudden ruin, or the earth come to swallow us up with a horrible rupture.  
Whereat those miserable wretches, with bowing down the head, went silently and fearfully away to give account to their wicked master of the whole success; who being cleared in this manner of the suspicions falsely conceived by him, touching the servant of God, from that time forwards held him in the esteem he ought, and gave order to his soldiers, they should let him say of him what he listed himself: and though the Tyrant, through his inveterate custom in sinning, was never converted from his lewd ways, yet certain it is, that the memory of S. Antony served him often times for a bridle, and through fear and reverence of so great a man, he forbore afterwards to commit many outrages, which he had otherwise effected without respect. These then and the like assaults, the courageous Champion of Christ, would not fail to make at any time when need required. Though indeed no marvel it be, that for the defence of the truth, he should not fear the face of any man how angry soever, who with so much desire heretofore had sought to drink of the chalice of the passion.   

The excellent gifts, and talents of S. Antony, especially necessary to so notable a preacher, as he was. Chap. 7.  
LEt no man think by the former Chapter, that S. Antony showed himself to be so rigorous and terrible to all. He wanted not judgement to discern the difference of his Auditors, nor skill and practice to deal with the rich, with the poor, with the noble and ignoble, according to the capacity, and nature, and state of each one. And how beyt the principal foundation of his preaching was placed, as we have said, in frequent prayer, and continual abnegation of himself; nevertheless he took light and nourishment of sound and sincere knowledge from the ancient Doctors, sacred Counsels, and divine Scriptures, wherein he was so versed and dexterous, as it is affirmed for certain, that when by any misfortune, they might hap to be lost, he alone from the Cabinet of his memory, was sufficient to recover them again, as heretofore Esdras had done, and to put them faithfully in writing.  
Whereof among other persons of authority, Gregory the Ninth his Holiness, gave truly a most clear and grave testimony; for that S. Antony being come to the Court of Rome (for this likewise was a notable exploit of his) to oppose the designs and endeavour of Friar Elias, and of others, who sought to wrest the Rule, and enlarge the Religious discipline, he not only laboured efficaciously in this matter, but preached also to the Court, and people of Rome, in diverse places and times, with so great abundance of true and profund conceits, with such subtilityes, and art in discovering the origens and causes of vices, and in appling apt remedies to each one, and with such sharp and sound interpretations of the Psalms and the Prophets, and of all histories & Oracles, and divine precepts as the Pope himself being astonished, besides infinite other praises afforded him, with a Pontifical spirit daigned to call him, The Ark of the Testament. There were added to these so rare gifts of a Christian Orator, a dignity of aspect, a grace in his gestures, á sweetness and cleernes of voice, and all in so eminent a degree, as he seemed to be an organ for honest delectation, and for a wholesome moving of souls, framed by the hand of God himself. And that which more increased the wonder, was so great a variety, quaintness, and propriety in the Italian tongue, in a man trained up in Provinces so remote, and come into Italy being of years so mature, and so late brought forth to the light of the world, and to the eminency of Pulpits.  
Whence it is not very easy to explicate the concourse of people of all conditions, that assembled together at the sound of that celestial harmony and divine Trumpet: in shutting up their shops, leaving their traficks in the market places, and the noises of the Palace, and taking up places before day at the sacred audience, with such haste and strife withal, as many times the servant of God was constrained to abandon the Churches and Cities, and go forth into the spacious plains, and there from the higher banks to break the bread of the divine word unto the hungry multitude. And he howbeyt corpulent by nature, and much subject to sweeting, and diverse infirmities, left not for all that, to expose himself with great promptness, and without sparing any labour, or trouble where the greatest need was, & hope of a more certain & copious harvest.  
Now who were able to set down what fruit followed, to the glory of our Lord and salvation of men? Who could number the rancours and enmityes deposed, the restitutions made, the Concubines forsaken, the processions, disciplines, fasts, the pious works both common and particular instituted for behoof of body & soul? Many contemning the vanity of the world, though rich and potent otherwise, either dedicated themselves to the divine service in Religion, or the better to assure their conscience, very freely subjected their whole substance and their life itself, unto the dispose of the faithful servant of Christ; the good and faithful through his discourses would depart from him very full of consolation of new courage and purpose afresh. The sinners chase away darkness and sleep, astonished at the divine providence, acknowledging their perilous estate, and the grievousness of their sins, as wonted Hearts to the fountain, so ran they to the tribunal of Confessors, with tears and sighs.   

How S. Antony mounts into the Chair of Theology, and was the first of his Order, that read in those Schools. Chap. 8.  
WE may not seem to pass over in silence, how 22. thieves being accustomed to rob and murder travaylours in a certain thick and obscure forest, and then after unknown in the City, to appear in the habit of Honourable persons, being lastly moved with the fame, which ran every where of the Angelical preaching of S. Anthony, resolved to go all at once to hear him. And found the report of him to be nothing false, but rather remained so mollifyed and softened, at his fiery speeches, as the sermon being hardly finished, they went all one after another, to cast themselves at the feet of the Preacher, with most humble confession, craving absoluion at his hands, and promising amendment. Of whom being graciously heard, and with fatherly admonitions being encouraged and instructed, they retired themselves to perform the pennances imposed upon them.  
By which example, may easily be estimated without more ado, how great, and how unusual effects, that instrument of the divine goodness occasioned in the hearts of men. So as S. Bonaventure in the second translation of the Saint, which was some thirty two years after his death, finding that happy tongue, through the divine will, wholly fresh and red, with good reason exclaimed: O tongue, which hast ever blessed God, and taught others to bless him likewise, it appears now manifestly of what merit thou wast before our Lord: and so kissing it devoutly he placed it in a decent Reliquary, for that purpose. But returning to the matter of the spiritual purchase, and most burning zeal of S. Antony. It is surely a marvellous thing, how the man of God, notwithstanding the occupation of the pulpit, and other travails of no light importance, employed himself very willingly in hearing confessions, and with so much prudence, and longanimity applied himself to look into, and to cure the wounds of souls, as sometimes from morning, to late in the eveuing, he had no time to restore his weary and afflicted body either with meat, or repose at all.  
The Heretics moreover and the Heresiarks being manifestly convinced by the wisdom and spirit that spoke in him, were constrained openly either with base silence to confess their perfidiousness, or with wholesome compunction to accept the truth. Though indeed he combated against such a plague, ●…ot only from aloft with long and continued speeches, but even also in meetings and assemblies in schools, with syllogisms and distinctions, and with other arts which Logic teaches. Which particularly is seen in the Cities of Arimini, Milan, & Tholouse. From which things grew also another effect of no small consideration, as well for the common benefit of all Christendom, as for the especial increase and reputation of the Friar's Minors.  
The said Religion, as we mentioned, was lately founded by the most Blessed Father S. Francis, in profession and spirit, rather of Christian poverty and humility, then of erudition or learning. Which though they were not despised, or in contempt with him, yet was he very circumspect and cautious in admitting them into his Institute, being desirous that his Friars should preach rather with example and good works, then with precepts, and words: nor lightly would he give them leave to study, as fearing not without good reason, least through weakness of humane nature, much reading might extinguish devotion, and the wind of curiosity destroy the building of Charity. From this caution of the holy Father, and simplicity which commonly appeared in his children, sprang up an universal opinion in the world, that the Friars were certainly but silly, and good men only; but ignorant merely and little apt for discovering the deceits of the ancient adversary, and judging the quality of sins, or distinguishing between leprosy and leprosy, and by consequence unable to cooperate with the divine providence in the conducting of souls.  
Now some Fathers being desirous to cancel this note, as zealous of the fame of their Order, and of the glory of Christ, made great instance unto the Blessed Antony, he would take the pains to read and explicate the more graver sciences, and set up in the Religion of the Minors a School also, whence as from a noble and perpetual Seminary, might issue from time to time sufficient workmen for the Vinyard of our Lord. To which so honest requests, howbeit otherwise he would willingly have condescended, yet having some notice of the mind of his common Father and Superior, he could never be brought to accept the enterprise, until such time, as he had express faculty and commission from him, with a letter of the tenor following: To his most dear Brother Antony, Friar Francis sends greeting. I am content that you read Divinity to the Friars, but in such sort, that (according to the advice of the Rule) neither in you or them, the spirit of holy Prayer may be extinguished.  
Hereby, all excuse being taken away, S. Antony did at last begin to satisfy the continual desires of the Friars, and he was the first, who in that, venerable Family ever held the Chair; beginning in Mompelier in France, and prosecuting afterwards in Bologna, and then in Milan. To which City, whether it were for the clemency of the air, or for the humanity and disposition of the inhabitants, he bore very special affection: and with this his new labour of interpreting the divine mysteries, he came both to illustrate the Order of Minours, and to afford the militant Church a fit supply of the choicest fouldiours. Amidst these so noble and fruitful cares of his, the Servant of Christ, could not also avoid that same of governing others, in diverse degrees, and places of France, and Italy, where he was (according to the institute of the Order) both Guardian and Minister. In which dignities, howbeit he showed affability, and such judgement, as he was both reverenced and beloved of his subjects: yet to the end he might more readily attend to spiritual works, and for the greater common good, it seemed well to Pope Gregory the IX. through singular privilege, to discharge him of all superintendency of Conuents, or of Provinces, which do necessarily bring with them diverse distractions and thoughts of temporal matters. And besides the office of confessing, conversing with the Neighbours, and preaching, the same Pope would have him to put his sermons into writing, that the profit might not only derive to the present and living, but even also to the absent, and posterity. Whereupon retiring himself a new into the City of Milan, being a place for diverse occasions very apt for all exercise of learning, he went forward in putting those books to writing, which are now read in print, & which to the studious of christian eloquence, serve as a copious and rich storehouse for any subject whatsoever.   

A certain Prophecy of S. Antony fulfiled, of one Philip a Martyr of Christ. Chap. 9  
HItherto we have spoken of the actions of the Saint, which are imitable of each religious person. It remains now to touch some thing of the more admirable. And to begin with prophecy, whereof two no less certain than famous predictions, sufficiently declare, how much this so precious a gem shined in the blessed S. Antony. There being a woman at Assisium now ready to be brought to bed, she devoutly recommended herself to his intercession, who for charityes sake had been to visit her. To which request, through the hidden instinct of God, he manifestly answered forthwith, she should be of good cheer, that she should have a happy labour, and have a son, and that which more imported, he was destiny by divine providence, first, to be a glass of virtue in the Religion of S. Francis, and then also with effusion of his blood, and greattorments, for Christ should purchase a palm of a glorious martyrdom. There was nothing of all this that infallibly fell not out. The happy Babe was borne without hurt of itself or mother, and in the sacred Baptism, took the name of Philip. And passing his first years in Angelical purity, of his own election became a Friar Minour. Hence fortifying himself in the love and fear of the eternal God, through a heavenly inspiration, was moved to the pilgrimage of the holy Land, and arrived at Azotus, even just at the time, when that City, was by treason taken by the Saracens, and the Christians that were there, to the number of two thousand, were all publicly condemned to death.  
Through which so cruel a sentence, Philip fearing lest some being affrighted might come to abandon the holy faith, requested as a favour at the ministers hands of the Sultan there (and obtained it without difficulty) to be the last executed of all. Whence the mahometans being brought into some hope, that he would renounce in the mean time; found themselves at last to be far deceived of their expectation. Because the cruel spectacle being now begun, Philip endeavoured with all fervour & fortitude of mind to comfort all the Christians, to suffer freely, speaking aloud, he had a revelation of our Lord, that he was to enter that day into the kingdom of Heaven, with more than a thousand Martyrs; through which so high a promise these faithful people being exceedingly comforted, did voluntarily, yea even cheerfully present their bare necks, to the sword of the bloody Executioner.  
Which thing the Sultan noting (who beyond measure abhorred the name of Christ) entered into such a fury, as he suddenly commanded, that with all the sorts of most exquisite torments that might be, should his temerity and boldness be punished, that durst so dissuade from the worship of the Great Mahomet. Whereupon a troop of hangmen, assailing Philip without more ado, and in the sight of the whole company of Christians, went first to cut of his fingers joint by joint, in which so sharp and prolix a torment, he never ceasing to exhort and inflame the Christians, in such wise as neither being enforced with menaces, nor won with flatteryes, they all cried out, with one accord, they would follow by all means the steps, and counsels of the courageous Philip. The Sultan continually more enraged, caused him to be flayed alive to the navel, and afterwards that blessed tongue to be cut out, whereof being deprived & torn in all parts, he ceased not for all that with signs and gestures, and much more with example to inflame those sacred victimes, until such time as he was beheaded with them, and that altogether ascended to the eternal Country, leaving even to their enemies behind, an evident sign of their felicity, since the bodies being kept a good while, in the same place unburied & uncovered did not only not give forth the least ill savour, but rather yielded a most sweet odour. And in this sort came that to effect which had now for so many years before, without all doubt, or ambiguity at all, already been prophesied by S. Antony.   

Another example of S. Antony's prophecies, which happened in another Martyr. Chap. 10.  
NO less memorable than the former, was a certain revelation, which S. Antony manifested clearly being Guardian at that time in the confines of Aquitan, in a City, which being in a more high place, the Frenchmen called Le Pay, and the vulgar Italian Val Poggio, and was anciently by the Latins called Anicium. In this City among other Inhabitants, was a certain Notary, very Catholic in faith, the worldly in his dealings, and more practised in taking of Suretyships, then discerning of spirits, more acquainted with plying the judges, and Advocates, then frequenting of Churches and Sacraments. And yet S. Antony on a time, meeting him one the way, with a low duck, & uncovering of the head, made him an extraordinary reverence and obeisance. Which thing the Notary, being guilty of his own quality, and not tied through any friendship to the poor Friar; at first attributed the same to error or simplicity, afterwards perceiving him to persist in the said observance, when he saw him a far of, endeavoured to shun him. But meeting full on a time where he could not avoid him, and the Friar saluting him again with the accustomed, or rather with greater sign of honour then ever, he holding the same as an act of scorn and derision towards him, began with anger, even grinding his teeth, and drawing out his sword withal, and to cry out, saying: If thou hadst not been a Friar, I had now a good while since even thrust this same in thy sides.  
But tell me, thou rude, base, and errant jack: What is the matter thou scoffs me thus to my face? To whom the servant of Christ answered with all submission; Brother, trouble not yourself, I do reverence you with my hart, and do honour you withal fidelity that may be: the reason is, for that I having greatly desired, & begged as a favour of our Lord, to spend my blood in his holy service, have never been worthy, nor hath he been pleased to hear my suit. But indeed of you, he hath revealed to me, that you shall one day dye a Martyr; Whence I am constrained with a sweet envy, to hold you in the esteem and regard I do: and do most affectuously entreat you, that when you shall come to that glorious conflict, you would be mindful of me poor wretched sinner. At which words the Notary being pacified, converting choler into laughter, went his ways jesting at the matter. Nor long it was, but the effect did really succeed.  
Because the Bishop of that City, preparing himself to go unto the holy Sepulchre, the Notary being touched with supernal motives, resolved to accompany him thither, as he did. And being arrived at Palestine possessed by the Saracens, the Bishop happened to fall into dispute, of matters concerning the holy Faith. In which conflict those barbarous people showing themselves very bold and iusolent, against the honour of Christ, and the Bishop being timorous in defending the same, and in opposing their blasphemies; the Notary could by no means brook such indignities, but courageously entered into the quarrel, & without any respect a whit endeavoured to discover & accuse the vanity, fraud, & ambitions of their wicked Master whom they adored: whereupon the Mahumetan●… being all enraged taken the Notary, & for the space of three continual days, having satiated their greedy desires, with mangling and scourging the victorious warrior of Christ, at last they led him to death: and he remembering very well, what had been told to him by S. Antony, declared it to the Christians about him, and with infinite consolation, stretching forth his neck, to the servants of impiety, and washing his stole anew in the blood of the Lamb, went immaculate to the heavenly banquet. And thus, with the stupour, and amazement of all, came the Oracle to be verified.   

Of sundry apparitions of S. Antony, made in his own person, upon several occasions. Chap. 11.  
THe apparitions of God, made to S Antony, & of him to others, are worthy of eternal memory. Being one day received as a Guest, by a certain Knight, no less devout than illustrious, he had a lodging appointed him, far from noise, where he might the better attend to study, and contemplation. Now, while the Knight passes in the night by the house, he sees a most bright splendour to proceed from that chamber, whereat marveling much, he secretly approaches to the door, and looking through the key hole, beholds upon an open book before S. Antony, a child of a celestial beauty; who sending forth rays more bright than the Sun, threw himself tenderly about the neck of the blessed man, and embraced him without end, and S. Antony likewise him, with ineffable joy and affection. Amidst these chaste embraces the most sweet Babe showed him how his Host was standing at the door, & beheld all things remaining in a rapt. S. Antony not envied him so happy a sight, letting him enjoy it at his pleasure, until such time as the glorious child did vanish away, when lastly he opened the door, and with a thousand prayers conjured him to keep the matter in secret until his death. So promised the Knight and observed the same: and as soon as the Servant of Christ was quit of the bands of his body, he unloosed the same of silence, and began to proclaim the aforesaid spectacle, and to affirm it with oaths and tears together, with so much gust as he could never be satisfied with recounting it. And hence it is, that the images of the Saint, are seen so depainted with a child in his arms, sitting on a book, for a difference of others of his Order. In this manner was S. Antony among other times, as then made worthy of the presence of our Saviour.  
And he also, as we said more than once, afforded himself in several places, unto diverse persons at once, and that always either for the divine service, or for edification, and the help of neighbours: as particularly happened to him in France, while he was preaching first in Mompelier, in the great Church, after in Lymoges in S. Peter's, which they call of the Quadrino. Because S. Antony being in the pulpit, and remembering suddenly, he had forgot to substitute one in the Choir of the Convent, who should supply his part, that belonged to him; suddenly by divine power, not failing neither the people assembled, nor pulpit, was present with his Friars to sing his Lesson, and Antiphone.  
At other times his Father being falsely accused in Lisbon, for intercepting the monies of the fiscal, and then again for killing a young man, which by certain wicked men, was of purpose put into his garden with many signs of blood upon him, S. Antony in the mean while being certified by diviue revelation of what had happened at both times, from places and Provinces most remote, was found to be present in the same moment in the City of Lisbon; and as for the monies he made the Magistrates to understand, that the King's Treasurers, though fully satisfied heretofore, yet maliciously had denied the receipt thereof, and acquittances given. For the homicide, it pleased him to demand it publicly of the dead himself, whether his Father (though sentenced already for it) were guilty of the said wickedness: whereto having answered no, without the urging of S. Antony to name the malefactors, he demanded absolution of the servant of God, for a certain excommunication he had formerly incurred, and intercession for his sins; which having obtained in the sight of all the multitude, he fell down dead into the sepulchre again. And thus S. Antony conserved his innocent Father in his goods, honours, and life.  
Moreover, the servant of Christ, was wont to show himself clearly in the night in sleep, to some inveterated in sensuality, and other vices, who for fear or shame durst not to lay open their enormous sins to the Priest, and upbraiding them their of crimes, and circumstances thereof, now to admonish them with sweetness, and now to constrain them with severity and menaces, to repair to this or that Confessor, as he esteemed most for the purpose, & so with the Sacrament of penance they had time, to deliver themselves from the power of the devil: which even the penitents themselves related afterwards, not without the great marvel of every one. So as neither in this also may the blessed S. Antony be accounted inferior to S. Nicholas, to S. Ambrose, to S. Francis, and others, of whom it is read, how they had the same very favours from the Almighty in divers occurrences. And since we have newly made mention of penitents, we may not fold up in silence, how efficacious the words of S. Antony were concerning that wholesome Sacrament.   

Other notable examples, of the efficacy of S. Antony's preaching, not without manifest miracles. Chap. 12.  
A Certain Citizen of Milan by name Leonard, confessing unto him, among other iniquities discovered, being very contrite, that he kicked his Mother on the belly so hard, as he threw her to the ground. For which the Saint reprehending him most grievously, in process of discourse said to him: How that foot which had had the boldness to strike the belly, whence he came forth, deserved to be cut off. The words were not spoken to a deaf man: the absolution received, Leonard goes his ways home, and interpreting the syllables as they sounded, taking a hatchet really in hand, he cut off his foot, and presently being seized with a mortal sooning, began to cry out aloud; to these cries the unfortunate Mother full of fear came suddenly in, the Chirurgeons are sent for, the wound is swathed with little hope of remedy or cure, the neighbours run in, one cries, another weeps, all are astonished.  
The woeful woman, scarcely yet recovering breath, goes her ways with her hair dishevelled to the Saint, and with womanish plaints, & bitter sobs, charges him with the death of her dear son. The Blessed Antony, with the news thereof remained extremely disconsolate and afflicted, and not content to have discharged himself with just excuses, he went immediately to the lodging of that simple man, and there sending up inflamed prayers to God, he took up the foot cut off, and laying it to the stump of the leg, with the benediction of God so united the same, as the young man without grief or scar remained safe and sound. The fame of so great a miracle dilated itself throughout, and thanks were rendered to the divine goodness on all sides. These and other such like shinge befell S. Antony in Confessions.  
But turn we now to his Preaching again, we may not let pass, how the Crusado for the holy Land being proclaimed, under Gregory the IX. and a most ample jubiley published for such an intention in Rome, there assembled together an infinite number of people from all parts of Christendom, as Greeks, French, Almans, Spaniards, English, and of other nations: by all which, the blessed S. Antony was heard to preach at once, each one in their proper language, as in the City of Jerusalem heretofore the Apostles were heard on the solemn day of Pentecost; that supernatural effect being renewed, with the astonishment of as many as heard the same.  
In Arimini, the City being full of Heretics, S. Antony endeavoured chiefly, and not without much travail to reduce the Heresiarcke Bonuillus, or (as some would have it) Bonellus to a better mind, who for thirty years' continuallly had persecuted the Church of Christ: and after his amendment, notwithstanding many others yet remaining most perverse in their obstinacy, and shutting their ears unto the truth, after that S. Antony with many prayers in vain, had invited them to a Sermon, there being a great number of them as then forth of the walls, where the river called Marechia discharges itself into the Sea; with great confidence in our Lord, he begins to call the Fishes unto the word of God, since men of reason & redeemed with his precious blood, would by no means seem to hearken to him. And incredible thing had it not been evident: he had scarce given forth the command, when an innumerable multitude of fishes of sundry forms and bigness, were seen to appear on the waters of the Sea and river, which even of their own accord came in by shoals, and with heads erected accommodating themselves to listen to him; in so much as the lesser put themselves near to the banks side, and then the greater and bigger in order, with so goodly and fair a dispose, as a more pleasing sight could not be seen.  
To these squadrons so well ordered, the blessed S. Antony lifting up his voice began to unfold unto them the benefits vouchsafed them from the Creator, the gift of swiftness and colours, and of their beauty in particular; the medicine subministred from them by Toby; the tribute, and food of our Lord himself: the mystery of the Resurrection represented in the Prophet jonas. For which reasons with many others beside did S. Antony exhort them to yield God thanks. To which advice of his those Marine troops▪ since they could not by words, with sundry motions at least did signify their obedience, stooping with the head, sporting with jubilee and showing a will to honour the messenger of Christ. Nor would they depart from the place, until they were licenced thence, through his holy benediction. And so in the mean time the concourse of spectators being now continually grown greater; the man of God taking then occasion, upbraided those obstinate and perverse men of their malice and impiety, since in acknowledging the high Creator, admitting so his holy law, they would so manifestly suffer themselves to be vanquished by beasts; whereupon the Heretics at last remained confounded, and the Catholics continually more confirmed, in the holy doctrine and veneration of the Sea Apostolic.   

Other miracles which S. Antony wrought in the sight of Heretics, to the conversion of many, and confusion of others. Chap. 13.  
MOst famous was that which happened in the exequyes of a certain public Usurer, now buried already: at which exequyes, it belonging to the blessed S. Antony to make the sermon, he took for text that saying of our Saviour: Vbi est the saurus tuus, ibi est & cor tuum. To which purpose with accustomed liberty he inveighed against the disordinate love of gold and silver, and weighed the inestimable damages which grow from thence: finally to let them see with their eyes themselves the truth of that sentence, turning himself to the nearest parents of the dead: Go your ways (said he) by and by, to the chest of the miserable wretch, and there within shall you find his very hart itself: which they did without contradiction, and to the great terror of them, and of the whole land, in the midst of his monies they found the said hart, as yet not wholly cold. We shall now add another of no terror awhit, but of mere consolation.  
S. Anthony being Custos at Lymoges, after he had passed through France still preaching here and there, chanced to discourse with the inhabitants of Burges. But the press was so great of such as came to hear him, as that the Canons of the Church, putting themselves in procession with the whole Auditory, went forth of the gates of the town, into the open fields: where while the man of God puts himself to discourse in an eminent place, behold there gathered together very black clouds in the air, which threatened a terrible ●…pest; for fear whereof the people flying from thence & beginning to shift for themselves, S. Antony said with a loud voice: Be of good cheer my masters; stir not a foot, there shall not a drop of water light upon any of you. The people obeyed: and behold suddenly a mighty storm of hail and rain to fall from heaven, which environing the Auditory as a wall, did not wet the breadth of a palm in the whole circuit, but left the people dry & untouched. Whence followed many praises unto God, and extraordinary credit and reverence to S. Antony.  
And now to speak something likewise of marvels succeeding in his disputations with Heretics: It is reported for certain, how the divine man being at Arimini on a time, or as others would have it, in the City of Tholouse, a malapert minister of Satan▪ of the Sect of Berengarius, being not able to maintain himself in a controversy of the most holy Sacrament, against the reasons alleged by S. Anthony, said finally unto him. Thou confoundest me with words, as more learned than I; but not because they have more foundation of truth. But let us come to some more clear experiences in effect; Whence I may be certified indeed, that God is really present in the consecrated host, and I promise and swear unto you (when it shall succeed) that I will confess to be vanquished, and believe this article, in the manner as you teach it.  
S. Anthony accepts the condition, nor doubts awhit to put the quality of the trial to his own choice. Let us do it then in this manner replied the Heretic. This day will I begin to keep my Mule without meat, & after three days again shall I bring him forth so hungry into the market place, together with a peck of oats for the purpose. And at the same time thou likewise come thither with thy azime or host, and if the beast in presence of the one and other shall forbear to eat the oats, and turn to bow unto thy bread, I am content also to adore the same, without more ado. In the name of God said S. Antony let the matter be published through the City. The third day being come, both parties repair to the marketplace, with such a throng of people as every one may judge. here S. Anthony sacrificeth upon an Altar set up for the purpose, and before he communicates, converting himself to the principal Citizens, with lighted torches about him, holding the Host in his hand replenished with faith, ●…es to the brute beast, which now was scenting the oats, & commands him in power of that God there present, that l●…uing the prouande●… now taken out of the sack, & set before him, to come presently to his Creator, and acknowledge and adore him in the said Host.  
The Priest had scarcely ended these words, when the Mule despising the provender, with headbowing, humbly approaching to the most holy sacrament kneeled down to adore it, to the infinite iubiley of the good, and wholesome conversion of that wretched Sacramentary. In this manner was a very strange experiment brought to pass, unworthy indeed of so high a mystery; but yet nothing prejudicial, nor perilous to the life of S. Antony.   

How S. Antony escaped the treacheries of his enemies by secret poison, and of the opinion he gained with all men. Chap. 14.  
SOme others of the same kind with the former, found out another more wicked proof, and by so much more dangerous, as more hidden; who being not won with the former passage, but more exasperated rather with the said miracle, determined with poison to murder the servant of Christ. Inviting him therefore to dinner (whither he refused not to go, being desirous to help any manner of ways) under colour of charity, they present him with poisoned meat; which fraud being suddenly known in spirit, he reprehended them with love & gravity for such impiety: but those obstinate and perverse men, instead of being compunct, and penitent thereat, unto their hidden deceits added a manifest impudence, and boldly thereupon began to say: How Christ had promised his faithful Disciples, that neither the poisonous, nor fatal drinks, should seem to hurt them. Whence if he would but taste thereof, he should soon doubtless confess that saying of the Gospel to be false. At which words S. Antony recollecting himself, and on the one side, holding the taking of such food were a mere tempting of him that had revealed the danger unto him; and fearing on the other, through the wicked disposition of those Calumniatours to occasion some discredit to the sacred Scripture, was resolved at last to eat, and drink the same without exception, if they would promise to return to the Catholic faith, when as he should receive no hurt thereby. To which condition they yielding assent, his word was performed, as well without the hurt of his person, as with the glorious purchase of those minds seduced.  
These, and many other things, which for brevity we let pass were wrought by the Blessed Anthony in the name of Christ, beyond all course & compass of humane power: which being matched with a singular innocency of manners, and with a solid, lively and inflamed eloquence, may not seem strange they should fructify so much, not only in the hearts of the meaner and poorer sort (which ordinarily is wont, very willingly to accept the word of God, & without difficulty to raise the affect from visible things) but even also in the minds of the rich and potent; who so rarely embrace the seed of the Gospel, and be so hardly weaned from false delights, and designs, to aspire with pains, mortifications, and alms to the future felicity. And yet many of this condition rendered themselves to the battles of this great Captain, and committed wholly to his discretion and government (as we said) both their goods and lives.  
Among which, a principal Baron of Milan, being called Tisone Campo San Pietro, may not seem to be reckoned in the last place. This man after he had served long in the wars, wherein he had been a chief Commander, retiring himself to his house, and laying his arms aside, at the entreaty of the Blessed Antony, with the good example of the whole City, gave himself to spirit; and conceiving fervour and zeal to help his subjects, obtained of the Blessed Father to vouchsafe to come into the Land of Campo S. Pietro (from whose dominion, took the noble family of the Tison's that name) to cultivate & instruct the rude people there in Christian Religion, and in the fear of God. Which S. Antony refused not, especially for that there was in that place a little Convent of Minours, that was maintained by the alms of Tisone himself. True it is, that S. Antony being arrived there, to remain more retired, would not abide continually, neither among the Friars, nor less in the Palace of his Host, but under a Nut-tree of an unmeasurable greatness, from whose trunk grew forth six great branches in manner of a crown, causing three little Cells to be set up, one for himself, and the other for two Friars and companions of his (in which work Tisone himself with singular piety did labour with his own hands) whence S. Antony was wont after his exercises of prayer and contemplation, to preach unto the people; which assembled to that heavenly food, from the neighbour countries thereabout; but yet descending at the hours of refection and rest, he remained in the Convent.  
Amidst these things the divine man, although by his old Institute he shunned, and had all worldly glory in much horror; yet through the greatness of his merits, he was arrived to that venerati●…n with the people, that even pieces of his poor cassock were sec●…etly cut off for devout Relics; & when the word Saint was but named, for excellency sake it was commonly understood of him. And yet he notwithstanding continued in austetityes, macerations, & vigils, not that his flesh now tamed and subdued already, had need thereof; but to afford therein a perpetual example, and edification to seculars. Who ordinarily not having just weights to balance the integrity of virtues, are wont, and accustomed to value and prize perfection, by the exterior afflictions and penances they discover in Religious.   

The Death of S. Antony, with the sequels thereof: and his speedy Canonization. Chap. 15.  
With such manner of strictness of life accompanied (as we have said) with an extraordinary weak complexion, and many labours, and travails withal, came the servant of Christ to be so feeble, as being surprised in Campo San Pietro with a grievous infirmity, he soon, and directly told it likewise to one about him, that he was now arrived to the term of his short days, and hoped ere long to go, & enjoy those places without term or measure of tyme. And withal not to be troublesome in his cure, either to that small Oratory of Minors, or the lay Families there, though he were with the most affectuous prayers that might be, conjured by all to abide with them, yet causing himself to be laid in a Country cart, he went to Milan. And considering that in the Monastery of Sancta Maria Maior, within the walls, he should too much be molested with visits, he diverted to another place, which is called Arcella, of Franciscans indeed, but yet somewhat forth of the City.  
here now being oppressed with the malady, with all devotion he received the wholesome Sacraments, and with hands joined together, and lifted up, not without extraordinary feeling he recited the seven Penitential psalms, and a devout hymn to the most Blessed Virgin, whose protection with particular service he had always sought to rely upon. From thenceforth he begins suddenly to lift up his eyes, and to fix them on heaven; & being demanded what he looked upon? I behold, said he, my Lord jesus Christ and after a short repose, among a thousand benedictions and pious tears of his dearest friends, he yielded up his spirit to the Creator, with all the tranquillity and serenity that might be, in the year of our Lord 1231. and the 13. of the month of june, on a Friday, he being then but 36. years of age, whereof 15. he had spent in his Father's house, two in S. Vincents' of Lisbon, 9 at the holy Cross of Conimbria, and about some 10. in the Order of S. Francis  
After the passage, that blessed flesh, which through evil usage, was before so horrid to see, so rugged, dry, and wrincked to be touched, became in a moment so white, soft, and plump, as if it had been of a tender and delicate child. His beloved friend & master the Abbot of vercels, whom we mentioned above, at that time, was much afflicted, with a disease of the throat. And even lo, the same day, when S. Antony died, being in his chamber alone at prayer, he saw him suddenly to appear before him; and after mutual salutation, & embraces: Behold (said he) my Lord Abbot, having left my Ass at Milan, how I go in haste to my Country. And saying so, with a light touch only, he cured his throat, and so vanished. But the Abbot steadfastly believing, that S. Antony was really passed by to Lisbon, going forth of his chamber, began to inquire of hi●… familiars, where he was; from whom not gathering any thing, at last returned into himself, and conjectured by that vision the happy departure of the man of God: whereupon, making new diligence by letters, he found the encounter of hours and moments to be just the same, as he himself did afterwards testify.  
In the mean while the Friars of Arcella, fearing some tumultuous concourse would be at the body, endeavoured to keep the departure of the servant of Christ very secret, but in vain. Because the very innocent boys, through hidden instigation of the spirit, began in many troops to go crying through the countries: The holy Father is dead, the Saint is dead. With which voice the people being awaked, on a sudden they shut up their shops, and laying all other business aside, put themselves in arms, with great effusion of blood, while one part stood for retaining the sacred treasure in Arcella, and the other to convey him into the City: but after many and perilous bickerings between them, by the humble prayers of the Friars, & the authority of the Magistrates it was obtained, that as himself being near to death had requested, he should be carried to the Church of Sancta Maria Maior, and so he was accompanied thither by the Bishop, the Clergy, and by persons of quality in good order, with such abundance of lights, as the whole City seemed to be on fire.  
here the high Mass being sung by the Bishop, began continually new and stupendious miracles to manifest themselves in diverse infirmities of souls and bodies. To which fame, with incredible fervour, continued a long time, whole troops of Pilgrims to resort thither, not only of those confines, but of Italy also, and as it were of all Europe, with such a number of large gifts, and precious offerings, as they were fain to appoint chamberlains and keepers for the custody of them, of the chiefest, & most honourable persons of Milan. With the help whereof, and with that moreover which the City itself adjoined thereto, changing the title of the Temple (which was first of juno, & after of the Blessed Virgin Mary) in honour and invocation of the Saint, was built in the same place, one of the magnificent and sumptuous Churches of Christendom. Lisbon itself being the native Country of the Saint, concurred in a manner with the devotions of the Paduans, in making by command of the King, of one part of the House, where he was borne, a fair little Church as we said, and of the other a Hall, where the Ancients with the Senate, unto this present day, are wont to assemble to deal about matters of the Common wealth.  
But above all, Pope Gregory the IX. himself, who before in Rome had with so choice an Elegy commended the doctrine of the servant of God, concurred to the exalting of his glorious memory. So as scarcely had a month passed over from the death, or to say better, from the nativity of S. Antony, but causing a most exact inquisition to be made of his life, and miracles, with the high approbation of all the Cardinals, and Prelates of the holy Church, he canonised him solemnly, and enroled him among those spirits, who arrived in the eternal country, do securely enjoy the beatifical vision of God, there making intercession for others, who being on the way, are yet doubtful continually of their progress and term. Through which judgement and approbation of the Sea Apostolic, was inflamed in all Christendom, a new desire to accumulate honours upon the sacred depositum, & a lively saith in presenting supplications to that glorious soul: the Paduans yet in this part showing themselves most remarkable of all; who being constant in their ancient piety, follow in celebrating every year the day of the deposition of the Saint, with most exquisite pomps, psalms, panygeriques', & other triumphs, truly belonging to the immortal merits of the noble Confessor of Christ, and particular protection he affords that famous City: whence he renouncing in a manner his proper Country, hath been pleased to accept, the perpetual sweet Surname of Milan.   
FINIS.   

S. THOMAS OF AQVINE.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

THe 
* An all●… to the Rose called in Hebrew, Love's ●…haddow. Cant. 〈◊〉.  Tree that bears the dainty Cyprian flower,  
Unless oft pruned by skilful workman's art,  
Grows wild & fruitless: Love doth lose his power  
And vigorous force, unless our Souls do dart,  
And force it oft, with often acts on high;  
Or feeble soon it grows, and soon doth dye.   

The smiling leaves each other seem to kiss:  
Give heaven thy Love; Love shall from thence descend,  
Cropped, bruised, distilled more sweet by far it is:  
Troubles make ours more grateful in the end,  
And oppositions nobly borne away,  
Crown our afflictions with a nobler Bay.   

Opposed by Friends their force I overbore;  
My wish at last obtaining to enjoy,  
Heaven's Love I found in me augmented more,  
While more to gain it, I my Love employ:  
By painful acts this Passion I dilate,  
And keep my soul by weakness in her state.    

THE LIFE OF S. THOMAS OF AQVINE.  Written by the Reverend Father's Preachers. 

Of the Parents, and education of S. Thomas: with the signs of his futnre greatness. Chap. I.  
SAINT THOMAS Doctor, for the excellency of his learning, surnamed the Angelical, was borne in the City of Aquinas, in the year of our Lord, 1224. His Father was Landolphus Count of the said City of Aquinas: his Mother Theodora, daughter of the Count of Thean, being both of a noble and illustrious house. The birth not only of the Saint, but also his Religion was foretold by a venerable Hermit, who lived in those Countries, called Bonus; who visiting Theodora near her childbirth, saluted her, saying: Be joyful Lady, for you shall shortly have a son, who for his singular qualities shall be renowned through the world, and shall take the habit you see here depainted: It was even the habit of S. Dominicke, the which, at the foot of the Mother of God, in a little image, he wore for devotion hanging about his neck. Theodora answered: Gods will be done. After which, the child being borne into the world, and called in sacred Baptism by the name of Thomas, soon gave very manifest signs of the learning and sanctity which in time were to shine in him. Because on a day while the Nurse was making him a bath, he snatching up of his own accord a piece of paper from the ground, held it fast in the hand, and the Nurse going about to take it away, he began to cry, and to be so troubled at it, as for a last remedy she was feign to wash him, with the same in his hand.  
Wherefore the mother being advertised, to clear and satisfy herself the better of the matter, opened his hand by force, and taking away the paper from him, they found there written the salutation of the Archangel Gabriel to the Virgin Mary, and that with so much more wonder of theirs, and of all the standers by, as they could less conjecture, how such a writing could come into his hands. The little Child in the mean time, with signs never ceased to reach after it, and to cry and sob for the same, until to quiet him they were forced to yield it him again: and he not to have it taken away any more, putting it in his mouth, on a sudden swallowed it up. This same, as we say, was held of the wise, and of men of good understanding, for a great and certain presage of celestial knowledge, and of the rare virtues, which in progress of time were to ripen in Thomas: it being not likely that a child in the swath-bands, without divine operation could be so enamoured with the words, which were the beginning and fountain of all the mysteries of the new law, and of Christian piety.  
Nor this sign only of future fruits, was seen in that noble bud, but as often as a book, or aught else but like to a book, was presented to his sight, with childish endeavour he would reach after it, and take it in his hand, turning it up and down, and looking on it without end; so as to comfort him, when need was, and to still him and dry his tears, there was no more efficacious way, then to put a paper or book into his hands, to play withal. A midst such hopes, being now arrived to five years old, that he might be the better conserved in purity and virtuous manners, he was according to the laudable customs of those times given to the venerable Monks of Monte Cassino, to be trained up: under whose care were likewise many children of Lords and Princes beside. Not had the Master any difficulty at all, to direct this happy plant unto immortal and divine things; since the child of his own accord, showing himself to be aliened from base thoughts, and from all curiosity whatsoever, did even tire him with high and profound questions, whereof one was, to demand often, what God was? Besides that, keeping himself from company of the less modest & devout, he would voluntarily recollect himself, with the wiser & more prudent sort, and more addicted to spirit: yea it is affirmed for certain, that even at that time, he would spend two hours of the day, in sundry devotions, and yet not fail to be at school, or to do whatsoever the Master appointed him beside. In brief, outstripping his years by many degrees, with his judgement he became a pattern of indust●…y, of obedience, and of all goodness.  
Whereupon the Ab●…ot of Monte Cassino, for fear least Count Landolph & Theodora, should transfer him from the arts of peace, to those of war, as they had already done with the other two elder sons of theirs, very instantly persuaded them, that they would not smother such a wit in the tumultuous exercises, & occupations of chivalry, and deprive the world, and the Church of so great a help, as such beginnings without doubt seemed to promise them. Great was the authority of the Abbot with all men, nor less efficacious were the reasons alleged by him. Thomas his age (which as yet not passed ten years) afforded a large field for great designs. The neighbour City of Naples, being the ancient and gracious receptable (as Strabo testifyes) of sublimer wits, and 〈◊〉 the liberal arts, being in love with so great a Student, seemed as it were, ambitiously to stretch forth the arms, to invite and entertain him.  
All these occasions, through divine disposition concurred together, to maintain Thomas so studious of speculation and learning: so as being conveyed from the Country to the Metropolis, & from grammar to the graver studies, under famous Doctors, he studied the Mathematics, Logic, and Philosophy, with such profit as in short time, his name began to resound through the whole University, extolling with the lustre of his Blood, and splendour of his parents, the singular qualities and rare ornaments of his person. At which glory afforded him, was yet the wise and chaste youth not puffed up a whit, but rather endeavoured he with all force, to stand firm in the knowledge and mean esteem of himself, and amidst what varieties so ever of human accidents, to hold his intention fixed and centred in God only: and by how much more knowledge he got of the Creator by the means of creatures, and from Time learned Eternity, & from transitory things the stable and eternal, so much greater desire was enkindled in him, to sequester himself from the vulgar, and with a generous contempt of the world, of purpose to attend to the contemplation of the first cause, & to cultivate wholly that part of himself, which he knew to be more worthy, and more like unto God. Such was the end & scope of the good youth, but in the election of the mean, he could not yet resolve, but remained in the same perplexity, until a clear day was added to the uncertain light of the passed inspirations, through the occasions we shall presently declare.   

How S. Thomas enters into the Family of the Dominicans; and how he bears himselues therein. Chap. 2.  
THe sacred Order of the Friar's Preachers, now flourished in those days, that was founded by the glorious Father S. Dominicke, and there were, even at that time also, as ever after have been, many men of excellent learning and singular virtue amongst them. Now S. Thomas having friendship with one of these, namely with john of S. julian, began ingenuously to confer with him of his studies and labours. Whereupon being often present at his disputes, & discourses, and of others of the same Family, he came by little and little to affectionate himself to their Institu●…e, while it seemed to him, he could no ways better employ the talents he had from God, then in the company of men wholly given to the extirpation of Heresies, and defence, and exaltation of the Catholic Faith. But perhaps the better to examine his spirit, or not to trust to much too himself, he differred (as the use is) his resolution yet longer. When john easily perceiving what the noble youth revolved in mind, he determined to spur him on, & with good opportunity said to him one day: It seems to me Thomas, when I cast mine eyes upon thee, and thy labours, and travails, thou aspirest to no vain, or transitory rewards: but if thou wilt attain thy purpose, Know assuredly my Son, that perfect wisdom and true felicity, is not got amidst the distractions, intrications, & labyrinths of the world. The recollection of the soul, and the repose and solitude, which are found in Religious, is the next disposition to apprehend the truth with, and to receive continually new rays and influences from heaven. This way, as you well know, have the greatest lights of Christendom held; who sequestering themselves from busynesses and po●…rbātions, & cares, have attended to Philosophise in good earnest, nor have regarded any more the people's ta●…ngs, than the bawling of so many Curs. Wherefore do thou also with like examples not fail to disentangle thyself. This habit here now expects thee a good while, and if thou resolvest but to accept the same, my mind gives me, nor am I a whit deceived, that by thy means our Lord will work some notable exploit.  
Such was the first assault and battery which john gave him, and not in vain. Since that finding now at first the walls to be shaken with this discourse, he proceeded on to level them with the earth, and to take all obstacles quite away: and S. Thomas easily convinced, gave up the hold, saying: Father, I would not have you think me to be so cold, and so poor a lover of the chiefest good, as that the people's talk, or any other respect whatsoever, should put me off, from following it with all my forces. Your exhortation, hath not found me alienated a whit, from such manner of designs, since now already I have thought with myself long since, to retire me. And now only to resolve of the place, I had need of some loving direction, and prudent counsel. To which office of charity, since it hath pleased our Lord to make use of your person, assure yourself I receive your words, as come from the Holy Ghost. Whence I pray, let there be no delay made: Do you deal with the Superiors, for I will not depart hence, till the business be concluded. john could have wished for no better news. Soon shall you be satisfied, replied he then; and going in haste to the Prior, without any difficulty, but rather with a great deal of joy of the whole Convent, he brought the business begun, to a very good pass; and Thomas was put into the habit, with the due ceremonies, being then of seventeen years of age.  
Now seeing himself, to be thus shut up in the Monastery, & esteeming himself to be sufficiently fenced against the clamours of his friends, and City: considering the state he had entered into, he began to frame his life, according to the obligement of his vocation; holding it a great scorn if after the leaving of such hopes in the world, he should not so carry himself in Religion, as every one should not rest satisfied of the course he had undertaken. Then partly through the internal motives, which he felt in his breast, partly the exterior examples & advices of the Fathers with whom he lived, he went on more encouraged every day, not to forflow any thing, that might any ways promote him to the top of perfection, which he had proposed to himself. And howbeit in each virtue through divine grace, and with the continual use of prayer, he laboured to become excellent, yet with particular application he endeavoured to go forward in holy humility, as well for acknowledging it to be the Mother of all good, as also in seeing an extraordinary necessity imposed upon him, to show forth himself more meek and humble to all, by how much the ornaments and habilities he had received from God, were more apt to move envy, and to make him more haughty and proud. And forasmuch as he well knew, there was no more direct, and speedy way for the aforesaid virtue, than the perpetual subjection and mortification of the proper will & judgement, he gave himself to observe obedience above all things: and even from the first beginning so ordered he, & composed the mind, as that neither in words nor deeds, would he once digress from the Superiors dictamen, nor from the orders, and rules of his Religion: and therefore he attended to read them, as he might every moment without difficulty be putting them in practice. Besides which, knowing how important sobriety and abstinence were to restrain passions, and to conserve the understanding clear, and quicksighted, he determined to give no place to superfluous nourishment & sleep; whence, either the flesh might kick through too much pampering, or the mind be overcast with fumes and vapours. Finally, he ever abhorred all idleness, not suffering any hour unfruitfully to pass away, and leaving withal, as little place as might be to the temptations, and subtilityes of the ancient Enemy.   

Theodora the Mother hears of S. Thomas his entry into Religion; & labour●… to draw him from it, by all means possible. Chap. 3.  
IN the mean time Count Landolph died, after he had suffered many troubles and losses, for defence of the Sea Apostolic, by Frederick the Emperor: who being now with his army in Tuscany, understanding of the death of the Count, sent for his two eldest sons, the one called Arnold, the other by the name of his Father, Landolph; and under the show of honourable service in war, kept them for hostages, that in defending the cause, and part of the Pope, they might not follow their Father's steps. The widow Theodor●… being now in these terms in the City of Aquinas, had news of the election of life, which her son Thomas had made in Naples; and remembering withal the prophecy of the good Hermit, she endeavoured to satisfy herself, with what the divine providence had ordained: yea she began to render thanks to God for it, as became a Christian, and virtuous woman; but was inflamed notwithstanding with such a burning desire, to behold and embrace her desired son, as without delay she travailed to Naples, with the mind (as the writers say) to examine the counsels of the young man, and that if she found them to be reasonable, and well grounded, to encourage him to persever in the divine service, rather than to alienate or divert him any manner of ways.  
Nevertheless, the Dominican Fathers, not to expose so new and worthy a subject to the hazard of his vocation, understanding of the Countess coming, made haste to send him to Rome; from thence to pass unto Paris. When Theodora had notice thereof, it cannot easily be expressed what anger and disdain she conceived for it, and laying all other thoughts aside, she posted to Rome; and not finding her dear pledge there neither, she presently writeth to her sons in the Camp, to send forth as soon as may be, to waylay the Roman passage, and apprehending their Brother on his way to France in a Friar's habit, by any means to send him to her. This message to those Soldiers (who as yet had heard nothing of the news of S. Thomas) was both sudden, and ungrateful to them. They being no less inflamed with choler than the Mother was, with the Emperor's consent, they went scouring the Country with a good band, until by divine permission, they found the Pilgrim, through weariness of the journey sat down with four others, at a clear fountain somewhat near the Bourge of Aquapendente, and running furiously upon him, first they tried to pull away his habit, by force; but that not becoming them to do, they took him lastly, and sent him bound to his Mother: who receiving him with sighs and sobs, caused him to be carried for the present to Rocca secca (a place that was seated, on the top of a hill near to Aquinas) to see if hereafter, with more leisure, she might draw him to her designs.  
This boldness of Theodora, and of her elder Sons, with reason displeased the Pope, when he heard the same from the Fathers of S. Dominicke, and would surely have proceeded against them with censures & excommunications, if the said Religious for avoiding scandal, and to show themselves rather to be friends of peace, had not pacified the matter, in leaving all to the divine justice. But Theodora yet not contented with what she had done, being returned to her country, begins afresh to lay a cruel assault against S. Thomas, saying among other things, that which follows: When thy Father of happy memory, and I thy unfortunate Mother first sent thee to Monte Cassino, and afterwards to study at Naples, we had verily thought, that the conversation of such, even so held in esteem for sanctity and learning, as the Fathers of S. Benet were, and the others of S. Dominicke, would have bred and nourished in thee nothing but piety and reverence due to a Mother, at least humanity and discretion, to be showed of right to every one: but now with these deportements of thine, thou makest me doubt that these new Orders instead of meekness and civility do but teach men to put on the habit of fierceness & cruelty: yet when I am present at their preachings, I do hear them commend both with reasons, and with authority of sacred Scriptures, the observance, and honour due unto Father and Mother, and the care which every one ought to have of their domestics. If these modern Divines, to purchase in public an opinion of sanctity, and in secret to attend to their private interests, do but celebrate Mercy in the Pulpit, and in their Cell approve inhuman, rigours, and of harsh manners, and if so it be with them; then surely it is to be thought a goodly sanctity to lie so in the Pulpit, to deceive the Auditors, & with trim and colourable speeches of piety to inveigle and entice the unwary youth, to make them afterwards in Cloisters, to become very savage and brutish, arming them, and setting them on against their own Mothers, sometimes more just and timourous of God, then even the Preachers themselves.  
And likewise if it be true, as I have always understood, that to have respect to Parents, both by divine Law and natural instinct, be straightly imposed on every man; what excuse canst thou seem to allege, my Son, for not casting thine eyes hitherto, on so great calamities, as now have partly happened to me, and partly also, are likely to arrive anew, and even hang over my head? Tell me? Where is thy Father, who hath left me a Widow, surcharged so with years, amidst so grievous storms & adversities? Where are thy Brothers, who being accused for being too favourable, and followers of the Pope, are violently detained by Cesar? Yet so great loss, and miseries might in some manner be suffered by me, if there were but any hope yet left us of better. But these differences which reign so between the Emperor and the Pope, and the sinister conceit, wherein we are with the most potent and stronger part; alas, how I fear it will redound at last, to an utter ruin of our house, and our whole City. One comfort only remained unto me, in thy person, while thy wisdom and rare parts seemed to promise me, they would shortly raise thee to so high an estate and dignity, as thou only might'st suffice to remedy all these losses and perils. But most unhappy we, that even we applied thee to study and devotion, while now thou art become an idle spectator only of the calamities, and troubles of thy disconsolate Mother, Brothers, Parents and Friends, and lastly of the flames and ashes of all the afflicted country. To which I see well thou art likely to give us some goodly succour surely, with those horrid garments I see upon thee, and with thy flying so, into the dens of France, there to rejoice thee, and to laugh at our death and Exequys.   

The Answer of S. Thomas to his Lady Mother. Chap. 4.  
THese words Theodora accompanied with weeping, and anger withal, but yet not entering into menaces, hoping that her Son being moved to pity would be able to make no more resistance against her. But he being resolute and firm as a tower, did seek indeed to comfort her, but as far as duty would and no further, and gave her account of his doings in the manner following. If so many ruins as you say Madam, are like to befall our house, neither you nor I can tell which way to remedy them, since for the future it rests in the hands, and will of God. Nor to me appears, we are to expect so much evil from the divine Goodness: & if in very deed our sins, and those of our Country seem to merit the same, what better means can I take, to pacify the Heavenly wrath, then to despoil me of myself, and to offer me up as a full and perfect Holocaust to his Eternal Majesty? If I should have remained with you in the world, or now return to it a new, what should I do but increase with my presence your misfortunes, laments, & woes? And is it possible that our City should be reduced into so i'll terms, as that the only safety thereof, should be ●…ounded in a poor youth, of little knowledge and of no experience at all? And yet when necessity shall require it, I shall be ready to succour it with my life and blood.  
But where are the flames? where the fires you exaggerate so much? For my part I do see none present, nor do I know whence they are like to come. And if indeed (as I said) they were to be feared so, for our own sins; it rests not in my power but in Gods only, to exempt us from them. And when you would rely on human succours, have you not other Sons, as more ancient in years, so of much more prudence and worth than I? Are they not continually with the person of the Emperor? Who, supposing he have some suspicion of our blood, yet will it be no hard matter, for them with their service and loyalty (which is wont to soften & relent even Bears and Lions) to pacify him so, that his ill conceit may turn to a good opinion again, and his hatred be converted into grace and protection. Nor would I have you say here, Madam, that I am quite deprived of affection and of common sense, and that from the Servants of God I have learned to be in human & savage: these are but fables merely. I contemn not your sighs, I take no pleasure (as you please to say) in your tribulations and afflictions. God calls me another way, him must I needs obey rather than men: and you consider not the great danger, the while, you put me into, through your so obstinately opposing his holy will. And since you term me hard and savage, for sequestering myself from the snares of the world, what manner of love shall I call yours? how pious, how benign, how motherly, so to pull me from the midst of the haven of tranquillity, to expose me to the raging winds and furious tempests of the world? But in sum, you deceive yourself Madam, if you think with your artificiousnes to draw a soul into baseness and mire, that having through the grace of God already tasted some fruit of the spirit and true virtues, hath now at last in scorn and loathing what pleasures soever the sense and flesh can promise. And well may you with violence retain this body of mine with you, and make it consume in prison: but that ever the mind should be aliened from Religion, and should lay aside this poor habit, and courser garments, while I breathe you shall never obtain the same.   

The persuasions used by S. Thomas his sisters. His answer to them, and what followed thereof. Chap. 5.  
With this so free discourse of S. Thomas, the Mother now satisfied, that by way of persuasions, or prayers, she should profit but little; so as being much exasperated thera●…, with an angry countenance she betakes herself to protestations & threats: but finding him continually more constant and impregnable, very sad and heavy she parts from him, leaving him still shut up in the Rock with a good guard. A little after to ●…ee if the enterprise would succeed better with others, she command two daughters of hers of sharp wits, and of excellent speech to go unto him, and to try by all means to bow that obdurate hart. Nor stayed they a whit (as the human Nature is more prompt to the execution of evil then good) to make trial with all industry that might be. Apparelled then very sumptuously, and with the most gorgeous ornaments they had, they went both of purpose to see him, showing themselves with amorous looks, and premeditated words, to marvel much, how he could once let such a folly enter into his head, and by whom he had been so deceived, and induced, as to forget his greatness so much, and the splendour of his so illustrious and ancient a Family, of so many and so famous Predecessors of his. He should consider a little, if the habits and habitation●… of the mean, base, and obscure people, become persons of so noble blood: if it were sufferable, that a young man elected by God, for high enterprises and affairs, to govern states, to rule vassals, with so much dishonour of him, and his friends and parents, should go hide and bury himself in cloisters. And therefore by all means, he should change his mind, and turn the same, to take to himself some noble and beautiful Spouse, to live (as men of judgement do) according to decorum, and to procure by all means, the greatness & glory of the house of Aquinas, for these were achievements worthy of him.  
At which suggestions of theirs S. Thomas fetching a deep sigh: Cease, answered he, from such vanities, for you are not to deal here with a Reed, to be shaken with every wind, but with a Religious man and servant of Christ. The noble blood you so much vaunt of, if not accompanied with solid virtues and divine grace, is no more than a foolish fantasy? And where the goodness & friendship of God is found, what need is there of nobility of birth? As for the exterior habit, I have a great deal more occasion to see you, or rather to bewail you, to behold you so brave and gallant as you be. And know you no●… how this acquaint workmanship of yours, springs but from the devil▪ & serves for nothing else, but to put the honesty of body and soul in hazard? And much better is it, under a poor, and course mantle, to cover a can did and pure spirit, then with superfluous ornaments of the body to show a mind not so Christian or modest as it ought? And it appears, Sisters, you regard not so much the eyes of Christ, as those of men. And this perhaps were a less evil, if together with humane arts here, were not mingled also the diabolical. You see not the spots which by this manner, you put upon the soul, & think belike, you wretches as you are, with your silks, gold, and jewels, to deceive the ●…ight of the most holy Trinity, and of all the heavenly Court. And what suppose you at last to derive from terrene love, but a perpetual succession of sorrows and troubles?  
Look upon our Mother, in what torments she is now, & how unhappy a life she confesseth she leads. Let her go on, forsooth, gathering the sweet fruits of the world, and do you follow her likewise if you will, having still before your eyes the continual punishments she hath, and the infinite dolours she feels. These are the gains your worldly industryes procure you. To this finally, do those dress of the body point; to those proud thoughts of vain glory▪ of vain nobility, of vain honour. I would to God, he would so open your eyes a little, as that transcending the heavens and stars, they might penetrate into the inmost bowers of the blessed spirits, where you should behold, very lively tragedies of your perdition, and folly, most perfectly represented. And if in that fortunate number, were some of our Ancestors to be found, whose ●…ame you seem to extol so much, whence think you▪ would they receive a more grateful and sweet spectacle, either of me, that labour withal my forces to imitate them, and who therefore treading under foot all mortal care, and contemning all human reputation, & g●…t with this habit to be able more freely to follow their steps; the of you, who forgetting their examples, do spend the time in chats, & attend to flesh, without any reckoning of the soul, and do seem to give yourselves to nothing else, then to kindle yourselves an everlasting fire?  
With this discourse accompanied with truth & spirit, S. Thomas did so mortify the boldness of his Sisters, as for shame they held their peace. And the one of them being touched with partic●…er feeling, afterwards continued a good life, and holy conversation, until such time as moved by God, imitating her Brother she made a vow of Religion, and being reclused in a monastery of the Nuns of S. Benet of Capua, laudably persevered therein unto her death. But S. Thomas in the mean time making a virtue of necessity, & a Cell of his prison, spent the time in prayer and study as he was wont, esteeming it to be no small happiness to him in those persecutions, to see occasions cut off, of wandering abroad, here and there, & the distractions, which a more free, and common life would bring with them.   

How S. Thomas is provoked by his Brothers again; then tempted by a woman; and lastly escapes out of prison. Chap. 6.  
S. Thomas continued not long thus quiet and secure, because Frederick the Emperor, being passed with his army into Puglia; the two Brothers, of whom we have above made mention, upon that occasion came to Rocca secca, renewing their ancient purpose, of diverting S. Thomas, by all means possible, from his way begun: and since that neither with terrors, nor flatteryes they could prevail with him, being inflamed with rage, they doubted not furiously to tear off the sacred weed from his back, and leaving him so half naked in the place, they departed thence full of wrath and indignation. Then the disciple of Christ, taking compassion of their youthful error, & praying most earnestly for those souls, endeavoured to piece up again the torn habit, the best he could with his own hands, and thanking God for the victory obtained, now returned again to his wont occupations; when besides all expectation, he was surprised with a new assault, more fierce than ever; a wanton woman, set on by the Brothers, and brought in of purpose to tempt him: But he, as one that knew well the danger of such manner of battles, snatching suddenly a brand out of the fire, chased away that monster from his chamber, and shutting fast the door, at the same instant drew a Cross on the wall with the same stick, before which having prostrated himself, most humbly besought he our Lord, that if by chance that hellish fight had left in his imagination any manner of blot whatsoever, he would vouchsafe of his infinite mercy to take it away quite, and to grant him beside so much help and favour, as he might be able very perfectly to preserve his chastity to his death, which in Religion he had devoutly promised.  
The divine ears were not deaf, unto so just & servant prayers. The Champion of Christ thereupon being grown very weary, fell into a short sleep: when two Angels from heaven appeared to him, telling him his prayers were heard, & for a testimony thereof, they guirded this loins with a belt, so strongly, as that through pain thereof crying out aloud, it made his keepers to enter, into him, to whom notwithstanding he would not discover what had happened, as neither revealed he it afterwards to any others, until the article of his death, when it seemed to him, he was then obliged in conscience not to bury so clear an act of the divine goodness in perpetual oblivion. But after that accident, if some great necessity for the glory of God or behoof of the neighbours required it not, he kept himself wholly from all conversation with women, as from basilisks, and serpents.  
For two whole years he had now been shut up in that prison; at the end whereof Theodora, being now grown weary, & partly also being gauled with touches of her conscience, calling for some of the Father's Preachers unto her, she secretly gave order to them to come at a certain hour of the night, unto the foot of the wall against the chamber of S. Thomas, and that he descending by a cord from the window, or a false ladder, they might carry him away in the name of God. The occasion of this secrecy was, as well the fear of offending her other Sons, if without their consents he had been openly let go, as the respect of her own reputation, which seemed to be in danger, if after so many contentions, and so much ado, her sage practices should manifestly be vanquished at last, by the constancy and reasons of a youth only. For this enterprise john of S. julian was chosen, whom we mentioned above, being the dear father & Master of S. Thomas, & who heretofore truly was wont by the tacit consent of Theodora to visit him in prison. By this man, and other his companions being led away to Naples, not without the common jubiley of all, from thence they sent him to Rome, by order of Superiors, and from Rome in company of the General of the Dominicans he went to Paris; and from thence again within few months, being sent to Colen, he began with great contentment, to hear Albertus Magnus, holding it to be no small happiness to him to have met with so famous and excellent a Master, and with so clear a glass of all religious virtues.   

S. Thomas is graduated, and made Master of the Chair: and how he caries himself therein. Chap. 7.  
BY occasion of such a Doctor, S. Thomas gave himself to heap up new treasures of wisdom, and to attend the better to so noble a purchase. He imposed on himself in the mean time, a Pythagorean silence, in so much as he was come into contempt for the same with the rest of his fellows in the school, & was brought into such a conceit amongst them of a slow and gross capacity, as by a surname they called him the dumb Ox. But the divine Provicence suffered not so rare a light of wit, should be hidden long. It came into the mind, to some of the more curious, with diverse demands to tempt the unknown learning of the youth, & to break in some sort that pertinacious silence of his. There was explicated at that time in Schools the book of S. Denys Areopagita, de Divinis nominibus, a very high matter, and full of deep mysteries. Upon the lessons S. Thomas then being cunningly examined by more than one he gave such account thereof beyond all expectation, both by his pen, and by word of mouth, that Albertus would needs oppose, and prove him also; ordaining in the first disputations, he should be Respondent in very difficult questions.  
This did S. Thomas refuse at first, of his innated modesty. But Albertus continually making more instance, he thought good, to resist no longer: and recommending himself first very humbly to our Lord God as he was wont, he answered after, with such acumen of wit, and with so much dexterity withal, as that Albertus being full of astonishment exclaimed at last: Thomas, thou seemest to me rather a Moderator, than a mere Respondent. And thereupon turning to the Auditory. My Masters (said he) you call him a dumb Ox, but certainly he shall one day give forth such lowings, as shall be heard throughout the whole world. With his so clear a testimony made so publicly of him, it was not possible for him any more, to remain either retired or silent; but yet he always conserved himself far from any arrogancy at all: whence he came every day to be so much the more admirable to all, and was by universal consent held no less than a Saint. Thus being in Colen for some time, he was by the instance of Albertus Magnus, recalled to Paris by the General of the order, there to take the degree of Bachelor upon him. To which degree being promoted against his will, they applied him presently to expound the Master of Sentences; wherein (having kept for this intention very strict vigils, and fasts, and made his prayer) he came off with it in such manner, as that the rector of the Studies, determined very soon to make him a Master in Theology, with all the solemnity that might be.  
S. Thomas understanding thereof, and esteeming himself very far unworthy of that name, began afresh to find excuses, and to allege particularly his age, which as yet had not finished the thirtieth year, yet for all that he was fain to obey. And in such extremity of his, recurring (according to custom) to the arms of prayer, he begins to crave the succour of the Almighty God; until such time as being once perplexed, among other things, about the Theme he should take in that public act, a venerable old man appeared to him in sleep, and said to him: What ailest thou Thomas, that thou weepest, and so afflictest thyself in this manner? He answered, they enforce me to take the name & office of Master upon me, whereto I know myself, to be insufficient: and being among other things at the beginning to make a discourse, I know not what Theme to take. Then, replied the old man: Be of good cheer my Son: It is the will of God that thou accept the degree. For Theme thou shalt take that verse of the Psalm, Rigans montes de superioribus suis, & de fructu operum tuorum satiabitur terra. That said, the old man vanished, and S. Thomas yielded many thanks to God, for being so benignly comforted by his immense goodness. Being now made Master, he went forward in explicating the sacred Theology with great applause, having always an eye to the profit, & capacity of the scholars, rather than to his own reputation or proper gust. In his manner of interpreting he had an easy, clear, and distinct method. He fled new opinions, and the unusualf manner of phrases and words. In disputes, he kept himself from moderate contentions, and extranagant acts or clamours, maturely yielding to others obstinacyes or pertinacityes, and choosing rather for the glory of God, and edification of the Neighbour, to appear sometimes less learned, then little modest. Wheresoever he read, but especially in Paris, and in Rome, he had alwayer his School very flourishing, both for number and quality of hearers, Doctors, Bishops, Cardinals: and it is a notable thing, that with all the credit and authority he had gotten, yet never slacked he his dilgence, being otherwise one of so great a natural wit, as he had few his equals, and of so happy a memory withal, that in a manner, as often as he had but once seen any thing, he would faithfully retain it for ever; and of such vigour of mind, as that which is recounted of some Ancients for so admirable a thing, he would yet do more in dictating, in diverse matters, unto three or four Scribes at once, & yet that rich flood of wisdom would never be diminished.   

Of S. Thomas his Speculations in studies: with his Rapts, and Ecstasies in Spirit. Chap. 8.  
IT would be too long, and a superfluous thing to make here a Catalogue of his works so many, and of so great note, wherewith he confirmed the Catholic faith, & rooted out, and oppressed many heresies, partly increased already, and partly new grown up: each state and quality of persons he would instruct with wholesome advices and precepts, and finally illustrated the sacred Thology, and brought it again to its ancient dignity, reducing and submitting all other sciences to its Empire, which through the fault of some impious Sophisters seemed heretofore to descent and rebel, from it. But as he would touch the point in every matter, so he seemed to have a special grace, in treating of the most excellent Sacrament of the Altar, and not only in Prose, but in Latin time also, according to the customs of those times; in so much as for the eminent doctrine and piety contained therein, the Catholic Church even to this day, singes no other Office, or Mass on the day of the great solemnity of Corpus Christi, then that which he composed, at the instance of Pope Vrban the IU  
And it is most certain, that in Naples, being once much elevated in mind, and present in person before a Crucisix, our Lord spoke to him in that image: Well hast thou written of me, Thomas; What reward then wouldst thou have? When he answered: surely nothing, O Lord, but thine own self. Two notable parts concurred in the glorious Doctor, which are hardly coupled together; as quickness in apprehension, and patience in speculation. Forasmuch as he not only acutely penetrated and distinguished at once, but would also dive into the deeper investigations, as that very often he would come to lose his senses. When on a time, being in such an abstraction, a coal of fire, lighting on his leg, and again the flame of the candle, which studying he held in his hand, even touching his flesh, a pretty while, he stirred not awhit, nor was moved any more thereat then a mere stone.  
That same likewise was memorable, which happened to him, at a Feast with S. Lewis King of France, at such time as he wrote that noble Sum against the Gentiles: in which matter he was then so absorbed, as that amidst the Royal dishes of the King, forgetting himself and the standers by, he suddenly cried out: The manichees are convinced; and seeming to him, that he was in his Cell, called to Friar Reginald his companion, to dictate to him as he was wont. But after awaked by the Dominican Prior who sat by him and craving pardon with some confusion, he was comforted and excused by the wise King, at whose beck one was suddenly called that might faithfully note those new conceits. Nor les●…e memorable was the excess, which he suffered towards the end of his life, remaining in the Castle of his Sister, where he was for three days abstract, as it were, from his body, and returning on the last to himself again, he confessed to the aforesaid Reginald (but under the seal of a secret, until his death) that he had notice of ●…ore things and of more excellent misteryes in that space only, then ever he had in all the labours, & watches he had endured till that tyme.  
And surely is it not to be passed over in silence, that he being adorned with so great gifts by nature, and besides that, so great a friend to labour, yet to make new profit every day in sciences, he depended so much on God, as that before his entering unto study, he would always recommend himself very ardently to the eternal wisdom, as if he had expected all success from heaven only, and by no other ways. An industry truly, very worthy to be imitated of each Student: Because that such as without having recourse to God more than so, do confide & in their proper gifts, by how much they go forward, and proceed in learning, so much are they puffed up in their souls; in such wise, as being thence blinded whence they might have had light, they stumble themselves, and draw others withal into their miserable errors and pepestiferous opinions. But the Angelical Doctor (as I said) did quite the contrary, nor was he deceived awhit of his hope: since many conclusions, being otherwise doubtful and obscure, by this only way he drew forth from the deep abyss (as they say) of truth, as we shall clearly make appear by the example following.  
The Saint explicated the oracles of Esay, and being come unto a passage, whence by human help he could no ways acquit himself; according to his use he recurred to divine, and gave himself to fast and pray for that intention, so many days (taking besides S. Peter and S. Paul for intercessors) as that those glorious Apostles at last one night appeared to him in his Cell, and there sweetly conferring with him, a pretty while, put light into him, and so quit him of all perplexity. In the mean time, Friar Reginald was in the ante-chamber as he was wont, and though he heard the voices, yet nothing understood what they said. The vision then being vanished; S. Thomas called him in to write, and dictated the whole declaration to him, so largely, and without stop, as if he had been taking it forth of another book in order. The dictates being ended; Reginald, who had heard confusedly the murmur aforesaid, did most ardently thirst, to have a distinct notice thereof, and therefore lying prostrate on the earth, besought him not to hide or conceal it from him, and that with so much affect, and with so great instance withal, as the servant of God (under the condition and seal as before) ingenuously discovered it to him.  
Besides that, this so frequent prayer anailed him much, to maintain his spirit always very cheerful and fresh, which of its nature with much speculation is wont to be arid and dry. Howbeit the holy man together with the assiduity of prayer, would use also other potent and generous remedies. Whereof the principal was, to approach to the fountain of all graces, the sacred Eucharist; whereto he was so devout, that besides his saying every day Mass, he would afterwards humbly serve another. And as in preparing himself to that banquet of the Angels, he would add particular study and attention; so after in rendering of thanks, he would suddenly be ●…pt into ex●…sies, and being liquefyed in celestial sweetnesses, ere he were once aware thereof, would be wholly bathed in tears. He was exceeding sollicious moreover, in procuring the protection and favour of the Saints, and especially of the glorious Virgin and Martyr Ag●…s, whose relics he had always hanging at his breast with so much faith, as that one day touching Friar Reginald therewith being dangerously sick, he recovered him strait. He was wont also at times to help himself, with the reading affectuous & moral books, especially the Collations of Cassian; wherein he knew likewise the Patriarch S. Dominicke to be exceedingly versed, and to have gathered thence incomparable helps for discretion of spirits, and solid virtues.  
By which means, in so great an abundance of heavenly gifts, how he kept himself humble, and magnanimous both, through his whole life (being qualities not so disjoined from themselves, a●… some think, but dear companions rather, and individual Sisters) may be easily gathered, by the acts that immediately follow.   

Some notable Acts of Humility of S. Thomas, with the like; and particularly his devotion for the souls in Purgatory. Chap. 9  
SAint Thamas now ripe for glory and age, by this time passed to the Cloisters of Bologna, addicting himself to most deep consisiderations: when a certain Friar, new come from foreign parts, & having leave of the Prior, to go forth into the City for some business with the first Companion he could meet with, by chance lighted on S. Thomas, not knowing him by sight, and willed him in behalf of the Superior, to go a long with him: at which voice, the Imitator of Christ, as sent from an Oracle, not only obeyed without delay, but also being after not able to go so fast as the other, through a lame leg which he had, with incredible patience he suffered some rebukes for the same; until such time as being advised by Seculars of the person whom he entreated so ill, being wholly confounded thereat, and excusing himself of his ignorance, very humbly craved pardon of him for it. Whereupon S. Thomas being demanded of the same Gentlemen, wherefore he had so abased himself, he made answer with a grave countenance: Religion (forsooth) consists in Obedience, and obedience for one man to submit himself to another for God, since God himself for our sake would subject himself too Man.  
From another thing, we may likewise gather, the love which the Saint had of his own proper subjection; Which is, that he not only, in his own Order, abstained always from Prelacy and government, but even likewise abroad, being called by Pope Clement the IV. to the archbishopric of Naples, he so refused the same, as he supplicated withal, and as much as he durst took hold of the chief Bishop, beseeching him not to offer him any dignities. What shall we say then of the regard and caution he had, not to attribute any good to himself? In so much as to the honour of Christ, and for the help of souls, upon good occasion he confessed sincerely, being then of good years, amidst so much celebrity and humane praises, so many Magistral Chairs, so many Preaching, lessons, disputes and so many public Acts maintained, and so great variety of compositions and labours, he had never felt in his soul the least gust, or complacence of Vainglory.  
From this so chaste a love and fear of God, and from this care which the Servant of Christ had of himself, sprung the fruit which he wrought with others; and from his conversation in Heaven, followed his dealing securely with men. In his preachings (as we have said also of his Lessons) he attended more unto profit, than pomp; he attempered himself to the reach of the people, and above all, conformed his life with his words. Whence he came to be heard with so great concourse, veneration, and silence, as he had been an Angel descended from Paradise. And sometimes our Lord God would concur with evident miracles, as it happened once on an Easter day in the City of Rome at S. Peter's, where he descending from the Pulpit, a certain woman, now troubled and afflicted a long time with an incurable flux of blood, approached unto him in a press of people, and touching him by the hem of his Cloak with much faith, she was immediately made sound, and as strong as ever.  
His private discourses also were of marvelous efficaay, wherein he studied always to insert upon good occasions, some thing of edification, and if perhaps in any grave matter, it were needful to persuade, or to examine out the truth of any thing with reasons, there was hardly found any that were able to make resistance against him, as may easily appear by the action following. Being once present at the feast of the Nativity, for certain occurrences, with the Cardinal Riccardo, at Molara, a place somewhat near to Rome, there met also by good hap two jews, by how much richer in substance and more learned in the ancient Law, so much the more were they addicted to flesh, and more obstinate in their perfidiousness. Having taken in hand then to treat with those two souls at the instance of the Cardinal, after an encounter had, with a long dispute, he convinced them in such sort, that having both by accord taken the space of a night to think upon it (while he in the mean time was praying for them) at last they yielded, and the infant jesus now corporally borne in a vile manner, was spiritually borne anew in their hearts. So as repenting themselves of their life past, and coming forth of darkness into a clear light, they were both baptised with the common joy and gladness of all.  
This singular Man had a notable zeal of the salvation of all; but yet notwithstanding his familiar freindshipps were restrained to few. One of his dearest and beloved was, the Seraphical S. Bonaventure; & to this purpose it is recounted, that going once to visit him, at such time as the Saint was writing the life of S. Francis, finding him in an ecstasy, and with the body elevated in the air; he stopped awhile, and turning to his companion said: Let us suffer one Saint to work for another. One quality also was seen in him, very proper for perfect men, that he being so rigid & severe to himself, was yet exceeding benign and merciful to those, that sinned out of human frailty, in taking compassion upon their defects, yea weeping also alike for them, as they were his own. And beside had a pious and officious memory of the faithful departed, so as his Sister, once being dead appeared to him in Paris, craving succour at his hands to be delivered from Purgatory. And he as well by himself as others, afforded such helps, and suffrages together, as a little after he being in Rome, she returned to him, to let him understand, that now she was quit of her pains, & for ever blessed, beholding the face of God. Upon this occasion, S. Thomas required of her some news likewise of his of two Brothers, both deceased: & she answered, that Landulph continued yet in Purgatory, but Arnold rejoiced now in heaven; and thou soon shalt be also in our company, but with a great deal more glory, for thy labours endured in the service of the holy Church.   

The death of S. Thomas, with his funerals, and what happened there upon. Chap. 10.  
AS this great Servant of God, had so much charity towards every one, so he was ordinarily esteemed and loved by as many as knew him, but especially he was grateful and acceptable, to three several holy Popes, Clement the IV. urban the IV. & Gregory the X. The first whereof, as hath been said, endeavoured in vain to make him Archbishop of Naples: the second helped himself much by him in writing things of great importance, and especially in confuting the errors of the Greeks: the third having intimated a Council at Lions in France for weighty necessities of the Catholic Church, among the chief, called for S. Thomas thither; and here with, not thinking thereof, he hastened his end, and the reward of his labours. Because being then at Naples, not well disposed for health, to obey the Pope, he put himself on the journey without delay: and being arrived at S. Severine a Castle of his Sisters, there fell sick. From thence, being yet not well recovered, sustaining the weakness of his body with the forces of the mind, against the will of his dearest friends, he went forwards, until such time as he fell into a relapse at Fossa nova, a place of the Cistercians in the Diocese of Piperno, in so much as he felt (and so told Friar Reginald in secret) that now approached his last day.  
here he was received by the Abbot, and the other Monks with the greatest Charity that might be, who the more they laboured in curing and serving him, in carrying among other things some fuel from the wood, on their own shoulders, being then the time of winter, so much more was the sick man sorry and troubled, to have them suffer so much for his sake, saying with great feeling: And who am I, that the servants of Christ, should travail so much for me? Nor would he likewise in that space be found to be idle, because at the instance of some of them, who desired some issue of his noble wit, he briefly expounded the Canticles of Solomon, foreseeing his passage out of this life, and aspiring unto the Eternal Canticles. And for that now his forces began to fail him, he devoutly required the most holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, which being brought by the Abbot, withal the Convent, though now reduced to extremes, yet he leapt from his bed, and cast himself on the ground with many tears.  
Being afterwards demanded (according to custom) if he believed indeed the true Son of God, for our salvation borne of the Virgin, dead on the Cross, and then risen again, to be contained in the sacred Host, with a clear and confident voice he said: I wholly believe it, or rather more than certainly I know, this to be JESUS CHRIST true God, and true man, the Son of the eternal Father, and of the Virgin Mother. And as I believe it with a pure hart, so do I also with sincere mouth confess the same.  
That said, very reverently he received the Viatique, and the day following he craved the extreme Unction, remaining always in his perfect judgement, so as himself did answer very punctually to every thing: and finally with hands united & lifted up to heavenwards, recommending his spirit to the Creator, he happily departed, in the morning on the seaventh day of March, in the year of our Lord 1274. which was of his vocation the 32. & the 50. of his life. At this his passage, besides the Cistertians, were present many Dominicans and Franciscans, being come at that time to visit him from sundry Monasteryes. The Bishop of Terracina, likewise was there present. But the Nephew of the Saint, running thither at the report of his danger, now finding him departed this life, and being not able to enter into the Monastery, obtained with much prayers, the sacred corpse might be exposed at the gate that he might behold the same. here arose a great and universal plaint for the loss of such a personage. Yea the writers do affirm for certain, that the beast itself which he was wont to ride on, breaking the halter by force wherewith he was tied, ran thither at the same time also, to the Beer or hearse, and there in the presence of all, falling to the earth, fell suddenly dead. Whereat the standers by being astonished did glorify God, and carrying the body into the Church of S. Thomas, with such and so great veneration they buried it, as cannot easily be xepressed, and that before the high altar. He was of complexion very corpulent, though he were so strict an observer of fasts and abstinence. He was of a very delicate flesh, sensitive, and convenient for the most excellent temperature of his organs; of stature strait and tall; of the colour of wheat; of eyes most modest; for strength robustuous, his head somewhat great, and bald in diverse parts.   

Of two notable presages of S. Thomas his death before hand. Chap. 11.  
SOme notable signs did prognosticate the death of this our Saint. Because, he lying at Naples, so indisposed as he was at first, before his departure to the Council, a most bright star was seen by two honourable persons of the house of Coppa, who were then with him, to enter in by the window, and to rest a good while upon the Saint's head. Besides this, some three days before his death, appeared a Comet over his Inn at Fossa-nova, and when he gave up the ghost the same vanished away. Moreover at the very same hour that he was in his passage, a Dominican Father of great virtue, by name Friar Paul Aquilin, in the Convent of Naples, saw in his sleep, how S. Thomas reading in the same City unto a great Auditory, S. Paul entered into the School, with a great troop of Saints in his company, and the Angelical Doctor being willing to descend from the chair, the Apostle commanded him to proceed in his lesson: and at last demanding of the same Apostle, whether he had penetrated the sense of his Epistles or no; he answered: Very well truly, as much as humane understanding in a mortal body can possibly arrive to. But I will lead thee into a place, where thou shalt understand them much better: and here with taking him by the garment he lead him out of the School. And Friar Paul began to cry out with a loud voice: Help Brothers help, because Friar Thomas is taken away. At which cries of his, many in haste running in, & requiring wherefore, he declared unto them the whole vision in order. The hour was noted, and diligent inquisition being made thereupon, it was found, that at that very instant the blessed soul departed from the body.  
Many miracles afterwards of health, and of other supernatural effects, ensued to the perpetual praise and exaltation of the Saint, which would be too long & superfluous to relate in this place. But howbeit by such events, is discovered in a manner the greatness of the merits and rewards of the man of God; yet more evident testimony thereof, gave another vision, which Friar Albert a Dominican of Brescia had afterwards, being a man very famous alike both in sanctity and learning. This man being given to the doctrine of S. Thomas, and much devoted to his divine virtues, had now a great while desired to know, what degree of glory he was to have in Heaven. With this ardent desire, being once in prayer with tears, before an Altar of the most Blessed Virgin, after many inflamed sighs and fervent prayers, there appeared at last two persons unto him, no less venerable in aspect, then for ornament and splendour admirable: the one in Pontificalibus, with a Mitre on his head, another with the habit of the Dominican Fathers, with two very rich chains about their necks, one of gold, the other of silver, and a Carbuncle on the breast, which with its rays did illumine the whole Church. The rest of the garments beside were powdered & beset with most noble Pearls, Diamonds and Rubies.  
Then he in the mitre said: Brother Albert, what lookest thou on? I am Augustine, the Doctor of the Church, sent hither to let thee understand the glory of Thomas of Aquine, who is nowheere present with me, in following the Apostolical traditions, and illustrating the Church of Christ. That same so resplendent jewel which thou seest at his breast signify a most right intention, which he hath had continually in teaching and defending the Catholic faith. Those other precious stones here and there, do show the multitude and variety of books he hath written, and put to light for the help of souls. In sum we are both equal in the essential of glory; for the rest he exceeds me in virginal purity, and I him in Pontifical Excellency: which saying they vanished away. Of this singular chastity of the holy Doctor, besides what hath been said already, there appeared very evident signs thereof in his funerals.   

Of the diverse translations made of the holy Body of S. Thoma, and where it rested at last. Chap. 12.  
A Little after the corpse of S. Thomas was interred, the Abbot of Fossa-nova with others of the Convent, fearing that such a treasure would be taken away from them, especially since Friar Reginald, by Notary, & witnesses now had consigned him as in deposito; in the midst of the night, they secretly conveyed him into the Chapel of S. Steven. But S. Thomas appeared to the Superior in sleep, threatening him much, if he carried it not back, into the place again. Whereupon being terrified, he went with some lay men unto the said Chapel of S. Steven, opened the sepulchre, from whence proceeded an odour so fragrant, as presently drew thither all the rest of the Monks, in whose presence, that chaste lodging of the holy Ghost, was found to be wholly and throughout entire, together with the garments. Being a thing somuch the more to be wondered at, as the place was more humid, and the body (as hath been said) more full and corpulent. Replenished then with all consolation and marvel atonce, they honourably conveyed him back where he was at first. And the day following having a scruple to sing the Mass of the dead for him, through divine instinct they celebrated Mass, of a Confessor not Bishop.  
This first ranslation was made 7. months after his death: he afterwards was changed again more than once, while the same fragrancy continued still as before, as well to make he sepulchre more magnificent, as also to afford others some part of the holy Relics. One of his hands was granted to his Sister, in whose Oratory remaining a while, it was carried to Salerno. The head was given to the Friar's Preachers of Pipern. It being after understood that a wicked man went about to rob and to sell away the rest, the Count of Fondi prevented it, by taking it into his own custody, & after that at the instance of his wife (who was therefore in sleep very greivously reprehended by the Saint) he consigned it to the convent of Preachers, in the same City of Fondi.  
The Monks of Fossa-nova resented the injury, and for the same having made many times complaints to the Sea Apostolic. Pope Vrban the V. at last to put an end to so great quarrels and contentions, caused it to be transported from Fondi to Thoulouse in France to the end that University (there newly founded by the Pope) might continually prosper under the shadow of such a Protector. And this last Translation, was the most noble and solemn of all, as well for that now after a full and exact information, he was canonised by Pope john the XXII. as also for the great number of miracles, which in that Translation there followed anew. The greater part of the Bishops there, and Lewis Duke of Angiou, being the Brother of the King of France, with an infinite number of people, came to meet with, and receive the sacred Pledge; by all which with great preparation and exquisite pomp, it was decently reposed at Thoulouse in the year of our Lord 1370. It hath preserved that City even to these days from many perils of body and soul.   
FINIS.   

B. ANDREW. B.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

THE very Star that's placed near the Line  
That parts us from the other Hemisphere,  
Through interposed vapours clear doth shine,  
When in our Zenith dim it doth appear:  
Blinded, we slight heavens joys, which we might gain  
As well as earth, and with an equal pain.   

I this perceived, and learned to raise my hart,  
And far above such feigned contents to soar;  
I with the World, and with 
* His Mother's dream 〈◊〉.  the Wolf did part,  
And took the Lamb, whom I contemned before:  
And borne by zealous love ascend the skies  
In fiery Car, to 
* This Saint 〈◊〉 C●…  my Elias flies.    

THE LIFE OF B. ANDREW BISHOP OF FESULA.  Written by Francis his Successor, and others. 

Of the Parents of B. Andrew: with the miraculous presage of his Birth, and first beginnings. Chap. 1.  
AMONG the noble families of the renowned City of Florence, is Corsina worthily named for one, spread as we find, in other parts of Italy. Of this blood Nicolas and Peregrina, being conjoined together with the holy band of Matrimony, as they were both timorous and fearing God, and much frequenting Churches, & the sacred offices, had a great desire to offer up to the high Creator, and the most B. Virgin, the firstborn of their Progeny, to imitate in this point also, the piety of the ancient Patriarches, so much celebrated in sacred Scriptures. Nor did any thing hinder them from fullfilling their vow then sterility, or want of fruit to present: from which being delivered through the intercession of the same Virgin they at last had a son, in Baptism called by the name of Andrew, for being borne on the feast of that glorious Apostle. But the day before his nativity, for a clear presage, as it were of things to come; it seemed to the Mother in sleep, that she was delivered of a Wolf, which turning into the Church, was by little and little transformed into a Lamb. At which apparition, though Peregrina remained in some fear, yet made she no kind of demonstration thereof, but kept it secret until the time we shall speak of anon.  
In the mean time, the faithful parents trained up the child in learning, and much more in manners, with that care, as was fit for the issue now dedicated already to the service of the Queen of Angels. But soon might be gathered in him without doubt, how prone to each vice is human kind, without the particular aid and stay of celestial grace. Scarcely was he arrived to the use of reason, when being inflamed within, by the ardours of concupiscence, and by the incentives of the false Angel, and outwardly alured by sensible objects, and lewd companies; he began, from the strait and direct way of salvation, to bend to the spacious and large way of perdition, to abhor virtue, to fly his studies, to serve the belly, and dishonest pleasures, to follow the dissolute, to give himself to pomps, to handle partly cards and dice, & partly also his sword, and arms prohibited, to move often quarrels, and to challenge now this man, and now that into the field, to waste the goods of his family, and to put himself continually into dangers both of body and soul.  
These manners of his even pierced the Parents to the hart, seeming very unfit for one, so conceived through prayers, & brought up for the service of the Mother of God. In the mean while they sought, now with allurements, and now with menaces, and again with reasons, to pull him back from the precipices he ran into, without stay, but all in vain. The fierce youth had now shaken off the yoke, he champed the bridle, he scorned the rod, & finally became every day more rebellious, and refractory than other. Yet for all this the divine Clemency, would not suffer so ill a bud of so good roots should eternally perish, but through means unexpected reform him on a sudden, in the height of his deba●…shments. Because having once among other times, answered not only with contempt and contumacy to the wholesome advices of them that loved him so dearly, but even also with injuries and outrages very impiously turning his back towards them; Peregrina remembering her ancient dream: Thou art surely (said she to him) that infamous wolf, which in vision I seemed to bring forth into the world, when thou wast borne.  
At the sound of which words, B. Andrew, as awaked through divine operation, as it were from a deep letargy, and returning to himself, stood still, and with voice and countenance altered, turning himself to Peregrina: I beseech you, sweet Mother (replied he) not to hide from me longer that monstruous prodigy, which you now intimated to me: whence how beyt on the one side I find myself terrified & astonished as stroke with a thunderbolt, yet me thinks on the other, I do feel myself to burn with so ardent desire, to know the full truth, as I shall never be at rest, until you give me a faithful and distinct notice thereof.  
Then the disconsolate Matron, being moved from the bottom of her hart, and now brought into some hope of amendment in her Son: Know thou, said she, my beloved Son, that after my espousals I lived many years without issue, but with so great desire thereof, that to obtain the same I promised and obliged, with solemn vow to the service of the divine Majesty and to his most holy Mother, the first Son that should spring from my womb. Thy Father also concurred in the same vow with me, and with the same deliberation which I did. Nor was the remedy in vain. The Conception followed, & now being near to those pangs of childbirth, I dreamt I was delivered of a Beast, which entering into the Temple in the figure of a wolf, was changed into that of a lamb. The day following waist thou brought forth into the world. What thou hitherto hast showed thyself to the world, thou know'st very well, and that surely no rational creature, but a savage & ravenous wild beast. It were now high time thou convertedst thyself, and helpedst us in good order, to repay what we owe as debtors for thee. For neither to Nicolas, nor Peregrina waist thou borne, but rather to the Virgin Mary. A wake then my Hart now, once at last, nor go thou on so blotting that victim, that should living and clean be presented to the highest. By these, & such other words, full of just disdain, and of most tender affect, through divine power, that stony breast, was mollifyed and compunct at last, who casting his eyes with horror on his actions past, became on a sudden to be a bitter accuser of himself. And finding no other remedy, then to humble himself, to crave pardon, and to procure advocates, he went the next day to the Carmelites, being a Family by an ancient Institute applied to the honour of the most Blessed Virgin. here then being prostrate before her Altar, as well for shame of his offences as fear of the punishments, with a blush and paleness interchangeably, going and coming in his countenance, without motion of his lips, and with deep sighs, he remained a good while begging of succour, and mercy at her hands.   

B. Andrew is converted from his loose life, and enters into Religion. Chap. 2.  
While B. Andrew was in that agony aforesaid, he was let see by divine power, his debts to have gone so far, & grown to be so great, as there was no way to be acquit of them, but to change himself, & to leave the world; & to deal with some creditor, so exact and rigid on the one side, who should sift out all what possible he might, without leaving a dram; and so magnanimous and courteous on the other, that for so unequal a payment, should give not only a full acquittance, but an Eternity moreover. The contrite young man was not backward awhit to these heavenly consayls. He goes in all haste to Father Hierome Migorato Provincial of the Order, and beseeches him on his knees, he would be pleased to accept him into the number of his subjects, he being most resolute to leave the world, & promptly to follow the Euangelical counsels.  
With this short manner of speech, so accorded his gestures and actions withal, as left no place of sinister suspicions to any. The holy and discreet Superior notwithstanding, regarding the qualities of so noble and delicate a subject, partly to assure himself the better of his vocation, and partly also to avoid all scandal; giving good words for that time to the suitor, sends by an express messenger to certify Nicolas Corsino, & Peregrina his wife, how their Son Andrew had made great instance for Religion, and the habit. More joyful tidings could not possibly arrive to the ears of the good and truly Christian couple. But both full of joy and iubiley alike give infinite thanks therefore to the divine goodness: after which without delay they went both togeaher unto the Convent, where the fervorous Penitent anew, was set to prayer at the same Altar as before. With this opportunity they likewise falling on their knees, being quiet, and all of one accord made the desired oblation of him, and so performed their vow. From thence the holy business being concluded with the Provincial, the Father and Mother being wholly replenished with consolation, returned home again, while the son so altered now and quite transformed with the singular content and edification of the Friars, remained in the Monastery; nor cared he awhit to change his name, while to him it seemed the name of Andrew, would be a sufficient incitement for him to love and embrace the Cross of our Lord Christ. And he converted his thoughts & applied his whole mind by all means possible to suppress the vices which infested him most, and particularly pride, and a vain esteem of himself.  
In which battle besides the actions which he did of his own accord, in submitting himself to others, and flying all show and demonstration of vanity, he was much furthered likewise by master's skilful in that Religious list. Who exercised him in those occupations point by point, which were most accommodate to abate pride, and to subdue the appetite of disordinate excellency. So as they deputed him to the vile services of the kitchen, to wash the dishes, to sweep the house, to carry away the dust, to serve & wait at the porch; which things he discharged with so great simplicity and fervour, as they were all astonished thereat, and he remained every day more confirmed, than other in his good purposes.   

How B. Andrew was tempted by a kinsman of his, to leave his vocation, but in vain. Chap. 3.  
TO come now to some particular of the soundness of his vocation; he having one day the care of the Gate, while the rest were at dinner, behold on a sudden, there arrived thither, a Gentleman a kinsman of his, with a good train with him, very rich and gallant, but exceeding subtle and practical in the world. Who being let in, when he saw the servant of God with keys in his hand, so meager in the face, and so poorly clad; discovering at once both wonder and scorn, with a voice full fraught of disdain: Is it possible (said he) this same should be that Andrew Corsino, who but even the other day flourished so among the noblest, and gallantest of our youth, of so royal aspect, of sumptuous apparel, and of so great acquaintances of all? What madness or what desperation, most dear Brother, hath brought thee into this Cloister, to lose thy best & fairest years, and to denigrate with so base a habit and abject servitude, the titles and splendour of thy family? Re-enter again into thyself; Think on the irreparable loss thou incurrest, and that while thou art as yet, but new in the rule, and mayst without note of levity, resume again to thyself, the passed course of thy happy life: Break off these bands, and render thyself to thy sweet companions again, to thy dear blood, and particularly to me, who thou knowest how dearly hath ever loved thee. And if some respect peradventure of Fathers or Mother's superstition doth retain thee from going hence directly unto their house, stay with me until such time as things be accommodated between you, there shall be no division or difference between us two. We will be all one, thou shalt ever dispose of my Wardrobe, servants, and rents with the same security as of thine own. But if perhaps certain gusts allure thee, which these Saints and precise Hypocrites tell thee are found in that solitary and extravagant life; make this account, (as so it is likewise their own doctrine too) that after a little honey shall follow a great deal of gall. The memory of the commodities and hopes so left shall vex thee, unprofitable repentances shall gall thee, and the rage of persecutions, infirmities of the body, and bitterness of mind shall torment thee; and when there is nothing else, thou shalt even carry thyself with thee, nor with the flying world, hast thou laid away thy flesh: whence the more continual the wills are that do spring from thence (especially of things that are wholly forbidden us) so much more shalt thou find thyself to be suspended, and strangled as it were amidst the incentives of thy appetit, & impossibility to quench them. Whereupon of necessity, either thou must needs dye of sadness, or prolong thy days in infinite dolours, or abandon thy profession with eternal infamy.  
Remember, how the lilies flourish not always, nor the leaves are ever green: Let so many others be a warning and example to thee, who either in Cloisters being forlorn of all, in their greatest necessity, have finished their days upon straw, or after many years of Religion, being vanquished with the labour & tediousness thereof, and lastly turned back from Religion, are at this day to their endless reproach, now pointed at in the City. So as now while matters are yet but fresh and entiere, do thou look to, & provide for thyself; and throwing away in good hour these keys and rags of thine, come along with me without delay. And believe me, from others thou shalt receive but words only; but deeds at my hands thou shalt really find, who vaunt myself, that I will be to thee no feigned Friar, but a true friend, and loving kinsman to my life's end. Therefore (dearest Nephew) let me preadmonish thee of these future events, and seek with all thy diligence to prevent them; and return again to thy most loving Companions, who will exceedingly rejoice at thy presence.  
With these, and other such like fiery darts, was the faith and constancy of B. Andrew assailed this day. In which conflict he defending himself with the sign of the Cross, and resolute silence, stood as firm as a tower, in such sort as the domestical enemy, being astonished at such fortitude, and confounded at his proofs so deluded, departed without more ado. It is held indeed by many with probable conjectures, that some spirit of Hell, had appeared in the figure of that Gentleman, but whether the Devil or some Minister of his (for even also among the Children of Adam there want not such) it is manifest, that with such assaults, he wrought no other effect, then to afford to the new Soldier of Christ both matter & occasion of a noble fight, and of a glorious victory. Hence taking more courage and new vigour, and after many other experiences, B. Andrew being admitted with solemn ceremonies into the body of Religion, he gave himself together with the study of perfection, to the purchase also of sciences: with particular caution, that the vehemency and assiduity of speculation (as happens but too often) consume not, or quite extinguish the oil of devotion, and the ardour of spirit.   

Of the zeal of souls, which B. Andrew had, and how he converted a Kinsman of his from a lewd life. Chap. 4.  
B. Andrew had yet regard to the age he was of, & to the strength and lively temperature of his complexion: and above all things, held it a great baseness, & a barbarous ingratitude to abandon Christ in his passion, and to have no will to taste of the chalice, which the heavenly Physician so benignly for us would first be proving himself. So as besides the continual guard & custody of the hart, besides the familiarity with God, by the means of holy prayer, besides the frequent interior acts of humility and of charity, he left not also at times to macerate the body with abstinences, vigils, and sharp labours. He wore on his bare flesh a cruel cilice, he made frequent disciplines, he kept most exact and entire silence, at due hours, he fasted (besides other observances of the order) in bread & water for three days of the week; would take every occasion to serve and obey each one, even the least of all. He would go forth with a wallet on his back, to beg from door to door, especially In via maggia, a Way so called, where many of his noble friends, kindred, and acquaintance were assembled together; rejoicing not a little to labour in so ●…ase an occupation for sustenance of the Monks. And much more for having by that means frequent occasion to be mocked, scorned, and intured not only by those, who call holy mendicity, a lazy and Gipsian life, but even also by such that through his appearing so in that habit, with a foolish pride reputed themselves to be much disparaged and digraced by him.  
Unto this love of purity, and contempt of himself, and of true penance indeed, and voluntary poverty, was added an inflamed desire, and zeal of salvation of souls, whereto he attended not only with fervent prayers, and good examples of life, but also as occasion served, with exhortations, counsels and advices. And the Eternal Goodness also sometimes failed not to concur thereto with divine works: as it happened perticulary in the conversion of a kinsman of his, by name john Corsino. Which fell out, as follows.  
This man being afflicted with a most trouble some disease of the Wolf, the less hope he had to be cured thereof, so much sought he out solaces and allurements to divert the thought thereof; and among other things gave place to unlawful games, with such a number of debauched people, as his house at last was become a public house of misrule, and was commonly called the Dieinghouse. The Blessed Andrew not brooking so hellish an error, to so great an infamy of the name of Corsino, and so grievous a scandal to the whole City: First calling upon divine succour (as he was wont) he went at a fit hour to visit the sick patient; & after mutual salutation and demands had between them, which in such encounters are usual with those of the best breeding, with a lively saith and a lovely face he says to him: If thou wouldst but do as I would have thee, john, I do here promise thee with the grace of God, to deliver thee suddenly of this sore, which seems so incurable, and from the snares and deceits of thine enemies, that so persecute thee. To this promise of his the sick man, though he could hardly afford any credit, yet for the great desire he had to be rid of his pains, did offer himself very prompt and ready to any thing that B. Andrew should please to command him.  
Then answered the servant of Christ: I will have thee the first thing thou dost, to relinquish this ill practice and conversation of Gamesters; and after that, for eight days, that thou attend to Fasting, and to recommend thyself heartily to the most Blessed Virgin. The conditions seemed hard to john, and yet notwithstanding to make some try all thereof, using some violence to himself, he dismissed and abandonned the evil companies, and with abstinence and prayer, made the Mother of God so propitious to him, as not without the amazement of the whole City, and his infinite joy, he was cured, both of the Ulcer, which devoured his flesh, and of the greedy appetites, which under a false shadow of good, consumed his sensual and unwary soul. Such than were the acts which B. Andrew practised with his neighbour, full of simplicity & truth; by whose means we may well believe, that many others at that time, were weaned from vices, and confirmed in virtue.   

How B. Andrew was made Priest, and then Superior: and of the gift of Prophecy, which he showed in a particular event. Chap. 5.  
THough the modesty & submission of the Blessed Andrew were now already well known, he had notwithstanding new commodity to manifest, with a noble document, how much he sought to please God only, and how be abhorred all worldly glory.  
It was in times past, and is yet to this day, a custom in Florence, as in other places of Christendom also, to make feasts at the first Mass of a new Priest, with music, pomps, and banquetes: which demonstrations of joy and gladness, as they are not to be blamed, while they are kept with in the bounds of a moderate festivity; so when they exceed the same, there is much danger incurred, least Christian ceremonies degenerate into gentle, & profane, and that in operations of the spirit, and mind, the flesh and belly may intrude themselves; and finally least in the service and worship due to God only, the devil (a fearful thing) should have his part therein. Now the Blessed Andrew, having passed over already the gulf of youth, and not being able to resist Superiors, that he might not be promoted unto sacred Orders; as soon as he knew the matter to be diu●…lged, and how the Corsinoes' strived to celebrate the Primitia of his Priesthood, with exquisite music, rich hangings, and sumptous banquetes; recollecting himself a little, and considering such pomps were not any thing conformable with his profession, and worthily fearing some manner of abuse therein, with leave of the Prelate, retired himself into a Convent, which is called by the name of the Sylva, some seven miles forth of the City; and here as without all noise, so with extraordinary spiritual sweetness, he offered his first sacrifice to the most holy Trinity, which how grateful and acceptable it was, the Empress of Heaven herself did testify, who over that same unbloody host, appeared to B. Andrew encompassed with a troop of Angels, and with the words of Esay the Prophet very plainly said to him: Seruus meus es tu, & in te gloriabor. Which said, by little and little mounting aloft, she vanished quite.  
With which favours, the prudent man not puffed up awhit, but rather attending to abase himself, and to acknowledge all good to proceed from the mere benignity of the highest, became every day more worthy, and more capable of new graces. So as a little after the aforesaid vision, being sent to Paris, to give himself more exactly to his studies, and thence afterwards in his return into Italy passing by Auignon, where the Cardinal Corsino his near kinsman was, while there he entertained himself for some space, he gave sight to a blind man, who in the Church porch according to custom was publicly begging an Alms. From thence being come into Florence, he delivered one Friar Ventura a Carmelite from a dropsy.  
And to the end that B. Andrew might not seem to want the gift of prophecy also; even much about that time, being entreated by a friend to baptise an infant, which had been newly borne into the world, he did it lovingly, and in taking him out of the sacred Font, had a revelation from heaven of the unhappy success, which that poor creature was to have. Whereupon being moved to compassion, and being not able to hold from weeping, he was demanded by the Gossipe, what made him to weep so. Then B. Andrew though unwillingly made answer: Know then, how this Child is come into the world to the total destruction of himself and his house. Of which prediction as then the secular made but little reckoning, but saw it at last to be too true. Because the Child in progress of years being given to an ill life, and even loaden with ●…mes and wickedness, at last with some men of ill demeanour conspired against his country, and the conspiracy discovered, the miserable wretch by the hands of a hangman finished his days, with a due punishment, and the utter ruin of his Family.   

The excellent talent, and manner, which B. Andrew had, in government. Chap. 6.  
THough B. Andrew endeavoured what he could, to keep himself from the eyes of mortal men obscure, and unknown; notwithstanding being now come into a singular opinion & fame of sanctity, he was chosen by the Povinciall Chapter of the Carmelit Fathers to be Superior of the Convent of Florence; to which charge, he mainly opposed himself: but yet the common consent of the Electours prevailed, and the authority of him who of obedience might impose it upon him. In which office, he let the world to understand clearly, that it is not, as others think, that much spirit, and good government be incompatible in the same person. B. Andrew through the habit of prayer and of other virtues now already confirmed in him, conserving that which he had so purchased for himself continually (without losing yet awhit of his authority) the least of all; and not affecting preeminencyes nor titles, but endeavouring with all possible diligence, that such as were under his care, should, wholly free from all temporal solicitude, attend to God only, wherein without doubt consists the true and essential fruit of the religious and monastical life; since otherwise for a man to be shut up in Cloisters, and to think continually of meat, drink, and cloth, and other such like necessities, is not formally to abandon the world, but materially to change the dwelling only; nor is it to leave the old habits; but only to alter the objects; and it is even the same to be drowned in the Haven, as in the wide Ocean, as much to be loaden and oppressed with iron as with lead. Whereas on the contrary the mind being discharged of terren thoughts, like a dry feather flies lighlty aloft; and then spiritual exercise●… do never tyre, when the frail nature never wants its due and convenient sustenance.  
Which charge for that it singularly belongs to him that governs others in the divine service; hence it is that Prelates and Princes, are worthily called and said to be honourable servants; & for want of this solicitude and providence, murmurs and scandals do openly follow, and finally unhappy propriations, the certain pest, and utter ruin of Congregations and Orders. Which thing the man of God, well foreseeing, did not only hear benignly, but even prevented the honest suits, and necessities of his Monks: whence after would appear that it was no hard matter to exact the rule and discipline of every one; while to all it was manifest and clear, that he being wholly attentive to the weal public, had no regard to his particular interests, gusts, or greatnesses. In sum, he in that Superintendency of his gave such proof of the talon he had, in dealing with, and guiding men, as that even both heaven and earth might seem to have accorded together to exalt him, with the occasion that follows.   

How B. Andrew, was miraculously elected Bishop of Fesula. Chap. 7.  
IN those days, Fuligno the Lord Bishop of Fesula, a most noble City near to Florence, though now quite destroyed as it were, died. Whereupon the Canons and the rest, to whom belonged the nomination of a new Pastor, being assembled together in the name of God, and moved through the constant fame that resounded every where of the name of B. Andrew preferred him before any other, that might be destined to that Chair. The news whereof, was speedily brought to the Man of God. But knowing well the greatness of the weight, and esteeming it far too burdensome for his shoulders, he retired himself from his Convent, into the Monastery of Carthusians, a little out of Florence: & there hid himself in such wise, as the Fesulans having sought him through the City and Province, were resolved at last to come to a new election.  
But to the end it might evidently appear, how that title was reserved by the divine Providence, to no other than B. Andrew: behold while the Assembly was ready to enter into the Scrutiny, a Child there present, cried out with a loud voice, saying: Elegit Deus Andream in sacerdotem sibi, who is now in the Charterhowse, making his prayer; there shall you certainly find him out. At which voice those of the Council being astonished, without more ado confirming the former election sent immediately messengers to the Carthusian Fathers, beseeching them very earnestly to work so, as their Bishop, with so marvelous an union chosen of men, and with a greater wonder approved of God, might accept now at last the enterprise, whereto with so clear and evident signs, he was called so by the high rector and Ruler of all. And even just at that time, while this passed in Florence, there appeared to B. Andrew then, being in deep contemplation, another Child in a white garment, which openly declared to him, the will of God to be, that he should go forth to that charge, nor fear the while, any danger, nor fly the travail. By this declaration the servant of God being finally assured, and arising from his Oratory went to meet with the messengers of Fesula that sought for him: and taking a sweet leave with a thousand thanks of his Hosts, he went cheerfully to his diocese, being then some 58. years of age, & through divine favour completly answered to the great expectation which all had already conceived of him.   

How B. Andrew, demeaned himself in his Bishopric: and how charitable he was to the poor. Chap. 8.  
Our B. Andrew knowing both by learning and experience, that the office of a good Prelate consists, in feeding the subjects as well with example as with the word; and also in temporal necessity with meat and drink: first of all he retained his ancient maxim in preaching Christ above all, with works. So as he endeavoured to show himself continually a Master of all disordinate passions, to restrain sensuality, and to macerate the body with abstinencyes, and with wearing on his bare flesh, not sackcloth and cilices now as he was wont to do, but an iron chain; to sleep, instead of a matteresse, upon hurdles, to fly all banquet, to beware as much as possibly he might from discoursing with women, to shut his ears to flatterers, to trample on vain confidence or esteem of himself, not to remit the study of meditation, to walk always in the presence of God, & to acknowledge him with amorous affects in all creatures; whence afterwards derived that charity of his towards his neighbour, and that so tender compassion on the afflicted and distressed, as that in hearing their calamities he could not hold from tears; and none had recourse to him for comfort or succour, but he endeavoured by all means to send them away both comforted and contented. Yea following the steps of the great S. Gregory he would have an exact catalogue with him of all the poor, especially of the shamefast, and continued to sustain them with all possible secrecy.  
With which humanity and bounty of his, how much the Giver of all good was pleased, very manifestly appeared in time of a cruel Dearth, wherewith the people of Fesula being much tormented & oppressed, not finding on earth any retuge more fit and opportune than the benignity of their Bishop, they came running in troops unto him, and he shut not up his coffers, or dispense from any: in so much as having one day very liberally distributed what bread was in the house, and now beggars continually coming in, he commanded more bread to be given unto them; and his servants knowing very well, there was not so much as a loaf left, they endeavoured to certify the Master thereof, who notwithstanding persevering in calling for it, and bidding them earnestly to seek yet better; they not to seem contumacious, though against their wills, turning back, found to their extreme wonder a great quantity of loaves, and with great joy brought them to the man of God. Which presently he divided among the hungry, imitating in this also, the mercy, and representing the infinite power of the Saviour. Besides this, he was wont truly, in memory of our said Redeemer and Lord, the singular Master of holy humility, to wash every Thursday with his own hands the feet of some poor folks, wherein he felt particular gust and consolation.  
Now it happened once, that among those Beggars, was called in one, who had his legs in a loatsome manner very soar and corrupted, who as he was well bred and modest, began to resist the admirable man, not suffering by all means he should wash his feet: and B. Andrew demanding wherefore? The other answered: My leges are so soar and putrified, as I have good cause to fear, they will turn a Prelates stomach, and breed a loathing. Then answered the Saint, have confidence my son in our Lord jesus Christ, & so having said, he poured out the water into the vessel strait, and sets himself to wash his feet. A wonderful thing, scarcely had he finished to wipe that happy man, but his feet were made clean, and his sores cured. Such was B. Andrews care & diligence of the corporal necessities of his flock, and upon these foundations of well known goodness, did after securely arise the celestial building of souls: because he had gotten so much credit and authority with those carriages of his; as to reclaim and pull away ill livers from their lewd life, one word or beck of his, had more moment with it, than the long and premeditated dissuasions of others.   

How B. Andrew reconciled most deadly emnityes and debates; and how his death was mir aculously foretold him. Chap. 9  
THough B. Andrew had great efficacy with him, in each kind of spiritual remedies, yet showed he to have a particular talon in contracting honest friendships, in taking up quarrels, in composing controversies, and so much the more willingly laboured he in these things, as the Holy Ghost had given him to understand, that in mutual fraternal love, consists the whole sum of the Christian Law. The honourable fame now of all these noble actions dilating itself, through all parts, Pope Vrban the V. took particular contentment thereat, and for some days, gave a large field unto so eminent virtue to exercise itself in. The City of Bologna in those days was inflamed with perilous tumults and discords, nor was there any remedy of that evil to be found, through the inveterated hatreds, disordinate passions, and obstinate pertinacity of the parties. The common Pastor being worthily anxious and solicitous for it, after many cares and diligences in vain used about the same, resolved with himself to make use of the person of the Bishop of Fesulae for that business, and with an ample power sent him as his Nuntius to the Bolognians: nor was he awhit deceived in his opinion, because B. Andrew being arrived thither, began immediately to mitigate the exasperated wounds of their minds, and with the didivine help, had so lucky and dexterous a hand, as he shortly recovered them, reducing the nobility and people, without new noise to a desired peace and tranquillity. And some few more stiff and obstinate than the rest, by divine judgement being struck with a grievous and sudden infirmity, and again through the merits of the Saint delivered thereof, did willingly yield themselves likewise, and he with the like contentment of Citizens and Pope Vrban also, and with the universal applause of all Italy, returned home again to his residence. Where besides the maintaining and nourishing as we have said, with great charity, the bodies and souls committed to him, he took likewise particular account of the sacred buildings; and among other restaurations sumptuously repaired the Cathedral Church, which was even threatening ruin.  
With these passages being arrived to the 71. year of his age, while he was celebrating solemn Mass on the most happy night    

THE LIFE OF B. LAURENCE JUSTINIAN, THE FIRST PATRIARCH OF VENICE.  Written by the Honourable Leonard justinian. 

Of the parentage infancy, & minority of B. Laurence: and what a strange vocation he had. Chap. I.  
BLESSED LAURENCE was borne in the City of Venice, of the Magnifico Bernard●… 〈◊〉, and of Quirina his wife (both of a high and noble lineage) in the year of our Lord 1380. He was left a child, with other Brothers of his by his Father, who died very soon. His heavy and disconsolate Mother being yet but young, mac●…rating her body, as well with fastings and vigils, as with a sharp cilice and a brazen girdle, kept vidual state, not without a prosperous and perpetual same of purity: nor attended she with less solicitude in the mean time, in bringing up her children in learning, and that which more imports in Christian manners: and though they all gave much ●…ope, not to degenerate awhit from their Ancestors, notwithstā●…ing a particular towardness of a great spirit, and generous thoughts went discovering itself, in the B. Laurence; since that in those his first years, scorning and loathing the sports, and other levityes, which are permitted to that age, with a certain sage maturity, he conversed with men of stedder judgements, and of things indeed not childish; in so much as this manner of proceeding of his, was attribured by some to an overmuch desire of greatness of glory. Yea his own Mother, fearing he would give up himself as a prey to Ambition, (as most commonly the nobler wits are wont) of purpose said to him on a time: Go to, Laurence, leave this manner of thine, this thy pride even savours of Hell. Where to he smiling, met●…y made answer: Doubt not Madam, you shall yet see me a great servant of God. Nor was the prediction awhit in vain, because he being now come to nineteen years of age, when as man commonly stands upon the point of taking the good, or ill bend; in vision there appeared to him a woman more bright than the Sun, who with a pleasing and grateful countenance spoke to him in this sort.  
My beloved youth, why distracts thou thy hart into diverse parts, and seekest rest forth of thyself, now in this thing, and now in that? Look what thou wishest for, is in my hands, and I promise to afford it thee, if thou wilt take me to thy Spouse. At which words B. Laurence being at first astonished, and taking after more courage, to demand her name, and what her condition was, the Virgin replied: I am the Wisdom of God, who for reforming the world heretofore have taken mortal flesh. Which the happy Lover hearing, soon yielded his assent; and she reaching him a chaste kiss of peace, very suddenly vanished. At this vision now B. Laurence being stirred up to new cares, & feeling unwonted flames of fire to burn within his breast, yet could not fully interpret the invitation made him, nor to which to betake himself above others. It is true, that inwardly he found himself to be much inclined to a religious and perfect life; but as yet not ●…ing to his own judgement, he went for counsel to a certain Cousin of his Mother, called Marinus, who leading a monastical life in S. George's of Alga, of the Congregation of Celestines, was held in great opinion of learning and sanctity.  
He now understanding the inspiration and motives of the young man more maturely to examine the whole, exhorted him first ere he entered into Religion, or changed the habit, he would secretly make some experience, what he were able to suffer in a strict life. To which advice B. Laurence did very promptly obey, and among other industryes, began instead of a soft and downy bed, to lie in the night upon crabby and knotry wood. And with all to make his accounts the better, he endeavours of purpose one day, to contemplate on the one side Magistracyes, Honours, Wives, Children, riches, sundry sorts of pastimes and sports, and all the pleasure besides which the world may afford; and on the other, abstinencyes, fasts, vigils, poverty, incommodityes, heat & cold, the abnegation of himself, with perpetual servitude, and other difficultyes beside, which present themselves in the narrow way of more perfect virtue, and divine service.  
Hereupon as an arbiter placed between two troops of objects, demanded he account of himself, saying: Now consider well Laurence, what thou hast to do: Dost thou think thou canst endure these austerityes, and despise those commodities? Whereupon standing in suspense and contention within himself, at last casting his eyes upon a Cross of Christ: Thou art (said he) my hope, O Lord, in this tree is found comfort and strength for all, a secure & safe refuge for all. And without doubting any more, he determined by all means to follow the internal voice, and counsels of the Chief Pastor.   

Of the singular virtues of B. Laurence, and particularly of his Fortitude in suffering the pains of the body. Chap. 2.  
IT cannot easily be explicated, how much fervor and spirit was augmented in that blessed soul from that so free and well grounded resolution which B. Laurence made. Which howbeit he laboured to hide by all means possible: yet could he not so do, but those of the house, especially his Mother must needs find it out. Whereupon she, though virtuous and devout, yet tender and anxious for her dear son, fearing least through violence of nature, he might come to be transported unto some hardy enterprise beyond his forces, she determined upon agreement with others, to tie him, as soon as might be, with the bands of Matrimony. So at having practically proceeded therein without delay, she soon found out, and offered him a beautiful, noble, and rich spouse. But the holy youth being aware of the temptation, and conspiracy of his friends, would defer no longer, to rid himself of the danger, and to convey himself as secretly as he could, unto S. George's: where taking the habit of Religion, he manfully began to enter into the battle, against the invisible Enemy.  
The first assault then, he gave to Sensuality, depriving himself of all wantonness, and disports. To hunger he gave but that only, which even the utmost necessity required. Thirst he did tolerate, in such sort, as that neither for the vehemency of heats, nor weariness of the journeys he made, or other labours whatsoever, nor for any indisposition of body, would he ever call for drink. But rather if sometimes, he were invited thereunto, he was wont to answer: how then Brothers shall we be able to endure the fire of Purgatory, if we cannot suffer this little thirst? At the vigils at night, and mattyns, he was the first in coming thither, & the last to depart from thence: for that, it being the custom of others, to return to bed again until the rising of the Sun; the B. Laurence would never go out of the Church, until the hour of prime. He would never approach to the fire, not so much as in the hart of winter: a thing so much the more to be admired in so delicate a complexion.  
A certain Father one day invited him to warm himself at the lyre, and not being able to be brought unto it, he felt his hand, and finding it to be benumbed through cold, he cried out: Great is the ardour O Son, thou hast within thee since thou feelest not the extremity of cold without. But what great wonder is it, that he approached not to the fire, who never went as it were into the garden likewise, being the only recreation, and ordinary disport of the Monks? At divine offices he would stand bolt upright, without leaning awhit either on the right or left hand. He would secretly make most cruel disciplines; as testified the many stripes all black and blue, through his whole body, with the frequent stains of blood thereon appearing.  
In the dolours of infirmities, he would show incredible patience. Being yet a Novice, his neck was full of swelling of the King's evil. The Physicians for a last and only remedy threatened him first cuppings, then lancings, and lastly searing with fire. And the Fryats' doubting, he would faint under the cure, he courageously answered: what fear you Brothers? Let come the razor, bring in the burning irons; can not he happily give me constancy in this danger, who afforded it to the three children in the furnace? So as he was cut and burned, without fetching the left groan or sigh, or sending forth other voice, than jesus for once only.  
Howbeit indeed, it is no great matter, he should show such fortitude in the greener, who gave such an example thereof in his latter age, and perhaps more memorable than it: Because, that being unmeasurably swelled at that time in the throat, and being not able to resolve the corrupt humour thereof without incision of the knife, the Father being desirous to be rid of the trouble, to attend more freely to the care of souls, stood still at that lancing as quiet and unmoveable as a stock, speaking to the timourous Chirurgeon: Cut on courageously, for thy razor can not exceed the burning hot irons of the Martyrs. In this sort, the flesh being vanquished quite, and subdued, and the noble Warrior, with full & perfect renunciation, quitting himself to his power, of all terrene charge, endeavours to conquer the other impietyes one by one; so much more powerful and dangerous, as more inward and spiritual they be. But the principal fight which he took in hand, was against that horrible monster of Pride, taming it as well in the interior as exterior, with contrary, frequent, and intense acts. The garments that he wore were all torn; the more abject offices, and more noisome of the Monastery, (most manfully therein, subduing his stomach for the love of Christ) he would take to himself.  
Besides, he stuck not to go forth a begging of alms, with a Wallet on his back. And wholly to trample under foot the foolish reputation and vain pride of the world, he would put himself of purpose into the thickest nobility, and where the greater concourse of the inhabitants was. He would come also sometimes to the very house, where he was borne, and remaining in the streets be crying aloud, for God's sake. At which words and voice of his, the motherly bowels being moved, to cut off at least the walk or circuit of her dear, blotid, she suddenly commanded the servants to fill up his wallet with victuals. But he contenting himself with two leaver of bread, and wishing peace to such as had done him the charity, would depart from thence as altogether unknown, and so com●… nuing his round from door to door, being tired at last, with the burden, and sometimes over loaden with reproaches, he would return to S. George's again  
Being further provoked, though altogether unjustly truly, with other occasions, or reprehended for some thing, he would force himself (in biting his tongue sometimes) to repress the natural vehemency, which the Children of Adam have to justify and defend themselves. Through which exercise, by little and little he got such a power over himself, as that being once accused in the open Congregation, by a perverse man, for having committed in government something against the rule, though he knew the malignity of him, & could have yielded▪ a good account of himself; notwithstanding without opening his mouth, or changing his countenance, arising from his seat, with eyes cast down to the earth, and with a moderate pace, he went into the midst of the Chapter, and there falling down on his knees, craved humbly penance, and pardon of all those Fathers: so as the accuser himself being quite confounded at so great a patience of his, could not hold from casting himself at the feet of that innocent, and in the presence of all to condemn his own malignity. And as in public acts, so likewise in private conversation would D. Laurence most willingly yield to the judgement and wills of others, and as much as he might without affectation, always seek the lowest place.  
He bore all respect, and veneration to Superiors, he held their becks instead of Oracles. Nor only in things at large, and indifferent, by cutting off all sensual appetite, he purely followed their will; but even also in things other wise very lawful and virtuous, captiving his own understanding, would not descent a whit from their rules and dictamen. Whence it happened (as all virtues are with a wonderful harmony conjoined together) that the servant of God, very perfectly acquiring a habit of Religion, became rich and adorned with many others at the same tyme. Whereby preparing in his hart, a clean & grateful chamber for the holy Ghost, in short time he obtained so high a gift of tears, and so much familiarity with his Creator and Lord, as that remaining with his body on earth, with his soul he conversed in Heaven; and dealing with men by divers occurrences, he departed not at all from the presence of God; chase away from himself with great dexterity, all importune and superfluous phantasms. From this purity of conscience, soon after ensued such a light, as far surmonted all learning purchased otherways, and in the will so great an ardour, as all the waters of the world had not been able to extinguish it. But rather he sought always, to advance forwardly, according to the obligation of profession, and so much abhorred to turn himself, and look back being (as they say) at the plough, or to reedify that which he had destroyed, or to resume again any thing which he had left and renounced in the world, as he could never be brought once, to put his foot in his Father's house, although he lived so near unto them, and his dearest friends were of the best reputation, and of rare example of Christian virtue: Save only at the death of his Mother, and Brothers, was he present to assist them with due piety in their last passage.   

How B. Laurence converted a kinsman of his from his evil purpose. And of the goodly saying he was wont to use. Chap. 3.  
B. Laurence, had not been yet many years in Religion, when a dear companion of his, in the world, who for this mean while had been in the East, and but newly returned to Venice (so powerful the instigation of the Devil is) went presently to S. George's, accompanied with music, loud and soft, to allure the new Monk to his former life, partly also with a band of men, to use some violence with the Convent, if need were. This Gentleman was a man of great employments, and of much respect, so as he obtained very easily to speak with Blessed Laurence; but yet with far different success from his designs. Because at the first fight of the new Soldier of Christ, beholding the modesty of his countenance, the gravity of his gestures, and composition of the whole person, he remained astonished thereat. And notwithstanding using some violence with himself, and taking courage withal, he began the enterprise for which he came thither; but the servant of God permitting that breast full of passion and youthful error to vent itself forth, with a cheerful countenance and mild speeches, began first very dexterously to feel him: & then with the memory of Death, of Hell, and of the last judgement, and with lively representing unto him, the vanity and deceits of the world, pressed him so hard, as the good man being now compunct, upon a sudden yielded himself; & so yielded, as cutting of with the force of spirit, all transitory designs whatsoever, resolved to adhere to that Rule, which he had thought to have vioted, and from henceforth offering himself to the divine worship, he persevered ●…n the holy Cloister, with like profit of his own, and amazement of the whole City. In this manner the ancient adversary departed, and he who had thought to have had a prey, was himself caught in the net.  
Nor with the seculars only, being free and dissolute, were the persuasions of the B. Laurence efficacious (especially his good example and servant prayers to our Lord concurring with all) but even also (a thing to my judgement yet more hard) with the tepid and negligent Religious. Since he awaked some of them more than once from the deadly sleep of slothfullness, and withdrew them from a foolish and unwary presumption, to a solicitous and wise fear of Christ: others, being now weary with the spiritual warfare, or rather basely already put to flight, he caused on a sudden to turn head again, and beyond all hope, to stand stoutly in the front of the battle. For the eminent Pulpit, and popular preachings he wanted strength of body: but yet in private assemblies, he would make sweet homilies and devout discourses, to the great profit and consolation of the hearers. And also in his daily speech, would often proceed very notable sentences from his mouth, whereof for example sake we shall put down some.  
He would say, It was not the part of a Religious man to fly only the greater sins, since that behoved every one to do, but even also, to keep himself from the less, lest Charity should wax cold. He was wont also to note concerning fastings, that they are not to be remitted wholly as soon as the body waxeth lean, for as much as the wished extenuation thereof, is conserved with that which procures it. Three things he judged to be necessary for a Monk, to wit, fervour, discretion, and heavenly grace, because where any of these are failing, there can be no perseverance. He compared the virtue of Humility, to a river that swells with rain: for that even as a torrent is very low and still in the summer, and runs outrageous and boisterous in winter; so the humble man, being slack and remiss in prosperity, in adversity again appears to be high and magnanimous. He added, that no man well comprehends, what the gift of Humility is, but he that hath received it from God, and that there is nothing wherein men are more deceived, then in discerning this virtue, and how true science consists in knowing two things; that God is all, and man nothing.  
In the greater troubles of his Country (which at that time was much infested with wars) he stuck not to admonish the principal Senators, that if they would obtain mercy of God, they should hold for certain they were nothing, nor could do any thing of themselves. He advised that none should be received into Religion without mature examine, least by admitting the bad, the good might be hurt. Besides that, when the number of subjects, is too much increased, the Rule cannot long last in its rigour, because perfection is of few only.  
A Gentleman's son being come to S. George's for the habit, as soon as the Blessed Laurence heard that he was induced thither, through the artificious enticements of the Monks, he renders him to the solicitous Father with these words: Here take him to you again, for this renouncing of the world should proceed from the Holy Ghost, and not for human instigation, and much worse it is to fail afterwards, then to have never begun at all. From the day he was made Priest, he failed not to celebrate every day, unless by occasion of infirmity; and concluded, that he who neglects when he may, to enjoy his Lord, declares sufficiently that he makes little account of him. To go about to keep chastity, amidst commodities and ease, he protested to be as much as with fuel to extinguish the fire. In the matter of Christ his counsels, he resolved (among other things) that no man understands, how great a good this Poverty is, but he that loves, when time is, contemplation and his Cell; and that God of purpose keeps secret the felicity of the Religious state, because that if it were known, every one would be running into it.  
He often remembered, that we are never to lose our hope in God, since herein consists the life of the soul●…. As for the rich he affirmed, that they cannot be saved, but by dealing of alms. He held the Pastoral care to be so much more grievous and difficult than the government of the state of war is, as the rule of invisible things is harder than that of the visible. He likened a good Prince to a head, especially for this reason, that even as the head & tongue are sufficient to crave help for the whole person, though the rest of the body be quiet & stand still; so the servant prayer of a Prince, sometimes is enough to appeal the wrath of God, though the rest of the City apply not itself, or attend thereunto. These violent erterprises, and such as meet with encounters every foot, he counseled to forbear, as growing from an evil spirit, since to the good and holy, the divine Providence itself, is wont to open the way, and quit the obstacles that hinder.   

How B. Laurence was chosen to govern the Religion: and how afterwards he was made Bishop of Venice. Chap. 4.  
BY these and other such like advices, may well be discerned, what light the man of God had, not only in abstract & spiritual matters, but even also ●…in the moral and practic; yea and without ever having attended to Scholastical doctrine, or subtle disputes, he would answer when need was to profound interrogations of Theology, with so much acumen and clarity, as even the Doctors themselves would be amazed thereat. With the same wisdom surely infused more from Heaven, then borrowed from books, he composed diverse works, fraught as well with sovereign conceits, as with amorous affects. Which labours being publicly set forth, and put in print, do walk and pass at this day through the hands of learned men with notable fruit and help of souls. Amidst these things, after the Blessed Laurence had given a long and sufficient proof of himself, he was elected by the Monks, full sore against his will, to the government of the Religion, and he bore that burden with singular approbation unto the 51. year of his age.  
At which time, the good odour of such virtues, being now spread into diverse parts, it seemed good to Pope Eugenius the IV. without doubt through divine inspiration, to create him Bishop of Venice. At which tidings, it may easily be imagined, how much the holy man was confounded and troubled. Twice he was ready to fly away and to hide himself: but the matter not succeeding so with him, he determined at last to remit himself to the judgement of his Congregation. And first having made for that intent many fasts and prayers, the Fathers resolved at last to dispatch a man of purpose to the Pope, humbly beseeching his Holiness, not to deprive their Order of such and so great a Guide-maister, and Pastor. And being not heard the first time, they replied the second with more instance, but all in vain, as appears by the two Briefs, written by the same Eugenius to the said Congregation, with words very, amorous and consolatory withal.  
The Blessed Laurence then being not able to resist the Pope without sin, accepted the power in such sort, as he not only changed not his manners to the worse, as it happens, but continually made them more admirable and perfect then ever. One day about the evening, he took possession of the Bishopric, so simply, and so without all pomp, as even his nearest friends had no knowledge thereof, till he was entered thereinto. Then all that night without shutting his eyes, he remained in prayer, beseeching our Lord with many tears, since for the only service of his divine Majesty, so wholly against his own inclination, he had condescended to that degree, he would not deprive him of his protection and clemency: that he knew very well, the importance of the charge, the greatness of the City, the variety and multitude of the Orders and states, the forces of the secular power; and how great disgusts had passed heretofore, between that Domination and the Bishops his Predecessors, and how poor a stack he had for such a manage, and for such accidents, being so a silly wretch as he was, and ever shut up in a Monastery. His devout prayers, and servant sighs, were not poured in vain. Because they found the ears of the divine goodness to be opened to them. Whence, being illustrated with a sudden and new light, he took so much vigour and comfort thereat, as he afterwards governed the whole Diocese, as easily as he had been but to rule some Convent, as shall appear in the next Chapter.   

How B. Laurence governed his House, and the City, with singular fruit and edification of all. Chap. 5.  
TO begin with domestical matters, Blessed Laurence ordained his family in this manner. He chose out two virtuous companions of his Congregation; one for divine offices, the other for the more weighty cares of the Bishopric. For the service of the house, he would have but five assistants and no more. To this retinue of Courtiers was his Table and Wardrobe answerable. He had no plate but of earthen-glasse. Arras, or Tapestry were not there to be seen at any tyme. In his clothing he never altered the purple habit. In the night he lay upon a scanty bed of straw, covering himself with a gross and coarse rug. His table by how much more exquisite it was for neatness, so much the more was it purposely neglected in vyandes. He never had longing for any thing, nor had as little aversion from any, contenting himself ever with that which was set before him.  
His family thus ordered, he gave himself to the reformation of the City, beginning first from the Cathedral Church, which through others default and carelessness, had great need thereof. He set the Chapter on foot again, & the Order of the Canons, now brought almost to nothing, and increased it with Priests and petty Canons and Choristers. He reduced many other Churches to so good terms, where hardly any Mass was wont to be celebrated before, as they seemed to be Cathedral and Pontifical. Applying himself afterwards to the censure of the Clergy, he made very excellent Decrees & Constitutions in this nature, nor had he any great difficulty to procure them to be kept and observed, such was the grace & benignity, wherewith he obliged the hearts of his subjects, since he was helpful to many, and never imposed burden upon any, permitting them fully to enjoy the fruits and their rents: howbeit on the other side, when the matter required, he spared not to use due severity.  
With the same care and love he dealt with the Monasteryes, especially of Nuns; not suffering the frail sex to suffer any thing, neither in the body, or spirit. He repaired the Parishes which were ruined, and erected so many a new, as that finding some 20. of them, with good observance he left no less than 30. behind him at his death, nor used he less diligence with all the rest of his flock. It is incredible, what concourse there was every day at his house of distressed persons, who resorted to him for counsel & succour. Notwithstanding he was more particularly vigilant upon Curates and Vicars, as they call them, reducing often into their memory, the straight account they are to make to our Lord God. But how shall we express his great liberality? He despised money as much as ever was despised of any. His gate, the dispense, his chests, stood ever open to all the poor. He could not be brought by any means to take account of the master of his house; while it seemed to him an unworthy thing, that a superintendent for the care of gaining souls, should set himself of purpose to cast for farthings. And took heed much more, least in the m●…nage of Episcopal rents, flesh and blood might have place: knowing how much this imported for edification, & for purchasing the minds of the City. And therefore endeavoured he always, that the world might clearly know, how in temporal or economical matters, he had no manner of commerce at all with his adherents.  
So as, a certain poor man, being recommended to him, on behalf of the Magnifice Leonard his brother: Go thy ways (said he to him) and bid him from me, to do thee the favour, since God hath afforded him the means. The good Bishop answered to a certain kinsman of his, not very rich, who demanded some succour to marry his daughter with: Consider I pray, good Sir, that if I give you but a little, it is not that which you pretend: and if I give you much, I shall wrong many to help one only. Besides, how little or much soever I hap to give you, hath been commended to me, by the Church for maintenance of the poor, and not for jewels, & other ornaments of women. He more willingly gave alms in bread, wine, wood, garments, and other such like, then in money, to take away (I believe) the occasion from many of spending it ill, and when indeed he gave any money, he would divide it into many pieces, that the greater number of the needy and necessitous might participate thereof. Nor in examining their merits was he very scrupulous, or exact; but rather sometimes let himself be deceived, as choosing rather to benefit some unworthy person, then defraud in the least any well deserving. True it is that for the bashful and shamefaced poor (towards whom the holy man, had particular compassion) he had certain Matrons deputed of much confidence, and of eminent virtue; who by some good way or other, might take faithful and exact information of the secret necessities of each, especially of those who from good degrees through divine permission have fallen into straits.  
In sum, he was far from all tenacity, as when with monies he could not furnish others necessities, he would supply with suretyships for them, or by charging himself with their debts. And being demanded by his nearest domestics, upon what foundation he laid up his treasure? He would say, of my Lord, who will pay me well for it. Nor was he awhit deceived of his hope, since when others lest thought of it, there would come to him here and there great quantities of gold and silver, that he might dispend them on the poor at his own pleasure. With all these things went united together a peace and serenity of mind, not easily to be expressed with words; as seeming in a certain manner, he held the Moon under his feet, and had his mind fixed and seated in a place, where the clouds of sadness, or the winds, and tempests of other disordinate passions could not reach. And to this purpose I will not spare to touch some things, not so light in substance, as they will seem perhaps at first, if it be true indeed that by sudden accidents habits are known.   

Two not able examples of B. Laurence his Patience: and how welcome he was to Pope Eugenius. Chap. 6.  
THe Blessed Laurence being one day set at the table, one of the waiters deceived (as sometyms it happens) instead of wine presented him with vinegar, when the good Bishop having tasted it, without altering his countenance, or speaking a word, went on with his dinner, and listened to the lesson read, until at last the poor servant aware of the error, ●…craued pardon for his offence. The B. Laurence (as we have said above) was exceedingly reverenced and beloved of the City. And yet nevertheless sometyms he had potent adversaries: One whereof, taking by occasion a great disdain at certain Canons published against pomps, assembling a great number of men together, for the most part very noble & honourable personages, laboured of purpose to make an Inuective against the servant of God, tearing him (as he was wont) in his fame, and exhorting all to oppose themselves mainly to the too much severity, and the indiscreet seruours of the Monk. In the like tenor spoke some few of them, but the others partly refented the same, and partly derided such arrogancy; nor was the conventicle hardly dissolved, when as one devoted to the holy Pastor, being exceedingly troubled at those blasphemies cast forth, went presently in great haste to acquaint him with what had happened, and that with words so lively, and with such ardour of the eyes & gestures, as had been enough to have set any one on fire, though he had not been sensible of the injury. But the Blessed Laurence, not being willing to be further informed, either of the fact, or the persons, made answer with a cheerful countenance: Do not trouble yourself, my Son, for God will have care of his honour; and so indeed it fell out, since that wretched accuser with his followers was soon very grievously punished by the Magistrates upon other occasions. I will add another example like to this.  
The vigilant Bishop, with great equity had condemned a certain Clerk for ill life, not regarding much the protection which a seditious Layman gave unto him. Whence this other lewd companion was so enraged against him for it, as the solemn Procession of Corpus Christi passing before his doors, at the approach of the Bishop who carried that sacred Custody, with a loud voice he vomited forth a number of vile reproaches & contumelies upon him, calling him (among other things) a Cosener, an Hypocrite, and warning the people to beware of him. From which sacrilegious affront ensued so great a scandal, and choler of the standers by, that the Majesty and reverence of that great Feast could hardly hold them from running suddenly with their burning torches, to set his house on fire. But the Priest of God, what did he in this case? Holding his eyes fixed on the Venerable Sacrament, without altering his pace awhit, or changing his countenance, he went forwaard with great gravity on his way. Although indeed, without endeavour of the Saint, the unbridled presumption of the Wretch was soon punished, because being constrained by the Senate, to recant publicly, he was afterwards miserably banished also. Nor amidst persecutions and travails likewise the B. Laurence would show himself to be stout and constant, but even also (a thing much more rare and difficult) amidst favours and greatnesses themselves.  
He was more than once invited by Pope Eugenius to Rome, but always in vain, since he finding out new excuses every hour, eschewed honours, and pomp as much as others sought them. True it is, the same Eugenius being come afterwards to Bologna, and renewing the invitement, the Servant of God could no more allege, as he was wont, either the weakness of his complexion, or the difficulty and length of the way: so as recommending himself to our Lord, he went his ways thither, and in the presence of many Cardinals, was very graciously received by the Pope, and saluted with these words: Welcome the ornament, and splendour of the Episcopal order. And from henceforth his Holiness with the rest of the Clergy and the City, held him in great veneration all the time that he remained there, which was but short, through the care and solicitude he had, to return to his Diocese as soon as might be. And howbeit the Pope much desired to have him with him, with humble instance notwithstanding effectually taking his leave, he departed from Court, without the lea●…t rust of avarice, that could once take hold of the fine polish of his Charity.   

How B. Laurence was made Patriarch of Venice: and what testimony was given of him, by a holy Hermit. Chap. 7.  
AFter Eugenius the IV. su●…eeded Nicolas the V. who in a certain manner, contending with his Predecessor to exalt B. Laurence, determined to create him Patriarch of Venice, translating the Primacy into that City, from another City and Island of th●… Adriatic Sea, called Gradus, very famous & magnificent in times past, though now, as humane vicissitudes are, as it were forgot, & utterly destroyed. This news at the beginning, was not very grateful to the States of Venice, fearing least in process of time, with such augmentation and advancement of the Prelacy and the Title, the troubles and factions again, might come to increase, which had anciently grown between the Ecclesiastical & secular Court. As soon then as the Blessed Laurence had notice thereof, to show himself in deeds to be no less a good Citizen, than a good Religious man, and a good Bishop, he went to the Senate, and there publicly declared his desire was to retire himself rather, and to lay down the charge now borne for these eighteen years against his will, than now in old age to charge himself a new with such a burden. But for as much as the name and title of patriarch offered by his Holiness, redounded not so much to his honour, as th●… reputation and Majesty of the Common wealth, he would by no means dispose of himself any thing in that case, without first comunicating the matter with the Superintendantes and Tutors thereof. Wherefore they should plainly signify in the mean time, their own inclination; since he would wholly govern himself according thereto, in a business of that importance, looking always a great deal more into the common good, then to any particular consolation, or disdain of his.  
These words and the like, said the B. Laurence, with such affect and candour withal, as the Duke himself, through tenderness, being not able to hold from tears, and the Senators astonished at so great a height of courage, conjoined with Charity alike, by a common consent made answer; By all means, and without respects he should accept the offer, as after he did, with the extraordinary jubilee, and joy of the whole people.  
About the same time, to the new glory of the B. Laurence, fell out another thing of great wonder. There lived for more than 30. years, near to Corfú, in a craggy and desert place, a Man very famous for continual prayer, and strict abstinence, and that which men more esteem of, for a notable spirit of Prophecy. Now the Venetian Republic at that time, being much oppressed and reduced to ill terms by the armies of Philip Duke of Milan: It came into the mind of a certain noble Venetian, who had then some business at Corfú at that time (so curious and solicitous are men about future things) to learn of that solitary man, whether true it were, as it was commonly spoken, that the Venetian Empire was near upon ruin? To which demand the Prophet answered without delay: You may all be thankful to the bitter plaints, and earnest intercessions of your Bishop, without which take this for certain you had now a good while since been quite undone; & that which had of old happened to those five infamous Cities, had fallen upon yours, since you have so turned your backs to our Lord, and put his holy Law so quite in oblivion.  
This testimony gave the devout Hermit of the blessed Laurence; not knowing the same by any humane way, nor understanding, but by divine inspiration, what passed in the world in those days. Which thing being suddenly diwlged, confirmed the universal opinion which was then had of such a Patriarch. So as there arrived into the City of Venice no personage of quality, nor pilgrim, (who then for sundry devotions came flocking from Hungary, Germany, France, and Spain) who endeavoured not to inform themselves exactly of his sharp and austere life; and of his most irreprehensible manners, to receive his benediction, to reverence his Relics as holy, the lodging he dwelled in, the Couch where he lay in, and the clothes which he had worn. They never took upon them any enterprise of moment, either in public or private, without having recourse to the prayers of this great servant of God.  
Lastly, he never likely went forth of doors, but the people would run to him, as to an Angel descended from heaven, while every one held himself happy, but only to beho●…ld him, much more to treat with him, and to receive answers or advices from that Oracle. All these and many other thing beside, which for brevityes sake are passed over, being apt to puff a man up, how wise and wary soever; and to put him quite besides himself; yet were not able to dissever the B. Laurence from the love and fear of God, and from the knowledge and contempt of himself.   

The great talents which B. Laurence had, in deciding causes as judge: and of the blessed end which he made. Chap. 8.  
What shall we say, of the manner, which B. Laurence held, in giving audience, and dispatch of causes touching his tribunals? Wherein he had such light & so great dexterity withal, as howbeit it he gave the most part of his time, to all other things, yet he seemed to be as borne only and created for this. He would stand amidst the cries and clamours both of clients and pleaders, as firm as a rock: and after he had listened to the parties what sufficed (discovering now and then, with more than human understanding, the secret traces, and frauds which lay often hid) he would briefly then give sentence, but with such judgement and equity, as among other things in the Court of Rome, they were always held in a high degree most just and irrefragable. Nor left he those awhit less satisfied, who came to visit him in private, since to be admitted to his presence, there was no need of waiting or attending more fit opportunityes. For whether he studied, or wrote, or made his prayer, suddenly cutting of the thread of the present occasion, he would receive all with such peace and benignity, as he seemed not to be subject to troubles, or clothed with flesh, but with all love, all sweetness, all spirit.  
By these ways now approaching to the term of his pilgrimage, hardly had he finished the Treatise entitled, The degr●…es of perfection; when being now some 74. years of age, he was surprised by a burning pestilent fever. Whereupon his domestikes preparing him a bed, according to his infirmity, the true imitator of Christ, being troubled at it, said to them: What then, do you make ready feathers for me? My Lord was not laid upon feathers, but stretched on a hard and cruel bat. And do you not remember that which S. Martin protested in his last article, that a Christian should dye upon ashes, and clad in cilices? Finally there was no means to lay him otherwise, then upon his wont straw. Perceiving afterwards, to cure his malady, there was no neglect had of travail or costs, being angry as it were against himself. A●… (said he) what pains is taken, and how much money cast away upon a vile sack, when the poor of Christ have no food the while, nor fire, nor any remedy for their necessities.  
Hereupon presaging his own death, he recollected himself more seriously; and the two contrary affects, Fear, and Hope (as it happened in the like case to the blessed Hilarion) began to go & come with him. So as now with a cheerful and smiling countenance, forbidding tears to the standers by, he exclaimed, Behold the spouse, let us go, and mere him: and added with eyes cast up to heaven: Good jesus, lo I come. And now again with just a balance weighing the divine judgements, he would show forth signs of Fear: insomuch as a friend of his saying to him, with tender eyes: How willingly, my Lord, may you go to the palm which is now ready prepared for you? he answered with a grave countenance: this palm, my Son, is given to the valiant combatants of Christ, not to the base and cowards as I am. And yet taking courage at last from his own conscience, & much more from the merits and Passion of our Saviour, he goes about to declare his last will.  
And here now I could wish them present who do greedily amass up treasures and rents of the Church, converting the stock of the poor unto their private use, and with diverse slights continuing the sacred benefices in the same family. The faithful dispensour of Christ had not any thing to leave, having always been so great an enemy of all propriety, as that (being a person otherwise so addicted to learning) of purpose, not to seem to possess a book, he had ever studied in volumes stiched up only. His Testament was then to exhort his followers to true virtue, and very often to ordain expressly, he might be buried at S. George's, without any pomp, in the sepulchre of the Monks there.  
In the mean while, the rumour was spread of his last extremes through the whole City. Whence hastened a world of people to behold him, upon whom having for two continual days together, most dearly stretched forth his hands, the door being open to all, amidst wholesome advices and admonishments, which he gave them, and the sweet colloquies he had with God; his strength failing him by little and little, receiving the divine Sacraments with great devotion, he finally expired on the 8. of january, in the morning being the third year of his Patriarkall dignity, and the twentieth of his Bishopric. The sacred body was put in the Church, and publicly celebrated, not with mourning blacks and funeral exequyes, but with feasts and wont processions as made for some notable victory, as shall appear in the Chapter following.   

A notable miracle wrought by B. Laurence in his life time, with anothor that happened after his death. Chap. 9  
THe Confraternityes which are there called the Great Schools, went to honour the body with lights, and festival garments, and guilt torches. There met also the whole Clergy with the Magistrates and persons of each quality; and while the offices lasted, was heard from above by two Celestine Friars, a sweet harmony of celestial accents. Besides which miracle, are many recounted of the B. Laurence, as well at his death, as also in his life, as the delivery of possessed persons of evil spirits, curing of the sick, and predictions of future or hidden things, and other like effects above nature. But we only for assay, shall touch but two of them.  
The one was, that in the Feast of Corpus Christi, the virgins of a certain Monastery near to the Bishopric, being not able to communicate, by reason of some troubles which then happened, were all exceedingly grieved thereat, but particularly one of rare devotion, & of excellent virtue, who was of the opinion with others, to send to the Bishop in all haste, to beseech him in his high Mass he would deign to remember them, that they remaining that day deprived of the feast of Angels, might not also be defrauded of the intercession of the Priest. The B. Laurence oftentimes did promise to do so. When behold in the midst of Mass, after he had elevated the sacred Host, being ravished quite besides himself, without departing awhit from the people's eyes, he carried the holy Communion, and gave it by divine privilege, to the aforesaid Virgin alone; who, the other being distracted upon sundry occasions, was even at the self same hour, in secret in her Cell, rapt likewise in deep contemplation, and burning desire of receiving her Lord. From which office of Charity the Servant of God returning immediately again into himself, so ended the Mass, as none of the standers by could beware of what had happened: the Confessor only of the Virgin had knowledge thereof, and told it to the Patriarch, who exhorting them both to yield thanks unto God only for it, imposed upon them a strict silence thereof, so long as he lived. And with this, came to be renewed the ancient miracles, which are recounted of some other Saints likewise in the same matter.  
The other miracle was, that after the happy passage of the B. Laurence, there growing a contention between the Canons of the Cathedral, and the Monks of S. George's, about the custody of that sacred Treasure; and there wanting no reasons for either part, it was necessary while the strife was deciding, to keep it in deposito above ground; and so being a day or two, not only without sign of corruption, but with yielding also a most sweet odour, on the third day, began moreover the cheeks to look red, and the blood to come, with so much the greatet astonishment of all, as they were certified, there was used no preservative of Balms, or of any other drugs about the same; and the Physician sincerely affirmed, the fever to have been malignant and pestilent, and of its nature apt enough to corrupt withal. Whereof the rumour, running through the City, there was again such a multitude and press of people at the Gates, as from the Sacristy where he was kept, they were fain to carry him to the Temple, to satisfy the people's eyes, who not contended with a simple view, began with an audacious piety, to seize on his relics, so as his shoes on a sudden were vanished, his garments were cut asunder, and perhaps the fervour had proceeded further, if betimes remedy had not been found by a Guard set upon the body.  
From thence, being conveyed back again into the Sacristy, it persevered entire, until notwithstanding the Order left by him, sentence was given in favour of the Canons; while in the Cathedral Church remained a continual concourse of people men and women, who being stirred up at so great a news, came running thither, not only from the neighbour-countreyes there about, but even also from diverse parts of Italy and Sclavony itself, for the space of 65. days; at the end whereof still untouched as at the first, in the same Cathedral, it was reverently laid in a Vault, which to this day also is visited by the faithful with much devotion, and not without fruit, since that Blessed spirit, being there invoked, obtains them many graces from Heaven. And to speak some thing also of his exterior person, the holy man was tall of stature, of well knit joints, of a pale colour, of gracious eyes, and the whole aspect both venerable and amiable; a thing truly not usual, because indeed we do see many fair souls to be enclosed by the mighty hand, and sweet disposition of the Highest in proportionable lodgings. To whom be all praise, power, and glory, for all Eternity.   
FINIS.   

Gentle Reader.  
THE faults which have escaped in printing (by reason of the uncorrected copy, and employing of strangers not skilful in our language) I hope are not very many, nor yet such, as may not easily be corrected, by thy judicious Reading.